#i’m kidding i’m actually looking forward to reading a world without you

[chevroletdean]

mirror sex [dean winchester] ── ✮⋆˙

kinktober 2024

ship: dean x afab!fem!reader genre: smut, angst to note/warnings: explicit – minors dni, established relationship, hunt almost gone wrong, canon-level violence, patching/stitching up wounds, dean’s self loathing tendencies, hurt/comfort, little bit of praise kink, fingering, porn with plot word count: 3.6k a/n: three days until halloween and i feel like i’m way behind on kinktober. i might just try to get to some of these during november as well, my apologies. also, the cat’s out of the bag: i’m a sucker for angst. i’m curious what you guys enjoy to read/write the most, are you more into fluff, smut, or angst?

Dean’s harsh on himself. Always. You knew that even before you started dating him. It’s how he grew up, after all. From a young age it’s been drilled into him by John; that he has to be tough and strong, that he isn’t allowed to think before he acts, that certain things have to be done – even when these things are ugly. Even when they turn other things ugly. Things like the sight of his hands afterwards. Things like his whole reflection, honestly.

It’s days like these where he enters autopilot, in a poor attempt of resorting to a self-defense mechanism. He can’t stand the reflection in the mirror, so he simply doesn’t look. He wouldn’t like what he sees, so he avoids it altogether, if he can.

Saving people, hunting things, the family business – killing monsters always sounds so heroic until you realize your decisions are cut-and-dry to the cruelest degree, until the soap can only scrub clean the red from your hands but not the guilt that still sticks to your skin, and until you begin to wonder who the actual monster is.

Dean’s harsh on himself in that he blames himself for everything. It’s all his responsibility, the weight of the world always on his shoulders.

Hunts go wrong. It’s part of the job, but that thought isn’t as comforting as it should be, because it doesn’t change anything and it doesn’t take away any of the gravity.

Dean and you had been tracking down this pack of aggressive werewolves. The job had sounded so easy, everything had been so straight-forward. Until you two realized that the town’s sheriff was in on it, and ultimately, so was his son. Partially, at least. Just a kid, barely twenty-one – about the age when Sam hit the library, when he should’ve hit on cute girls on campus, around the age of frat parties with beer-pong cups and hangovers.

A guy who had his whole life ahead of him, but had it snuffed out by a silver bullet to his chest. (or rather, by Dean’s finger pulling that trigger, if you’d ask Dean how it went down, because he sees no point in distancing himself from the narrative when it was his doing). Not because that kid wanted any of it. Hell, as Dean and you had been investigating the case, you came to realize all that boy wanted was a peaceful life. And you knew it was possible, some werewolves were able to build up normalcy without killing anybody, picket-fence and all, more so than your average hunter, sometimes.

But you had shot the sheriff, given that he’d been systematically kidnapping his victims throughout the years. And upon witnessing the silver piercing through his father’s chest, the student went downright feral. He attacked you and jumping you, going for a bite that never landed, was the last thing he ever did.

“You had to shoot him,” you told Dean in the car, just like he predicted you would.

“I know,” came Dean’s reply and those were the only words during the whole ride, just like you predicted they’d be.

Even upon arrival back at the bunker, he remains silent. The loudest noises are just his footsteps, which are heavier than usual as he drags you to your shared room, and ultimately the slam of the bathroom door that he shuts behind the two of you.

“Sit,” he says, voice laced with anger that you know he only directs at himself, and nudges you to the edge of the bathtub. You know better than to argue with him and despite the fact that there’s a nasty gash on his shoulder, you let him clean the minor scratch above your eyebrow first. You must’ve hit your head back when the werewolf slammed you against a shelf, but you’ve definitely had worse. But Dean puts others before himself and your wellbeing is always his priority.

Yet, his ministrations aren’t exactly gentle. He dabs the rubbing alcohol to your cut brow without any regard for the way you wince slightly. His eyes don’t meet yours as he shoves his hand into the cupboard and impatiently fishes for bandages. His jaw is clenched tightly as he patches you up with a bandaid.

He’s in his own head, clearly – or trying to keep those spiraling thoughts at bay within his self-critical mind. Those what ifs and should’ve dones would kill him otherwise.

You can only watch as he straightens his back, turns around, takes a step towards the sink opposite to the bathtub, slams the cabinet shut again, and keeps his gaze purposefully low. His eyes remain glued to his hands as he washes them, as if he doesn’t dare to lift his chin.

“Let me help you with your shoulder,” you mumble softly and he almost can’t hear you over the running water and the running thoughts. It’s your gentle touch that makes him snap out of it, but even as he raises his head at last, his eyes only land on the reflection of you. Your face peeks out over his shoulder, one of your arms wrapped around his middle, the other hand ghosting over his blood-soaked sleeve.

“No need, ‘m fine,” he grumbles, stubborn as ever. But as he turns off the faucet, the movement reminds him of the sharp ache and the dull throb in his arm. Just the graze of the sheriff’s bullet. He knows he got lucky, but he also can’t bring himself to care about any of that with every other dreadful aspect of today.

“A couple of inches away from death doesn’t fit my definition of fine, Dean.”

He can’t argue with that, it would be hypocritical. A droplet of blood on your forehead is enough to make him worry and who is he to deny you your concerns when he’s been injured too? Besides, he knows you can see right through him. Physical injuries are one thing, but the emotional damage often runs deeper than any blade or gun could.

Though his muscles are stiff, Dean doesn’t resist as you slowly peel off his flannel. His eyes are still fixated on you. He can’t bring himself to look at the wound himself, much less let his gaze drift anywhere close to his own reflection right now.

Your movements are mesmerizing enough to keep him distracted anyway.

You reach around him to turn the faucet back on and you grab a washcloth. You tie your messy hair back and out of the way and you carefully roll up the short sleeve of his shirt. You dampen the cloth and wipe the blood from his arm. Once you disinfect the wound, he ultimately looks away. Not because of the sting of the rubbing alcohol, but because of the pain he recognizes in your eyes. Your brows knit together and you frown slightly, sighing to yourself.

He can’t bear watching you pity or fuss over him when part of him feels like he deserves this.

“C’mon, ’s not even that bad, sweetheart,” he grumbles, but his voice is strained.

Your movements come to a halt as you blink up at the mirror, expecting to see his green eyes look back at you through the reflection. But Dean’s head hangs low again and his hands grip onto the edge of the sink he’s staring into.

“I’m glad it’s not,” you hum, but you still grab ahold of his hands and pull him away from the sink. “Sit.”

When you say that word, it sounds a thousand times softer than when he did. You know he hadn’t huffed it at you earlier, but rather didn’t bother concealing his bad mood. Still, his annoyances aren’t directed at you, so he makes an effort to pull you closer gently, in apologetic fashion. His hands settle on your hips as he sits down on the edge of the tub. You’re standing between his legs, surgical thread and needle in your hand.

“Lift your arms f’me, babe?”

When Dean follows your instructions without a witty remark about how eager you are to get him to strip, you know the self loathing is bad. You help him peel off his shirt, tossing it straight into the laundry basket. Luckily there aren’t any other major injuries, though you suspect a couple of bruises will bloom by tomorrow.

His hands go back to your hips, as if he’s able to steady and ground himself by holding you, to which you have no complaints. As long as he’ll let you stitch him up, you even let his bolder touches slide. You’re so focused on closing up the wound that you barely react to his fingers curling around the back of your thighs.

With this position, Dean’s practically forced to face the mirror again. It’s right behind you and with the way you’re half bent over, leaning down to his arm, the view is without obstruction. But his attention is fixated on the jeans-cladded plush in his palms. His hands wander higher, fingers splaying out over your curves. He gives your ass a gentle squeeze to which your breath hitches.

“Careful, unless you want to end up looking like Frankenstein’s monster,” you chuckle playfully, relieved that he’s in high enough spirits for teasing touches.

“Since when are you not into the scarred badass guys?”

“Touché,” you smile in response, “Although I prefer them in a confident mood.”

He groans, knowing where this is going, but he decides to play along. “What d’ya mean?”

Your smile curls into a smug grin as you shrug. “I mean,” you sigh and finish the last stitch, securing the thread into a knot and setting the needle aside. “Scarred, badass guys are even hotter when they know that they’re strong,” you continue, before you plant a kiss to his forehead, “that they’re brave…” Another kiss, to his nose this time.

A quiet growl escapes him as he instinctively tightens his grip on your ass. You know he doesn’t fully believe your words, but you’re adamant about convincing him, so you continue with your list: “…heroic.” More kisses, this time a chaste one directly to his lips, though Dean scoffs and pulls away almost immediately.

“Yeah, right,” he scowls. “Nothing screams hero more than murdering someone.”

“You saved me tonight,” you argue back, whilst gently cupping his face. “You’re definitely my hero.”

His gaze wanders from your lips up to your eyes, seeing nothing but gratitude and adoration in them. Both of which he feels undeserving of. Dean Winchester isn’t half the hero you think he is, he’s all kinds of screwed and his fucked up life consists of violence and regret most of the time. Yet you always look at him as if there’s something worth looking at. Even when he can’t see it himself.

“Just doing my job,” he replies and his voice feels thick and wrong on his own tongue.

“No,” you huff, your thumbs tracing the sharp edge of his jaw, the scruff grazing against the pads of your fingers. “It’s not your job to look after me, or to fight evil. But you’re damn good at it and you do it to make the world a better place. Just like you did today.”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow at your words, since he’s not exactly sure how shortening the lifespan of a young man can possibly add any plus points to his karma. But he understands where you’re coming from, even if he can’t accept it fully just yet. He doesn’t regret pulling the trigger either, he’d do it again – in a heartbeat – if it meant keeping you alive. In that regard, what he did was the right thing, but that didn’t mean it was an easy thing.

“You did what you had to do, babe,” you sigh, tilting his face up a little again before he could avert his gaze once more.

You’d tell him that he shouldn’t beat himself up over it, but that would be like talking to a wall. Your reasoning tends to reach him better than the loving reassurances, even though you both know you’re right. Maybe that boy didn’t deserve to die, werewolf or not, but in that moment it was either him or you.

Your lips land on him once more, this time on his jaw, before they wander down the hollow of his throat. Dean welcomes the sensation of your mouth on his neck, your teeth against his collarbones. Your hands on his chest, warm and soft and eager. So eager to make him feel good, to prove to him his own worth.

Your fingers are always enough to make his walls crumble. The sweet nothings you whisper to his ear always suffice. It might not heal him entirely, but his doubts are soothed for the moment whenever you need him. Whenever you give him what he needs. Whenever you love him.

Your hands reach the waistband of his denim pants, against which his cock is already beginning to strain. Once your touch ghosts over the prominent bulge, he snaps and indulges. In one swift movement, he stands up, his hands still tight on your hips as he picks you up and carries you to the sink. Within a second you find yourself positioned on the bathroom counter, your back nearly bumping against the mirror behind you and your legs draped around Dean’s waist. You’d complain about how he should be careful, lest he wants the fresh stitches to rip open, but your protest dies on Dean’s tongue, which he has already slipped past your lips.

Dean kisses you hard and with purpose, as if wanting to repay your praises. Where your mouth works its magic through words, he has always known different ways to use his. Always a man of actions, your boyfriend. His lips wander down your neck, making you gasp in delight.

He grunts, dizzy with the taste of you, your scent, your voice. You’re so soft under his calloused hands that he’s reminded once more of how close he was to losing you tonight. His impatient hands pull your shirt up over your chest, where his lips latch onto. He doesn’t even bother pulling it over your head fully, eager to search your heartbeat with his tongue, as if he’s able to taste that you’re still alive that way.

While you’re busy discarding your shirt properly, Dean’s mouth finds your nipple through the lace of your bra. You arch your back into his touch further, his name falling from your lips in a whimper that almost has his brain short-circuit.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he gruffs and pulls you off the counter, turning you in his arms so you’d face the mirror. His low voice is gravelly and half muffled by the column of your neck, which he still works some hickeys into. “Always treating me like some kind of hero when you’re the one keeping me alive and sane.”

His bare chest is pressed flush against your back and your hips are lodged against the edge of the sink, to which your shaky fingers grip so tightly that your knuckles turn white. You whimper again, softly, as you feel him rock his hips against your ass. Were it not for his large hands around you, one on your waist, the other cupping your breast, your knees would give out and you’d topple over.

Dean shoves a little harsher, his chest still flat against your back as he pushes you closer to the mirror. It’s fogging up slightly with how heavily you’re panting against the glass. Your eyes meet through the reflection and he finds himself not minding the mirror so long as you’re in the picture as well.

The bandaid that used to roughly match your skin color earlier now sticks out against your flushed face, red and warm all the way down to your neck and even your chest. Your lips are kiss-bitten, puffy and slightly parted as your ragged breath is interrupted by little mewls and whines.

Most days Dean’s looks in the mirror and hates what he sees. But he could get used to this view. At least he can appreciate the sight of his own hands on you, one around your throat, the other between your thighs, making you unravel, being held by yours as you reach for his wrists.

“Maybe scratch the sane part, you know you’re driving me crazy,” he revises his earlier statement as his deft fingers make quick work of your jean’s button and fly. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear and you shudder as he watches every small reaction of yours closely, like a hawk.

He shoves his hand straight into your underwear, satisfied when his fingers find your slick and his ears pick up on the meek moan. He’s barely even touched you yet, but you’re already soaking. You’re so damn responsive it almost makes him want to rip both your pants off and just take you until you’ll see stars. While patience is a virtue, it’s not Dean’s strong suit – yet he wants to take his time with you.

“Always taking such good care of me,” he whispers roughly, gently pinching your clit between his middle and ring finger. “My turn making my girl feel good.”

Using your previous methods on you now, he presses a soft kiss to your temple. His lips brush right against the edge of your bandaid. “My pretty girl,” he breathes, before his mouth wanders to your cheek, where he places another kiss.

“My smart girl, always using her pretty head to keep us alive.” God knows his words are true – your quick thinking and ability to stay level headed has saved the both of you out of dangerous situations more times than he can count.

One of his fingertips slips past your entrance, causing you to overhear whatever he adds to the list of compliments. You’re too distracted by the digit sinking deeper into your cunt with little resistance.

Your blush deepens further, fingers curling around the sink’s ceramic. Your eyelashes flutter and your eyes threaten to close, but Dean prevents your head from dropping low with a gentle nudge of his hand. His fingers tighten around your throat, firm enough to make you redirect your focus, but not enough to squeeze your windpipes, let alone hurt you in any way.

“Eyes on the mirror, doll,” he hums against your jaw. “Would be a shame if you were t’miss out on the show, huh? Look how pretty you are f’me, princess, all sensitive and needy.”

You squirm and whimper, struggling to follow his order with how he’s making your head spin. He’s not playing fair. How’re you supposed to focus on anything except him adding another finger to pump in and out of your cunt?

“Dean, please,” you moan, desperately trying to wiggle your hips. You aren’t even sure what it is you’re begging for, exactly. More of him. All of him. Not like you can’t already feel him throb against the curve of your ass.

“Wanna see you cum on my fingers first, baby,” he mumbles, nearly slurring over his own words. But the hand around your throat loosens its grip and he already moves it down to pull your pants lower. “Know you’re almost there, can feel you squeezing the shit out of my fingers.”

You half groan half sob, beyond flustered, but too far gone to argue back. Your legs are already shaking thanks to his fingers thrusting in and out of you and your breathing becomes more ragged with each intake of oxygen. You attempt to throw him a pleading glance through the mirror, but all you can see is your own messy state. Your gaze briefly flickers down, watching his thumb circle your clit in the reflection. However, your eyes are forced back up as Dean’s free hand winds up in your hair and pulls your head back until it’s settled against his uninjured shoulder.

“Eyes up here,” he quips and you’d want to wipe that smug smirk off his lips, were it not for his fingers curling inside of you and pushing you over the edge at last. Your mouth falls open and you cry out as liquid heat rushes through every fiber of your body. You see your own reflection, expression twisted into pleasure and bliss as your orgasm washes over you and you clamp down on Dean’s fingers. Your grip tightens around his wrist, which doesn’t stop him from guiding you through the ecstasy.

“So good for me,” Dean praises, or you think that’s what you hear in your hazy state. You’re still trying to catch your breath as he withdraws his hands from between your now sticky thighs. He brings it up to his mouth, giving his fingers a brief lick. You shudder in awe watching him. His pupils are blown wide, glistening tongue peeking out from those plump lips of his.

But he changes his mind at the last second.

“Not done with you yet, sweetheart,” he whispers and presses his fingers against your lips. You obediently open your mouth for him, welcoming his fingers in, though you flush more as you taste yourself on his skin.

Your walls flutter and clench around nothing just at that, but you have a feeling he’s about to do something about the empty feeling. He smirks knowingly, his cheek pressed against yours, your faces in the mirror side by side.

“Think I should show you how pretty you look taking my cock? I swear, it feels unfair that I’m always the only one who gets to enjoy the show.”

credit & links: ao3 ──〃★ dividers ──〃★ request here taglist: comment a green heart 💚 to be added to the dean x reader taglist (please note: ageless blogs will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts)

@winchester-whiskey @whormotional @spacecowgirl126 @zepskies @hot-and-confused

@spookyfunhottub @calibootsgirl

[teddypickerry]

A teen!dad jess. He has a best friend from New York (she can have a name or it can be Y/N, you can choose) (they are endgame, jess never had feelings for Rory but she has feelings for Jess, it won't go anywhere) Jess and his best friend have a kid, they co-parent (whether they are dating already or in the future is up to you) Jess gets sent to Stars Hallow, she ends up moving to stars Hallow to, to be close to Jess and so their kid can be with him too (she is emancipated, plus Jess knows she's coming because they keep in contact) if anyone reading this would like to turn this into an actual story, I'm totally down for reading it :) if you choose this request, I look forward to reading it. Thank you!!

↯ 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐈 𝐆𝐎 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎?

pairings — teen dad! jess mariano x y/n

warnings — none!! (unedited tho so…)

word count — 2.9k

a/n — i’m not the biggest fan of how this turned out (feels lowk out of character even tho i typically write jess best bc i am him), but i LOVEDDDD this plot. i plan on making a part two if that’s something you guys would want!! also dad! jess is my fav (as you guys know) so to have him be bowie’s dad??? FUCKING LOVEEE.

BEING SENT TO STARS HOLLOW was worse than one would imagine. especially for jess mariano, a kid who'd been taken from his hometown and placed in a small apartment above a diner with an uncle he hardly knows. this would be enough to drive one mad, one could presume. but to make matters worse, he was leaving behind his son.

the moment liz danes found out her sixteen year old son had gotten a girl pregnant, she freaked out. as any mother would do. but liz wasn't just any mother, she was (to put it lightly) a whack-job. so she spiraled when she figured this one out. what happened when liz danes spiraled you may ask? who was there for her? her sane big brother, luke.

the practical idea seemed to be sending jess to the quaint down of stars hollow. a place where liz grew up, where she knew luke would keep an eye on him. where she also knew he couldn't cause any havoc. and his world wouldn't become corrupt like hers, being a teen parent.

the months of the pregnancy was difficult to be away. y/n was just a girl he'd met at a party, he was sick and tired of his mother's new boyfriend's hurtful words. y/n was going through something similar and they decided they'd lean on one another one night. until three weeks later when she called jess asking him to coffee, and surprising him with something much more. y/n was scared, as any pregnant sixteen year old would be. being without jess didn't help her case.

the teenage boy didn't let the separation get to them however. his nights sneaking out were spent at a phone booth in the middle of town, talking to y/n about everything and anything. his breaks at the diner were calling to ask about doctors appointments. sure, she had just been a girl he'd met at a party. but the emotional bond of a baby knitted the two together. they were scared kids, they had no one but one another. so they became much more than kids who once went to a party. they were friends.

when y/n went into labor, jess ran out of school like his life depended on it. hoping into his car and speeding back to new york. luckily making it so he could see his son born just in time. his first time meeting his son was only his fourth time seeing y/n. the fourth of many, many visits. stars hollow became less and less entertaining to him as time went on. especially after coming back almost two weeks after his son was born. the pranks, the stealing, the teasing around with this girl rory... it wasn't anything to him. he missed his son, he missed the woman who had his son. jess mariano wanted to be with his family. because for the first time in his life, he had a family. someone loved him, and he loved someone.

"1984 is the most overrated 'classic' book i've ever read," rory gilmore smiled at jess with a teasing look. now, almost a year after his son's birth, jess mariano was nearing eighteen. his adolescence was coming to an end (although it did when the stick turned pink). the toying around was still very much in his nature. hence the conversation with the good girl in a pink sweater.

"nu uh, it's a classic. you can't just hate on 1984," jess counters while standing behind the diner's countertop. the diner was slow, despite it being around the early afternoon and a sunday. which is why two teenagers were sharing false opinions like it was bible. he didn't like her — he was sure of that. ever since bowie mariano was born (guess who named him), jess's feelings had become aware. the love he felt for his son was prominent in his everyday life. unlike anything he'd ever felt before. it was hard for him to even imagine ever having feelings for someone. not when being a dad was his number one priority.

"you're just saying that," rory laughed at his words once more. her late night talks with her mother about jess seeming to not be recalled. the ones where lorelai stressed to rory what jess was going through as a teen parent, something she knew all too well. especially being away from his kid. in her eyes, he was a christopher who'd left his rory. lorelai didn't exactly want her daughter involved with that. but it was hard to resist when he kept giving rory that james dean look. matched with the leather jacket and the book references.

"when are you going to see bowie?" lorelai asked the teenage boy, attempting to remind her daughter of his priorities. jess didn't see this as a question with ulterior motives. he knew lorelai had a deep understanding of him, whether she'd like to admit it or not. "soon, hopefully."

"is y/n liking her new place?" luke questions genuinely from lorelai's side, being reminded of jess's child's mother who he'd grown fond of. "it's kinda hard to like a place where you're crashing on your friend's sofa bed." jess scoffs, being reminded of his friend's condition. when y/n had first gotten pregnant, jess was aware of the darkness in her home. especially when she freaked out to him one night. the first time they opened up to one another. she was too scared to tell her dad about the baby, knowing he'd hurt her.

less than two years later, y/n was emancipated. working a part-time job in the city. where her friends helped watch bowie when necessary. along with (hesitantly) liz, whenever jess made sure she was sober and had an okay boyfriend. it was a lonely life: just like jess's.

"that poor girl," lorelai commented with a sympathetic look making jess's stomach twist. he hated thinking about the living conditions of his family, he hated thinking of being apart from them. but when he did, he couldn't stop. which is why that night, when luke came upstairs to the apartment after closing, jess stopped him to have a serious conversation. "can i talk to you?"

luke searched his nephew's face for sincerity once he heard those words. curious if this was gonna be a 'steely dan sucks' conversation or an actual serious one. a rare option for the teenage boy. "yeah, what's up?"

there was a deep expression anguished on jess's face as he sat at the table. he was clearly unsure how to put his words, which was prominent in his eyes. "i... i can't be away from bowie anymore. i can't let y/n live in that shithole. they're my responsibility."

luke heard his nephew's words clearly. he agreed with every word, a sigh erupting when he processed the stress his teenage nephew was experiencing over this. "where are you going with this, jess?" the diner owner questioned with a calm tone. he still wanted the best for his nephew. he still wanted him to finish high school and start a worthy life. one he didn't want to be started by running off to new york and working to provide for his family. "i need to be with them one way or another. i can't be away from bowie, i can't do that to my kid. i can't be my dad."

