#i just want to see someone save chase from the abuse | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thecordelialetters · 9 months ago

Text

She's my Angel I Five Hargreeves x Reader

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚

Post Apocalypse Au! Pt2 Pt3

WC: ~3,258 Warnings/Tags: Sexual Tension, Mentions of Abuse, Agedup!Five, Mentions of previous trauma, 18+

Summary: The Umbrella Academy saved the world, the Commission is no longer after them, the moon is in one piece and everyone’s lives start to fall back into place. Five attempts to start his life over again when Klaus brings home a girl with unusual shadow powers. ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡

The Apocalypse was over and Five Hargreaves did what he did best, drink and cope. The first few weeks of freedom he tried things he had missed early on in his childhood. It started when Viktor took him shopping for a new, more appropriate wardrobe, that someone who looked his age would wear. Then he would often visit the park just to admire the beauty of places that were once a baron landscape. And sometimes he just spent his time reading catching up on what he missed in the last few years.

But old habits die hard when you spend 54 years alone and the next 2 weeks desperate to save yourself and save your family. Maybe Klaus was right when he called the apocalypse his drug because, for a while, it was all he’d ever know.

Five hadn’t slept well in a long time and despite his newfound freedom without the looming feeling of impending doom. He would find himself waking up at 4 am to check his window and just to see if everything was real.

The Academy had been empty for a bit, the first week his family had stayed back to collect themselves, celebrate, and appreciate one another but slowly their lives fell back into place. Allison went back to Claire wanting to get back her career and her daughter back. Luther wanted to find his independence and took a small helping from his inheritance to live on his own. Diego and Lila had also moved out in hopes of continuing to grow their relationship and perhaps find happiness in normalcy. Viktor, now confident in himself wanting to explore the world more began traveling and meeting new people. To Five it felt like everyone had moved on, except him. He had been the one to jump through time, and now he felt like he was stuck in it.

However this morning, his silent coffee and breakfast time was interrupted but a surprisingly sober Klaus barging through the door with a girl no taller than 5’3 who looked as if she had been dragged through the mud and a forest in his arms.

“I didn’t know where to bring her she ran into me frantic and couldn’t speak much,”

“There wasn’t anyone chasing her so I have no idea where she came from and she’s in pretty bad shape.”

Klaus looked panicked, he felt bad for the beat-up girl in his arms but what could he do besides bring her to the place he knew could help her best.

Grace and Pogo immediately took action, bringing the girl into the spare room to care for her wounds.

“What makes you think you can just bring random people in here? She could be dangerous?”

Five arched his eyebrow at Klaus’s behavior. He wasn’t a trusting man but he trusted his brother’s intuition and the girl genuinely looked like she needed help.

“I couldn’t just leave her on the road. I’m not a bad person Five. There’s something different about her I swear.”

Five looked distrustful at what his brother was saying.

“Well, we’ll just have to see when she wakes up.”

The two went back to doing their own things in the Academy waiting for you to wake up.

————————-3 days later————————

The sun shone brightly in the room you stayed at. Your eyes slowly opened, blinking harshly to adjust to the shining light. You had no idea where you were, this new place was uncomfortable and unfamiliar. Warm wood furniture decorated the walls, and the mattress you slept on seemed more comfy, soft, and warmer than your old hay-filled cot. Unsurprisingly your wounds ached but were clean nevertheless. You jumped when the door swung open to reveal a monkey? no an ape? in a suit. "Ah you're finally awake, Ill let the others know"

"I am Pogo by the way, please rest, we don't want your stitches reopening." Maybe it was the exhaustion catching up to you, but you listened to his words and laid back, staring at the large high ceilings waiting to see if whoever brought you here would be like your old doctors. Back downstairs Pogo noticed Five pacing around in the living room. "Any troubles worrying you?" "Yes that girl, I can't find any information about her, she had no ID, no name card, I even looked around the area trying to track back where she came from, and nothing." Five glanced around, more cautious of his surroundings

"What if the commission sent her?" "This is not good, not good at all"

And with a quick turn, he teleported to the room of which his unwelcome guest occupied. A flash of blue interrupted your daydreams when a boy about your age in a green flannel, cargo pants, with slightly long side parted hair entered your space. Besides appearing out of nowhere he looked almost normal, but that didn't stop you from being scared. Shivering you pushed yourself back on the bed as far as you could to try to get away from him. Sensing your fear Five held out his hands as a way to show you some form of peace. Lowering one hand he slowly approached you. But the closer he came the farther back you shuffled. Something wasn't right Five thought. You were terrified of him, what had happened to you to cause you to be in such a state.

Hey Im not going to hurt you, I don't know who you are but Im not going to hurt you." Five could see that you weren't budging so he reached into his pocket and pulled out a hazelnut toffee-flavored candy. He wasn't a big fan of sweets but had kept some from his last visit to a local coffee shop. "Here you must be a little hungry, it's good to see." He popped it in his mouth to show her that it was safe, not a trick. Slowly you reached out and touched his hand, grabbing the little treat, unwrapping it before letting the gooey sweet melt on your tongue. Five smiled at your reaction. "See? It was good." He thought you looked adorable with big doe eyes waiting to see if he had any more. He reached into his right pocket and pulled out another handle full of candies. "Ill give you one each time you answer a question. Can you do that for me?" You nodded slowly. "Okay, can you tell me your name?" "Angel" you pointed to yourself "Five" you pointed to him. You had heard Klaus shouting his name when you entered the house. "Angel? Do you have a last time?" "Five. Five Hargreeves" He pointed to himself. "Angel" You repeated. Okay maybe you didn't have a last name that was fine, at least he had gotten a name. He gave you another candy and watched you excitedly open it. "Okay Angel, another question where did you come from? Who or what were you running from?" "Doctor" you responded looking down. "What Doctor? What did he do to you." You felt like you should have known better than to trust the boy in front of you, but he looked so earnest so sweet, that you decided to show him your secret. Opening your fist a ball of shadows appeared in your hand before you tossed it into the air letting whatever light was in the room dissipate. Five knew what this had suggested. Whoever took you, held you captive, and experimented on you. Perhaps they were trying to make you into one of the unlucky 43. Another candy was handed to you.

“Show me more” Five demanded. You blinked at him slowly before he put another candy in your hand. “Show me.”

You looked at him and brought both your hands up into the air. He watched shadows run from the ground into the room and swirl around you. It appeared you could summon shadows at your will and control them.

“Good girl” and another candy as placed in your hand. "Tell me, Angel, do you know where or who it was? Do you know the name of the commission?" You stared at him blankly not understanding what he said. Before Five could ask any more questions Klaus had burst through the door. "My Angel! You are okay !" As he rushed towards you to grab your face. Stunned you jolted back from his presence. "Angel, that's why she called herself that, it's not her name, it’s what you called her!" Five went to smack Klaus in the back of the head when his hand was stopped by a shadow. "No hurt, Klaus friend" With heart eyes, Klaus dove into Angel's arms "LOOK AT MY ANGEL PROTECTING ME!!" With the gentleness of a newborn deer, Angel reached out to Klaus with a small sweet in her hand. "Candy?" "For me? Of course, Angel thank you!" Rolling his eyes at the scene Five teleported to his room to think. Where had this girl come from she had no name could barely speak and had a dark power with unknown consequences. Angel clad in Umbrella Academy uniform, and Klaus were in the living room when a flash appeared in the doorway. "Cinco! Where are you off to?" "Library I need to do some research." But just before he would reach for the doorknob a body was flung into his back. "Here take Angel with you, she needs a new set of clothes, can't have her wearing this uniform, you know all about that wouldn't you?" Klaus said as he shoved Angel forward. "I don't have time, I'm not a babysitter." Five expressed as he grabbed your arms and pushed you back. "Five...mad?" You looked up at Five with tears in your eyes. Reaching out to his face with his hand you softly pet his cheek. "Five...happy. Happy"

The time travelers face softened at the kindness you showed while trying to console him.

“I’m sorry Angel, yes Five is happy. Come on let’s go.”

He grabbed your hand ignoring the feeling of his heart when your soft skin wrapped around his.

————————-In the Car—————————

“Alright Angel, as cute as you look in the uniform we have to get you some normal clothes.”

Five looked over at you, but you were looking out the window. His green eyes passed over the cuts on your legs and the faint but visible bruises on your neck. It wondered him how someone could do this to you, turn a girl who seemed like an Angel into a shadow user. He parked the car at Gimble's before flashing to your side of the door to open it, Five was still a gentleman after all. "Okay now Angel, we're here to buy you some new clothes." You nodded your head to show you understood him and hopped out of the car excited to see the world around you. Being locked up for so long you had forgotten what the outside world looked like. Today the sky was blue with warm gusts of winds filling the air. People and families were seen chattering about. You reached out to grab Five's arm and pulled him closer to the store. Five chucked at your childlike antics, letting himself be whisked away by you. You dragged him to the dress section; some of the kinder doctors had given you books to look at to pass the time, many of them being princess books. There were cute frilly dresses that caught your eye immediately. Rushing forward you grabbed 3 dresses that might have suited you. With a sigh Five grabbed your shoulders wanting to tell you to go find some more practical everyday clothes. But after seeing the glimmer in your eye as if you found the most priceless thing...he couldn't bear take that away from you. "Come on Princess, let's go try them on." He ushered you to the changing room and waited outside. As he turned his back you grabbed his hand, but Five had yanked it back at the unexpected contact. He wasn't completely used to physical touch yet.

Ignoring this you grabbed his hand once more and tried to take him into the dressing room with you. "No Angel I can't go with you, just put on the dresses inside and Ill wait out here."

You had refused to let go of his hand. With another sign he allowed himself to be pulled into the confined space of the changing room. You quickly shimmied out of the uniform skirt and tie throwing it into a random corner. Five's face turned a deep scarlet red, although he was an older man the sight of your small and barely clothes body was enough to make him shift in his pants. Before he could embarrass himself any further he blinked out into the waiting room fanning his face as if he ran a marathon. There were small warning signs in his brain, don't get too attached, she doesn't know better, please don't get a boner right now. Trying to collect himself he put his hands in his face wanting to be anywhere but here right now. You interrupted his train of thought when you came out bouncing with a big smile on your face. The dress you picked out was a cute white summer dress that was white had thick straps tied on your shoulders. The skirt part stopped right above your knees and flared out with a twirl. You looked absolutely adorable, an Angel who wielded the power of a devil. "You look...beautiful" Five muffled through his hand. "Beautiful?" You questioned. "Yes you, Angel, you are beautiful." And as if your smile couldn't get any bigger, you ran and jumped into Five, his arms slowly wrapping around your frame to prevent you from falling.

"Five! Beautiful!" You smiled and pointed at him. Your fingers had graced his cheeks into a smile. Pointing at his dimple "Five! Beautiful" you repeated. "Oh, you think I'm beautiful Angel?" Five couldn't help but also feel happy and continue smiling, something about you felt like a breath of fresh air. His last few weeks had been nonstop paranoia and feeling the effects of an identity crisis, but hearing your laughter and seeing you call him beautiful, it felt as if he was actually living again. However, that didn't stop the nagging fear in the back of his mind of where you came from and what had happened to you. Perhaps it was the assassin in him that just couldn't let him...enjoy a moment. "Come on Angel, let’s get the rest of the dresses and pay. We need to head to the library before it closes." You nodded your head and skipped off to grab the rest of your dresses and clothes. You and Five stood at the cashier waiting to pay. "That will be 45.78." Five pulled out a 50 and felt your head lean on his shoulder. "Five, thank you." You looked up at him with a mischievous gleam in your eye. As he was retrieving his change you leaned up and placed your soft lips on the corner of his mouth. "Five happy?" He looked down at you and blushed "Yes Five is very happy." ————————The Library—————————- You were sat in Five's lap flipping through a picture book while he was doing research. Unfortunately, there was almost no information about any kind of suspicious activities in the area where they had found you or even how you even got to the city. Five had to expand his research on places that might have to do with experimental tests but with so little access he was found himself at a dead end. "Nothing! Absolutely Nothing!" Five yelled before slamming his notebook on the table. You jumped in his lap and covered your ears, eyes filling with heavy teardrops waiting to fall. "Shit Angel Im sorry come here." He cooed wrapping his arms around you for the fourth time today. Five pressed a kiss to the top of your hair and inhaled slowly. You smelt like a blooming meadow and a hint of cinnamon. Closing his eyes he rested his head on yours. It wasn't been often when he felt a peace like this, heck he didn’t even remember the last time he felt calm, other than when he was drinking or passed out after a mission. Your eyelashes fluttered on his neck as you began to press small kisses on his jawline. "Come on Angel what are you doing?" "Make Five happy. Kiss you" You mumbled and continued leaving marks on his neck and jaw. Five clenched his fists around you "Angel if you keep this us I'm not going to be able to hold back." Five groaned as he pulled you closer into his lap. And with his last bit of resolve, he blinked you guys back into the car. "Come on Angel let's go home." He kissed your cheek slightly to assure you he wasn't mad and drove the two of you back. ————————the academy———————--- "Mi hermano and Angel ! You guys are back" Klaus shouted from the couch he was currently lying on. You ran into the living room jumping in front of Klaus to show off your dress.

"My cutie Angel! You look so pretty!"

Klaus then swept you off your feet and into a fit of giggles. Five, who had been observing the scene from the bar was actively trying to fight off the green monster that was creeping up his heart. "Leave her alone Klaus we had a long day. Come on Angel let's have your shower and get ready for bed." It was obvious you needed to be cared for and Five had already begun to assume the role. Pulling out some extra pajamas Five had in his wardrobe he handed them to you before showing you the bathroom. "Shower here and come back to my room when you are done okay?" You nodded back and went into the bathroom. With a sign Five flopped on his back in bed wondering more about you. How could someone he just met cause him to feel such a way? Maybe it was his messed up time-traveling brain that was causing these emotions but deep down he knew he had a hidden attraction to you. He began to think more about your powers. You couldn't be part of the 43 because you were too young but you also showed an understanding of your abilities and more control than Viktor did when he first found out about his. Five would have to talk to you after you shower about your abilities. Small footsteps padded outside his room before stopping. The door swung open and there you stood wrapped in only a small towel Grace had given you. Five green eyes turned wide as you skipped into his room.. You had turned to grab the pajamas he had left you on the bed and dropped your towel. Five sat up instantly, his eyes wandered over the curve of your breasts and the plumpness of your backside. Being in the apocalypse and focused on getting back home to his family never allowed him much time for romance or women, besides Delores. You stood up as bare as the day you were born, nipples perked up at the cold air and you put the silk top and bottom on. Now properly clothed you turned to Five who was staring at you with eyes that rivaled a burning sun. In a blink, he was in front of you grabbing your waist with such a force it felt like you would disappear if he let go. Bringing his lips to your neck he kissed gently and dragged his face to meet your eyes. Soft despreate lips met plump shy ones as you and Five melted into each other. The kiss grew hungry, more desperate, both parties missing the feel of one another. The two of you fell back onto the bed with Five on top of you. Two souls both isolated from the world finally finding solstice in one another. All the questions Five had for you were gone from his mind, the only thing replacing it was the thought of how your body felt against his. A small hand reached into the front of Five's pants. "I want to help Five" You had whispered into his ear. It was going to be a long night.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ Authors note : I kinda of wrote this on a whim in the middle of the night. I’d want to make this into a full series although and go really in depth about Angel who she is and how she got her powers and I defiantly want to bring back the rest of the Hargreaves but I'm not sure when Ill have another creative burst.

#the umbrella academy #umbrella acedmy #five #five hargreaves #five hargreeves #number five #five x reader #five x y/n #five hargreaves x reader #five x you #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #tua #tua five #tua klaus #klaus hargreeves #tua fanfic

1K notes · View notes

lubrumalis · 5 months ago

Text

ghost headcanons! (realistic)

tw: nsfw, spoilers, dead dove do not eat

a lot of these are based off of my personal understanding of him

part 2 —> character analysis of ghost

general:

didn’t go back to manchester after his family died, too many foul memories—a lot of friends will probably know him as a murderer (comic reference, ghost was accused of killing his family in the newspaper)

has a fit body. a lot of people like to hc him as big and bulky, i think otherwise! its actually a huge disadvantage to be bulky in size as a soldier (logistics while fighting yk). most SAS soldiers are trained for endurance and fitness, i think he has a moreso lean body

hes not cold and ruthless, wouldn’t say hes a big softie either.

VERYYYY punctual. always on time

will not abuse or rape anyone. this guys been through atrocities, he would never do it to someone else

won’t hire a prostitute, ever.

honestly, hes just another dude in the military. he loves dad jokes and bourbon😭

ghost doesn’t think hes mean or tries to be, he simply is intimidating because of his size and way of talking

he likes watching soccer in his free time

gets internally offended if someone thinks hes from london (anywhere but Manchester)

very dark humoured. tell him any dark joke and he wouldn’t care

loves tea

listens to older british bands, like the smiths

cannot understand modern slang at all. what does ‘iykyk’ and ‘rizzler’ mean???

texts like a typical millennial. uses ‘😂’ and ‘😜’ unironically. types with proper grammar and spelling with punctuation too, maybe an occasional LOL

also unironically likes posts about trust issues and being a sigma male. he doesn’t actually think hes one, he just relates to those quotes that are like: “being alone is better than with fakes” 😭😭😭😭

ghost probably hates other men more than misandrists 😕 i think its bc hes always fighting other men and dealing with the cruel things theyve done, so ghost subconsciously feels more on guard with men he doesnt know

has insomnia

doesn’t cry. ghost doesn’t remember the last time he cried.

isn’t rich rich, but has a ton of savings. he doesn’t have a family or spend a lot. so the money piles up.

relationship hcs:

first off, i dont think he’d realistically get into one anyway LMAO

s/o would have to the chasing, i dont think ghost is the kind to actively pursue someone

he has charisma, doesn’t feel like using it

hes very against the idea at first—his family got murdered because he was in the military, you think hes gonna let it happen again?

probably will not like someone working with him as a soldier

i think itd go two ways: a) you are a civilian who aggressively pursues the poor guy and he gives in, b) you work as a military nurse and gradually get to know him, c) you are a longtime close friend of his before he was in the military

i cant see him being fwb with anyone, only one night stands

hes not a toxic partner or super lovey dovey

ghost doesn’t entertain multiple women at once

itd most likely end up in a breakup where he fears for your safety:(((

BUT lets ignore that

tbh, i think he would probably be with someone very empathetic and kind to others. he doesn’t like people overly energetic, too soft, or someone that annoys him

persons gotta be independent and good with long distance

simon doesn’t care about age gaps, but probably wants someone at least in their late twenties

had a hard time opening up, eventually told you everything once he trusts you

another reason why i think he wants someone empathetic is because he has severe trust issues😃😃

last thing he’d care about is looks for long term relationships

the type of guy to disappear for 6 months and reappear to be like “remember im your husband???”🫡

doesn’t let you tell your friends about him—No hes not being uncommitted or toxic, but hes simply being cautious after what happened to his family

you can’t show anyone photos of him, his name, his occupation, NOTHHINGGG

so you fake a name for your bf who your friends think you’re lying about

definitely does not let you post on social media about him either.

installs security in your home, teaches you self defense, and gives you weapons. this guy can be paranoid

will never hit you or lay a hand on you

ghost genuinely thinks you saved him—his life was bleak and empty before you came in. subconsciously thinks of you as a savior

he buys you gifts, does chores for you, he really likes you :(

ghost actively tries to make his voice sound softer and friendlier when hes talking to you

doesnt understand playing mind games, things like the silent treatment or “im ok” when ur not ok thing. just tell him how you feel

doesn’t tell his team about your existence. you and his job are always going to be separate.

avoids talking about what he does in the military. ghost has killed and injured many and he doesn’t want you to see that side of him.

scary dog privileges for SURE

#call of duty x reader #call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost cod #simon riley #tf 141 x reader #cod mw2 #cod

502 notes · View notes

hazelfoureyes · 8 days ago

Text

A Doe in Fall (Part 14)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smut💦📍

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Where we left off: Alastor and Reader had a misunderstanding and a heavy talk on the back porch. He’d let it slip how deeply he felt but it was muffled by your thighs.

Part 14 Someone like her

Brady says the magic words after finally meeting his elusive radio man. But was that a good thing?

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, masturbation, Ace Alastor is trying his best, little smut to start the day, Brenda exists, Reader is also trying her best but it’s less hot, mentions of abuse, thinly veiled racism, Insecure Alastor, an axe, Alastor is the deer and gator」

MDNI ☎️💚🏡

Forehead pressed against the wall of the bathroom, Alastor’s hand gripped the base of his cock and squeezed.

He’d been trying to masturbate more, hoping to prolong things when with you, but the action was just so pointless. Yes it felt good, but so did scratching his back when he had an itch. But there was no itch here. He couldn’t mentally stay in a romantic mindset when it was just fingers and running water. What intimacy existed there? What was the point? Male orgasms were for procreation and pleasure, were they not? He wasn’t going to knock up the drain or make the shower quiver so this seemed just wasteful.

Images of your pleasured face ghosted behind his eyes. Nothing pointless about that. A twitch to the otherwise bored flesh in his grip.

Wasteful.

Your laugh at watching Alastor march through the bedroom sopping wet and butt naked choked you when your eyes lowered to see he was also rock hard.

“Oh.” Was all you managed before his shower was soaking through your cotton top and powder blue skirt. “Oh.” Ravenous mouth at your jawline.

“I didn’t want to waste it.” His hips rutted into your side, the evidence of every place he touched were large and dark wet spots on your clothes. “Do you want to —?”

His fingers were already crawling down your thighs and gathering your skirt up.

You always forgot his strength when looking at him. Until he was holding you up by the hips, for example, fucking you against the bedroom wall. Wet skin slapping against your thighs, panties swinging around your ankle with every thrust. A lovely way to start a Monday.

The weekend had been spent with a very attentive and clearly apologetic Alastor. His hands had been more present on your body, always holding your hand or pulling your legs over his lap as you both read. Dinners with his feet tangled with yours. Nights with his head buried in your hair.

The words were moaned through his own mind, scared to let them go again.

I just love you so much.

Every time you sighed his name, he clenched his teeth to keep it back. He wouldn’t weaponize it. He’d struggled to keep the compelled confession buried into your lap before, but he could keep it together until the moment was happy and without the bitter taste of his disappointment still lingering on your tongue.

An enlightened gasp dripped into a breathy moan as you realized this must be the make up sex the ladies always talk about. You’d never understood the concept before then.

He felt you tighten around him, yes, a much better use of arousal. The good thing about his years of experience before you was he had time to learn. To know when to quicken his pace and when to focus on depth. Quality over quantity, he thought.

His mind stayed there long after you finished and he went into work. Leaving you behind was difficult, a small wiggling worm of fear deep in his skull that’d you’d vanish if his body wasn’t touching yours.

You’d taken off some time from work, partly out of sheer embarrassment and partly to keep the theater safe from Brady. Which meant when he left for work, you kissed him goodbye at the door. You both laughed into the small space between your lips immediately afterwards.

“Hush.” You warned him, and he pretended to zip his lips shut and slip the imaginary key into your skirt pocket.

Alastor was happy to hear Brady had been told he had a handful of nothing but he knew his clock was ticking. You’d recounted your time in the station and how angry and disappointed the other detective had seemed with Brady. Brady would be popping up as soon as possible, you warned. There was no way he was dropping the issue. He’d be knocking on Alastor’s office door in no time.

Much sooner than Alastor had prepared for, but he was ever the performer.

Brenda far too loudly announced two detectives were there for him. She was side eyeing them with a sneer he could almost appreciate when she popped her head in to yell it.

“I’ll be right out.” Alastor set his work down and took a deep breath. Every piece of him wanted to rush from the room and strangle Brady on the office floor. He’d seen him many times before but the pesky detective didn’t know that. A tremble of excitement he shook away. Smile on, he left the office.

His observations came quick and loud as he saw Brady’s face in the daylight for the first time.

Bright eyes. Tired. Light hair. Pale. Clothes wrinkled. Sweat stains even though it was autumn already.

The man beside him was new to Alastor, and Alastor couldn’t tell yet what to do with him. Taller, older, darker complexion. His expression was relaxed in comparison to Brady’s stressed one.

“Good afternoon, detectives. Alastor. It’s a pleasure.” He extended his hand but only Freeman moved to shake it.

Brady was staring with blatant scrutiny. Alastor was quite tall, and much leaner than he had anticipated. His hair was perfectly in place, with clean skin and neat glasses. Was this the right man?

“Edward Freeman. I am a big fan, sir. Your voice is made for radio.” Freeman shook Alastor’s with both of his own, not noticing his partner’s wide eyed horror. “Such a pleasure. I promise we won’t take too much of your time.”

Alastor could have cackled directly into Brady’s face but managed to keep himself in check, “A face for radio too! Ha ha ha,” his laugh was loud, genuinely amused with himself, “Well it’s always a treat to meet a listener.”

Brady thought he’d black out. He’d began his day humming with anticipation, the high of having a name and occupation making him dizzy all weekend. The shock of Freeman immediately cozying up to his prime (and sole) suspect was throwing him off balance.

He’d brought him along so he could show him he’d gotten the right man. He’d thought —- he’d been so sure Alastor would be some second rate employee with rough hands and thick arms. Not the pretty host working behind some desk. Weren’t there large spools of cable and big contraptions radio station employees lugged around? Where were those men?

A string bean of a human in thin circular glasses was charming the wits off his partner.

“Brady. We’re here to discuss an important matter regarding your girlfriend.” Brady leaned in to separate the other two men and their budding camaraderie.

“Girlfriend?!” Brenda choked on her coffee, her desk just some feet beside them. “You’re confused. I’d know if he had a girl.”

“Thank you, Brenda.” Alastor said through a forced smile, “She is right though. I am unattached. Lifelong bachelor.”

“That’s interesting. Because when we picked her up at the burlesque theater,” he was cut off by a shriek.

“Nude dancing?! Sir! My—-you! Alastor would never! He is a man of means and class! I-,” Brenda’s hands were aimlessly shuffling time cards. “The only theater he frequents is the cinema.”

“Brenda.” Alastor laughed, not taking his eyes off of Brady, “Please. Let the man finish.”

“But you’d never! This is slander!”

“No slander. We picked her up for prostitution and her,” again he was drowned out by the receptionist.

Brenda was on her feet, a second from foaming at the mouth, “Out! You get out of this office at once!”

“Sure, why don’t we take this to the station.”

“You want a local celebrity,” Alastor’s eye twitched as Brenda screeched out the words, “to be marched down there like a common criminal! I’m calling the station, you’re mad.”

“Thank you, Brenda!” Alastor hissed, words heavy, “Let’s continue this in my office, gentlemen.” His arm swung out to gesture to the open door.

Brenda was left fiddingly with her pearls in horror.

Alastor followed the men in and leaned back against his desk casually, offering them the two chairs.

“So, now that we’re … free from that, what were you saying?” He tried to chuckle away the chaos, one hand gently smoothing his hair back.

“We took in a woman last week for prostitution. Charges dropped but — her friends said you were her beau.” Freeman leaned back too, crossing his legs at the ankle as they stretched out in front of him, “Radio man named Alastor? Not too many of those so, thought we’d just come by and check.”

Brady stood near the door, refusing to sit. “So. Gonna tell me there’s some more Alastors in New Orleans? Or gonna be straight with us?”

Alastor nodded, sighing through his nose. You’d filled him in already on the story.

“Burlesquer, right? Pretty thing with the long lashes and sharp tongue?” He looked up at Brady over his glasses, looking as boyish as a man his age could.

“So you are her fella?” Freeman’s back straightened. He hadn’t expected that.

“Wouldn’t go that far… I’m embarrassed to admit it but yes I did take out a singer some time ago. Dancer too, I was told. But, I,” his hands slid in his pockets and he shrugged his shoulders, “I had a lovely time with her.” He gave Freeman a shy smirk, “I just didn’t want anything serious. Paid for her cab last time I saw her but I didn’t give her a dime for anything else.”

