#just a completely normal family portrait

[yaksha-lover]

Malleus Draconia and the Cognitive Dissonance of being a Lonely Prince

A character analysis exploring Malleus’ conflicting views of self

Malleus has two primary characteristics that are significant to his identity: (1) His role as a highly revered, feared, and praised mage & prince and (2) His loneliness and social/emotional isolation.

In Malleus’ concept of identity, these two characteristics are in conflict with each other, despite one somewhat being caused by the other. How can a person reconcile the fact that they are supposedly extraordinarily special, talented, attractive (this is canon in universe btw lol), intelligent, beyond powerful, etc. - essentially a perfect prince - with the fact that they have no friends and barely anyone who cares about them (excluding those he feels are obligated to care)?

Malleus has no strong emotional connection with anyone that is not his family (I include Lilia in this category) or one of his guards (who, in spite of Sebek’s protests, is basically obligated - socially or role wise - to respect and love him). Now, I don’t think any of these relationships is obligatory or disingenuous in any way. Lilia, Silver, and Sebek all genuinely love and care for Malleus. However, I’d argue that isn’t how Malleus sees it (I’ll get into this later).

First, I wanna go into the first characteristic I mentioned, him being revered (+feared) because of his status and capabilities.

Before I even get into him as an individual, let’s look at how Malleus himself perceives the mere status of royalty:

Malleus believes (I suppose because of his personal circumstances) that people who are royalty inherently deserve respect. He even extends this to Leona, who he has a (playfully?) hostile relationship with. I don’t think there’s canon indication that this necessarily means he looks down on people of non-noble birth or anything, but he’s still stuck on this idea that, in certain respects, royalty does deserve better than the average person.

Clearly, this would extend to himself as well. Part of his self-image is kind of decided from birth (in an interesting parallel to Leona who believes that his own status as a second son decides his fate from birth) because he is raised in this environment where he is constantly told that he is better than others, simply because he is a prince.

That said, Malleus takes being royalty and a leader very seriously. I’d argue he believes that because he is ‘better’ than others, he has certain responsibilities and duties that he must complete, as shown above.

Part of this also means that Malleus takes himself very seriously - he isn’t allowed to even try to be normal, because he always has to keep himself in check. Anything he does will reflect poorly upon himself and his family, and this is something Lilia reminds him of.

Here’s where I’ll talk about Malleus’ relationships with the rest of Diasomnia.

Now, Lilia is clearly the person who treats him the most casually and normally. He knows Malleus very well, to the point where he can read his emotions - namely his jealously/bitterness/frustration after being left out of something.

Lilia encourages Malleus the most to try and have normal experiences. He understands Malleus’ loneliness, and wants him to make friends - to seek out more than he could have all alone in his castle. But, Lilia also has times where he acts as more than a mere guardian to Malleus. I can’t find the screenshot, but I remember Lilia reminding Malleus about what behaviour is and is not befitting of an heir, so that aspect of their relationship is still something to take note of. Even Lilia, who understands him better than anyone, still must wish for him to be the best heir and prince (sometimes sacrificing his own wants, although Lilia probably does this the least considering he knows Malleus’ feelings).

It’s no exaggeration to say that Sebek worships Malleus to the highest extent (just look at the portrait of him in his room). The way Sebek talks about him isn’t at all like a friend or even family - Malleus is a god to him. I argue that Sebek’s behaviour specifically (he would cry if he knew this) distances him the most from Malleus emotionally.

This will be explored more later on, but what Malleus wants is to be treated somewhat normally, at least by a few people he can be close with. Sebek does the opposite of this. While the students who are scared of Malleus isolate him because of their fear, Sebek actually accidentally isolates him because of his dedication and worship. Thus, both Sebek and others isolate Malleus through their treatment of him because of his position/status/strength.

Malleus certainly cares for Sebek, but I don’t believe he thinks of him as a genuine friend (and that’s not meant as a way to dismiss the relationship they do have, just that he doesn’t view Sebek as caring about him as a person rather than him as a prince/mage). How can he, when Sebek constantly acts like a fanboy around him?

Now let’s look at Malleus and Silver.

Silver addresses Malleus as either ‘housewarden’ or ‘master.’ Again, to my previous point about Sebek, I think this does point to Silver and Malleus’ relationship not exactly being a friendship. However, I think differently to Sebek, Silver does have more of a personal relationship with Malleus.

He treats Malleus with respect and formality, but he isn’t over the top with it. I’d argue they have a sort of ‘mentor-student’ relationship in a way; not exactly that, but you understand my point. Silver looks up to Malleus as a person, and Malleus is willing to teach Silver about things. I almost want to say they’re a bit like a younger and older sibling, but I think a bit of the closeness/familiarity is lacking (at least for now). The relationship still has a bit of a formality to it, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t personal. I won’t spoil for those who haven’t read book 7, but I think their relationship becomes more clear there, iykyk.

I know most of Malleus’ vignettes are played for a joke, but holy shit they make me sad. You can tell that ever since he enrolled, if he wasn’t sharing a class with Lilia, Malleus has basically had to work alone for everything. Even here, Cater is only asking Mal if he wants to join his group so he can use Malleus for Magicam clout. Everyone is so scared of him that he’s never had a partner and he’s even gotten used to it. It might not seem that serious, but honestly - sorry to be crude - this kind of thing does fuck you up, especially while growing up.

Think about how Malleus feels - being the outcast and genuinely having no friends feels humiliating and depressing. It makes you think there’s something wrong with you, and that’s the way I choose to interpret the other aspect of his character. His passive acceptance to social isolation and rejection is a constant among his vignettes - anytime someone brings this up, he’ll say it’s fine and he’s used to it.

Another relationship worth noting is Malleus’ grandmother - his only living blood relative. Something that stood out to me (and I could be reading too much into this) but Malleus really feels surprised that his grandmother would take time to write her only family member a happy birthday letter?

That’s very sad to me, and I think it’s a reflection of both the expectation Malleus feels is placed on them as royals and his feeling that he as an individual (not as a prince) is inherently less important than any royals duties. He seems to think this way about himself too, treating his princely duties as always more important than anything he would want personally. A letter is a small gesture, and Malleus doesn’t even expect that from his grandmother.

I’ll use this to segue to discussing Malleus’ insecurity and social isolation.

Ever since he was a child, Malleus has been isolated from others. Before he was feared and before he was worshiped, Malleus was lonely. That’s clear to anyone. Now, I want to talk about how this loneliness and isolation has affected his self-image.

Examining his personal relationships, how the rest of the school sees him, and his own views on royalty and himself, I think it’s clear Malleus, on one regard, seems at first glance to think highly of himself. He isn’t arrogant or boastful. Rather, he just is very extraordinary in many aspects.

But, that surface level interpretation completely leaves out the other side of him. While he might excel in skills, Malleus fails on all regards in terms of relationships. It’s clear, no matter how much he says he doesn’t care or that he’s accepted it, that it hurts Malleus every time he is excluded from something.

He tries to hide that he’s upset that he missed the orientation ceremony, but Lilia remarks that it’s clear how jealous he is that Sebek got to attend. When Lilia reminds him that there’s always next year, Malleus immediately dismisses the possibility that he will ever be invited. In his birthday vignette, he states that he hates eating entire cakes and becomes upset when Yuu brings up the fact that they aren’t meant to be eaten alone because he knows. He knows just how lonely and isolated he is compared to everyone else and he hates.

Malleus has mostly given up and accepted that he will ever fit in. He is pessimistic, but to say he does not hope isn’t entirely correct. Later in the vignette, although he may be half-joking, Malleus remarks that Leona may have stopped by to invite him to a party - he’s even excited by the prospect. And again, he is let down. Leona even taunts him spot-on for his greatest insecurity (isn’t he just so dreamy?).

Now, while this does offend Malleus to a degree (see their catfight where he basically threatens to declaw Leona), I get the feeling that this kind of interaction with someone who views him as an equal (or at least, isn’t intimidated nor awed by him in the slightest) is probably pretty refreshing for Malleus. In a way, you get the sense that he enjoys that back and forth with him, because this goes back to Mal’s wish to be accepted and have friends to talk with.

Anyway, to return to my main point: Malleus’ deep loneliness and failure to fit in has likely caused some deep rooted feelings of insecurity (Note: I want to make a separate post on this because it’s kind of a lot, but I think this also contributes to his anxious attachment style). Malleus likely feels unwanted, despite all the great things about him that make people like Sebek fanboy over him.

No matter how powerful Malleus becomes, no matter how many people worship him, Malleus will always feel worthless deep down because no one will accept him for who he is.

The kind of insecurity and loneliness that pervades your life for years and follows you around everywhere isn’t something you can just shake off. No matter how much he tries to reassure himself that he is enough, he’ll never quite be able to quiet the voice in his head telling him that he is wanted by nobody and that he deserves nothing, that things are this way because he is not worth loving.

To conclude, how can Malleus reconcile these two sides of himself - the parts that know he is something great (worthy of worship and praise, even) and the parts that tell him he is worth nothing? Both sides are so extreme, people worship him but almost everyone avoids him. I feel that’s something Malleus must struggle with a lot - trying to hold on to the view of himself as a good prince while feeling that slip away when he becomes emotional.

Thanks for reading if you got this far! Let me know if you disagree or think I got anything wrong, this is just my thoughts and my opinions and I’m open to changing them :)

[obsessive-valentine]

How would Dark-Yandere!Farmer react to finding reader taking Polaroid photo shoots of his retired senior dogs in silly clothing like sunglasses, hair clips, etc. Btw love your writing keep up the good work!🫶🏼

Dark-Yandere!Farmer x GN!Reader

TW - Readers def developing Stockholm Syndrome or something of the sort, nothing else though this fix is sweeter as an apology for the intense one last time about reader being punished. This was meant to be a qick paragraph or two as an answer but I got to deep into lore and this sweet scenario as it’s a side of him we don’t see much. Thanks for the idea glad you’re liking this blog❤️

I’ll proof read later

You’d expressed an interest in his old cameras after he let you rummage through a few boxes he’d stored away. In a box he’s got a old digital camera a Polaroid one and then a really fragile one that’s much older than the rest, you didn’t dare pick it up in fear it would fall adapt just by touch. Then at the bottom of the box, a few images, some developed film some printed. You recognised him in some home images or family portraits, he looked like a happy kid with a cheesy grin sometimes even pictured on this very farm but most of them look to be taken in a small town house.

It’s weird to imagine at one point he was just a normal kid, living a normal life, photos of him blowing out candles on his birthday or with some older family members reminded you that no ones born ‘bad’. Makes you wonder why he’s the way he is now, what happened?

A part of you wanted to take one of those sweet images of him as a child and hide it away, to uncover and re-remind yourself he’s not a living monster but a human and a kind one at times. To ground yourself when he gets angry and all you can see him as is a living demon. To set the aspiration that if he was once so -he can be again.

You recognised a woman from the images as his mother because he kept a image of her in the bedside draw, she looked loving and kind. But he’d never talk about her, answering your careful questions about her with “she was a good mother” or “she was an admirable woman” he seemed emotionally withdrawn about it so you didn’t push it. You figured since she’s dead he’s just remembering her face.

The rest of the pictures seemed to be from the building of this farm, dated on the back in scruffy hands writing, maybe by his father or grandfather. You could look through this pile of history for hours, not just to learn more about your captor but about the history of this place and the his family that he’s so reluctant to talk about.

The ladder to the attic creaks behind you and his distinct heavy boots land with a thud and groan on the ladder steps “what’s got you so occupied up here?” You felt like you’d been caught looking in something you shouldn’t have despite having permission “j-just these cameras, I had a polaroid camera once” you turned to him showing him the old camera, he now off the ladder and standing over you.

“Hmm, old thing -maybe older than us” he gently took it from you hands to inspect it “probably still works if you want it, not any use just sitting up here” he hands it back “thank you” you reply with a smile he waves you off and crouches down beside the box with you. He shuffles through it completely ignoring the images from his past and he rummages in search of something “No film stacks though, I’ll pick some up from town next time”

“Really?” You look over at him in excitement, he shrugs “sure” he stands up ready to head back down stairs “had I known you’d be so happy I’d have gotten you one sooner” he chuckles at your excitement over something so small.

To you it’s much more than a old camera to take up some free time when you get bored. It’s yours, you can control it, keep it for your own. You don’t have much things that’s yours anymore but the collections growing.

...

You’d basically forgotten about getting film for your camera as a week or two had passed. But he hadn’t, he returned to the truck once again being one of may shops he had to stop at. But this time he didn’t have heavy bags of stock or material and tools for the farm but just 3 small boxes that he could carry in just one hand.

He sat down in his seat and extended his hand to give you the boxed, you furrowed your brows in confusion until you read one of the box’s. A big smile plastered you face when you got to the word ‘film’ “that should be enough to last you a long while” “thank you” you grinned giving him a quick hug out of appreciation.

Once you both pulled into the driveway of the farm you had already thought up many picture opportunities, and you couldn’t wait to get to it. The car parked and he gave you the go ahead “You can finally get to your photography, take some pretty pictures” you practically ran to the house to retrieve the camera.

...

You’d been in the house for a hour or two at this point and he’d began to get a bit concerned, usually you’d come outside now and then or spend the afternoon in the barn playing with the animals. But no sign of you. He put the final nail into the fence he was fixing and decided to come check on you.

He got to the front door and could hear you laughing before even opening it “good boy Berty, you’re so handsome” his curiosity peaked at those words, he quietly made his way to the room you and presumably Berty the elderly farm dog was in and observed from the door frame.

There you sat, infront of Berty whose dressed up in various items and fabrics mimicking clothes. The camera clicks and your silent as you watch it develop, Berty still sits patiently. “We got the picture, look at how dapper you look” you praise him and he gets exited leaving all the items fall off his as he runs up to you to get pet.

“When I said pretty pictures I was envisioning landscapes or with artistic vision” he jokes still standing in the door way unable to not smile at such a bizarre but cute sight. You stand shocked for a moment, he’s not one to creep up on you, it when you see his amused smile you loosen back up. “This is artistic vision, and Bertys my muse, look at how handsome” you joke and show him the photo “it’s something alright” he almost laughs out.

“Hey, this is worthy of a museum, the composition the choice of colours the muse, it all tells a story” you continue to joke, he just shakes his head unable to wipe away his smile “as long as your happy, I guess” “I am, thank you again” moments like this you forget everything you went though and are able to exist in ignorance.

Those moments are becoming more frequent now especially since he’s began to become more relaxed, he wasn’t as authoritarian anymore, your sure if you pushed it he wouldn’t have a 2nd thought of going back to the way things were. There’s always that lingering threat but it’s not as pronounced anymore. You’re starting to see the love he has for you, sometimes unconventional and deranged possessiveness but moments like this, seeing him smile and joke you can delude yourself into believing he’s a normal partner.

He brings you in closer by the hips “you’re so cute” his grin is akin to the little boy in those pictures, you’ve seemed to restore a part of his childish cheer. He pecks your lips “I bet the barn animals are missing you, maybe you should take this photography session to them, I’m sure they’ll appreciate the attention”

And that’s what you did, dressed up the chickens though they didn’t stay still -the cows were great models -but a few animals tried to eat the accessories and clothing which made things harder. The farmer got less work done than normal that afternoon as he found it quite amusing and cute watching you through the cracked barn door trying to wrestle a bow onto a goat.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

@mysral this is your fault

Vaggie  s l o w l y  putting together the pieces of her strangely un-demon-y rescuer’s identity together as she recovers from multiple traumatic amputations in the MANSION this random demon lady brought her back to,

while Charlie (who assumed vaggie knew who she was) (and then Panicked when she realized vaggie did Not Know) frantically runs around her home throwing blankets over incriminating stuff, trying to not freak out the new friend she found dying in garbage-

later she takes Vaggie on a little stroll down a hallway (once Vaggie's capable of like, standing without flopping over) (arm in arm) (so Vaggie doesn't just flop over)

and they walk along in companionable silence for a bit until...

Vaggie: "So.... Miss Morningstar, huh? Sure fits you better than your old man."

Charlie: "(bleats in startled goat noise) HOW DID YOU- I mean, pfft! It's not that big of a- I mean I'm only the third most important- well the second now? With mom gone? But-!

Charlie: (gives up) Yes, that's me. Princess of hell. For all the good THAT does."

Vaggie: "Hey, you're doing a good job, princess. You're at least not letting some random stranger die of her wounds next to dumpster."

Charlie: "Thanks. (sighs) Can you keep calling me Charlie? Please?"

Vaggie: "Charlie. I can't feel my arm you're holding on so tight."

Charlie: "SORRY!"

Vaggie: "And now you've let go completely, I'm falling."

Charlie: "Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry-"

Vaggie: "I can barely stand. Okay? I'm not, running off anywhere anytime soon or whatever."

Charlie: "Okay. Right."

Charlie: “…”

Charlie: "…And the whole princess of hell thing doesn’t freak you out?"

Vaggie: "Nope."

Charlie: "Not even a little?

Vaggie: "I'm more freaked at being found by the one decent person in hell, to be honest."

Charlie: "But the me being princess thing disappointed you, maybe? Thought I'd be taller or something?"

Vaggie: "You? Tall-er? Yeah no. I get neck pain looking up at you already."

Charlie: "I could hunch down!"

Vaggie: "And what, join me in neck pain? You'd have to fold yourself in half to get on eye-level with me, Charlie."

Charlie: "I could do that! I'm very foldable!"

Vaggie: "You're a sweetie. No."

Charlie: "Heheh."