"you're not, kid. you're nothing like jimmy, i'm telling you that right now. you would do anything to be with bowie and that proves you're better than him," luke explained before letting out a sigh and nodding his head. "you're a good guy, jess."

a conversation continued throughout the night until the two finally came to a conclusion. or at least luke did. taking matters into his own hands, he picked up the phone once his nephew hit the pillow. a hushed tone rushing into verses of explanations until it all made sense.

the next morning, jess mariano woke up like any other day. not too long after he woke up he went down to the diner to get started on work. his thanksgiving break had begun, so his monday would be spent annotating a new book for his son in between rush hours. it was when two familiar faces entered the diner that he hardly glanced up, noticing the gilmores immediately. "hey jess, how's it going?"

"well, i'm not bleeding or anything so..." jess shrugged towards the woman while he scribbled in a final note for an older bowie. rory kept her eyes on him while luke handed the two mugs of coffee. he had something in his head, especially when he kept glancing out the window every few seconds. "that's good," lorelai nodded before turning to luke.

"what are you reading now? more jane austen?" rory teased while eyeing the boy and taking a sip of her warm coffee. his eyes didn't dare look up from her while he shut the book, "uh huh." he nodded with a thin lipped smile. rory noticed the children's book in his hands and grinned, "didn't know you were that behind. that makes sense with your book taste though."

"this is bowie's, i'm just writing some stuff in the margins for him for when he learns to read," jess shrugged without noticing the sudden change in demeanor when he mentioned his son. the baby had never been to stars hollow. jess also rarely brought up his son to anyone, especially stars hollow-ers. miss patty and babette already whispered about the rebellion enough as it was. he didn't need to add to it by opening up to people who didn't care about him. "oh... that's sweet," rory forced a smile before sinking down into her seat. she felt shorter.

jess picked up the coffee to begin to refill a few cups throughout the diner. his stance was interrupted once the diner phone began to ring, luke noticed this quickly. it wasn't long before he grabbed the coffee from jess's hand and hardly offered to do refills for him instead. jess knew luke was up to something but hesitantly took the phone call, "luke's."

"nice greeting," a voice echoed on the other side making jess's infamous smirk spread across his face. y/n. "well, i thought i'd ask you to marry me. but i was worried our meat supplier was on the other line," jess teased into the phone while his hand went in his pocket. he subconsciously turned around so his back was to the rest of the diner. wanting to be alone with y/n, as if that was possible through this.

"thought so," y/n hummed with an obvious smile. "hey, bowie's missing his dad."

"is bowie's mom also missing bowie's dad?" jess asked with his typical teasing tone towards his friend. "bowie's mom may be. but she doesn't exactly want to give him the satisfaction of that. bowie's dad is very cocky," y/n says through the phone while luke spots something through the window and smiles.

the sound of the bell was a familiar one. reminding the people in the diner that someone had arrived. jess was so used to it now that he didn't bat an eye typically, but this time he glanced around his shoulder for a moment. his eyes glancing back at the figure stood infront of the door. jess's brown eyes locked on them for a second as he dropped the wired phone and bolted past the counter to them.

stood before his eyes was y/n and bowie. the eleven month old was in her arms with a pacifier between his lips. y/n wore a smile while she placed her phone in her pocket with a free hand. she was engulfed in jess's scent immediately as he threw the two into his arms. cigarettes, cheap cologne, and coffee erupting comfortably into her. "hey, watch out i have a baby."

jess ignored her words, but lightened his grip on her while taking bowie out of her arms to hold him. "bowie, hey..." his voice trailed off as he held onto his son. he was interrupted with emotion by being with his son once again. because as much as fatherhood was something he never wished upon himself, ever desired whatsoever, it had turned into the best thing that ever happened to him.

"hi kid," luke greeted the teenage girl while walking over to give her a side hug. he turned his attention towards jess who was hugging his baby with a grin he hadn't seen in awhile. "i thought about our talk last night, jess. you were right."

jess glanced over at his uncle before looking back at y/n with a smile. which shocked even him, because a smile was not something he'd done while being in stars hollow. "so..." luke's voice trailed off while he gave the floor to y/n. who took it and looked at jess, "i think bowie needs to be with his dad... and his mom."

the group shared a few looks, mixed with confusion and happiness. "i asked lorelai for a favor, y/n and bowie are gonna stay at the inn for a few weeks. until you guys can figure out a place." luke started with a nod. "you're gonna be eighteen in a few months, you're gonna graduate in a few months. i want you to do that, jess. so, i brought you some courage... as cheesy as that sounds."

jess looked between the two for a moment before sharing a nod with his uncle, as if a thank you in their own language.

"hey, i'm lorelai. it's nice to meet you i've heard so much about you. we seem to have a lot in common," lorelai interjected as she walked over and introduced herself to y/n. y/n knew her fair share of scoop of the town. her daily phone calls to jess were hardly just baby talk. she'd spent a lot of them telling him to go out with lorelai's daughter, who seemed good for him. but every-time... something was holding him back. "yeah you too, i'm y/n. thank you for everything, by the way. you really didn't have to let me."

"c'mon we're moms, we help eachother out. we can be like desperate housewives. but with no men," lorelai smiled while giving y/n's hand a squeeze. "oh! this is my bowie, rory."

"hey," y/n greeted with an awkward wave towards the other teenage girl who still seemed in shock by the situation. she forced a smile and waved, "hey."

the dispute was a lot more awkward than y/n could have hoped. but a sense of envy had taken over the both of them as they reflected on past or current relations with jess. an awkwardness that washed away quickly when y/n’s eyes locked back on jess and her son. a favorite sight of hers.

“c’mon,” jess nodded towards y/n while she took the baby out of his arms. he grabbed her bag and placed a free hand on her back, mumbling goodbyes before exiting the diner with his two. the three took the scenic tour towards the inn. bowie cracking a million smiles at the tons of birds in sight. the two teenagers reciprocating the action with shared giggles at the baby’s happiness.

the moment they entered the room, jess sat down with bowie to let y/n unpack a little bit. while the two caught up on unspoken things. “so… that was rory,” y/n says suggestively while unpacking her toiletries in the bathroom. jess was sprawled out on the bed with bowie in his arms, playing superman. he turned to her once she erupted from the bathroom and took a seat beside him. “that was rory.”

“she’s pretty,” y/n nodded with a small smile. in an attempt to be polite about jess’s possible love interest, yet he seemed hardly interested when bowie was around. “i guess,” jess shrugged before holding bowie back up in his arms. “have you asked her out yet?”

“i’m not too focused on that,” jess answered while clearly wanting the conversation to be done. y/n only smiled at the sight of the baby, gently rubbing his back. jess’s eyes locked onto her once more. watching her look at bowie with all the love made his eyes gleam. the way her smile spread with love, only made his heart beat faster happily. “thanks.”

y/n glanced over to him at his word, furrowing her eyebrows gently while she looked into his eyes. “for what?”

“for being here, i guess.” he mumbles while turning back to face bowie and bring him closer to him, the baby resting his head on jess’s chest. y/n smiled at the sight while leaning into the pillow, happily watching the two. “of course.”

so, the two laid back into the bed. smiling at the sight of their baby falling into a comforting sleep. followed by y/n minutes later, at a moment of peace. finally having someone she trusted with her baby so she could peacefully have a break. jess shut his eyes to the sound of the light breaths of both his favorite people. never having felt something so perfect once again in his life.

[justmeinadaze]

We're a Family Part 21 (Steddie X You)

A/N: Angsty thoughts have once again entered the chat. ENJOY!

Warnings: Dads Steddie/ Fem Mom Reader, SMUT, pegging :), dirty talk, handcuffing, FLUFF, all the love that comes along with these six and Dylan being the best big brother.

ANGST, the Munson-Harrington spouses are trying to get Ro into a good school and shenanigans ensue. Y/N's mom comes back on the scene. The main theme of this angsty reading is parents feeling like they would do anything for their kids without fully realizing what they think is best may not actually BE the best thing.

Word Count: 6695

Eddie pets your head as you, he, and Aurora sit in the lobby of the private school you were hoping to get her into to. You and Kierra had gone to schools like this growing up and you two always had fond memories of your time there. As your daughter got older they had programs that you felt like she would enjoy since she was such a creative, free spirted soul. 

Because it was a private school, however, you guys did have to take a tour, meet the faculty, and then the parents were interviewed. That’s why Steve suggested you and Eddie go alone. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if they find out about our living situation, it could…complicate things.”

“But you’re her father to, Steve.”

“That being the case, maybe you should go instead of me, Harrington.”

“No. Eddie, you agree with him?!”

“Sweetheart…”

“I wouldn’t be able to go. She doesn’t look like me. She’s your clone, Ed.”

“Baby, everything’s ok.”, Eddie tried to soothe.

“Steve should be here.”, you mumble.

“Yeah he should but Hawkins sucks, Y/N. This is just far enough outside of the city limits that they wouldn’t know about us—”

“You say that like we should be ashamed or something.”

“That’s not what I’m saying and I know you know that.”

“We raised her to understand that our relationship is okay. We shouldn’t have to fucking hide anything. Plus, you know she’s going to tell everyone. It’s not like it will be a secret for long.”

“For Aurora Munson-Harrington.”, a recruiter calls with a big smile. 

Without saying anything, you grab your purse and your daughter’s hand leaving Eddie to follow behind.

***

“Hey, how did it go?”, Steve asked as soon as everyone came back. 

“Dad, the place is BIG! And they have a lot of paints. I like school!”, Aurora shouted excitedly. 

“Oh, give it time, brat. You’ll hate it later.”, Dylan teased as he focused his eyes on the video game in front of him. 

“Ugh! Dylan, I’m na a brat! I’m a good girl.”

“Yeah, you are, princess. Hey, go watch your brother play for a little bit so we can talk.”

Steve’s gaze shifted between you two as your jaw tightened and you gripped the counter behind you. Eddie was using his serious voice and you heard it in his tone as well, preparing for the heated discussion to follow. 

As soon as she ran away, he turned to face you.

“You are extremely lucky that interview went well with your fucking attitude. I thought you wanted her to get in this school.”

“I do but—”

“But what? Because you tone and demeanor made it seem like you were completely uninterested.”

“We shouldn’t have to lie.”

“This isn’t about us, Y/N. This is about her.”

“Exactly. She doesn’t see anything wrong with having three parents. Why do we have to hide it? Me loving you two has nothing to do with her schooling or how smart our daughter is.”

“The world doesn’t work like that, honey.”, Steve sighed. “Eddie’s right. If this helps her then…we make that sacrifice. It’s a small one compared the other things and people we’ve lost.”

“Oh, ok. You’re right. Small sacrifice. So, anything school related, you’d be fine missing that, Steve? You’d be fine not attending something she’s really excited about? How would you explain that to her? ‘Sorry, baby. Dad can’t come because people can’t accept that you’re my daughter to. For the next hour, remember, it’s only daddy and mommy.’”

Steve stepped forward till his nose was almost touching your own. 

“Lower. Your. Voice.”

“Why? Am I wrong?”

“Do you really think we’re ok with this, Y/N? It fucking kills me I couldn’t go with you two today. I want to know where my daughter is going to be and that she’s safe. The three of us knew sacrifices would be made if we stayed together and stayed in Hawkins. This is one of those sacrifices and if it gets her into a good school where she can grow then so be it.”

“Dada?”

The two of you back away from each other as Aurora looks up at you with worried eyes. 

“Yes, honey. What do you need?”

“Can…Can Dylan and I have a snack?”

“Uh, not right now, baby. We’re going to have dinner in a couple of hours. Just hang on until then, ok?”

“Ok…Daddy? Did I do something bad?”

“No, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything bad. Mommy and I are just telling dad more about the school.”

“Oh. Okay. Dada, I wish you could have come.”

As she runs back to the living room both their eyes glance your way as you try to hide the frustrated tears that want to fall. 

“It’s not the same, Y/N. Just because I couldn’t be there today doesn’t mean she’s going to be heartbroken like Dylan was with Charlie. It’s not the same.”

“And we can figure out the events thing. Maybe after she gets accepted we won’t even have to worry if people find out.”, Eddie adds. 

Nodding your head, you walk away from them and close the door to the bedroom. 

***

“James, can you say Kierra? Kie—rra?”

“Ka, Ka, Ka.”, the baby babbles as he pokes at your sister’s face. 

“Yeah, that’s about right.”, she giggles from her place at the table the following afternoon. “So, I see you’re still upset.”

“How can I not be? Kierra, if I had known we would be hiding our relationship, I wouldn’t have suggested the school.”

“Wouldn’t that be selfish? I mean you guys can afford it now and it’s a really good place for Ro to grow.”

“But in the long run it would hurt her and Steve if he can’t go to events or she has to pretend only Eddie is her dad. Do you remember growing up and having to pretend that we were ‘high society’ to make our mom happy? It was fucking exhausting. I don’t want my daughter to go through that.”

The caller ID from the school pops up on your cell phone and you quickly reach over to take the call.

***

The guys had taken Aurora to the park so you could spend some time with your sister. When Dylan texted SOS to Steve’s phone, however, they quickly ran back home. 

“What’s going on, kid?”

“I don’t know but mom and aunt Kierra are outside on the porch. She got a phone call and I saw her crying.”

“Shit. Ok, here. Keep an eye on the other demons.”, Eddie tries to calm him as he ruffles Dylan hair. 

“Kierra! Stop telling me to calm down!”, you shout as they exit the back door. 

“Hey, what’s happening?”

Your sister sighs as you huff and look in the opposite direction as you dry your eyes. 

“The school called about Ro. They said they liked her and her personality but they overheard her telling the kids about her parents… Not only do they not like that you weren’t upfront but now they’re concerned about how the other parents will react if they find out. So…Aurora wasn’t accepted.”

Their eyes meet yours as your glare penetrates through their bodies. 

“We can find another school.”, Steve mumbles.

“You would know best, right?”, you retort sarcastically. “Are we going to pretend again or, oh, maybe we can mix it up this time. Maybe you and Eddie can go to the interview!”

“I’m, um, just going to check on the kids.”, Kierra murmurs awkwardly as she gets up and hurriedly heads inside. 

“So this is our fault?”, Eddie replies angrily as he lights a cigarette and leans against the porch banister. 

“If you BOTH had come with me and we were honest we could have assured them! Told them how we handle things in our town and at home. The three of us could have convinced them!”

“Yeah because we have such a good track record of doing that now.”, Steve scoffs. “Y/N, this isn’t a big deal. We can find another school if you still want to go down the private school route. If not she will be fine in public school. Dylan is.”

“Oh people say stuff about me all the time.”, Dylan adds startling everyone. 

“Jesus Christ! For real this time. You kids are going to need start wearing bells.”, Eddie pants after grabbing his chest. 

“I’m just saying. No matter where Ro goes people will talk. You told me once, mom, that you knew they would but you were willing to put up with it because you love them. I love them to so that’s why I don’t care. People can say whatever they want but it doesn’t matter.”

Steve smiles as he yanks the boy to his side for a hug. 

“Have you thought about talking to grandma? If you really want Ro in that school, she would most likely be able to sway them.”

“My mom doesn’t have that kind of sway in that area.”, he responds. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I meant…”, Dylan gestures towards you. “I don’t know what we call her anymore.”

“Weirdo, she’s probably the last person we should send in our honor. She doesn’t agree remember. And I swear to God Dylan Marshall if you sneak out and go talk to her I will break your legs.”

They boy chuckles at your threat as you smile softly in his direction. 

You don’t see it but the men you love exchange a look, having a silent conversation with just a glance.

##############

“Mrs. Y/L/N? You next meeting is here.”

“Ok, thank you, Debra. Send them in.” Your mother’s eyes widen with shock and confusion as Eddie and Steve enter her office. “Gentlemen. Why are you both here?”

“We’re here on behalf of our daughter and yours. Please, just listen to what we have to say and if you still want nothing to do with us or them we’ll leave quietly.”, Steve answers in an authoritative tone that has her curious. He waits for her to nod before digging into his wallet, pulling out the picture of Ro he keeps inside it, and sliding it across her desk. “Her name is Aurora.”

“I know. Y/N mentioned her name when I saw her at the bar four years ago.”, she responds softly. “She looks like you, Mr. Munson.”

“She’s a good kid. She laughs a lot, loves to draw, and is also incredibly loving. She loves to hang out with her older brother and teach her younger brother new things.” 

Eddie hands her the photo he keeps of all three kids and a small gasp leaves her lips. 

“Dylan has gotten so big…”

“Yeah. He’ll be sixteen soon. Can’t believe it’s been almost ten years since we met him and Y/N.”

Both men softly smile at the memory as her bottom lip quivers slightly while she continues examining the photo. 

“What’s the baby’s name?”

“James.”

“Yours I imagine, Mr. Harrington. He seems to have your smile…Y/N’s nose, for sure.”

Eddie and Steve glance at each other, allowing the “yours” to slide even though James is both their son. 

“Mrs. Y/L/N, last week we took our daughter to be interviewed at the school Y/N and Kierra went to. Well, Eddie and Y/N did. We…”, Steve gestured between them. “…thought it was best if they didn’t know our home life so she could get in.”

“Well, that was stupid. Knowing that school, they’d rather you tell the truth than lie.”

“Said the woman who values appearances over her family.”

“Eddie.”, Steve snaps. “Mrs. Y/L/N, she was denied but Dylan thought, maybe, there was something you could do to get them to reconsider. We haven’t told Aurora yet that she didn’t get in and all she’s been talking about is how excited she is to start school and make new friends there. If there’s anything you can do…or we can do…please. We’d do anything for our kids.”

“You remind me of my husband. He used to say the same thing all the time. One of things I always adored about him was the love he had for the girls.”

Eddie bit his lip and turned away as his knee began to bounce anxiously. Steve rests his hand on his leg, hoping your mom didn’t notice his sudden jumpiness.

“Thoughts, Mr. Munson?”

“No, ma’am.”, he sighs as he turns towards her and smiles. 

“I love them both to very much.”

“Is that why you stay away?”

“Eddie…”

“Mr. Harrington, I want to hear what he has to say.”

The metalhead sits up straighter as he fully gives her his attention. 

“She still cries over you two not being in their lives, you know? When she found out she was pregnant with Aurora she said she felt alone because she had no one to tell besides Kierra. It kills her that her father didn’t get to meet any of her children but what hurts her even more is you CHOOSE to stay away and even worse one of her kids, Dylan, is aware of that to.”

“We’re highly aware our relationship is taboo but we just want what’s best for these three.” Eddie points to the picture. “That’s why we adopted Dylan after his own biological father basically abandoned him. That’s why we worked hard to become better. I own the mechanic shop and Steve became a teacher.”

“That’s why I didn’t go to the interview.”, Steve sighed. “Even though it fucking killed me. Y/N’s afraid that Aurora will experience the same heartache Dylan did when Charlie never showed up for his games or school stuff and I assured her it’s not the same. Truth is I felt like my dad by not going. It would just destroy me if any of my kids thought for one second I didn’t care about what they’re interested in.”

Eddie reached out to rub his arm comfortingly causing Steve to flash him a small smile. 

“We’ll, um, let you get back to work. Thank you for hearing us out.”

“Mr. Harrington. Mr. Munson.” They stop as they rise and she hands them back their photos. “I never wanted my girls to struggle. Growing up in Hawkins I’m sure you’re aware that people gossip. I never wanted that for them. As parents I’m sure you also understand that…I thought I was doing the right thing… I thought if people saw them a certain way…”

“People always saw us a certain way… trailer trash and preppy rich boy. You daughter never saw that. She only ever saw Eddie and Steve. If Y/N thought the way you did she probably wouldn’t have even given us the time of day. Two random guys living across from her listening to loud metal music and working low wage jobs.”

“God Ed, I don’t even want to think about that.”, Steve sighed. 

“I’ll…I’ll see what I can do with the school but I can’t guarantee anything.”

���We understand.”

##############

“Hey, where have you two been?”, you ask from your spot at the table where you were feeding James and Aurora lunch. 

“Dada. Da. Da.”

“Look, Daddy. I drew this for you.”

“Aw, thank you, princess. Where’s Dylan?”

She points in the living room and when they look that way they see his arm lift up to lazily wave making them smile. 

“Honey, why don’t you go finish your lunch with him over there?”

“No, dada! Dylan will eat it all.”

“I will not!”

“YEAH YOU WILL!”

“Ok, ok. Just…go away so the adults can talk bad about you.” She giggles at Eddie’s joke as she grabs her plate and starts to run that way. “Slowly please.”

“What did you two do that we needed the kids to at least be out of earshot?”

“We took Dylan’s advice and went to talk to your mother.”, Steve answers calmly.

You couldn’t help but smirk as you shook your head, wiping James’s mouth before giving him more food.

“You know, the Munson-Harrington spouses really struggle with boundaries when it comes to parents.”

“She said she’d talk to them. She also agreed with you…that we all should have gone.”

“Well shit, Eddie. I guess that makes everything ok.”

“Y/N…”, Steve began with a rough tone but exhaled as he tried to control his temper. “Y/N, what do we need to do to make this better?”

“Ma, ma.”, James coos as he reaches for your hand that had been hovering with his next bite.

Shaking your head again, you put his spoon back on the plate and slid it over to Eddie. 

“Can you finish feeding him please? Thank you.”

Without saying another word, you got up and headed for the bedroom. 

#############

“Dylan, are we different?”, Aurora asks her brother from her spot on his bed.

The young boy swivels around on his gaming chair so he could give her his full attention. You had been headed up stairs to tuck her in but as soon as you heard her question, you paused and took a seat on the top step. 

“What do you mean, brat?”

“I talked to some of the kids…at the place mommy and daddy showed me…they said they only have one daddy.”

Eddie noticed you sitting and silently asked what you were doing. You motioned for him to quietly come sit beside you and he obliged. 

“Yeah, we’re a little different but that’s ok. Being different is cool. Plus, we’re all happy. Are you happy?”

“Yeah!”, she giggles making you smile. 

“Good. Now if anyone is every mean to you because we’re different, you tell me and I’ll beat ‘em up for you.”

“Dylan! No!”, she laughs harder causing Steve to poke his head around the banister. Tip toeing, he climbed to where you both were sitting and sat on the step below yours just between your legs. 

“Oh, yeah. I’ll bring James with me to.”

“No! James is too little… Dylan…why would kids be mean?”

“Because people sometimes react badly to things they don’t understand. That doesn’t make it ok but…”, he sighs. 

“A-Are kids mean to you?”

“Sometimes but it’s ok—”

“No! It’s not ok. I beat them up! Leave my bra-der alone!”

“Shhhh!”, Dylan laughs as he scoots closer to her. “That will stay between us. Mom will kill me if she found out I taught you that.”

Your head tilts as you silently nod and both men grin at your reaction. 

“I was going to say it’s ok because I have you guys now. Did you know when I was your age it was just me and mom?” He widens his eyes playfully as she does the same. “Kids at school would make fun of me because I only had a mom. That’s how I met Noah actually. He defended me.”

“I don get it. They were mean because you had no daddy an now they’re mean because we have two?”

“Weird isn’t it?” Dylan laughs making her smile. “That’s why I say, as long as you’re happy who cares what people think because, honestly, it’s way to complicated to make those other fuckers happy.”

Smacking Eddie’s shoulder, you get to your feet and casually stroll into his room. 

“I heard that. Between you and Eddie, we’ll have enough money in the swear jar to send Aurora to college and have some left-over for James.” Both kids cackle as Dylan, smacks a dollar into your hand. “Come on, little miss. It’s time for bed.”

As you lift her in your arms, both men start talking outside on the stairs loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“You know Steve, if she’s going to be starting school soon we need to get to work building that tower to lock her inside and—Oh, hey, Ro.”

“No, daddy! Dylan and mommy won’t let you. Right?”

“That’s right, my love.”, you smile as you kiss her forehead. “Who’s reading to you tonight?”

“You, mama.”

“Traitor.” She giggles at Eddie, waving her hand at them both as you carry her into her room.