Brady stared at every inch of the man before him. His white button up was loose at the arms but wasn’t appearing to hide some powerful physique that said ‘I drag bodies around town.’

“We were told you’d been going to see her for quite some time.” Brady had been prepared for every reply.

Alastor furrowed his brow and pretended to think, hand coming from his pocket to adjust his glasses, “Talking about the nice little joint near the park?”

“Yeah.” Brady smiled. “So you admit it.”

“I loved going there. I first noticed her over a few weekends. Asked her out there, too. But after a few nights out she seemed a little… not worth the trouble, I’ll say.” He grimaced, “I really sound like a rake, huh?” He looked to Freeman, asking for the man’s acceptance with his eyes.

Freeman chuckled at the suggestion, “Not at all! Good looking man such as yourself, nice job, no wife. I’d be sowing my oats so to speak too. We’re just hunting down some people for questioning regarding a missing manager.”

Brady thought his head would snap with how quickly he turned to Freeman. He was saying too much.

“He’s uh, drats what’s her name?” Freeman turned around to Brady. Brady looked up to Alastor expectantly.

“Oh! She gave me some fake name. Winter or… August. I didn’t press the matter.” Alastor walked back to his desk and sat down, trying to get eye level with Freeman who was the easier of the two to play, “Missing manager? I frequent a lot of clubs looking for talent. Maybe I knew the guy. What’s his name?”

“Tommy Dupre.” Brady said it sternly. “And I’m the one leading the investigation.”

A twitch to the corner of Alastor’s smile, “Sorry detective, I assumed this here was your superior. He just has … an aura of experienced professionalism to him. Now where was I… a manager,” he shook his head, “Was he at The Bandstand by any chance?” His fingers were flipping through his rolodex of business cards. Brady noted how clean his nails were. But not suspiciously so, not something that seemed overly tended to. He shook his head again more firmly then. “No, never formally met the man at least.”

“He was your burlesquer’s manager.”

Alastor leaned back and crossed his arms, “I never went to her work and I truly don’t visit burlesque theaters. Can't risk my reputation.” Few people out of the club scene knew his face and name so that was a load of shit, but he hoped they wouldn’t stop and consider that much. “We run a clean show here.”

“Here’s the issue, sir.” Freeman patted the tops of his thighs, “Your Ms. Doe-,” Alastor’s brow furrowed in momentary confusion.

“Oh! Ha, clever. I see what you did there.” He laughed, it was light and made Freeman nod his head in thanks.

“She got roughed up real bad by Mr. Dupre around the time ya’ll were seen together. He disappeared soon after. So, naturally….we wanted to see if you knew anything about what happened to him.”

“Doesn’t shock me to hear that.” Alastor's voice was high pitched and airy. His nonchalance was grating to the younger of the two detectives.

Brady rolled his eyes. Alastor was definitely the man Beth mentioned; a daisy. The kind of man to fret over a stained tie or wet shoes.

“People in …those kinds of establishments can’t expect civility.” His nails were digging through the cotton of his pants. It made him sick to say it. How many days did he kiss your bruises? How long had they lasted? Longer than Tommy, that was for sure. Outlived him by quite some time. His smile spread. Brady noticed it, clearing his throat.

“What’s the smile for?”

“Ah,” Alastor hid his mouth with the back of his hand, he couldn’t bite back the glee of remembering Tommy beg, “Sorry. I’m just feeling quite grateful I didn’t stick around to be pulled into some dame’s drama. This is exactly why I remain untethered.”

“Wish I’d had that foresight…I’m only joking. My Donna’s a blessing and a half.” Freeman quickly retracted the comment.

A moment of quiet as they all looked at each other. A natural dead end.

Freeman turned back in his chair to look at Brady once more, this was his impromptu interview. He’d begged Freeman to take the early lunch. Brady promised him this was the guy and that if it wasn’t, he’d never bring it up again.

So he was staring at his partner waiting for the never again to start.

Brady chewed the inside of his cheek, mind bouncing through thoughts and theories and observations.

This man in front of him was soft. He was feminine in some aspects, definitely quite lanky and seemingly devoid of real muscle. Brady hadn’t imagined his killer to be concerned about style or fashion, yet this man clearly put a lot into his appearance. He couldn’t imagine him killing anyone… perhaps a gun?

“Got any hobbies?”

“Kenny.” Freeman chided.

“Sir.” Brady added it sarcastically.

Alastor whistled, “Besides jazz and piano? I fish. Uh,” Alastor looked for threads of truth to add to the web, “I garden quite a bit, actually. Love to dance.”

Of course he did. “Sports?”

“I don’t watch nor listen to much of that.”

“No,” an exasperated sigh, “Do you play any sports?”

“Oh!” Another casual laugh that grated Brady’s senses, “No, no. I wouldn’t pretend I’m an athletic man.”

“Hunting is a popular pastime around here, you ever go out shooting?”

“No sir, not my scene.” Alastor leaned back and swiveled his chair side to side.

No hunting, really? Brady’s brows rose in suspicion, “….you from New Orleans?”

Freeman crossed his legs, a simple act that somehow conveyed a rising loss of patience.

“Born and raised, detective. Native son if there ever was one.”

He slipped out his notepad and slapped it against the fleshy part of his hand. Brady’s spirit was withering.

A mistake?

“Understood.” Pushing off of the wall.

“Sorry to cause all this fuss over … my tryst with a dancer not too long ago.” Another bashful bachelor smile. “But it was just that. Fun. I never met her employer. I never even went to her shows. As for the place by the park-,”

“Beth’s.”

Alastor grinned to hide the flinch, “My doe, as you put it sir, was a real canary. But I haven’t been back there since I stopped seeing her. I’m sure if you asked they’d tell you the same.” The phone rang and Alastor apologized, putting a finger up, “Yes, Brenda?” The incessant woman asked what was taking so long. He smiled and nodded, “Thank you, tell them I’ll just be another minute.”

“We’ll be heading out. It seems I need to— to re-examine some things. Dig a little deeper.” Before Brady could retrieve his card to offer it to the radio host, Alastor was handing him his.

“Call anytime, but word to the wise. Brenda will answer first.” Alastor let out a loud and singular ‘ha!’

He rose to walk them out and Brady extended his hand again for him to shake, his stomach curdling at the touch. When the detective squeezed and shook his hand so hard his arm was moving up to the elbow he just laughed. He kept his own grip loose.

The limp and slender hand in his was disappointing. A final nail in his coffin, soft metal bending as it was struck.

Freeman smiled and hopped up, “Been a pleasure!”

Alastor took back his hand from Brady and wiped it off against his vest as soon as the men were turned around.

“Apologies for the disturbance, ma’am.” Brady kept his gaze down as he passed Brenda. Freeman set his card on her desk as he walked past.

“That’s a bunch of applesauce.” She hissed, refusing to stand.

Alastor’s mother taught him many things. Of this world and the other. Of the spirits always roaming and waiting. Of blue ceilings and birds hitting windows.

She warned him of people with heaviness, people who gathered bad energy like rain on a flat roof. That weight attracted likewise things. A gravity would form and pull in more and more darkness.

You’d mentioned a storm, and now Alastor was hearing that drip drip drip of the cracking roof.

He’d been taught to steer clear of those people with that darkness, because you don’t want to be there when the roof caved in.

She’d likened it to the sword of Damocles, don’t be so close you get cut when the blade finally drops. Don’t become collateral damage.

When his skin touched Brady’s, he felt that heaviness. The gravity. We’re you both slipping down the sloping pull of his swirling negativity?

He felt the urge to spit, which was uncouth and unlike him. Brenda was talking loudly to him but she was deep under the ocean and muffled perfectly well. His drunken mind had been wrong about many things, but one line of thinking had been on the money.

Something had to be done. An accident playing out in slow motion before him, threatening to take you both down with it.

A chill, insidious and violent made him turn on his heels and shut the door with force. There it was again, that fight or flight feeling. Twice in nearly as many days. Never did Alastor feel insecure in situations of life or death, not literal life or death that was. He didn’t care about dying.

The thought of losing you was that first trigger, but what was causing this one? What was his gut trying to warn him about now?

Distance was needed. He needed to get as far from that detective and his gravitational pull as possible. Perhaps not physically, but in every other sense. There was safety in that, he could feel it just over the disorienting whirl of fear.

If fear was a lark in his chest it’s little spine cracked and popped as it grew and mutated into a rageful osprey, anger opening his lungs and sinuses as blood rushed with renewed vigor. This was Brady’s fault, entirely. He was ruining everything. Alastor finally had what felt like all of the thj he wanted and deserved (anger dampening his usual insecurity of what was meant for him) and Brady was going to tear it apart.

There was a struggle to decide how to proceed. He thought perhaps telling you would bring him clarity, but if you asked him to not do anything at all he couldn’t be sure he’d be able to stop from lying to your face about his intentions.

A flash of confidence knowing he’d never lied to you died quickly, oh, he had lied to you. He’d lied to you in the alley before leaving to prepare to kill Tommy. He’d said it was the greater good of the community. A stain on his otherwise pristine morality when it came to you.

“How could they?”

Alastor’s head popped up, Brenda had opened his door unannounced and continued her raving.

“How could who do what?” He asked, smile small.

“Those detectives! Accuse you of debauchery!”

He imagined telling her how his morning started, fucking the nude dancer against his bedroom wall, arleady shacking up out of wedlock. Maybe it’d kill Brenda? That’d be convenient.

“I wonder if they are even real cops…I promise, I won’t let that nonsense back into this office, Alastor.” She gave him a thumbs up and left, leaving the door ajar.

Daylight was already creeping away sooner and sooner as the seasons began to change. The first day Alastor was gone and you were completely alone in his home for an extended period of time was passed in an awkward boredom. There wasn’t much to do…his house was kept tidy, food didn’t take much time, and you had no means to get into town. So you listened through his record collection, carefully turning the vinyls over with delicate fingers. You’d heard oils from your hand could ruin the grooves. No idea if that was true, but you couldn’t risk it. Alastor’s job kept relatively regular hours, so when you knew he had most likely left work you headed out front to wait. It was a foreign thing to do, and a little embarrassing. Dogs waited for their masters to come home. You stuffed the comparison down, knowing you were once again comparing apples to oranges. Worse than that, dogs to yourself.

“Welcome home!” You waited for the car door to close before greeting him, worrying over the timing. He froze between the car and the wooden steps. You stopped your swinging on the porch swing, noticing how odd it was to see someone completely still like that. You remembered the deer along the road. “What’s wrong?”

Every thought flew out his head and into the early setting sun. An odd deja vu came over him. He hadn’t heard those words in literal years. “No one has said that to me…since my mother died.”

Oh.

Oh. That was….sad. You grimaced. “Should I not say it then?”

“No!” He came to life, “I mean, yes. No, You should say it. If you want. It’s nice.” Staccato sentences as he took the three steps in just two. He leaned over on a novel instinct for a kiss, and you leaned up to meet him.

Another moment as you parted and both of you realized how odd the situation was. The killer and his dancer playing house. For a brief second, maybe heaven mistook you for something normal and good. When you smiled, trying to not say the obvious as you always did, he decided to not mention Brady. His first night coming home to you shouldn’t have to compete with that news. Tomorrow, he decided. He’d just….leave out which day Brady had stopped by. Not a lie, just an excluded, superfluous detail.

As you ate your dinner and he recounted his day, you made a decision of your own.

“Hey, Saturday, can you drop me off downtown for a bit? I need to change my shoes and do a little shopping.”

You needed the gift, to set the mood for your confession. You’d survived your first fight, you didn’t combust into a ball of fire when you kissed him goodbye for work, it made sense to do it now.

“Oh, did you want company? I don’t mind going out.” His little smile made it hard to deny him.

“Ah well, my friend is still staying over at my place and she may get uneasy with a man around. And my shopping….is at the kind of places men shouldn’t go. Frilly lacy places.” A terrible liar. “You should do something fun for Alastor! I’ll be maybe…four hours or so.”

He chewed slowly, since the misunderstanding he was a little more nervous than usual. You didn’t want him to join you, were you worried Brady would see? He shook his head, confusing you.

“...excuse me?” You laughed, “No?”

His head popped up, he still sometimes forgot you were right there and not on a phone, “Sorry, I was thinking about what to do with myself. No problem, sweetheart. You can just call me when you’re ready and I’ll head back into town. I’ll stick around the house, get some stuff ready for winter.”

“Perfect!” Perfect.

So it was decided. He would tell you tomorrow that Brady came by his office. And you’d tell him Saturday that you were in love with him.

That was the short lived plan. He couldn’t manage to wait. When the silence of the night settled and you had turned over to try and fall asleep, he broke.

“I really hate keeping secrets from you.” His fingers were pulling and pushing at the edge of the blanket.

You have secrets? You turned around and sat up.

“Brady and his partner came by today to my office, like you’d expected. I didn’t want to ruin our day, knowing how rarely we will live traditionally. But it’s just bothering the hell out of me.” His hands came to cover his cheeks and crawl into his hair out of stress. An overreaction, the weekend having truly discombobulated the man.

A beat of confusion, tense for Alastor but void of anything for you, until you burst into a relaxed laughter, “You’re ridiculous. You were really eaten up huh?”

“It isn’t funny!”

“It’s a litlte funny.” you pulled his head down onto your lap, “You coulda told me. It doesn't ruin anything. I told you he was going to look for you. I didn’t think he’d do it the next business day, but still.” He shifted his body to lie on his side and let you take off his glasses and set them on your side table. “Do you think he still suspects you?”

He thought about it. A little.

Maybe.

Brady seemed dejected when he had left, but he could see the wheels turning in his head as he was still searching for a way to make this puzzle pieces fit.

“Probably. His partner seemed to believe me. A listener, it turns out.” Alastor pouted, still upset at your laughter.

“That’s hilarious. I bet it pissed him off to no end, right?”

“He looked shocked. It was difficult to not laugh.” He let his legs fall off the side of the bed so he could turn onto his back and look up at you. “I told him you were a fling, that I had my fun and then disappeared because you were trouble. I said nude dancers getting beat up should be expected. I don’t mean that.”

“Of course you don’t. I remember your face when you saw through my makeup. Sure didn't look expected to me.”

His legs drew up, knees pressed together. “Was it still a good day?”

“You told me what was on your mind instead of driving yourself mad about it. It was a perfect day.” The open window let in enough light to see his stress melt away from the corner of his eyes.

He sat up and kissed your nose, “Thank you. You can sleep now.”

“Oh, I've been asleep the whole time. You’re gonna have to do this all again in the morning.”

“That’s not funny.”

You kissed his cheek and he smiled away the frown before settling back onto his side of the bed to earnestly sleep.

Flowers, you thought. You should buy flowers on Saturday, too.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Alastor nerves hadn’t settled yet, even if he slept well beside you. Every day he came home and you were still there felt like he’d been holding his breath the entire drive. During lunch he’d call the house so you could talk and eat together, in a sense. The conversation eased him, a confirmation you still liked him. An embarrassing fear he couldn’t let you on to.

He didn’t understand you spent the week calling record shops in search of something specific. Plotting exactly how you’d do it. You’d mastered the phonograph in the room beside the kitchen and found an old vase in the back of the cupboard.

The panic didn’t settle for you either though. It just shifted to the confession from Brady. As if through osmosis, Brady was now Alastor’s main concern as soon as their hands shook. You were less scared, as he really did seem to be dismissed by his colleague from what you saw. Dejected and forlorn from what Alastor had described.

Alastor was honest with you that he left work early to check on Brady midweek. He was practically dancing through the kitchen when he reported Brady went home on time for the first night in what could have been weeks. And he did so looking like shit.

And he felt like shit. When they left the radio station, Freeman gave him the silent treatment the entire ride back to work. He opened his mouth to offer an alternative theory, perhaps you or Alastor had a brother, but Freeman immediately shut him down.

“Stop. Enough.” He snapped from his desk. “It is over, Kenny. Let it go. Maybe some monster is out there doing all this crazy shit you think they are but it’s not this man nor this lady so just fucking drop it.”

He sat quietly the rest of the work day, thinking over everything again. It still felt right, but Alastor didn’t look right. Maybe it was a group, some new gang in town. Perhaps Alastor had some business with them.

Staring at his neatly folded map of downtown, his fingers slid over the last known locations of the various missing people over the past year.

Is downtown just inherently dangerous, he wondered. He supposed the map lined up with the jazz scene, and where there is dance and liquor there’s crime.

He went home to his wife and startled her with his promptness. While she was elated, he felt hollow. Purposeless. Freeman had warned him he’d invented this conspiracy to make work more interesting. Maybe that was right. Life was boring. Everything was so steady and stable. Nothing exciting anymore. It’s possible. He could have imagined a connection.

But his wife accidentally stoked the dying flame of his suspicions.

When he told her everything, about Alastor and the dancer he chased down and the missing Tommy, she hummed.

“He could be like that Holmes man in Chicago.” She smiled from across the meat and potatoes she’d slow cooked over the day.

Brady asked what she meant.

“He killed all these people at his hotel. On the outside he was a very fine looking man! Respected doctor, or something.” She took her time to chew, leaving Brady waiting for the point, “Turns out his hotel had some secret dungeon where he killed people. I’m fuzzy on the details, but, he hung for it. Maybe your guy has a secret room in his house or a cabin in the woods.”

He would have kissed her but he was too tired to move. As she continued on, changing to the topic of novels and then movies, he pushed the potatoes around his plate.

No way work would listen to him if he suggested it. He’d lost all of his goodwill. But, as a citizen, he could maybe just….look into the public records for the radio man. Any convenient structures he owned. No one needed to know, no embarrassment if he was wrong again.

Just, one more check. To be absolutely sure. For his peace of mind.

“So he murdered the actress for threatening to reveal he was only half white! It was a real shock. I swear talkies just get more and more intriguing.” She beamed sweetly across the table, happy to have him home, “By Hitchcock. Isn’t that a hoot?”

He nodded absentmindedly, “Sounds fun, dear.”

She let the misplaced comment go, and moved to turn on the radio. Something to fill the silence. She wondered if her favorite program was on, though it was a little late for that.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The day finally came, your highly anticipated and scheduled confession. Saturday morning you slipped on your shoes, pushing back thoughts of everything they’d seen, and slid into the car. You had a game plan. Apartment, get your stash and change out your shoes. Head to the phonograph shop on Calliope and grab the record. Flower shop, something bright and fragrant. Stop by the theater for a bottle of whatever they were willing to part with. Call him from there to pick you up behind the building.

Flawless.

Honestly, the easy part.

Alastor dropped you off in front of your building and you kissed him hurriedly. You didn’t need Ephi bounding down the steps and introducing herself.

You didn’t need Ephi, full stop.

“I’ll call you from the theater so I can wait inside. Lo-,” Your mouth opened to say it, as you’d been practicing it in your head all week, “Lucky me I’m still welcome there.” A quick save.

You waved him off and bounded up the steps. Ephi answered when you knocked, hair disheveled and still wearing the dress she must have worn out the night before.

A familiar dress.

“Who said you could wear my clothes?!” You kicked the door closed behind you.

Ephi fell back onto your bed with a creaking of the metal springs, “You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

Barely a second into the room and you were already reeling with anger. What a skill she had.

Shoes off, you threw them on top of the closet out of her natural reach and searched for something flatter. Not too flat though. Alastor always looked too good for you to look like you didn’t care for what was fashionable.

Deep breaths, you grabbed the dresser with both hands and wretched it from the wall, startling Ephi back awake.

“What the fuck? Are you taking the furniture?! It’s a fucking dress.”

Relief as you saw the handkerchief still taped to the backboard of the shelf. Ripping it off, you shoved it into your bag. No need to count it, had Ephi found the cash the entire thing would be gone already.

“Are you hiding money around your apartment…,” it wasn’t a question so much as an oddly worded accusation.

Your march to the door paused, briefly entertaining carrying your remaining clothes around with you but abandoning the idea. Let her borrow them for now, you were busy today.

You were gone without a goodbye, anger simmering away and evaporating with every block.

As the distance between your problem and you became greater, the gap was closing in on Alastor and his.

He was in the kitchen splashing his face with water, dusty from sweeping the porch, when he heard a car door slam shut. Not a normal sound for him to hear. Even more out of place than a ‘welcome home’. A moment of concern as he quickly dried his hands, maybe you had gotten a ride home already. It was possible he missed your call, but he’d kept the windows open to hear the phone.

When he came to the front door, no one was there. A car was parked a ways behind his own though. Alastor stepped out and looked around the wrap around porch before turning back and going to the back door. Past the stairs and the kitchen doorway, he could see the shape of a man. He was standing in front of the greenhouse with both hands on his hips, staring at it. Bright hair reflecting the sun.

The screen door whined as Alastor opened it, announcing him much sooner than he had wanted. It was finally happening. The moment that was both inevitable and fiercely guarded against.

“Census information is quite easy to find with a name like yours.”

Alastor tried to muster a hospitable smile, “Detective Brady. To what do I owe the sudden visit?”

Brady turned around and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, “I need to go get a warrant?”

The air between them tightened. “Not at all, did you want to come inside?”

Brady nodded, a smug smile and a wink, “Sure do.”

Alastor returned to the kitchen for the key, grabbing a small paring knife and placing it in the back pocket of his slacks. Sharp and quick.

“Wasn’t expecting guests…,” he admitted as he came back down the clean steps. He was never expecting guests, but he had been expecting this.

“Good.” Brady clapped his hands together, “Quite the building ya got here.” He followed Alastor in and immediately looked up to the tall ceiling. “An uncommon thing to have. Only seen them at real fancy public places.”

Alastor turned right, following the winding path of busy shelves and potted trees with a practiced ease. Brady watched him slip between two large plants and hesitated.

With a hand on his gun, be pushed through.

“Ya know what my wife and I were just talking about?” He followed close behind. He couldn’t see Alastor but he could hear the leaves rustling. “H. H. Holmes.”

“Another missing manager?” Alastor asked from the other side of some crowded shelves.

“It’s thought he killed 9 people up in Chicago.” Brady emerged from the makeshift jungle to see Alastor standing in the center.

“Busy man!” Alastor stood with his hands behind his back, sheathed in his pockets. “This is where the magic happens!” He nodded to the stainless steel table. “My gardening space.”

Brady looked at the table, then up to the high ceilings again. He took a step toward the table and crouched down.

His heels sunk in. Standing, he pressed his shoe in the soil around the table. Backing off he then tested the ground some feet away. It was noticeably firmer. “Ground sure is soft over there.”

“Water! Turns out plants love the stuff. Who knew!” Alastor’s fingers curled around the knife’s handle, “I prune, propagate, and repot them here and rinse it off after. Due to the shade of the table, the ground tends to stay wet longer.” He wondered if Brady had told anyone where he was. Maybe Freeman?

The whole thing could be expedited by letting him bleed out on the greenhouse floor. Just a few swipes and this could all be over. He could maybe even have him gone before you called.

Another little secret. Just one. Brady’s life was an insignificant detail.

Plausible, the detective thought. Brady examined the floor closer, unaware of Alastor’s eyes locked on his neck. He didn’t see much of a soft spot. It’d be improbable to bury all the bodies in such a small space. He’d have to dig too deep.

“So you actually do like to garden?” He asked.

Alastor laughed, “No, that was a lie. This is all meticulously maintained for aesthetics.”

Brady’s own laugh was dry in reply, the joke not funny or appreciated, “Night gardening?” He pointed his chin up to the light hanging above them.

“I prefer early mornings, before work.” Alastor leaned back on his heels, he’d waited for this conversation for years. It was almost fun. Brady didn’t know how predictable his arrival had been on some vague level.

Brady nodded and motioned for Alastor to lead him out. He didn’t want the man behind him.

As they snaked their way out again, Alastor fought the sickening feeling in his stomach to just do it.

But he’d never acted quite so impulsively. He normally had a few hours to think it out beforehand.

He’d been thinking this out for months now in a way, though, hadn’t he?

Alastor locked the door after Brady stepped out and Brady looked around the land. He couldn’t see any fences, but saw on his way in just how spread out the other homes were.

“How far is the property line, if you don’t mind me asking? Seems to be quite a large parcel.” He had a rough idea from the paperwork he’d found.

“It’s about 15 acres, from what I recall.” It was exactly 14.2 acres according to the paperwork. He knew every step by heart.

As he watched Brady eye the land with a dismissive glance, he realized he’d never killed anyone at his home. It didn’t seem to be a good idea. Like they’d taint the land. Plus, killing the cop in the backyard was about as opposite of what you’d asked of him as he could get.

The detective slapped his notebook against his palm and whistled, “Radio pays well, huh?”

“Better than a detective, maybe. But this was all my mother’s land.” He said it with pride, one hand leaving his pocket to gesture at the house and beyond.

“Your mother. And she… how exactly did someone like her get her hands on a plot like this?” Brady squinted at the tree line, knowing full well how he said it. “Quite a bit of land for someone of her… background.” He quickly turned his full body to Alastor, “You see that movie, ‘Murder!’, by Hitchcock? My wife was saying how interesting it was over dinner the other night. Your receptionist mentioned you like the movies.”

Alastor bristled, he’d seen the film and picked up the tone being taken, “Did you want to see anything else, Kenneth? Or did you drive all the way here to quiz me on your wife's morbid interests?”

“Detective Brady.” He corrected.

“Maybe in the Orleans parish.” Alastor took a step toward him. He reveled in the confused expression Brady made. “Oh you didn’t realize when you crossed the lake? This is St. Tammany. You’re out of jurisdiction.” Another step. “So I’ll call you whatever I damn well please.”

Brady finally noticed the dwindling space between them and the shadow of the house creeping over Alastor’s face. “Maybe I should head out and get that warrant.”

Alastor’s arms went out in a shrug, “Ah, well, good luck finding a judge to approve you harassing a law abiding land owner for…what exactly? A drugged out criminal who stopped showing up to work? Forgive me for not holding my breath. Now kindly get the fuck off my mother’s property. “

Brady shook his head, not able to do much more. He couldn’t process the truth in what Alastor had said. “Have a good day, Alastor.”

“And you have a safe night, Kenneth.”

Brady stopped, hand curling into a fist that Alastor didn’t fail to notice.

“Is that some kind of threat?” It was the way he dragged out the two words. The gleeful range in which he said them.

“Not at all. A warning really, there’s been some unhinged man harassing dancers lately. Demanding their private information, accusing them of silly crimes. Has the station not heard?” Alastor’s finger came to his chin inquisitively, “Perhaps I should give them a call. Who was your boss again. Freeman, was it?”

Brady felt his stomach drop, “What did you say.” If Alastor hadn’t been with you since before the assault, how did he know that Brady had been struggling to track you down?

“As a man about town who runs in important circles, word travels fast of bothersome people. Helps us learn where to avoid.”

Brady was still holding onto hope that Alastor was your man but now, his throat ran dry. He got more than that.

A man who ran in various circles of the nightlife scene.

A man above the fray, a position afforded to him by the respect of his job.

A man people talked to often, therefore a man people saw everywhere. So it was never odd that he was always in the places where people went missing. He was ubiquitous. Where the jazz played, Alastor was there.

A man with no wife to complain so his nights were free.

A large piece of land. A chip on his shoulder.

“You son of a bitch…I didn’t tell you Tommy had been involved in drugs. I was right.” The sentence got quieter and softer as he trailed on until he could only whisper, “You killed him.”

Alastor watched the color drain from Brady’s face as the realization hit, but the ‘son’ comment blanketed his frontal cortex and dampened impulse control, “On second thought; yes.”

It was just an expression, son of a bitch, but it’d been the wrong one to use so carelessly. Alastor’s heart was pounding in his ears and behind his eyes.