Charlie: ".... how did you find out though? I thought I'd covered-"

Vaggie: (points up at the GIANT FAMILY PORTRAITS of Charlie and the king and queen of hell LINING THE WALLS OF THE HALL THEY'RE WALKING DOWN)

Charlie: "-everyyyyythhhh oh FOR FUCKS SAKE-"

Vaggie: "Nice emo phase, by the way."

Charlie: "SHIT!!!"

Vaggie: "Aw. I think you were cute.”

Charlie: “(distressed goat sounds) Can we just… steeeer ourselves and the conversation down a less embarrassing hallway..?

Vaggie: “Is that you as a baby?”

Charlie: “You know what that’s enough exercise for one day I think you need rest.”

Vaggie: “Is baby you chewing on a-”

Charlie, walking quickly: “Rest!”

then there's Vaggie, ten minutes later, left alone while Charlie- THE PRINCESS. OF. HELL.- runs out to get more bandages and pain killers for her. like this is normal. like this is not a thing to freaked out about

"SHIT!!!!!!"

vaggie's gonna freak out about it a little, tho.

[alcinas-big-ass-simp]

~ Your Lady Dimitrescu's fourth daughter + The sibling of the Dimitrescu sisters ( Your a hive mind of fruit flies ) ~

Note: obviously like the title says your Lady Dimitrescu's fourth daughter and you're made of fruit flies- This just randomly came to me and I thought it would be really cute dhshdhs + this is how Lady Dimitrescu and her three daughters would treat you as their New kid / new younger sister!

Honestly you guys maybe not like this but I have too- to satisfy my cravings for this-

• I don't even think you want to know how you got in this predicament—

• But anyways when Mother Miranda was creating you, she hoped for a different outcome or a better outcome then the other experiments she has done with blowflies. Because fruit flies are smaller and they only eat fruit, maybe that will give her a better result!!

• Nope. You came out exactly the same as the other blowfly experiments that she has done in the past, you came out a bit smaller at 5 feet and 4 inches and you only have a craving for fruit. She should have honestly guessed that this would happen but now she has a girl that is made of a hive mind of fruit flies-

• Yeah, we should have guessed this but she instantly told Lady D to take care of you and write down the progress of your development like she has with her other daughters.

• But now you are going to live with the Dimitrescu family..

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• When she first met you and got told that she will be taking care of you by Mother Miranda, her motherly instincts instantly went off! Just looking at your confused small quivering form made her dead heart ache,,, but she had to stay calm in front of Mother Miranda- So she just kept her cool and acted normal until Mother Miranda left

• When Mother Miranda left, she couldn't act calm any longer and instantly picked you up in her arms like one would do with a cat that they simply adored. She couldn't help herself! You are so so tiny compared to her daughter's and her, she can probably hold you with one hand from how small you are! She swore from this day on she will protect you with her life

• From that day you officially became the baby of the family! And Alcina is so so overprotective of you because of it, she is so scared to even let you go outside because of how small you are and that you know nothing about defending yourself in this new form! You are completely vulnerable to any hunters or robbers and she simply cannot have that!!

• Even if you get a small injury like a scraped knee or something, she will be all over you for weeks- she's so scared of something happening to you and so the way she combats her worry is holding you like a baby until you get better- she will legit carry you around the house like a baby in her arms for weeks, she only puts you down when you need to eat and do your business-

• But besides her being really overprotective of you, she's really affectionate too! Since her daughter's are older now and everything, they don't need to be babied as much as they used too and spend a whole bunch of time with her like they did when they were new here!

• But now you're here!! Your new and confused with your new form + cravings- And She is willing to teach everything you need to know about your new form + everything! She's so excited to have you around, maybe with you around she won't be kind of lonely anymore—

• And like I said she's really affectionate! She loves to have you snuggled up into her side when she doing paperwork for her wine business or anything else, she loves being with her new baby!! She's willing to stop anything if you come to her wanting cuddles or anything affectionate- She simply can't miss an opportunity to be with you!

• Btw she is going to get a painter to paint so many portrait of you, she does not care how much it cost—

• Oh oH OH- When mother introduced you to her saying you will be her new younger sister now, she was kind of skeptical at first but you're so small and weak- And she knows mother won't bring in someone that can possibly hurt them. She trusts her mothers instincts!

• After all that was said and done, she quickly grew attached to you! You're her younger sister after all and it's her job as the oldest sister to help you!! And she takes this job very seriously- She wants to be the one to teach you about your new form and Cravings since she read a book on almost every type of fly when she was researching one day.

• So obviously she should be the best choice to teach you these things! And she does! She has you sitting on her lap as she's sitting on her chair reading to you more about fruit flies and type of healthy fruit for fruit flies but she can get kind of feisty when anyone dares interrupts this moment between you two.

• She takes her job as you older sister very seriously like I said! So if you ever feel sad or stressed or maybe you're confused about something, she instantly wants you to come to her since she wants to be the one to teach you and after you overcome your problem she will praise you like no other- So many praises coming out of her mouth as she snuggles you closer into her chest

• But if she's doing something and you need her you're going to have to wait a couple minutes, she loves you but she needs to get this done first— But after she's finished with what she's doing she'll gladly do whatever you have planned in mind as long as it's safe or if you just need advice!

• And if you need to take a break from the other siblings, her room is always open for you to chill in! She loves you a lot and she knows how it can be overwhelming sometimes but surprisingly, her behavior is the calmest out of the siblings when it comes to you-

• Flat out going to say this, she did not trust you for like a good 2 weeks— You were not on her good side for some unknown reason, Bela and Daniela had to make sure Cassandra wasn't going to try to kill you or something-

• But in reality Cassandra was just making sure you were not a threat in disguise! So she just simply watched from a far for 2 weeks just to make sure- But she did find it quite cute how's the rest of the family interacted with you, it made her feel some things too

• After the time period of 2 weeks, from your perspective she completely changed as a different person- she was cold, mysterious and would always watch you from behind to teaching you how to defend yourself, cuddling with you on her bed and being very very overprotective of you like Alcina—

• After seeing how defenseless and weak you are, she couldn't help but want to train you how to defend yourself at least a little bit! It's just in case but like- I mean- You always have your sisters or mom around to protect you so it's kind of pointless in the end- But she finds it very fun to teach you cuz she can rant about techniques for hours and no one in the house will listen to her except for you-

• Tho sadly she can't teach you the cool and difficult moves because Alcina won't allow it because of your small frame and she just doesn't want you to get hurt- But that's okay, Cassandra can just have you watch her as she does the cool and difficult ones! She does like having a little hype girl cheering her on as she trains

• And you should have guessed it, she loves cuddling! Specifically on her bed! Her bed is her comfort place and somewhere where she feels like she doesn't have to be all big and confident in front of everyone, so it really helps her relax to cuddle with you in her bed!

• Oh my black god— When she saw you and got told you will be her younger sister, she squealed! She was so happy, she always wanted a younger sister and someone to take care of! It was like her prayers have been answered! She was all over you and loving up on you

• She was very very excited to get to know you and have fun with you! But don't worry, she won't play with you as rough as she plays with her other siblings- She's very very gentle with you like you are a piece of glass that can break any second. So her activities with you normally consist of her reading books to you, cuddling, playing innocent games like hide and seek + etc!

• You don't know how excited she is to read you all of her favorite stories as you cuddle with her! She can sit there for hours reading to you, seriously sometimes Bela or Cassandra have to drag you away from Daniela since she gets too engaged in the story and doesn't realize how much time that has passed-

• Yeah, it becomes a problem- Cuz she also does it when she's cuddling with you too. Time just flies by so fast for her! She really wants to keep holding you longer and snuggle into you more but your other siblings and your mommy need time with you too sadly

• She wishes she can have you all to herself some days, she can be kind of needy when she wants to hang out with you but there's no ill intentions behind it! She just loves you a lot and misses you a lot too, if she doesn't see you around the house she will panic even if you're outside doing something or something else—

• Her separation anxiety is popping off with you

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Yeahhh— This is what I do when I have no requests hfhdhhfhdhd + sorry if there's any mistakes I'm kind of sleepy right now lol

~ Masterlist ~

~ Request Guidelines ~

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

I kinda hate myself for asking this but can I get more of Your Personal Ghost?? Maybe a part two or just more of him in general??

.⋆｡Your Bandit｡⋆.

Brahms Heelshire x plus size reader

With the disappearance of all of your panties, some new information comes to light that isn’t as unwelcome as you thought it would be

Warnings: panty stealing, fluff, swearing, writer!reader WC: 1k

Minors DNI

Part 1

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“I swear I just did laundry.” You muttered, frustrated as you stared down at your mostly empty underwear drawer. Your panties had been disappearing at quite an alarming rate but they always ended up in your laundry hamper even if you couldn’t quite remember if you ever even wore them.

You sighed and slammed the drawer shut. Dressed only in an oversized t-shirt, you stomped your way down to the laundry room in some deluded idea that maybe the washer had somehow eaten your underwear. 

The small room in the basement of the house echoed with your aggravated curses as you dug through not only the washing machine but also the dryer and the linen closet in the corner. But nope- no panties, dirty or otherwise. 

“I give up!” You threw your hands into the air. “Whatever ghost is in this stupid fucking house, stop taking my fucking underwear! I need that shit!” You received no reply back except the house groaning as it settled. “I hate this place.”

Fishing a pair of leggings from the dryer, you tugged them on angrily as you muttered to yourself under your breath. “I’m gonna blow all my savings on fucking panties and ya know what, they’ll just go missing again. This is such bullshit.” Stomping away from the laundry room, you were dead-set on restoring your supply of undergarments and keeping it that way. No pervy ghost would get the better of you.

The wall by the front door creaked ominously as you stuffed your feet into the worn sneakers you couldn’t seem to part from. You didn’t even bother to address your haunted mansion, only stepping into the brisk morning and slamming the door shut behind you. It would be a long drive to the shops but it would give you time to plan your revenge.

——————

Your anger had dissolved to almost nothing by the time you pulled back into the driveway, getting home a lot later than you expected. It was stupid to think that the house was haunted; it was old, sure and a questionable history, no doubt. But haunted? That was idiotic at best. Yeah, you heard the ghost stories and still couldn’t find it in yourself to take down any of the creepy family portraits scattered around the eerie hallways. You were just lonely and in desperate need of some inspiration for your stagnating writing.

Your sigh was carried off on the breeze as you stepped from your car. The heat still emanating from the engine gave you a brief respite from the cold while you gathered yourself. “I’m losing my fucking mind.” The plastic bag stuffed full of brand new panties crinkled as you pulled it from the back seat, along with a well-deserved (in your opinion) bag of Chinese food from the only takeaway shop in a 50 mile radius. 

Too lost in your own head, you didn’t notice the light on in one of the empty bedrooms and the dark silhouette against the thick glass of the window. Maybe if you had, you would’ve thought better than to call out into the house as you took off your shoes. “Honey! I’m home!” 

You chuckled to yourself at your little joke, completely oblivious to the barely audible footsteps above you. The bag of panties landed with a soft thud at the foot of the stairs as you passed by it, a gentle reminder to bring them upstairs once you had your fill of bland food and plenty of wine. 

The huge shadow that darted behind the wall followed after you, far closer than it normally was though, as usual, you were ignorant to its presence. You hummed under your breath as you laid out your feast on the kitchen table. The food was now only lukewarm though you didn’t mind, the cheap bottle of red sitting in the pantry would warm you up plenty.

You pulled the cork from the bottle stem with a satisfying pop, too occupied by your task to see the large painting of a landscape lift itself from its place on the wall. The squeak of the Styrofoam covered the creak of the floorboards as a heavy weight settled on them. 

Just as you pulled out a kitchen chair, you heard heavy breathing over your shoulder.

“Welcome home.” The voice that rang out through the room was a strange mixture of that of a young boy and a grown man. Your entire body froze as fear shot through your veins. The house settled into silence as your gaze creeped to where the voice had come from.

Standing in front of a man-sized hole in the wall was a veritable giant. He loomed over you, even at a distance, his body wide with sinewy muscle that was barely covered by the large cardigan he wore. Greasy black curls hung down over his face or rather what should have been his face. The orange glow of the kitchen lights bounced off the cracked white porcelain, making his dark brown eyes stand out as they shone with anxiety.

“I’ve been waiting for you, I missed you.” His paw-like hands clasped together in front of him, his fingers nervously intertwining as he waited for you to do something, anything.

Your lips parted and there was only one thing you could think of to say. “You took my underwear.” His whole body curled in on itself as he cringed like a little kid when they would get in trouble. His head bobbed. “How- how long have you been here?”

“My whole life.” He answered. His huge shoulders dropped as he lowered his head, looking at you through his eyelashes. 

“Holy shit, you’re Brahms.” The boy who supposedly died in a fire in this very house almost 20 years ago. Suddenly you knew why you got this house for so fucking cheap. “And you’ve been watching me?” His nod was slow, almost as if he were ashamed. 

“You’re nice.” He simpered.

“Oh fuck,” You whined, “This is a great idea for a book. C’mon get some food, I suppose that neither of us are going anywhere for a while.” He lumbered over, his eyes still wary but the slight pink tint that you could see spreading down his neck told you just how pleased he was with this development.

“Were you the one deleting my writing?” Brahms’s breath hitched and before you could blink, he grabbed a box of fried rice and scurried back into the hole in the wall.

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[bepp-ers]

sorry for vanishing on yall i went to take a nap (for like 9 months)

headcanons about the obey me! brothers and the devildom that no-one asked for, in no particular order. because why not :)

> asmodeus is kind of against piercings that aren't in the ear because they're 'tacky' and unsavoury.

> mammon had an aeroplane phase. he eventually settled on cars, but there are still a few plane magazines stashed in his wardrobe.

> lucifer has grey hair but like. way more than you'd think. he's just really good at hiding it. he may or may not have used some sort of magic to hide it, until eventually he gives up and starts to let it show. that's why in some artwork/pictures he has grey streaks, and in some he has none.

> beelzebub has tried to eat so many of the paintings in the HoL that they have to be sealed with magic, lest he devour another family portrait.

> barbatos' tail is "slimy" or "slick" because it's actually poisonous, like those frogs. that's why he doesn't like people touching it, except for that one picture where Solomon tries to touch it (i reckon he got tired of him trying to touch it so he just allows him to be poisoned lmao)

> demons will eat humans. this is a known fact, although it's usually only very low-level demons who are starving, or have succumbed to their sins completely who eat humans. beelzebub has thought about it a few times but he likes MC far too much to truly consider eating them.

> expanding on the last point, the Devildom is overpopulated. im calling it. i headcanon that demons (particularly glutton demons) casually partake in cannibalism. there are too many demons/other species and as such, the laws basically don't exist. the answer to overpopulation is basically murder, or cannibalism.

> the brothers don't try and tone down the more "demon" elements of themselves around MC until someone mentions that humans don't really like that kind of thing. MC has seen some SHIT man.

> leviathan refuses to eat fish or seafood because of Henry 2.0. mammon has 100% tricked him into eating like a fishcake or something. he definitely cried a lot that day.

> i think all of the brothers snore, except for belphegor (ironic huh). asmodeus adamantly denies snoring, but he does. mammon snores the loudest obviously. everyone else just snores a normal amount, and lucifer falls asleep in his chair/on the sofa a lot so his snoring is heard the most. he's a dad at heart.

> satan hates that people mistake him for lucifer. that's obvious. he hates it so much that he once wrote a book on the subject, under a pen name, and it was surprisingly popular. he doesn't think anyone knows he wrote it, but lucifer knows. he simply never said anything because he was secretly proud of satan for how well he could write.

hopefully these make sense. god i forgot just how much this game actually made me think. i love world building yarhhhhggh

> asmodeus is deathly afraid of head lice. that's it that's the headcanon.

oh yeah the ole ask box is open. send me asks im so desperate ill take anything

[revolu]

I'm dropping (a bit old) john laurens yap here. Please correct anything you must + provide the source.

and we know very limited about John but whatever !!

Laurens was described by Hamilton to have honey blonde hair when clean. His hair was generally said to be light brown/blonde. As seen on portraits, he had soft features, blue eyes, and a big nose. He was described to be very handsome, and IMO I agree!! We don't know exactly how tall he was, but he was most likely over 6 feet. One day before Laurens' 15th birthday, his father wrote to James Grant; ''my Little Jack, now as big as I am...'' (Jack being John's nickname). We don't know Henry Laurens' height, but if he was as tall as Henry at 15, he certainly grew to be taller. In 1778, Henry wrote to John ''A Taylor has cut off as much of your Scarlet as will make he says a Wascoat for 6 feet 3 inches...'' which suggests that John could have been 6'3. It's not clear what exactly Henry means in the letter but as said, John was probably over 6 feet. Laurens was one of the strongest abolitionists of the time despite coming from one of the bigger slave plantations and growing up where slavery was normal. John could speak English, French, Italian, Greek, Spanish and Latin. We know that he was fluent in English and French but we don't know about his fluency in the other languages.

Laurens got Martha Manning pregnant and ended up marrying her out of pity (supposedly to protect her reputation too and to keep illegitimacy of their child.) He wrote to his uncle ''...Pity has obliged me to marry...'', When Laurens left for war, he left his pregnant wife in another country. When John was chosen by congress to be a special minister to France and had him travel there, Martha traveled with their daughter to reconnect with him upon hearing about his arrival in France. But John supposedly made no effort whatsoever to visit them; he completed his mission and went back to America. Martha later died during the trip and their daughter, Frances, was sent to live with her aunt.

John Laurens is believed to have been gay... The man didn't seem to express any attraction towards women, though I think his sexist beliefs played a role in this, as well as his lack of effort to humble his wife. His letters to Alexander Hamilton, and Francis Kinloch also suggest he had an eye for men... ESPECIALLY Kinloch's and his correspondence.