***

“What are you looking at so intently?”, the metalhead asks as he steps out of the steamy bathroom drying his hair. 

“Huh? Oh, I’m looking at other school options for Rara.”

Eddie grins at Steve’s casual pronunciation of how his daughter says her name. Now that she’s gotten older, she’s gotten better at saying it correctly but occasionally he’ll still call her that making everyone beam at him. 

“You don’t have faith in her mom?”

“I just want to be prepared. Unfortunately, there aren’t a lot of closer options around here.”, he sighs. “My mom suggested a school they almost sent me to but she’d be living there and I’ll be damned if that’s going to happen. Plus, the tuition is insane.”

After sliding on some boxers and jumping onto the bed beside him, Eddie tenderly kissed the man’s shoulder before looking at the computer screen with him.

“Good to know you’re not one of those preppy douchebags, Harrington.”

Steve flashed him a sassy smirk leaning over to kiss his cheek. 

“That school is the only private school within a route I’m afraid.” Their eyes glance towards you as you saunter in and close the bedroom door. “Our only other options would be the one IN Hawkins downtown or driving an hour every day. Which, I mean, I’d do it for her if that’s what she wanted.”

“So, you don’t have faith in your mom either?”, Eddie sighs.

 “I actually do. Like Dylan said if anyone can change their mind it’s her. I’m just…sayin’. The only reason I know is because after he was born she thought a private school would be good for him but Charlie and I didn’t have that kind money then.” You climb up onto the bed facing them as you cross your legs. “I think it all worked out though because the classes he takes at Hawkins High he seems to like.”

Steve closes the computer and places it off to the side as they give you their full attention. 

“You hurt my feelings.”, you sigh. “I’ve never once thought about hiding our relationship to get something done.”

“That’s not true.” You glared at Eddie as he spoke. “We hid our relationship that whole first year we were together. When Steve’s dad thought you were just with him you didn’t correct him.”

“That was different.”

“How?”, Steve countered. 

“Your dad was berating you. I didn’t want to make that worse and when it came to us that first year we were afraid Charlie would use that to take Dylan.”

“So you lied for your son? Yeah… that’s what we were doing for Ro.”

“Steve should have been there…”

“Yeah, and you needed to be there for Dylan. We can play this game all day, Y/N.”, Steve argued causing you to fold your arms in frustration. “We make sacrifices for our kids. Obviously, this one was unnecessary but… we thought this is what was best.”

“So did my mother when she told us to tell people that our mom runs a ‘sophisticated company’ and our father is a ‘businessman’. My dad was a mechanic like you, Ed, and my mom IS pretty high up in the company she works for but she would make people believe she was like CEO or some shit.”, you roll your eyes. “Kierra and I had to be ‘little ladies’ which was stupid because none of the kids were proper like how she claimed. Another reason I liked it.”

Eddie reached out to caress your cheek making you smile. 

“It was exhausting. I don’t want that for her. I don’t want her or James to pretend to be people they aren’t.”

“What about Dylan?”

“Pfft, have you met our son? He’s always been himself and then some.”, you laugh. “Remember, this is the kid that stood up to your father twice and told him he was mean.”

“God, yeah. First time anyone ever stood up for me. That was also the first time he said I was his dad.”, Steve gently grinned as Eddie rubbed his back. “I hated it to, Y/N. You have no idea how much I hated not going to that interview. My dad never went or participated in anything I did…like at all. It practically killed me when she came in and said she wished I could have gone. She sounded so sad…”

“Steve, your dad didn’t go to your stuff because he was selfish. You are nothing like him. Same with Eddie. When I saw your dad…I agreed with Steve. After meeting him and your mom, I have no idea how you came out so amazing.”

“Wayne, mostly. On the outside he always seemed like a hardass but he’s a good man. Then I met Stevie here. Add you and that heathen who moved in across from us and you get the man I am today.”, Eddie beams widely making you two laugh. “Without Wayne, I’d probably be an asshole who ended up in jail to.”

“I don’t think so, babe. Your heart is too big.”

“Soooo… are we friends again?”

“Nope. I’m going to hate you forever.”, you joke with a smile.

“Mhmm.” Steve and Eddie look at each other before playfully tackling you flat to the mattress making you laugh. 

“So, if you hate us then that means you don’t want us to make love to you tonight, right? Because we can just go to bed and—”

The metalhead smiles as you cut him off with a passionate kiss.

“Is it ok…if we…”, you blush as you point towards the closet making Eddie chuckle harder at your bashfulness. 

“Still? The strap on STILL makes you all shy?”

“Eddie, don’t tease her. She’s had a rough couple of days.”

“Fiiiiiine.”, he whines as he rolls off the bed to grab the toy. 

“You know, if you’re going to be mean, I think we should use these to.”, you smirk, digging into your bed side table drawer and producing the handcuffs.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, princess.”

Steve gently pets your head and kisses your temple before tugging on Eddie’s hand, yanking him to the mattress and taking hold of his wrists. As he secures him to the headboard, the metalhead tenderly places kisses along the man’s chest making him bite his bottom lip. 

“’Bout time you had to wear these.”, he jokes as he leans down to quickly kiss the boy’s lips and climbs to the edge of the bed to help you get into your device. “You almost got it this time, baby.”

“These straps here confuse me.”

“Don’t worry, honey. I got you. We’ll always be here to take care of you.”

Cupping his cheeks in your hands, you softly kiss his lips. 

“I’m sorry for snapping at you…at both of you. I should have explained myself better.”

“Hey, don’t worry about that anymore, ok? No matter what happens we’ll figure this thing out together.”

You nod as you glance towards Eddie who smiles and nods his head as well. While Steve guides the one end of the toy inside of you sex, you groan as you cling to him, a shaky breath escaping from his as well. 

“Wow. That slid into you so easily. We haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already so wet.”

“I’m excited to use this again.”, you whisper.

“Yeah? Well, why don’t you use Eddie’s pretty little mouth and I’ll get his sexy ass ready?”

Your grin grows as you give him one more kiss and climb back onto the bed near the long-haired boy’s head. Placing the silicone near his lips, he opens his mouth, and gladly takes you in as you slowly thrust your hips forward. Hearing him groan, you glance towards his lower half, and see Steve casually stroking Eddie’s length as his teases his entrance with his tongue.

“Does that feel good, baby?”, you ask as you pull yourself away.

“Y-You have no idea. Fuck.”

Mewling at his whimpers, you thrust the toy into his mouth again as you watch Steve lift the other boy’s legs, practically folding him in half as he continues to lick inside of him while occasionally spitting into his hole and pushing it in with his fingers. 

“Shit. You two are so sexy together. I’m gonna cum.”

Continuing to pump Eddie’s cock, Steve leaned forward to capture your lips sloppily with his own as you chased your high. Panting into his mouth, your body shuddered as you came.

“Are…are you…okay?”, you coo as you back away and tilt down to move some of the metalhead’s hair out of the way. 

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m perfect.”, he answers in a gravely tone that has you swooning as you kiss his lips. 

“Do you want to take him or do you want me to and then you take me?” Steve chuckles lightly as he watches your breathing stutter at the second option before grabbing the lube off the nightstand and handing it to you. “Give me a minute.”

Opening his legs wide, both their mouths fall open as Steve gradually pushes his cock into the other man’s entrance, falling forward to tenderly kiss his lips. 

“Jesus, Eddie. You always feel so good, baby.” Eddie’s dick twitches at his words making the other boy smirk as he casually rolls his hips, watching as the man tugs at his restraints. “You want to touch me? Can’t you feel me already, sweetheart? Because, fuck me, I can feel every part of you.”

After placing the lube back in on the table, you gently brush some of Steve’s hair away from his eyes. 

“Are you ready?” Silently he nods and you take your place behind him, firmly taking hold of his hips. 

As you slowly push the toy into him, a moan leaves his lips that has your pussy clenching around the end inside of you. 

“How does that feel, Steve?”

Eddie’s eyes scan over the man’s features taking note of the blissed out state he was currently in. 

“She asked you something.”, he whispers causing the other man to lick his lips as he tries to form a coherent thought. 

“I…good…too good.”

Holding onto him, you pull your hips all the back before thrusting forward hard and he falls into Eddie’s neck to muffle the scream of pleasure that wanted to be heard. Working his own rhythm, as you continued to pump into him, Steve pushed back into you and down into Eddie causing you both to moan and whimper. 

“I…I’m not gonna…last long…FUCK! E-Eddie, you have to feel this.”

Steve chases his high and you pound into him, trembling as you cum. After a few more rough thrusts, he collapses on his husband’s chest as he fills him up. He mewls as you try to gently pull out of him, caressing his back as you do.

Moving out of the way, he comes up beside you and almost manically places wet kisses along your neck. 

“So fucking sexy, pretty girl. Do you need help?” After you nod, he pushes you closer to Eddie while holding his leg up by the knee. Lining you up, Steve guides you into the man underneath you.

“Oh, whoa!”, you stutter, catching your palms on Eddie’s stomach. 

“Jesus fucking Christ…”

“Eddie, baby, I’m so sorry. Y-You’re so wet. I—”

Steve’s hand lightly covered your mouth as he kissed your cheek. 

“Look at him, honey. He’s falling apart in a good way.”, he murmurs making your eyes flutter shut. Straddling Eddie’s waist, he reaches behind him, and guides his cock into his body. 

“Oh fuck y—”

Steve smiles as he cuts off the boy’s profanity. “Shhh! Baby, I know. I know it feels good. You have to be quiet though.” Eddie nods as the man lifts his hand and places them on either side him on the mattress as he bounces on top of him. “Just keep looking at me, okay?”

Your own pace began to quicken as you wrapped your arms around the man in front of you for leverage, rolling your hips hard as you slammed into him. Steve felt your forehead rest against his equally sweaty back and he reached up to rub your arms as your pace faltered before coming undone behind him. 

As he mumbled under his breath, Eddie did something he had never done before. After releasing his spend inside of the man above him, he began to softly cry like you had done a few times. 

“Eddie? Are you okay? Do you need anything?”, Steve whispered as he hovered above him. 

You had known these men almost ten years and you already knew exactly what he needed. He groaned as you pulled out of him and crawled up the bed to release him from his binds. The handcuffs clattered to the mattress as Steve quickly climbed off him and Eddie rolled on to his side, tugging you into his embrace. 

Feeling you wince, he blindly unhooked the straps on your hips and gently removed the toy before tossing it to the end of the bed. Doing what they did with you, Steve laid behind him and wrapped his strong arm around you both as he petted your hair and kissed Eddie’s shoulder. 

After a few minutes, he finally released you from his hold and kissed your forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you to.”, you beam up at him. “Did that feel good?”

“So fucking good.” The metalhead grins when he hears Steve’s throaty laugh. “I’m not going to lie…I’m way to fucked out for my legs to work for a bath.”

“Well, thankfully for a bath, you sit.”

“A ha ha, Harrington. I just want to lay here and be clingy.”

“I’ll get a towel.”, the man whines as he playfully rolls his eyes. 

#############

A knock on the door the next morning startles everyone as you quickly get up to answer it. 

“Mom? Hi. How did you—”

“Wayne told me where you guys were now. I hope I’m not intruding. May I come in? I have some news.” 

“Um…”

“Hi!”, Aurora shouts as she pushes past your legs towards the front door. “I’m Aurara. It’s very nice to meet you.” She extends her little hand to your mother who grins as she shakes it. 

“Excuse me. Who invited you over here?”, you tease as your turn her towards the living room. “Go get your dads, please.” 

She giggles as she waves at your mom before doing what you ask. You gesture inside and she thanks you as she steps into your home, taking a look around. 

“I, uh, told Mr. Munson she looks exactly like him.”

“Yeah, she has his energy to.”, you reply as you lead her through the kitchen to the table. 

“We were summoned?”, Eddie jokes till he sees he sees your mom and glances towards you. “Everything ok?”

“She said she had some news.”

Her smile grows as Steve ventures in with James in his arms.

“Goodness. Seeing you two side by side, I don’t think these kids got any of your genes.”

“That’s what I keep saying but…”

“He does have your nose though which is your dad’s nose.”

“Dada.”, James coos as he pats the man’s chest.

“Is that the only word he knows?”

“Why are you here, mom? I’d rather get this out of the way and have you leave before they get attached to you. I’m not going to let you hurt them the way you did Dylan.”

Both men take a seat as Steve reaches for your hand. 

“I, um, got Aurora a second interview at that school but their stipulation is that they meet all of you. They actually said they loved her a lot. She has a bright personality and seemed eager to learn. When she talked about you three, it was nothing but positive things especially when it came to her dads. So, yeah, she hasn’t gotten approved but I think if you three go in there strong, I don’t see why they wouldn’t.”

“Thank you. We appreciate you doing that for her.”, Eddie replies. 

“How is Dylan? Is he here?”

“Not for you, he’s not.”, you growl. 

“Look, Y/N, I understand—”

“No, see the thing is you don’t understand. Our entire life you never understood what it was like to have to constantly pretend to be something you’re not. To feel like I had to lie to make you happy. I did that my entire life and the one time I did something that made ME happy you disappeared. Not only did you disappear but you sided with Steve’s asshole father and threw a tantrum around town.”

“I know how this town can be! I know that there are many people like Bill who would cause problems! When I married your father my own parents disowned me for ‘marrying trash’!”, she sighed.

“Sounds familiar.”, Eddie murmured. 

“It’s…It’s not the same.”, she stammers.

“How? When you first met them you said Eddie was trailer trash with a bad reputation because of his father and that Steve was lazy and immature. Charlie was a cheating, dead beat dad but somehow these two were worse.”

Tiny fingers touch your face and you turn to see James’s big honey brown eyes scan you over.

“Ma… mama.”

Falling into your arms, he wraps his little limbs around your neck before leaning back to make small kissing motions on your nose till you can’t help but laugh.

“James, my love. You are getting slobber all over mommy’s face.”

“Y/N…I’d like to try… with you and Kierra.”

Situating your son, your eyes lock with hers. 

“Can you accept my relationship with these two?”

Her gaze shifts between them both as they sit up straighter.

“We’re not Charlie, Allen, or Bill. We love her and those kids and we’re not going anywhere.”, Steve affirms. 

Your mom Spidey sense tingles as you turn towards the stairs. 

“Weirdo, may as well add your two cents.”

Dylan comes into view and places himself beside Eddie. 

“We’re a family.”, he shrugs. “I think I speak for my mom as well when I say we’re a lot happier as Munson-Harrington’s then we ever were as anything else.”

The metalhead circled his arm around his son’s waist as the boy pats his shoulder. Aurora skids into the room and places a piece of paper on the table in front of your mother. 

“Here you go! I drew this for you. I hope you like it.”, she blushes. As she turns to run back into the living room she hits Dylan’s hip who promptly turns to run after her. 

Your mom softly smiles as she looks at picture your daughter drew. 

“Next weekend, after the interview, maybe the six of you could come by and tell me how it went… you, your children, and your husbands.”

After walking her out, you ask Dylan to watch the kids so you can make lunch. 

“I’m going to freshen up real quick. Please for the love God, be nice to each other.”

“No promises.”, you son jokes as he pokes his sister’s side making her laugh. 

Both men follow you into the bedroom and as soon as the door closes, you fold into Steve’s chest and let go.

“It’s ok, honey. Everything’s ok.”

“This is a good thing, sweetheart, and hey this doesn’t absolve her off the past five years but it’s a step in the right direction.”

“Oh, baby, did you hear that? Eddie’s breaking out the big words.” They smile when you laugh. “He’s right though. If you still decide you don’t want a relationship with her that’s alright. The kids still have Wayne and my mom.”

“Which reminds me, I need to scold my uncle. He didn’t warn us or nothing!”

Releasing Steve from your grasp, you turn to cling to Eddie.

“I never thought I’d ever hear her acknowledge you two that way. I love you both so much.”

The sound of Dylan calling out to his brother followed by James crying pulls you three apart as you sigh. Eddie kisses your lips before Steve does the same. 

“We love you to, Y/N.”

################

@adequate-superstar @kalinaselennespeaks @nailbatanddungeon

@dad-steddie @manda-panda-monium @alligator-person

@decadentwombatmiracle @katie-tibo @marsupiooo

@local-stoner-bitch @steamystrangerfics @lunatictardis

@adaydreamaway08 @hazydespair @actuallyspencerreid

@moviefreak1205 @waylandmorgernsternherondal-blog

@kik51199 @strngrlytn @idkidknemore @damon-loves-pie

@k-k0129 @micheledawn1975 @eddie86baby

@justmeandmymeanderingthoughts @3rriberri

@sashaphantomhive @chelebelletx @big-ope-vibes

@munsonzzgf @munsonmoonshine86

[pdpenpals]

happy to have found your blog, love the concept!

could we maybe get a confession letter from pdh!travis? 👉👈

hi!! thank you so much, anon. hope you like the liberties i've taken with this request (you didn't specify what kind of confession it was going to be!! /silly), hehe. you'd wanna hear what this lil guy has to say, but he thinks it may be a little too much.

as expected, there’s another letter waiting for you at the usual spot. sure, it’s exciting, but you can’t help but wonder how fast it takes for your “secret admirer” (as your friends like to put it, even though you insist you're just friends) to send you a reply and leave it without you being able to catch a glimpse of him. maybe you should be scared instead. is it even possible to do that? who would have so much free time on their hands to go through the trouble of this anonymous (sorta) exchange? you two apparently.

the envelope as always is the plain white ones you can easily buy in bulk for cheap. there’s no seal, but you can easily tell it’s been shut tight by glue. you look around and find no one else within the vicinity, so you decide it should be fine to open it and start reading then and there. as usual, it's left unsigned.

My dearest cruel friend,

Re: your last letter, ouch. After how I’ve bared myself to you these past few weeks, that’s how you reply? As someone who’s been in Phoenix Drop longer than I have, I don’t think that’s very “bleeding heart” (I don't think that's the actual word they use but does anyone actually memorize the school's core values??) of you. Just kidding. Sorry.

I still wonder what life would be like if I never transferred to PD. So far acads and socializing have gotten better than expected but never easier. To be honest, what I have now isn’t exactly how I thought my high school experience here would be like. This year, I imagined going out with friends more, maybe even a nightly rendezvous with someone who’s caught my eye, but my words and I are falser than vows made in wine. 

My bad, practice has been way too fun to not quote this year's play. Seriously though…

I say all that, yet here I am, spending more time at school than I should, sticking around for a while longer on campus, checking every other hour for your next letter. Before I knew it, I’d spent the majority of this semester getting to know you. Now I do, and I am sure that there’s no one else like you in this world. I guess you could say I’m absolutely smitten by you.

My friend says I should just go up to you and reveal myself already, and as much as I want to say I don’t think it’s the right time yet, or that I prefer the intimacy of being your faceless penpal (free to quarrel with you all I like in pen without being judged), I’m honestly very very afraid of what you’d think of me when we finally meet face to face. No matter how hard I try, I'll never be like said friend, forward and confident and cool.

It is as clear as day that my fate is sealed.

You’d hate to hear this, but I’ve been meaning to distract myself from our exchange by choosing to hang out more with other people, hence my slower replies. But hear me out when I say that there’ll be this little something about them that makes me think all about you, and then I’ll get upset since they will never be anything like you. So there’s no way for you to tell me that don’t think of you every day.

PS. You’ve probably figured out who I am by now, haven’t you?

[ddostoyevskyy]

❝𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐖 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍❞

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈: The Law of Irrationality, 𝐈𝐈!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒... nothing much, honestly!

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄... I’m trying to build Ranpo and reader’s bond and I haven’t really write for so long! I was actually thinking of writing for another fandom (Haikyuu!!, ehem) but I don’t know if that fandom’s alive, lol. Anyway, enjoy and thank you for reading!

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒... 1.3K

SERIES MASTERLIST

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄, 𝐈, 𝐈𝐈, 𝐈𝐈𝐈, 𝐈𝐕, 𝐕, 𝐕𝐈, 𝐕𝐈𝐈, 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈

In spring of youth, it was my lot. To haunt of the wide world spot. The which I could not love the less — so lovely was the loneliness.

For once, you were quite nervous about going out with two members of the Agency given by how they worked their ways to crime involvements. You worked with the government — you were a legal ability user, although using your ability is strictly prohibited by the government’s doctor, it felt like a crime being caught tagging along with them. Yet, you never minded it before. Maybe, because time just flies? It’s been six years. Many things have changed — you have changed. Your beliefs had became solid to fight crime, you became a slave to the government — which you once thought you hated when you were a kid.

The rails of train registers in your ears with aptitude, blocking ever noises you had in your mind as you push away those thoughts. You were reminded how you always ride the train alone, now your supposed to be empty seat besides you were filled with someone and his annoying rattling teeth as he chewed on his lollipop — the clicking noise of his tounge were loud enough to put you on edge, but you were surprisingly calm and composed.

The silent ride were quite awkward, atleast for you. As you remember how you were always clinging to him before put you in an embarrassment when you accidentally grab on the hem of his sleeves when the crowd seems to made him almost disappear and left you behind. You were flooded with too much nostalgia as he grabbed your wrist to stop you from separating to him.

Maybe it’s the loneliness. And the always wanting to do things alone. But now that you have someone doing things you usually do alone — it was something new for you.

“I have a question,” Ranpo muttered under his breath as you walk shoulder to shoulder; his hand on your wrist never let go and his hold were firm. His eyes were looking straight ahead where Atsushi is a meter away from the two of you. The tone of his voice were low, as if he wanted this conversation to be strictly for your ears only. His fingers wrapped around your wrist were tapping gently and you noticed how he enveloped his fingers in the end of the sleeves of your coat where your skin were exposed — as if feeling you; as if touching you to tell if you were really real or not.

“Why did you chose not to join the Agency? You.... We could’ve been solving crimes together.”

“...Together. Just you and me, plus the President, of course!” His younger voice echoes through your ears. Was he really looking forward for that? The past you two had together feels like a fever dream for you. Every words, every feelings, ever warmth you felt before never felt so real... nor this one too. You were always lost; you never really know what’s reality and what is not — the downhill of your ability is the more you’ve taken knowledge of the future, the more you don’t feel like everything’s real anymore.

Why did you chose to run away? Was that the real motive behind his question? Or was it genuine?

You can’t even tell anymore. Yet you answered. “I took a different path because everything that happened felt like.... it felt awful,” Ranpo’s silence made your heart jump a beat that you pray he won’t feel the sudden pump in your wrist pulse. “The past had made me realized that my ability wasn’t supposed to be used like that. My ability were supposed to be used with ulterior motives and not for good. That’s why I left the Agency because without my ability, I am nothing.”

“That’s just you being irrational, huh,” His statement doesn’t even feel like it was a question; it is a fact. The clasp of his fingers on your wrist tightens a bit, but it doesn’t hurt. “Do you think, the President would’ve saved you if you’re nothing? He never made any decisions he knew I won’t agree with. The President wasn’t the one who saved you, (Name). I did. That’s why you owe me.”

Your lips stretched in a bittersweet smile as you look straigh ahead, still walking. Ranpo’s lips parted in a sigh as he watched you; green eyes staring at your solemn expression. “I never asked to be saved. I asked to be executed, Ranpo. What do you take me for? I was the one who surrender to Mister Fukuchi after killing every doctors on my father’s hospital. I was the one who destroyed that building. I was the one who ruined my own life. So, how could I be grateful into something I don’t really want? Would wanting myself to be alive after what I did is the right thing?”

“Is this why you chose to run away from me?” Your eyebrow arched. Run away? From him? You don’t understand. Why is it all about this guy? Why is he always saying things and relate it to him? Does he really want you to be grateful into something you never asked for? What was worth saving a life who ruined others? It was definitely a fair trade. Many children had been reported missing and was never found because of that — because of your father. But after all of that sacrifices, those children had been a lost cause that fell into depression and never really got to enjoy their childhood.