The detective kept his gaze locked on Alastor as he fished out his keys. His hand shook violently as he tried to get the car door key in his fingers. “Yes what?” Glancing down for a fraction of a second to check he had the right one.

“That was a threat.”

Alastor’s hand twitched, he fought the rage bubbling up his throat. His vision was beginning to turn red around the edges. He could hear Aubrey squeaking out the first syllable of that damn word just behind his left ear.

Perhaps he was the blade hanging over Brady’s head.

With even paces he walked over to the stump where he chopped wood and pulled the axe out, “Ya know! Something about you makes my fucking skin crawl.” He pointed it at Brady, the detective taking note of the arm strength needed to hold the unevenly heavy tool steady and parallel to the ground. “I do hope for your sake this is our final meeting. You should leave now.” His head titled to the left, “And keep your nose clean, Kenneth. It’s a dangerous time for bad men in New Orleans.”

Brady walked backwards to his car as Alastor advanced briskly with the blade still raised. When they reached the front porch Brady turned and booked it, glancing behind to see Alastor standing beside the porch on foot worn grass.

As the car started Alastor dropped the axe until it’s flat top of the blade rested on the ground and he leaned his weight onto it akin to a cane. His free hand’s fingers waved goodbye before dropping down to his side limply. He stood there with eyes fixed and body still as a predator waiting for its opportunity. How many gators had Brady watched from the shore with just that look? He peeled out, sight unseen as he blindly backed onto the unpaved road, and made a beeline to the nearest phone.

He had to tell someone. He was right. He had been right the whole time. Alastor killed Tommy Dupre. And there was no doubt in Brady’s swirling mind that you knew that fact.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #Human Alastor x reader #alastor smut

189 notes · View notes

topguncortez · 10 months ago

Note

Maybe blurb from crying prompt idk if this would be a hide or hold maybe both? But the reader holds her emotions in during a family thing because she's the oldest sibling and she feels like she has to be strong because that's how her family was raised and then she gets a moment and they tell her to stop being strong and that it's okay to let it out. I'm thinking either Bradley or Jake?

Hold My Hand - J. Seresin x Reader

synopsis: you get a phone call that no child ever wants to get, and as the "rock" of the family, you aren't allowed to break.

warnings: parental death, trauma, parental abandonment, incorrect medical jargon, mental abuse, grief, depression

note: I know this was supposed to only be a blurb, but I started writing and I couldn't stop. These past 16 days have been hell and there was something about writing this that just felt so freeing, like the cloud hanging over me has finally been lifted.

it had felt like a lifetime had passed, but in reality, it had only been 10 days.

10 days since that frightening phone call on that cold January day.

10 days since your mother called you, sound incoherent on the phone but you managed to gather the gist of it.

10 days since you had rushed out of your house, your hair half done, your husband chasing after you like you had lost your mind.

10 days since your father so bravely rushed into a burning building, saving other children and leaving you, your siblings and your mother behind.

You were angry, at first. Angry at the world for allowing this to happen. Angry at your father for playing superman when he was just a regular man. Angry at the other people standing around who didn’t have the same courage to run into the fire instead of standing by and yelling at your father to turn back. Angry that this was going to be the end; that your mother would be a widow at a young age, your youngest sisters wouldn’t have their father to walk them down the aisle, your children wouldn’t ever have another “grandpa day”, that you’d never get another hug and an “i love you” from your father again.

You wanted to cry. You wanted to shut out the world, force the cameras away, force the sorrowful looks from others away, force the heavy weight of your heart onto someone else.

But you couldn't. You had to be the strong one. For your mother. For your siblings. For your own children.

Jake had been watching you like a hawk since you had gotten that phone call. The morning started out like any other morning, with the two of you waking up before the sun was in the sky, making sure you had enough time to do a quick at-home workout and a run. You had been working on packing the kids' lunches when you got that call. He had to pry the keys out of your hands, telling you that your mother didn't need you and your father in the hospital.

Jake had eyed you the whole drive, noticing the redness and the unshed tears in your eyes. The way that you clutched the dainty silver cross around your neck between your fingers. The way that you sniffled every so often, trying to hold back the tears. But the second you stepped into the hospital, seeing the distressing look on your mother's face and the waiting room full of fellow firemen, you rolled your shoulders back and pushed back your own sadness and grief.

Those 10 days had been the best and worst of your life. You hardly left the hospital, unless Jake was physically forcing you to leave. You hardly ate, hardly slept, hardly took care of yourself. Your mind was so worried about everyone else except yourself. For 9 days, you had believed that maybe, just maybe, your father would pull through. But that all came crashing down on day 10, when your father's brain had swelled and his doctor's pronounced him brain dead.

"Y/N," Your mother had spoke, looking over at you as the doctor stood in front of your family. Jake shifted in his seat, putting his hand on your thigh, "You need to do it."

"What?"

"No," You and Jake spoke at the same time.

Your mother shook her head, "I can't be the one. . .," Tears clogged her throat, "I can't be the one who takes him-"

Jake scoffed, sitting up straight in his chair, his grip tightening on your thigh, "And you want your daughter to-"

"Jake," You sighed. There was no use in fighting. After all, you were the eldest. You knew eventually you would be the one who gets stuck making the medical choices for your parents. You just assumed you'd have more time to prepare. You rolled your shoulders back and looked at the doctor, "What do I need to sign?"

"It was such a lovely service," Your aunt Marjorie said, patting Jake's hand as he spoke to him. It was true, you had done a fantastic job planning a funeral for your father, all by yourself. Jake had helped you the best that he could, going with you to pick out a casket and a grave plot and music and flowers, "That Y/N was always Lee's favorite."

"I know," Jake gave Aunt Marjorie his best gentleman smile, the one that made his dimple pop out, "She's a special girl."

"Oh and how brave she was standing in front of everyone and speaking?" Aunt Marjorie placed her hand on her heart. Jake nodded his head, wishing that he could be anywhere else than in a conversation with Aunt Marjorie, "And that Miranda," Aunt Marjorie scoffed, looking over at where your mother sat stoic on the couch, "Looks like she's going to be the next to go."

Jake clenched his jaw, pulling his eyes away from your mother. He had his own thoughts and feelings about her, ones that he had shared with you one night during a heated fight.

"She has abandoned you!" Jake yelled, as you angrily pulled the blankets back on the bed. You were exhausted and just wanted to sleep in your bed for one night. You had managed to get your mother to stay with your father for the night, which was like pulling teeth, "You need her to be the parent and she's not."

"She is grieving too, Jake," You sighed.

"And you're not!?"

"I am," You ran a hand down your face, "I just handle it differently. I've always been the strong rock. The one who doesn't cry. The one who holds others when they cry," You sat down on the bed, your body heavy with exhaustion.

"And I know that, baby," Jake rounded the bed, and sat down beside you. He grabbed your hand, holding it in his own, "You are strong. You are incredibly fucking strong. . . but you shouldn't have to be the strong one right now. You shouldn't be the one pulling all nighters by your dad's side. You shouldn't be the one making medical decisions on your father's behalf. Even though you are an adult. . . Y/N, baby, you're still his child. Your mother should-"

"I don't want to have this conversation anymore," You pulled your hand away from Jake, "My mom isn't well, and she needs me to help her-"

"Bullshit," Jake scoffed, "She is abandoning you and you know it."

You clenched your jaw, holding back the anger radiating in your body. Jake held a tiny bit of hope that maybe, just maybe you'd lash out at him. That you'd show some type of emotion after being a near zombie these past 8 days. But instead, you stood up quietly and left the room, choosing to go sleep in your son's room instead.

Jake had drown out Aunt Marjorie's talking, his eyes landing on you across the room. You had opened up your home to your family, your father's fire crew, Jake's squad and friends for a meal and drinks following the funeral. You had done a great job at not falling apart during the service or the burial, but Jake could tell that the rope was starting to fray. And right now, it was about to snap as you were talking animatedly with your sister across the room in a small alcove.

"Hey, Aunt Marjorie," Jake turned back to look at the 80 year old woman, "It was lovely catching up with you, but I need to go help Y/N with something. We should do coffee some time."

"Oh yes, that'd be-"

"Great, see you later," Jake quickly made his way over to you, not bothering to hear the rest of Aunt Marjorie's response.

The last thing you wanted to do in a houseful of guests from your father's funeral, was get into an argument with your sister, but here you were. Claire was the baby of the family, the one who got away with the most. Your relationship with Claire was rocky, as the line between sister and mother-figure had gotten crossed while you were growing up. You wanted what was best for Claire, and sometimes that required extra tough love and parenting.

"You are high!" You exclaimed.

"I am not," Claire's voice was slightly slurred. Jake's nose scrunched up as he walked into the room, smelling the distinct scent of marijuana.

"My whole damn shed smells like marijuana, Claire," You crossed your arms over your chest, "This isn't like you. What is going on? Talk to me."

"Oh god," Claire rolled her eyes, "Here she goes again. Acting like my mother!"

"Well!" You scoffed, throwing your arms in the air. Jake stood behind you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. In the past couple days, you had shrugged off any sort of comfort that Jake offered you, but now, you welcomed it, "You smoked a joint before you walked into dad's funeral! Smoked another one in my shed, where your niece and nephew play. And don't even get me started on how you reeked like vod-"

"Y/N," Your mother's voice filled the air, making all three of you look towards her, "Let's not do this now."

"No," You shook your head, "Let's do this now. Your daughter is high. She smoked up in my garage and then walked into my house smelling like a dispensary."

Your mom looked over at your sister and then back at you. You felt a pang in your chest as you watched her silently side with your sister. The familiar burning sensation of tears prickled at your eyes and nose.

"She's grieving," Your mother simply answered.

You scoffed, "And who isn't?"

"Y/N,"

"Forget it," You shook your head, "It's nothing, it's fine. It's always fucking fine."

For the rest of the afternoon, you made yourself busy, staying far away from your mother and sister. Jake remained within arms reach of you, his presence comforting and not overbearing. You had finally sat down, and managed to get something in your stomach. It must've been evident on your face, but the guests had only said a couple words to you before going on their way. It took nearly four hours, but all the guests had left, filling your house with a silence you hadn't heard in nearly 10 days.

Jake had taken the burden of cleaning everything up, while you sat on the back porch, watching the sunset with a glass of wine in your hand. The cool San Diego winter breeze felt nice against your heated skin.

"The house is finally, back to normal," Jake announced as he walked out onto the back porch. Natasha had gratefully volunteered to take your children for the night, so you and Jake could decompress.

"Thank you, daddy," You smiled sweetly at him, as he sat down next to you on the porch swing.

"Of course, baby," He said, and held out a white gift box, "Someone left this for you."

You furrowed your eyebrows, taking the box from him and lifting the lid. Your breath caught in your throat as you lifted the small, gold pocket watch from the box.

"Y/N," Jake said softly.

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes, "I always wanted this," You ran your hand over the engraved hummingbird on the gold casing, "It was from my grandfather's jewelry store and it quit working. My dad said he was going to get it fixed and give it to me as a wedding gift, but he lost it. . . I-I don't know-"

"Well, does it work?" Jake asked.

You swallowed, opening the face of the watch open. To your surprise, it did work. The second hand ticked around in perfect time as the watch seemed to already be set to the correct time. The beautiful watch had a colorful humming bird painted onto the face in the middle of the black Roman numeral numbers, and gold watch hands.

"It's perf- oh, c'mon," You cursed, as the watch stopped ticking. You tapped the glass face a couple of times, trying to maybe, just maybe get it up and ticking, "C'mon! You just. . . worked! C'mon!"

"Baby," Jake spoke, gently placing his hand on your wrist.

"No! It has to work! It has to!"

"Baby, it's okay," Jake assured you, "It's o-"

"Nothing is okay!" You snapped, looking up at him as the tears had finally escaped your eyes, "Nothing about any of this is okay!" You pushed yourself up from the porch swing, rushing to the edge of the patio and throwing the watching across the yard with a scream. Jake closed his eyes as loud sobs escaped from your lugs, as the grief had finally seemed to rush to you.

He stood up from the porch swing and enveloped you in his arms. You sagged against him, feeling his arms tighten around you to be able to hold you up. Jake hushed you, placing a hand on the back of your head, and his chin on the top.

"Let it out, baby," Jake encouraged you, running a hand over your hair, "Let it all out, baby."

You weren't sure how long you stood there in Jake's arms and cried, but he eventually picked you up, after feeling your legs grow weak. He carried you through the house, to your shared bedroom, sitting you down gently on the bed. You didn't even need to tell him what to do as he moved through the bedroom with familiarity, grabbing you nightgown, taking you out of your dress, washing the make-up from your face and applying your moisturizer.

"What do you need from me, baby?" Jake asked, as he kneeled in front of you, sliding your socks on your feet.

"I don't know," Your voice was raspy as you looked at him confused, "I've never. . . I've never felt-"

"I know," Jake nodded his head, "I know you haven't, and it can be scary the first time you just. . . lose it all." Jake could remember the first time he had ever broken down like you had. It was terrifying as he cried and destroyed the things around him. It felt like it was never going to end as one thing after another had set him off, until he was on the ground in the fetal position, withering, "But it will all be okay. I'm here to help you. Let me help you."

You nodded your head, tears springing to your eyes again. Jake cooed, and pulled you into his arms again as the tears fell down your cheeks.

taglist: @desert-fern @mygyn @cherrycola27 @sio-ina-bottle @seitmai @topgun-imagines @bradleybeachbabe @na-ta-sh-aa @startrekfangirl2233 @xoxabs88xox @atarmychick007 @lunamoonbby @sophiaslastbraincell @bradswolfe @fandom-princess-forevermore @thedroneranger @angelbabyange @dempy @lovelywiseprincess @krismdavis @eternallyvenus @dakotakazansky @pono-pura-vida @starberryhorse @daggersquadphantom @gspenc @poppyalice2001 @els-marvelvsp @nyx2021 @frazie99 @t0kyoreveng3rs @kmc1989 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @malindacath @badasspizzalover @justenoughmadnesss @sagittarius-flowerchild @hardballoonlove @harrysgothicbitch @hookslove1592 @yujibubs @noonenuts @marvellouscroissant

taglist form

446 notes · View notes

wangxianficfinder · 3 months ago

Text

I'm in the mood for...

Aug 21st

~*~

1. hii! ITMF fics where the cultivation world finds out the truth about the Wen remnants in burial mounds either through a memory viewing/array spying thing at a discussion conference or someone personally visiting the burial mounds and sees the truth for themselves. Some of the fics I've enjoyed that has this: A Step in the Wrong Direction by pupeez4eva, Revealing Truth by DreamNightmare, The Path by Seastar98, Green-gege Saves a lot of Lives by Eternal_writes, Righteous at a Cost by thunderwear

Teen Project to Change the World by animeloverhomura (Not Rated, WIP, 841k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, Watching the Show, With a bit of the Manhua and Book thrown in, BAMF WWX, Fix-It, JGS is his own warning, Attractive WWX, Homophobia, disturbing imagery)

Misunderstood by Silver_Flame_2724 (M, 250k, WIP, WangXian, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Heavy Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Worth Issues)

Discordant Rhapsody by nirejseki (T, 49k, LQR & WWX, wangxian, JC & WWX, WQ & WWX & WN, LWJ & LQR & LXC, canon divergence, fix-it, hurt/comfort, trauma, politics, protective LQR, protective LWJ, protective WWX, LQR centric, whump, angst)

Grave dirt by esama (T, 92k, WangXian, canon divergence, yiling wei sect au, demonic cultivation, farming, found family, pre-slash, politics, fix-it of sorts)

while covered in mud by merthurlin (T, 12k, NHS & WWX, NHS & NMJ, NHS & Wen remnants, mentioned wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, NHS goes farming and Hates It)

~*~

2. Hi! I could have sworn there were reaction fics where both the older wangxian and younger wangxian were there but I can't find any right now, could you help me?

~*~

3. Hi!!!!! Itmf request for any fics where LWJ is uber powerful and pampers the hell out of WWX but the focus isn't on smut? I don't mind sex being included,I just don't want it to be 90% of the fic or the driving plot point! Thank you!!! <3

我的皇后是農民 | sowing seeds in the cold palace by sweetlolixo (E, 84k, WangXian, Imperial Palace, Emperor LWJ, Imperial Consort WWX, Farmer WWX, Angst, Romance, Wingman LJY, Wife-chasing-LWJ, Arranged Marriage, Best Boy A-Yuan)

願陛下 | by his majesty's decree by sweetlolixo (E, 40k, WangXian, Imperial Palace, Emperor LWJ, Concubine WWX, Harems, Pining LWJ, LWJ is not a dragon in this one but he descended from them :), Childhood Sweethearts (sort of), Romance, minimal angst, Happy Ending, NHS & WWX are concubine BFFs, LWJ has NO EYES for anyone besides WWX don’t worry the harem is only for the plot setting, Fantasy, Pregnant WWX, Possessive LWJ, Fluff)

To Deliver an Heir by cerbykerby (E, 49k, WangXian, slight dubcon/noncon but wangxian are into it, A/B/O, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Heat Sex, Knotting, Royalty Medical, Emperor LWJ, Physician WWX, Mpreg, Postpartum Depression, Breeding, Creampie, LWJ literally cannot stop himself from coming in WWX, Breastfeeding)

~*~

4. Any good outside pov fics? ITMF any fic where a character sees wangxian's bond or is surprised at how much wwx can get away with irt the rules with lwj. Just... Idrc about the plot, I just wanna see some reactions to wangxian lol! Preferably not a modern or no cultivation au tho, I love the canon universe too much!!

pitfalls of greed by glitteringmoonlight (T, 3k, WangXian, POV Outsider, BAMF WWX, Kidnapping, Violence, YLLZ WWX, not exactly but the vibes are there, Post-Canon)

The following are time travel fics but involve outsiders being astonished by Wei Wuxian & Lan Wangji's behavior towards each other

trouble with time by cloudpd (T, 5k, WangXian, Time Travel, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, POV Outsider, Humor, POV JC, he's so fed up with wangxian, rightfully so, wangxian are shameless, kind of crack, JC's inner dialogue for this whole fic is just: what the fuck, POV LXC, because LXC deserves to be subjected to gross wangxian as well!!, the third chapter is LJY going "WWX rights!!", and that's all im going to say about that, horny wangxian time travel: the thrilling conclusion)

Wait, What? by MarbleGlove (G, 1k, WangXian, Time Travel, POV Outsider)

the world is but a stage for the two of us by MandMandM (Not Rated, 10k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Established Relationship, Shameless WangXian)

~*~

5. Hello, can i get wangxian fic recs where meng yao is a good guy and close friends with wei wuxian? canonverse, modern day, etc doesn't matter. I'd also love wangxian recs where they adopt jingyi please <3

Meng Yao becomes more like a brother to Wei Ying than a close friend so I hope these are okay:

what builds a home by Stratisphyre (T, 45k, WangXian, MY & WWX, Canon Divergence, Adopted WWX, POV Multiple, warning for JGS behaving exactly as expected, child endangerment, Brother Feels, Minor Character Death, [Podfic] Cold read of "what builds a home" by Stratisphyre by KeriArentikaiPods (KeriArentikai))

and

Debts of a Child Part 2 by Hauntcats (M, 111k, WangXian, YZY Bashing, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots of anger, JC Bashing, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters., hurt no comfort for Jiang siblings.) (link in 8C)

Meng Yao vs. the Board of the Homeowner's Association Series by Ariaste (M/T, 119k, WIP, XiYao, WangXian, Modern AU, Established Relationship, xiyao and wangxian are both already married, Family Feels, Domestic Fluff, Family Bonding, Slice of Life, Discussions of Past Trauma, wwx's canonical kinks, HOAverse)

~*~

6. Hello! I finished reading Digging Graves by nirejseki so i am itmf any fics where someone asks/begs wei wuxian to bring someone back to life/turn someone they loved who died into a fierce corpse. Thanks :D

some good mistakes by Lise (T, 18k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Road trips, rescue Missions, Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Conversations, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, [Podfic] some good mistakes by kisahawklin)

~*~

7. Hi! for the next itmf, i was wondering if there are any fics where wei wuxian gets his core back after giving it to jiang cheng? not him cultivating a new core but getting his original core back

i just find that idea fascinating. thank you for your help always!!

A Child’s Wish by Hauntcats (Not rated, 13k, wangxian, WWX & Wen remnants, Celestial meddling, Not JC Friendly, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone gets what they deserve, Age Regression/De-Aging, Child LWJ)

💖 Return to Sender by Thesaurus_with_no_words (M, 73k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, BAMF WWX , WangXian Get a Happy Ending, YLLZ WWX, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Not Everyone Dies, canon JC characteristics, Temporary Amnesia, Partial Memory Loss, Literal Emotional Manipulation, Unreliable Narrator, Unreliable Narrator WWX, they are all unreliable ok, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon typical horror and gore, Slow Burn)

The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence)

Can’t Tell Me Nothin by natacup82 (T, 35k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, Family Feels, Communication, BAMF Women)

~*~

8. Hello! itmf these three types of fics:

A) canonverse, Madam Lan lives, wangxian (i didnt know madam lan lives was a tag now I need to see how her existence in canon can change the storyline and wangxian as a whole)

B) Yiling Wei Sect fics (could be wangxian or other wei wuxian M/M ships)

C) Fics where Wei Wuxian takes disciples (whether as Yiling Wei sect Yiling Patriarch or any other reason... preferably xue yang or mo xuanyo)

8A)

💖 An Unexpected Visitor by Hauntcats (G, 8k, QHJ/Madam Lan, wangxian, fix-it of sorts, not Jiang friendly, not jin friendly, happy ending)

Every Mother's Son by Chrononautical (T, 11k, WangXian, Madam Lán Lives, Madam Lán Deserves Better, Madam Lán Leaves Cloud Recesses, Madam Lan rescues women from abusive husbands in feudal Japan and honestly that's so valid of her, mentions of rape/non-con between Madam Lan & Qingheng-Jun)

no step had trodden black by Stratisphyre (T, 32k, wangxian, LQR & WWX, JYL/JZX, canon divergence, madam lan lives, past rape, golden core reveal, hurt/Comfort, referenced to attempted suicide & suicidal thoughts, canon-typical violence)

8B)

🔒 a star called sun by thelastdboy (E, 120k, wangxian, SL/XXC, JC & JYL & WWX, JYL & LWJ, WWX & WN & WQ, JYL/JZX, Canon Divergence after Xuanwu Cave, Fall of Lotus Pier, But worse!, Power Imbalance, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Not Everyone Dies AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Major Character Injury, Loss of Limbs, Chronic Illness, Seizures, WWX’s Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Wēn Remnants Live, Wēn Remnants Deserve Better, WWX Creates a Sect | Yílíng Wèi Sect, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute LWJ, Service Animals, Crows)

body and soul by TooSel (E, 41k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Marriage Proposal, Everyone Lives AU, Cultivation Sect Politics, Yílíng Wèi Sect AU, Adoption, Smut, Friends to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Grave dirt by esama (T, 92k, WangXian, canon divergence, yiling wei sect au, demonic cultivation, farming, found family, pre-slash, politics, fix-it of sorts)

💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27, Mojo’s post)

Run Off The World by Sapphire_Roses (M, 302k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, SL/XXC, WIP, Not Everyone Dies AU, Canon Divergence, Wen Remnants Live, Flashbacks, YLLZ WWX, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei Sect, Sect Leader WWX, Married WangXian, OCs, POV Outsider, Morally Grey Characters, (Do Take That Tag Seriously), Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Developing Friendships, Fluff, Attempt at Humor, Yunmeng Siblings Feels, Gusu Siblings Feels, Sibling Bonding, Pining, Character Study, Tenderness, Mild Smut, POV Alternating, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Minor Character Death) link in #8C

the sea meets the moon-blanched land by rkivees (G, 44k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Childhood Trauma, Sect Leader WWX, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WQ, Good Parent LQR, First Love, Love Confessions, minor jiang sibs appearance, Mentioned LXC, Past Child Abuse, Drunken Shenanigans, Past Violence, No Golden Core Transfer, Non-Linear Narrative)

8C)

🔒necromancy is a valid career path! Series by coslyons, Skadiseven (T, 41k, WangXian, XY & WWX & WN & WQ, Modern with Magic AU, Seattle, Necromancy, Found Family, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Gardens & Gardening, Mathematics, Running, Growing up)

~*~

9. Heyo, this is for ITMF!

Can you rec any fics that have WWX return to his old body? Can be post-canon or during canon after his resurrection. I wanna see how people react to him being in his Glorious Beautiful Sexy self :>

Transcend by covalentbonds (not rated, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff and Humor, Smut, YLLZ WWX is prettiest fight me) features Wei Ying transforming into his original body and being lusted after.

Tripped at Every Step by brooklinegirl (E, 28k, WangXian) These

the hidden source is the watchful heart by o_honeybees (E, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Domesticity, Touch-Starved, Grief/Mourning, Misunderstandings, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Unresolved Sexual Tension,Eventual Smut, reflections on selfishness and selflessness) fics

This House of Ill Repute by Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (M, 13k, WangXian, First Time, Post-Canon, Getting Together) also have Wei Ying in his original body but it's not the focus of the story

Saw My Life in a Stranger's Face by timetoboldlygo (T, 27k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Married Life, Domestic Fluff, Light Angst, wwx's face changes post-canon to look like his original face, Slight Panic Attack, because lwj doesn't recognize his husband, the mortifying ordeal of not knowing your own body, the terrifying inevitability of change, taller!wwx theory)

~*~

10. hello! thank you for the work you do.. do you have recs for novel canon only (no cql) fics?

~*~

11. hello this is for itmf! do you have any fics where sizhui remembers wei wuxian after the fever/doesn't lose his early memories, or lan wangji making the effort to talk about wei wuxian to sizhui? thank you!

although my mind is young, it is not gentle by everythingispoetry ( T, 27k, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Disability, Parenthood, Growing Up, Family Dynamics, Character Study, Self-Discovery) Sizhui doesn't really know who he remembers about but there are moments of him remembering wei wuxian through dreams

~*~

12. I was rewatching the show recently and got to the scene where the Lan juniors and LWJ all stood in front of WWX when Jin Ling approached him in the caves after the stabbing. I was wondering for ITMF if there were any fics where the juniors are protective of WWX? Preferably if Sizhui is a prominent character in the fics, but I'll take any junior being protective tbh. Thank you!

🧡 the stone-filled sea by yukla (T, 9k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, Post-Canon, senior wei defense squad, a study of the way prejudice and injustice and anger trickle down from generation to generation)

bespoke by cafecliche (G, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff, LSZ is a very good boy, which is specifically a tag for the fic but also just true in general, mostly novel-compliant but could easily be CQL-compliant too)

🔒 The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (T, 19k, WangXian, In-Universe RPF, Romance Novel, LJY’s sense of justice, OYZZ’s sense of romance, Featuring a surprise appearance by WWX’s oft-absent sense of shame, Look the ducklings just want their sort-of dads to be happy okay?, And it’s not like WWX or LWJ are doing a good job of ensuring their own happiness, LJY rejects canon reality and substitutes his own, highly relatable actually, Post-Canon Fix-It, primarily drama-canon with cameos from novel-canon, Podfic Available, Russian Translation Available)

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (G, 7k, WangXian, Post-Canon, POV Outsider, 5+1 Things) has Lan Jingyi, as well as other Lans, standing up for Wei Ying.

~*~

13. Wwx as royal prince with hidden identity

~*~

14. Wwx gets badly hurt while protecting jzx during jl 100 day celebration

the breaking of your soul (upon my lips) by sunsandships (M, 40k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Mutual Pining, Golden Core Reveal, Happy Ending) Wei Ying gets badly injured at Qiongqi Path while protecting Jin Zixuan in chapter 8 but Wei Ying was escorting betrothal gifts from the Jin, rather than attending Jin Ling's celebration.