Henry Laurens wrote ''Master Jack is too closely wedded to his studies to think about any of the Miss Nanny's''. But it's important to note that he was a teenager at that time and not every teen develops those feelings at the same time. But I would imagine that since he was as tall as his father at 15, he was early in puberty... Romantic/sexual feelings usually come with puberty, but what do we know? Anyways. John expressed a lot of sexist opinions, even towards his own sisters, which can be read in letters. Most men were sexist, but John seemed to be more ''strict'' on the subject... This definitely plays a part in his supposed ''homosexuality''.

John hid the fact that he had a wife and child from Hamilton for nearly two years. Why? The reason is unknown. It's only up to debate. My guess is that he just wanted to try to ''forget'' them in some way, seeing as he literally left them... Why would you bring up that you have a family that you abandoned? But maybe it was because he never found the right time to tell him, or was it to get a better chance with Hamilton? We will never know, sadly. But what we DO know, is that Laurens referred to his wife as ''dear girl'', and Hamilton, and supposedly ONLY Hamilton, as ''Dear boy''. We know for a fact that Hamilton was close to Laurens and was special to him, but why did he call his wife that? Out of pity? He didn't necessarily show any real attraction towards her... But whatever the reason is, it's kinda cute.

We know that Henry Laurens was emotionally manipulative of John, which is like read in letters... So there is no denying that, really. BUT John was close to his father, attachment issues tsk, tsk tsk... But jokes aside, when John told his father that he wasn't super interested in becoming a lawyer or merchant like his father wanted, Henry wrote this to his brother; ''if he enters upon the plan of Life which he Seemed to pant for when he wrote the 5th. July, I Shall give him up for lost & he will very Soon reproach himSelf for his want of Duty & affection towards me, for abandoning his Brothers & Sisters, for disregarding the Council of his Uncle, & for his deficiency of common understanding, in making Such a choice_ if these reflections prevail not over him, nothing will_ he must have his own way & I must be content with the remembrance, that I had a Son.'' Basically, Henry said he would disown John if he pursued his interests in medicine. So, John ended up becoming a lawyer/statesman to please his father. There are more examples of John trying to please his father, but let's not take that now... HOWEVER, after John had died, Henry wrote of him in response to John Adams' letter; ''Thank God I had a Son who dared to die in defence of his Country'' ... We get a lot of mixed signals from Henry... Though I do believe he loved him, at least somewhat.., even if he was controlling/manipulative. Henry wasn't too nice to his other children either, but since this is about John I'm not gonna talk about that.

John's brother James died at the age of 9-10 (1765-1775)

James, or Jemmy, was supposedly scaling the outside of their house and tried to jump to the landing outside of John’s window but fell. He received life threatening injuries and cracked his skull. The doctors had figured that the injuries were too severe to save him and John described it to his uncle four days later; "At some Intervals he had his senses, so far as to be able to answer single Questions, to beckon to me, and to form his Lips to kiss me, but for the most part he was delirious, and frequently unable to articulate. Puking, Convulsions never very violent, and latterly so gentle as scarcely to be perceived, or deserve the Name, ensued, and Nature yielded."

Since John was supposed to watch over James during this time, John felt guilty and as if it was his fault. James' death was very difficult for John, and it weighed heavily on him.

Henry did little to alleviate those feelings of guilt, which suggests that he either didn't care enough, or that a part of him also blamed John. (I am not saying he 100% did, but it would not be surprising if he so did, considering how he treated John.)

He could also have been in too much grief to console John... Which, as said, would not be too surprising considering his treatment of John. But nevertheless, he did not do much to help John and John's guilt.

TW: mentions of suicide.

It is highly speculated that John was suicidal. We have a couple of written exchanges where John discusses suicide with friends and family. In February 1774, John wrote to Henry Laurens about two men who had attempted suicide. We don't have the whole letter, but here is a part of Henry's response; ''...But, my Dear Son, I trust that your opinion on that Question is So firm, that you are armed with Such irrefragable proofs of the Impiety as well as Cowardice of Self Murther, as puts you out of danger of being made a Convert to Error...'' (Not gonna put all of it). Another time, when John was a prisoner of war and didn't handle imprisonment well, Hamilton wrote to John ''For your own sake, for my sake, for the public sake, I shall pray for the success of the attempt (of being exchanged) you mention; that you may have it in your power to act with us. But if you should be disappointed, bear it like a man; have recourse, neither to the dagger, nor to the poisoned bowl, nor to the rope.'' It is clear that Hamilton (and Henry, despite how he treated John) were worried about John's thoughts of suicide. John's last letter to Hamilton was probably one of the, if not the, most emotional. He wrote ''Adieu, my dear friend; while circumstances place so great distance between us, I entreat you not to withdraw the consolation of your letters. You know the unalterable sentiments of your affectionate Laurens.'' John died about a month later. On the day of his death, John and his men surprised a troop of British soldiers that outnumbered them. Instead of retreating, John chose to immediately attack. He did not really actively end his own life, though it seems as if it was planned or that he was trying. Which is just sad. Also, it's not sure that Hamilton's last letter to Laurens ever got to him before he died. (In that letter he tells John to quit his sword and come to congress with Hamilton)

I don't know what else to add actually but here you have it!! This is as accurate as I can get it, especially cause it's like mostly based on letters... Uhm. But yay!

[k-evans-reads]

The Spare

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Summary: When Princess Rosie unexpectedly is thrust into a political tour of the country, a working-class Air Force Captain is assigned to be her pilot. Although the princess is unhappy about the decision, she realizes she’s stepping into unknown territory when the unexpected happens

Intro l Main Masterlist | The Spare Masterlist

By @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

Word Count: 5,672

The door shut firmly behind the Princess’ Private Secretary, leaving the four highest-ranking members of the Royal Family in the oversized room alone. An uneasy silence lingered past the echo’s reverberation, only adding to Rosalie’s anxiety. She shifted on the plush cushion, running her hand along and smoothing her skirt as she cleared her throat and looked towards her father, asking, “What did you hear from the doctor? Do they know for sure what’s going on?”

The prim-and-proper King was unusually disheveled, wearing a wrinkled dress shirt, bare feet, and unstyled hair. It was always ingrained in the Royal Family from a young age that they were to uphold the image, the one of privilege, beauty, and elegance. She could still remember from a young age the uncomfortable hours on end she’d stand straight at parades, waving and smiling at each cheering member of the public as her feet ached and cried for relief. But as the years went on, the more strict the rules would become. Seeing the vast juxtaposition of the way her father looked now only reminded her how serious this was.

Her brow arched as she took her father’s appearance in more - the heaviness in his expression, the rigidity of his frown, the hunch of his shoulders. “They’re still looking into things further but what they know for sure is that it was a heart attack,” King Joseph began, pausing as his eyes danced over the portraits of their ancestors hanging from the walls around them. Then, Rosie felt a pang of sympathy as the familiar mask slipped over Joseph, as if an outsider or staffer walked into the room - the way the tension and strain left his body in a microsecond as he sat up straight, his frown leaving his face. “They think I’ll be fine but I probably do need some time to recover.”

A soft tut echoed from her mother’s lips - one that barely toed the line of daring to challenge him - before Genevieve gently corrected his words to their children, “No, they told him he had to have time to recover.”

Rosie’s head turned to look at James as he opened his mouth, but then took a beat then let out a breath as he delicately asked, “So what does that look like?”

The tension returned to Joseph’s body and in Rosalie’s stomach as reality set in for everyone. Everyone knew that this was a lot more than just a family worried about their father’s health, it meant so much for them and the country and she couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach as he answered, “Probably a month off completely.” The King admitted unhappily to the Prince and Princess. Subconsciously, her posture straightened as his eyes landed on her, and she avoided the desire to avert her eyes under his occasionally-scrutinizing gaze. “Which would mean that I do need you to take over my duties during that time, and Rosalie, I will need you to officially take James’ spot on the tour. I know you were hoping that you wouldn’t have to fill in but I am going to need you.”

“It’s fine, we want to do what we can to help you recover,” she began, pausing as she struggled with how to word her concerns. Navigating a relationship with her father had always been a little bit difficult when they had moments that were more normal and familial and others that were all business. Royal life may have been hailed as glamorous and exciting, but Rosie knew how complicated and burdensome it could be. At times they felt like a real family, loving and caring for one another and having honest conversations but other times, they had to stay restrained, knowing that no matter what, the crown always came first. The truth of the matter was that - at times - her father’s role and actions intimidated her. Rarely did she have the loving paternal figure at her side as a child, more often under the care of the Palace nannies while her parents fulfilled their roles. Her thumbs itched to fiddle nervously but she restrained herself, instead finally asking, “What are we going to do about touring the coast with all the protests going on? Are we cutting that out?”

The King nodded, his lips pursed as he sprung into what was likely an already prepared response, “Well I think-”

But Genevieve rested her hand on the King’s arm, causing him to cut off as she reminded him, “No, you need to let James decide. He’s the one who’s taking on your duties, remember?”

A huff of air left his lips as he nodded shortly. “You’re right,” he conceded. “James, what do you want to do?”

The eldest was quiet for a long beat, his fingers tapping lightly on the plush arm of the couch. He stared straight ahead as he thought, his eyes landing on one of the portraits as well until his gaze turned to her, asking, “Rosie, do you have thoughts?”

A smirk appeared on her lips as she looked at James, catching the amusement in his eyes at the action. “Cancel the tour and don’t make me go,” she muttered playfully, ignoring the frustrated sigh from both of her parents.

“Very funny,” James chided, lightly elbowing Rosie in the hip as her father stared at her plainly.

But Rosie shook her head, her eyes staring at James. “You know I’m not kidding,” she reminded him. She shrugged her shoulders, her eyes quickly moving over her father before she looked at James again, remembering her earlier conversations with him about their younger sister. “I do terrible on these things anyway, I think Annie should go instead.”

Quickly, the King interrupted the siblings, declaring, “That’s not happening, Anneliese is too young and inexperienced.”

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Rosie thought back to how different things had been for Annie as compared to herself and James’ childhoods. While Rosie and James spent much of their adolescence bouncing in and out of boarding schools, then stepping into international tours accompanied by the King and Queen, Annie had it different. She often was left behind at home, seen as “too young” while her siblings juggled their prestigious and elite schooling with the duties of active royals, despite their adolescence. There’d always been this double standard, and while she would do anything to keep Annie as far from the machine of Royal life, she wished she had the same choice for herself.

James simply arched an eyebrow, looking at the King and reminding him, “Aren’t I making the decisions here?”

But Joseph scowled, pointing out, “Well I haven’t heard you make one yet.”

Several beats of silence passed, the tension rising between James, Rosie, and Joseph. Finally, James huffed out a breath, running his hand over his shirt. “….Rosie you have to go,” he murmured, avoiding her eyes.

There was silence for a moment and Rosie could see how pleased James’ decision made their father. But despite that, she could see the struggle in James’ face as he contended with putting his sister or her duty first. “If we cut out the coastline visits though, then it would only be a month,” she began quietly, watching James carefully. “We would avoid the protests, and then I’d be back and dad can do the rest once he’s better. This seems like a great solution.”

Both father and son rolled their eyes at Rosie’s insistence in getting her way. She was steadfast in the fact that for four years now, she’d done more than her fair share of public service - spending more time on airplanes, trains, ships, and in cars than in her own bed. She’d missed so much, she missed her friends, getting to focus her efforts on her charity outreaches, and getting to see Annie grow into the young woman she was now. But despite that, it seemed no one else realized the toll covering for James and Joseph had taken on her.

“More like a great way of you getting out of this,” James retorted, his voice barely louder than the crackle of the fire next to them and the echo of footsteps passing by outside the closed door.

But Rosie’s brows furrowed at James’ words, frustration rising as her opinion continued to be ignored. “When James got back I was supposed to finally get a break,” she reminded them, her voice quiet but firm. And that had been the deal - she had graduated from university, then was thrown into four years of public duty with no downtime to breathe, all so James could serve in the Air Force. Any time she brought up needing a few days to herself, it had always been “Once James is home, you can… you’ll have all the time you need.” It seemed as though that promise was not only empty, but had been forgotten.

But the look in her father’s eyes showed Rosie that he remembered that promise - and yet he was continuing to break his word. “I’m sorry Rosalie,” he began, pausing delicately before adding, “But the positive of me being less visible while I recover is that it gives you the chance to be more involved.”

A scoff escaped Rosie’s lips and she didn’t care to stop it, letting her anger rise a bit. “What have I been doing the last four years, then?” She asked incredulously.

“You’ve been standing in James’ place and in his shadow but this is your chance to be Princess Rosalie, all on her own and be who you are, not fulfilling James’ role,” Joseph tried to reason with her, and she arched a single brow at him. Standing on her own, outside of James’ shadow?! As much as they all liked to pretend it wasn’t the case, she’d always been and always would be in his shadow. The first-born, golden child of Ellington. She’d never hold it against him, but she didn’t think there was a single conversation she’d ever had with anyone, whether other dignitaries, tutors, or acquaintances, where James wasn’t brought up despite his absence. When you’re constantly reminded of being the second-best, the spare, and the insurance when compared to the eldest, who had their own miserable circumstances as well. It was all impossible, and it seemed Rosie stepped on the Palace’s lines much more than anyone had in the past.

Heavy was the head that wore the crown, but the pressure forced upon Rosie seemed to rival it, even on the best days.

“I think we all know I can’t be who I am,” she started, her voice quivering in her rising frustration. She ran a hand along her skirt, fingers coming to rest on an errant strand of fabric that her seamstress evidently missed. “Look, I’m not trying to be difficult, we just all know that none of this is me. I was happy to stand in for James while he did what he wanted being in the Air Force but I thought that it was finally my chance to have some space.”

James’ eyes showed the weight on him, the internal struggle between duty and family. He cleared his throat quietly before whispering, “It’s only two more months, Rosie.”

“It just seems like there’s always something else. You think it’ll be the end and then the rug gets pulled out from under you,” Rosie muttered, her fingers lightly twisting the fabric, careful to not pull it from the skirt.

Joseph’s expression seemed heavy, his eyes pointed towards the ground as a hand covered part of his face, deep in thought. “I know it’s not ideal, but we need you to do this,” he decided, eyes coming to meet Rosie’s before he gestured to James. “James is the ultimate authority on it though.”

The Prince nodded, his shoulders squaring resolutely. “We don’t have a choice. Rosie, it has to be you,” he agreed, his voice strained despite his confident demeanor.

Rosie shot a look at the silent Queen, her eyes watching the conversation between her husband and eldest children intently. As she met Rosie’s eyes, the young woman shot her a pleading look, all but begging her to speak up.

Their mother hummed, giving Rosie a tight-lipped smile. “I think there is a security risk though,” she conceded sweetly, and Rosie’s shoulders slouched as she let out a small gasp of relief as her mother - the normally silent, meek woman - spoke up on her behalf.

But James ignored the magnitude of the situation, simply stating, “Then we’ll get more guards and protection.”

Rosie didn’t suppress the eye roll this time, huffing as she did so. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised. It had always been the King and Prince show - it always would be, that was simply the nature of their life. The heirs mattered above all else, and their opinions shaped the lives of every person in the family. But she had continually struggled with the idea of letting it dictate her life, she wanted nothing more than to have some semblance of autonomy, despite knowing it was never in the cards, at least not now.

But it didn’t mean James’ insistence didn’t hurt. She felt he always understood where she was coming from, always looked out for her and Annie. But now, she was really seeing James step into the leadership position for the first time.

“Or I just don’t go, just reminding you all that it’s an option,” she muttered, waving a hand. Her frustration was cresting as the two men ignored not only Rosie’s, but her mother’s points as well - points that in all honesty scared Rosie.

The situation outside of the capital of Ellington was tenuous at best. Tensions had been rising for months now, and while King Joseph’s decision to keep silent may have been smart at first, it had done nothing to turn the tide since. And now to be sent into the lion’s den in all honesty scared Rosie. She was no stranger to security protocols, risks, and threats, but this had much eclipsed any past risks Rosie knew of. Each member of the Royal Family was under a microscope, never deviating from an internal schedule, always accompanied by several security members. And that was just what Rosie knew - she was sure there was more she was not privy to that James and her father were aware of.

A sudden loud crackle of the fire brought her out of her thoughts to find James rising, moving to pour himself a drink from the carafe on the long table nearby. She watched the sharpness of his shoulders, the unfamiliar stressful strain as he moved, causing Rosie to arch a brow at the sight. “I have to be here to step up in dad’s place. Rosie, you’re going to have to get used to this more.” James spoke dismissively.

She couldn’t help but look at James, her brows raising as fast as her anger - reaching levels she never knew James could elicit. “I’m the one who’s been doing this the past four years, remember?” Rosie asked sarcastically, her voice anything but amused.

He avoided her eyes, a hand reaching to run down his face as he attempted a placating, “It’s only two more months…”

She pushed out a breath, ready to respond when a sharp knock sounded at the door. All eyes landed on the oversized double wooden doors as the King’s Secretary waited for any protest before the doors pushed open.

The sudden intrusion didn’t seem to take anyone by surprise, but Rosie’s brows quickly furrowed as the aide stepped aside to reveal Edward Henry - the Communications Secretary for the Royal Family - and quite honestly Rosie’s least favorite person, who was carrying a large stack of papers.

She’d long struggled with the ‘duty’ aspect of her birthright position, the responsibility forced on her by an institution when all she wanted was normalcy. But between a lack of a proper childhood, wanting a normal university experience, being outspoken by nature, and maybe having a few brushes with untrustworthy so-called ‘friends’, she’d landed herself on Edward Henry’s bad side… quite literally for life.