“I... I wanted to give you a new life, (Name)...” He trailed off, his hand tightening and loosens as if he’s squeezing your wrist to prove his point. But you never really understand.

You were irrational, after all. You’ve always been.

Despite having the ability to conquer one’s mind to find truth and prevail lies with existing past and future — your mind wasn’t as clear. You just can’t work together.

“I’m a lost case, Ranpo,” You sighed, “And as the World’s Greatest Detective, you should amend this lost case as case closed.”

He eyed you, head tilted as he stared at you with now open eyes and you were quite surprised by the serious expression on his face. “There’s no lost that can’t be found. Just like those children who lost themselves under your own ability, someone found his way back and ended up in our Agency.”

Your breath hitched when you realized; his eyes were fixated in front where Nakajima Atsushi is walking straight ahead, glancing behind him from time to time to make sure the two of you were still on track. Your mouth fell open as you stared at the young man and when Atsushi looked back, your eyes met the purple-yellow hues of his eyes as he shyly smiled at you.

“N-No way.” You muttered in disbelief. You remembered. They called him the White Tiger. He can’t control his ability every time the moon goes white and the clouds in the sky were nowhere to find. That ability were the most difficult to tame, the tiger seems to have its own personality and its claws were always out; always ready to claw your heart and eat your consciousness out.

“I told you,” Ranpo paused, halting his feet as your body followed through his movements. You were frozen in the place as he pull you towards him, the proximity of his body pressed to you as he pressed his face closer to yours.

“You can’t run away from everything that happened in the past. Despite how different your mind works, I’ll make things work for you somehow.”

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved 2024 © ddostoyevskyy. Do not repost without permission or plagiarized.

[mothmanssweetsucculentass]

Bloody Painter Headcanons

Did y’all miss these? Idc if this seems like a weird direction to go from my past two HC lists, I’ve always loved Helen as a character and I just went and read up on all the compiled lore DeluCat made of him years ago, and I got some HCs fresh in my mind!

I used THIS YouTube video from DeluCat herself as my main source, assume anything I don’t list/discuss here is filled in by anything here. I’m actually really impressed that she did so much research on different serial killers, psych ward operations, and violent crimes to make Helen as realistic as possible.

Expect canon typical horror/mature topics being discussed from this point forward, nothing is censored beyond this point!!!!

Roughly about 25, give or take a few years

STRICTLY he/him, will react violently if anyone calls him different pronouns, especially feminine ones

Despite this, he’s definitely not cis (it’s actually canon that he’s agender! Friendly reminder that pronouns =/= gender)

Like bro you were literally raised to have a gender crisis. Everyone point and laugh at the egg

Jeff used she/her for him once as a joke and he still has deep scars from what Helen decided to do to him

Like I shit you not, Helen took a sizable chunk of skin out of Jeff’s back, and only stopped because Eyeless Jack physically had to hold him back until Jeff left his line of sight

You wouldn’t even expect such violent outbursts from this guy considering how normally calm he is

Barely talks at all tbh

Like, he’ll interact politely with most of the residents of the mansion and isn’t turned off by conversation, but don’t expect him to hold a full conversation if he deems you boring or unimportant

Which tbh he probably will, he’s not super big on friendships considering how his last one went

Mostly prefers to keep to himself and is often in the more run down/abandoned wings of the manor

Has a naturally more feminine looking face (long eyelashes, smaller nose, etc) and does nothing to try and fix/hide it

Has converted one of the dilapidated rooms into an “art” studio

And by art. Heh. Let’s just say. Corpses

No actually he really just has an entire room dedicated to some of the most fucked up art a person is capable of making

Sculptures made out of bones and flesh, jars filled with coagulated blood submerging his taxidermy projects, eyeball jewelry, teeth jewelry, paint made from pummeled organs and flesh, brandings and etchings on stretched human skin, plushies made of human hair, he’s got it all

He also makes more “normal” art, which in reality is just more traditional mediums that still depict his usual obsessions with violence

Has gotten used to the scent of rot and decay like pretty much every resident has, but is one of the few who enjoys it

Is very selfish, self centered, and has an ego larger than Texas

Him and Ben have a somewhat transactional relationship; Helen films all the depraved torture and crafting he enacts and shares it with Ben, and Ben prints out news articles of Helen’s crimes for Helen to make art with, or just look at to admire his handiwork

ZERO empathy. His morals heavily align with the BEN AI, and even somewhat Slenderman’s

Hates animals. Not cause he’s scared of them or anything, but because he finds their existence useless

…unless he’s using it for fucked up taxidermy

LOVES torture the same way Eyelss Jack loves vivisections

One of his favorite things to do is rip a person’s fingernails out one by one, and then severing the hand and using the bleeding nail beds as the world’s most fucked up large paintbrush

Besides art, he loves to read. Kind of a given considering he’s basically the quiet kid

Loves depraved horror novels and serial killer memoirs/autobiographies

Can speak fluent Chinese, and often shit talks other pastas to their faces without them even knowing

Kagekao learned Chinese just so the two could gossip

Similar to EJ, has a more “buff” physique and has been seen breaking bones effortlessly. When you’ve been murdering steadily for over a decade at this point you kinda just learn where the weak/break points are in the human body

Can improvise anything into a weapon

Actually he really loves killing people with unconventional murder weapons. Scenes are often found with things like metal straws lodged in a victim’s sternum, or the top of a bowling pin shoved down a victim’s throat so far their jaw broke and the victim subsequently choked on their own blood from their shattered teeth

He’s gotten so good at this that the other pastas will literally make a game out of it and challenge him to use an outlandish item as a weapon the next time he kills

“Okay okay how about a bong” “are you being serious right now” “just answer the question art boy” “twice, actually. Though technically I think one of them was a really weird ceramic frog instead. That, or a pcp pipe.” “Awesome”

Hates removing his mask around anyone he’s not acquainted with

Gets reeeaaalll fuckin quiet too

Has gotten so good at being stealthy he doesn’t even alert or startle people like Eyeless Jack does

Surprisingly enough he actually gets enough sleep compared to most of the other residents of the manor

He’s also able to get comfortable and sleep practically anywhere, in the weirdest positions too. Is often found passed out in his studio sitting up, or laying on the floor covered in metal torture tools and bones

Despite his lack of empathy, his blood boils and he seethes if anyone dares to mess with Sally

The first day he stumbled across the manor and introduced himself by what the media called him, Sally gave him a drawing of himself, and he vowed on the spot to look out for the little snot

Is already a naturally patient person, and is incredibly patient and gentle when explaining how to do specific art things to Sally

Jokingly “agrees” with Sally about not liking doctors whenever she’s around eyeless Jack (though in his case he hates psych doctors vastly more than physical ailment doctors)

Back to the patience thing: will stalk a victim for months to toy with them. He has an eternity to do this to people with his newfound abilities granted to him by slenderman, why rush?

Helen 🤝 BEN/Ben = malewhore mansplain manipulate

Will say anything to get what he wants

Thinks in a very transactional and technical way. If you don’t do or offer something to benefit him first, he doesn’t even see you as a person

Is friends/close with: Sally, Eyeless Jack, BEN/Ben, Jason, Ann, and KageKao

Has a tolerable relationship with/is very neutral about: Masky, Hoody, Jane, Liu, Puppeteer, LJ, and Slenderman

Doesn’t get along with/HATES: clockwork, Nina, and Jeff

Him and Jason often collaborate together on pieces involving still living people

Him and Ann have a mutual distaste for doctors/hospital settings, and can often be found stitching up their wounds (or sometimes in Helen’s case a piece involving human flesh) together

Ace, heavily questioning if he’s aro too

He finds Ann aesthetically pleasing to look at, but his thoughts don’t go any further than that. Often uses her as figure practice (with her consent)

Is mainly fascinated by the fact she’s a walking sentient corpse

Tried cannibalism once, wasn’t a fan

Tried going to both Eyeless Jack and Ann once during a dysphoria-spurred panic attack and begged for bottom surgery

“But why tho” “I’m ace. I don’t need it. Don’t women who never want to get pregnant get rid of their uteruses anyways?” “Well, yes, but-“ “so help me god get this thing off my body”

Obviously one of the few times he actually doesn’t appear calm and put together to people. Tries his damn hardest to hide these panic attacks unless around Eyeless Jack or Ann. Would be mortified if Ben, Sally, or any of the loud judgmental pastas saw him in this state

Gives a lot of his full corpse art pieces a physical sex swap

You’re dead but hey free top surgery and you get to be fucked up art

Honestly doesn’t give a shit about symbolism, makes art of whatever he wants/feels like and makes it pretty clear there’s no hidden meaning

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: BEMIS. Part 2

READING THINGS SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO! 

Part one is here. Thanks Tumblr.  (please go read it)

Two issues left of this trash heap volume. Any time you think it can’t get worse you look at the next panel. 

NEXT ISSUE. We’re almost through this collection. This bread is not what I ordered. Send it back. 

ISSUE #192. 

(Spoilers: There are no sharks in this episode. For those of you waiting for the dolphins, that’s in vol 2)

Alright. In this issue. We open with Marc, Diatrice, and Frenchie sitting at the table having coffee. ANd Frenchie looks very dead and is in scrubs. 

I’MMA PAUSE FOR A SECOND. 

I will cover the Lemire run later. It’s inevitable and something I’m deeply looking forward to. 

The thing about the Lemire run is that it takes place at a time when ALL of Moon Knight’s original friends had left him. Gena, the kids, Crawley, Frenchie, Marlene… They had all been driven away. They were all in pain and either hated him, were disenchanted by him, or just pushed away. 

The Lemire run takes place with the Moon Knight system, Marc in particular, having a severe mental health crisis. 

DID is caused by extreme repeated trauma at a young age. It leads to dissociative episodes, and it is not uncommon for other issues to crop up (thanks trauma!). A lot of systems, if they have the health care, end up in and out of hospitals when they reach crisis points. 

In this run, a LOT of things happen that seem spectacular and fantastical and a lot of things that are grounded in reality. It’s hard to say if the whole thing happened or was really all just in Marc’s head. There is evidence for the latter. I’ll discuss that at a different time. But in this run, he witnesses his friends all leave him again. It’s a way for his mind to make sense of it and to let them go. To let go of the past and the pain associated with his friends departing him. In this world, Frenchie sacrificed himself to save them and died. 

So… Bemis is assuming that the audience took in the Lemire run at face value. He feels he has to explain away the events. He isn’t trusting the reader at all. In fact, he’s even going to try to explain it to the reader.  This is bad writing. This is just… Where is the editorial team? Why are they not explaining things to him? Did they even read his script? Or were they so desperate to feed off of the success of Lemire and get Moon Knight up and going again that they just shoved whatever they could at the fans and waited for the money? 

UNPAUSE. 

So this is why Frenchie is a zombie. He’s trying to explain away Frenchie’s ‘death’.

"Undead?" Frenchie asks Marc. 

"Well, no. Not really undead. Just dead. It's all I can visualize. Like when you seen an old person and think of them naked and then can't stop picturing it." 

"That's disturbing. But I'd be equally haunted if I had seen YOU get murdered in a waking nightmare of insane asylums and Egyptian Gods. You saw it. You felt it. It was real enough." 

(Also he has his legs.) 

There's one of those comic editorial notes in the corner: To find out what Marc's talking about, read the mind-bending Lemire/Smallwood Run! - ED

#^%#$$@ YOU ED. DO YOUR JOB AND ACTUALLY KEEP THE CONTINUITY AND EDIT THIS PILE OF-

deep breaths. deep breaths... We're going to get through this. 

So Zombie Frenchie talks to Marc about what Marc saw in the asylum. 

"Losing you was some kind of fantasy. You can chalk it up to me accepting my dissociative identity disorder, or me facing my demons...But I think I needed to see you die in order to make sense of your worth to me. That's not fair to you. You're my best friend." 

So close. He's SO close to getting the run. And I get the feeling it's spouting off what he was cliff noted about the run without either reading it himself or perhaps he did read it, didn't understand it, and someone had to explain it to him. 

It wasn't about him accepting his dissociative identity disorder or facing down his demons. It was so much more than that. 

At this point Frenchie pulls off his zombie look (literally) and is back to being a normal looking man. 

And we get what Bemis REALLY thinks is going on. 

"You think too much, Spector. You can picture whatever you want in that malfunctioning cranium of yours if it helps you make sense of the hand you've been dealt." 

"...Okay." 

"Now, Marc, are you actually hearing me, or are you still picturing some grotesque fantasy?" 

He’s just using things as an excuse to paint Marc with whatever mental illness he fancies at the time. Hallucinations are apparently now in the mix. What does Bemis actually think is mentally wrong with Marc? Did he do ANY research at all? Is he just pointing at the DSM randomly and picking out things that make the comic edgy or ‘funny’??

As Marc prepares to go, a brick smashes through their window. 

He climbs out the window, dramatic style, and finds Bushman and Truth and some other guys with guns waiting on the street below. 

Bushman has the landlord (a little old lady) at knife point. 

They tell Marc to meet them in the lobby or the old lady gets it. 

Oh look. Another jab at underlined villainous homosexuality. 

Just before Moon Knight can start trashing them all, and Bushman knows he would, Raoul tells him that Marlene is on the boat. 

Oh good. Khonshu's narration is back. I'd missed it. 

Honestly, any time Khonshu narrates it's just a lot of random metaphors, over explanation, or depictions on what's going on that aren't needed. 

He describes Marc being tied to a boat surrounded by his enemies with his fate unknown. ....as the comic shows him tied to a boat surrounded by his enemies with his fate unknown. 

Let the reader read the damn comic! 

Bushman goes against orders of the Sun King and decides to go toy with Marc. 

Never a good idea and everyone there knows it. 

He holds a knife to Marc's face. Well... Honestly, it’s in his style to do just this… Props for that I suppose. 

And Moon Knight makes his way around the top deck of the boat and takes out all the bad guys,circling back around to Bushman. 

"You don't scare me, Spector!" 

"I didn't want to have to do this to you again." 

And Marc cuts off two of Bushman's fingers then tosses them overboard. 

"You can replace those, but they'll never be yours again. And next time, I won't be satisfied with a piece of you. I'm not one of those super heroes who won't straight-up kill you, Bushman." 

It's fitting for what Moon Knight did from the 90s through early 2000s. As much as I disagree with it, it does fit for those times. 

He goes below deck and finds a bunch of sad looking people sitting around like refugees. 

Marc asks what's going on and he's told that they signed up for this. 

He talks to one of the kids who tells him they are going to an island to form a new city for only them. 

Back on deck, he finds Truth. 

"Unlike Raoul, I think I may have learned my lesson in trying to defeat you personally. Besides, I was tasked with your delivery to the Sun King. I just want to help you see what I see, Spector." 

For once, Truth is pretty reasonable. 

True uses his powers on Marc and it's just... 

"I have a vision every waking day. Lovers and dreamers piled waist-deep in the streets. I wade through piles of their slack, twisted bodies. Utterly powerless. Nauseated. It's my fear of this moment that motivates me, not the desire to save lives. The Fear that I've built my sanity on a lie. My hope for a better world is my most tragic form of dissociation." 

You know... I'm not even sure Bemis knows what dissociation really is at this point. 

Truth tells him that he's ready to face the Sun King now. 

They arrive on the island where the 'refugees' get off and go to make camp in the village that they found. 

OKAY. Okay. okay... here we go. 

So... I'm going to point out something here that someone probably should have mentioned to Bemis while editing this crap. 

The bad guy henchmen are all disabled people. People missing arms, legs, hands, eyes, on crutches, or fake legs and things. 

They follow around a man that looks like white Jesus that calls himself "Ra the God '' and "Sun King". They head to a place that Bushman called an "Undiscovered tribe of underdeveloped backwards people". They take over the island for themselves and he brings in other people to populate it....

He's literally colonizing it. 

The other bad guy is an overweight drug dealing black man with possible repressed homosexual desires for the good guy. The other bad guy is a large menacing tattooed white guy that makes people spout nonsense and calls it deep truth like characters in a Chuck Palahniuk novel! 

Is anyone else as fed up with this as I am? Am I reading too much into this? Is this really not as bad as I think it is? Because…this looks pretty bad. 

Moon Knight finds Sun King on the beach who welcomes him to "Isla Ra". 

"Soon this island will burgeon with those willing to light up this shadowy world. They're like us, Marc! The sickly, the fragile, the INSANE. Society's regrettable by-product, but to me...To us... They are everything!" 

He tells Moon Knight to relax. He knows that as long as Marlene is his prisoner, Marc won't do anything to risk her. 

"Take a catnap, Marc. We fight to the death tomorrow, but tonight we indulge in a ritual." 

"A ritual you probably just made up." 

"Ra feeds my mind what it needs to know." 

"You're going to drug me, aren't you?" 

"Sleep, Marc. Tonight we become enlightened." 

So... We see nightfall and Sun King and Marc sit before a camp fire. 

So of course we get an instant jab of homophobia. 

"Why did we have to do this half naked?" 

"Shhhh Let your mind unravel, Spector." 

"I don't do well with psychedelics, Sun King." 

"It was only tea." 

"It smelled like woodstock." 

I have a problem with this. Marc is telling him flat out that he doesn't do well with psychedelics. 

Studies have shown that certain drugs can actually trigger mental illnesses that are linked to chemical imbalances. Not to mention that if he happens to be on any drugs meant to help him, they could negate their effects, interact with them poorly, or make him very ill. 

We know Marc has been in and out of mental hospitals. We know he's been drugged before in these hospitals. Forcing him to take a psychoactive trip is not a cool thing to do for the dramatic storytelling. What’s going to happen is that we’re going to get a really trippy scene of them going into Marc’s ‘messed up’ mind and he’s going to learn things, find peace or some bullshit, and then be healed. 

This gives the wrong message that doing these potentially harmful drugs will fix all your problems! Especially if you have dissociative issues or other similar issues. 

ALSO. People with DID? Not all the alters respond the same way to inebriation. Some will get drunk if they look at a beer. Others can do a LOT of pot and not feel a thing. The brain is a fascinating and complex place. Marc could do psychedelics and Jake could just be having a nice time while Steven has the worst trip of his life. 

Sun King goes on. 

"We share what they label 'insanity'. That gives me a gateway into your beautiful, tortured mind. Let me in, Marc. Let US in." 

NOT ALL MENTAL ILLNESSES ARE THE SAME. ONE CRAZY DOES NOT ALL CRAZY MAKE. 

And Marc starts tripping. 

In Marc's mind, we find Marc, Jake, Steven, Khonshu, Sun King, and Ra. 

Ra calls Khonshu a "bad boy" and Khonshu calls Ra a "loathsome fascist." 

Marc tries to tell himself that this isn't real. Jake demands to know how Ra can be there if it's "all just made up by Marc's mind". 

"Steven is distressed and theorizes that "I think we've entered the world of metaphor, Jake. ANd it's scaring the hell out of me." 

Bemis must really dislike Steven Grant. He writes him as weak, cowardly, clingy, and narcissistic. Not a fan. 

So now, Ra takes hold of Khonshu and tells him to show him the truth. 

He spouts a lot of garbage here and it just... It's fanatical. It's... It's dangerous. 

What do I mean by that? He's talking about things like righteousness. About prophets and saviors and gives images of a world under idealistic circumstances where everyone gets along because he rules it. 

Marc snaps out of his trans by the fire to declare "No... Ra is....RIGHT?!" 

There was nothing right about that crap. It makes no sense. It’s just propaganda crap. There is no just and right and perfect in this vision. It’s a problem. A big problem. 

END ISSUE. 

One more to go. I can’t wait to put the Sun King behind us. 

After all? How much worse can it get? (spoilers so much worse. Sooooooo much worse). 

ISSUE # 193

I like how the past two covers have had NOTHING to do with the actual story inside. It’s like they are trying to make it look cooler and more dramatic than things are. 

Moon Knight in the jungle? I’d read that. Marc spent a lot of time in South America. Although, standing on his cape like that means he can't stand up without falling out of the tree. Just saying. 

Alright so... Marc went on a drug trp and came to the realization that Ra and Sun King were right for some reason? 

And this broke him and made him some passive weakling for some reason? 

We see him wake up the next day and being kicked around and dragged around because "the moon can't save me now." 

Then he's taken to a tent with some old lady outside knitting and she uses her flaming hot knitting needles to burn a sun into his back? 

Back with Frenchie and Diatrice, we see her praying to "Dear Mister Khonshu" and she asks that he not let "the bad men kill my daddy." 

She asks him to let Marc save her mom so they can be a family. 

Marc is pretty broken now and he's taken to see Marlene. 

He tells her that "this time is different"

"I know. He's different. I know because I'm actually scared." 

And Marc begs Marlene not to let Diatrice forget him because he's going to die. 

Why are they acting like Sun King is some super huge bad guy unlike any they have ever faced before? They have faced WORSE. 

He's fought ghosts. He's fought vampires. He's fought werewolves. He's faced aliens and apocalyptic events! 

Some hippy looking man with flames is NOTHING. 

HE'S FOUGHT SO MANY ANIMALS (I need to make a list). 

Marc is taken to a ring of fire and tossed inside to face the Sun King in a battle to the death. 

He tells Marc to fight like he means it or he'll hunt down his daughter and burn her to death. 

They fight and he takes a beating because suddenly Sun King knows how to fight? 

He sets fire to Marc more than a few times. 

Back in the head space, Jake tells Khonshu that they have to do something. 

I have real issue with the assessment here. 

Khonshu tells him: 

"Look around us. We're just faint firings of his synapses now. His defense against the darkness. As we have been since his childhood, and...Our connection is nearly severed. He is alone now, save for death itself." 

This is the belief that Marc is "the original" and that he created the others to deal with things and gave them all parts of himself. 

This is old thinking that people with DID were just shattered and broken bits of themselves that needed to be put back together. It's outdated. It's insulting. 

Why does everything Khonshu says just sound like absolute drivel? 

Like he was TRYING to be deep and just spouting off things that sounded metaphorical. It's just bad writing. He's clearly trying to copy Lemire. 

So he asks if Jake has ever believed in anything. 

And Jake remembers Diatrice. 

And they all take a moment to bask in the glow of their daughter’s memory. 

Then we get Steven’s version of what Khonshu said. 

Yeah. This is where that saying comes from. 

Somehow this gives them the ability to punch harder? 

And he starts beating on Sun King. 

He gets the Sun King to admit that he fears him now for some reason. 

And this makes everyone happy like some sort of 1980s movie.

And the Sun King can no longer use his fire. Because 

"I convinced you. Now Bow before me you horrible bastard." 

I'm not sure it works like that, Marc. But sure. You convinced him. 

And the Sun King bows down before him. 

"Thus ends the reign of the Sun King." 

And the people in the croud are cheering? Despite being there to support the Sun King and because they hate Moon Knight. 

Later we find Marlene bandaging up Marc's burns. 

The Truth stands by watching for the boat to return to get them off the island. 

"The man's cause is dead to me. Proven false by his impotence. I would undo any affiliation I had with him. I've found the facts of life to be more...Malleable than I realized. Maybe with some time in a room by myself...I might reassess my purpose." 

Yeah sure. A man is impotent because he lost a fight with another man and now no one believes in him. 

This is some fucked up masculine toxicity. 

Marc turns to address the other people on the island. 

"All of you just got stuck on a desert island because you let yourself get convinced of a bunch of crap by a completely mad super villain."

Uh huh. So the notion of him raising his own group of followers and warriors out of normal people. Cause that isn’t an issue. Obviously these people are easily swayed and maybe a bit fanatical. So telling them that you are now the new leader is not problematic at ALL. 