Cradle by Dragonesque (T, 196k, WIP, Canon Divergenc, Adopted children, Yiling Wei Sect, BAMF WWX) Wwx gets badly hurt while protecting jzx during jl 100 day celebration - cradle by dragonesque on ao3 (and its inspiration fic) both feature wwx getting badly hurt and origins of yiling wei sect

~*~

15. I finished reading a wangxian oneshot in which lan xichen tries to get wei wuxian in his bed but fails and so...itmf lan xichen/wei wuxian, nie mingjue/wei wuxian, wen ruohan/wei wuxian fic recs. Preferably complete with bottom wei wuxian if they have smut. Thank you!!

The Joke of Fate by ShallChair (E, 357k, LXC/WWX, Canon Divergence, Marriage First Love Later, Love at First Sleep, Smut, First Time, First Kiss, the Flower Banquet's timeline is before Baifeng Mountain hunt so, Comedy, a little bit humor in the lines, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, The man who succeeds in both Love and Career-LXC, Dark LXC, Dark LWJ, The Dark side mean "Fuck off Cultivation World!", The Exchange of Fate, LXC-centric, DoubleJade centric, The one who stands against the world-LXC; A/B/O, Alpha LXC, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Mpreg, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, Scenting, Historical, Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Slight Drama, Bad Parent YZY, Cultivation Empire, Alpha NHS, Older NHS, The flustered Alpha and the handsome Omega, Half Lime Half Plot, YLLZ era, YLLZ WWX, The Thirsty LXC, Martial Arts AU, Wuxia AU, General WWX, Emperor LXC, Qianyuan, Kunze, Zhongyong, Enemy to lover, Concubine WWX, BAMF WWX, Precognitive Dream, the Second elopement, Wen Remnants Live, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Intervention From the Outside World, Teleportation, Sunshot Campaign, Those Days When LXC Chased After YLLZ All Over the Central Plain)

~*~

16. itmf some wwx & jzx bonding similar to 'watch what we'll become' by glitteringmoonlight modern/canon/au it doesn't matter just give me that sweet sweet friendship/brotherly bonding

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 828k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

atlas in his sleepin’ by anatheme (E, 48k, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Reincarnation, Family Reunions, Dimension Travel, temporary transmigration, Transmigrator!LWJ, Yunmeng Shuangjie Reconciliation, jzx motherhenning wwx, First Time, Sharing Clothes, Angst with a Happy Ending, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies)

~*~

17. itmf a fic where wangxian get horny about "ruining" a hole. You know, there's penetration, or a lot of penetration, and the body is different afterwards. Idc who bottoms, omegaverse, consent, whatever. But no underage please. Thanks!

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

92 notes · View notes

vidavalor · 3 days ago

Note

Just on the back of your last post about how Aziraphale and Crowley have been a couple for (literal) ages, of which you have me thoroughly convinced, there's one thing I've never been able to figure out.

In 1941, when Crowley saves the books, what are we seeing from Aziraphale? By this point he knows damned 😉 well that Crowley adores him, so I very much doubt the 'this is when Aziraphale realised his love was returned' theory. Is it to do with their holy water fight?

Apologies if you've covered this already but I've read through your master post and most of your previous posts and couldn't find anything. I keep musing on it and thinking 'oh Vidavalor will know but I shouldn't bother them'!

Ground Control to Mr. Tom! 😊 Hi there. 💕 You are correct that I haven't done a post about this, which feels very much like my all-over-the-place blog, because this is one of the most-discussed scenes in the show. 😂 You are absolutely not a bother! Do not speak such silliness. I'm going to explain my take on that scene with some help from The Archangel Fucking Gabriel. Therefore, there is hot chocolate, should you want a mug.😊

This is also going to be my contribution to the Azirafeast celebrations so I wish any of you reading this many scrumptious returns!

Below the cut is the one in which someone who thinks Crowley and Aziraphale have been lovers since ancient Rome offers an opinion on what's going on with Aziraphale and the books in 1941... by way of a look at what we might be able to learn about this moment from its sister moment in Gabriel & Beez's flashback.

Be them real people or fictional ones, angels-- especially our two, main ones on Good Omens-- are not accustomed to feeling seen.

This is largely because they believe they exist to sacrifice themselves for the protection and betterment of others... that this is literally what they were made by God to do... or at least what they've been told God wants them to do... and, as we know, they've got plenty of questions over all of that.

They can often feel guilty about their consumption of resources-- or their curiosity about doing so in different ways-- when they've been told that those resources and the experiences that come with them are not for them, even if all evidence seems to suggest that might not really be the case.

They are told they are supposed to live small lives of sacrifice and are, as a result, full of conflicts about their hungers, their needs, their desires... about their love, and the want of a free life of their own.

They exhibit perfectionist behaviors, are full of self-criticism, and are excessively self-sacrificing.

Intellectually, they know they are a person with wants and needs like everyone else but they've been taught that they are supposed to be above all of that and breaking free of that abuse comes with negative self-thoughts, anxiety, depression, and a whole slew of other fun struggles.

That attempted thought control and oppression of people that is responsible for these angels' inner torment, though? As The Supreme Archangel aptly puts it while having a total breakdown shown by chasing his metaphorical self (The Fly) around the bookshop and trying to kill it with a Bible...

...it never works.

It might, unfortunately, get some people but it never, ultimately, works in society as a whole for very long because people want to live. People are made to live. They will seek out coffee over death and rebel against any society that seeks to oppress them in whatever way that they can. Eventually, angels who want to break free will find different ways of letting themselves be individuals on their own terms, even as they are still full of conflict about it, as we've seen Aziraphale and Gabriel do throughout the story.

They'll express themselves in different ways but with the same sense of desperation to have something of their own as a way of admitting that they are a person, too.

Maybe, one night, an angel will, say, allow himself to indulge his hungers by eating an entire ox... maybe in front of the demon he'd like to consume with just as much enthusiasm. Maybe those hungers become ones that, despite his inner conflicts that lead to periodic episodes of depression and fasting, this angel will allow himself to otherwise regularly satiate, and in which he finds enjoyment, nourishment, connection and peace, that he would not have otherwise found.

Maybe, on another night, a different angel will let himself slip away from Heaven and return having consumed resources for himself, in the form of a tailor-made suit that serves as proof to himself that he isn't just a symbol but an individual person in his own right. Maybe it gives him a connection to his body that also leads to him jogging and exploring more of the world. Maybe he allows himself the freedom of owning what he can of his own body and own appearance because control over these things have otherwise been taken from him in the process of denying his personhood and making him more of a symbol to be venerated.

While these are good examples of these two angels finding different but similar, healthy paths to recognizing themselves as people, it's one thing to recognize yourself but another thing for someone else to recognize you.

Angels are wonderful at taking care of everyone else but they sometimes have a blind spot when it comes to their own needs and safety. They are so busy taking care of everyone else that they are prone to making mistakes with their own care.

Such as this angel below being so pleased with an opportunity to contribute to the war effort that he missed that he'd accidentally let himself be recruited by the wrong side...

...and needing his partner to identify some Nazis and redirect some bombs to keep him from being discorporated...

...and such as this other angel below being pleased with his ability to show care towards his new partner...

...but also, as we can see by the expression in his reaction to Beez's suggestion above, so unused to being cared for that, even if he was intellectually aware of it, the aspect of partnership involving mutual care was so foreign to him that it threw him for a bit of a loop.

Sometimes, an angel will be going through a period of struggle when it comes to their interactions with the world. It's often times not even just the feeling that they should just be advisors more than active participants and that the world is not for them. They are, in these moments, just imposter syndrome run amok, and that robs them of pursuing that which makes them feel happy and fulfilled.

Loving an angel in this mode requires gentle, genuine, affirming care:

The imposter syndrome modes can strike at any time for angels but tend to do so especially when they've very recently tried to engage with the world in a big way and saw it backfire.

Like when they spend a lot of time trying to sort out their place in the world and regularly go back and forth between being so influential that they personally own and have developed an entire city neighborhood but also then have days when they don't want to open their own bookshop to the world.

Like when they are supposed to be an angel and nothing else but, if they could choose a vocation, they'd be doing card tricks and pulling rabbits out of hats at birthday parties for all of eternity, and they feel so massively guilty about it that they tell themselves that the magic shop is not a place for them.

But maybe never more than like when there is a war on... an absolutely massive, global war... the first atomic war, the war that could bring about Armageddon, for all the angel knows... and everyone in the human world is trying to do their bit as best they can and, one day, a young woman claiming to be British intelligence knocks on the door and says that they need the angel-- this particular angel and only him... this angel who sometimes feels like he doesn't always know how best to help but wants nothing more than to be good and do good and help others.

The Allied Forces needs Mr. Fell for an intelligence mission to help thwart the Nazis and work towards stopping the war. And what do they need from this angel, in particular?

They need his books.

Aziraphale collects books of all kinds but he has two major personal collections that are highlighted in the story. One is humorous and self-aware-- a collection of misprinted Bibles. Those are living proof of the fallacy of language and gospel-- of the bullshit of people. They are comforting to him in their existence, as they reinforce his sense that following what others say is the word of God is not really a better path than following his own moral compass. The Allied Forces don't need these books, though.

They need the other ones that Aziraphale has been collecting forever:

His books of prophecy.

This angel collects written works by humans that profess to be prophetic. He has original works of Nostradamus and Mother Shipton and many others. He has preserved them throughout centuries, keeping them safe in his care, even if the works are, largely, complete and utter balderdash. He has kept these books, nutty as they are, safe from damage and in existence, for years, just in the event that maybe these humans, in some way, really did have answers as to the future of the world in which the angel lives, too.

The one that he knows has been slated to be destroyed around 6,000 years from its inception-- a date that was approaching closer with each breath in 1941.

Was it really going to happen? Was there a way to stop it? Aziraphale has been trying to see if maybe the humans have found a way, studying their prophetic works for centuries upon centuries, anxiously looking for clues on how to stop Armageddon and save the world he loves...

...and also therefore be able, as a result, to stay on Earth with the person he loves and not be separated from him for eternity.

It's these books of this angel-- these beloved, material possessions; these perfect examples of everything that he's been told that he's not supposed to have-- that Captain Rose Montgomery of British Intelligence says that he can provide to entrap some Nazis and help save the world for his fellow humans and his partner.

An angel's biggest blind spot is always wanting to help and never feeling like they're doing enough. They're vulnerable to trusting the wrong people for the right reasons. Their desperation to do good and be good in the face of feeling like they're not a good person at all can cause them to have the best of intentions but be open to manipulation by those with the worst of ones.

Sometimes, it's a human Nazi. Sometimes, it's a supernatural one...

...same difference. Both dangerous. Both examples of an area where an angel might not survive if they don't let in a trusted person who can give to them the same love and care they give to everyone else.

The fallout from making a mistake can be devastating to an angel.

They feel embarrassed and snappish-- the anger and frustration related to the miscalculated situation triggering (and masking) the anxiety and depression to which angels are hardly strangers.

They can retreat into self-doubt. Moments of bravery when it comes to trying again are sometimes just as quickly diluted by their compounding insecurity and the fear that they are just jiggery-pokery and do not belong in the world.

This is when they need their demons the most.

Demons? They are fallen angels.

They know all this about angels because they're not much different themselves.

They have had the experience of having to redefine themselves in the face of being told by their societies that they were no longer angels and, in some ways, that has freed the more introspective demons to have enough perspective to offer counsel to willing angels as to how to manage those conflicts.

These demons, like Crowley and Beez, are uniquely well-suited to loving angels because they have also been through these same conflicts-- and still struggle with many of them.

These demons have experienced violence and violation as a result their angelic conflicts. They are drawn towards the inherent goodness of their angels, who approach them with kindness, respect, and a sense of equality to which the demons are not accustomed but which helps to build trust.

Just as these demons seek to protect these angels from harm that might befall them in the future, the angels we're discussing are both mindful of their partners' pasts and take care to help them feel safe. They are emphatic about their partners' comfort, reinforce their expectations of a partnership involving free choice and equality, and continually make clear that they consider-- and will always consider-- explicit, enthusiastic consent essential.

Their demons' knowledge of the darker aspects of the world also make them uniquely aware of the risks to their angels and they seek to protect them from experiencing the same pain they have felt from trusting the wrong faces. They do everything they can to keep their angels from falling-- literally, as in from Heaven, or more figuratively, as into despair.

They give them music and food and companionship... they open up the world for the angels and help them live life with the other people in the pub, literally and metaphorically. They explore the human world with them and make them feel less alone, letting the angels do the same for them.

Loving an angel is first seeing that angel there and acknowledging their humanity. It's affirming their imperfection as being just part of personhood and holding up that personhood as being worthy of love. It is reflecting back to the angels the same empathy, openness, and lack of judgement as what the angels give to them.

It's seeing that the angel who wrestles with living up to the expectations of the statues in his honor and the titles for which he never asked is, really, an imperfect, good-hearted, kind person beneath his snarky, sharp-edged exterior. It's seeing the depression that clouds his eyes and the fine edges he's walking in Heaven and knowing what comes next more than maybe can see in the moment and protecting him, as best as someone can, from the fallout of those actions.

Beez knows what it is to fall. They see Gabriel already in a downward motion in every way there is and knows that it comes with risk of losing himself, the way that they once did themselves. They dump out the matchsticks because the good kind of fire is already lit between them and the fire of Hell is not for their angel. They gift him a fly-- that which is made from their body. They are Gabriel's container. He is safe by putting all of himself, literally and figuratively, into Beez.

While this is a big moment in the Ineffable Bureaucracy parallel and one that also parallels the holy water, Gabriel's response to it is a mirror to Aziraphale's response to Crowley saving the books in 1941. What can Gabriel maybe tell us about what Aziraphale was feeling then, through what is similar and what is different about these two moments?

For starters, Gabriel and Beez knew how they felt about one another before The Fly. They already had shared that through "Everyday". The Fly is not an "oh" moment for Gabriel, in the sense that it wasn't a sudden revelation of either Beez's love or of his own. If anything, he and Beez never really had an "oh" moment in that sense of one because elements of how they both felt were always just understood and present in their interactions.

This is honestly true of a lot of relationships. A lot of "oh" moments are not so much becoming aware of having feelings for someone but are just being hit with a new aspect of love that both/all parties is/are already aware is in existence, even if it hasn't always yet been fully spoken.

In S1, we see that Gabriel and Beez only let their guard down around one another. They have always been as close to friends as they could be in their positions. They already care about one another when we first see them together and then, in S2, Gabriel is completely unsurprised at Beez's flirting with him moments into the first date-- and Beez had no hesitation in doing so, suggesting that they likely have before.

Their attraction to one another is presented as an existing given between them from the very start of their flashback sequence. There's no "oh" over The Fly or anything else because they just know. They start to give words and actions to it as they fall deeper in love throughout the scenes but there's never any doubt that they both have been long-aware of what exists between them.

If anything, Ineffable Bureaucracy is probably the real, millennia-long pining relationship in Good Omens, as while they had all these very good foundations for a romantic relationship, they didn't really begin to pursue one until between S1 and S2.

Gabriel's response to The Fly parallels Aziraphale's response to Crowley saving the books in 1941, even if the contrasting part of the parallel is that both are responses to gestures made by these demons for their angels in very different stages of these relationships.

For Gabriel, The Fly is an "oh" moment-- but not one that is about a new revelation related to love existing. It's about what is, for him, a heartbreakingly new experience:

It's not that Gabriel doesn't already know how he and Beez both feel about one another because already he does by this point. Gabriel isn't having a realization of the existence of his love or of Beez's love when Beez gives him The Fly; he's having a realization that this is what it feels like to be loved.

And what is feeling loved, to an angel?

It's being and feeling truly seen.

It's someone noticing them and coming along to care for them while they're out there, trying to save the world when they're sometimes not sure they can even save themselves. It's someone seeing that in them and not seeing anything worth berating them about the way that they berate themselves but, instead, seeing a person worthy of their love and protection.

Loving an angel is giving them the same kindness and care that they give to the world but that they often deny themselves.

For Gabriel, that night in The Resurrectionist was the first time that anyone had ever done something like that for him. It wasn't an "oh" of I'm in love because he already knew that and that Beez felt the same way. It was an "oh", though, of falling deeper in love. It was an "oh" of feeling love.

Beez had already done kind things for him before they gave him The Fly but The Fly and its matchbox are the first ever physical things Gabriel has been given by someone. He has never had any possessions besides his clothes before. He's never been given a gift.

He and Beez go to bars and pubs on their dates; they're surrounded by humans with songs and birthdays and Christmases and going on dates and living a life that involves tangible, physical things that Gabriel is supposed to be above but to which he is drawn.

On the first two dates we see, he and Beez meet up in places but they do not order anything. They do consume the music together and, by the night at The Resurrectionist, they take another step towards engaging more in the human world that they've largely been absorbing and observing together to date. They do so through allowing themselves to be a part of the space, too-- Gabriel miracling the song on the jukebox for Beez-- but also through material objects.

They start ordering stuff. Gabriel is happy to bring Beez something-- buying them beer and a bag of chips/packet of crisps, even if they're undecided on actually consuming them. He makes it clear that he doesn't have any expectations that Beez actually eat or drink anything if they don't want to but the idea is that they have moved to a place where they can see what the humans see in bringing one another things as they move through the world together.

Gabriel has gone from a being who barely knows why he's meeting Beez in this bar to being excited to see them again and happy to buy them a drink and their preferred snack to stare at. Beez is having a ball getting the food-judgy-if-also-food-curious Gabriel to buy them what they've clearly told him he had best call a packet of crisps if he plans on seeing them again. 😂 They have begun to let themselves claim resources for each other and themselves and to start to get less intense about consumption, which are features of recognizing the humanity in one another and themselves.

Gabriel's "oh" moment when he is given The Fly is that this is the first time he knows what it's like to experience the world as a person who has a person who cares about them and has brought them something.

What he means when he says "no one's ever given me anything before" is really "no one's ever thought about me before."

He means no one has ever seen him there-- until Beez did.

The gift of The Fly reminds Gabriel of that and shows him getting used to the new feeling of not being invisible and alone. He falls deeper in love with Beez and sees them more fully in return as well as a result of their gift and that, it could be argued, is what love is.

Love, if it's good, is a lot of "oh" moments-- because you don't fall in love once. You fall over and over again, deeper each time.

The difference between this moment with Gabriel and Beez versus the paralleling one between Crowley and Aziraphale is that, by 1941, our angel, Aziraphale, has known years upon years upon years of being seen by his demon.

(Amusingly, considering the theme of love as recognition, The Serpent is also literally, ya know, um, rather watchful at times. 😂)

Aziraphale is no stranger to Crowley being kind to him or rescuing him from the times he might have blundered, like we all do at times, in trying to do good.

Crowley saving the books in 1941 is absolutely not the first time that he's ever done something as Beez-and-The-Fly-level romantic as this for Aziraphale. In many ways, that's likely the point.

While The Fly was the first time of what will be many that Gabriel experienced what it was to feel loved by feeling seen, Crowley saving Aziraphale's books is a gesture that could not have happened at all without Crowley's long-held, intimate knowledge of Aziraphale as a person.

What makes Crowley saving Aziraphale's books so romantic isn't even just that he knows how important the books are to Aziraphale but that he knows Aziraphale so well that he could predict that the books would need rescuing.

Crowley knew that his angel would only focus on getting the two of them out of the church alive and unharmed and absolutely was going to forget about those beloved books of his while trying to protect them both and then be completely and utterly crushed when he did.

In this way, it's a contrasting parallel to Gabriel and Beez because, while that was the first time Gabriel had ever felt seen, 1941 is time number six trillion and five that Crowley had made Aziraphale feel seen like this and he's now so well-practiced at it that it's old hat at this point.

There is no judgement from Crowley about what happened with the Nazis in any of this. Aziraphale is horrible to himself over things like mistakes like he made in this church and being forgetful about these books but Crowley sees no such need for any of that. He protects Aziraphale from the fallout but in such a way that says he admires Aziraphale for trying to take the actions that he did. He sees Aziraphale as brave and his actions quietly affirm, much in the way that Beez does for Gabriel, that just because they are an angel who is used to doing for others doesn't mean they're not also a person who needs someone to do for them, too, and that Crowley is happy to be that person.

Aziraphale is reminded by Crowley knowing him well enough to anticipate that the books will need to be saved and taking care of that for him that they are a team. That Aziraphale doesn't have to worry about managing everything on his own because he and Crowley help each other manage life. They know each other well and have been together so long that they just know how to take care of one another.

It's not an "oh" of a realization of I'm in love for the first time. It is, as Michael Sheen says, a moment of falling in love. It's an "oh" of having been in love for a very long time and that love still finding new ways to surprise in its ability to keep causing Aziraphale to happily fall deeper and deeper...

This isn't realizing love and it's not the first time that Crowley has done something sweet and romantic like this for him-- it's the power of it being the nine billionth time Crowley has. It's the feeling of "oh" for Aziraphale that is a reminder that he is safe in the knowledge that Crowley knows him, through and through, and when confronted with the most real Aziraphale there is... the one that can be prone to making mistakes out of insecurities and self-doubt... the one that struggles sometimes with self-worth and brutal perfectionism... Crowley knows, sees him there, and is still madly in love with him.

Crowley never sees Aziraphale as weak or lesser for feeling any of it. He loves those sides of Aziraphale because he loves all of Aziraphale. He won't let Aziraphale be embarrassed because he likes and admires him as he is. He's gentle and kind and understanding about Aziraphale's insecurities, treating Aziraphale with the same care that Aziraphale shows him.

Crowley, better than anyone else ever has or will, sees Aziraphale for who Aziraphale truly is.

He loves that angel and his love helps Aziraphale to quiet some of his self-doubts and be a little kinder to himself-- much in the same way that Aziraphale's love does for Crowley. Crowley loving him makes Aziraphale feel like maybe there's a chance that he might be worth loving.

Loving an angel is making them feel seen and Aziraphale, holding those books Crowley rescued for him?

He felt very loved indeed.

The "oh" moment of 1941 is one moment where we see that Aziraphale has just been reminded of just how much Crowley truly sees him there-- and of just how much Crowley loves him. What we are watching, imho, is not the first realization of love but just one of a million different moments throughout history of Aziraphale continuing to fall deeper and deeper in love with Crowley.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens meta #ineffable bureaucracy #the archangel fucking gabriel #lord beezlebub #good omens 1941 #azirafeast2024 #feast of aziraphale #azirafeast

74 notes · View notes

strniohoeee · 1 month ago

Note

Hi love!! I need some heartbreaking angst pleaseee! Not exactly sure what for the plot but something super sad please 😭😭

Wonderwall

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N can’t fathom opening up to someone like Chris. A man who’s so head over heels for her. Once he gets her to let those walls down in her heart he knows she’ll be the one for him. But sometimes life gets in the way and things happen…♠️

Warnings⚠️: Mentions of drug abuse (slightly), talks of death, talks of injuries, mentions of smoking and drinking. This is also told in Chris’ POV.

Songs for imagine: Wonderwall- Oasis, All I Need To Hear- The 1975

Because maybe

You’re gonna be

The one that saves me

And after all

You’re my Wonderwall

Many nights I chased after you in the darkness of the night. Flying down empty streets and coming back home to empty sheets. Chasing a high I hadn’t been able to feel again in a long time.

I picked up terrible habits, drinking and smoking here and there. Sitting in the dark for days on end without moving. My eyes bore into the white wall ahead of me. I think I believed I was going crazy because I swear I could still hear and see you…even smell you.

Life felt beautiful with you, I truly felt happiness and fulfillment. Which if you told me at 18 I’d find my soulmate, I’m sure I would’ve laughed in your face. I never saw myself as the boyfriend or husband type, but when it came to you I simply couldn’t see myself as anything but.

When I tried to be with other girls, I always pushed them away because I knew that I didn’t want to be with them the way that they wanted me to be with them. But with you, it was almost the opposite. I knew almost immediately you were everything I wanted and more, and the fact that the tables had turned, and you were the one who kept pushing me away teared my heart a bit.

“I’m Chris” I stated as I reach my hand out to the girl putting the leash back on her dog

“I am so sorry, he never gets loose from his collar” She stated frantically standing up and dusting her hands off

“No worries, he's cute, what’s his name?” I asked her

Shaking my hand and smiling “his names Bones and I’m Y/N” she replied smiling a pearly white smile at me

Smiling back I began to pet the dog who couldn’t seem to stop jumping on me.

“Hi buddy” I stated giggling as he practically weighed me down

“We’re new to the neighborhood, so I guess he’s excited to meet new people” she stated fighting against the pull of Bones

“I’m happy to meet you too bones, where’d you guys move from?” I asked her

“Not too far we came from Salem” she replied

“Oh sick I love Salem” I responded back

“It’s so touristy now and crowded, kinda takes the fun out of it” she said giggling

“But you’re in Boston now” I said furrowing my brows

“Well yeah but in a quiet suburban neighborhood, Salem was just loud and busy always” she said patting Bones to sit down

“That’s true” I said nodding

“Well I have to go now, I’ll see you around” she said beginning to walk

“Yeah sure! If you need a tour guide I’m your guy” I said as she began to walk away

“If we ever cross paths again I’ll be sure to run it by you” she said laughing a bit

After that interaction I couldn’t seem to stop smiling. I mean the way the golden sun hit her face and the way her nose was red from the cold October air. I don’t know what I was feeling, but I do know that was the most I’ve ever spoken to a girl in the middle of the street at that.

And after that day we consistently ran into each other on the streets. It was only on our fifth interaction that we finally planned a day to hang out.

So when that day came around I was so eager to show her around my city. We went everywhere I could think of. Parks, museums, stores, bridges. I mean everywhere

“Have you always lived here?” She asked me as we were seated at a restaurant

“No actually for a while my brothers and I lived in LA. We actually just moved back a couple of months ago” I said

“Oh nice, what made you come back?” She said

“We love LA, but we’ve lived there for so many years and we missed Boston so we just figured to move back” I replied

“Aww I love that” she said smiling

“How about you? Born and raised in Massachusetts?” I asked her

“Yeah actually lived in Salem my whole life up until a few weeks ago” she stated as we began to enjoy our dinner

“Did you move here with family or solo, not to sound creepy” I said chuckling nervously

“Noo you’re good, I live with my grandparents and brother” she said nodding

“Oh nice, you have a brother” I said smiling

“Yeah, he’s the best older brother ever. He’s taught me so much” she stated

“I have another older brother, his name is Justin. And my other two brothers well were triplets” I said laughing

“Shut up that’s so freaking cool” she said shocked and giggling

“You’ll have to meet them soon, they’re the best and they’d love you” I said back

“Yeah that would be nice” she said

But the more we talked about family that night the more I noticed the way you got uncomfortable and danced around many sub topics.

I avoided anything that would make you uncomfortable, but I knew there was something there. And slowly I could see those walls being put up between us.

So we continued to hang out more and more, and I introduced her to my friends and family, and we all got along.

A few months into our friendship, I kind of decided I wanted something more and I was wondering if she had felt the same.

I tried to insinuate that I was interested in being more than friends, but then those same walls kept coming back up, and I could see the avoidance in your eyes.