At her father’s warm greeting to Edward after his obligatory bows to each member of the family, Rosie’s frustration grew. She knew she shouldn’t have come - she’d had a bad feeling about this meeting ever since receiving word of it at breakfast. Her suspicions grew when she realized Annie was omitted from the group, removing what would’ve been Rosie’s only true ally from the room and all conversations. But now, to see that the intention was never to plan a tour or shift schedules around to accommodate the King’s sudden change in health…. It was to focus on her.

The Palace and Royal Family both had struggled at times with her, Rosie could admit that herself. She felt as though she could never do things right, never be the person they tried to mold her to be. She was rigid in ways the Institution needed her to be pliable, soft in the ways they needed her to be tough, and sour when they needed her to be sweet.

“You’re joking me right?” Rosie finally spoke, arching her brow at her father as he warmly shook Edward’s hand, seeing the label ‘ITINERARY’ scribbled across the files he began handing to her father.

The King’s face hardened instantly. “Rosalie, don’t even start,” he warned, holding out his hand for Queen Genevieve to greet Edward.

But Edward was unphased, used to her often brash ways. “Princess, we have your itinerary to go over and I’d like to discuss some different things we’d like you to incorporate in your speeches at each one. Also we have picked out which charities you’ll be endorsing along the tour,” he informed her, handing copies of the folders to her mother and brother before sitting in the empty armchair between the two occupied sofas. His hand moved to hand her a copy, but ceased when the furious expression on her face was noticed.

A bitter chuckle escaped her. “So none of this mattered,” she mused, frowning as she looked at her father pointedly. “No matter what I said or felt or even what James decided didn’t matter because everything was already decided on,”

But the man simply shrugged as he paged through the plans, brows furrowed while he sat down on the sofa again. “We had to make a plan,” he informed her, as if it was that simple.

With a roll of her eyes, Rosie pushed herself off the couch. “Fine, then make your plan. It’s obvious you don’t need me here for any of it,” she informed them, dropping her eyes as she moved towards the shut doors. She could hear the sharp breath her mother took at her outright rudeness towards not only Edward, but James and her father. A scowl crossed Rosie’s lips as her eyes prickled with tears and she focused on the sound of her heels as she raced to the door.

If anyone attempted to say anything or chastise her, she didn’t hear - nor did she care - as the door practically slammed behind her. The guards standing outside the door pointedly avoided her eyes, telling Rosie everything she needed to know about what they heard. She had already turned to leave the wing when that thought made her stop. Her lip was quivering as she met the older guard’s eyes - Albert, she reminded herself, he’d accompanied her to riding lessons as a young girl - and she was surprised when he silently led the other guard to stand across the hall instead without a word, giving her the encouragement she needed.

She stood just beyond the door, giving herself enough space to make an escape if needed, but close enough to be able to hear the conversation inside.

Despite her mother’s objection, they’d clearly moved on from her outburst as she heard her father speaking, his voice carrying easily. “James, there’s a lot riding on that tour. I don’t have to tell you with all the political tension going on and protests, everyone is going to be looking at this tour and how it goes.”

“What your dad is saying is you’re going to need to keep an eye on Rosalie,” her mother said, and Rosie’s brow furrowed. She’d been doing just fine the last few years - handling double duty without anyone batting an eye. Why is she all of the sudden not good enough? But she caught herself as she thought - remembering that the golden boy had been occupied with serving Ellington in the Air Force. They must’ve had to make due with “second-best”, and Rosie’s best was no longer good enough.

But she was surprised when James was the one to speak, defending her and saying, “She’s been in my place the last couple years though and she’s done fine.”

A bitter chuckle escaped Edward and Rosie wanted nothing more than to disappear at that second, admittedly it was all she’d ever wanted. “It depends on the way you look at it,” Edward pointed out.

But James wasn’t going down without a fight, pointing out, “Well the press love her. I mean, there isn’t hardly a week that went by that the people’s princess wasn’t splashed on some headline.”

The scowl returned and the tears threatened to leak from her eyes as Edward finally contributed, his voice like nails on a chalkboard to her as he said, “And that’s the problem. You may love Rosalie’s personality but currently she’s in line to the throne after you and represents the royal family. If she were the youngest it would be different but she has to start taking this seriously and be more neutral.”

She tapped her fingers against her side nervously. Rosie had always known that this was the opinion of her amongst those on the outside of the family, who worked to polish and prime them. They’d attempted to do so to her for years, but they’d always gotten along like oil and water. But to be confronted with this and to overhear this, to know her own parents felt this way, hurt.

However, a small flutter of hope settled in her as James again attempted to defend her, his voice unwavering as he said, “She’s right, she has stepped into my role the past couple years and done well.”

“We just don’t think she fully sees the weight of this because you’re the one who’s next in line to the throne,” Joseph admitted, and Rosie had to do everything she could to keep herself quiet.

Yes, James’ role was unique and seemed miserable in itself. He had no choice in his life, in his future, in anything - even more than Rosie. But to live this life solely being second-place, second-loved, second-everything to someone was a different kind of miserable. You couldn’t compare the two, but neither were ideal, and for anyone to try to frame it that way completely ignored everything both she and Annie had gone through.

The grating returned to Rosie as Edward - the absolute bane of her fucking existence - unnecesarily added, “Ellington has only ever had two Queens both of them knew how to fall in line. Nobody knows what to do with Rosalie and it’s not a great look for the palace.”

“People relate to her though!” James insisted, his voice rising.

“Royals aren’t supposed to be relatable, if they are, what’s the point of having them?” Edward challenged.

There was a long silence and Rosie found herself stuck between wanting nothing more to leave and forget this all ever happened, just like she had so many times before in her life, and wanting to creep closer as the fear of missing something grew as the silence continued. Her mind was still racing, fighting against itself as she stood frozen with nearly trembling ankles when she heard James’ voice. It was soft, as if the fight had left him as he helplessly asked, “…So what do you suggest I do?”

“Just do what you can to help this tour go well. A lot hinges on this and her,” Joseph encouraged, his voice suddenly softer as well. A slight scowl graced Rosie’s lips at that realization, knowing that James often got a side of their parents that neither she nor Annie ever got. He’d gotten the most time with them - whether because of duty or love, it almost didn’t matter. She saw how much Annie yearned to have the relationship James had with them, and she found herself wishing for it at times too.

Her ear pressed closer to the overly-ornate wooden doors, yearning to hear more, but she wished she hadn’t as Edward explained, “What the Prince said isn’t wrong. The public is for the Princess, but in this tumultuous time, we need her to present more stability. People need to be comforted knowing that the royal family is stable and has the country’s best interest at heart.”

She stared at the floor, brows furrowing and confusion flooding her at those words. Unstable? Her? Sometimes she felt like the only sane person in this equation.

Her confusion was shared as James - his voice strong and firm - pointed out, “I don’t think Rosie can really be categorized as unstable.”

But Edward simply chuckled again, explaining, “Saying things off script in speeches or breaking social norms for royalty is viewed as unstable.”

“We just need her to be a constant unwavering person that people can look up to, especially when it got leaked about my health.” Her father spoke strongly. Rosie felt a pang of sympathy - if this heart attack had never happened, then maybe this wouldn’t be happening. But it all seemed too convenient, the empty promises of privacy and autonomy, the sudden return of James. “We need steadiness. This tour is what can bring it and allow everyone to see Rosie as the one to help bring it.”

“I know she can do it, I just wish she didn’t have to,” James admitted, and Rosie sighed at those simple words, knowing just how much honesty was behind them.

She wasn’t surprised when her father spoke again, his words reeking of lessons a life in the public eye and service had given him. “Our life is a heavy burden at times, but whether good or bad, the crown has fallen on us. That includes Rosalie and we have to make sure we steward it well, and that matters more than any of our personal feelings.”

Tears burned at Rosie’s eyes as the weight of what they were saying sunk in. She wasn’t stupid, she was painfully aware of her image and what people thought of her. Her entire life was dictated by it and what was or wasn’t on the front page of a newspaper. The past four years she had done everything in her power to push down who the real Rosie was, trying to step into James’ shoes to allow him to have the bit of fleeting normalcy they all craved but always seemed to elude them. It had nearly killed her to shove so much of herself down, but she had done it for her duty, her country, and - most of all - for her brother. But now to hear that it wasn’t good enough? It felt like rubbing salt in the open wound on her heart.

She had absolutely no idea what else they could possibly want from her short of ripping away every single part of her personality. And the worst part? It seemed fruitless. No matter what she did, it just always fell short. Her only saving grace that kept some hope alive inside of her was that James was back. He was her only shot at being able to get some of herself back that had been buried little by little.

Once Rosie heard the group stand and pleasantries being exchanged among her parents and Edward, she raced away from the door and down the hall, not wanting to be seen. She wiped furiously at her eyes as she grappled with the onslaught of information, but quickly had to push it from her mind as her assistant called out to her, plastering a smile on her face as Claire began to explain what they needed to do to prepare for the gala honoring the military that evening.

___________________________________________________

Rosie had kept the smile glued to her face all evening, determined to be on her best behavior. While she may have chosen the other option in the past - the “fine, I’ll be what you think of me” option - today, she couldn’t. If she did, she knew what was at risk, what was on the line, and she just couldn’t stomach willingly doing it tonight.

She’d made her rounds, thanked as many service members she could find, listened to as many stories as she could stomach, laughed as many times as she could without a hint of humor actually being behind it, and had finally escaped to the side room with Claire to fix the strap of her heels when James slipped into the otherwise-empty room.

She avoided his eyes with everything in her, instead taking a long sip of her champagne to quell her nerves when James came to stand next to her, his voice low despite Claire’s proximity.

“Rosie c’mon, I know you don’t want to do this. I get it. I wish I could give you a break but I don’t have a choice,” he pleaded.

Her shoulders hunched, knowing he was truly stuck. He had to live up to what their father expected - what everyone expected - but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to go against her big brother. “I know you don’t, and I don’t mean to make it harder on you. I just suck at all of this, James.” she explained.

“No you don’t. The press is for you, everyone loves you,” he reminded her, his voice soft and sweet. She appreciated the sentiment - but it felt empty to her after what she had overheard merely hours earlier.

“I just was hoping I’d finally have a break,” she admitted with a whisper, not knowing how to put it more simply than that.

James sighed, his frustration at the impossible situation evident. “I’m sorry, Rosie,” he murmured, and there was no doubt in Rosie’s mind that he was honest. “I love you and you know I’m going to do what I can to make it easier.”

“I love you too and I don’t want to be difficult, I really don’t,” she explained, turning as Clarie finished and scampered back into the party, leaving the siblings alone with the guards standing by the doors. “I’m just… disappointed I guess and I feel bad because I don’t want to make this worse on dad or you. I just hate doing these tours.”

“I had an idea though,” James began, pausing as Rosie arched a brow at him. He took a deep breath, evidently steeling himself.“What if I asked my friend to be your pilot for the tour? You remember Chris, right? My best friend from the Air Force? He’s standing out there right next to the bar.” He asked, pointing through the glass doorway to Chris.

Rosie sighed, not feeling like any of this was a good idea - especially from James - after this afternoon. There was just too much going on, Rosie feeling like so much had been shaken today. “Can’t Martin do it?” She asked, her voice meek. She knew if she had to go on this tour, if she had to deal with the risks and the tensions associated with it, that comfort would do her good. And Martin - the longtime Palace Security Head, who all but attended all of her birthday parties growing up and was truly like a father to her, would fit the bill.

“I need to pick someone who can also be with you to certain events to be your security and we both know Martin is getting too old for that,” James explained, nudging her with his elbow. “C’mon, would I stick you with someone shitty? Chris is the only person who treated me like a normal guy. You’d get along with him great and I can trust him.”

“I just…” Rosie’s voice started to trail as the feelings inside her were unable to come out of her mouth.

James’ eyebrows arched as he reached out a hand to rest on her arm, softly prodding, “What?”

There was so much Rosie wanted to say, but she knew at this point it didn’t matter. Everything had been decided for her as it had been for so long and she just quietly admitted, “I just wish I didn’t have to do this.”

Although James moved to wrap his arms around her, pulling her into a gentle hug, Rosie felt anything but comforted. For years she had looked forward to James returning from the Air Force, especially with his voluntary choice to stay in the service for two years longer than was customary for royals. She remembered that call, James explaining that being in the Air Force was the first time he had felt normal, been treated normal, and felt like he had a bigger purpose and that he wanted to stay longer. Rosie knew it meant she had to step up to stay in his shoes longer than anticipated but she was willing to do it for him.

But it was finally going to be her turn. She was going to be able to pull back from the spotlight, disappear the way she had wanted to for so long and try to have some semblance of a normal life. All of that had been ripped away from her in what felt like an instant, prolonging and making her presence on the country even bigger which was the absolute opposite of what she wanted, but Rosie knew she didn’t have a choice.

Two months. She could do anything for two months. And then she’d be free.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Has Lestat always been like this with his feminine sides and sexuality? Because on the show he seems to be embrace and be so free, confident, even audacious about it? But he did want to be a priest, so I wonder if he dealt with internalized queerphobia, Catholic guilt about it etc. Or was it something that didn't happen to him until after he distanced himself from religion? I mean, I know some people have their queer awakenings later in life. Sure this isn't the main plot of TVC, but I wonder if it's an aspect of it at all or if he's one of those characters that just ~are~. Which I'd be totally cool with too, I'm just curious.

Lestat is from a wholly different time.

A while back the portrait that was not used for the show was posted, and there was a very good thread on it, which I encourage you to read here:

The standards of attractiveness and behavior and what was seen attractive have shifted, massively.

In Lestat's time his behavior or clothes would not have seemed feminine. No, it would have been the epitome of male court beauty.

So his learned and later shown behavior reflects what he grew up with, and what he came to embrace in Paris. What he saw at the court. What he, as a nobleman himself, likely was taught at least in rudimentary manner. I am not an historian, but there's lot of articles out there on this.

Now, Lestat probably did not spend too much time on his own queerness or the problems stemming from that.

The monastery was before he had really discovered his sexuality (he was a boy still!), and the manner by which his family destroyed that opportunity for him would obviously close that chapter without any guilt necessary.

So I do not think he carried any catholic guilt with him, on the contrary, he likely carried the acceptance and love the monks showed him instead.

Lestat took what good he could take for himself, and that was little enough. Going to Nicolas was encouraged/driven by his mother Gabrielle in the book, so why should it come with shame?

We will see how they do it in the show, they might want to dip their fingers into the time's homophobia since they extended the timeline, but in the book Nicki and he have only a rather short relationship, actually. And their time in Paris is cut short by Magnus.

So... Lestat both "is" just the way he is - and also this tapping into various aspects is something he grew up with as being completely normal and encouraged for men in his time.

We are all shaped by where and when we grew up, and in which circumstances, and he is no different there.

[gilbirda]

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 25

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

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---

“So you are saying that the Infinite Realms’ government is organized like a dungeons and dragons party?”

Danny snorted and patted Tim’s shoulder. “Jazz’s idea, actually.”

From where she was quietly talking with Bruce, Jazz huffed. “I never said it was a dungeons and dragons party. I only suggested the organization that fit our strengths better.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Potato, potahto.”

Jazz rolled her eyes, but went back to her discussion.

The group was walking towards the gardens, where a light lunch was served. Time went by as the Waynes asked anything and everything about the Realms and their rulers, now that there were no more secrets between them. They talked about Sam and Tucker and Valerie and even about Danielle, her origins and how she joined the team included.

The Fenton siblings enjoyed oversharing in a way that felt weird to the vigilantes, so used to hiding and concealing their thoughts all the time. Now that they were more comfortable, Danny and Jazz didn’t hesitate to act more inhuman around them, with the younger sibling floating when he got excited as if it was the more normal reaction.

It reminded Bruce of his colleagues in the Watchtower break room goofing around and using their powers for the stupidest reasons.

When Tim rejoined them, this time alone, he was more annoyed about losing the bet than missing the ghost royalty status reveal. Danny thought that was the funniest thing, and gladly started a new stream of oversharing information about Jazz’s princess status and all the titles she held, ignoring his sister’s attempts at silencing him.

They didn’t even notice lunch time approaching until Alfred reminded everyone in the house that they had to eat — yes, even their inhuman guests. The last part was added with a pointed glare and a short nod before the man walked away.

So now they were making their way to lunch, which was served outside given the nice weather despite being way into fall, chatting about Team Phantom and their roles in detail.

“So Sam is like the Barbarian of the team?” Tim pressed on. “And Tucker is the Artificer.”

Jazz huffed again.

“We are not—”

“Actually, is not that far from the truth,” Danny chuckled, “but not exactly just that. All of us are at least trained in one main duty and act as a backup for someone else. That guarantees that if one of us has to leave, nothing will be left unattended.”

“Like with Jazz being here.”

He nodded. “Jazz helped Tucker with all the record keeping and research in magical theory, as well as diplomacy and ghost law studies. Valerie helped Jazz with her main duties, and so on and so forth.”

“Magical theory?” Jason asked, one eyebrow arched. “Ghost law?”

“Sounds cool but it's actually just reading a bunch of books and trying to guess what they say.” Danny grumbled, rubbing his face. “I swear there is nothing that can make me pass out faster than reading those fuckers.”

“That’s because you don’t do your homework. Dorathea is a very good teacher.” Jazz chimed with a mocking smile.

Duke interrupted when Danny jumped to answer. “You said that the books weren’t Jazz’s main duty, so what is it?”

