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wardenparker · 5 months

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Vampire Waltz - ch 9

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Family drama (past), revelations, family estrangement, the truth will always come out. Summary: The revelation of your grandfather's identity is not the only secret that will unfurl itself into your life. Notes: This week has just been another shitshow of utter chaos, but it is LOVELY chaos, so I hope you enjoy the chapter my darlings! As always, sorry for any errors I miss. I’m just an exhausted little nerd doing my best 🧡

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8

"How are you here?" And, more over, how are you real? But one thing at a time. The fuzzy edges of the memory that washed up on the shores of your dreams are still nudging at your waking mind.

He sighs sadly, his eyes shuttering slightly as he reflects on what has brought him back to you. “It was only because of your abuela’s sacrifice, muñequita. It was the only way to lift the spell. She loved you more than anything else on this earth.”

"I don't understand." Whether it's the fog of waking up so suddenly or the confusion of memories and dreams and daydreams all slamming together in your mind, you can't quite tell.

“I am your grandfather.” He tells you with a charming grin. “Some call me ‘The Thief’, since it has been years since anyone but the people in this house have known my name. But you always called me ‘Yayo’.” He bows slightly as he tells you his real name.

“Holy shit.” Max hisses, his eyes wide as he stares at his sire. The pieces are clicking into place, but even he is shocked at how close you really are to the man who had created him, who had saved him when he had been destroyed. How was it possible? A vampire cannot have children, at least that’s what he’s been told.

"But...I made you up." That's the rational half of your brain. The part of you that knows dreams aren't real, that fantasies can't come true through manifestation alone, and that love is a feeling rather than a universal force. But the other half of you? The witch who was born of witches who once conjured fire with nothing more than a thought and bare hands? That part of you knows he's telling the truth. "Didn't I?"

Again, another sigh. A habit he had picked up from his late soulmate. The human-ifcation as she liked to call it. “No. When your mother took you away, banned us from seeing you, the only way I could visit was through your dreams. Apparently the spell she cast had also made you forget about myself and your grandmother.”

Max is tense beside you and you cover his hand with one of yours, squeezing it as if it might reassure him that everything is okay. You can feel that intrinsically even if the logic for how you know that escapes you. "I think..." Like a rapid-fire collage on the inside of your mind, flashing of visits with your grandparents burn to life as very real memories instead of gauzy wisps of dreams. "I—um—" Looking between the two men, realizing that you're in bed and in your pajamas, you look back to Yayo with wide eyes. "You're not a witch, are you?" You ask, needing confirmation more than you actually need to be told. The memories are there in your mind, but they aren't clear.

Chuckling quietly, he shakes his head. “No witch.” He promises, letting his razor-sharp fangs descend from his gums to show off his true nature. “A vampire who was soulmates with a witch, just as my protégé.” His eyes shift to Max. “Now you understand why you were brought back.”

The next puzzle piece clicks into place in your mind and you gasp, looking over to Max with wide eyes. "Are you— I mean— did he?—" You sputter inelegantly, running out of breath all at once as you try to stutter out a coherent question. " Your sire is my...grandfather?"

“I didn’t know.” Max shakes his head in awe, apparently nearly speechless considering he knows that this vampire is older than any other that he knows.

"There is much to say." Yayo's eyes move between you on the bed, coming back to you after a few seconds and holding your gaze. Not in an entrancing way, but with the soft eyes of a doting grandfather. "We can talk anywhere you like, muñequita. But when you were a little girl you were very grouchy before breakfast."

"I should at least get dressed, I guess." For the second morning in a row, you are starting out disoriented and with an unexpected visitor. But this time you're not afraid. Curious? Oh yes. But there is none of that deep, intrinsic fear that there was yesterday.

“Then I shall meet you in the dining room.” Yayo bows and turns to disappear through the door like a ghost, completely silent as he moves.

It's icy cold around you when he sweeps out of the room without a sound, and you turn to Max in wide-eyed confusion. "Um..." you huff, shaking your head. You want to ask how he had possibly gotten in the house, but that seems like a moot point by now. "Good morning?"

“It seems like there is a lot going on.” He snorts slightly, reaching out to you to stroke your arms lightly. “How are you feeling?”

"Weird." The sense of safety that you have with Max is absolute, and you nearly collapse into his side to beg silently for more of his comforting touch. "I dreamt about him again last night. And it was a dream. But it felt so real..."

“I don’t think it was a dream, Queenie.” Max murmurs softly. “I think your grandfather made you relive a memory. He was here, all night.”

"He was here?" When your head pops up again you want to harrumph about having two vampires sit around watching you sleep, but as soon as you think it you think again about how safe that is. And how no one else in the world would probably feel as safe around creatures who drink blood to survive as you do. "Max?" Your head tilts slightly and you find his eyes. "Have you ever known your sire to lie?"

“Never lie.” Max tells you. “Sometimes he doesn’t tell you everything. He’s…enigmatic, but not a liar.”

"I remember my parents fighting," you tell him quietly, pressing a kiss to the tip of Max's shoulder before you push back the blankets to crawl out of bed and find some clean clothes. You're doubly glad that you took a bath last night. It had helped you relax and be sleepy for bed, but now it takes away the need to wash this morning. "That's what I dreamt about. My parents fighting with my grandparents." Right before you disappear around the corner into your dressing room, you turn to look at him with sadness in your eyes. "About me."

“Families sometimes don’t agree.” Max can understand that you are hurt by that. Zipping over to you to wrap his arms around you. “But you can find out why now. And….” He bites his lip. “You have family still.”