“ Would you ever consider being more than friends?” I had bluntly asked

“ What do you mean by that?” She asked looking up at me

“ I mean, do you like me the same way I like you as more than just friends” I asked her

“ I don’t know”she said avoiding my gaze

“ how do you not know I feel like it’s a yes or no question” I said laughing

“ I mean, I don’t know that we’d work out as more than just friends” she replied fidgeting with her fingers

“ well why not I mean, we could give it a try” I said

“ because we just wouldn’t work” she said bluntly

“ But why not, why wouldn’t we work?” I asked her desperately

“ because you’d leave me if you knew more about me” she said saddened

“ I doubt that we’ve been friends for months now and I see a future with you” I said searching for her gaze

“ don’t say things you don’t mean” she snapped back

“ What's the issue? Why won’t you open up to me? Why are you avoiding me?” I asked her

“Because you wouldn’t want to date someone like me” she replied snapping her head up

“Yes I would, I’m sure of it” I responded growing tired of this argument

“Youd date me? A girl whose parents are drug addicts and chose getting high over their own kids? A girl who watched her parents drop her and her brother off at the age of 7 and 4 to their grandparents house. A girl who hasn’t seen her parents in 18 years. You wouldn’t date a girl who watched her older brother almost die. A girl who now takes care of her brother everyday since the age of 15…. I’m fucked up in the head and amazing people like you shouldn’t be tainted by the impurities of my life” she stated with pain and hurt laced in her voice

“I’m…I’m so sorry Y/N” I replied looking into her eyes

“I tried so hard to keep you away from me because my struggles and my life were meant for my eyes only and I couldn’t imagine dragging you into my fucked up world” she said as a few tears fell from her eyes

“ Listen I’m sorry that you’ve had such a fucked up life and that you watched your brother almost die, and now you take care of him because of his injuries, but that doesn’t make you less of the woman you are and I’m still in love with you and I still want to be with you. I will stand by you in everything. I will help you take care of your brother, that doesn’t matter to me.” I replied

“You’d what?” She asked sobbing

“I don’t care, okay! I will take care of you and your whole damn family, that's how much I want to be with you.” I stated pulling her in tightly

And after that night, I kept my promise. I took care of her and I took care of her brother and I took care of her grandparents and I loved it and I loved her and you would do anything for love.

And after her grandparents died two years into our relationship, the same walls came back up again. And she tried to push me away, but I wouldn’t let her. I continued to help her with her brother.

And when her brother got his girlfriend who was studying to be a nurse, she became even more of a help. And so she was able to open back up to me and let her walls down and let me love her and let me help her.

Even when Y/N and her brother's girlfriend were at work. I was right at his door every morning at 9am. Helping him start his day. Helping him bathe, helping him shave, getting him dressed and getting him fed.

“Are you going to marry my sister?” He had asked me on day

“Donnie, I’d love nothing more than to marry her” I stated

“Please do, you're everything right in her life. She needs you more than anything” he stated as I slid her sneaker on for him

“ as long as I have your blessing to marry her” I stated

“Of course you do, you’re the best person in both of our lives. I’m truly appreciative of all that you do for her and I.” He said nodding his head at me

“ I made a promise to your sister. I told her that no matter what I will always be there to help her and her family.” I said nodding at him

“Thank you man” he replied smiling at me

But who would’ve known our lives would change so rapidly? Donnie and his girlfriend had gotten married. And a while after Y/N and I turned 25 I was preparing to pop the question.

But you see when life starts to go so well something always happens. I believe sometimes you pay with your life when you finally find joy and happiness.

Bad things always happen to good people and it sucks.

I never would have imagined that at 25 my girlfriend of 3 1/2 years would be dead. Tragically taken from us. I actually don’t remember much of that night nor the months after it was all a dark gray haze, full of anger and sadness.

Most days if I wasn’t staring at my four walls or helping Donnie when his wife was at work I’d find myself in a drunken haze sitting in front of her tombstone. Waking up cold and hung over and extremely depressed.

Everyday I traveled with the wedding ring in the pocket of my pants. Right before she got into an accident with a drunk driver that instantly killed her I had purchased the ring. I had gotten Donnie's approval and my parents approval.

The box with the sparkling Diamond sat in my top dresser for a week before I felt like I had enough courage to ask her to be my wife. And many nights I stood up thinking what if I popped the question a week sooner would that have changed the trajectory of her life? Would she not have gotten in that car a week later would that person not have been drunk a week later? Or would she still have died but at least with the idea of me wanting her to be my wife?

I used to think I believed in fate, but I don’t think her death was fate. It’s truly saddening for a woman who said that her life was stained with the family curse from her birth to have died in such a sick way. So no, I don’t call that fate, I call that evil. I call it a curse.

She deserved nothing but health and happiness and a family to properly raise unlike what was done to her and her brother. But it was taken from her by a selfish piece of shit, no matter how much anger I felt when that court date rolled around, I froze on that stand when I gave my statement to the perpetrator. I was so numb and empty like a literal piece of my heart was taken for me. I couldn’t say anything to him. I couldn’t even look at him, but I knew I wanted him dead. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to feel like nothing inside like I did. I wanted to take all my pain times 100 and inject into him because he was not worthy of the death penalty, he was not worthy of the easy way out. He deserved to sit in an empty white room and stare at four walls and be haunted by what he did.

I honestly stopped seeing my family for a while, and my brother came and checked on me, but there was nothing I could say or do. I quite literally went crazy.

But after a year, I was able to stop drinking and smoking. I was able to pay a visit to her murderer in jail. I was able to forgive him for what he had done. I was able to continue to take care of her brother, like I promised her years ago. I was once again able to visit my family and my friends and actually enjoy myself. But most importantly I was able to go to her gravesite clear minded not under the influence of anything and I was able to talk to her. It was painful and I cried, but I needed her to know that I was here and that I wasn’t gone and I wasn’t going anywhere. I needed her to know that she is my wife. And that I will love her in every lifetime and that I’d carry that ring around till the day I die and that she is the love of my life.

A year and a half after her death

I was spending the day with Donnie as I usually did on my days off. We were eating lunch and celebrating Y/N’s birthday. She would’ve been 27.

“I miss her” Donnie said letting a tear fall as he blew out her candles

“Yeah I miss her too” I replied chocking back a few years

And that night we sat in front of the large window in their living room. Eating Y/N’s favorite cake

and bringing up memories of her. Laughing at all the embarrassing stories we were able to share.

And every year on her birthday we did the same thing!

And here I was 10 years later at 35, placing more roses at her gravesite. I tried dating here and there, but it felt wrong. She was the only woman for me and I couldn’t see myself with anyone else.

Donnie had passed away five years after Y/N from heartbreak leaving behind a widow and two kids. And even then, I still stood around like I promised over 10 years ago.

“Who’s this next to daddy?” Donnie’s son had asked his mom

“That’s daddy’s sister, Y/N” she replied adding some flowers too

“That was Chris’ wife” she then said to both of her kids

“You were married to daddy's sister?” They both asked me

“I was indeed” I replied squeezing the wedding ring in my hand

“She passed away 10 years ago, a few years before her brother” I said to them giving them a sympathetic look

“ well at least they’ll be in heaven together and we know they’re looking down at us” his daughter stated

“That’s very true” Donnie’s wife said

And that same tradition stood two Sundays a month. We all went down to the cemetery and put flowers for Donnie and Y/N. And I don’t think we’ll ever stop that tradition until the day I die.

To my Wonderwall, I miss you and I love you

-Chris

The End

Whewww chileeee this was ASSSS. Idk I thought I had a good idea in my mind, but I just feel like I couldn’t execute it properly and this took me days to write and I don’t even know why because it’s garbage. Love yall though and thanks for all the love and support.🥺🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo angst #Sturniolo triplet angst

55 notes · View notes

etheriadearie · 5 months ago

Text

Endgame: a meta emotional exploration of how SPOP's perfect ending relies on no miracles

So, we pick up our story where we left off; Shadow Weaver is dead, having given Catra her chance to save Adora... and to save their love. One final monumental task lies ahead of them, which will determine the fate of the universe...

Adora's final burden weighs heavy, too heavy, and she is sick. Sick in her body from Horde Prime's virus, but also sick in her soul. Years of believing that she must carry the world's burdens that seem to get ever heavier and injurious have left her weary and predicting her own failure. This final task seems all but assured to destroy Adora, as the cruelty which is the universe keeps on telling her that she alone is the hero, and must do what must be done, never mind the consequences to her own life. And Horde Prime has her, his final cruelty is invading her body and weakening her at a time when she needs to be strong... stronger than she has ever been before.

But Catra is here, her beautiful friend who she loves and yearns for. Things are bad, but at least they're together... she looks over at Catra as she carries Adora towards the Heart, seeing a look of total focus and determination. This look is intense, it is Catra's everlasting determination to care for and support her friend, no matter how sick she may be, or how dangerous her final task.

It's a look that Adora has seen before; someone so intensely caring for her above all other things. It happened to her before when Angella bravely flew up to remove the sword from the portal, to protect her. And this isn't the first time Catra has shown this look of care for Adora. But this look is well known to Catra... as we've seen this look before: from the people who cared for Catra during her darkest hours...

This world was cruel to Catra, more so than anyone else in this story. She was always singled out for hurt, her torture both physical and mental, nothing ever seemed to go her way, nobody ever seemed to see her pain. Darkness has chased Catra her entire life, wanting to swallow her up, vanish her into its silent oblivion. And yet, in that darkness, the light still shone down on her. As alone as she ever felt, as misunderstood as she thought she'd always be, those few who cared for her saw her pain, and took care of her. Maybe they couldn't understand why she hurt so bad, lashing out at them in response to their caring for her... and why she always hid the pain, unwilling to acknowledge it, never discussing where the hurt was. But they saw nonetheless, and so they cared for her.

I am, of course, speaking of her two dearest friends... Scorpia and Adora.

TW: discussions of call of the void, and implied discussion of the "s" word and "s" missions etc.

Both of them have shown this exact emotion of care for Catra: Scorpia, at the end of White Out, picks Catra up to carry her to safety, having just watched her friend nearly give up her life because she was so desperate to not lose Adora again. Scorpia decided then that she wouldn't let the darkness swallow Catra up, even though her friend seemed to care not if she had died that day.

And then, again, inside the portal dimension, a reality created by Catra when she pulled the switch, desperate to the point of mentally broken from all of the abuse and heartbreak she had suffered, as the world collapsed around them Adora refused to leave Catra behind. In a moment of ironic payback, Adora picks up a stun rod and shocks a disbelieving Catra: we see Adora first carry her unconscious form with worry and care, and then with unrelenting determination she pilots the skiff, outrunning the burning darkness of the collapsing reality which Catra was so determined to stay in, to die peacefully in its embrace.

And so now the time has come for Catra to pay it all back, to give her best and truest heart in protecting and supporting Adora, the love of her life, and her salvation. Catra knows Adora is hurting, and that the darkness of the void is near. Catra knows what Adora is feeling because Catra has gotten to know that darkness intimately... it has been with her all of her life, especially close these last few years when she thought she had lost Adora forever. She knows the signs well... and she sees it in Adora.

This darkness that chases Adora is a monstrous thing, and it has Adora firmly wrapped in its grip. The abuses of their traitorous stepmother still weigh heavily on Adora, she's never been able to get free of the hurt that Shadow Weaver poisoned her with, it is ever with her, consuming her self belief and destroying her hopes. And Horde Prime's virus infects her, along with his taunting words of her unworthiness as a hero who's destined to fail. But Catra is here, she sees Adora's pain and she's prepared to give her heart and her soul to help Adora overcome it.

Catra doesn't yet know how she can help her friend, her dearest love, with this. She just knows that it's the right thing to do, and somehow, someway, it's her that can help Adora overcome. Catra may have had to fight hard to help Adora be free from Shadow Weaver’s intentions to sacrifice her, but her work is not yet done: Shadow Weaver, in her final moment, told Catra that she is the key to Adora being strong enough to survive the Heart.

It was a gift won out of her determination to face ‘destiny' down and not let it take Adora from her, to call out the darkness that was Shadow Weaver’s manipulations of the two of them, done to give their selfish and abusive parent more power at the cost of the girls' lives. So now, as Catra carries Adora to the heart, she is decided: she will stay with her, and find a way to save her, or die trying. Just like how Adora and Scorpia were unwilling to let Catra be swallowed up by the darkness when she was living without hope, Catra will do the same for Adora, no matter what it takes, no matter how heavy the burden placed on Adora may be. Catra will find the strength to lift that burden and save her, because Adora cannot do this alone... the pain and fear Adora feels is too great for her to overcome alone.

Adora smiles fondly at Catra, who breaks her furious determination to smile back. Adora is so happy that Catra came for her, that she got to see her again. Catra cocks a conspiratorial smile, she's happy, too.

They are momentarily overcome with surprise, seeing that they've reached the Heart. Here they stand, together, at the end of the world... they share a smile, as this is how it should be. Adora stands free of Catra, looking to her in thanks, and trying to will herself into confidence. It takes a moment for Catra to drop her worried look, she knows Adora is still in danger. But she smiles back, wanting to encourage Adora by letting her know that she believes in her. Adora focuses, shows her determination. All that separates her from success and redemption is one final transformation as She-ra... and she is determined to succeed. It is her duty, and fate, she has continued to believe, has brought her here. It was always going to come down to her and this moment, to stop Prime and end the war. She tries to summon the sword...

... Disaster. She can't overcome the virus, as she focuses her magical power, it just opens her up to attack and the virus spreads further into her body. Adora realizes she can't do it, all of her fears are true. She's just a lonely girl, inconsequential and caught up in a heroic destiny she was never worthy of. Adora has always believed her burdens would be the end of her, many times she felt she stood at death's doorstep, and this time is no different... cruelty became a fact of life for her. She screams out in pain as the sickness invades her further, and Catra grabs ahold of her, trying to understand what is wrong, so she can help her.

Adora looks at Catra, she knows she can't hide this from her. She tells her she can't transform, tears forming in her eyes. Things are bad, like she feared they would be. Adora sinks into the belief that she is no hero, it's been a lie all along. She's a fake, getting the sword must have been a mistake after all, a perversion of the First Ones bringing her to Etheria to be their weapon. And she can't even become She-ra... Horde Prime has taken that from her.

As virus spreads into the heart chamber, Catra looks up at it in realization... time is short. Prime is moments from taking everything away from them... she looks on as Adora tells her the full truth: she can't become She-ra because of Prime's virus. Dismayed, Catra tries to understand. She asks if the failsafe won't work without She-ra. Adora looks grim, not meeting Catra's eyes...

Catra sees Adora go inward, shutting her eyes, accepting her dark fate. Catra sees this and understands: Adora is accepting her death, and the void that now calls to her. Her face shows weariness and resignation, Catra knows these feelings well and she's fearful for Adora.

Adora centers her belief long enough to summon the failsafe. She can still do one last good thing for everyone, and fulfill her duty as she dies. She's so tired... it's been a long and exhausting journey ever since that moment when she decided to seek out the sword, leaving her dearest Catra behind in doing so... she didn't realize it would all end like this, with such... finality. A history, and a fate, from which she could not escape. Mara's kind words speak to her, to believe in love, and to not give up, as well as Catra's, asking her to dream of their future... but they are not enough. Her burden is too great, the hour is too late, and Horde Prime is too cruel for her to surpass... so she will do what is needed so that everyone else can keep going without her. She can't let the universe be end like this, it would be amoral for her not to sacrifice herself, after all... She looks to Catra and tells her: "No. It'll work." She doesn't need to live through it for the failsafe to deploy... then everyone is safe and she can finally... rest. She puts on a determined face for Catra... this is how it's got to be, she won't fail now. She tells Catra to leave her to her final task, her solitary burden she unwittingly accepted when she took the sword. Catra shouldn't have to pay this burden as well, and she hopes against hope that Catra will find a way to live on without her.

Catra looks on as Adora does this. She is crestfallen, and knows Adora is telling her that she will die. Catra can't just let Adora accept this... it's not fair for her to just stop living without ever having begun in the first place. She challenges Adora instead... "Adora... what is going to happen to you?" She needs Adora to say it, so she will see it too. So she can see just how unfair this is...

Catra faced down death, refusing to die so many times, just to get to this point. And Adora needs to understand how important it is to fight against those who would kill you as she did. It was never a choice for Catra, death was always near, starting that day they strayed into Shadow Weaver's chambers, and if she hadn't had the will to fight, to desire her life and her own worth, death would have swallowed her up long ago. In those times when she hurt so bad, and death felt so near, all that Catra could do was to scream back with fury and defiance at that void, her anger willing herself to find a way to keep on living just a little bit longer. Even when she knew she had lost all hope, she refused to quit and let that void win, as that felt too wrong to bear... and so she persisted, no matter how she could. At times, even she has faltered... nearly giving in, but it kills her most of all to see Adora so close to give up, now.

So, how? How can she convince Adora to fight with all of her worth, to refuse to give in, when Adora is so decided in her mind that she is destined to die?

Adora walks away, afraid of what Catra is telling her, because she doesn't see a way to make Catra's belief real. She's so... weary... and so alone. She's glad Catra came back so she could see her again... but this is her end. She's She-ra, and this is the way it's got to be. She turns back to her, telling her she's sorry, her eyes brimming with tears, she's so full of remorse and hurt that she can't be with Catra, she knows she's failing her... again, like she did so many times before. Catra is so beautiful to her, she always has been, and she really is all she's ever wanted... but it's too late.

She tells her that they are out of time, and now she must do what has to be done, she will save everyone in this one, final, selfless act, her payment in trade for being the supposed hero that she is. She walks forward and cradles Catra's head in her hands, pulling her forehead gently to hers... one final act of affection... but not a kiss. A kiss would be too cruel, as she knows she must leave Catra now... so she pulls her hands away from Catra, and she tells her that she is ready to die, she is very brave...

… As Adora tells her she must die, Catra has gone... elsewhere. Her eyes are not seeing, no, her mind is inward, racing, searching for a way to keep Adora from dying. She cannot believe this can be Adora's end. How can this be it? Shadow Weaver told her in her final act that there is a way, and the one thing Shadow Weaver was good for was her knowledge... she's just got to find it to help Adora, find the way to strengthen Adora's belief, to undo all of the hurt and manipulations that Shadow Weaver, the First Ones, and Horde Prime put into Adora, making her believe she must die... but she just, can't see it…

She's still in this daze of concentration when she feels Adora's hands gently touch her cheeks, caressing them affectionately, pulling her head to hers. Adora looks... so exhausted, and saddened. Catra's eyes flare in surprise at Adora's touch, she didn't even notice she had walked over to her, this is all happening too fast! And Adora will slip away from her if she fails in this moment, she knows that. As Adora tells her she's ready to die, then pulls her hands away, she knows this isn't right. She grabs them, clutching them tightly as she looks Adora in the eyes, showing her determination to not give up. It isn't right for Adora to have to die like this! And if Adora can't see that, she's got to find a way to make her. So she tells Adora she won't leave, and declares her decree of love instead, it's all she can do is stay with her, to find more time to rescue the love of her life.

"No... No. I'm not leaving. No matter what happens, I'm staying with you!"

Adora cries out mournfully as Catra refuses her plea to leave her... she knows Catra is choosing to stay with her, because she doesn't want to live without her. And this means she is choosing to die as well... as Adora knows she's not strong enough to do this right, she's only a failed hero. But she knows it's Catra's choice to do this, and she understands that Catra is being brave... Adora turns to face the heart once more, trying to be brave as well.

As Adora turns and faces her burden, Catra stands closely with her. She wants so badly to love Adora, and protect her, so she reaches out and puts her hands on Adora's shoulders as a token of protection, to let Adora know that she has her, and supports her. Adora is the most important thing Catra has ever known, and her love for her is unending.

Image overlay meta HERE

Catra got so scared, back when Adora left her... scared that Adora had become a foolish, self involved girl lost to the naive idea that she had some special importance as a destined hero, who was never going to stop to think deeply about what was really going on around her. She didn't seem to see Catra's love, her romantic desire... instead chasing the imaginary standards Shadow Weaver and other's laid out for her, but those were merely manipations meant to use her, nothing like Catra’s love. But that's all done now, Catra has seen Adora's strength, her generous spirit and her heroic determination to always make things better, she'll never leave her again. Catra watched on as Adora was always an open book, so earnest to please others, and because of that, Catra knows she has been hurt. Catra knew better than Adora, she knew to fight against such hurtful people, but Adora just wanted to be loved... yet she didn't understand what love was, and has always felt scared and lonely because of it. She is delicate, and innocent, even now, after all of her battles and growth as the legendary warrior known as She-ra.

Catra knows all of this about Adora, because she was there all along, loving her. And because of that she's always known Adora best... even back when she fought against her, full of anger that Catra had to feel weak from love... she knew she was lying to herself about Adora. Adora isn't perfect, but she's the best person Catra has ever known, and she deserves so much love... giving her that is all Catra has ever wanted, but even now, Adora, she doesn't see it...

As Catra stands beside her, Adora's mind is lost, feeling the totality of her aloneness, as a supposed hero of fate. Even though Catra is by her side, now, she still can't believe love is really possible, for her anyways. Her whole life has been one long and difficult journey of responsibilities and danger. She has to come through now, or her life will be meaningless. But she feels so... ill... and so... tired... and so totally alone. How can she possibly succeed in this dangerous task, when she feels so weary? And Catra stands at her shoulder, daring the danger to take her down as well. The burden of it is too much... Adora feels her eyelids slipping, and then her body, she feels weak... she cries out as she doubles over in sickness and pain.

Catra looks on in desperation as Adora does this, Adora is dying right before her very eyes. She's feeling lost and alone, and she's giving up... just like Catra feared she might. Adora clutches at her heart, and at the failsafe... her final, cruel mission. The virus is invading it, trying to corrupt the failsafe and stop to Adora's heart as well. Adora slips out of her hands, Catra watches on in horror as Adora collapses to the ground... it was so fast! Catra didn't even have time to catch her fall! Horde Prime's final cruelty has Adora, Catra rolls her over so she can get a better look at what's happening...

The failsafe doesn't look right, and Adora's eyes are closed in agony from it. Catra watches the virus invade Adora further, spreading across her face and body. She reaches out and holds Adora, trying to comfort her, full of concern and sadness. This is agony, and its killing her. And Catra still can't see how she can help Adora, so she holds her as lovingly as she can instead, crying out against the unfairness of it. No! This can't be it! She needs Adora to hold on, but her eyes are sealed shut from all of the pain she's in…

A strange, eerie noise echoes into the chamber, and Catra looks up with dread at the heart... Horde Prime's corruption advances further and the strange green energy jumps down from the ceiling and hits the heart directly... Catra knows this is a sign that worse is about to come…

Adora looks, too, finding enough strength through her pain to crack her eyelids so that she can see. Things are bad, and their time is up…

::Horde Prime cackles cruelly as his plan is nearly completed... he is hacking the Heart directly now, and is mere moments from being able to direct that energy, either at his enemies, or at the universe itself. He's a sick man, and it immediately becomes bitterly obvious: Horde Prime wants to end... it. All of it. Everyone's story coming to an end, the finality as his "perfect dominion." The universe will end with Horde Prime...

But little does he know, Hordak has found his inner will through his love for Entrapta, allowing him to resist Horde Prime's memory wipes and mind control. As Hordak looks down at Entrapta along his charged weapon, he can't hurt her. She is too precious to him, so instead, as he searches his feelings, he finds... defiance.

He attacks his so called god, breaking Horde Prime's connection to the heart temporarily... love, it seems, has stalled things just a bit longer for our girls...

Adora comes to in Catra's arms. Did she black out? She's not sure... Horde Prime's virus is inside the Heart now, and everything is pain. She feels so... weak, and tired... as if breathing alone is asking too much of her body, that most basic requirement of life. Catra is telling her to stay awake, she looks up and sees Catra's concerned face, but then she sees the heart... Catra looks, too. It has become corrupted, like Adora's own failing body, she's failed, its all too much, and she is far too weak...

She waits for Catra to meet her gaze, her eyes full of sorrow... all she can do now is to tell Catra she's sorry, that she couldn't save her life, couldn't even do that, let alone love her like she wants...

Catra puts her hand to her cheek, it feels warm, good. Adora summons enough strength to lift her hand to hold Catra's hand to her cheek, to savior this last intimate touch... but it doesn't last, she's too... weak... she accepts her failure, her inadequacy. She couldn't even die right, to save everyone and the universe, in the end. And Catra... she manages one last weak gaze back at Catra, as she feels her heart slowing... it will stop... just... in a moment... she sees Catra cry out her name, tears streaming from her eyes, longingly for her, telling her to not die... to not leave her... but Adora feels herself slipping away... Catra clutches her body to hers, but all that is left for Adora to do now, is to die in the embrace of the only person she's ever truly loved... with one last look at the corrupted heart, she accepts that it wasn't enough, she's too tired... she can't fight it any longer... her eyes slowly slip closed...

As Adora is weakening to the point of passing out, Catra is struggling against the idea that Adora could end so... quietly. She knows there has to be more to this moment, some way for Adora to win, she's supposed to be the hero... it shouldn't end like this. There's been so much cruelty, all of their lives, so many people hurting them, wanting them to fail. But, she's got Adora now, she's holding her dying body in her very arms. She had to fight down Shadow Weaver to have this moment, but not without cost. Too much time passed, and Adora's sickness is too far advanced. Prime has her, and Catra can feel the last sparks of life leaving Adora's body. Adora looks at her, she tells her she's sorry. Catra reaches out to hold her cheek lovingly, she doesn't know what else to do, so she comforts her. Adora's eye close, needing her loving touch... then they open, Catra watches as Adora remembers her burden. Adora is being consumed by the thoughts of her failure, that she didn't even manage to do the one thing she came here to do, to stop the heart. Catra sees Adora's gaze weakening, but she looks to her one last time...

Catra feels Adora's body becoming quiet, her heart is failing her. Adora can't die now, it's just too cruel! So she begs Adora to fight instead, mournfully calling her name as her eyes are slipping shut. She clutches Adora against her body, hoping the pressure can sustain her, that it will make her love flow into Adora. And that maybe, somehow, that love will heal her, and give her the strength to live. But she knows Adora is about to die, and she still hasn't figured out what the key is, what she’s supposed to do to convince Adora to stay...

As Adora's eyes slip shut, Catra is lost and confused, she's lost on what she's supposed to do to help Adora face this final task, and so Catra does the only thing she can. She holds all of the love she has for Adora in her heart, all the words and gentle touches, the most intimate feelings she should have told to Adora. These feelings are Catra's dreams of their love, her hidden desire she was so afraid to show, the weakness and need she feels when she looks at Adora. She got caught up, waiting for Adora to give her a sign that she felt the same, so she wouldn't have to bear all of those feelings to Adora with no garentee of them being returned. But, they've run out of time, and as she clutches Adora against her body, whispering her name and crying for her, she knows it is probably too late for them, now. Still, she dreams, holding all of her love for Adora inside her heart, this love is as wide as an ocean, stretching to every horizon…

All of her life, Catra has had the most beautiful dreams of them being together. Even when she was so angry and fought against Adora, she still couldn't escape her dreams, her desire for her. She tried not to... it hurt to think of how it seemed that she'd never have her. And now, Adora is finally in her arms, but she's dying. Dying when she should be living, living so that Catra can show her all of her love. As time counts down, and Adora weakens towards unconsciousness in her arms, Catra wishes for time enough to show Adora her most beautiful feelings. It is her torrid desire, to share every last moment with Adora, and to romance her dearest Adora with her splendid love. Catra wishes her desire couple wrap Adora up inside it to protect her, she's searching for a way to reach Adora with her love.

Little does she know, Etheria is about to answer her call… it will help her show Adora the meaning of what it is to be loved...

Adora's eyes startle open. Confused, she feels warm and comfortable, seeing the waterfall in Brightmoon splashing down before her.

She feels safe here, the feeling is jarring considering that she was certain she had just accepted her finality, her death. It's embrace was where she felt like she had to go, to finally be at peace. And yet, instead... she's seeing... her own reflection? She's... home, in Bright Moon? And she looks... different. She's beautiful... delicate, and vulnerable. Every bit of the elegant dress she wears is gorgeous, it suits her, the gold trim complements her skin tone and her hair. Adora has never thought of herself as beautiful in this way, so tender and warm, the idea of it is foreign to her, there's always only been duty and responsibility. She remembers she was trying to uphold these as her eyes were slipping shut, towards everlasting slumber.