The young woman tensed for a second before putting on a gentle smile. It didn’t fool anybody, though. “I am—”

“Jazz.”

She turned towards her brother. “What?”

“Jazz, look.”

She frowned at his serious tone, the boyish glee gone completely, but turned to look at what he was pointing at.

It was a giant painting on the other wall of the room they just passed by, which was featuring a small family — a woman, a man and a child. All three were wearing nice clothes, serene smiles for the portrait.

“What’s the matter?” Bruce stepped closer to see what they were seeing, tensing when he realized what it was. “Why are you pointing at my parents’ portrait?”

The siblings looked at each other. “That’s your mother?” Jazz finally asked.

The look Bruce gave her was equal parts worried and calculating. “Indeed.”

Again Danny and Jazz talked to each other with facial gestures and looks.

“It can’t be.” Danny murmured. “Can it?”

“I don’t know.” She answered.

“Hey.” Jason grabbed Jazz’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

She glanced at her brother, frowning. She licked her lips and drew a long breath. “That’s Lady Gotham.”

One second passed by. Two seconds.

“No, that’s my mother.”

Dick giggled at the absurdity of the situation.

“Could she be wearing someone’s face?” Jazz ignored Bruce’s quiet breakdown to talk to her brother. “Or is it like ‘the Spirit passes down ownership’ kind of situation?”

Danny hummed. “I don’t think it is the second case,” he crossed his arms, “she felt like an Ancient and this woman couldn’t have been dead that long.”

“Are you saying that an ancient spirit is wearing my mother’s face?” The older man said, voice small. Even Jason frowned at the weakness in his tone.

Jazz seemed to snap back to reality and noticed that the conversation may not be the best given current company. She sighed. “We don’t know. Maybe. Was your mother special in any way for this city?”

“Are you kidding? Haven’t you heard about the Martha Wayne foundation? Or all the charity stuff in her name?” Tim scoffed. “Do you live under a rock?”

Jazz blushed. “I’m sorry.” She shrugged. “I don’t pay that much attention to current events outside my work and Crime Alley.”

Jason pretended to try to hide his smile in Jazz’s hair as he pulled her for a side hug.

Danny made a face at the pair, shook his head and turned towards Bruce. “We can’t be a hundred percent sure, but it’s not unheard of for an ancient Spirit to change their appearance. It’s usually to fit in as time passes; but taking the face of a real person from their hunt?” He tilted his head, and Jason noticed the similarity with his sister. It was adorable. “That’s a new one for me.”

“We can always ask?” Jazz tried to move past her misstep.

“Do you really think she’d want to talk about that?”

“Maybe. If we ask nicely.” Neither sibling actually believed these words.

Bruce blinked slowly and started walking again, lost in thought. The rest followed as if nothing even happened.

“Is she really that scary?” Duke asked.

“She is…,” Danny started, rubbing the back of his neck, “she is surely something else. This city is cursed, man; so it doesn’t surprise me that the Spirit overseeing this place is just as cursed.”

“What Danny is trying to say,” Jazz jumped in, “is that the Spirit of Gotham has been deeply corrupted and, well, she’s definitely in pain, and sometimes she lashes out.”

“That’s a nice way to put it,” her brother scoffed, shaking his head and not looking at anybody. “I don't know what nice and watered down version of the story Jazzy here told you guys but when we first came here, she was pissed. King or no King, she was ready to kill me.”

Jazz blushed again. “I don’t—”

“Yes, you do.” Danny rolled his eyes.

She looked like she had something to say, but chose to close her mouth and ignore the chuckles.

They finally arrived at the nice backyard patio where a table was already set up for lunch. Alfred walked around the table with his cart, setting down the plates and giving the finishing touches to the display.

Nobody missed his little smile watching them naturally divide in groups and sit down together, his eyes lingering on Jason refusing to let go of his girlfriend’s hand even under said girlfriend’s brother's snarky comments about it.

It had been a while since the Manor was filled with noise like this. It felt… alive. Like how it was supposed to be.

The old man quietly grabbed his cart and went back inside to plate the second course for the meal. He didn’t glance at the moving shadows and the trickster reflections on the corner of his eyes — after so many decades serving at this Manor, this family, he got used to not being exactly alone inside those walls.

***

“I don’t know how you are going to break it to Frighty.”

Jazz froze mid bite, frowning as she swallowed the food. “What do you mean?”

Bruce raised his eyebrows at Danny’s shocked expression. The young man looked around the table, maybe looking for support or an explanation, but he probably forgot they just met that morning.

“Are you serious?”

“What?”

“You really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Jazz, Fright Knight has been courting you for around a year.”

Tim froze, glancing up to see Jason’s reaction. Expecting loud shouting to start, he was even more shocked when Jason leaned back on his seat and crossed his arms with a giant smirk on his face and a raised eyebrow.

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.” Jazz leaned in, glaring at her brother on the other side of the table.

“Hold on a second,” Dick pushed his empty plate aside to lean closer to Danny, “Fright Knight? The King’s right hand man? The Aspect of Fear?”

“That’s the one!”

“I don’t—” Jazz blinked, “I don’t know— How? When?”

“Uhhhh, since the first siege, I believe?” Danny's smile went from one ear to the other. “He said, and I quote, ‘I had never felt such things in battle before. Lady Jasmine’s war cries pierced my chest deeper than her lance pierced our enemies’.”

Tim shuddered. It was the way Danny impersonated this Fright Knight’s sickening dreamy voice.

“The first siege? That was more than two years ago!”

“And you haven’t noticed this guy being in love with you?” Jason spoke for the first time, grinning at his girlfriend.

“I don’t know?” Jazz threw her hands up. “I thought he was being nice!”

“For a whole year?”

“He’s been giving you courting gifts, Jazz!” Danny said, incredulous. “And you accepted them!”

“So those were courting gifts?”

“What were those gifts?”

“Swords.” Danny answered Jason. “Shiny blades. Ornamental and functional. Jazz has a collection back in the Realms.” He turned towards his sister. “Which, by the way, people keep sending gifts for you. I think they think that you are the ‘reasonable’ one of us and if they send you more swords you’d be more merciful.”

“I don’t need more swords.”

“You liar. You love swords.”

Jazz blushed, unable to say otherwise. “Still nothing he did told me he was interested.”

“Ancients, Jazz,” Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. “Everyone knew he was head over heels for you. We thought you were preferring to deal with it in private.”

Her blush became worse. She kept her gaze fixed on her hands fidgeting with her napkin. “You know I don’t do all the romance stuff.”

Incredulous, Danny just pointed at Jason. “And how do you explain him?”

“It’s…” she licked her lips, “different. Unexpected. We just— we clicked.”

“Awww.”

Danny made a face and rolled his eyes, ignoring Dick and Cass’ cooing.

“Well. I’m not going to be the one dealing with all that. Frighty is all yours.”

Jazz sighed. “I’ll talk to him when I go back to the Realms.”

“Hm.” Danny hummed, suddenly lost in thought as he sipped his water. “Maybe you don’t have to.”

“What?”

“I said: Maybe you don’t have to.” He spoke louder. “Come back, I mean.”

She did a double take. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Danny took a second longer than what was expected. “You can stay here.” He leaned back on his seat, putting as much distance as he could from his sister. He was also evading her eyes. “Permanently.”

There was only the sounds of the birds chirping in the nearby trees and the wind flowing between the leaves for a few seconds.

“Are you—” Jazz’s voice was careful, low, “Are you firing me?”

Half the table was looking at Danny and the other half had their eyes glued on Jazz’s face. Her rage, while quiet, was familiar to those witnessing the moment — betrayals, infightings and disbelief ran though their minds as they remembered similar situations in their pasts.

“Jazz—”

“After everything you just— What the hell Danny?”

“I’m not— Could you at least look at me?” She did, and everyone could see her watery eyes. “It’s for your own good.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Jazz’s expression turned murderous as the tears escaped her eyes. She stood up, teeth grinding, breathing deeply a few times before she opened her mouth.

“You don’t mean that.” She crossed her arms.

Danny looked like he wished he was anywhere else but in that room at that moment. “Bad choice of words. I don’t mean that.” He slowly repeated.

“Good.” Her shoulders relaxed a bit, but she was still mad.

“What I wanted to say is…” He sighed and lifted his hands in defeat. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at— You know I always mess these things up— Okay, okay I’ll get to the point.” He quickly added under Jazz’s narrowing eyes. He breathed in, breathed out. “I want you to stay here. In the living world. As long as you want.”

She processed his words, and slowly sat back down. The sounds of nature around them picked up like nothing happened, even if no one had noticed their rather unnatural silence.

“But you said…”

“I know. But things have changed, Jazz. I want you to stay. How could I not be okay with that?”

“But— But my role— And the Archives, and Walker, and—”

“Everything can wait. Or, I don’t know, we’ll deal with it.” He leaned in and took one of her hands in his. “We told you to come here because you really needed a vacation, and I stand by it. The Keep can wait for you. I can wait for you.”

“But—”

“Jasmine Fenton. You have given up everything for me. You were not meant for any of this ghost bullshit or war or fist fighting gods in a Denny’s parking lot. But you gave me a decade of that, and I appreciate it, but that’s enough. You can rest now, you can have nice things. You deserve it.”

Nobody missed when Danny gave Jason, and quick look around the people on the table, when he mentioned the “nice things” she could have.

Jazz opened her mouth only to close it again, more tears coming to her eyes. Her cheeks tinted red, maybe from embarrassment, maybe for remnants of her anger.

She yanked her hand from her brother’s and rushed to her feet, taking a shaky breath.

“Excuse me.”

Jason frowned, watching her go back inside the house and probably looking for a place to calm down.

He felt a kick on one leg.

“Go.” Danny interlaced his hands on the table and nodded in his sister’s general direction. “She needs you.”

Jason’s frown deepened, but he obliged without saying a word.

Bruce cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very self conscious under Danny’s stare. The young man didn’t look affected by what just happened like his sister was, but his eyes betrayed the conflicted emotions he hid behind his mask.

“I’m sorry you guys had to witness that. I should have waited until we got home. My bad.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, but it felt like forced nonchalance.

“That was sure something.” Dick commented after clearing his throat.

“I apologize but I need to ask,” Bruce leaned in. “Jasmine seemed pretty adamant her time here was limited, that she would sooner or later have to leave everything here. What changed?”

“Did she tell you that?” Danny made an incredulous face and scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t even need to ask. I don’t know why I keep being surprised by her antics.”

“So it’s not true?”

What else had she been lying about? A tiny voice said in the back of Bruce’s head. He tried to ignore it, but given the drastic differences between Danny’s and Jazz’s behavior, he was wondering what was the actual picture and what was the siblings’ casual omission of truth.

“It was true, but only because she herself sets those limits. Jazz is…,” he sighed, deflating on his seat, looking at the sky, “I love my sister, and a lot, but she takes everything too seriously.”

Or you don’t take things seriously enough, Bruce thought, but chose not to say it.

“I never said she had a time limit, or that she had to turn her back on the living world for the rest of her life. We sent her ass to the Arkham internship because she doesn’t know how to take a break.”

“Arkham is a break?” Tim asked what had been lingering in everyone’s heads. The siblings kept referring to working at the worst psychiatric criminal facility, a vacation and a break.

Danny scoffed again, turning his eyes towards the young man. His smile wasn’t kind. “You guys haven’t put it together? The kind of role Jazz has in the Realm. The kind of person she… The kind of person I asked her to become.”

There was deep guilt in his voice, and in the way he couldn’t hold his gaze. Danny fidgeted with his napkin, letting the birds sing the tension of his silence away. They were waiting on him to elaborate, and he knew that, but was building the courage to speak.

“Do you guys know how powerful I am? No, you don’t,” he answered himself with a shrug, “because there’s no one like me. I could— If I wanted to, I could bring this city, the whole city, into the Infinite Realms. Just like that.

If I wanted to I could end the war with a snap of my fingers. I could Order every ghost-adjacent being to follow my every command and bring peace via total domination. Or,” he stopped his fingers, sighing, “I could just rip their cores with a thought and crush them with another and be done with Vlad and with every stubborn ghost that thinks I don’t deserve to be King.”

He finally glanced up at Bruce, as if he knew all these scenarios passed though the man’s head as he spoke. “Imagine that — Every conflict, every war, I could wish it away in seconds.”

The older man nodded, following his speech. “And yet you are here.”

Danny’s vulnerable smile reminded him so much of Clark’s. “I can’t. I can’t do that. If I— If I just eliminate every little thing in my way, what kind of person would I be? I’ve seen it happen, Bruce. I know what I could be if I lose perspective of who I really want to be.”

Cass lifted her hand like she was in a classroom. “Jazz. She’s your anchor.”

Danny went back to looking at his hands, shoulders sagging. In shame? In defeat? “All of them keep me grounded, even when I feel like I’m drifting away from who I used to be. But Jazz? She knows what needs to be done, what I’m scared to do. She knows she can handle the guilt and the nightmares and the horror.”

He took a long breath to calm himself. “Jazz is what I can’t— what I won’t be, and she took that burden like it was nothing. She has always done that, taking the bad things and dealing with them for me. It’s just… This time, the ‘bad things’ are a little bit more permanent.”

It made sense now. How she avoided talking about it, how Jazz tensed when she was asked what her role was. How she was so comfortable at Arkham.

“She’s your Executioner.”

Danny flinched at Bruce’s words. “She’s that and more. She became a counterpart for me, a shadow, so I could shine in the spotlight. A symbol.” He said the word like it was a curse. Bruce didn’t miss the twitch in his eyebrow. “Do you know why her armor is bright red?” His smile wasn’t kind when he looked up. “The Infinite Realms are green. She stands out and attracts all the attention in battle so the rest of us can be the heroes of the hour.” He chuckled. “She never wanted any of this. She didn’t defeat the previous King, she wasn’t even there. I know my childhood could have been way worse if she wasn’t in my life, and I’m grateful, but I kept asking more and more from her and now—”

“Do you really think I didn’t want this?” Jazz’s voice cut through Danny’s rambles. “I chose to stay, Danny.”

He didn’t react when he saw her walk in, her face puffy and her eyes still wet. Did he know she was listening? Of course he did — from what the vigilantes could gather so far, Danny’s abilities were up there with Superman’s. Maybe even more.

“Don’t.” He frowned. “I can see right through your bullshit, Jazz. There wasn’t that much of a choice and you know it.”

She bit her lips, but didn’t deny it. Instead, she pulled on her joined hands with Jason’s so they approached the table and sat down.

After settling in her seat, she breathed in, breathed out and smiled. “You are making me sound like some kind of demon or something.” Nobody bought the lightness of her tone.

Danny caught her deflection and chose to follow. He scoffed. “And you are not?” He made a gesture with his hands, placing them on the sides of his head with his pointer fingers up, imitating his sister’s headpiece.

She rolled her eyes. “I am not—”

“Jazzy, fear incarnate is in love with you. He let you ride his horse!” He smirked at Jason. “Not an euphemism.”

He caught on what the siblings were trying to do and turned towards his girlfriend. “You never told me about any horse, darling.”

“Nightmare was a strategic move. Frighty knows I can’t fly like the rest of you and it could give me an advantage during battle.”

“Nightmare? Seriously?” Jason asked.

“Big black horse with wings.” She quickly explained with a shrug. “Breathes fire.”

“Are you serious? Fright Knight doesn’t let me even touch his horse and I’m the King!” He threw his hands up in the air. “That being said, he doesn’t challenge me as much as he does with you, and thanks the Ancients for that.”

“Wait. Wait a second. Are you saying—”

Danny’s smile grew like a Cheshire Cat’s. “Ooohhhh. You didn’t know? Did you forget the one basic fact about ghost nature, Jazzy-pants? Ghost’s love language is fighting.” He said the last part imitating her voice, like she was giving a lecture of some kind.

“Oh? Tell me more?” Jason leaned towards Danny, head leaning on one hand, completely enraptured by the information his girlfriend’s brother shared so easily.

“And he wasn’t pulling any punches either. Before I learned he was formally courting her, I wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight her to death or marry her!”

“He could do both if he’s not a coward.” Jason shared the smile with Danny, ignoring Jazz’s hands pushing his shoulder away from her.

“Hey!” Jazz protested, but there was a small smile on her lips. “Don’t encourage him!”

“Wait until I tell you about The Ballad of the Red Demon.” Danny also ignored his sister, and the eyes of the rest of the Waynes, as he summoned a notebook with more green flames. He cleared his throat, opened the notebook and started reading:

“The fire in her eyes burned brighter than any sun, as the sharp edge of her blade pierced your chest to meet your untimely end.

Don’t provoke the Red Demon, for her burning fury will consume you in a blaze hotter than the Realm’s Core.

There she rides the winged Dark Horse as her cries call for the blood of her enemies, bright green eyes already searching for the next target.

Don’t provoke the Red Demon, for her siren’s call will be the last thing you hear before you draw your last breath.”

“What in the Ancients is that?” Realization came to the young woman. She slapped the table and stood up. “Ghost Writer?”

Danny nodded. “He gave me the first draft to approve before getting into editing.” He shook the notebook closer to his sister. “There’s a chapter for each of us, don’t think it’s just about you.”

He rolled his eyes and reopened the notebook, getting ready to continue reading, but Jazz jumped and reached across the table trying to snatch the notebook before he continued. He managed to float away just in time to prevent her from taking it from him, and quickly flew high enough that she couldn’t reach him, but close enough that he was almost within reach.

“Awww, you don’t want our new friends to know about your feats during the last siege? About—” he glanced at the text, quickly murmuring words under his breath, “‘Her fiery hair glows like a damned halo’ and ‘sharp blade like a gentle kiss of death’ something something ‘crushing enemies under her foot’.”