Also? That “I believe” in the back? 

We get a zoom in. I’m not going to show you the image. 

It’s Dr. Emmett! 

She's in her Moon Knight cloak thing (why would she bring that to the island with her if she was there following Sun King?). 

She's covered in burn scars and missing an eye. It's drawn to look like a rotten hole. 

Does no one believe in medical care here? Open eye holes are a problem. They run a risk of infection! Also they don't just stay open eye holes. The eyelids will collapse downward a bit. 

Anyways. She's back there going "I believe... I believe! Your doctor believes, Marc!" 

And the comic ends there. 

That was something alright. UGH. 

Give me a second to gather my thoughts up from this burning dump of ableism and poorly depicted mental health peppered with racism and anti-semitism. 

Volume one of Bemis is like a love letter to the kinds of people that think it’s fun and funny to show mentally ill people as dangerous, wild, unpredictable, and overall pathetic. 

The continuous use of language like ‘Insane’ and ‘Crazy’ is more than poor taste. It’s a constant reminder that we aren’t supposed to see Moon Knight as normal at all or even sympathies or identify with him. 

You see, there is a difference between “We have the power of crazy” and “You were the only superpower I ever had.” 

A big difference. 

In the former, it’s played up for laughs. Much like the old gags of seeing a man in a dress. It doesn’t age well but it persists. It persists because it still garners laughs. And the people that are still laughing are the people like Bemis. And he draws in more people who are like minded and he tells them it’s okay to keep laughing. 

The latter is a beautiful way to show that having DID was a powerful and wonderful way to be strong enough to survive when everything didn’t want you to. 

How did he get away with this? He is Bipolar. I’m not going to argue if he is or isn’t. I don’t know him and that’s his own personal history. I’m going to argue that being Bipolar does not give you the right to assume you understand ALL mental illnesses or that you can write for all of them. Or even lump crazy with crazy. 

Marvel is the sort to say “Ah yes, this person had a drink with a black person once so they should be able to write for Luke Cage.” Or “I took high school spanish so I can write for Miles Morales.” 

We can’t put up with this anymore. We can’t let them do this. We can’t let Marvel keep perpetuating things that hurt us. That hurt others. That keeps ripping the power away from those with so very little to begin with. 

So this is Vol 1 of Bemis. 

“But Drifting Pieces” you might say “How can it get worse than this? This was pretty bad.” 

My friend… You are in for a ride. 

PART THREE: HERE

[btheleaf]

Pemlin arguing that turns into making out … 👀?

Pema marched over to Lin's room and threw the door open without knocking. "What's this?"

Lin looked up over her reading glasses at Pema and her eyes trailed down her body to the kendo stick she was holding out in her hand. Lin sighed and sat up from where she was laying down on her bed. "Do you not actually know what it is or are you just mad about something?" Lin asked flatly.

"I know what it is." The bamboo sword clattered on the floor when Pema threw it down. "Why does my six year old have one?"

"He's old enough to hold it, isn't he?"

"He's six!"

Lin put her book aside and stood to get the sword. Pema found herself staring at Lin's flexing arm muscles as she tested the weight of the weapon in her hand.

"I was using one of these when I was old enough to hold one. Your kids should be well versed in all kinds of fighting techniques." 

She switched the sword to her other hand and Pema found herself focusing on Lin's bicep for too long of a pause before turning her aggravated expression back on Lin’s face.

"He's not a child soldier!" Pema jutted her finger out at Lin in accusation. "Just because Toph taught you how to kill a man when you were old enough to walk doesn't mean I want the same for my children. They will remain children."

Lin grabbed Pema's wrist. She twisted her arm behind her back and moved forward to force Pema into a backstep. The pair came to a halt against the wall by the door. The bamboo sword was at Pema’s throat in an instant.

Pema's eyes alighted with fear for only a moment before the ire came back full force. "Get off me," she warned.

Lin stepped closer, pinning her to the wall with her body. "You'd be dead if this was a real weapon. Don't you want your kids to have a fighting chance?"

Pema's hand came up to swat the sword away and Lin dropped the kendo stick to grab Pema’s other wrist and pin it to the wall by her head. Pema didn't even struggle, she just continued to give Lin a death glare.

"My kids have an element. I don’t fight. What are you trying to prove?"

“I’m trying to show you that the world is dangerous.” Lin’s eyes darted over Pema’s features; the soft lines of her face that contrasted her sharp chin, her wide and challenging eyes, her full lips. “Your kids need more than just airbending to keep them alive.”

“Is that your opinion?” Pema jutted her chin out, conveying to Lin that she wasn’t afraid.

Lin leaned in even closer so that their noses were practically touching. “It’s a fact.”

The change happened slowly at first, and then it came all at once. Their faces slid closer and closer until suddenly Lin was kissing Pema so hard that her head pressed back into the wall. Pema pushed against her, determined to not be held down so easily, she slid her open mouth over Lin’s and pulled at her lips with her teeth to leave a mark. Lin smirked and put her knee between Pema’s legs.

Pema pulled back to look at her. Lin could feel the rapid heartbeat pulsing through her wrists into her palms.

“Let go of me.”

“Why?”

Pema smirked. “You’ll like it if you do.”

Lin released Pema’s wrists and dove in to kiss her again, this time putting one hand up through her hair and the other around her waist. Pema’s hands found their way under Lin’s tank top and splayed out over her stomach before her arms snaked around and pulled her in close by the hips.

With two moves of her arm, Lin slid the door closed and locked the latch.

[starstruckkittensweets]

“Letters to My Love” | Hanji x Reader

Fandom: Attack on Titan  Pairing: Hanji x Reader  Words: 4k 

A/N: This is a self-indulgent, completely unfiltered, messy little fic that deals with my love for Hanji. Ever since I started reading AoT back in 2015, I’ve had a soft spot for Hanji. My little ray of sunshine, one of my first comfort characters, the one character I could actually see myself becoming friends with in real life. Seeing her death finally animated (beautifully) brought a lot of feelings forward. She was brave and gorgeous and kind and absolutely amazing. It actually feels like I’m saying farewell to a close friend of mine. And so this messy fic was born, mostly unedited but with a lot of my personal feelings channeled into the reader’s POV. You can read this as either a platonic or romantic relationship, whatever floats your boat. I hope you enjoy the fic! 

Warnings: lots of angst, major character death, implied reader death, some blood and violence, struggling to cope with grief, post-war/post-snk 139 world, Hanji is referred to as female with she/her pronouns 

THIS FIC CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR AOT S4 PART 3 (AND THE UPCOMING PART 4) AND SNK 139! PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT ALL CAUGHT UP, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! 

It’s all so stupid. A stupid idea, a stupid reason behind it, a stupid man telling you about it in the first place. Why even bother with this in the first place? It’s not like it’ll help you in the long run.

But Falco’s still staring up at you with those big eyes, the slightest quiver of his lip, arms stretched out towards your own.

“Please?” His voice is unnaturally soft; it might be the lighting, but you can almost see a tear in those huge eyes. “At least try it, won’t you? I promise, you’ll feel better. Just like Dad says.”

You don’t have the heart to tell the kid his father’s full of shit, just like everyone else in this horrible world. Nothing’s left for you to enjoy, nothing you can cling to during the tough times. Those days are gone, the memories of bliss vanishing with every passing day.

But he looks so sad, so fucking hopeful, as though he still believes you can do it. You can lift this crushing weight off your chest with just a pen, some paper, and a few words every day.

“…Fine.” He practically shoves the dusty old notebook into your chest with a smile. “I’ll give it a shot.”

You’ll try, but you already know it’s a waste of time.

I’m not good at this. Writing’s never been my strong suit—not when it comes to other people. But you already know knew that, didn’t you?

Mr. Grice gave me the idea. Says writing everything down is a lot better than saying it out loud sometimes. Falco said the same thing; he still writes to his brother every other week. 

I don’t understand why. It’s not like I’ll ever send them, they’re just gonna sit in my desk collecting dust. But I told Falco I’d try for him. He’s a sweet kid, I can see why you like liked him. Sorry, it’s a habit. 

I don’t know what else to say. I guess I’ll try again tomorrow.

It’s me again. Onyankopon came to visit again. He checks up on me at least once every week. Same day, same time. It’s like he doesn’t trust me. Maybe he’s just looking out for me. That’s what Levi says.

Things are slowly going back to normal. He says it’s been almost five months since you left the battle. It’ll be spring soon. This winter hasn’t been too bad though. I miss the snow a little bit. Maybe one day we can go further north to see some next year. I know Gabi and Falco would enjoy it.

I can’t think of anything else to write down. I’m sure I’ll be back soon though.

Mundane topics. What you ate today. Who you saw at the market. The stories Gabi and Falco would make up whenever they were bored.

It’s all so stupid, but you write it down anyway. Stuff she’d like, stuff she wouldn’t like. Not her name, never her name. You can’t bear to say it out loud, not even spell out the letters without bursting into a fit of sobs. What’s the point, anyway? Not like she’s here to answer her own name anymore.

Still, you keep writing. Every day, at least something goes down in that little brown notebook. You’re the only one who reads it. Mr. Grice refuses to, says it’s for your eyes only. Falco sometimes shares what he’s written to his brother, but only when the two of you are alone. He has a little brown book of his own, same shape and size too. Always keeps it in the first drawer of his nightstand, same place you keep yours.

The days crawl by. Every breath hurts less and less. Slowly but surely, you wonder if you’re actually getting better.

I thought of you today. The kids wanted to stop in a bookstore during our shopping trip so I let them. They can be so eager and hyper when they want to be. (Why can’t they be like that when it comes to their chores?)

They both went for the bookshelf in the far corner. Books about the world; about weapons, inventions, plants, animals, experiments, I couldn’t keep track of how many there were. And the kids just sat there for hours, leafing through book after book. I ended up leaving just to drop off the groceries at home before heading back to pick them up. And when I got there they were still poring over those dusty, wrinkled pages.

You would like the bookstore. It’s on the smaller side but it doesn’t feel crowded. It’s got a few benches for people to sit and read for a bit, and there’s a café right next door too. But when I told Levi about it he got a little snippy; I think he’s jealous, his tea shop will always be superior.

He’s doing okay, I know you’re probably worried about him. His leg still gives him trouble but he’s getting better every day. He gave me a job after the shop opened a few weeks ago. Right now I’m just cleaning off tables and fixing up pastries in the back. Gabi handles inventory with Levi (she’s actually pretty good at it) and Falco takes care of the customers up front. He has the best attitude out of all of us, I think. The job is a bit boring sometimes but it beats killing Titans, using ODM gear, being a soldier

Never mind. I’ll write more later, I have to go for now. I’ll be back.

It’s really warm today. I keep thinking about that summer we spent in Krolva, in 848. You kept hunting for strange plants and flowers in the forest and had me and Moblit chasing after you all day! But you didn’t stop, not even when Levi threatened to knock you out and haul you back to base.

Sometimes I can still see Erwin’s smile, hear Mike and Nanaba’s laughter, feel the light summer breeze against my face.

I can still remember the way you said my name. I miss hearing the sound of your voice.

For the first time in a long while, you wake up with a smile on your face.

Your cheeks are stained with tears, still. You haven’t gone to sleep silently once in the past six months or so. Always stuffing your face into the pillow, muffling your sobs, praying neither Levi nor the kids hear you being so pathetic.

Your head is pounding, throat tight but chest feeling lighter than ever. You have to write it down, you don’t wanna forget, don’t forget—

The notebook is resting on your dresser. Your hands still shake when you reach for it, almost clatters to the floor when you try to pick it up. The pen leaps from your trembling fingers. The first words you write are barely legible, but you don’t stop writing for anything.

I had a dream about you last night. I can’t remember everything but I know you were in it and you were still alive smiling.

Still had both eyes, silly girl.

None of our comrades were there; no Levi, Moblit, or Mike. Just me and you, sitting on the rooftop of the old Survey Corps base, watching the stars twinkle above us. Your arm was so warm against my shoulders. Your messy hair tickling my cheek. You were laughing about something, I can’t remember what. But you looked so happy, so carefree and joyful. You haven’t looked that relaxed in years.

You whispered something in my ear, and my throat exploded with laughter. You held me close, lips brushing my cheek, eyes shining in the glowing moonlight.

You were happy, so I was happy.

But then I woke up, you were gone, and I was cold again.

Summer’s almost halfway over. The tea shop has been busier, Levi seems to enjoy the success. He’s still not very sociable but he’s learning to be more pleasant with the customers. They’ll keep coming back if he’s not rude to them all the time.

The town is expanding. Onyankopon thinks one of the nearby cities will start offering jobs, either railroad work or seamstress positions. A lot of factory jobs will start coming back too, and they’ll pay well. He says I could apply, just to keep my hands busy. Says it’s good to get out of the country once in a while.

Still undecided, I’d be going alone. Levi refuses, he hates the idea of city living, and he has the tea shop to worry about. The kids would stay with them; Gabi doesn’t like the smell of smoke, and Falco wouldn’t go anywhere without her. I can go, I don’t have anything tying me down.

What do you think I should do?

Four weeks left. It’s getting harder and harder to keep writing. I thought it would get easier, like Falco said. But I still feel that horrible pit deep in my chest. A weight that’s making it harder to breathe every day.

I don’t know what to do. I’m a burden. I can’t do anything on my own anymore. It’s always Levi or Onyankopon who’s there to hold my hand. Always Gabi and Falco to bring me back, remind me I have to keep living, to keep my head out of the clouds. But sometimes I wish I could run away. Leave it all behind. Maybe that city idea doesn’t seem so bad.

I wish you were here with me.

August 22nd. Two weeks to go.

Levi’s been quieter nowadays. Onyankopon isn’t as eager when he’s talking about the recovering towns and cities. Even the kids are more solemn than usual.

Still hoping this is all a bad dream. That I’ll wake up and you’ll be at my side, smiling and laughing like you do. Not a single care in the world.

The calendar is torn to shreds, left on the kitchen table for everyone to see. Gabi is utterly silent, a far cry from her usual loudmouthed self. Falco is quick to pull her aside as you storm past them, down the hall and into your room, slamming the door with a thud.

Burying your face in your hands. Chest wracked with sobs. Throat burning as her name rips itself from your mouth.

Hanji.

Stop it.

Your back hits the wall, knees buckling beneath your weight. Nails tear at the roots of your hair, scraping down your cheeks, eyes growing warm even though you keep them shut.

Hanji.

Another scream, you throw yourself against the wall. Your shoulder collides with the bookcase, but the pain doesn’t help. Nothing helps you anymore, not even writing in that shitty little book—

Someone’s calling your name on the other side of the door. Tiny fists pound on the wood; the knob twists and turns in vain. You made sure to lock it after coming in here.

Stop it. Can’t they see you want to be left alone?

Alone. You’re all alone now. You have no one left.

No parents, no children, no comrades…

And no other half.

Hanji.

“Stop it!” But you can still hear her name, swirling around in your head, a chorus of a thousand voices.

Hanji, Hanji, Hanji.

“Leave me alone!”

Something shatters against the wall. Your palm stings with something fierce, a shadow of red seeping from the skin.

The book, the book, where is it? Where did you put it?

There it is—right on your bed where you left it last. You’re scrambling over broken glass to grab at it, bloody fingers clutching the pen stuck between the pages. The tears are hot against your cheeks. Hurt like nothing else, not even the pain in your chest.

And they just keep on coming as you keep on writing.

Why did you leave me? Why did you have to go? Why did you have to kill kill yourself like that?

We could’ve handled it. Without your help. Maybe if you’d let us you’d still be alive with me. If you’d just trusted me—why didn’t you trust me? I trusted you, why didn’t you return the favor?

It’s your fault I’m like this now. I was fine before but then you fucked it all up.

Did you think you were some kind of hero? You’re not. Going out in a blaze of glory? Selfish asshole.

You’re not. You never were. You left me and now I’m alone and I hate

I hate you.

I hate you I hate you I hate you didn’t have to leave me but you did and now I hate you I can’t believe I love loved you how could I ever love someone so selfish fuck you so selfish

I HATE YOU

YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO DIE WHY AREN’T YOU HERE WITH ME ANYMORE WHAT DID I DO TO MAKE YOU LEAVE TO MAKE YOU GO WHY WHY WHY

I STILL HATE YOU

Levi finds you hours later. Sitting on the floor at the foot of your bed, hands trembling against your knees. The book is lying halfway across the room. Must’ve thrown it earlier.

He heaves a sigh, dragging his hand across his scarred face. And despite the ache in his leg he still kneels down to your level, taking a seat beside you against the bed. Wrapping up your hands in one of the spare shirts you tore from the dresser just minutes before.

“Brats were worried,” he finally says, and he sounds so fucking tired. There’s an inkling of guilt blooming in your chest. Such a burden to him, as always. “Said you’d run off and started crying.”

“…So?”

He rolls his eyes, focusing on your bloodied hands. They’re dry now, and he makes a sound of disgust in the back of his throat.

Eventually he pulls you on your feet, leads you to the washroom and runs your hands under the warm water. He wraps up your hands in some clean bandages; over his shoulder you can see two sets of eyes staring at you from down the hall. One brown, one hazel.

“Quit beating yourself up like this. That’s not what she died for, brat. And don’t ask me,” he snaps when I open my mouth, “what she died for. Because you and I both know the answer to that. …So don’t make me say it.”

You’re still blubbering like a child, fat tears rolling down your cheeks, splashing onto the clean bandages around your hands. Levi sighs again before pulling you in close, one arm looped around your shoulders. His chest is warm, heart strong against your palm.

But it’s nothing compared to hers—and the thought makes you cry even harder.

“I get it.” His lips are warm against your forehead, hand cupping around the back of your head. “I miss her, too.”

You’re not sure when he makes you leave the washroom. But once he does he brings you down to the kitchen, giving Gabi and Falco each a pat on their heads. You give them a smile, tears still fresh in your eyes, before gathering the torn pieces of the calendar in your bruised hands.

Maybe you can fix this. It’s the fifth of September, after all. Not a day you want to forget just yet.

I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, I swear on my life. I wanna rip those pages out but I’ll lose the other letters and I don’t want to lose them like I lost you.

I don’t hate you. You’re not selfish, you never were. I know you did the best you could as Commander of the Survey Corps, with the incredible weight on your shoulders. Your main priority was always keeping us safe and giving us hope.

I know why you left that day. But I wish you hadn’t left me behind. I could’ve gone with you, helped you out that day. We could still be together dead or alive.

I love you. I wish I could’ve said it when you were still alive with me. I wish I could say it to your face instead of writing it down in a dusty old notebook.

I love you. I miss you. I wish I could see your smile one last time. Hear your voice again. See the beautiful shine in your eyes.

Because I love you, and I always have. Maybe someday I’ll see you again and tell you face-to-face. Maybe by then I won’t be such a coward.

Hope you enjoy your birthday up there.

Every day brings something new. Smells, tastes, sounds, even the wind outside is different every day. People passing each other hour after hour, car horns filling your ears, the sting of smoke deep in your lungs; it’s easy to get lost in the atmosphere.

You take it in stride. Onyankopon is standing there, holding out his hand, ready to guide you deeper into the city. He’s offered to carry your suitcase but you insisted you do it yourself; too many memories are stuffed in between the clothes inside.

You suck in a breath and take his hand. A little awkward, with a suitcase in your other hand, and the old tattered notebook resting in the crook of your elbow. But the damn thing has already wormed its way into your heart, no way are you leaving it behind now.

A tight swallow, a soft smile from Onyankopon, as you let him lead you towards the next chapter of your life.

City life isn’t as hard as I thought it would be. It’s busy and crowded but it keeps me looking forward. No time to dwell on the past here. Maybe that’s why Onyankopon was so adamant about me living here.

There’s a bookstore here, much larger than the one back home where Levi and the kids live. It pays well, the owner’s nice, and she lets me borrow some of her own books from her personal collection from time to time.

She wears glasses too—not as cute as yours, though.

I try to visit Levi and the kids every other weekend. Gabi and Falco come to visit once in a while but Levi always stays behind. Blames it on the bad leg but we both know the truth. Too many bad memories of Mitras has made him wary of crowded cities.

But I like it. I have my own apartment, right next door to Onyankopon’s, with a balcony and a slew of potted plants. Onyankopon says some people like to name their plants just for the fun of it. The two sitting on the windowsill are Sawney and Bean. (You’re welcome, silly girl.)

It’s hard work but I’m getting better. I don’t dread writing in this book anymore. I can think of your smile without bursting into tears. For now I’m content to sit back and enjoy city life, until whatever god watching over us decides my time is up.

I promise to write soon; have to head to work now. I’ll be back.

It’s been a year since you left me. I still want to see you again.

Onyankopon and I are heading into town for a few days to visit Levi. He says he doesn’t need help around the shop but he never complains whenever I show up at his door. Sometimes I wonder if he feels obligated to put up with me. If he thinks you’ll haunt him forever if he turns me away. That sounds like something you would do, silly girl.

I had another dream about you last night. Right after the celebration for Shiganshina, the night before the expedition to reclaim Wall Maria. We were laughing and drinking and sharing old stories—but we weren’t alone. Erwin and Levi were there. So was Moblit, and by some miracle, so were Mike and Nanaba.

I hope we’ll all be together again soon. I hope they’re all watching us, waiting to see what we’ll do with this new world we’ve forged for ourselves.

I know you are. You’re always watching, aren’t you?

I have to go now, or Onyankopon will head out without me. I’ll let you know how Levi and the kids are when I come home.

Miss you more every day. I hope I’ll get to see you again soon. Until then, I’ll just have to keep writing these silly little letters. I think you’d like them anyways.

See you later, Hanji.

It’s bright when you open your eyes. Too bright, a soft breeze kissing your cheeks, nose scrunching up as you shield your face with your hands. Funny, you don’t remember leaving the window open when you fell asleep. Or sleeping outside, for that matter.

You’re lying in the grass, a bed of wildflowers sprawled beneath you. There’s a forest at the edge of the valley, close enough for you to see the shadows of animals spilling across the trees. The sun is warm on your skin, so bright and beautiful, not a single cloud in the sky.

Almost too good to be true.

Is this it? Have you finally reached the end of your line? All those days with Levi, Onyankopon, and the kids, moving from town to city for work, seeing what little of the new world you could for both you and your other half…

Has your time finally run out?

“Hey, over here!”

Your blood freezes in your veins. A shadow crosses yours in the warm sunlight. A heavy cape blows in the wind, a dark green to match the forest beyond the meadow.

A pair of wings splashed against the fabric. Messy brown hair tied up haphazardly. Shiny glasses reflecting in the sun. Warm brown eyes that remind you of home.

“I was wondering when you’d get here. It’s been kinda lonely, I have to say…”

Hanji Zoe is standing right there in front of you, looking as radiant as ever. No scars or bruises to be seen, nor the black patch over her left eye. No burns or charred fabric on her body.

She looks…happy. Safe, content.

Alive.

“…Dumbass,” you finally find your voice, rushing into her outstretched arms. “You had me worried sick! Are you hurt? Can I do anything for you? I swear, I won’t let you go anywhere alone ever again! I’ll be right there by your side for as long as you—”

“Hey, hey, hey, come on now! You’re gonna make me blush with all that sweet talk!”

But you can’t stop yourself. And before you know it you’re sobbing into her chest, arms wrapped tight around her wrist, feeling the soft b-bmp of her heart against your ear.

“Love you, you know that? I love you, so please don’t leave me again…”

You’ll say it over and over, as many times as she wants to hear it. But for right now she’s silent, her arms resting around your waist and shoulders, tugging you in for a bone-crushing hug. Her messy hair is tickling your nose again, her smile could rival the sun in the sky. She shakes her head and lets out a laugh, before pressing a warm kiss to the apple of your cheek.