Yet here she is, somehow…

The door creaks behind her, and she turns to see her dearest love, Catra, come into the room, being chased by a determined Glimmer. Catra flows towards her, every bit of her movement is graceful and elegant. Catra is wearing beautiful, golden shoes, they match the trim on her own dress... which is strange, she knows Catra was always cautious, keeping the claws on her feet ready so she could spring from danger. Catra is laughing, it's so beautiful when she laughs. Her hair is different too, it's longer, like hers is, and yet, also different than when she was with the Horde. A white and gold jacket flows from her shoulder clasps, her outfit goes with Adora's beautiful dress exquisitely. She's so happy, as though she's without a care, as if the only thing that exists is this beautiful, soft moment, all of the cruelty and harshness of the world has washed away, and reality is blissful... like a dream.

Adora looks on in confusion as Catra runs at her with Glimmer in hot pursuit. Glimmer wants to brush Catra's beautiful, bushy hair, but Catra's not having it. Catra darts around Adora playfully, using her body as a shield against Glimmer, softly caressing Adora's skin as she does. Frustrated by Catra's antics, Glimmer abandons the chase, accusing Catra of being dramatic. Yeah, she's right, that's so Catra. Adora can feel Catra resting her hands on her shoulders with gentle possessiveness... but it also makes her feel protected, a moment that feels somehow… familiar. Catra's touch is so real... yet how can that be? She was dying, she was sure of it. But instead, Catra is here, and so is Glimmer. Bow walks in, saying they're late for Scorpia's first ball. Ah, so that's what this is! They're going to a ball, and this must be, the future? Or perhaps the present? Perhaps she simply forgot-?

After Glimmer tells Catra she's off the hook, she joins Bow, and they hold each other like lovers. Catra still stands at her shoulder, her hands gently resting on her skin, they could be lovers, too. It feels so real, she’s certain she can even feel Catra's warm breath on her neck, her cool nails against her skin as she possessively clings to her. Catra seems so... Catra... it all feels so... real. Even Catra's little rebellion, that's so like her, she's always loved Catra's little quirks. Adora watches as Bow and Glimmer turn to leave, and then Catra walks forward. She turns on heel to face Adora, graceful, like a dancer, and offers her hand to Adora, asking if she's ready to go. It's so beautiful... Catra is a great dancer, she remembers that, from way back when at Princess Prom. She was trying so hard not to let Catra distract her, but she was too beautiful... ugh she's such an idiot around Catra.

As Catra tries to face her, there's so much warmth here, and so much peace. Here Catra stands before her, holding out her hand to her, love radiating from her face. It makes her feel so safe, surrounded by her home, with Catra finally here with her, looking at her like this, loving her like this. Catra is so beautiful in her outfit, it's so stylish yet matching to her own dress, leave it to Catra to have immaculate taste. Adora looks down at Catra's hand, her eyes trailing over to where Catra is wearing her pin... does that mean that they are together? Like, really together? The idea of it is so wonderful, and she wants it so very much, they're going to dance again, and not as enemies this time! Adora gives in, this love she feels coming from Catra is too real, too pure to not be true. She feels joyous, and ready to experience the beauty of it all... this must be real, and she was just feeling... confused. She wasn't dying, that's absurd, that was nothing but a bad dream, a strange nightmare that she had to wake up from eventually. She loves Catra so much, she finds herself reaching out lovingly, ready to take her hand, to enjoy a night of dancing and romance with her dearest love, not a care weighing down her ever weary soul...

Tragically... cruelly, her hand passes right through Catra's, as though it were just a figment. With dismay, she notices the glitching in the simulation... she understands now, and sorrow floods across her face... it wasn't real... of course not. She was so sure it was real... Catra's love felt so real... but it was not. It's all cruelty now, as instead Horde Prime stands before her, the dream ripped away from her, while he mocks her. His cruelty cannot be escaped, it was foolish of her to allow herself to dream in the first place, she's just an unworthy hero, failing in her last, unselfish act, of wanting to accept all of the burdens onto herself so that everyone else could be protected from the cruelty of this ancient war... Prime has her now...

He crushes the last of the dream, corrupts the vision as it crumbles into sickening green. She's helpless, completely alone against cruelty as he shackles her, she cries out in pain as the virus returns to invade her mind, hurting her again... everything is going green... the color of Horde Prime's corruption... the color of his unfeeling clones, and now, of the corrupted Heart. She feels as if she's adrift in space, the dream reality that was the simulation is all but gone now, only fragments of code remain, fading into green... as the world closes into green around her, Adora wishes it had been real... don't leave me, Catra, I need you... I always needed you... please...

Adora feels as though she's gently falling... down... down... away... towards her end, towards final oblivion, for her... and the universe... she has failed…

::NOTE: We're now switching to Catra’s point of view during the dream, it may seem repetitive however this is to explain her role in that dream. She's there alongside Adora (to a point). META HERE.

Catra is still clutching Adora’s dying body to her own when she feels the dream begin. She finds her vision being drawn away, from reality, to where Adora is in her dream, as Etheria draws from her ocean of love to create a perfect vision of her love for Adora. Enthralled, Catra watches the beautiful Adora before her, in her white dress with gold trim…

It feels odd at first for Catra, because what she's seeing is a vision that's of dissociation, as though she's watching apart from her body, and at first she doesn't understand. She's still clutching Adora's still body in her arms, and yet... if they were but moments from death in the Heart Chamber, why is she seeing this now, instead? Still, she can sense the presence of Etheria’s magic here, like she's felt before… and then she begins to understand- while she didn't intend to let the magic take from her feelings to make this beautiful dream, because Etheria’s magic has become so natural to her, she had subconsciously let it. And because of this, the dream is perfect, exactly of Catra's truest and deepest feelings. Etheria is doing this for Adora- but it's with her help.

As she's watching Catra realizes that this dream is has been made to be the perfect antidote to Adora’s traumatized mind. The way Etheria’s magic choose to put Adora in the place she feels safest, Brightmoon. The way Glimmer and Bow are there, and as lovers. The way her dream self gently touches Adora’s shoulders with gentle but possessive love, trying to sooth her and make her feel how she's wanted. This dream version of herself is exactly honest to how Catra always wanted to act around Adora, but with the violence that surrounded their lives, and then the war which divided them, it was something she never felt safe doing. Yet now, as the world stands on the edge of annihilation, Catra’s heart is wide open, she's ready to give her truest and most earnest self.

Catra never really made a conscious decision to stop fighting Etheria's magic to instead harmonize with it, it convinced her over time that it was always on her side. Unlike Shadow Weaver's magic, which was always cruel and controlling, Etheria's magic soothed her, it felt natural, and kind. And Etheria’s magic has helped Catra many times, such as the first time encountered its presence when she and Adora were inside the Crystal Castle during Promise. Back then she hardly knew what was happening, yet she knew that magic was whispering to her, telling her she was right to feel that Adora endangered her life with her naive need to serve others expectations, and that she needed to wait until Adora learned from her naive mistakes before she could return her love again. But those times are gone, Adora has learned now, she's the closest thing to a hero Catra has ever seen, and she's so close to becoming a great hero. Now, at this crucial moment, Etheria's magic needed her help, and so Catra finds herself sharing the love in her heart with it, so that they can show Adora this beautiful dream, together... to save her...

With silent approval Catra watches her dream self gently cling to Adora’s shoulders, coveting her as precious- Adora is her treasure, after all. She knows this touch is calming Adora, even as Adora still rebels from the dream, knowing that she was dying moments ago.

Lovingly, Catra wishes for Adora to stop being so suddenly smart. For once in your life, abandon your anxiety and stop fighting this feeling, Adora, because this is how I love you. This is how I will treasure and protect you, and I will always be with you. But you have to be strong enough to choose my love, like I have chosen love. I will never doubt love again, and I will never leave you again, but I need you to hang on, and I need you to wake up!

Catra watches as Adora is getting closer to accepting her love, yet still hesitates, doubting it can be real. She knows it's going to take something much grander to convince Adora- and then, Catra watches as her dream self beautifully turns on heel to offer her hand to Adora: offering her the chance to dance again, this time with love in their hearts. It's a waking dream that has been one of Catra’s most earnest and constant daydreams- to get to dance with Adora again, like they did at Princess Prom- but as lovers, not enemies. Etheria's magic has taken this waking dream and so beautifully expressed it that she sees Adora’s worry finally fade away, being replaced with a look of wonder, and then watches as Adora looks to the pin on her jacket. See? We're to be married! My love is true, you have to believe me!

As Adora abandons doubt and gives into the beauty of it, Catra knows she is hers to save, if Adora only takes her hand now, she will wake knowing what it means to be loved…

But then, just like Adora, Catra sees the glitch as Adora’s hand passes through her own. Her heart sinks, as Prime materializes, her connection to Adora temporarily disrupted. Angrily Catra realizes that Prime had been waiting for the best moment to interrupt the dream and shatter Adora’s hopes. Prime will never let Adora take her hand, because he knows that could save her.

As he taunts Adora, he's taunting her, too. To show Catra how distant she is, and powerless, that she can't reach Adora through the reality he's imposing on her to torture her, sinking her into his void, where she will fall towards oblivion, towards death. It's disgustingly condescending- he wants to make her feel helpless…

Instead, Catra feels cold anger inside her, it's giving her focus, and she refuses to give up. We were so close, she thinks, and as devious as Prime is, she knows that he’s not perfect. With this new found focus she searches for a way to reach Adora and wrest her from Prime's control, wracking her mind, feeling out a way to her. Then she finds it- it's like a path of green, as if a string of fate, connecting herself and Adora.

It's Prime’s virus- she and Adora are bound by this thin line of green code- the virus which is in both their bodies. Catra quickly realizes that Prime has made a mistake by infecting her, too, as the virus doesn't hurt her the way it does Adora. And this code, this string, this connection, it's something she can control, it gives her a way in to where he's trapped her. She can backhack the connection, much like she did before with the chip in her neck to spy on him and his plans for Etheria when she was on Darla after Adora had saved her.

As Catra follows that string of fate towards Adora, she's still conscious of Adora’s dying body in her arms. Simultaneously in both worlds, this gives Catra the way to open the door back to reality for Adora- but Adora will have to fight her way free, Catra can't make that choice for her. It takes her only a moment to find her, and then she calls out Adora’s name, reaching down to her, as the bridge back to reality, and the way out of Prime’s prison…

... Adora is sinking down, down into Prime’s oblivion. Tears from her eyes trail upwards, just as though she were truly falling downward. It really… wasn't enough, she thinks. I've never had a chance, to escape this cruel fate that was thrust on me since before I could even remember. Nobody can help me now, I am alone… as it has always been.

“Adora!” Her eyes snap open as she hears her name being called, by… Catra?? But how... and yet, there Catra is above her, wreathed in the light of a doorway, the door out of her prison, back towards living, back towards reality.

“Adora, please- you have to wake up!” Wake up? Am I sleeping? I can think�� so that would mean I'm conscious, right? But the pain, oh this pain- Horde Prime’s pain. She was so sure she was dying, and it's too confusing to her that Catra is here, now. It isn't enough, she can't accept it… her arms feel heavy, paralyzed, she cannot move. And yet… she does want to move very badly... her heart is waking up... at the sight of Catra... it wants... to get back... to Catra...

As Catra sees the fear in Adora’s eyes, she knows that Adora is doubting, now, more than she has ever before. Catra understands- I must make every word count, or she'll fall beyond my reach, gone forever. Still, she hasn't found the key that will save Adora, so instead she does the only thing she can- she lets her heart speak for her, abandoning any self conscious thoughts that might have stopped her in the past as she does so.

Every word that Catra speaks then rings down on Adora as the greatest truths she's ever spoken- “You can't give up. You've never given up on anything in your life, not even on me.” Meanwhile, outside the dream, she clutches Adora closer.

Despite her lingering doubt, Adora’s senses are now wide open- seeing, hearing Catra, yearning to understand her words. Still, she can't move… and even if she could reach, it won't be enough, Adora thinks. Adora sees the look in Catra’s eyes shift to one of determination and command. “So don't you dare start now!” Catra reaches further for her, her hand is now demanding that Adora to reach for it. It's enough for Adora to be able to tap into her unrealized reserves of strength and push past the pain. She exerts her entire body in one motion as she reaches for Catra- it works- her arms finally come free as the shackles on her body break, but still she feels weak. Her hand is far too short of Catra’s, as she suspected it would be. Mournfully, she calls out “It’s too late. I've failed.” The tears well up in her eyes, all of her doubts from a lifetime of being hurt and having unfair burdens thrust on her reverberate in those small, scared words…

As Catra hears the mournfulness in Adora’s words, her blood chills like ice, she can't let Adora give up now. Heart racing, Catra finds herself desperately calling back “No, no!” Again, she wracks her mind further…I need more, I must say more…

All of the hurt, the abuse Shadow Weaver inflicted on us… our meager, pitiful melancholy lives, it's so close to ending... We are so close to the start of a life where we can be free. “I've got you. I'm not letting go.” That's all Catra can think to say, as back in reality, Catra hugs Adora’s unconscious body hard, knowing that she can't feel her loving embrace. I have to give you more, I'll give everything for you! How do I give you more-?

Adora finds herself struggling to reach father for Catra when she hears Catra’s truest words, telling her that she's got her. She can tell their hands are a bit closer now, the sound of yearning in Catra’s voice having unlocked something in Adora, as for the first time in her life, she feels as though perhaps she's not so alone, and maybe, just maybe, Catra might know how she feels… so that she won't have to be so alone anymore.

Their fingers are so close, Adora can taste the distance between them, and she yearns to hear Catra's next, most truest words. Words she does not yet know that she yearns to hear... yet her heart has always wanted. It has always asked to hear Catra's next, most truest words... breathlessly she awaits, and then... Catra speaks those very words...

“Don't you get it? I LOVE you.”

Love… like the idiot she is, Adora didn't see this coming, yet her heart did, having wished for it all this time... and that word strikes her like lightning, energizing her. She feels enlivened by it, it's as though electricity is crawling over every inch of her skin. In this moment, Adora’s consciousness is suddenly fully present, her doubts gone... she's yearning to know more of what Catra means with that word, love. What it love, what does she mean? As her best friend? As a... lover? I have to know more, I want to stay a bit longer… so I can hear what she means!

“.... I always have.” ... Another jolt of electricity, waking her heart up inside: it confirms that Adora’s hopes were right, Catra does know how she feels. She's not alone… she never has been… Catra is with her, she’s got her…

“So please, just this once- stay!” Again, a jolt of energy, as again Adora finds herself being commanded. Being told to no longer be alone- the love of her life is right there, demanding that she stay long enough to know love... demanding that she live. Demanding that she'll never be alone again, with Catra always by her side…

Love unburdens Adora- the single act of Catra’s understanding, frees her. The weight of doubt holding her down is suddenly gone, as if it never existed. To her previous struggle, there is no struggle, and there is no distance between them- that's how effortlessly Adora finds her hand reaching the final distance to Catra’s. Just as Catra’s does, too- she, too, is unburdened by love. Their palms touch, their fingers interlace, the bridge is finally secure. Through their connection Adora can feel Catra’s warmth rushing into her body, awakening her, bringing her back to reality. Yet as it does, Adora finds her vision goes dark… as it must be, so that she can wake back into consciousness… out of the dream, and back to reality…

Now waking back into her body, Adora can sense the peril of the heart, and how hopelessly Catra clings her body to her own to shield her from it, to give her just a few more seconds to live. It won't be enough, she can tell that the heart is about to lash out at them both. She hears Catra repeating again in a desperate whisper- “please, stay" realizing that Catra doesn't yet know she's back. Or how the Heart is about to arc out and silence them both, forever. Calmly Adora find herself thinking- No- it's my turn to protect you. She summons her shield, grounding the charge and absorbing the Heart’s energy, temporarily quieting it, giving her a time enough to speak to her dearest love….

As she looks up into Catra’s stunned eyes, she can tell that Catra is in disbelief that she's come back to life, which is really cute, but there's no time for that, now. She has to know what Catra meant, when she said she loved her… “You love me-?”

“...You're such an idiot” Catra says with relief as Catra finally knows that she's got Adora, she's back, safe in her arms…

::Oh hey there! Im actually gonna end my summary here, because their kiss is perfect, and I know I can't do it justice. Instead, let me say one more thing.

What makes their love confessions, and their kiss, so perfect, to me, is that it happens as each of them is realizing that they're being truly seen by the other for the first time in their lives. They are both imperfect souls, and let their fears and emotions block themselves from really seeing the other truely, so much so that they've hurt each other time and time again. But now, not only are they being seen for the best in themselves, but they also know the other sees their fears and desperate hopes and loves them all the more for those imperfections. Adora’s look as she asks Catra “You love me-?” is that of someone who's been hurting her whole life, desperate to make a difference but given far too few tools to do so, who felt useless while striving to satisfy others needs, her desperation from this making her lash out and destroy her chances at being a true hero. Catra knows all of that, and she loves her, she believes she is a good person, and has become a true hero.

Catra’s stunned look when Adora tells her “I love you, too” is that of someone who thought she could never been seen for the good in her by someone else, as someone who's been wronged her whole life, who was right to resist it, but wrong in her willingness to enact extreme violence for this, yet Adora sees all of Catra’s past wrongs and fears and knows that the pure hearted Catra before her in this moment is her true self.

As Catra realizes Adora is seeing her truly for the first time, she knows kissing her and making their love canon is the only proper act, it's all that there's left to do. In this moment, SPOP beautifully captures how important that feeling of understanding really is. We all desire it, but many don't believe it's possible. How can someone love us, if we're so flawed? But what if that's one of the best parts we can reveal, and to be loved for?

================================

Appendix of Explanations

Why this post? Is it necessary?

Well, I certainly think so??!!! Because there are no miracles in SPOP like most shows rely on. Catra saving Adora and then Adora saving the universe is possible because of very specific and defined forces, N. D. Stevenson made sure of that. He doesn't rely on anything like that cuz that's how good of a writer he is. Catra can see Adora in her dream and then open the door to pull her to safety for very defined reasons. There's no dues ex machina!

Why is it so important that Catra is in Adora's dream, and why is it important that this is Etheria's magic in action?

Adora's dream isn't an accident at all, and this story would not be the greatest of all time if Catra wasn't deeply the reason for Adora becoming a true hero. To that end, there needed to be a reason Catra could understand how to save Adora. Basically, a mythology. Etheria's magic helping her is this mythology: it's an active force in their world. And Catra resonates with that magic which is why she has the ability to act as she did. Catra has her own magic power: it's not obvious like with the princesses, but she is nonetheless the focus of that force of nature. Sure, N.D Stevenson needed magic to finish the story, a common criticism of stories like this, but the laws governing that magic are well defined.

Why all the explanation about Catra when Adora is the hero? Isn't that the more important part?

I don't mean to downplay Adora's part, she really IS the hero and she's that person because of some very important personality factors, she just can't do it without some help- specifically Catra's help, and Catra can only help her because of how she's harmonizing with the magic! And it's ok for Adora to get some help, we all need help from time to time! In fact, it's unrealistic for her not to need help. Catra's supposed to help her, Etheria knows this, so Catra is her harmony, and their love together is where real power comes from!

Lastly, I am a META writer. Everything I wrote here is based on a frame by frame META analysis of the story, and I give every assurance it's based in truth. Also true is I did use some flowery language to fill in the gaps of the dramatic moments, to make it flow better. Still, even if I ever strayed towards the over dramatic, the meaning is overall true, and if there's any part that you want a meta explanation for, such as how Catra finds Adora through Horde Prime's virus, I will give a moment by moment explanation! Just send me an ask! Also, check my blogs table of contents HERE for more meta explanations. This post might seem like a lot of metas, rest assured I've written explanations to the metas contained here... if that's any consolation! This post is also meant to bring them all together as a story...

So, I'll leave things there. If you liked my explanation and feel it helped you understand what really went on better, please share it with others. And of course, thank you for your likes and your rebloggs!! Reblogs will help others see this, too!

Thank you 🙇 thank you for any rebloggs you can give me, they are life!

Graciously, Etheria Dearie.

Happy Pride, everyone!

#spop #she ra #she ra and the princesses of power #spop meta #catradora dream theory #she ra meta #catradora #she ra synopsis #lgbtqiia+

106 notes · View notes

anxious-witch · 5 months ago

Text

On Charles, Edwin and Crystal's relationship with violence and how it does(and doesn't) solve their peoblems, and the inherit privledge of considering non-violence can always be the answer.

Before I get to it, sorry I cannot for the life of me find the post that talked about DBDA's relationship to violence aka that it shows that there is always a better solution and how most of the problems are solved through other means. It is a really good post, so if anyone knows it, please send me the link so I can put it here.

Anyway. What I wanted to say is that while yes, I partially agree, I don't think that's quite correct. Or not always. The series definitely makes a point of saying that things should be solved by other means whenever possible, but I think we see 3 instances where that isn't true. The first meeting with The Night Nurse and Charles, Crystal meeting David in the woods, and in part, Charles getting Edwin out of Hell.

Before I get to breaking down how each one was necessary, I think what kind of bothers me is the reaction Edwin and Crystal have to Charles attacking the Night Nurse. Not so much the inital reaction because I understand that they both have trauma connected to violence, but them insisting his reaction was extreme slightly...irks me?

I understand it from Crystal-she had a lot on her plate in the past few weeks and she just got out of abusive rs. Not to mention, she doesn't know Charles and Edwin for that long. But Edwin? My god did I wanna shake him.

Like, don't get me wrong, I love Edwin to death and the fact that he is flawed is part of that but I wish it was acknowledged that his disregard for self defense and to be able to not only refuse violence, but in many cases when Charles steps in to protect him to not even move aside because he knows Charles is there for what it is-a privledge. The fact that he never had ti physically defend himself ever since he got out of Hell is a privledge because Charles does it. And to no small personal cost. I don't think Charles likes to be violent. He doesn't revel in it, and we actually see him break down several times over thinking he is a bad person because he uses violence to defend himself and his friends.

Does he sometimes use it impulsively? Yes, as seen in the episode with the Devlins'. And he pays dearly for hi error, being stuck in a loop that's directly related to his own trauma.

But in some situations, there was no other answer. The Night Nurse would have made him and Edwin relieve their trauma until they gave in. Crystal couldn't help and in that moment, neither could Niko. Charles' violence gave them more time, which gave Edwin and then Niko, more time to think of a peaceful solution. Of a bargain. But it would not have been possible without Charles kicking her off the cliff.

For the scene with David in the woods-yeah, sure he didn't solve the whole problem of David altogether, but he did A) male him fuck off for the forseeable future and B) helped Crystal feel safer due to the fact he defended her when she was powerless. With the violence, he gives her time to gain her powers back, to come and resolve it directly when she feels safe and confident enough to do so.

We see it once again when he goes to save Edwin in Hell. Yes, they get out of Hell by running, but when Charles initally suggests it, Edwin is terrified. "If I run it chases me," he says and he doesn't move. So what does Charles do? He throws a bomb at the Dollhead Spider. Which once again, gives them time to run and escape and perhaps more importantly makes Edwin feel safe.

Violence is considered bad for a reason. But I think who and why someone uses violence is very important. A bully throwing a hit for fun and a victim throwing one back to defend themselves aren't the same. They cannot be the same. And bullies, no matter the form they take, sometimes only understand violence.

I am not saying go ahead and kill someone for bullying you. But I am saying that sometimes, the teachers don't listen until you throw a punch back. Problems should always be tried to solved peacefully, but if you think every problem can be solved non-violently, I think you had the privledge to never have to do so.

Charles takes on the burden of being a protector, of using violence as means of protection and I really hope that's acknowledged at some point. Because while yes, Edwin obviously has his own talents, Charles does his job at a great personal cost. And sometimes, while violence cannot solve the root of the problem, it can give you more time and space to get to the root. And that's okay, as long as you don't lose sight of why are you using measures you are using.

#charles rowland #dead boy detectives #edwin payne #crystal palace #tw violence #rio's rambly analysis

69 notes · View notes

everythingne · 10 months ago

Text

KINTSUGI - AKIN TO A PRIDE VERSE - MV1

When brought to panic by ruthless reporters, Reina snaps and hits a reporter out of instinct. In desperation, Hana flies Max to London help her daughter out of a depressive episode caused by Reina thinking that she's more like her father than she ever wants to be. And Max realizes some things about who you call family.

warnings: reporters grabbing reina, mentioned rumors of domestic abuse, mentions of child abuse and past/current broken metacarpal (hand) bones (wow look at me being sciency?), many assumptions about max's childhood, reina has a whole break down, reminder this isn’t a romance series, also btw I changed reina's age to make her 20 (legit go back and look LOL) and that totally isn't something for silly foreshadowing purposes no no, my comeback after going to college LMAO

I'M FUCKING SCREWED. I'm so fucking screwed. I can feel the anxiety coursing through my arms as I stand there, my teammates off to my side as we try and fight through the media pen. We weren't even supposed to be here but Ollie Bearman had decided he was bored and dragged me and Kimi Antonelli along to see some other drivers by wandering along the pit lane. We were all pretty civil with one another, save for one or two weird rivalries here or there, so we were quick to amass a group that eventually Trident broke up when they needed Richard back.

And then media had shown up, and we'd gotten quickly swarmed with no real way out.

Luckily, Kimi had called someone from the paddock to come get us and help us out so as we slowly pushed through the crowd as politely as possible, someone was actively coming to us.

And then I had gotten split off.

"Ollie!" I shouted, trying to grab his attention, but my voice is lost among those of the reporters who chase after him. How theres so many reporters here, I have no idea. It's not normal. And then again, nothing about this season really was normal because of the whole siblings thing.

"Miss Matsumoto!" someone shouts and a camera is shoved in my face, I try to keep a calm composure, nodding sharply in greeting as I try to continue through the crowd, "How are you feeling about your race tonight?"

"I think I'll be alright," I nod, pulling the rim of my hat down a bit further, "My team has grown a bit with Max's personal trainer giving us some tips for my physical training and it's been really interesting seeing how just changing my diet and training has made drive different."

"How is your relationship with Max?" Someone else shouts and a smile happily crosses my face, okay, I can do this. Just keep talking and just keep pushing forward. Do what Max taught you.

"He's been incredible, a lot kinder than people give him credit for." I make sure to point that out as I walk. A few more questions about Max are tossed my way, what exactly he's been teaching me (how to train for Formula One specifically, different ways to keep my brain sharp, physical training adjustments, how to cope with the drastic difference between F2 and F1, which both Logan and Oscar had already told me about), if I've met Kelly and Penelope (I have, Penelope adores me for some reason), who I've met in Red Bull (Daniel, Max, Christian, Geri, a few engineers, some other drivers who now raced for other teams, and such.)

And then someone asks something that makes my stomach crawl, "Can you tell us why we haven't seen your father in the paddock this season even though his racing company is one of your main sponsors?"

"It's only the third race. I'm sure we'll see him in Sakura." I smile, trying to keep my voice level, but the reporters have found something to latch onto. I took too long to respond.

"How is your relationship with him been impacted since moving in with your mother?"

"The timezones make it hard to speak, but he is still my father, so," I shrug, trying now a bit more desperately to shove through the crowd. They're not letting me go. I can hear Kimi telling someone to move, his voice is sharp and annoyed, but the reporter doesn't listen.

"Is it true your father abused you?"

"What?" I gape, but reporters flash cameras and shove over each other to get to me. My reaction fuels them.

"Is Project Matsumoto a real thing, or just a mimic of Project Verstappen?"

I can't even recover from the last question as I gasp out, "I'm sorry?" I don't even know what they're referencing.

"Did Red Bull pick you to be Max's sibling due to your similar childhoods?"

I can't get words out now, the berating is on, and all I can do is try and back away. I can see Ollie waving a hand, trying to beckon me through the crowd, and now FIA officials are coming to move the reporters away. It's a mess of shoving and screaming, people in my face as they repeat themselves until their voices pitch to shouts and screams. I can't move through because any step I take is immediately countered by a shift in the tide of cameras and voices, blocking my path.