Jazz was trying to jump high enough so she could catch her brother, her face crimson red as the others chuckled at the scene.

Finally, taking pity on her, Jason reached for the book as Danny was distracted reading the next stanza and seized it away from the floating Fenton.

“Thank you.” She breathed in relief, extending her hand so he could give her the notebook.

With a tiny smile, he opened it and tried to read too, but it was written in symbols he felt he recognized but couldn’t read.

“Do you have an official translation yet or do I have to wait?”

---

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[iris-qt]

𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚖

☕️ ʙʟᴀɪꜱᴇ ᴢᴀʙɪɴɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☕️ ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

☕️ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

☕️ ᴀ/ɴ: ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰɪᴄ ɪᴠᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ꜱᴏ ꜰᴀʀ

☕️ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ʙʟᴀɪꜱᴇ ᴢᴀʙɪɴɪ ꜱᴛᴜᴍʙʟᴇꜱ ᴀᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴜꜱᴇᴜᴍ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴇɴᴅ ᴜᴘ ꜱᴘᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ…ᴘᴇʀʜᴀᴘꜱ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ꜰᴀʟʟ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

“Order for Blaise..er Zucchini?”

Blaise scoffed, rolling his eyes as the frazzled ginger barista in that muggle café tarnished his name. He strode up to the counter, grabbing his nightly cup of coffee.

“Cool name, man,” the barista said, and Blaise couldn’t help but think he bore an uncanny resemblance to Ron Weasley. Don’t be silly, Blaise. Not all gingers look the same. 

Blaise answered him with a disdainful look and walked off, into the cold winter air. Winter break from Hogwarts was great and all; aside from the fact his father forced him to intern at the Ministry. He had just finished his shift and was in much need of some coffee. As difficult as it was for him to admit, muggles sure knew how to brew some nice, strong coffee. Bitter and pure black bean juice. Just the way he liked it.

His black woolen trench coat billowed around him as he braved the winter wind, finally entering back into wizarding London. He walked down the usual high streets, sipping his scalding hot coffee every now and then. Of course Blaise could just apparate home, but why would he be in any rush to return? He’d already spent all day at the Ministry doing his father’s tedious, excruciating paperwork and his return back home would simply include interrogation from his father about the manner in which he completed the paperwork.

Work, work, and more work. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. 

He detoured to the wide luxury streets filled with shops selling the most high-brand robes and cloaks. Looking around, Blaise passed the vast marble building known to be the largest wizard art museum. Domus Artium. Latin for The House of Arts. There was a small line of well-dressed witches and wizards milling about and making their way in. Upon closer inspection to a giant plastered poster, there was some sort of art curator and historian event occurring. 

Blaise couldn’t stop his curiosity and made his way inside…

Moving art as far as the eye could see. Nighttime is when the portraits no longer have to stay in their own frames and act polite to the museum’s visitors. Night is when they could run free and visit their friends in a frame in another wing. He’d never been to this museum despite living so close. His family only valued art when it served to display their wealth and power.

He strode inside, aware he was not invited, but it wasn’t his fault the man in charge of the guests that came in was too busy talking up some older woman. Plus, he was Blaise Zabini. What were they going to do? Kick him out? Laughable.

He was walking down the corridor which contained a few people observing the paintings. Looking behind him to make sure he was clear, he rounds the corner and runs into someone, yelping as his coffee flies into the air.

The person he ran into expertly flicks their wand and freezes the coffee in midair, returning it back to the cup and the cup back in Blaise’s outstretched hand.

“Are you supposed to be here?” you smirk, slightly surprised at Zabini’s presence at your gallery. He straightens his black formal shirt and gazes warily at you.

“Y/L/N..uh yes..I’m a huge art enthusiast,” he scratches the back of his head as you lean in teasingly, taking in his familiar expensive scent. Was that black cherry? You could never puzzle it out. You mused at his slightly panicked expression. You had a knack for always catching Blaise at his worst moments. 

“Oh yeah? What’s your favorite art piece in this gallery?”

Blaise, however, found you absolutely infuriating. Such a know-it-all. He thought the worst part about it was that you acted so clueless and normal…then you pounced with your genius knowledge. Absolutely infuriating. Everything about you. From your perfectly styled hair to your little uniform you were wearing that just so happened to accentuate every possible curve…

He shook his head. No way he was falling prey to your witchy charms. He’d never be caught dead.

“That’s quite a difficult question. So many pieces come to mind.”

“Oh I’m sure,” you smile, biting back a louder laugh at this piece of gorgeous free entertainment that just waltzed into your domain.

“I suppose the one with the ballerinas.”

“I sure hope you’re not talking about that one painting on the History of Magic O.W.L. exam last year?”

He sighs, realizing there was no way in hell he’d get past you. Well, he wasn’t quite sure how you were here in the first place. He wasn’t aware you held any high place in society.

“Don’t you think dressing up as a museum curator to sneak in seems a bit desperate?” he smirks, looking you up and down in your formal uniform, flicking your little name tag. 

“For your information, Zabini, I work here on breaks,” you dramatically spread out your arms, grinning “welcome to my crib.” 

He scoffs in response. “You expect me to just believe you got a flexible job at an esteemed place such as this?”

“My family owns this place, genius.”

He raises an eyebrow in surprise. Surely he’d know if you held such a high place in society.

“Merlin, you don’t know anything about art do you, Zabini? Not even my family name?”

He averts his eyes. There’s nothing he hated more than admitting he was wrong or didn’t know something. That’s precisely why he found you so frustrating for he was always somehow in the wrong when it came to you.

To his surprise, and to yours as you’re not sure where this burst of confidence came from, you grabbed his hand and began leading him down a darkened corridor, blocked off by a sign that said ‘DO NOT ENTER’. His hand was cold from the harsh winds outside and you grasped it, hoping he would find some warmth in you. Blaise was someone you’d always felt content with. He wasn’t intimidated by you nor was he avoidant. He resisted every teasing comment and challenging situation you threw at him. He was insanely stubborn and arrogant. And you lived for it. His little frustrated faces and his neverending efforts to upend you. You could spend the rest of your life doing that with this man that was now in your grasp.

“Perhaps you need another set of eyes because that sign clearly advised us not to submerge ourselves in this dark hall,” Blaise deadpanned, attempting to hide the shiver of excitement your touch brought him. You were warm and he had to fight the urge to bury his ice cold nose in your neck. Thank Merlin it was pitch black so you couldn’t see his flustered expression.

With a mutter of a spell, the entire room you had led them into lit up. The floating candles burst with warm flames, dancing along the walls, as some of the remaining figures in the portraits grumbled as they awoke. 

“My apologies, Hecate,” you muttered to a painting of the powerful ancient Greek goddess of magic who was glaring at you from her lounge chair.

Blaise couldn’t help but be in awe of the various paintings lining the walls. Of course the walls of Hogwarts were littered with various paintings, but none as skillfully made as these.

“Gorgeous, aren’t they?” you leaned your elbow on Blaise’s shoulder simply to fluster him, looking up at his sculpted, ethereal face. Merlin, if you took Blaise to the marble statue portion of the museum, it wouldn’t be hard to observe the godly resemblance between statue and Zabini.

“I can’t believe I’ve never visited this place..” Blaise mutters under his breath, gazing in awe at the various works of art. This beautiful building was just a few blocks from his penthouse home, and he could not believe he had never stepped foot inside. He knew now that he could get lost in here for hours among the art.

And that’s precisely what you and Blaise did. You slowly made your way around the room, stopping at the plaques so Blaise could read the information and facts about the paintings. You’d already memorized most of them, so you took the time to study his gorgeous face. Hours went by as the clock waned down to the wee hours of 3 am. Sharing in little quips and jokes, Blaise became aware of why he always found you so fascinating. Why he ceased to be interested in anyone else from his first moments with you. You were so passionate and beautiful as they circled the various rooms of the vast museum. He loved standing, observing the paintings, while being shoulder to shoulder with you. Heart coming to life at the slightest touch.

The sleepless night brought a sense of delirium as you couldn’t contain your laughter. You and Blaise walked around, tripping over each other, giggling like little maniacs at the silliest things. Distant noises, certain paintings, gossip that Blaise oh so loved to share,

“Is it just me, or does that troll resemble Crabbe?” You gestured, snickering, toward a painting of an Icelandic troll, who was kicking a rotted tree stump.

“What? I assumed that was a self portrait?” Blaise burst into yet another fit of laughter 

A nearby cherub began playing its harp, the melancholy music reverberating around the circular marble room. The candles twinkled, wax dripping down and evaporating into twinking magic before they could fall any further. The crescent moon was visible from the domed glass ceiling, and as you looked up, Blaise gazed at the moon reflected in your smiling eyes. In a trance, he watched you; a goddess in the moonlight.

“Earth to Zabini?” you waved your hand in front of his face, laughing softly at his dazed expression.

On a whim, Blaise held out his silver ring-clad hand; slender fingers reaching for yours in the atmosphere of the ethereal harp music.

“May I have this dance?” he said, smirking his smitten smirk.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his cheesy grin but, of course, take this beautiful man’s hand anyway, his rings cold to the touch. 

He gently held your hand as he sweeped you around the candlelit room; eyes meeting under the twinkling flames. Blaise’s deep eyes, usually cold, melted like milk chocolate at the sight of you twirling. He held you as gently as if you were a fractured ancient statue. As if you could break at a touch. He never wanted this moment to end. He never wanted to leave your museum. He could stay here forever. 

The moment ended and the both of you broke apart. The cherub in the painting ceased to play its harp with one last, hauntingly beautiful note. Blaise couldn’t help but gaze upon you in the dim light. He couldn’t help but realize that this was the most magical day of his life. And he’s literally a wizard. You leaned in and hugged him tight, face buried in his chest. You never wanted this to end. You wanted to be held in his arms forever. But alas every moment must end, as your aunt briskly walked into the room, her echoing footsteps warning you fast enough to pull apart before she could see. She looked frazzled, holding a small piece of parchment.

“Y/n...Mr. Zabini what are you doing in my museum?” She looked slightly angry.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” You walked up to her, looking nervous at her unusually negative expression.

“Mr. Zabini’s father has sent me a letter stating that witnesses saw his son walk in here and it looks like they were not incorrect,” she glares at you. “Do you know what time it is, Y/N? Its 4am. Why would you sneak him in here?”

“Auntie, calm down. We just lost track of time..”

“Lost track of time?? Do you know what his father could do to our museum? With one bad review in the Daily Prophet we could be practically shut down. We’re definitely on his bad side now…” your aunt muttered, hiding her face in her hands.

Blaise walks up and addresses your aunt “Mrs. Y/L/N, I assure you this was all my own fault. I was curious to see what event was going on and got distracted by your wonderful collection of art. I deeply apologize and I shall profusely inform my father this is my own doing and ensure your museum will not be bashed in the Daily Prophet. My job is to overlook the writing my father sends out anyway,” he warmly smiles at her.

After she walks away, convinced and apologizing for her outburst, you turn to Blaise, folding your arms teasingly.

“Looks like you were out past your bedtime, Zabini.”

He scoffs fondly, taking your waist in his arms again, leaning his head on you. You couldn’t help but blush as that, averting your confident gaze much to Blaise’s amusement.

“You work here everyday during this break, right?”

“Mhm.”

He grins widely, his gorgeous chocolate skin breaking into smile lines that you had to fight the urge to kiss.

“I’ll be visiting everyday for…research purposes,” he winks dramatically and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’d be more than happy to assist you on your research endeavors, Blaise.”

“Perfect, because I’ll be specifically requesting you,” he whispers, gaze averting to your lips.

You lean up to reach his perfect lips and they connect, a flame brighter than all the candles on the ceiling igniting within the both of you. 

[triangle-strategy-notes]

Trish Concept Art

Trish's concept art! Translation notes and image ids under the cut.

Translation notes:

Full disclosure that I did this page a few months ago and forgot to write down notes as I did it, so I can't actually remember all the hiccups I ran into. So take these page's translations with even more skepticism than normal haha.

"Comes back swinging every time" was more literally "Gets up/comes back many times without getting discouraged."

"Leave it to me" might have also been "don't leave it to me". It has a negative particle so I was leaning towards translating it as "don't," but every auto-translator I ran it through ignored the "don't," which leads me to believe it might be an idiom of some sort, so I left the "don't" off. "Leave it to me" also seems to make more sense contextually.

The whole "mother supports the father's weak points" read pretty ambiguously to me. I'm not sure if they're talking about Travis (who's labeled "Father") or if they're referring to that faintly-pictured guy to the right of the family sketch. Since the arrow is there pointing towards the faintly-pictured guy, I'm inclined to say it's talking about him, but I'm not certain.

Image ids:

[id: Two pages of concept art from the Triangle Strategy artbook centered around Trish. The first page has a colored and uncolored version of her canon portrait, as well as a designer's note that reads, "In the beginning, I requested this character be drawn as someone who fights in a yet-peaceful setting (i.e., a character who isn't introduced as a fighter on any one side of the war). I remember that Mr. Ikushima was very excited to complete it. (Yasuaki Arai)". The second page is labeled, "Bandit Girl", and has several additional sketches of her. On the top half there's a note that reads, "Thief clan color test, picturing their hideout somewhere in Country A." There's a large color drawing of Trish next to it, with a label to her hair that reads, "Red hair." There's a smaller sketch of Trish spinning a bolas weapon around that's labeled "Weapon idea", as well as "Special Weapon 'Bolas'" and "Tangles around an animal's legs and immobilizes it." The second half of the page is labeled just "Bandit". There is a large sketch of Trish in what appears to be a bar fight. There are a list of bullet points beside her reading, "Hard to dislike, Tomboy, Comes back swinging every time, Short-tempered". There's another sketch of her family and herself as a young child, with her mother and father labeled. There's also another man drawn faintly to their right who appears to be Trish's grandfather. A note reads, "The father organized and led the previous generation of thugs and was well-respected for it. The mother supported the father's weak points." Another sketch of Trish has the dialogue, "Leave it to me," as well as a caption that reads, "I grew up carefree, surrounded by thugs!" Another drawing of Trish standing with some of her father's band has the note, "She has a pop/mascot type of look in this pose." There are two illustrator's notes at the bottom. The first reads, "She's so cute with her flashy grin and arms folded like her father. She even got her curly hair from him…….! (Rina Yoshiura)" The second reads, "I like the bandit girl Trish as a set with her father! I like lively and easy-to-understand characters, so they were easy to come up with. (Naoki Ikushima)" /end id]

[kasagia]

Heyy so I read your one shot called together and it made me think of a similar request what if the reader is also elena's younger sister but she never wanted to be a vampire and she used to date stefan in highschool instead of elena like in the imagine but what if she doesn't completely break up with stefan so she and klaus have a secret affair and then one day elena catches them and she ends up kicking her out and it also happens to be the same night stefan learns the truth so he kidnaps her and drives her to wickery bridge like he did with elena in season 3 and ends up turning her in front of klaus when he arrives and then klaus takes her to his mansion and convinces her to feed when she doesn't want to and promises to protect her It would be great if you could write about this<3

Cheater on the bridge

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Elena's sister! reader, Stefan Salvatore x Elena's sister! reader Summary: You've been sneaking around with Klaus for several months now, cheating on your boyfriend, Stefan. You feel terrible about it, but you're afraid to break up with Stefan because you don't know how he'll react to it. However, Elena finds out about your little affair. And everything goes to hell. Warning(s): the reader betrays Stefan, death, blood, turning into a vampire, curses, Klaus Mikaelson, etc. Word count: 5,2k

You knew you were doing very wrong and awful thing. You had a sweet, loving boyfriend, Stefan Salvatore, who would do anything to see you happy. You had great friends and family, good grades in school—you were living your teenage dream.

But then you met Klaus Mikaelson.

And you wanted more.

As soon as your eyes met, you felt that shiver of excitement run down your entire body. He too, without knowing why, became interested in you. Y/N Gilbert. The doppelgänger's sister, the girlfriend of Stefan Salvatore, whom the Mystic Gang wanted to protect at all costs from all this supernatural shit.

But then, when Stefan walked over to you and, placing his hand on your waist, led you out of the Mystic Grill under Klaus' watchful eye, you knew your life would never again be the peaceful routine you were used to.

And you were excited about it.

When Elena would have given anything for a normal, peaceful life like yours, you had an overwhelming urge to go on a dangerous adventure. Create amazing, exciting memories. And Klaus noticed it. He noticed how you were suffocating in this structured relationship and in the perfect life of an ordinary man. And he was going to take advantage of it.

In your defense, you resisted him. Really.

You sent back all the ridiculously expensive gifts like dresses, jewelry, a car, and your own horse when he found out you were taking extra riding lessons after school.

So Klaus changed tactics. He started sending you pencil portraits he'd drawn, leaving little notes with compliments and poems he'd written (the guy was amazing at praising your beauty). And you, being forever that girl locked up in the fantasy world of books and appreciating a good old Jane Austen or Brontë sisters book romance, fell into his trap.

So after he courted you, saying so many beautiful words and leaving thousands of small gifts, you gave in to him.

The tension between you must have snapped one day. And it was exactly on your 18th birthday that both your boyfriend and friends forgot about this important day for you. But Klaus remembered. And he took you to fucking Norway so you could see the Northern Lights for yourself. Let's just say the day ended so well for both of you that you made use of Klaus' long-lost villa and stayed there all weekend.

Klaus turned out to be more than willing to keep you in his arms for longer.