“I won’t ever leave you again, alright? I’m sorry about that, I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t mean to leave you like that…”

You hold her tighter, knocking her down into the wildflowers below. She lets out a real laugh this time, hair sticking out like a halo above her head, palms against your cheeks. For the first time in months—no, years—your chest feels whole again.

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay, I promise, it’s okay…”

A comforting silence washes over the two of you. It’s so warm right here, in this little meadow of your own, surrounded by a thousand wildflowers. She’s finally safe in your arms, after all these years, and you are never letting her go ever again.

“…I love you, Hanji.”

“I know,” she answers with a smile that makes your heart soar, “and I love you too.”

[farfromstrange]

Butterfly Effect | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 1: Toffee Nut Latte

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (afab)

Summary: Michael decides to check out the new café down the street and meets a kind-hearted barista who is determined to make him smile. Or, you serve a rather broody customer that seems like so much more than he lets on, and you decide to take the first step.

Warnings: None. Some angst in the beginning, but nothing serious, unless you consider bad flirting a warning.

Word Count: 5k

A/n: This is my first time writing for Michael. This really was a challenge and I hope I managed to get his character down right, but the man just needs a goddamn break in his life. I’m literally so nervous for y’all to read this… Also, I read some fics on AO3 and I watched some more Michael edits and tried to get the Irish accent on his end as right as I possibly could. I also googled a lot. If you want to be tagged, let me know! (Also, if you haven’t tried a toffee nut latte in December, you have to! It’s my comfort drink during Christmas time.)

The sky above Dublin is littered with gray clouds. A promise of rain goes through the news and every radio station with the weather report. There is a storm warning for those in Ireland who live close to the sea, but the city is told to be vigilant for any harsh winds. And as the first raindrops cascade down onto the asphalt, the clouds turn black.

Michael doesn’t mind the rain. It’s not because he was born and grew up in Ireland; it’s mostly because he has been lacking the feeling of nature in its rawest form for years. Eight years. Prison doesn’t treat anyone well, and he knows the weariness after getting out is normal, but he can’t seem to find a way to wrap his head around the changes around him. The world is so much different now than it was back then. But it is less the fact that gentrification has progressed to the point he has lost count of the family businesses that have disappeared and rather himself who has changed.

He lost everything eight years ago and paid the ultimate price. He is still paying for it. He truly believed that after getting out of prison, he could get back on his feet and get Anna back - it’s all he’s been looking forward to for eight years, to finally see and hold his little girl in his arms again, but she is not that little anymore and all laws and rules seem to be against him as he continues to try, try and try, and yet he always seems to lose. 

Jimmy and Amanda are happy. They pretend to be, anyway. Their kids are bigger now than when Michael went to prison, but they’re still boys. Looking into Amanda’s eyes again after all this time has made all the guilt resurface that he tried to swallow while he was fighting for his survival in the dark confines of his prison cell. 

He’s made mistakes, a lot of mistakes, and he doesn’t consider himself a good person, far from it, actually, but he wants to be better. He wants to be a father. He failed to be a husband and that led to a loss he can’t possibly put into words without tearing his heart out and putting it out into the sun for the flesh to melt off while his nerves are still connected to his conscious being.

He knows he screwed up and that he has no right to see Anna again, but he is selfish and there is so much he has to make up for. He can’t roll over and die, he has to try, and no matter how badly his family wants him back in the saddle, he wants to leave the man he was before behind. If not for him, he has to do it for his daughter. He owes that much to his wife, and he owes it to everyone else he has hurt to try. 

A lot has changed around and inside Michael. He is sadder now, he doesn’t remember what it’s like to feel joy, he’s lost, he can’t find his way back, and the nightmares still keep him up. He can’t sleep. The bullet holes are still there. Every corner of his house is haunted. It reminds him of what he did, of the sacrifices he made in the name of his family, in the name of money, and he gets sick at the sight of his reflection. He loathes himself.

And as he finds comfort in the rain, he walks the streets of Dublin with a nauseating feeling of nostalgia eating through the sensitive skin of his insides because even the city itself seemed to scream at him in the same degrading tone his entire life already likes to take with him. 

But he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. He can’t say he doesn’t deserve the pain the universe and himself are projecting onto him because he does.

The rain grows heavier and he pulls the collar of his coat up to his throat. Some of the droplets get caught in his bear. He should probably shave, but he can’t find it in himself to try. 

The streets are empty. A lot of familiar storefronts have shut down, buildings have been demolished and modern architecture lines the streets. Even the coffee shop he and Jimmy used to frequent is gone now. But instead of a new, fancy business building, a seemingly normal café has replaced it. 

He stops. 

Butterfly Effect.

If his education hasn’t failed him, the butterfly effect describes the power of even the most minuscule change to have a huge impact on your life - everyone’s life, really. Everything affects everything. The flapping of a butterfly’s wings on one end of the world can cause a natural catastrophe on the complete opposite end. It’s chaos theory. 

Or, a nice cup of coffee can change the course of your day within seconds. That’s what he supposes it means. Otherwise, the name wouldn’t make any sense. An odd name for a café, he thinks. But the smell of roasted beans and sugary treats draws him in like a moth to a flame. 

The bell above the door rings, signaling the arrival of another customer. Compared to the storm raging outside, it’s cozy and warm inside the café you work at. The mostly brown interior reminds you of a cabin in the woods in the middle of winter. You’ve grown used to the noise of conversations overlapping, the sizzling of the coffee maker, and the occasional ding of the oven whenever someone wants one of the snacks from the display heated up and ready to go, or ready to dive into it in a comfortable armchair somewhere close to the plants. It’s the work-free section of the café, and it has become rather popular during people’s most stressful times. 

You have been working there for only a few months. After deciding to make a living from writing and quitting your nine-to-five desk job, you realized that money isn’t so easy to come by, so you let desperation lead you to the city and landed a job at this café that, at the time, had just opened. You were miserable at first because nothing was going your way, but you learned how to live with it because quite frankly, the place is nicer than you thought. After putting aside the pessimism, you found somewhat of an optimist inside of you, and that’s something you never thought you’d say.

The café is now your favorite place to be. It’s not a coffee shop because the main purpose isn’t to sell as many coffees to go; the place is perfectly decorated for people to stay and drink inside (and outside in summer). You get the occasional walk-ins, but most people stay for the atmosphere, and you can’t blame them.

It’s busy most of the time, there is a lot of work, and the stress wears you down and often takes the inspiration to create something outside of work away from you, but it’s not every day that a stable job comes with nice people and a nice ambiance. It’s better than staring at a computer screen all day, anyway. 

You wouldn’t call yourself ‘the norm’. You’re a mess most of the time, you still can’t make doctor’s appointments without rehearsing your speech a million times beforehand, and doing the dishes isn’t your favorite thing to do, but you have a routine. You have friends. You’re as happy as you can be, and you only find yourself having an existential crisis every two days now rather than every hour, which seems to be a big improvement that should be celebrated. You’re a mess, but you stand by it. 

Most people would have given up their dreams by now, but you have always been a dreamer, it keeps you alive, so giving up and returning to a life that doesn’t make you happy is not a decision that is even open for discussion. So many people have told you and keep telling you that you are never going to make it, but in your mind, you’re right where you want to be because that is where you can be, and everything else will come with time. 

Even the smallest changes can lead to a sudden 180-turn in your life. Butterfly Effect. The place of your employment seems to be a little too on the nose with their name. 

A rainy day usually means a lot of work for you, but you don’t let that sway you from admiring the beauty of Dublin hulled in gray in the afternoon. 

The bell above the door rings and you look up. The man that walks in is wearing a sweater as dark as the weather, but it’s green and it reminds you more of a sad field than the gray clouds in the sky. His hair is dark though, and the dark strands of his beard surround a mouth that looks like it hasn’t smiled in a while. 

He’s absolutely beautiful. 

The stranger approaches you and the air gets stuck in your lungs. He eyes the menu, his brown eyes narrowing to get a closer picture of the writing - it’s yours. You updated the signs this morning, and you paid close attention to detail. You wonder if it was too much, your cheeks starting to burn bright red, ready to apologize and read it to him, but then he finally nods and steps up to the counter. 

“Hi,” you say, your voice higher than usual, “Welcome to the Butterfly Effect! What can I get for you today?”

Your voice is like a breath of fresh air. Michael’s eyes fall on you, and he is instantly captivated by the force of your smile. It’s almost unfair how kind you seem, your little apron fitting perfectly around your waist and your hair only tied up enough to keep your face visible to the public. You’re open, painfully so; he suddenly feels like a smudge of black on a colorful canvas, and that canvas is you. Your smile is welcoming, it draws him in, but he doesn’t want to come closer. It’s light like yours that often gets ruined by the likes of him. 

“Just a double espresso,” he says. It’s his old regular. 

Compared to the volume of the bustling café, he’s quiet, but you still hear every word. There is a low vibrato to the way he speaks, and the new sensation makes you shiver. You have seen many people around here, it has become a favorite spot for people to hang out, but he’s a total stranger. And he’s different from the usual clientele that comes in. He’s mysterious, but he’s not dark. You wouldn’t describe him that way. He fits in with the furniture, you realize, and he would definitely make a cozy accessory.  

If only he could see himself the same way. It’s not hard to tell that he doesn’t, or he wouldn’t carry himself the way he does. You can almost smell the sadness radiating off of him, and the lack of a smile makes you feel almost sad with him. And of course, for him. 

“A double espresso?” you question. 

Your curiosity is piqued. 

He’s not sure why you sound like you’re insinuating something. Are you… judging him?

Michaels shifts from one foot to the other and says, “Yeah. A double espresso.”

“You know we have other options, right?”

He does. He can see the menu. His frown deepens. He finds himself taken aback by your candidness. He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “It’s what I usually order. If ya don’t have any, I can look for somethin’ else.” 

You smile a little at his shyness. He’s on the completely wrong path when it comes to interpreting your intentions. It’s not like you’re judging him, not at all, but there is more to him, there has to be. Every person has a story. You work with people every day, you’ve encountered rare personalities and yet there are always those who exceed your expectations. Michael seems to be one of those very people. 

You can’t explain how you know, it’s merely a feeling, but your feelings are hardly ever wrong. You’ve been working in customer service for a while, and it comes with a certain sense of how people tick, what they’re like, and it makes you speculate about who they are inside, too. It’s what you’ve been doing from the beginning. At first, you felt bad, but you soon realized you aren’t doing anything harmful by observing. You are just studying human beings in their natural habitat, and it truly helps you get a better sense of who people are.

Coffee is the first indicator of the kind of person someone is. Unique coffee doesn’t instantly mean you are an adventurer unless there is something about you that would suggest it, just like the way you would order it or the kind of toppings you prefer. Keeping that in mind, ordering a double espresso also doesn’t mean you’re basic or ‘normal’ just because many people drink it; it’s the kind of person you see before you combined with the order that paints you a picture of who the person is.

You brew coffee for other people and make a living with that, so of course, coffee is something you judge based on. Sometimes, you memorize coffee orders simply to get to know the regulars that come in. People-watching is by far your favorite activity. 

With Michael, it’s not just the coffee that gives it away though. The second he opened his mouth, you knew. Even though your conversation runs based on customer and service provider, the air between you and the way he carries himself intrigues you because you have to admit, it’s not often you feel this starstruck by a random man coming into your place of work and ordering a boring double espresso.

But he isn’t just a random man, is he? 

The aura that consumes him and the clouds that follow him – they’re a testament to something else, something you don’t know about but that inevitably draws you in. He’s a magnet, almost. He shows so much without actually showing it, and he doesn’t even seem to know it. Perhaps that’s why he looks so surprised at your open and affectionate nature. He’s not used to people being nice to him. A lot of people that come into the café aren’t, but he surely is the most conflicted one. It’s a gut feeling that drives you.

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant!” you quickly assure him. “I get it, believe me. But let me let you in on a secret–“ You look deep into his eyes, and it’s enough to crack his foundation just a little. 

You meet his eyes and Michael gets flustered. Eye contact has become a means to intimidate, but the way you look at him is far from that. It’s different. He licks his lip and hopes you can’t see too clearly that you have caught him off guard.

Well, needless to say, you have. The second you meet his beautiful eyes that appear almost black in the dim light of the room, you see his stern expression falter and a sense of humanity flashing through. It’s a broken, painful sliver of humanity, but it’s human nonetheless. 

Shaking off the whirlwind of thoughts that almost turns you mute, you regain your composure. “We have this new toffee nut latte on the menu that tastes best with a little caramel and cinnamon on top,” – you point to the sign above your head – “You strike me as the kind of guy that could use more than just a boring espresso, especially on a day that’s already darker than our furniture,” you say before quickly adding, “No offense.”

Michael catches himself before he can lose all of his dignity. He chuckles awkwardly, looks away, then looks at you again. His eyes roam your face, then the sign behind you. He’s never been more grateful to his beard for hiding most of the blush on his pale cheeks. When he meets your eyes again, you’re still staring at him, and your smile is contagious.

You look so cute like this, with your apron and the butterfly clip that holds your name in place. Michael finds himself smiling at you, but it’s not because he’s nervous or shy – okay, maybe it’s because he is shy – but it’s because you are smiling at him so brightly, he forgets his name and he forgets what air feels like. His lips naturally curl up and mirror your expression, and he swears he can feel the blush rising to his head. A spark of warmth ignites in his eyes that was dormant for far too long. 

Whatever you’re doing to him, it’s working, and you’ve barely talked. 

I actually quite like the furniture, he thinks to himself, but the words wouldn’t find their way onto his lips. 

“None taken,” he says instead. 

You let out a sigh of relief. It’s hard to place the expression on his face, but his smile offers a lovely sight. “Oh, good. With gentrification and everything I really can’t afford scaring off a paying customer because of a toffee nut latte that you could get at Starbucks for twice the price. So,” you say, and you once again bite yourself in the ass for the inappropriate joke. 

Why are you still talking? You were so confident, so in your element, but now he has you blushing again and rambling like a teenager. If your boss were to hear any of the things you just said to the poor man, you would probably end up having a lengthy conversation about etiquette. 

You bite your cheek and close your eyes. “I’m so sorry, I should probably stop talking now. Just pretend you didn’t hear any of that. I really need this job. You probably think I’m crazy now.” 

Michael’s lip twitches again, much to his own surprise. “That depends, are ya tryin’ to sell me on overpriced or good coffee?” he asks. 

You feign a gasp. “Good coffee, of course!” You pause before adding with a wink, “Or so I’m supposed to say.”

You should shut up, but how can you when he is teasing you so effortlessly?

“That was a joke. Our coffee is excellent, and I’m not just saying that… okay, so, I’m mad, huh? That’s what you think. It’s official.”

He chuckles, his hand raising slightly as if to calm you down. Perhaps you have started talking a little fast, but rambling comes unfairly naturally. It’s your defense mechanism.

“I don’t think yer mad,” he says.

A blush spreads across your cheeks at the soft tone of his voice. He’s not as stressed as most of your customers; there is a calm amidst the storm.

“But if yer gonna rob me of five quid for a latte,” Michael adds, and there he goes again, teasing, “ya might as well get me an extra shot of espresso with that or I’ll start thinkin’ that ya are. Wouldn’t be good for business, would it?”

His words elicit a small giggle from you. “You can have as many as you like. On the house. But only today.”

You also shouldn’t be doing that, there’s a reason you’re supposed to charge for any particular changes like extra espresso or extra whipped cream, but you’re not thinking rationally anymore. Years of customer service training seem to be gone all of a sudden.

He shrugs again. “Just one’d be grand, thanks.”

“So, one toffee nut latte?” You meet his eyes. They remind you of ground coffee beans. You wonder if he smells the same, or if he smells like the rain outside mixed with the distinctive scent of wet grass in the air. You can't explain why the thought crosses your mind, but as soon as it settles in, it refuses to leave. “Or did I get that wrong?” you ask to clarify. 

Michael shakes his head. “That’s right.”

“Okay”

He nods to the pile of paper cups next to the register. “Actually, could I get that to go?” he asks. “Please?”

“Sure,” you reach for the cup, “I can make that happen. One more thing though, and then I’ll leave you alone. Can I get your name?”

He frowns.

“For the order,” you add.

“Oh, right. Name’s Michael.”

“Michael…” His name is just as beautiful as him. You use the Sharpie next to the register to write his name in bold letters onto the coffee cup. “I hope I got that right,” you murmur more to yourself than him, but he hears you nonetheless.

His eyes crinkle in the corners from how hard he's smiling. The glint they’re carrying is just as teasing as before. On the counter, his fingers start patting a steady rhythm. “If ya wrote it with a k, yer wrong,” he says.

“I didn’t,” you say.

“Then you’re good.”

You try not to pass away from the sight of his smile or the subtle praise he throws your way.

You eye him and hesitate before moving a line lower and adding, 

“You have a nice smile :)”

You consider putting your number as well, but that would be too much of a bold move, even for you, so you leave it be. You’re not even sure if he is as intrigued as you are; you develop crushes fairly easily, and it’s worse when hot men come in during tea time and order a coffee from you. You don’t want to creep him out, you just want to be nice. You want to make his day. He seems like the kind of guy that could use a pick-me-up, and you have your work cut out for you. 

Handing the cup over to your colleague, you return your attention to the man before you. “Anything else you’d like, Michael?” you ask. 

Swiftly taken aback by you saying his name so casually as if you’ve known each other for a while and he didn’t just walk into a café on a normal rainy day in Dublin like any other person around you but that you’re actually long-lost friends, he snaps out of it and shakes his head. 

You can tell he’s not that much of a talker, so you accept his soft ‘thank you’, and name the total. He hands you the money, and he tips graciously.

Michael isn’t even sure why he does it, but then your eyes light up even more and he realizes that’s why. He wants to see you happy. He wants to brand your face into his brain with a hot iron. 

The question ‘What the fuck is wrong with ya?’ Nudges him. ‘Stop it.’

He wants to, but he can’t.

You put the tip into your jar and offer him another smile, but this time your eyes are the ones holding the playful glint. “Well, thank you, good sir!” you say.

There can’t be much wrong with him. You are the kind of person many people would feel drawn to. He just doesn’t like the way it makes him feel.   

He looks away. “Sure. See ya,” he says, and when he turns around to pick up his order at the counter a few steps over, he reads the name on your nametag and calls your name most deliciously. 

You shudder. 

“That’s…” you peek at your name tag. “That’s my name.”

He said your name. Good God you feel like such a teenager.

Did you make the right decision by writing him that note? You’re not sure, but you hope he gets your hint and comes back because he has proven to be quite something else – someone else – and you’d be damned to let that beautiful stranger slip through your fingers like any other man you could have had in the past.

It’s just something about Michael that has you yearning for more. Something that entices you and pulls you in. Maybe it’s the mystery that surrounds him or the dark cloud that you seem to have been able to clear for just a moment, but you could see the rainbow following the rain. Someone just has to shine enough light on him to make him smile again.

As you look to your right, your co-worker casts you a knowing glance. She smirks, her arms crossed over her chest. “You have a nice smile,” she quotes. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Do you write that on all customers’ cups or just this lad?”

“Sarah,” you warn.

“I mean, he’s hot, but come on! What was that?”

You can tell she’s trying hard not to laugh at you, and you are this close to smacking her in the head with the whisk closest to you. For a moment, you consider it. 

“You need to get out more,” she says. “Learn how to flirt properly. That was just sad to watch.”

“Oh, fuck off!” you say, but the tone of your voice is playful.

You know the note was a pathetic attempt at flirting, and chances are he won’t reciprocate them, but at least you can sleep better at night knowing you’ve made his day better because you made him smile, and that usually goes a long way on a bad day. 

Michael, at first overwhelmed by the sweet taste of his coffee, quickly comes to the decision that he likes whatever drink you made him buy. It reminds him of Christmas, of simpler times, and it makes him feel warm inside.

He likes his coffee strong, you took note of that. While he can taste the espresso clear as day, the sweet hints of cinnamon and caramel mixed with the warm foam and whipped cream explode on his tongue. He would have never ordered it if you hadn’t recommended it, that’s for sure, but the different tastes blend perfectly and don’t take away the essence of what he truly likes about the double espresso he usually orders. It’s different, but it reminds him of home. 

The latte itself isn’t what causes him to pause though. It’s the written words underneath his name. Your handwriting is unique, fitting for someone like you, but he has no trouble deciphering it. 

“You have a nice smile :)”

The compliments he receives are usually comments made by his family, and they’re never that special. Not that Michael would consider himself special, anyway. He can’t remember the last time someone complimented his smile; his smile had never been the center of anyone’s attention before. Until now. He’s flirted with women, he’s been around, but the purity of your compliment paired with the carefully drawn smiley face next to your note feels different than where his conversations usually lead.  

He looks over his shoulder into the café where he sees you leaning over the counter through the runny glass of the window, a lolli in your hand as you hand it to a little girl. Your interaction flows effortlessly, just as it did with him. 

The child points to the butterfly clip that keeps your name tag in place. You reach into the pocket of your apron and find a spare clip to hand her. The girl’s face lights up and you look even happier than before. It's a smile not many people have, and a power that even seems to enchant children. 

The mother seems a lot more relaxed now that she’s talking to you. Michael begins to wonder if maybe your smile is the butterfly effect and not the coffee itself. Maybe you are the reason so many people come to the café. You offer solace, a smile, and some hot coffee. It’s every stressed person’s dream, he thinks, to be served by someone like you.

The rain cascades down on his tired features, but he’s not cold. He has his coffee and he has the thought of your smile etched into his brain, and there is something about you that won’t allow him to forget, no matter how hard he tries. 

He glances back down at the note, his lips curling into another smile. If someone passed by him and would ask him why, he wouldn’t even know what to answer. Is he smiling because of the note or because of you? Or is it the taste of something new? Or maybe he has just gone insane, he’s not sure anymore. 

The short moment of relief he felt inside the café is gone and instead replaced by the familiar feeling of dread. The gray of the clouds returns to his soul, and the light you have tried to light in his heart has gone out. The smile turns bittersweet before it dies on his lips, but then he looks back at you through the window, the rain turning your face blurry, and he wants nothing more than to scream at the clouds to go away. 

Michael is too weak to fight what’s eating him inside. It’s inevitable. People around him get hurt and he hurts himself in the process. He would be foolish to think otherwise.

But then there’s you. You are a kind-hearted breath of fresh air. You are good with people. You seem like the kind of person who could never do something bad. You’re an Angel. You’re the complete opposite of him, and opposites attract. It’s a treacherous feeling and it’s dangerous, but he can’t help it. 

A minute it took for you to make him smile. If that is not a record that piques his interest, he’s not sure what is. Not that he would admit his reason for going back to be your smile or the lovely note you have left on his coffee cup. He likes to think it’s the toffee nut latte and the ambiance, but deep down, even Michael knows that is not the reason he is truly smiling. 

Coffee has become his new favorite drink and he knows exactly where to get his fix. 

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @loveroftoomanyfandoms @acharliecoxedfan @lina-mar @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella

[circle--of--confusion]

The Cardinal and the Seamstress

The next chapter is here, folks! I had fun while writing this, hopefully you enjoy reading it.

Chapter Summary: It's the first fitting! We get a special visitor. The Clergy is also restless for news on the Ghost project. Sarah and Copia share a sweet moment towards the end.

I hope you enjoy! I have been listening to "The Walk Home" by Young the Giant while writing this. I feel like it's a fitting song for this story. Give it a listen! Either the studio version or the acoustic version is great.