"Was your fathers attitude is Sakhir last year reflective of your childhood with him?" "How did your parents divorce effect your racing career?" "Is it hard to be living away from your Japanese roots?" "Why did your mother accuse your father of emotional and physical domestic abuse when they divorced?"

A reporter steps forward and grabs me and I rip back from him. Ollie's shoving a reporter to the side, trying to grab me before he's closed off by the ocean of people around me.

"Is the rumor of your fathers mistreatment of you true?" The man asks again, trying to grab me and I stumble back in a panic. My hat is pulled off by him instead, and I just let it go as I bring my arms to my stomach and wrap around myself.

"Please! Everyone, wait--!" I cry out, the obvious panic in my tone making my skin flame with embarrassment.

"Answer the question!" The same man shouts, shoving a reporter aside as raising his hand with his microphone. All I see is the raising of a fist in the shadow of my father, and my brain reacts before I can really think about what I'm about to do.

Crack!

I gasp as soon as I make the connection. It's hard. Max's training paying off well. Ollie's infront of me, grabbing my wrists and gently pulling me to the side until he can get me out of the crowd. Prema's around me in seconds, closing me off as I stare at my hands and feel the blood seeping across my knuckles.

I'm so screwed.

They get me into the paddock, voices over my head and slipping through my ears. I'm sat in my drivers room, Ollie and Kimi being peeled from my sides to go off and get ready for the race. I can't hear, can't think, a constant ringing ruining any conscious thought. My knuckle is split. My ring finger. I stare as one of the medics begins to clean up the wound.

Not even the sting can pull me from the thoughts racing through my head.

I hit someone. Struck a man out of fear. He had grabbed me, knocked my hat off, I had every reason to hit him. Yet, I had hit someone. I could hear my father's voice ringing in the back of my head, warnings of inheritance and passing down genetics I had shaken off to make myself feel better.

I was not my father. Never would be my father. I was so sure of that. Until today.

When the medic lets go of my hand and sets it on my lap, I feel fear strike my bones. And when René comes to get me, my silence is terrifying to everyone. I stand silent, straight faced, not even cracking a smile. The cameras watch me twice as much, I react a thousand times less.

Max is sitting on his bed, Penelope happily napping on his chest as he watches the pre-race bullshit for Reina. He had off today, oddly enough, and Kelly had gone out to do some sort of PR management event which left him to watch little Penelope. No problem at all.

The pre-race is what he's expecting, he can see Ollie dragging Reina and Kimi around and amassing a small group of F2 drivers outside of Trident. He laughs when Kimi hoists Reina into his arms, loudly announcing her by her nickname of Little Lion and making the rest of the boys cheer. What he isn't expecting is when they break up from the rest of the drivers to return to their paddock. Ollie's leading Kimi and Reina back when they get cut off by a mass of reporters. F2 hadn't been prepared for their usual amount of media to almost multiply by ten, and apparently it had been causing all sorts of issues.

Like this.

The questions are easy enough. He feels a weird swell of pride when he notices how easily Reina answers the reporters compared to before he'd started teaching her some media techniques.

And then the questions shift.

He can see Reina's panic after the first question, actually he sees it as soon as the word 'father' is brought up. He sits up a bit, gently readjusting Penelope as he turns the TV a bit louder. The camera swings away for a moment to show Ollie and Kimi pause when they realize Reina's not there, and their quick turn around before the camera swaps to show Reina.

She looks horrified. Max feels a burn in his chest as he sits up and leans forward, almost willing Ollie through the crowd. He can see multiple Prema people attempting to shove through, but every attempt is in vain. Nothing is working. It's a Sisyphean task.

Then the reporter tries to grab Reina and Max has to hold himself back from getting up and shouting at the TV. Not that it's gonna change anything. Reina steps back, and her eyes are darting around, trying to find a weak spot to escape. She can't, Max realizes, as the reporters close in.

The next thing he sees is her arm jut forward, a loud crack sounding over the speakers. His jaw drops, the sight of Reina hitting someone so foreign to him. Silence falls over the crowd as Ollie grabs her and pulls her away, someone else shouting for her to come on as Prema swarms her in a protective bubble. The feed cuts there and leaves Max on a cliff hanger for thirty minutes until they are just about to start the race. The anthem is playing. But, the Reina he sees on the screen is not his Reina.

She's silent, stone faced, frozen still and almost robotic. She moves soft as a dancer, but her gaze is sharper than an ice skaters blades. She wins, sure, but he can't get her haunted look out of his brain. She carries it even through her podium, not even able to smile when she hoists the trophy above her head.

The call from Hana the next day is expected. The invite to their flat in London is not.

"She just needs someone who understands what she's going through." Hana had pleaded on the phone, "I know it's wrong of me to say it, but you were treated a very similar way when you first got into F1 and especially when you started winning. You had a similar past, you both have similar struggles. She needs your help, Max.”

Max had wanted to suggest a therapist, a psychiatrist even, but he knew Reina would rather throw herself in front of a Le Mans car, probably the Porsche 936, than talk about her problems. Which left the question of if she would even talk to him.

But he tells Christian and Geri what's happening for a second opinion, and he is told he should go.

So he's on a flight to London three hours later, about a weeks worth of clothing packed haphazardly. He thinks he forgot a toothbrush and aftershave, but he doesn't care to check. After careful conversation, Hana had agreed to let him get a hotel close by, so he could give Reina space. Hana had been so certain Reina needed him, but Max wasn't even sure if Hana had tried to reach out to her daughter herself. Apparently Reina wasn't eating, doing her training, or even the sim. She had been in bed except for when she was forced out, and luckily there was a bit longer break than usual, it gave Max time.

He gets to the flat around eleven in the morning, twirling the keys of his rental car in his hand. He tells Hana he's coming inside and she gives him the code to the lobby and to the flat. The second one isn't needed, the woman is waiting for him in the hall.

“Thank you so much for coming out here.” Hana sighs when she sees Max and he’s shocked to see the usually classy woman in such a disheveled state, he gives her a hug in greeting but allows her to ramble through it.

“I’m sorry that I’m such a mess, I just—Reina hasn’t done this in so long it’s genuinely frightening to see it again.” Hana wipes her face, sniffling as she shakes her hands to sort of shake it off, “I’ve been trying to get her to do anything and she just won’t, she’s usually twice as active after a race, not sedimentary! I don’t know what to do—“

Max cuts off her rambling with a soft, “Hey, relax. You’ve done all you can. You go and take care of yourself, I’ll talk to Reina.”

It must be what Hana needs to hear (it’s something he’d been told by his mom when comforting Victoria growing up) because Hana barrels into his chest in a hug, thanking him probably thirty times in a row before stepping back and letting him in.

The apartment is gorgeous, Max can’t lie. It’s got big windows and tons of natural lighting, bright bold colors in decorations he’s sure Reina picked out. Which, he guesses, makes sense, because it will become her apartment soon. Hana points him in the direction of Reina’s room, but seems so genuinely distraught she can’t go near.

And this is where he’s stepping off the dock.

He hesitates to knock, but does eventually. It’s soft enough he’s sure Reina won’t hear it, but then he hears the most broken, teary and bitter, “what?” from the other side of the door.

“It’s Max.” He presses his hand to the handle, eyes staring through the wood as he leans in to the door itself, almost as if trying to see Reina through it, “can I come in?”

There’s a long enough pause he thinks she’ll say no. But theres a soft, "okay."

He pushes the door open to the darkness of Reina's room. One Himalayan salt lamp is on in the corner, providing a slightly warm glow to the room. The blinds are drawn tight, blackout curtains hastily thrown over them, and Reina's head is the only part of her body that's visible under her mass of blankets. Her room isn't quite messy, just cluttered with partially empty water bottles and a plate of cold breakfast. He remembers this. The shutting yourself off part of this all, of being raised like they had. Or, the lack thereof.

"Mornin'." He says simply, walking over to sit on the edge of her bed. Reina blinks a few times, like she can't even believe Max is there, and slowly sits up.

"Why are you here?" Her voice is groggy but not in the sense of just waking up, it sounds more like shes been sobbing for hours. A claim backed up by the redness of her swollen eyes and sniffly nose.

"Your mom called." He doesn't sugarcoat, never has, "I saw the punch. What did the FIA give you for that?"

“Five second penalty. Kimi was behind by six. Didn’t matter.” She grumbled, looking over at him from where she’s bundled up. She looks miserable, and though Max knows he’s started to crack through to get her to talk, he needs to keep trying.

“Did they fix your brakes?” Max asks and Reina nods, then sits up and sighs.

“I know you didn't fly all the way from Monaco to London for small talk. What’s wrong?” She asks, scrubbing at her red cheeks as she crosses her legs and grabs a large plush Hello Kitty and buries her face in it.

“Your mom said you’re not handling it well,” Max hums, leaning back on his hand and looking over at Reina as she curls a little bit tighter around her plushie.

“I hit someone.” She whines, “I hit him.”

“He grabbed you.” Max says, looking over at Reina and letting out a tiny non-committal hum, “the reason the FIA gave you such a little punishment is because it’s self defense.”

“But Max, I hit him.” Reina emphasized and Max blinked. What the fuck was she getting at here? His confusion must be all over his face because she shifts slightly closer and he can see where she'd split one of her knuckles open. Hana hold told him the finger was technically broken, but Reina refused to wear her brace on it. Something about having already worn one in the past. Not that Max would know. But when Reina goes to ball her hand into a fist, he notes her pinkie and ring finger don't close. Daniel's injury rings in his mind for a second, but he shoves the thought away as Reina continues to repeat herself, more broken, more panicked.

“Reina," Max attempts to soothe her, scooting a a bit closer to place a hand on hers, hiding the injury from her sight, "what are you getting at here?"

"I..." She stammers, eyes darting around his face, and then she huffs out a question he's not expecting, "Are you afraid of being like your father?"

Max blinks. The silence encompassing the room for a long while before he sighs out a soft, "Yeah, terrified."

"Me too." Reina nods, flexing her hand again. Max watches the way her eyes dart down to her injury and he realizes she's trying to cue him in. It's like a puzzle, and he has to put together the pieces to get the picture. She doesn't say anything next, leaving Max to figure it out himself, so he just watches Reina.

She's fidgety, fingers tapping along her injured hand, but he notes she keeps poking her pinkie. She'd injured her right ring finger, not the pinkie, so he's not sure what she's trying to do. She's not concerned over her current injury, but the past one. His eyes trail along her clothing, her mothers old NASCAR jersey, the rest of her hidden under mass amounts of fuzzy blankets. Her hair is braided back, greasy, and knotted, her skin is dull but still clear save for one or two pimples in her hairline. She wasn't taking care of herself, he could see that, it was a classic depressive episode.

Max meets her eyes and sees shes trying to pick him apart too.

But why? What did she need to know? Max was pretty open with her, he'd told her more than he told most people. Geri had encouraged it, hell she'd even asked if she could tell Hana some stuff from when he first got to Red Bull. The first time he'd snapped at Christian, expecting to be shouted back at, but was shocked at his calm tone. The first Christmas, when he had no one to go to, and Christian invited him to their home and though Max was slightly out of place he'd stolen the attention of the kids in a heartbeat. That was the day he'd become almost like a fifth kid to the Horners. Geri had asked if he was comfortable talking about his childhood with Hana, and he had, though it was a difficult conversation. She'd asked wonderful questions about healing and growing up and moving on, asked how much moving to Monaco and being on his own at eighteen had helped. Being on his own was freeing, he'd said that much, and though he kept some parts out he knew Hana could piece it together.

Hold on.

Max had snapped because he thought Christian would be like Jos when he'd failed to overtake on a turn.

Max hadn't had anywhere to go that Christmas because it was the first time he was celebrating without any family in the same home.

Max became an unofficial Horner because his own familial issues.

Max had moved to Monaco to get away from his father.

Reina was afraid to be like her father.

Reina was always looking to Max for validation, even with how short they had known each other.

Reina's injury, from what little Max knew, was caused after she had crashed out of a race--in heer drivers room. The last time she'd seen her dad after she'd left their house in Fukushima.

Shit.

"Reina." Max starts, not sure if he even knows how to approach this. He'd been the messy one, the one to snap, the one to shout, the one to lash out. It was evident of an 'avoidant attachment style' from his childhood or whatever the hell that meant, therapists always confused him with technicalities. Max wasn't gentle, he wasn't soft like this, he was hard edges and half-broken promises. How does one avoid their own sharp edges when trying to handle something so soft? How can Max be sure he won't break Reina?

"What happened to your pinkie?" He asks, gently prodding the knuckle with his own. Reina meets his eyes. He can't find her in her own gaze.

"Boxer's fracture." She murmurs, "Like Daniel's."

"I know that, but how did it happen?" He pushes and when Reina freezes up, he whispers, "Listen, it's just us right now. I'm gonna keep you safe, yeah? Like a real brother would."

Max had enough experience protecting Victoria.

"My dad." Reina starts, then swallows and closes her eyes. She leans forward, seeking out Max, and he moves so she can rest her head on his shoulder, staring down at her hands covered by his, "Last year, when I crashed out towards the end of the season. I was living with my mom by then, so I never really saw him. I didn't even know he was at the race. I got to my drivers room and we got in an argument. My mom tried to split us up and he slapped her so hard she fell over. I pushed him to get him to leave her alone and..."

Reina struggles to find the words and whatever she had gone through is a thousand times worse than Max could've ever expected.

"He grabbed me by the wrist, I grabbed a door to get away and he slammed it on my hand. Broke my metacarpal in two places, I needed surgery, so I never finished the season. Finished thirteenth."

Max is still. So still he's not even sure he's still breathing. Reina sniffles, and Max feels her tears hit the back of his hand.

"You don't wanna wear the brace because it takes you back." He says and Reina just lets out a soft hum. He doesn't know what to do. So, he does what Geri had done the few times she'd had to comfort him. One arm around her shoulders, the other on her head, and he pulls her taught to his chest to cradle her there.

The sob she lets out shatters his heart and he tries to pull her impossibly closer. They're flush to one another, theres no more space to close, but he still tries as Reina breaks and shatters in his hands like fine china. He attempts to piece her back together but there's not enough of him intact to repair her. Max, for his benefit, has dealt with Penelope's tired melt downs and so he gives Reina a waterbottle and wipes her tears, lays her down admist her blankets and tucks her in tightly. He sits on the floor by her face, running his fingers through her hair as best he can, gently running his thumb along her shoulder.

He can tell shes not just crying because she'd hit someone, but theres more to it. And an hour or so later, when the tears subside, she finally opens her heart to him.

"I hate my dad." She whispers after maybe five minutes of silence, no longer broken by her sniffles.

"I do too." Hate his dad? Hate hers? He's not sure. But he stands up to open her curtains and blinds, hands itching to do something rather than just sit silent. The noon sun warms the room almost instantly, and Reina lifts her head to shift into the sun. He turns and speaks as he bends down to pick up a stray bottle, "Why do you hate him?"

"Just... everything he put me and my mom through." Reina sighs, "There's a lot he did I can never forgive him for."

"What did he do?" Max sits down again and Reina reaches out to his hand, which he obliges, and she pokes at his fingers.

"When I was growing up, I started karting in Japan with my father. He wanted me to race rally cars since I was born, even with his obvious disappointment I wasn’t a son. I competed for the first time on my fifth birthday, and won. I got scouted that day and my dad completely changed. It went from a little hobby I could have to a future career, especially when my mother learned she was infertile after my birth." Reina speaks monotonously, eyes distant as she recalls, and though Max has read up on her past he knows he's getting a new raw look at her life.

"My dad finally got me in rally when I was ten, a year before the divorce. I did it for three years. The worst three years of my life." Reina shifts so she's laying on her back, looking up at the ceiling and avoiding Max's eyes, "everything that my father had just simply said became physical. Every single time I made a mistake, I was hit. Every time I talked back, ignored him, walked away, did anything he deemed to be incorrect, I was hit. Sometimes just a whack to the back of my head in annoyance, most of the time closed fists. The only thing I was allowed to do was race, extracurriculars, and school. And that includes sleeping, eating, showering, and such."

"On my thirteenth birthday, my mom came to visit us in Japan for a race I had in Fukushima. I finished second because of some dirty play and my dad was so angry at the company for not catching that, he took it out on me completely. My mom and her boyfriend at the time saw the entire thing, a huge fight broke out, the cops got called, it was a whole thing.

"My mom sued my dad for only my custody, no payment, nothing. And he dug his own hole, the court found out he was spending all the money my mom sent for me on himself, I had saved years of evidence... my mom ended up getting full custody without a challenge, and a payment that amounted to all her payments of child support and then two years worth of payments of my fathers child support in advance. That all happened around the time I switched to Formula racing. The entire time I've been racing Formula I've been living with my mom and my dad has been sending child support."

"When he got... aggressive with you, was it always physical?" Max hums and Reina shakes her head. Max slowly starts to undo one of the braids to redo it, trying to ignore the greasy feeling on his hands, and she leans into his touch so much he has to pause as he feels her face rest against his arm.

"No, it was just shouting until I got into rally and then every once and a while he’d hit me. And the most he did before I got into rally was slap me once when I was like, six? But it was mostly just him ignoring me or screaming at me, or making me race to exhaustion." Reina sighs as she then rolls to curl up against his side and Max adjusts so that he's half laying down with Reina curled up on his chest. It's similar to the way he'd gotten the youngest Horner kids to sleep when he'd visit or babysit over the years.

"My father is one of the worst people on the planet," Reina stares out the window. Max hums non-committedly, moving a little bit closer as Reina speaks in the most dead tone he's ever heard as she says, "and I have always been his favorite punching bag."

"I was my father's favorite too." Max admits and Reina nods.

"What was he like?"

"Just a lot more manipulative and way less physical. A lot of it was just him ignoring me, leaving me places, shouting at me, pressuring me. A lot of manipulation when I'd call him out on it." Max hums, finding the braid he'd half undone to fully pull it out. Reina grabs a brush off her nightstand and hands it to him so he can start to brush out her hair. It's weirdly remnant of Victoria and Penelope. Reina hums and as Max brushes out her hair, he feels the way her body relaxes.

“So did you pick me or did Red Bull?” Reina asks maybe five minutes later and Max hums, fingers finding loops of her hair to slowly braid it again. Practically hearing Geri’s voice instructing him on how to braid because it was ‘something good to know for Penelope.’ He was glad he had listened to her. It was a good thing to know.

“They told me I was gonna train you, then told me I was gonna train Ollie.” Max hums, “Ollie’s great but… I dunno. I just knew I should mentor you. Call it divine intervention but I knew.”

“Im glad you chose me.” Reina murmurs against the fabric of his hoodie and he realizes how odd this moment is. He’d packed up in thirty minutes, gotten on a two hour flight, and spent an hour coaxing his mentees trauma out so he can help her. He could’ve just said he was busy, and yet he’d already given so much of his heart to Hana and Reina he knew he couldn’t just abandon them. Reina needed him just as much as he needed her.

"I'm glad I did too. And... listen, Rei, you hitting this guy because he scared you doesn't make you an abuser." Max watches as Reina picks her head up, resting her chin on his sternum to watch him, "and Reina, you being afraid of being like your father tells me you will never be."

"But I just... I hit someone like he hit me and it was just an echo. He always told me I would grow up to be like him." Reina closes her eyes and Max takes a hand to cup her face, running his thumb along her wet undereyes.

"But you hit out of fear, not out of anger or with the intention of abusing someone, thats the thing that will never make you like him."

Reina nods, and Max knows it'll probably take him the whole week to convince her of that. But, as Reina lays her head back down with a soft thank you, he feels like he's done enough. Only twenty four hours ago he had Penelope sleeping on his chest. Now Reina’s in the same spot, her hand reaching out to cup the setting sun with her injured hand.

“Kintsugi.” She says softly, then sits up. Max watches her, head tilting as she moves to her closet and swings the door open. Grabbing a stool, she clambers up to the top shelf and starts rustling around. From his vantage point on the bed, Max can see deep scars running the inside of her leg and wonders briefly where they’re from before Reina settled back in front of him on the couch. She sees him looking and swallows, digging something out of a box from her closet.

“Also from my dad.” She says, eyes flickering up, “same day my mom was in Fukushima.”

“Ah.” Max nods, and lets Reina continue to rustle. He wants to ask questions, but he’s curious as to what she’s doing. She sets down her brace and a thing of gold paint and hands a brush to him.

“What is this?”

“Okay. It’s kinda stupid because this is no where close to what you’re supposed to do, but hear me out,” Reina raises her hands in defense. Max let’s her have the floor, he’s not gonna judge her.

“Kintsugi, it’s a Japanese art of repairing broken pottery or dishes or whatever with urushi lacquer mixed with powered gold or whatever and I don’t have lacquer and this isn’t technically broken but!” Reina pauses her rambling, chews her lip, and looks away from Max and to the window, “When I had my first hand brace, my Jiji—my grandmother, she painted it with this beautiful gold design. She told me it was my kintsugi. That I was broken, and that she was mending me. And… she’s always been my biggest support. Besides my mom, Jiji sacrificed so much for me, almost all her salary went to helping me get into F4 because my dad stopped helping me pay for racing until he started sponsoring me last year. And… Kintsugi is our thing. If she breaks anything she waits for me to fix it.”

There’s something hanging here, something so vulnerable, so Max asks with plenty of pause to show his trepidation, “Why did you give me the brush, then? Where’s Jiji?”

“In Washington.” Reina hums, “And… you… you’re a really big supporter to me. And you mean a lot to me, Max. I’ve only known you for half a year now but… you’ve helped me with a lot. And you sacrifice a lot for me. You flew all the way here to help me because my Mom asked. And don’t think Christian didn’t tell me about you trying to anonymously sponsor me.”

Max laughs softly, “Guilty as charged.”

“I want you to paint something on it. Anything. I have a—“ Reina starts to dig again, “a gold marker too. I do this all the time with things I break—like my phone cases or my hair ties. This is a whole bin of knockoff Kintsugi.”

She hands Max the marker and then rolls off to the side to curl back into her blankets, but rests her head on his thigh. Max sits and stares at the brace in his hand, rolling it around in his grasp as he thinks of what to write. There’s about a thousand things that ring through his head, and none he can settle on.

And then he gets an idea.

While Reina watches him focus, the golden light of the sun haloing him, she wonders briefly if she’s found her own form of Kintsugi in him. Sure they weren’t perfect, and both deeply troubled in their own right, traumas rooted deep within them, but they had each other and that was what they needed.

And Max knew he found Kintsugi in Reina.

Reina sits up when Max hands her the brace back, making an odd face when she sees its written in Dutch.

“laat u niet definiëren door uw naam. Do not be defined by your name.” Max says simply, and Reina looks up at him and tears prick in her eyes immediately. When Max helps her put it on, he adds a bit more gold flare to the boring black brace and smiles.

“Now you can wear it, yeah?” he says, and Reina leans up to wrap her arms taught around him. He laughs softly and hugs her back, letting her bury her face in the side of his neck.

If she sobs, he doesn’t comment, just lets her lay there until she’s run dry.

A week later, Max is unpacking in Monaco when he notices something new in his bag. He finds a small little keychain, a little blue ribbon tied to a clasp he knows he can snag on his keys. It’s in Japanese, but the note attached makes him smile a little watery smile.

‘Max,

Thank you. That’s all I can say. For everything you were supposed to help me with, and everything you chose to do on your own. I hope I can return the favor.

Reina.

ps. it says ‘do not be defined by your name.’ just like my brace,’

The keychain hangs off the zipper of his work jacket instead. And if anyone asks—and Yuki is the first to ask the meaning since he knows what it actually says, he simply smiles and says it’s a gift. No other explanation needed.

Except for when Geri asks, and he tells her the whole story, and then Christian ‘yells’ at him for making Geri cry.

reinamatsumoto made a new post!

liked by gerihorner, logansargeant, maxverstappen, and 458k others...

reinamatsumoto: [come back soon, big brother]!!

viewing translation from japanese

tagged: maxverstappen

misshanatanaka: [so sweet! glad having him by helped sweetheart!!]

user1: CAPTOIN HAS ME IN FUCKING TEARS

user2: MAX IS HER BROTHER !!!!!!

logansargeant: did our sushi date meaning NOTHING.

⤷ reinamatsumoto: GOD YOU WANT A POST FOR FUCKING SUSHI??

⤷ logansargeant: YES?

⤷ oscarpiastri: please rei he's pouting.

⤷ reinamatsumoto: fine. anything for my favorite white boys.

⤷ user6: my favorite prema survivors <3

user3: CRYING OVER HER CALLING MAX HER BROTHER. OH. IM SO NOT WELL.

user4: so are we gonna talk ab her punching a reporter? bc shes hot for that.

oscarpiastri: PERONI??? FOUL.

gerihorner: so so so cute!!!!!

⤷ reinamatsumoto: thanks mom!!!

⤷ maxverstappen: thanks mom

user5: logan crying in the comments is so real

yukitsunoda: [max is a big softie!]

⤷ reinamatsumoto: [I KNOW !!!]

taglist (thank you for your support!!)

@vellicora @justsomejess @struggling-with-delia

#f1 fanfic #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fanfiction #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fic #formula one fic #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #max verstappen angst #f1 fanfiction

157 notes · View notes

reinekes-fox · 1 year ago

Text

Interactive WIPs w Demo

FAQ

Grey Swan I - Birds of a Rose

The Divine Flock. Some call them crazy, some even dangerous. Some even say the cult is hiding dark secrets. But, in all your life you have yet to find one. After all you should know should there be any dark secrets: you are a member after all! A member, not only of the Divine Flock, but also of the Avis Academy, the best school the cult has. Your life is quiet and follows a strict routine, at least until two Strays from the outside, the normal, world are allowed in the normally so closed off grounds and as a newly appointed Wing it is your job to keep an eye on one of them. With their arrival some of those dark secrets may finally come to light…

You ARE not playing as a BIRD!!!

New demo https://dashingdon.com/play/wolv/grey-swan---birds-of-a-rose/mygame/

Old demo https://dashingdon.com/go/13119

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Dark Academia.

Moniker for MC: Wing MC.

Genderselectable MC: cis male or female, trans male or female. However due to growing up in a cult, MC wont know that trans is a thing/what it means, this is something MC can learn about. The same goes for sexual orientation: play as gay, bi, straight, aroace or ace, but be prepared for consequences.

Pick your level of devotion: be a devout follower of the teachings of the Divine Flock, reject it partly or wholly, or simply not care. All of it will have consequences.

Choose one of various school clubs, your volery, and get an unique storyline. Ranging from dance to school security, to managing your social media page.

Important people: Your flock, a group of younger pupils you were responsible for before the Strays arrived. You may not be their Wing on paper anymore, but you still hold a special place in their heart! They do miss you and are looking forward giving you a present on your birthday!

Your volery: whichever volery you joined, you are going to met pupils that are just as enthusiastic about your chosen interest as you are! Some more than others.

Your parents. It’s another question if the relationship between you is good, but important it surely is!

ROs: Fuchsia King

Chase Watson

Wing Droznik Juschka

Astor Rapace

-only for Owls: Wing Astoria Rapace

-only for Peacocks: Marter

-only for Swans: Elrond/Estelle Falkenflug

-Vampire route: Sebastian Voss

-AMAB Raven RO: Marcel Rabenschlag

-Heron RO: Amelia Fern

Grey Swan II - Hawks and Doves

Unless otherwise stated you are playing as a normal human! Two legs, two arms, internal organs, hopefully a brain too. We will see how much of this organ stays intact after state propaganda, will we?

Someone once said that you were the most happiest youth in the world after the Great Heartbeat, that had shattered the old world. Earlier you would have agreed in a heartbeat, wearing the light green uniform of your state youth organisation. But now? When war has come to Avistrions shores and news reels show only destruction ?