It was supposed to be just a one-night stand. One thing he would point out to a vamp getting on his nerves the next time he got a chance. But one night turned into two, three, four, and honestly? Klaus has already lost count of the number of times one of you ended up in the other's bed.

There was something about you that delighted Klaus and drew him to you whenever you were in each other's presence. The worst part was that neither of you could resist this strange force that drew you to each other. Of course, only for you. You didn't want to break your cute boyfriend's heart, but you couldn't resist those gorgeous blue eyes, alluring lips, and talented hands of a powerful, terrifying hybrid that somehow wanted only you in his bed and by his side. Klaus, on the other hand, didn't care about anything other than making sure you were somehow in his presence every day. Whether it was just a few minutes of conversation, lunch, dinner and breakfast, or quick, hot, stolen moments in your bedroom.

The guilt grew inside you every time you were close to Stefan. You swore to yourself that you would sever whatever ties tie you to the hybrid, but every time you saw Klaus, whatever rational decision you made just got lost in your mind.

You were too busy with Klaus' overwhelming feeling on your body to care about anything else in the world.

Over time, your trysts turned into something more. You talked to each other and enjoyed the mere presence of the other without having to do any "adult stuff".

You were starting to feel more than lust for him. And it terrified you. But you were too deeply into Klaus Mikaelson to just walk away from him. To let go forever that feeling of excitement every time you sneaked up on each other and the overwhelming feeling that only a hybrid could make you feel. Klaus has destroyed you for any other man. And you both knew it. Just like the fact that you had control over him too.

And now, lying with him in his bed, snuggling after very long hours of activities, you realized one thing: You fell for the devil, who was sleeping peacefully while holding you close to him.

You shifted slightly in his arms so that you could cup his cheek with your hand. That damn handsome face was the cause of all your moral battles going on within you. Because how could you fall in love with a man who sacrificed your sister in a ritual and nearly killed your aunt Jenna? How could you love someone who threatened to kill your loved ones? And most of all... how, despite his many sins, were you able to still see in him the shadow of humanity that he carefully hid from the world?

"I can almost feel your cerebral convolutions burn out." he muttered, snapping you out of his thoughts. He opened one eye, staring at you searchingly. "What are you thinking about?"

"About you. I feel like I've only been thinking about you lately."

"Is that wrong?" he asked, propping his head up with one hand and playing with your hair with the other.

"I don't know yet." you whispered, staring at him. You could spend the rest of your life like this. Lying next to this captivating 1,000-year-old vampire. The question is, did he share your feelings?

"So let me reassure you and say that you, too, appear in my head more often than I could possibly allow, love. Thinking about those beautiful lips or enchanting eyes has nearly ruined my plans more than once."

"Always so good with words."

"And in many other things, my little human." he murmured, leaning in to cup your lips in a tender, slow kiss.

That's how things were with Klaus: slow, tempting, irritating, until the flame between you, fueled by those little banters, started to grow to the point where you both burned each other. And it was a feeling you never wanted to deprive yourself of. It doesn't matter how unethical and unfair it was to the people close to you.

The ringing of your phone snapped you out of this haze of pleasure. You somehow pushed Klaus away from you and reached for your phone on the nightstand. Elena. You groaned. The last thing you wanted was to talk to your sister.

"Be quiet for a minute, please." you asked the hybrid before you answered the phone. "Elena? What's going on?"

"Where are you?"

"House."

"I'm home and you're nowhere to be found. Where are you?!"

"God, take it easy! You didn't let me finish. I'm at a friend's house." Klaus raised an inquiring eyebrow, smiling and barely holding back a laugh. You punched him lightly in the chest, making him chuckle louder.

"Is it a male laugh? Who are you with? What friend is this?"

"This is Bob! You know Bob from my English class. We were writing an essay together. I told you about him, didn't I?"

"Just go back home. We need to talk." you hung up, staring furiously at the man below you.

"I asked you!" you screamed, hitting the hybrid with your pillow as he burst out laughing at you.

"I'm sorry, love. But you're a terrible liar."

"Well, I'm good enough for Elena to believe me. You should be glad. You won't have a group of angry vampires storming your house." you said, throwing the pillow back into place and laying down next to Klaus again. You could have stolen a few more moments with him before returning to that circus known as your home.

"Love, you know very well that they wouldn't have the slightest chance against me." he bragged, giving you a flick on your nose which made you giggle.

"Yes, yes. You are a stunningly handsome, powerful hybrid that everyone trembles before in fear."

"I know it perfectly well, but you don't know how wonderful it is to hear it from your lips." he murmured, pulling you to him by your chin for another kiss.

"Nik. I have to go home, you've heard by yourself."

"Stay a little longer." he murmured as he kissed the way along your neck and shoulder. "I'll find you an excuse."

"You kidnapped me last week. They won't fall for it for the 5th time."

"That's what you said the last time. And guess what..." he murmured, biting into the sensitive spot under your ear.

Before you got lost in each other again, you pushed him away, straddling him. He didn't care at all, continuing to kiss every inch of your exposed skin.

"I'll come to you in the morning before you're even up. Maybe I'll even skip my class."

"I hold you to your word." he murmured, sucking on a hickey just below your collarbone. You groaned, grabbing his blonde curls. "Now run away. If you're late tomorrow, I'll come get you myself, love."

"I hold you to your word, the mighty hybrid."

~•♤♤♤•~

"Elena, I'm home!" you shouted as you stepped over the threshold. You set your bag down by the entrance, looking around the house for any sign of your sister. "It would be nice if you would answer since you've already brought me here."

You went to the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of juice. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a note stuck to the fridge.

I went away with Damon for the weekend, Jeremy is staying with a friend tonight. Don't do any parties. Elena.

A whole house to yourself for the night? That could only mean one thing. You took your phone out of your pocket, smiling to yourself.

"Klaus? What are you doing tonight?"

~•♤♤♤•~

"No! Don't even tell me that you did it!" you laughed with the hybrid as he told you about one of his feuds with famous people.

You really wanted to see him throw an apple at Einstein.

"You know me, love. I'm not famous for my angelic patience."

"You are not famous for anything angelic at all."

"We're very brave today, aren't we? You know that teasing the original hybrid is not a good idea." he murmured, cupping my cheek with his hand and caressing my lips with his thumb. "First, you ran away from me sooner than I wanted, and then you told me to come here as fast as I could."

'Aren't you happy to be here?" you asked, putting your hands on his shoulders and playing with his hair.

"I am…" he pulled you to his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist. "But I'm not yet your boyfriend, who you could boss around."

"Yet?" you asked teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

"Yhm... yet." he murmured, catching your lips in a greedy kiss.

You moaned at the familiar, wonderful feeling of his soft lips on yours. You grabbed his necklace and dragged him into the living room with you.

With your wonderful grace, instead of sitting with him on the couch, you tripped over the coffee table. You groaned in pain, breaking the kiss and grabbing your sore leg. You would have fallen if not for your lover's strong arms.

"Fuck." you groaned, knowing full well that soon you'd have a new bruise to add to your collection.

"My clumsy little human. Come here, let me look at your terrible wound." he knelt down in front of you with a smirk, rolling up your trouser leg with unusual delicacy for him.

"Hey! This little human is capable of bringing the most powerful vampire on earth to his knees before her. Don't you dare underestimate me."

"Never, love." he murmured, before putting his lips to the spot you hit, making you shiver as soon as his plump lips made contact with your skin.

"I can kiss it better, but we both know that my blood is more effective."

"No! Only humans ways." you screamed in a panic. Klaus' wounded face quickly made you feel remorse for your sudden outburst. It wasn't his fault that you didn't want anything to do with the supernatural, and you certainly didn't want to take the risk of having vampire blood in your system. Typically, such a person ended up dead, waiting for his transformation. Even though your lover and boyfriend were vampires, eternity wasn't for you. "But it would be great if you took me to my bedroom."

"I don't think you're so hurt that you can't move on your own, love." he said with an amused smirk.

"That's because you've been invulnerable for a thousand years. You don't even know what a life-threatening condition I'm in right now. The only cure is my comfortable bed and your warm arms around me."

"Well, then I have to make sure my favorite human survives." he took you in his arms, laughing at how quickly you wrapped your hands around him.

With the skill of stealth practiced over months, he went straight to your room. Even knowing that no one but you is at home. It's just that both of you are used to hiding from the eyes of your friends and his family by now.

From the scowl on Klaus' face as soon as you entered the room, you could tell he looked again at the photo (of you and Stefan kissing) on your nightstand that he hated.

"You should burn it." he grunted, setting you down on the bed and standing tense in front of you, obviously not going to join you.

"It's a picture of me and my boyfriend. If he suddenly disappears, Elena and gang might get suspicious."

"Next time Kol and I fight them in here, I'll make sure it lands in the fireplace."

"Mr. Mikaelson... are you jealous?" you asked with a mischievous smirk, pulling him to you so that he was straddling you.

"No." he murmured as he kissed you and knocked the photo frame onto the carpet with one hand. "We both know who you really belong to. And one day, when you pluck up the courage to drop our ripper... I'd be happy to tell him what I've been doing with his sweet, tempting, resourceful girlfriend." he bit your neck, making you moan as he grabbed his shoulders. "And believe me, love, I'll tell him about all the beautiful sounds you made for me."

"Nik..." you moaned, grabbed his hair, and pulled him into another desperate kiss.

Too lost in each other's touch, lips, and scent, you didn't notice that someone had entered the house until your room door opened.

"Y/N you can't even imagine what Damon did. Y/N?!" your sister screamed as soon as she saw you making out with her worst enemy. "What are you doing?! And with him?! You're dating Stefan!"

"You want me to leave you two alone?" he asked, not bothering with the angry brunette. He watched you with obvious concern in his blue eyes as you tried to control your horror at the romance being wasted.

And by whom! Months of careful hiding, only to be discovered by Elena.

"Yes! Get out of here, Klaus!" your sister screamed, trying to push him out of the room, to which the hybrid didn't react at all. He just stared at you, waiting patiently for your response.

"It's okay. You can go. I'll call you later." you assured him with a gentle smile. Klaus stared at you unconvinced for a moment, but finally nodded and left, not forgetting to kiss you on the forehead and shoot Elena a murderous glare.

You sighed as the hybrid left the room. You knew you could feel completely safe with him when you were alone. But with the equally furious (and impetuous) Elena in the same room? Hell would break loose. And you doubted your sister would be lucky enough to survive this time.

"What the hell was that?! Do you have any idea what you're even doing?! YOU'RE CHEATING ON STEFAN! And with who?! The original who nearly killed me and Jenna!"

"Are you finished? Close the door behind you, you're making a draft."

"Is that what you meant? Were you trying to make me mad by making out with him in our house? You could at least spare Stefan the embarrassment and break up with him before you fucked Klaus like a whore."

"Really? Are you trying to make this about yourself? God, you're more fucked up than me, Elena. At least I don't put myself at the center of the damn universe."

"You're cheating on Stefan, you really don't see that as a problem Y/N?!"

"Well, you and Caroline have been drooling over him ever since he got here. He'll probably find comfort in either of you pretty quickly. I doubt he's particularly grieving for me." you tried your best to lie to Elena, but the truth was, you were afraid of Stefan's reaction.

Lately, Salvatore has been flooding you with various date propositions, texts, and phone calls. At one point, Klaus threw your phone out the window because you couldn't focus on him. He got a huge, angry lecture from you, and from then on, he allowed you a short text to dismiss your boyfriend while you were with a hybrid. But you knew you couldn't hide the truth any longer. It hadn't been fair to him from the very beginning of this secret, forbidden affair with Klaus.

"You know what. I'm sick of you, Y/N. Get out of here."

"What?"

"Get out of here. Maybe Klaus will take you in. Honestly? I don't care. You don't deserve an ounce of attention. Not after what you've done."

You gave her an incredulous look. You shook your head in amusement, laughing as you passed a very serious and pissed off brunette.

You didn't want to make your sister (and yourself) any more angry. So without saying a word, you just took your car keys, wallet, and phone and left the house.

You dialed Klaus' number in the car. You patiently waited for him to pick up as you drove out of downtown Mystic Falls and headed towards his mansion. You were hoping he'd put you up for the night until you found a way out of this sick situation.

You knew that your cheating on Stefan with Klaus was a huge blow to the younger Salvatore, something he didn't deserve at all, but Elena overreacted by kicking you out of the house. It was just between you and Stefan (and maybe also Nik). Your sister had no right to make such a drama linking your falling in love with Klaus to wanting to throw her off balance. It wasn't your fault that most of the hot guys wanted to kill her.

"Hello, love. Is everything okay? You looked quite terrified when I left. Are you sure that you don't want me to come to you? I can always get in by a window..."

"No. Actually, I'm on my way to your house. Will you have any free beds for me?"

"We both know that my bed is the most comfortable and sufficient for the two of us, love."

You were about to say something funny to his taunt, but suddenly something jumped out in front of your car. You screamed, trying to swerve and avoid the thing, but you ran straight into a tree. After that, there was only darkness.

~•♤♤♤•~

The first thing you felt when he regained consciousness was blood slowly trickling down the side of your head. You groaned, pressing your hand to the bleeding wound.

Surprisingly, the first thing that popped into your mind after the accident was not to check your health. You were worried that Klaus panicked upon hearing you hit a tree over the phone, probably smashing your car. You could only think about Klaus... at least before you noticed you were still in the car.

"Finally you woke up. I was afraid you crashed into that tree so hard that you died before I planned it." your head shot towards the driver's seat, where your boyfriend's voice was coming from. You groaned as you made a sudden move.

"Stefan?" you asked in surprise as your eyes widened. Wait... dead? He wants my death? You looked around in panic, realizing that the vampire had tied you to the chair.

"Did you forget about me? I heard from Elena that you found yourself a new boyfriend. Klaus, really? I didn't expect you to stoop so low."

"Well, I couldn't go any lower after dating you anyway." you said, coughing up blood.

"I gave you some of my blood so our fun wouldn't end too soon. I also invited Klaus. He'll be sitting in the front row, watching you slowly die, suffocating underwater." the speedometer showed 180 km/h. And Stefan was just accelerating. Your heart beat faster in panic as you tried to find a way out of this situation. Preferable one that doesn't include your drowning.

He must have switched off his humanity the moment Elena gave him the fucking good news. That's why you were afraid to tell Stefan about it. You didn't want his "dark side" to go outside to play. And now you were paying a fair price for your many lies. You were just fucking hoping that Elena would feel a hell of a lot of guilt when you died.

"Stefan. Listen. I know I cheated on you and did the worst possible thing to you by hiding in corners with Klaus and still giving you hope. I should have broken up with you the moment things started happening between me and Klaus, but I didn't. And no apologies from me can make up for that, and you have every right to be mad at me, angry, crazy. But if you kill me now, you'll never forgive yourself. You know I'm not going to become a vampire; I'm going to die the moment this car goes down in the water. Are you ready to have one more innocent soul on your conscience, ripper?" you asked in a broken voice, fearing for your life. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

"That's the thing, Y/N. I don't care anymore."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw us drive onto that famous bridge, where he saved your and your sister's lives. How ironic that your life was to end in exactly the same place and by the same man who had saved it there earlier.

You closed your eyes, preparing yourself to fall, when suddenly Stefan stopped the car. You opened your eyes, sighing in relief.

Nik.

Klaus came to save you.

"This is probably the moment you should run away while you still have your head on your shoulders!"

Stefan pulled you out of the car by your hair, his hand on your back dangerously close to your heart. He stopped a few steps in front of Klaus, who looked surprisingly calm for him. At least for someone who doesn't know him. You could see fear and anxiety in his eyes, the way he gently clenched his jaw, and the stance he assumed.

"I think this time I'm the one with the advantage." you groaned in pain as he dug his hand into your side. You felt blood start to trickle from your new wound, staining your already bloody and torn shirt. The hybrid wanted to move, but suddenly ran into some invisible barrier. Bonnie must have cast a spell on him. Klaus growled a warning as Stefan's fangs were dangerously close to your neck. "One wrong move, and I'll do my ripper trick on your new toy, Klaus."

"Let her go. It's me you hate. You want revenge on me, not on her."

"You both deserve to be punished. Whatever I do with her, I'll get revenge on you in the process. You care so much about her, Klaus? A weak man who wants to live a gray, boring life? You'd get bored with her eventually. Actually, I'm giving you a beautiful gift. With her death, she will become a vampire. All you'll have to do to transform her is to pour blood down her throat. And believe me, Y/N, your lovely Klaus will rather make you end the transition than let you die."

You couldn't cry. You promised yourself that your fast heartbeat and trembling would be the only signs of fear that Stefan would notice.

"If you don't let her go now, I'll kill everyone and everything…" you didn't hear the rest as your neck was broken like a twig under Stefan's hands. And your body fell to the ground with Klaus' loud scream.

~•♤♤♤•~

Coming back to life after death should be a dramatic, suspenseful, and overall poignant moment. In your case, it was like waking up after a very long nap (probably after some big party, judging from your headache).

"Y/N!" Klaus' worried gasp reached your ears the moment you moved slightly.

You groaned as the light from the bedside lamp in his room illuminated you. Klaus' bedroom. He had to move you here after Stefan broke your neck. Salavtore broke your neck. You must be in a transition process.

"Nik?"

"I'm here, love. I'm not going anywhere. You're safe. My siblings are chasing the Salvatores and their gang all over town. I'll make sure none of them ever hurt you again." he murmured, kissing your forehead and pulling you closer to him. "I swear to you, you'll never have to be afraid of anyone again."