Pairing: (dracopia) Cardinal Copia x OC

Warnings: suggestive dialogue

Words: 2.5k

Chapter 2 - Quite a Scene? Wasn't it?

| ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE |

Read on AO3

MASTERLIST

banner and dividers courtesy of: gothdaddyissues AND ghuleh-recs

The following two days after the Cardinal’s measurements were taken are spent sketching, cutting paper, and working on mockups for Copia’s new show wardrobe. After the pattern pieces are drawn, Sarah gets started on cutting the mockups. She’s tasked with sewing the pants while Amelia tackles the jacket. In a couple more days Copia will come back for another fitting. In the words of Amelia, these costumes need to be ‘perfect for even the Olde One’s taste.’ We’re going to be here a while; Sarah thinks to herself. There still hasn’t been word of the new Ghost frontman. Siblings whisper in the hallways and at meal times with each other on who they think the next man up will be.

All day Sarah toils away at the contoured seams of his pants. Since learning of Copia’s condition, her dreams have become infiltrated with the image of a sharp-toothed Cardinal Copia. He hasn’t been able to leave her mind, she finds herself drifting off at the machine from time to time. So many questions run through her head.

It can’t be a crush. I’ve barely spoken with him! Sarah tries to rationalize is all. I’m just… curious. Curious about the whole thing. How often do you meet a real, live, well not live, vampire? In her stupor she manages to get through the line of stitching without jamming her finger under the needle. The actual stitching, however. “Oh damn. Where did I put my seam ripper?”

She saw him in the hallways while walking back to the studio after lunch on the day before the first fitting. Their eyes met and they stopped to chat while in the middle of the hall.

“Good afternoon, Cardinal.” Sarah said.

“Good afternoon, sorella. I hope Sister Amelia hasn’t been working you too hard on the new suits?” Copia looks into her eyes sincerely.

“Oh, are you familiar with “The Gauntlet?” Cardinal?” She chuckles.

Copia’s eyebrows raise. “Ehe I haven’t ever heard it put in that.. particular way but I’ve heard that new assistants tend to be put through the ringer. “

“The ringer, the gauntlet, either way, I feel like I’m doing fine for now, ha!” She shifts her feet a couple times. “Only time will tell.” Subject change, now! “So Cardinal, I heard that you are uh… Uh.”

Copia’s eyes find someone in the distance. “Oh, I’m late for a meeting sorella. Mi dispiace.” He begins to walk past her but stops to turn around to look back at Sarah. “We should continue our talk, still? Sometime later.”

“Yes! That sounds great.” And with that, hes gone. Why am I being so weird?

The morning of the first fitting, Sarah wakes up with a bundle of anxiety in her stomach. She keeps dreaming of Copia. He’s invaded her thoughts in both the dreaming and waking world now. While Sarah is getting ready for the day, the only thing on her mind is hoping the pants she made don’t burst at the seams when Copia moves around. Amelia’s new concept is a very new and bold step forward. The door to the studio is already unlocked, Amelia the likely answer. Amelia looks up from the ironing board as Sarah walks in.

“Sarah! Are you excited? It’s the first fitting! I always get a bit giddy, like a kid on Christmas.” She sets down her iron to move the garment around. “Except, instead of unwrapping something, I get to wrap someone up!” She clasps her hands together and grins.

It’s infectious and Sarah smiles in return. Some of her anxieties melt away in genuine excitement. She’s right. Sarah always found joy in seeing the look on someone’s face when she would make something for them. It would feel so rewarding to see them strut around in the thing she made! It’s like the physical manifestation of caring about someone.

Copia is a couple minutes from reaching the sewing studio but his mind is elsewhere. He wonders when the rest of the clergy will find out about Copia and the Ghost project. Will the siblings approve? Papa Terzo was well loved, maybe too well loved, amongst the Siblings of Sin. Would they feel the same about Copia?

The fitting is under way, about 30 minutes in, when the old devil himself walks into the room.

“My sweet Sisters! Cardinale! How is everyone doing this morning!” Terzo asks. There is a chorus of ‘hello Papa’s back to him as he enters the room. “Oh! A new suit, Copia? Any special reason?” he asks.

Copia’s face jerks to Amelia and Sarah. A silent plea for help in his eyes.

“Papa,” Amelia starts. “Is there ever a reason? Change is… inevitable.”

Terzo notices Copia’s deer-in-headlights look and holds up his hands in mock surrender. “I kid! I know about the Cardinal and the Ghost project. It was my idea for the dramatic exit.” Terzo has a cheshire-like smile

The sounds of a collective sigh falls over the room.

“Oh, thank Lucifer for that!” Amelia turns to Copia. “Cardinal, please to put on the pants Sarah put together in your dressing room. It’s the last thing I need to see for the day.”

Copia nods and walks off to change. The sounds of the curtain swinging open then closed. A few minutes pass in silence then he calls from behind the curtain. “Sister… per favore, did you give me the wrong pants by any chance?”

Sarah’s head pops up and Amelia walks over to the changing area and goes to open the curtain. Copia fumbles in front of her to prevent it from revealing himself. “Copia! Cardinal! Let me-“

Copia is struggling in vain to keep his privacy. “Please pay no attention to the vampire behind the curtain!” He screams.

Sarah watches on in horror. Her hands cover her face.

Copia walks out from behind the curtain to see Amelia, Sarah and Papa Terzo staring at him. “I could zip them up but they are uh… a bit tight. I don’t think I’ll be able to wear underwear in these.”

Sathanas, you can see everything.

“Oh Sarah, you should be proud. The ritual attendees are going to eat him up!” Terzo turns to her. He strides over to Amelia and takes her hand. “Bella why couldn’t you have made anything like this for me for my shows? They are… inspired.” He waves his hand around.

Amelia rolls her eyes. “Oh please! We both wouldn’t have lasted 10 minutes into a fitting.” She walks forward to inspect the mockup but Terzo follows after her. “Copia, could you walk around and see how the pants feel on?”

Terzo scoffs. “Cara, I wouldn’t even need 10 minutes! It would take me less than 5 before I would’ve had you ripping them off me.” Terzo gives her an eyebrow wiggle.

“I’m trying to focus here, Terzo. Papa. And if you don’t stop right now, I will shove some scrap fabric into your mouth and tie you up with my tape measure! Then I might actually be able do my job.”

“Amore! Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Terzo smiles wide.

 Sarah looks to the Cardinal with wide eyes, they both share a look across the room.

Amelia sighs at Terzo. “Oh, look what you’ve done. You’ve scared the children”

Copia turns around but is now facing the mirror, the mirror that is showing his reflection back. There’s more frantic turning and he eventually stops. Copia looks up in frustration. He breathes a silent “shit.”

“Mi dispiace. I will leave you now so you can get back to your hard” he looks at Copia. “work.” He looks back to Amelia.

After Papa leaves, Sarah breaks the silence with “The pants do look a bit tight.”

“You people are no fun!”

Amelia spends some time marking on the suit pieces while Copia models them. Half an hour later the suit pieces are back on their hangers with notes pinned to the fabric for the next mockup. Amelia assures Copia that she’ll add some ease to his pants. He leaves the studio and on the way back to his office he passes by a few siblings of sin who seem to have strange looks on their faces.

Sarah and Alex make their way to the dining hall for dinner. They’ve developed a good rhythm in the past week of finishing up their work and then going together for food at the end of the day; the both of them are exhausted by the whirlwind Amelia in the throes of a big project. They're midway into a conversation at their table when a couple siblings of sin rush up to them.

“Oh! Sister Hannah-?”

“Is it true?” a girl huffs. “The person who will take Papa’s place in the Ghost Project? It’s the Cardinal?”

Sarah’s eyes go wide. Alex’s head whips to the girl. “Where did you hear that?”

“Is it true? Sister Ashley heard it from brother Michael, who got a text from my girlfriend who was walking down the hall by the sewing department when she overheard Papa Terzo say something about Rituals and the Cardinal Copia was there with him!” Hannah rambles.

By now other siblings have caught on to the commotion and have hushed their conversations. All eyes are on Sarah and Alex. Some of them start asking questions of their own.

“Do you know?”

“You have to know since you were there, right?”

“Did Papa Terzo say the Cardinal would be the next Papa?”

“Aw! Terzo is so much sexier!”

Sarah snaps her head towards that last one. Her eyes scan the crowd and she spies the subject of their concerns slowly trying to make his way out of the hall by side-stepping slowly against the wall. A few turn and stand to follow her line of sight and now yell towards Copia. All Sarah can see is a flash of red fabric making a hurried exit down the halls.

A voice calls out to the clergy. “Everyone! Please settle down! Settle down!” It’s Papa Terzo’s voice. “You will all find out who the next leader of the Ghost project will be in due time. Have patience, per favore!” Papa’s words help some of the commotion die down and the siblings move to sit back at their tables. It’s a lot quieter in the dining hall but Sarah feels several dozen pairs of eyes looking towards her. The scraping sound of her chair pierces through the massive room as she stands to put up her dinner items and walk back to her room for the rest of the night. The sounds of her shoes against the tile echo painfully behind her.

Several hours have passed and Sarah can’t sleep. She’s been tossing and turning to no avail. Everyone knows who will be next to head the Ghost project. It may not have been official but who else could it be? Some are confused and some are hopeful. The Cardinal isn’t hated by any means but he never seemed like the type to lead a band.    

Sarah sits up and grabs her robe. She put her shoes on and is out the door before she can even think of where to go. On instinct Sarah ends up in the ministry gardens. A beautiful sanctuary created by Papa Primo in his retirement. She’s visited a couple times during the daytime. Towering hedge walls, bushes, flower beds, and trees as far as the eye can see and soft glowing lights above and below to light the path at night. In the distance she can see a cloaked figure but they’re covered in the shadows.

“Oh, I’m sorry to disturb you!” Sarah lets out a soft laugh. The figure’s head moves to look at her and as she walks closer, she can see two distinctly miss-matched eyes looking at her. “Cardinal Copia? Is that… Is that you? I can leave.”

“No! Please, sit.” He makes some room for her on the small bench and pats the spot next to him. “I don’t mind if it’s you. I just needed some alone time and I couldn’t take one more minute in my room.”

Sarah sits down on the bench. “I’m sorry about today. If people were going to find out, it shouldn’t have come in that way...” She looks into his eyes.

“Papa is well-loved amongst the clergy. How else would anyone react?” He pats his hand on Sara’s hand in her lap. “Cara, I’ll be alright. This old bat can handle a few odd looks from the siblings.” he pleads. “Let’s not dwell too much about that right now; we mustn’t borrow trouble. What brings you to the garden so late into the night?”

She sighs. “I couldn’t sleep. I get these moods sometimes and after what happened with you today… I…”

Copia nods his head. “I don’t sleep very much, either.” Sarah turns to look up at him. “Vampire brain, I suppose. I tend not to sleep for very long every night.”

“What do you do with the extra hours?”

“I like to listen to music or uh… play video games.” He feels a bit embarrassed. “Sometimes I head to my office and start on the paperwork I left behind.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“I’m not alone right now.” Copia leans to bump shoulders with her. “What if I gave you my number and you can text me when you can’t sleep. We can be alone and restless together.”

She lets out a small gasp. Sarah turns to look at Copia. “You have a cellphone?”

“Cara if I didn’t adapt with the times I would be living in the dark ages.” Copia chuckles. “I know our ministry operates in an old building but if we didn’t have wi-fi and phones it would be torture to get anything done.

“Yes, well, it’s just a silly idea to me that a centuries old vampire would have a smartphone.” She giggles. “It’s like if you gave a Victorian child a Gameboy.”

“Hey, I’m hip as the kids might say, eh?” Sarah laughs a bit louder at that. “I’m pretty fly for an undead guy!”

Her shoulders are shaking from laughter. “If you say so, Cardinal.”

“Copia. Please, you don’t have to always address me as ‘Cardinal’, cara.”

“Ok… Copia.”

Copia stands up from the bench and turns to Sarah. “So, shall I walk you back to your room? It’s late and you still need to at least try to get some sleep.” He holds out his hand as Sarah stands up.

“Oh, I suppose.” She mimics. Copia gives her a small smirk as she grabs his hand. The two walk back to Sarah’s room hand-in-hand. Once they reach her door they stop in front of it.

“Well, this is where I take my leave, Sarah.” Copia raises her hand and gives a small kiss on the back it. “Have pleasant dreams, eh?”

Sarah’s cheeks turn pink and she gives a bashful smile to the Cardinal. A whispered “Thank you” manages to come out. She walks into her room and closes the door, glancing one last time to Copia.

After Copia gets back to his room, he changes into comfier clothes and lays down in his bed. Sleep is certainly going to evade him tonight. “Oh, my sweet Sarah. My dolcezza. What are you doing to me?”

Thus concludes chapter 2! I hope y'all enjoyed it. Let me know what you think! I think this story will be about 5 chapters so we're almost halfway there.

[fastcardotmp3]

dot's bookshelf ⁝ JANUARY '24

december recs | recs masterlist

new year, same deal! my favorite things I read this month (not including updates to past months' recs)! trying to organize it all a bit more moving forward but don't hold me to that! my heart is full of love for fan authors but my brain is sometimes Empty mwah

Don't forget to tip your writer in kudos and comments if you read and enjoy these! it's talking to each other about the works we create that makes this fandom world go round 🩵

❄️ steddie

can't start a fire without a spark by @judasofsuburbia

6.5k | E | ex-FWB Steddie snowed into a cabin without heat and have to share a bed about it??? yeah yeah yes exactly nodding nodding etc HI. oh the sense of history and the realizing of why that history came to an end in the first place being this mutual want that they didn't realize was mutual, it's the perfect little idiots to lovers, lets get busy in front of a burning fireplace moment, you know?? yeah <3

tell me something (give me hope for the night) by @kkpwnall

7.3k | T | nothing screams the perfect steddie like losing a chance together and then finding it again years later and making that chance a reality via the decision that trying is worth it and KK has rendered that so spectacularly here. LIKE. oh we haven't seen each other in years but now we have to share a car in a storm and a hotel room with only one bed and I cannot shake that I missed my chance but still I want to give us a chance? SHUT UP. perfection.

❄️ ronance

i promise i'll take care of you if you promise to let me by @netflixnormalthings

7.1k | T | there is something so beautiful in the way this is crafted and the way we get to watch not just Nancy's restless hypervigilance in a post-Vecna world finally end up getting her hurt, but also her exhaustion in the aftermath finally allow her to welcome help. there's so much depth not just to Nancy in general but to her relationship with Barb and her grief over everything she lost that night, to the ways her burgeoning relationship with Robin is affected by all of it. I'm in love with this fic it was made specifically for ME probably!!!

❄️ chronance (chrissy/robin/nancy)

Fireplaces over Fireworks by @yxlenas

1.8k | M | a Chrissy/Robin/Nancy new years slice of life fic which left me warm as a fireplace on the inside, this is such a beautiful look into a life shared between these three women and the ways they support each other in the aftermath of all their individual hardships. like the LOVE of it all is so baked into every word and the sense of a community around them that they're able to rely on to understand them is just immaculate.

i feel so fucked (at least i’m feeling) by @starryeyedjanai

6.1k | E | more chronance i've been BLESSED this month!!! this time of the 'porn with feelings' variety which is both such the perfect lesbian vampire sex moment AND a heart-wrenching Chrissy Cunningham character study in which we get to see her reclaiming agency over her desires. I'm obsessed, I'm over the moon, I've been given everything I could ever want READ NEOW.

❄️ gen fic (Max & Steve)

Laughter's Medicine by @roguenancy

2.2k | G | it has been well documented that stories about Max getting Sibling'dTM by one of the older kids make me lose my mind and this is no exception. the study of max during this missing s4 scene, this dynamic between her and Steve as we see him be so casually emotionally intelligent in knowing how to take some of the pressure of being comforted off of her shoulders, it's all so impeccably done here and will blow you away from the JUMP actually

[jackdaw-kraai]

Everyone tagging my addition to a post about how fucking cool my little sister was at fourteen and has been every year since to say that they were an absolute cringe fest at fourteen: one, it was about my rad as hell baby sis, it’s okay, not everyone can be as cool as her

And two: be kinder to yourself. Just because you were in the awkward second stage of your pokemon evolution line doesn’t mean you didn’t rock hard. You had the whole world stacked against you and the monumental task of finding out who the fuck you were while every adult was telling you you were either acting like an idiot or had nothing to look forward to. Do you even comprehend how unfair those odds were? How unfair it was to ask you to not make mistakes trying to figure out how to be an independent adult figure while everyone who already was an adult talked down on you instead of helping? How absolutely fucked it was to dismiss you as an idiot and as embarrassing just because you were young?

You were awesome at fourteen years old, no matter how lame, because you’re now here and you survived that fucking gauntlet of never-being-enough for long enough to realize you don’t need to give a shit. The only job you have now is to not be that same jackass adult to the next batch of fourteen year olds trying to climb their own Everest that is figuring out who the fuck they are by talking down on them like they’re idiots or chronically cringe or whatever the hell the kids are saying these days.

Kids are cool. They rock hard. Probably harder than you do if you’re actually bullying the younger version of you by calling them an idiot or cringe or uncool or whatever the current trend is.

I was a lame fourteen year old because I actively wanted to be, and figured that being lame was the best way to survive into adulthood without get ground down by the boot upon my neck. And fourteen year old me was right, making them the coolest fucking lamest fourteen year old as far as I’m concerned.

That fourteen year old fortnite dancing or making tiktoks or doing whatever kids are doing these days is cool as shit because they’re earnestly trying to figure out who they are and taking joy our of things even if they’re silly or adults are telling them they’re idiots for enjoying it instead of being miserable and depressed to “build character” or some horse shit. And they’re cooler than you if you’ve become the type of adult who talks down on teenagers doing that kind of stuff and having fun while doing it. That’s some “I’m not like other girls/guys/people” horseshit if I’ve ever seen it. Knock it the hell off and start rediscovering what fourteen year old you already knew: that earnestly trying to find out who you are is a process that necessitates mortification and that anyone who willingly and genuinely submits to that fact is more mature than anyone mocking it could ever dream of being.

And if you’re fourteen years old and reading this, or just a teen in general having to figure out who you are while all the adults in the world seem to be shitting on you out of some kind of projection of their own issues onto you and yours? You’re stronger than they are already. Don’t let them fool you, they’ve got it no more figured out than you. Continue whatever you’re doing as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone and you’ll be fine. In fact, you’ll be cool as fuck. And that’s a certified adult opinion.

[twilightmalachite]

2wink Album Release Commemoration Solo Live MC Segments

Characters: Yuuta, Hinata

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Both Yuuta-kun and I’s solo songs have a strong message of “let’s keep on moving forward!”, but… Don’t you think both songs shine with their own individuality?"

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Time: MC①

Hinata: “Kuu! Chuu! Kuuchuusen!”

Yuuta: “Now is a free-for-all of rave reviews~! ♪ That was our first song, Twinkle Kuuchuusen!”

“Though I was a tad nervous about how the choruses would go since they were written specifically for the album—”

Hinata: “But there was no need to worry! Thanks to you all, it was fun to sing and it felt amazing~! ♪”

“Everyone here at the venue~! Thank you for coming to our commemorative album release live today!”

Yuuta: “Today’s live show will be ruled by 2wink from toe to tip!”

“To express our everyday gratitude for all those who support us, we will be doing “this and that” to show our appreciation~!”

“…Well, Aniki will be. ♪”

Hinata: What do you mean, “this and that”?! That’s way too much!”

“We’ll do our best to liven things up as we usually do! …Well, “usually” might not be the right word, but stay with us to the end, ‘kay~!”

Yuuta: “Now, our next song, Swee2wink Love Letter. With a love letter from us, we’ll a smile to your face…♪”

Time: MC②

Yuuta: “—That was our second song, Swee2wink Love Letter. Did our love letter reach your hearts?”

“…Huh, is it that shocking that I went out on stage by myself?”

“I took a shortcut and slipped on out while Aniki’s looking around for me. …Kidding~! ♪”

“No worries! I’m your scheduled MC appearing right as planned, here to introduce himself!”

“Anyhow, hello again! I’m Aoi Yuuta from 2wink!”

“What did you think of our latest album? Were you able to feel 2wink’s potential?”

“I made this album together with Aniki, with all sorts of our feelings and thoughts put into it.”

“I’d be happy if we could convey our growth through our songs.”

“But for this moment, please let me have you all to myself!”

“Next up is my solo song. A WAY OF LIGHT—Right now, please look at me.”

Time: MC③

Yuuta: “That was A WAY OF LIGHT by Aoi Yuuta.”

“The path you take forward on your own is steep. It’s uneven, and pitch black.”

“But I want to keep moving forward and to keep trying, without stopping. I don’t want to have any regrets.”

“Everyone, if you have a goal, don’t hesitate to take on the challenge!”

“It’ll be alright, if you work hard, surely, you will find your way.”

Hinata: “Uu~… It’s hard to come out when you’re saying something so “heartfelt”, Yuuta-kun!”

“Or rather, that’s on purpose, isn’t it? It has to be a strategy to monopolize the MC role! I can see right through you! ☆”

Yuuta: “You got me there! As a prize for seeing through my ruse, I’ll let you introduce the next song, Aniki.”

Hinata: “Hooray~! It’s not like I’m actually getting anything, but I like it when it sounds like I get a prize! ♪”

“Here’s our next song! Grasp victory, with Fighting Dreamer!”

Time: MC④

Hinata: “That was Fighting Dreamer by 2wink!”

“We performed this song around the time we held Twin Peaks.”

“How nostalgic, remember the Meat Bun Eating Contest? We ended up getting a buncha offers from big-eating programs because of that, you know!

Yuuta: “Yup. But apparently our agency said no, saying that we’re “not that type of idol”.”

“If we had accepted it, maybe there could’ve been a world where we were sold as the “big-eating twin idols”! ♪”

“...By the way, Aniki. You haven’t introduced yourself yet, have you?”

Hinata: “Oh, you’re right! I nearly forgot! Thank you, Yuuta-kun! ♪”

Hinata: “Hello, I’m Aoi Hinata from 2wink! Are you enjoying the live~?”

“…Ahaha, thanks! We’re starting to reach the homestretch, but let’s make things even more exciting!”

“Next up is my solo song, GO-AHEAD SIGNAL! Are you guys ready? Now, let’s jump on out together!”

Time: MC⑤

Hinata: “That was GO-AHEAD SIGNAL by Aoi Hinata! Did you guys like my solo song?”

“Both Yuuta-kun and I’s solo songs have a strong message of “let’s keep on moving forward!”, but…”

“Don’t you think both songs shine with their own individuality? My song is like daytime when the sun is shining, and Yuuta-kun’s song is like dusk when the stars begin to appear in the sky.”

“What do you guys think, comparing the two songs? If you liked them, let us know on social media!”

Yuuta: “And let us know how you felt about the live, too~! ♪”

Hinata: “Huh? What are you doing in that outfit, Yuuta-kun? Isn’t your turn over?”

Yuuta: “Heheh, we don’t get to wear our personalized outfits that often!”

“I figured it’d be a great opportunity to let everyone see us both wear our personalized outfits. It’s a special one-night-only service…☆”

“Now that we’ve received some huge cheers, let’s move onto our next song!”

“Please listen; Turbulent Storm by 2wink!”

Time: MC⑥

Hinata: “That was Turbulent Storm by 2wink!”

“Hmm? The venue’s going wild…”

“Oh, I get it! Surprised by our outfits?”

“This is the outfit we used for our Repayment Festival live. It’s a school event of sorts, so this is probably the first time a lot of you are seeing it live!”

“…We look nice in the calm vibes it gives? Ahaha, thank you~! ♪”

“I like the outfits we wore for Twinkle Kuuchuusen, too. We can wear all sorts of outfits now, compared to our debut.”