Choose your gender, way of thinking and stance while growing up in a religious dictatorship on the giant island Avistrion. Be a devout follower of the Divine Flock, the only thing that survived the earthquake that devastated the earth. Or be the Vulture, trying to rip it to shreds, while wearing the badge of youth leadership… where will you be when war strikes your so closed off country? Which side will you be on when it ends? Will you even survive long enough to see the outcome?

Moniker for MC: Fugol MC.

ROs

Agon Falkenflug Adler/Weihe Habichtklau

Johanna/Nikola Arra

Grey Swan III - Wisteria Birds

Wisteria Birds (fantasy, drama, angst)! Currently on pause.

You are beautiful, trained in art and music. You are deadly, trained in the unique weapons that no one except you can use. You are dying. Kept alive by the very same thing that keeps you save from others abusing their power over you… You have no rights. But you can do whatever you want, even kill, without having to fear any consequences. You are the most pleasant death that anyone can wish for. You are an artwork. And all you are supposed to be is look pretty, show of your owners wealth. But oh, you could become so much more…

You play as a highly specialised trained entertainer… an Artwork, expensive companion to the rich and noble ones in Aklant, a country with rigid rules and unspoken laws, strict class divide and obsessed with anything that shows how rich they are… or at least let them appear rich. Artworks themselves are outside of this all, freed from all those social chains, but not seen as human… maybe its time to change that? Or leave the status quo as it is, up to you!

Moniker for MC: Artwork MC.

ROs:

Fauconniers, your potential buyers:

Chevalier Armand Sanson Alexandre Desrosier Others, you may work together with one or more of them? “Mouette” Sanglant du Verdier

You have been a Hound, the human companion of a vampire, for years.

Until you find yourself among the undead and masterless after a night where everything went wrong… leaving you with no other choice but to move back in with your parents.

ROs (will expand)

Theo Grimm

Agent Rosa Caleb

Marian Viorel

Citadel of dancing birds

Ghibli inspired! Mainly Howls moving castle.

You play someone from our world who ends up in another world! Since this is an aspect I greatly enjoyed in the book and was really sad they didnt include in the movie, there will be chances of jumping between the worlds (and of course becoming a magician too!).

ROs, some are locked into specific magic combinations:

Opera Job and changing into Animals: Santu Cajarin

Changing into Animals: Rosalind Eagledancer

In planning:

-Grey Swan VI - Fallen Dove

-Grey Swan - Birds of a broken mirror

Sth with magicians

Pet projects:

-Unwind Dystology IF

-sth inspired by my fav dojinshi series from like a decade ago

-sth inspired by stranger things and stephen king

#interactive fiction #birds of a rose #wisteria birds #if #cyoa #urban fantasy #dark academia #vögel der rose #low fantasy #hundsnächte #dog nights #citadel of dancing birds

559 notes · View notes

animelovelover123 · 7 months ago

Text

V's Yandere Alphabet v2.0

Synopsis: An updated and improved version of my original with more content. For those who have read the original, the big changes can be seen in entries L, P, Q, V, X, and Y.

Author's Note: I wrote the original during a troubling time and it resulted in the project taking 6 months and me hatting it by the end. However, after being encouraged by someone asking me if I would write for the other guys and my completionist side being bugged by how the original alphabet was not complete, I went back in and felt more motivated. I actually kind of want to write for the other guys now! Still no promises though.

The yandere alphabet I am using is an edited version of one made by no gender bee on tumblr. I added missing letters, changed some of the letters/descriptions, and altered some of the grammar (like using Canadian spelling).

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction for personal entertainment. If you are reading this, please understand that drawing/writing/reading/imagining things of this nature does NOT equate to desiring or supporting real-world assault.

Abuse = Could they ever hurt you physically or mentally? What would be the reason?

Physically? No. Mentally, kind of. He would not do it with the intent of causing harm, but some of V’s mental manipulation can hurt. He’ll pull at your heartstrings, saddle you with guilt, and talk in circles to get you to comply with his wishes all while using flowery language to mask the manipulative web he is weaving.

A big one, and the most common form of mental strain he gives you, is when he is desperate for attention and at the end of his rope. He will plead for it, reminding you that neither of you knows how long he has left to live and that he only wants to spend it with you. He does this to show you how much you mean to him, but he is also aware that he is inciting guilt in you. He does not realize how deeply and long it can affect you though until you tell/show him.

Both = You are a Yandere too, what’s their reaction?

V is intrigued and finds it amusing at first. His obsessive tendencies take longer to form, and he also does not believe he will live long so he sees your invasive and manipulative actions as entertaining with no fear of long-term repercussions. Even if you think you are being sneaky, he sees everything you are doing and he enjoys watching your reactions as he either plays along with your schemes or effortlessly evades them.

But once he finds himself falling for you in return, he gets rather depressed. He sees how desperately you want him, yet he knows, no matter how much he wants you as well, that all of your attempts to show your love will be in vain. He’ll try to pull away from you, but the more you chase, the more he wants you.

Then he finds out a way to live longer and his restraints are finally broken. You and he revel in your shared obsession, happily lavishing each other with love and attention. He sees your quirks and views them as romantic gestures. He finds out you have been stealing his things? How it warms his heart to know you want him close at all times even when home alone. Why don’t we move in together darling to save you the trouble? You’ve cancelled his plans with others behind his back? Well, why didn’t you tell him you wanted a night alone? He would love nothing more. You’ve killed a supposed love rival? Snuffing out another's life just because they threatened to take his love, though not necessary as you already have his heart, is such a beautiful display of adoration that he just has to give you a reward~

Crazy = How easy do they enter crazy mode? How do they act when they are in it?

It takes a lot for this man to snap. He is the essence of calm and collected, able to keep his composure in circumstances where most would panic and/or become angry. You could rage at him before walking out the door claiming you will never return, and though he will put up a bit of a fight, he knows deep down that you are just lashing out. After you have time to calm down you will be back in his arms soon enough. Whether by your own means or his, that was yet to be seen. This man could be in the middle of getting arrested and he would comply because he knows that this is not the end. He could easily escape prison and find his way back to you. The only true end is death, and that is what will cause him to snap.

Not his own death per se as that mental break will be directed and contained to himself. If his plan for extended life starts failing, he will fight tooth and nail to survive while rushing through the stages of grief. The most this will affect you is that he will disappear for a while as he tries to find a solution before returning when he realizes there is no hope for him and begs you to stay with him until his last breath.

The true snapping point would be a result of your life almost being lost, particularly if you try to take your own. Knowing or, worse, catching you trying to end your life flips a switch in him. He already had a lot of stress from trying to preserve his own life, but when he realizes that he could lose the primary reason he fought so hard to live all of that effort, panic, and stress gets funneled into caring for you. Now that he perceives a proverbial ticking clock for both of your lives, he will no longer allow a single second to go by without you. He will lock you up in his home and become your caretaker, tying you up so you can’t hurt yourself and taking care of all of your needs himself like feeding you and bathing you. You are his everything, and he will not let a second of both of your possibly short lives not be spent together. (see Kidnapped)

Difference = When can you notice a difference in behaviour in them? What are the first signs that their love for you is unhealthy?

At first V’s yandere tendencies were subdued and easily hidden. For the first couple months of knowing you he was under the belief that he was not long for this world. His body was actively deteriorating and soon he would have to return to Vergil.

But then he found a way that he could continue living as his own person. Maybe through killing and absorbing Urizen’s life force rather than merging with it or by somehow stealing it from others. Either way, there was a chance for him to survive and pursue a relationship with you. That is when he changed and that is when you start noticing his obsession with you.

He won't totally indulge in his attraction to you until he has proof that this lead is viable, but he will suddenly become more affectionate. Where he once kept any compliments and flirtatious remarks shrouded in flowery language so that you could not quite tell if he meant it that way became more direct and regular. The few feet he always put between you two was shorted as much as you would allow.

When he does gain evidence that his plan for a longer life is working, all restraints are off. He immediately goes to you and confesses his love. He may even tell you right then his true origins, why they resulted in him being distant at first, and how now that he has a long life ahead of him he is excited to spend it with you.

Enjoy = Do they enjoy what they’re doing to you, your life and the people around you? Do they show it?

V does worry about how some of his actions affect you. He is a bit of a philosopher type, often getting lost in thoughts or conversations about the deeper meanings and effects things have on people and the world as a whole. He is also introspective so he will occasionally worry himself over what he is doing. This line of thought doesn’t only trigger when you show hints of discomfort or hesitation. You could be perfectly happy, but he is privy to the manipulation and trickery of his that you are falling for. He considers and speculates on how his actions could warp your mind in the long run. And when he pictures the worst-case scenario, he might just guilt himself into admitting to, and apologizing for, a recent misconception he gave you.

He did not say those things with malicious intent, he just wanted to protect you from the cruel world and keep you loving him.

Force = What, if any, kinds of things will they force on you? Isolating from friends and family? Going on dates? Physical affection and/or sexual acts?

If you are a demon, to any extent, V will force you into a contract with him, assuming he is unsuccessful in his initial attempt at convincing you to join willingly. Depending on your battle prowess he will even call you to (relatively easy) fights along with his other familiars. Seeing you in battle is just as beautiful as seeing you dance to him so he will gladly do it as long as the risk of permanent harm is practically nonexistent. No matter how skilled you are in combat though, your primary duty as one of his demons is as a companion. With you being bound to him he can call you to him whenever he wishes to be with you, which is most of the time. He’ll try to offer you space and as much free will as he can, but the more obsessed he becomes the more he will abuse this power over you. One thing to note though is that he will not force you into romantic or sexual acts, even if he technically could through your contract. No matter how much he desired you, he would never hurt you in that way.

Alternatively, say you were a human. He would force you, again assuming you don’t fall for his flowery words, to take on a demon familiar. Not just any demon though. Specifically, he wants you to bond with one of his familiars. If you want more than that that is your prerogative, the more safety you have and empowerment you feel is only a boon, but being partially bonded to one of his familiars is his requirement. He tells you that he wants to keep you safe by giving you access to one, or more, of his demons for protection, and this is true. Though V is their primary master, V will willingly put himself at a disadvantage in battle by allowing you to call one of his familiars for protection. And if you don’t call them V will send them to you. He also advertises the practical benefits of having creatures at your beck and call. One aspect that he does not fully disclose though is how being bonded to a demon under his command also acts as a tracking device for when you try to run. (See Hide)

Gross = What is something they think is really romantic/sweet but is actually horrifying?

He writes letters and notes to you using his blood as ink. Sometimes it is just his signature coloured burgundy, and other times you find whole notes or poems scrawled in thin, inconsistently faded cursive which he delivers to your home or work with a bandaged arm.

He already puts his heart and soul into these letters. To him, offering part of his body with them shows you his complete devotion.

Hide = How easy is it to hide from them?

Depends on if he has bound you to one of his familiars yet.

First, let's assume he hasn't. Then, honestly, it’s pretty easy as he is but one man with not a lot of connections. He can send out his familiars to scan the area for you, but they can not go too far from V. That is only if he works alone though because the few connections he does have are with people who hunt down living creatures as their profession. Sure, hunting a demon is not quite the same as hunting a person down and his friends will initially question why you would run off, but V just has to string together a tail of how you are being influenced by a denizen of hell and that they must find you before it is too late. Sure enough, he will convince the morally just crew of demon hunters to find his love and now half a dozen people are calling in favours and travelling the country looking for you. And when they do find you, even if you try to tell them that you ran away from V willingly, V’s story has already cemented itself in their brains so they will drag you back anyway. A caveat to this plan is that the crew will get more and more suspicious if you run away multiple times and V keeps asking them for their help.

One of the benefits of binding you to one of his demons is that he won't have to risk growing doubt within his friends. With you bound to one of his demons (see Force), no matter where in the world you run V can track your location by getting his familiar to appear around you, scan the area to gather information, and relay it to him. And when he is close enough, the familiar can just pin you down and call out like a siren so V can easily find you.

Improve = Will they be willing to recover from this psychotic state for their lover?

Working off of E for Enjoy, V can find the conviction to be better for you. The problem is that he does not really know how to be better. He has only existed as his own entity for a relatively short time and has no experience with having a healthy relationship. He has only ever had you and the, sometimes maddening, urges to be with you. But because of his overwhelming love for you and the fear that his actions risk harming you, he will work towards being better.

He has to look to healthier relationships, like Nero and Kyrie’s and what little memories of Sparda and Eva’s he retains from Vergil, to understand what they look like and how he himself is failing. And if he can’t make the headway he wishes, being unable to stop himself from telling you subtle lies and trying to monopolize your attention, he will talk to someone about his feelings and urges. He understands that he does not yet really understand how to be human and is not above asking for aid in learning, for his own well-being yes, but mostly for yours.

Justification = Why are they acting like this? When and how did it start?

Upon being created, V knew that he did not have long to live. Soon he would join with Urizen and become Vergil once more. When he first started to fall for you, he knew it would not last due to his minuscule lifespan so would not pursue a romantic relationship. He could not, however, stay away from you. You were like a work of art, so utterly perfect that it was a miracle you even existed in such a cold and cruel world. He tried to accept the brief moments of connection you shared as enough to have him return to Vergil without regrets, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

His body was failing though, crumbling away. Perhaps when he becomes whole again Vergil will be able to be with you. But that would not be the same for you or V, and he knew that.

And then, he found a way to continue living as his own person (See Difference). Now he had a chance to have a life with you. But always lurking in the back of his mind is the fear that this means of sustaining his body and life will fail. He does not know when he will disappear or how quickly it could take him. This is why he needs to always be with you. He doesn’t know how much time he has left and he wants to spend as much of it with you as he can. You understand, don’t you darling?

Kidnap = Are they willing to kidnap you? If so, how will they do it? For how long will they keep you and where?

He will kidnap you if you make the drastic decision to try to end your own life (see Crazy). He has given you the freedom to do what you want, far more than most yanderes would, despite the dangers in the world because he trusted you and himself to keep you safe. But now that even you are a danger to yourself, that shattered any trust V had.

When he finds out what you were trying to do, whether it be through catching you in the act or finding out in the aftermath of a failed attempt, he will bring you to his home. He will tell you, and anyone else privy to your attempt, that he wanted to give you a safe place where you can be monitored, rest, and offer an ear to which you can discuss your feelings and thoughts without judgment. And with him being your partner, if other people knew of your attempt, they would trust him to watch over you and stop you from trying this again. And that was exactly what he would do.

So you spend the night with V in his home where he refuses to leave your side for more than a minute at a time. It was understandable though, right? He was just shaken from what you tried to do. But when you woke up you found your wrists belted together, as were your ankles, and were chained to the bed’s headboard and one of the bed’s end legs respectively.

“My love, you are awake.” V greets as he enters the room, a bowl of oatmeal in his hand. “How wonderful it is to see your beautiful eyes finally open.” You can ask him what is going on, but no matter if you question him in fear, anger, or confusion, he will smile sympathetically as he helps you sit up. “I know this may be a bit frightening my dear, but this is all for your safety. You have somehow come to the heartbreaking and erroneous belief that you should not live and have become a danger to yourself because of it. But worry not, for I love you unconditionally and will care for you in your stead. Now, open up~” He coos as he holds out a spoonful of oatmeal.

V keeps you bound for as long as it takes for him to trust you not to attack him. Still, whenever he leaves the house he chains you to the bed to make sure you don’t try anything. Soon enough he stops going out, instead spending every waking moment coddling you. He feeds you by hand, dresses you, bathes you, and loves you through any bout of emotions, be they positive or negative. You don’t get to step foot outside until after you are knocked out by drugs and discreetly transferred to a new home out in some forest. Once there he will be willing to take you on walks, if you can prove you can behave. Even if you do try to escape though, the forest is enchanted so any human without a demon guide will be lost to endlessly loop through the same areas.

After years of living like this and proving that you don’t intend to leave him or harm yourself, you may just be lucky enough to find out how V was able to keep you locked up and disappear without anyone coming to look for you. You see, your friends and family were devastated when they heard from V that you had killed yourself by running off into a demon nest and letting yourself be eaten. And then it was unfortunate but unsurprising when V, now without the love of his life, spiraled into depression, became a recluse, moved away from the city where he and his love spent their time together, and soon after joined you in the afterlife.

“What a tragic tale, isn’t it dear?” He asks you with a proud smile on his face as he feeds you your lunch.

Lonely = They are feeling lonely but you are busy with something else, what will they do?

V is a patient man. If you are busy with an activity or responsibility, he will wait patiently for you to finish. He has his limits though (See Non-Stop). Also, depending on how urgently the task must be done or the rules regarding it, V would like to get involved.

“What are you doing my songbird? Watching something? May I join you?” “What is that craft you are making? How fascinating… Would you do me the honour of teaching me how to do it?” “What are you so furiously researching love? I would so dearly like to hear all about it, and perhaps I can help you search.”

V wants to learn everything he can about you and be involved with your interests and hobbies. And even if you are doing something that he can not assist in, such as writing a paper for school or work, then he will still insert himself by delivering to you snacks, drinks, messages, or simply his silky voice reading out his poetry to calm you and act as white noise while you focus. As long as it does not harm you or put you in danger, then V wants to support you and uplift you in any way he can.

Moving On = If you die or escape, will they be able to move on? How easy will it be for them?

You are his light, his world, and the number one reason that he fought to stay alive. If you were to leave him, he would be devastated. With you gone so is his will to live, and so he will follow you into the beyond. However, one deciding factor for how he will come to his end is how you met yours. If it was some unforeseen tragedy then he would chase after you into the next world immediately. But if your death was in any way his doing, he would drag out his death. Whether it be through starvation or letting his body deteriorate, whichever was more painful and a fitter punishment for the sins he has committed.

Alternatively, if you were to escape and he could not find you, his will would slowly drain. He would spend more time and energy looking for you and despairing over not being able to find you, he would neglect what he needs to do to stay alive. Slowly his failing body would wither away or, if the option is still available, he may just make a last-ditch effort to become whole again. He knows that death would be an easier option than reforming, but his lingering feelings may unconsciously drive Vergil to keep looking for you and you wouldn’t hide from Vergil, right? Knowing you were at least alive would give V’s broken heart and soul some levity while it rotted away somewhere inside Vergil.

Non-Stop = How clingy will they be when you’re in a relationship? How possessive are they? And how much free space do they give you?

V will give you a great deal more space than most yandere’s. He is fine with you spending time with others, whether he is present or not. He will even allow you to go on multiple-day-long trips, like road trips or vacations, with others. Seeing you happy and hearing you excitedly recount your outings was a joy in it of itself for him. Hearing you talk with exuberance and seeing your radiant smile as you describe the event you attended, the activity you did, and the conversations you had was just enough to make missing you worth it. It also helps that he is an introvert so is more than okay with spending some time for himself.

There is a limit to this though. If you have a job or attend school then he can get by with having you in the morning and evening. He will encourage you and praise you for your hard work before and after each day while enjoying having you all to himself. But if, on top of this, you are going out with friends two or three days a week then he’ll get antsy. He won’t get in the way, but he will get a bit needy and clingy, doing things like wanting to walk you to and from places just to spend more time with you and inviting you on more dates and activities to offset how much you go out with others.

But if others try to take up more of your time than that, V will become a lot more proactive. Suddenly you start ‘forgetting’ your phone in the other room all the time, meaning you miss calls and texts. Your calendar and alarms start messing up more, giving you incorrect times and dates causing you to miss events. V seemingly becomes more worried about your well-being. Do you have a bit of a cough? Feeling warmer than usual? A bit of a headache? Well, then it is best if you stay home. Even if it seems small now, exserting yourself by going out could just make things worse. Besides, the weather report said it might rain. So just rest at home today, V will be there to care for you.

Other = Someone else speaks to or flirts with you, how will they react?

V is usually very confident and trusting of you to not betray him so does not mind when others speak to you. He doesn’t blame the person either because you are a truly fascinating person that V can’t get enough of, so others wanting to get to know you is only logical. Other’s flirting with you is usually a similar story, as he trusted you implicitly. But that does not mean he is always complicit. If you or the person give him a reason to worry, such as you seemingly reciprocating that flirtation or the person overstepping boundaries, then V will act.

It won’t be a full-on assault, physically or verbally, it will be a subtle, insidious poison that he seeps into the bothersome person. Through his words he will gracefully belittle and insult the person while showcasing his superior knowledge and sharp wit. Most of his comments don’t even immodestly register as insults, instead, they will weigh the person down bit by bit until their confidence is but dust in the wind and they realize that they have no chance in besting V in his control over your heart.

Persistent = You have rejected/ignored their first attempts at gaining your attention. How many more times will they try and how quickly will their actions ramp up in intensity?

Before discovering a means of sustaining himself, he will see your rejection or obliviousness to his signs of affection as signs and reminders to not pursue you as it will only end in heartbreak. However, if, after proving to himself that he can indeed survive his once-set expiration date and he confesses to you (See Difference), you somehow misunderstand his confession, perhaps as some kind of bout of manic joy from being able to extend his life, then he will take time to calm down so you know he is being serious and tell you honestly and blatantly. He has already waited for so long, suppressing the calling of his heart and soul, and he will not waste another moment of his life not cherishing and worshiping you as you so deserve.

Questioned = How do they react if someone catches on to their odd behaviour and questions them?

V is calm, composed, levelheaded, and a master at manipulation and the ways of the English language. If someone starts questioning his actions then he can easily lead, twist, loop, and end the conversation like a conductor to an orchestra with the other speaker left satisfied and a bit confused on the topic and point of the conversation.

Risk = How risky will they be with getting rid of rivals?

V has no intention of killing anyone. He loves you and, though you may not see it now, he knows you love him too. But if he really feels the need to dispose of someone, he has to be careful. Not so much because he fears the police or the friends and family of the victim. They could easily be tricked and manipulated into cooperating. It was his own family and friends that posed a problem. Dante, Nero, Kyrie, they would never understand. They don’t understand how deep his love is for you. If they found out he killed someone to protect his relationship with you, they would try to intervene or, worst of all, try to get you away from him. V can’t risk that.

So he carefully plans out his assassination. He can’t use his familiars because there is a chance that as soon as the police/family realize the murder was done by a demon they may call Lady or Dante’s businesses for help and they can spot Griffon, Shadow, and Nightmare’s work easily. And a physical altercation, even with the aid of weapons, would cause too much of a scene. So instead, V will kill with discreet methods, such as poison, or a disposable method, such as forming a contract with a demon, sending them out on their elimination mission, and then killing the new demon familiar so it could not be traced back to V.

Sweet = Even when they’re Yandere they can be sweet. What’s their sweet Yandere side?

You are his world, his everything, and he will tell you that often. Every day he tells you and shows you how much he appreciates you and all you do, for him and others. Being able to wake up beside you, spend time with you, and hold you at night is a blessing that he will always cherish, no matter how long you are together.

Type = What type of Yandere are they?

Going off of the Yandere Fandom Wiki’s list, V would mostly be a Manipulative Yandere (Focuses on working a series of situations to prevent losing their love.) with a bit of a Submissive Yandere (Only in love with one specific person and will carry out any task asked of them.).

V has a way with words and with his ability to stay calm and collected no matter the intricate lies he is weaving, he will subtly manipulate you into things like spending more time with him and fending off anyone who seriously threatens your relationship (See Other). He won’t just have you wrapped around his finger, as he will also make others question themselves or change their mind through his poetic, complex, cryptic wording. This can range from telling your family and friends that they should not make you go to some even, claiming things like how tired and stressed you are when in reality he just wants more time alone with you, to even beneficial things like convincing your teachers or boss to treat you better because you are such an amazing student/worker.

There is also little he wouldn’t do for you. He will of course do small things if you ask like taking you to and from appointments no matter the ungodly hour it is happening and taking you on dates to all the places you are interested in. But he will do so much more if only you ask it of him. For example, if you come to him for help, telling him about some person or group that is hurting you somehow, either directly or through association, and ask him to get rid of them, he will.

Unsure = How much trust do they have in you? What happens if you break it?

V trusts you a great deal, more than most yandere. Even when you make small mistakes he will quickly forgive you and assure you that he understands that you are doing your best and don’t truly mean any harm. If you do something drastic though, that is different. There is what will happen if you try to hurt yourself (See Kidnapping), but if you do something like cheat on him he will be devastated. He will blame himself for the most part, assuming he has failed to provide you with the love and affection you desire and is determined to be better. He will follow you without being too pushy, not quite a stalker but he will reappear in your life every couple of weeks to try to win your heart back. And between each meeting, he would work on improving himself in any way he thinks he is failing you, from physical to social to financial. At times he may even consider leaving you be, letting you go free, but he can’t help but be drawn to you. In the end, he would rather give up on life rather than give up on you.

Vexation = What is the one thing that you could do to piss them off or worry them the most?

V does not really get angry, being levelheaded enough to stay calm and give you and himself some space if he is getting frustrated. As for worrying him, the thing that will unsettle and worry him the most is if you suddenly, without plausible reason, start claiming that you love him and saying overly sweet things. If you were to say ‘I love you’ without complete sincerity he would see it as the complete opposite. You must be upset and/or unhappy in some way. Though he does not want to pry, if you keep forcing words of affection out it will eat away at him until he pleads for you to stop and instead tell him what it is that is driving you to hurt him like this.

Welcome = Let’s say they’re Yandere for you but you’ve not had your first meeting. How do they initiate it?

If you two have not officially met but you have caught V’s eye, he will avoid approaching you due to the belief that he will return to Vergil soon. He does not wish to hurt you by charming you and then disappearing, though that does have a romantic air to it. So perhaps he will allow himself to be seen once or twice if the situation requires. For example, if you are attacked by demons he will jump in to save you, maybe take a moment to let his mysterious and alluring aura seep in before disappearing like a masked hero, never truly known but leaving a sense of mysticism. At least this way, when the being known as V does disappear from this world, he will live on in you to a small extent.

If/when he knows that he can prolong his life, he will search for you right away. He’ll want to keep up his dark, mysterious, romantic aura as much as possible to make a good impression. This includes not giving you all the answers right away, slipping into the shadows and reappearing for the first few meets, and not letting you meet the blabbermouth Griffon or the horrific Nightmare, at least not at first. Shadow you may meet because he trusts her to not ruin the moment and may even add to his allure as he has a powerful jungle cat at his whim.

He has read countless poems and stories of romance, and he will use that to his advantage to make your introduction to him as perfect as possible.

Xeric = What is an innocuous thing you do that hits a nerve in their twisted mind and really turns them on?

Whether it is done casually during a time when you are relaxing and holding each other or if he is in the middle of something and your wandering mind leads you to do it, having you lightly trace the patterns of his tattoos sets his body and heart on fire faster then he is able to ask you why you are doing it. Having your fingers delicately glide along his skin has him twisting, arching, and bending into your touch, trembling slightly as soft gasps that sometimes sound more like moans, slip from his lips.

Yearning = They want you but you are already with someone else. How will they win you over/steal you from your current partner?

V will not even try. He is already hesitant to get close to you with his mission of becoming Vergil again. You being in a happy relationship with another offers him a melancholy peace as he knows that once he is gone you will be taken care of. In this circumstance, he will not even bother looking for a way to extend his life and simply complete the task he was created to do.

Zealot = If everything fails, will they be able to kill their partner? For the most part, no. Even if you fight, run, reject, and abandon him over and over he will never be pushed to kill you. The only circumstance in which he would take your life is if you have been irreparably damaged, physically or mentally. If, because of a demon attack, the cruelty of the world infecting you with an incurable disease, or you have lost your mind, if your life is nothing but suffering, he will mercy kill you. And he would follow you soon after, to be able to hold you in the afterlife and watch you be free of this pain.

#devil may cry imagine #devil may cry x reader #v x reader #devil may cry #yandere v #v dmc #v devil may cry #yandere v dmc #yandere #yandere male #soft yandere #male yandere #yandere devil may cry #dmc v x reader

57 notes · View notes