"Niklaus." somehow you managed to break free from the clingy hybrid's arms and sit on his bed. You clutched your head as the world around you began to spin. Klaus' warm hand cupped yours, anchoring you. After a while, everything stopped. It was just you, breathing heavily with a very worried 1000-year-old vampire by your side. "I can't stay with you. I... I can't be a vampire." you whispered as tears began to fill your eyes and all the stress from tonight began to turn into a terrifying panic.

"Love..." his pained look only intensified your despair and tears.

"No. Nik I-I can't live forever. I can't feed on the blood of innocent people... I... I don't want to die." you clung to him, crying into his chest like a little child.

You felt one of his hands wrap around your waist, placing you on his lap, and the other soothingly combing your hair.

"Shhh.. you don't have to be afraid, love. I'll be there for you, whatever you decide—even if these are your last hours. I'm not going to leave you alone. I don't want to convince you of anything, but if you decide that forever doesn't seem like such a bad idea, just know that I'll make sure you're not going through this on your own. I will help you control hunger, deal with overwhelming emotions. I can even steal blood from hospitals, hunt squirrels, or give you my own." you burst out laughing, imagining him running around the woods looking for squirrels. Klaus smiled at your laugh. He wiped the tears from your cheek with his thumb, looking at your tear-stained, snotty, and reddened face with great tenderness. "Being a vampire doesn't have to be so terrible. You have the whole world in front of you. And with me by your side? I'll make sure that you enjoy every second of your eternity. Only if you want it."

"What if I turn out to be a ripper like Stefan? Or my character will change completely, and you won't want me anymore? What if my darkness dominates and destroys my humanity?"

"I'll always love you, Y/N. Nothing can change that. If you end transition, I'll keep an eye on you. I won't let any of the things you're worried about happen. You have my word. You're everything that matters to me." you decided not to bring up the fact that he had just confessed his true feelings to you for now and instead buried your head between his neck and shoulder.

"Don't say that line. I only associate it with Elijah." you whispered with a smile, inhaling his scent, which brought you calm and safety.

"I could have predicted you'd focus solely on that sentence." he snorted indignantly, placing a kiss on your temple.

You sat there in silence for a while, hugging each other and soaking up each other's warmth. Klaus was drawing patterns on the exposed skin of your arm. Only now did you notice that he had changed you into his clothes. A strange feeling flooded your chest, warming your already flushed cheeks.

A persistent thought in the back of your mind snapped you out of this sweet moment between you two. You could have it forever. His arms around you. His lips on yours. His whispers in your ear. It could all be yours for eternity.

And maybe you didn't want to be a vampire. Maybe you wanted to live a normal life before, with your family, children, husband, boring job, and terrible boss. But now that Klaus has offered his eternal protection and affection?

You were too covetous to let him go. Too greedy for his affection and devotion to follow your beliefs. And so you have (willingly) gone against yourself since the beginning of this relationship. So what bad could happen this time? At least you'd be still alive.

"Okay." his intent gaze moved from your skin to your eyes, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "You've stuck with me. I'm gonna feed."

"Are you sure, Y/N?" he turned you around in his arms so that he could look at your face, searching for even an ounce of hesitation and uncertainty.

"Yes. After all, someone has to make sure you don't kill them all before they get what they're due. You are not famous for your patience."

"We will punish them. Together." he said, handing you the already prepared bag of blood from his nightstand. 0 Rh-. His favourite. You felt the hunger overwhelm you.

"Together." you agreed, taking the sack and groaning while sucking on all its contents. Klaus interrupted you from time to time, wanting you to slow down.

As you pulled away, Klaus took the empty bag from your hands, throwing it behind him. He gently stroked your cheek with his thumb, watching with fascination the changes slowly taking place in you. He couldn't wait to introduce you to his world.

"For always and forever." he murmured as he slid the daylight ring on your finger. You smiled as you saw the initials of your name and his surname carved into the lapis lazuli stone.

The son of a bitch must have been prepared for this a long time ago.

"For awlays and forever." you promised, sealing your fate by placing a fervent kiss on his lips.

From then on, you were a proud member of the Mikaelson family. And honestly? You haven't regretted your decision for even one second.

Certainly not when you both took your revenge. Or when Klaus proposed to you the right way. Or when you got married. Not for a brief moment of your eternity together.

[amiizuki]

it will be forever funny to me how the flashback portraits of Wittebrothers made Caleb seem like he's had packing peanuts for a brain

(this post ended up becoming quite lengthy, and so did the tags somehow, because I kinda devolved into a rant closer to the end of writing this whole thing, so bear with me here)

so we know that Philip and Caleb became orphans when both of them were still kids. after that, they ended up in Gravesfield and, to fit in with everyone else who lived there, picked up witch hunting and started thinking that witches are pure evil. Caleb knew perfectly well that he's the only family Philip's had left and that he even may be his his only friend, since, judging by the portraits, they've only ever hung out with each other and we don't know if those two ever made any other actual friends.

until one day, during a witch hunt he and Philip were both a part in (something Caleb seemed happy to do, judging by his smirk there), he met a witch – Evelyn – someone he's been taught to hate and want dead by the townsfolk. someone who, again, in his mind, should be evil.

but he just suddenly does a 180 and goes "damn, you can make fire with your hands, you're actually pretty cool"

and then a few days (?) of talking to her later, he's running off to live with her in the Demon Realm, while simultaneously not giving a single fuck about the brother he's abandoning.

(he even runs off with a smile, with a literal :D face, I fucking can't lmao)

Philip ends up seeing Caleb get dragged off through a weird portal and later follows along, thinking something like "no, my brother wouldn't just up and abandon me without saying anything. he probably got captured by that witch we saw together that one time! she probably used some demon magic to bewitch Caleb and took him through that portal to kill him or worse! I gotta go save him!". and, after spending god knows how long in that realm, searching endlessly for his missing older brother, he eventually finds him. but he also finds that Caleb is not only perfectly okay and not hurt in the slightest, he's also peacefully walking together with the same witch who "captured" him, even holding hands with her.

and when enraged Philip tries to attack Evelyn, to protect Caleb from the witch who took him from his home, from his brother, still thinking that Caleb's under her control, Caleb just... gives him a hug and goes on to introduce the witch as his new wife to him (I'm assuming that portrait is the same day as the other three, if not the same scene), also adding on top of that that they're having a child. all as if nothing happened. treating the whole thing like everything's perfectly okay and just another normal day, fully ignoring the fact that he threw his brother away with no care or thought, leaving him completely alone, a full orphan, now with zero actual family left (in TTT, during their backstory, it's said that "Caleb did his best to take care of his younger brother", meaning that either they never got adopted in Gravesfield, or whoever adopted them didn't give a shit about the two, so they still mostly had to fend for themselves), all to go smash some random 5 out of 10 witchussy he talked to, like, 3 times. no fucking wonder Philip killed him!

(btw, jokes aside, it didn't seem like he intended to kill Caleb, because in that portrait where he's ready to kill with a knife in his hand, he's facing forward, while Caleb is actually to his left. so it just looks to me like Philip was gonna try to kill Evelyn again, and Caleb either jumped in front of her to protect her and got accidentally stabbed or he attacked Philip back, to, again, protect Evelyn, and Philip ended up winning that fight. but that's just my theory)

my brother in literal christ and literal titan – why in the FUCK are you just hugging it out with a smile on your face??? you ran off while giving absolutely no warning to anyone, especially your younger brother! why do you think he's here and actively trying to attack you and your new wife? you're not even trying to address the fact that you left him! at least when Luz ran off to a different realm without warning, she had a "I'm still at the camp" cover, so Camila wouldn't worry that much about where her daughter is, and even then she still felt bad for leaving her mother and planned to go back home once summer was over. this chucklefuck, on the other hand, just permanently portaled away to the Boiling Isles, knocked up a witch and fully settled down there, walking around with a big ol' smile and no care in the world. "Philip who? never heard of him"

the only thing that would sorta make this situation seem better (as in, not make Caleb seem like an overly naive ignorant brick), in my opinion, is if they added one more portrait – after the one where he meets the witch, but before the one where he leaves. in that portrait, Caleb would look like he's trying his best to convince Philip that witches aren't actually evil, and perhaps even try to get him to go live with them in the Demon Realm, all the while Philip's looking at him with either disagreement/disappointment/disgust or just rolling his eyes and full on ignoring him, while sharpening his witch hunt tools or something. then it would look like Caleb at least tried to make his brother change his mind, like he tried to offer him a chance to go with them. but no. with the way the portraits look in the final version it just seems like Caleb was fully on-board with killing witches since he was young, even pulling his younger brother along to think the same way, Philip also thought that Caleb was perfectly fine with killing witches, but once he actually meets a real witch (assuming they've never met one before) he instantly pulls an uno reverse card and just runs off with her, without so much as telling his brother beforehand.

I'm not trying to say that "Belos should've been redeemed, because he's the victim here and Caleb is bad and it's all his fault". he still murdered his brother and went on to manipulate everyone on Boiling Isles for centuries, with his end goal being the death of all witches, while simultaneously being stuck in the loop of "denial" and "bargaining" stages of grief – repeatedly trying and failing to recreate a perfect copy of Caleb, but also killing each one that came out wrong or went against him. Belos not being redeemed in the end was the right choice (ignoring the "Belos was always le bad" from King's dad), I agree with that. frankly, if he actually got redeemed in the end, I'd probably be seething for the next 3 to 5 years, like how I did after the Diamonds' "redemptions" in SU (yes I'm still pissed about that lol). I'm just saying that, from what was shown to us, Caleb didn't seem like that good of a person either, not as bad as Belos ended up being, but still not that great. and, once again, seemingly had a raisin for a brain.

(off topic, but during Masha's retelling of Wittebane's backstory, their "sounds like big bro got a hot witch girlfriend and little bro got upset" line was so fucking cringe, it gave me a fever for 3 days the first time I watched the episode)

k, rant over, I dunno what else to add

TL;DR: I think Caleb was dumb as a brick, because, from what was shown to us in their backstory, he seemed to have run off to Demon Realm and abandon Philip without telling him anything beforehand. when Philip came to BI to look for his brother, who he assumed was under control of the witch who "took" him, since he thought his last living family member wouldn't just abandon him, and when he eventually found him, and it turned out he wasn't in any danger at all, Caleb just brushed the whole "I left you for witchussy" thing under the rug and pretended everything was and is perfectly fine, even though it clearly isn't. rip bozo

[preppyacademy]

The Contract of Submission: Eric Lin’s Path to the Preppy Academy

Eric Lin nervously looked around as he entered the Admission Service of the Preppy Academy, a slight apprehension in his eyes. He wasn’t alone in this austere room. Other students were waiting for their turn, each displaying expressions of resignation or anxiety. The room, with its cold walls and rigid portraits, exuded discipline and authority. What struck Eric the most was the stark contrast between these young men, all impeccably dressed, and himself, still awkward in the outfit he wore.

He nervously tugged at the collar of his checkered shirt, adjusting his sweater vest. His mother had insisted he wear this outfit, adding a red and black striped bow tie to make a good impression. For Eric, it wasn’t just uncomfortable—it was the complete opposite of what he usually wore: t-shirts and jeans. Today, however, his mother had taken charge, eager to show that he was ready to conform to the academy’s demands. He knew he would have to get used to this type of clothing, because after signing the contract, there would be no alternative. That thought weighed heavily on him.

At that moment, an additional pressure settled on his shoulders. His family had made it clear that if he refused to attend the Preppy Academy, he could forget about accessing the family’s wealth in the future. If he ever wanted to benefit from the inheritance and maintain his comfortable lifestyle, he had to submit to the academy’s rules. The decision wasn’t really his, and that made the situation even more oppressive.

At the back of the room, Monsieur Shelton, the monitor in charge of admissions, stood up from behind his desk. His attire, a strange but impeccable mix of a houndstooth jacket, checkered shirt, and a red and black striped bow tie, exuded a form of rigid extravagance, typical of the academy. His gaze was strict, calculating, as if he was already scrutinizing every thought in Eric’s head.

Monsieur Shelton, in a measured but authoritative voice:

Eric Lin, you are here to finalize your admission to the Preppy Academy. But before you sign this contract, understand what it implies.

Eric, uncomfortable in his outfit, timidly nodded. The family pressure echoed in his mind. He had to sign this contract, not just for himself, but to secure his future within his family. He had too much to lose if he refused. Behind him, the other young men were waiting for their turn, each knowing they would soon undergo the same ritual of relinquishing control.

Monsieur Shelton, holding the contract in front of him:

By signing here, you renounce your personal rights, your freedom, and your free will. Your life will be governed by the academy and its strict rules. Every decision will be made for you, and every aspect of your existence will be directed according to the values of discipline, submission, and adherence to dress codes.

Eric’s heart raced. He glanced at his reflection in a nearby window, his image in a checkered shirt and bow tie contrasting with the teenager in jeans he had been until today. After this signature, this kind of outfit would become his new normal, and there would be no escape. No more t-shirts, no more jeans. He would have to get used to this new lifestyle if he wanted to retain access to the family fortune.

Monsieur Shelton, noticing a slight hesitation, added in a more severe tone:

Once you sign, you will have no choice. Every day, you will have to conform to the academy’s expectations. Your family is counting on you, aren’t they? You know that what you do here will determine your future outside the academy as well. Is that clear?

Eric, with a slight hesitation:

Yes… Sir, it’s clear.

Shelton, seeing that Eric was still weighing the gravity of his decision, placed the contract in front of him, sliding it across the desk with a fluid motion.

Monsieur Shelton, calmly:

Then sign. Show them that you are ready.

Eric took the pen Shelton handed him. His hands trembled slightly as he brought the pen to the paper. He knew that his signature would change everything, that he would no longer have control over his life here, but he had no choice. With a quick gesture, he signed: Eric Lin.

The contract signed, Monsieur Shelton swiftly took the document, a slight smile forming on his rigid face.

Monsieur Shelton, in a satisfied tone:

It’s done. You now belong to the academy. From this moment on, you give up all control over your life. Follow the monitors—they will escort you to your first day.

Eric felt a chill run down his spine as two monitors, already in position, approached him. They flanked him, gesturing for him to move forward. As he walked toward the door, his heart sank. His mother had always pushed him toward the academy, constantly repeating that it was for his own good, but now he understood that it was much more than that. His place in the family depended on his behavior here. If he failed, he would lose more than just his freedom—he would also lose the inheritance, the security of his future.

He cast one last glance at the line of students waiting, all ready to sign the same contract, to relinquish the same rights. He felt like a voluntary prisoner, trapped by his family’s expectations, expectations that dictated his fate. As he crossed the doors, one thought crossed his mind: there was no turning back.

[padfootverse]

NEW ENTRY — REGULUS

Date: 3 September 1976, Midnight, Slytherin Common Room

There’s something about the nights at Hogwarts that’s always unsettled me. Maybe it’s the quiet. I love the quiet. Or that feeling that even when everything’s still, there’s something bigger moving all around me.

Tonight, the silence feels heavier than usual.

At least parchment and ink don’t look at me with expectations, don’t demand answers or try to shove me into some mould I never chose. It’s almost funny, considering I’ve been surrounded by masks and moulds for as long as I can remember.

This morning, at breakfast, James Potter said hello to me.

James. Bloody. Potter.

And it wasn’t just a normal “hello,” either. It was… casual, like we were mates or something. Like he wasn’t some loud-mouthed Gryffindor and I wasn’t the perfect little Slytherin everyone expects me to be.

“Regulus,” he said, flashing that easy grin of his as he walked past our table. “How was your summer?”

I froze. Completely froze. Not because I didn’t know what to say, but because I couldn’t figure out why he was even talking to me. In Slytherin, no one does anything without a reason. Every word, every look, every move—it all has a purpose. But James Potter? He doesn’t seem to play by those rules. And i don’t like that.

My brother was nearby. I knew it because I felt his stare before I saw it. Sirius, sitting over at the Gryffindor table, one eyebrow raised and wearing that half-smirk he uses when he’s trying to act like he doesn’t care. But I know him too well.

That smirk was fake.

I didn’t say anything back to Potter. Just nodded and went back to my breakfast, pretending I didn’t feel the weight of too many eyes on me. But all day, I couldn’t shake the feeling.

Why did he say hello? What does he want?

Later in the afternoon, I saw him again. He was outside by the lake with Sirius and his stupid lot, waving their wands about and laughing at something only they seemed to find funny. I was on the edge of the grounds with Barty, who was going on about some new project of his… i can’t remember. I wasn’t listening to be honest.

My eyes kept drifting back to them. They looked so… carefree. Like the world doesn’t expect them to be anything other than who they are.

“What are you looking at?” Barty asked, giving me that sharp, probing look of his.

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t the first lie of the day. Wouldn’t be the last, either.

By the evening, I’d holed myself up in a quiet corner of the common room with my potions book. Not to read it, really, but to have an excuse to sit on my own.

Evan was nearby, whispering to Mulciber about some plan that’s bound to end in chaos. Next to them, Bella was toying with her wand, sending little green sparks into the air. She’s the living, breathing portrait of everything our family wants me to be: pure, strong, loyal to the cause.

But I’m not like her.

I’m not like anyone here, if I’m honest. No matter how much time I’ve spent pretending I do.

Sometimes I wonder if Sirius feels the same. If that’s why he left, why he walked away from everything we were taught to believe in. Maybe he just wanted to be free. But freedom has its price, and Sirius is paying it every day.

And me? I’m not sure I want to.

I’m not sure I can.

I close the book and lean back in the chair, Potter pops into my head again, with that bloody smile of his and the way he said my name so easily. It’s maddening, how he lingers, how something so small can cause such a storm inside me.

I shut my eyes, but the knot in my throat doesn’t budge.

Regulus A. Black