“Not just that. We’ve been able to release a new album, we’re now able to perform all on our own—”

“And we were able to have our long-awaited namesake program, 2×2!”

“And it’s all thanks to everyone for supporting 2wink. Really, thank you! ♪”

“Together with Yuuta-kun, I will continue to keep on moving forward. Thank you for all your support of 2wink~! ♪”

“Here’s our next song! 2×2’s theme song, Love×me⇄monsteR!”

“More selfishly than anyone else, we’ll shine on, peace…☆”

Time: MC⑦

Yuuta: “That was Love×me⇄monsteR by 2wink! Has everyone checked out our namesake program, 2×2?”

“Ahaha, that was our loudest cheer yet today~! ♪ Our viewership rating is 100% here! ☆”

Hinata: “Seems a lot of people look forward to seeing the “friends” Yuuta-kun and I call in each episode—”

“How about next time we do a “Making New Friends” episode? Onii-chan’s worried about your friendships, Yuuta-kun!”

Yuuta: “Eh~, don’t “onii-chan” me. I don’t intend to invite any friend other than Shinobu-kun!”

“Anyways, I feel those who watch our program get excited to watch each episode to see if I’ll invite someone else!”

“That’s why I firmly only call in Shinobu-kun. It’s called strategy! ♪”

Hinata: “Is that what it is~? I have a feeling you’re just making stuff up~…”

Yuuta: “You’re imagining it, “Onii-chan”. ♪”

“Well, let’s take the opportunity to all sing together! ♪ Mischievous Party Time!!, and Sugar Spice Houteishiki!”

Time: MC⑧

Hinata: “That was Sugar Spice Houteishiki! That’s it for today’s live! Everyone, did you have fun?”

Yuuta: “…Ahaha, thank you so much for all the applause! ♪”

“We’re so happy to have been able to see everyone’s smiling faces!”

“Let’s all have fun together again sometime. Goodbye~!”

Hinata: “Bye bye, seeya then~! ♪”

Time: MC⑨

Yuuta: “Thank you guys so much for the encore!”

“Everyone’s cheers reached all the way backstage! ♪”

Hinata: “All your passionate feelings reached us! We also felt we hadn’t sung enough!”

“If they want us to sing this much, we have no choice, don’t we, Yuuta-kun? ♪”

Yuuta: “That’s right, Aniki! ♪ Let’s all enjoy the final song together! Here’s 2wink, with—”

Hinata & Yuuta: BRAND NEW STARS!!”

Time: MC⑩

Hinata: That was BRAND NEW STARS!! Everyone, thank you so much for coming to our solo live today!”

“I’m so happy to have gotten an encore~! It really encourages me to keep doing my best! ♪”

Yuuta: “For us 2wink, today’s live is an unforgettable day for us.”

“We 2wink are still growing! We’ll keep shining even more, so please continue to support us, okay!”

“This was 2wink’s Aoi Yuuta…”

Hinata: “And 2wink’s Aoi Hinata!”

Hinata & Yuuta: “Goodbye, ‘til the day we meet again~!”

[ ☆ ]

story directory

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine going present shopping for the Avengers…

A/n: Happy Holidays you beautiful humans!! I wish you so much love and safe festivities x

Tinsel shone in its glory as workers climbed their tall ladders to fix decorations to a large tree on the street. Snow fall had started early this year and the city was alive once again. Despite the turbulence of heroes and villains, people flocked to their closest stores and exited with wrapped boxes and bags - it really was starting to feel like Christmas.

Clint had called you an hour ago requesting some assistance for an undisclosed emergency. Thankful that you were at the tower at the time, the journey to the shopping square was easy on foot but when there was no Hawkeye present, you guessed that he was stuck in traffic.

Buzz! You lifted your phone and saw a text message.

Running late. Start without me. Will keep you updated. - H

As you read the text, you made a note to ask him why he kept signing off as Hawkeye instead of his real name. 

With him out of the picture for a while, a head start with gift buying for the team was a good idea. Everyone was off on their own adventures this year, some on missions, some off-world. You didn’t know their exact locations but you figured that you could get some help from a certain Sorcerer Supreme on Bleeker Street.

Forty minutes or so had passed with Clint sending regular updates of his location while also offering gift advice and you shopped around.

Found an amazing green scarf. Banner or Hulk? You typed out.

Definitely the big guy. Apparently he told Bruce that he liked how soft they were. Clint replied.

Funnily enough, you could imagine the Hulk making the argument about scarves. Easily, you proceeded to make the purchase. As you stepped outside, the wind was far colder than before so you decided to walk towards a coffee shop for a warm drink and to rest your arms. 

Adjusting the bags around your wrists as they become uncomfortable, you tried to put the receipt into your pocket. You glanced up every so often to make sure that you didn’t bump into people when a voice approached from the side.

“I’m so sorry.” Clint apologised as he caught up. You paused your steps with a smile, happy that he had finally made it. “I was on my way when I saw a mugging take place. After I dealt with that I thought a cab would be quicker.”

Classic hero move. You lifted your arms to display the marvellous holiday themed bags. “My spirit cannot be crushed, Barton. I’m invincible.”

“I actually forgot how much you love this time of year.” Clint chuckled as took a few bags away to help lighten the load which you greatly appreciated.

“So what’s the emergency?” You wondered.

The man huffed as his shoulders slackened. “Christmas gifts for Laura and the kids - I’ve been so caught up in spending time with them that I didn’t get a chance to buy anything.” He looked at your blank expression and rolled his eyes. “Go ahead and judge.”

You sent him a small shrug. “I would but I was going to bribe Stephen with my homemade eggnog to use his magic portals as a personal present delivery system so…”

Clint raised his free hand, “No judgement here.” He gave a small laugh that finished on a sigh when he looked around at the people. “Navigating the busy crowds is going to be a challenge.”

“You’ve got me, what could go wrong?”

Clint smirked. “I can think of at least ten things.”

You took his arm and merrily pulled your friend onto the snowy streets. “Alright, Grinch. Let’s get some hot cocoa to warm that heart.”

While walking to the coffee house, Clint took a sneak peek through the bags and you were glad that his gift was safely hidden in your cupboard. You had created a new bow after he complained that his current one wasn’t the best for stealth.

“What’s this?” Clint pulled out a black box that looked very expensive. “An extra special something for a special someone?” He teased.

You lunged forward to take it from his palm, forgetting to hide it. You knew who he was referring to but you chose not to confirm the suspicions and tucked the item away into your pocket.

“That’s meant to be a secret. You only found out accidentally.” You reminded. “Besides I’m not sure if I’ll even it give to…”

“Y/n, if you don’t give it to the one person who actually makes you happy, I will. Got it? Christmas is the time for confessions of love or pining or whatever it is that you both have going.”

As much fun as Clint could be, you knew that his words were serious after all, even he was tired of seeing people dance around feelings. So you promised to deliver the special present as well. 

The quest for gifts for his kids wasn’t a large task because Clint knew the perfect items. In under an hour, you both had everything wrapped or boxed or bagged and then loaded into your car for a quick trip to the Sanctum Sanctorum. 

Upon arriving at Bleeker Street, you parked in a concealed area that was reserved for the Avengers. You and Clint pulled out the presents for the team before stepping onto the porch and knocking thrice. On the third knock, you both were transported inside the Sanctum suddenly. 

Clint exhaled. “I remember why I don’t like coming here.” 

You heard him but was more preoccupied with finding the wizard donning the red cloak. “Happy Holidays, Stephen!” You called out holding up the neatly bowed bottle. “I brought you some of my special eggnog.” 

Clint looked around at the empty space when silence began to fill the room. “This isn’t going to work. He’s too busy with the universe to-”

There was the sound of footsteps before Stephen appeared from a hidden doorway. He approached and saw the drink in your hands. 

“I am not the postal system, Y/n.” He told you slightly annoyed. 

You nodded and handed him the bottle nonethless. “Be that as it may, you do still owe me from the time you accidentally turned the whole team into hermit crabs and then you erased their memory because it was so traumatic.”

Clint’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, what?”

Stephen’s jaw clenched when he remembered how that ordeal only ended with your help and discretion (that is, up until this very moment). He sighed and raised his hands, summoning several portals. “Where are the presents?”

Masterlist here

[tenebraevesper]

King Shadow (The Altered Future & The Altered Character)

I told myself I wouldn’t do it. I told myself I wouldn’t touch Mobius 25/30 Years Later with a 10 foot pole,... and I still did it. It doesn’t help that, if I don’t count Worlds Collide, which I read mainly because of MegaMan, Mobius 25/30 Years Later (written by Ian Flynn) was actually the first Archie Sonic comic I have read.

Yeah, this was my first real introduction to Archie!Sonic... and it wasn’t a good first impression.

Honestly, kudos to people who like the 25/30YL storyline, but I can barely stomach it without wanting to close the comic after the first page, step back and just forget this story ever existed. So, why am I analyzing it even though I clearly don’t like it?

It is mainly to write down my own grievances regarding one particular character featured in the story - Shadow the Hedgehog.

Shadow is someone who had his ups and downs when it came to writing his character, with SEGA aiming to make him the Stock Shōnen Rival to Sonic’s Stock Shōnen Hero. While I don’t have a problem with that (and I love their rivalry), I do have an issue when they make him act like an idiot who thinks he’s invincible.

Frankly, IDW!Shadow may not be the best written iteration of The Ultimate Lifeform, but I still like him, especially since he does show to have a softer side. Same goes for Boom!Shadow, who only exists to be Sonic’s rival, but I always looked forward to seeing him show up. To me, both are certainly more appealing that the iteration I’m going to talk about in this analysis. 

So, if you don’t want to read about me ranting about an iteration of a character from a comic that has been deader than dead and won’t be continued thanks to a certain someone, you’re free to leave now. This is your last warning.

As for those who stayed... You’ll be greeted with what I personally consider the worst characterization of Shadow in any media (be it the video games, comics or TV series).

You want Edgelord Shadow? This is Edgelord Shadow.

Before I start, I need to do a quick recap regarding the Mobius 25/30 Years Later story. 25/30YL is a continuation of the initial 25YL storyline written by the most despised Sonic Archie writer in the whole community, Ken Penders. If you want more information on why he’s so despised, I recommend listening to Sonic_Speed’s commentary on what had happened.

After Penders left, Ian Flynn took over as the main writer, and his first year of writing can be basically described as him doing janitorial duty and trying to fix the mess the previous writers left behind, streamlining the story and bringing it more in line with the games. He wrote some really amazing storylines, like Hedgehog Havoc and Worlds Collide, but not all of his stories were good, like House of Cards (aka the one where Sonic and Tails fight; something Ian himself acknowledged wasn’t his best writing).

One of the stories Ian worked on was the above mentioned 25/30YL storyline, aka the continuation to the story Penders wrote, and I have to ask: who in their right mind thought it was a good idea to continue 25YL? I’m not asking that because 25YL was a good story or something - in fact, it was the worst! It was so awful, so boring, with the characters just talking and doing absolutely nothing. As for the ending... What ending? There is no ending, just a metaphor for how awfully Sonic was treated at the time, being literally ripped apart.

I also have other issues with the story, but those are more subjective. For example, it just felt wrong to see Sonic be a King, be married to Sally, have kids... I know that some people don’t have issues with that, but I simply cannot see a character who has been described as a free spirit, who doesn’t want to be tied down by anything, have to deal with this. 

As a side-note, I have absolutely zero issues with Sonic being a King, considering how I loved the reveal of him being King Arthur, the true King of Camelot in Sonic and The Black Knight. I guess it helps that SaTBK is also a much better story than 25YL, allowing Sonic to be who he is at his core.

So, in short, someone told Ian to fix 25YL... and it’s not good. I know Ian’s a good writer, but not even he could fix 25YL. I also sincerely apologize to everyone for what I’m about to drag you into. This was really painful to read.

So, 25YL (Flynn Edition) kicks off with establishing how King Sonic fixed the world from collapsing by travelling back in time. The result of it was the future being changed, though, and we’re greeted with this:

*stares numbly at the page*

I’m not even going to pretend I don’t know who did this for the sake of suspension. This is just ridiculous.

Shadow, why the hell did you set up a statue of Maria as an angel and made the Mobians worship her?! I agree with Tails here - this isn’t right, but for completely different reasons. The first page made me already want to close this comic and never touch it again, but alas, I must soldier on.

The comic establishes that Shadow is the current King of Mobius, with Knuckles as his enforcer, which just feels weird (and I always imagined Shadow to be more of a Knight than a King).

We then finally meet his Highness for the first time, King Shadow, decked out in full royal regalia and torturing an older Rotor. After not getting any answer, he leaves the room, and is met by OC!Echidna Lien-Da (I don’t like her), thanking her for bringing Rotor over to be interrogated.

*sighs*

Okay, this is King Shadow’s first appearance and alarms are already blaring in my head. I cannot overstate enough just how wrong and painful this feels to see and read. It’s like someone grabbed Shadow and just brainwashed him into this dictatorial and militaristic version of himself who just screams “I’m the bad guy!”.

You know what’s funny, tho? I actually don’t think that King Shadow is wrong as a concept. As a matter of fact, we already had Shadow deciding to conquer the world in the video game Shadow the Hedgehog (2005), that being in the True Dark Ending - Dark Mission (where he decides to destroy the world because he gave up on humanity), the Dark Ending - Dark Mission (where he sides with Black Doom and becomes his enforcer), the True Dark Ending - Hero Mission (where he overthrows Black Doom and decides to conquer the universe), the Neutral Ending - Hero Mission (where he is - somehow - convinced he’s an android and decides to take down the Eggman Empire and make androids rule Earth).

So, yeah, Conqueror Shadow isn’t a new concept, but the difference is that in ShtH, it is at least somewhat explained that he’s either brainwashed (either by Black Doom or Prof. Gerald) and/or has given up on humanity... or thinks he’s an android (probably still influenced by the events of Sonic Heroes, but not less weird). The point here that is that there seems to be a somewhat solid explanation to why he has snapped (and Snapcube has him decide to become the President of USA/King of Hell, and I would legit vote for him).

King Shadow, on the other hand, feels like someone flipped a switch. He just woke up one day and chose violence, and it is really uncomfortable to see him like this.

Here’s also a little tidbit I found on the Sonic Wiki:

Ian has stated that there is no official reason for why Shadow became a tyrannical ruler after killing Eggman and destroying his empire.

So, yeah, King Shadow really did wake up and chose violence.

So, to continue, after he talks to Lien-Da about “thanking” Rotor, King Shadow reveals how he cannot lose this world, and how he had done too much good for it to be stopped now.

Okay, this is actually kind of interesting. King Shadow sees himself as some sort of heroic figure, using his militaristic forces to stop any kind of conspiracies against him so he can keep on ruling. He wants to protect the planet by controlling it, which I think is actually an interesting idea.

Obviously, his rule isn’t going to last much longer, since King Sonic is back and ready to kick ass... and honestly, I’m seriously debating whether I want to show the next image, because it just gets worse.

You know what, screw it.

I bet you haven’t thought you’d see Sonic as a hobo. Neither was I. Nothing could prepare me for this. Sonic is just there, sitting, doing nothing, throwing himself a pity party.

This is so wrong on so many levels. The Sonic I know wouldn’t allow this to happen. Instead, he would run right up to the castle, kick the doors down and fight Shadow in an attempt to set things right... not this.

There is also a nice moment between him and Tails (and later a nice scene with Knuckles), but let’s skip ahead to the next part. Again, this is supposed to be an analysis on King Shadow, with some added bits that had personally irked me (Hobo!Sonic being the prime example), not a whole plot analysis like I do with IDW!Sonic.

After finding his resolve to fight back, Sonic and Knuckles burst into the throne room, finding King Shadow and Queen Sally. Now, we learn later that Sally basically married Shadow to bring some balance and stability to the kingdom, and protect it from his tyrannical rule (not seeing any success here, Sal), but I have to ask: Why? Why was this necessary? Like, I may not be a fan of Sally, but I know that she is a fighter, so why didn’t she try to lead a rebellion against Shadow? She did the same when SatAM!Robotnik was around, so did she just give up?

I mean, I understand that Shadow is pretty much one of the strongest characters in the Archie!Universe, but still... nothing? No resistance?

Oh, and speaking of Robotnik/Eggman:

It was hinted at that Shadow took down Eggman before becoming king. When writer Ian Flynn was asked how Eggman died in the Light Mobius universe, he said "Any events happening between the present and the maybe-future will be teased at best. That said, the original M25YL revealed that Knuckles vaporized Eggman and had to be stopped by Sonic. I figure the same events unfolded but with Shadow replacing Sonic."

So, I guess that’s answered. I still don’t like the execution.

Moving on, Knuckles gets Sally out of the throne room, while Sonic fights Shadow. Shadow easily dodges it, sneering at Sonic.

This is followed by Shadow throwing away his cape and beating Sonic up, telling Sonic how he’s old and past his prime, and how as The Ultimate Lifeform, he never ages... so, Vegeta moment? 

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

In any case, Sonic is beaten, and I’m asking again... Why? Sure, at this point, Sonic is in his 40s (still can’t believe I’m saying that, it feels so weird), but I’m pretty sure he can still fight. Hell, Shadow didn’t even use his Chaos Powers, so why couldn’t Sonic at least put up a proper fight, even if he does lose at the end?

I know that I’m just complaining here, but compare the fight above to this one:

I don’t know about you, but I prefer their fight in IDW more. Not only were they on equal footing, but this fight was less about Shadow proving himself to be superior, and more a challenge of their ideals, with Shadow insisting on killing Mr. Tinker and Sonic wanting to keep Mr. Tinker alive. Yeah, Sonic still loses (thanks to tripping on a root), but it still feels more satisfying than him being knocked down in a spin-dash, kick to the gut and punch to the face.

So, how is King Shadow defeated then?

In comes Lara-Su (to note, she’s not among my favorite characters), Knuckles’ daughter, who dodges Shadow’s attacks and goads him into using his Chaos Powers while also demonstrating her own.

Shadow throws Chaos Spears at her, which Lara-Su deflects, chanting Tikal’s prayer and using Chaos Control on Shadow, freezing him in place.

I don’t really know what to say about this. It is just... anti-climactic. Like, would Shadow really lose like this?

*shakes head*

You know what, I at least gotta give credit to Ian Flynn for trying to clean up the mess Penders left behind, but this story is just not my cup of tea. Shadow feels just wrong and Hobo!Sonic wasn’t something I wanted to see.

So, is that it? No more 25YL? No more King Shadow?

I’m sorry to inform you, but it’s not over yet. We still have 30YL and I’m still asking: why is anyone going back to this story?

I will let Sasha Cat sum up what happened:

Honestly, the expression she made about the wedding between Shadow and Sally mirrored my own. I hate it.

However, I do like the fact that Shadow is using the Black Arms logo as his symbol during the conquest. Black Doom must be proud of him.

Anyways, to sum up events, King Sonic and Queen Sally are happily married, Lien-Da and her mooks try to assassinate the royal couple, Lara-Su and Silver keep them safe, Sonic goes back into action in an attempt to deal with the situation, so Lien-Da calls for reinforcements:

King Shadow is back for Round 2! I have to admit, 30YL is definitely better than 25YL, but only by a small margin, and I still don’t like it. Not to mention, this Sonic Universe story came out right after The Shadow Saga, a fantastic arc where Shadow came to terms with who he is, internalizing how, even if he gets kicked down, he can learn from his mistakes and get back up, and formed Team Dark together with Rouge and Omega.

It is really jarring to just have King Shadow shoved right after an arc that developed his past/alternate self as a character. Like sure, here’s Shadow, who just had a moment of self-reflection, relying on his friends to help him, and here’s King Shadow, who wants to rule Mobius with an iron fist and fear.

As a side-note, tho, I like this cover. Not gonna lie, King Shadow does look badass in this pose.

Anyways, going back into the main plot, Lien-Da fills Shadow in on what happened after Lara-Su froze him with Chaos Control. Shadow is shocked that five years have passed, then walks away and tells Lien-Da to keep talking.

Lien-Da is ready to help King Shadow regain control over Mobius, but King Shadow refuses, much to her confusion (and I’m not gonna comment on the “Maria’s Wish” code; it has really uncomfortable implications), and explains how this world needs to be punished for its inaction.

Lien-Da is shocked when she sees what Shadow plans on using.

It is a glass orb filled with a green liquid, with Shadow calling out for Tikhaos. We see a shape in the form of none other but Tikal, being lonely and hungry, with Shadow promising to release her. Lien-Da pleads with Shadow not to do this.

Lien-Da tells him how she released Shadow to bring back his stern rule and to not release Tikhaos (which I assume to be a fusion of Tikal and Chaos, although I have no clue how she came to exist).

Shadow, clearly having enough of Lien-Da’s protests, asks her about the armband, which protects her from the shift in the time-line. Side note:

Ian Flynn revealed in an Ask Ian podcast that Shadow's knowledge of events in the previous timeline was due to Lien-Da's information.

When Lien-Da confirms this, Shadow just breaks it off, causing Lien-Da to vanish from existence. Okay, I didn’t like her, but this is kinda brutal. He basically killed her... or maybe she doesn’t even exist in this future?

Shadow then turns to Tikhaos, smirking as she tells her how it’s time to reintroduce her to the world. Honestly, seeing Shadow like this isn’t just uncomfortable, it’s plain disturbing. He looks like a maniac, as if something in his mind just snapped.

Tikhaos begs for Chaos Energy, which Shadow is happy to supply, removing his Inhibitor Ring and not caring anymore when he’s told that King Sonic has retaken the castle.

“Let him have it. It does him no good now.”

He forcefully feeds Tikhaos more energy than she can handle, with the echidna mooks running away when they realize that King Shadow is going to destroy them all, while Shadow remains calm, completely serene.

Again, I’m actually disturbed by this behavior. Are we sure that Black Doom hasn’t brainwashed him somehow?

Anyways, Tikhaos has turned into a complete monster resembling Perfect Chaos and is attacking the city, leaving Sonic and co. to deal with her. As for King Shadow:

He apologizes to Maria for what he has done. He tried to lead by example, but when they didn’t see it, he tried to lead by force. He was rejected. He wanted to bring peace, but the world demanded chaos, so he’ll let Tikhaos ravage the world, wash it clean and let it suffer... and when they learned their lesson, he will return to lead them to peace he desperately wanted for them.

Absolutely not a fan of this. It feels so forced, especially since the last Sonic Universe arc was about Shadow moving on. I love Ian Flynn’s writing, but this is one of the worst stories I’ve read that he had written.

And this is also the last we see of King Shadow.

Honestly, I’m glad Worlds Collide happened and changed the universe. I really didn’t want to see more of this. Not to mention, Post-SGW!Shadow is a real treat.

So, King Shadow? What are my thoughts on him now after re-reading the story?

Honestly, he’s a good concept, but the execution is awful. Even though Shadow as a conqueror exists in the Shadow the Hedgehog video game, we still know that those paths aren’t canon to the main story. The Shadow we know is a protector of the world, but he wouldn’t go this far to protect it, becoming a villain. King Shadow really comes off as unhinged and his personality switch feels like it came out of nowhere.

Again, if you like this story, more power to you, but I don’t. To me, this is the worst Shadow has ever been written. It just feels so unnecessary, so wrong... and I’m glad it doesn’t exist anymore.

If you guys want my thoughts on how I would write a King Shadow story, leave a comment and I might write down the concept for it.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to watch Sonic Prime. I need to clear my mind of what I just read and I just want to see Shadow trying to save the world without being a villain.

EDIT: Here’s my own take on the King Shadow storyline:

#King Shadow (The Alternate Story)

An alternate take to the Light Mobius story:

Isekai'd As My Past Self (Sonic the Hedgehog AU Story)

#Sonic the Hedgehog Analyzer (Masterlist)