"One person." Though you nod against his chest, knowing that he's right as you hug him back. "It was too much to let me know both of them, I guess."

“He said something about a sacrifice.” Max doesn’t want to cloud your opinion before you talk to his sire. “I know that it was Cookie’s choice to stop taking his blood. He did not agree, but he could not stop her.”

"Allison said Cookie...abuela was trying to break some kind of spell. They were working together trying to combine their magic to make it happen but they couldn't." Realizing that you were technically brought here under false pretenses is odd, but you can't find it in yourself to be upset about it. Apparently, this situation is far more complicated than you knew.

“Then we should hear the unfiltered story from his mouth.” Max encourages, giving you a small smile as he reels from the developments of the morning.

"I guess that is what breakfast will be for." Looking at your closet, you look back to Max with determination. "You said your sire was a big deal in the vampire world, right? I should...try to dress up? Dress respectfully?"

“Dress in whatever makes you feel good.” He arches a brow. “This is your grandfather, important vampire or not. Your imaginary friend isn’t so imaginary anymore.”

"What's your favourite color?" It seems like a silly question, but in the face of so much chaos you're looking for an anchor. Something solid to hold onto in the storm. And if that thing is as simple as wearing your soulmate's favorite color, then that's what you're going to do.

Max smirks slightly as he leans against the door frame. “Blood red.” He teases for a second before he shakes his head. “No— actually, yellow is my favorite color.”

"Okay." Yellow...you have a few yellow things somewhere...you can definitely find something, at least. For now you reach up to hug Max as tightly as you can and exhale an unsteady breath. "I'm just going to get dressed and then I'll meet you downstairs?

“Of course, sweetheart.” Max understands that you might need a few moments to yourself. He nods and then disappears out of the doorway to dress himself and go down to the dining room.

The photograph of you and your mother that stares back from your vanity mirror is a tantalizing route back to those memories that still escape you. You find yourself staring at it for longer than you should, tracing the curve of your mother's face and seeing the way that Yayo's curls somehow had ended up on her head. How had you never noticed? Or were those curls just something you found so comforting that it simply hadn't occurred to you not to give them to your imaginary friend? But he isn't imaginary at all. He's so very real. And he is your family.

Sighing, you dig into your dresser until you come out with an amber colored cable knit sweater and a pair of dark brown corduroy pants. The comfortable ones that Derek hated because he said they weren't putting your best foot forward. Fuck that. You've always loved these pants. If comfort is a way to take back power, you are absolutely here for it.

Max is dressed in a flash, downstairs and waiting for you. His eyes fixed on the stairs as he tries not to ask his sire any questions that you might wish to know the answer to while he waits.

As quickly as you can, you head downstairs, only to find both men standing at the bottom of the grand staircase instead of sitting in the dining room as you expected them. "Waiting for me?" You ask, knowing the answer but feeling unduly self-conscious about it all of a sudden.

"I would wait to eternity for you muñequita." He promises, soft affection glowing as he steps forward and offers you his arm. While he understands the modern customs and traditions, he still prefers his way of being. Set in his ways about some things, and the opportunity to touch you is still a delightful experience. "Your breakfast is nearly ready, and I believe the tea service is already on the table."

“Mrs. Taylor is wonderful.” And you’ll never downplay that, especially not now that you realize your housekeeper has been his housekeeper for a very long time. Taking his arm instead of Max’s feels strange only in that you aren’t used to Yayo being solid. In all the thoughts you have of him, he is a figment of your imagination and not much more. Realizing that there is more at stake here is a lot to process.

“She is.” He won’t deny that in the least. “She took care of your mother when she was a child as well.” Since she had been with them for so long, Mrs. Taylor had known the entire history of the family.

“Mom…grew up here?” It’s only a few steps into the dining room, and Yayo pulls out your chair for you before sitting down on your right. Max takes the seat on your left and you note quietly that there are only three places set. Allison and Eddie must have gone back to Allison’s house last night after their date.

Settling beside you, his eyes are focused on you. “This house was built in 1852.” He explains. “When I found out that your grandmother was pregnant with your mother. She gave birth to her in this house.”

“What?” The math doesn’t add up. Not at all. The woman you remember — the woman you have photos of — was maybe in her mid-30s at the oldest. “Mom was…over a hundred and fifty years old?”

“Yes.” He knows it’s nearly impossible to imagine, but it’s true. “Your mother was half vampire, half witch and like me, nearly did not age.”

“Will you…” you sigh softly, and pour yourself a cup of tea with shaky hands. “Will you start at the beginning, Yayo? Please?”

Again, there is a carafe of blood, and he pours himself and Max a cup before he pick up the elegant tea cup and smiles slightly, remembering how he had bought this set for his Cookie. “When I was a young man, I was a thief.” He tells you, wanting you to understand the background of your family line. “The best. I was never caught save for one time.” He flashes a grin. “When I stole from the Devil.”

The Devil. For the moment — and for as unbelievable as the rest of the story seems to already be — you suspend your disbelief and nod. “How long ago was this?” You ask, trying politely to get a handle on exactly how old Yayo is.

"201 B.C." He answers with a small smirk. "I am quite a bit older than most would guess." Even Max's eyes widen dramatically, unaware that his sire was such an ancient vampire. "As punishment for my sin, the Devil decided to make an example of me." He takes a sip of his blood and pauses dramatically. "I was the first of our kind. The undead. The first vampire to walk the earth."

When you glance at Max it’s very clear that your soulmate fully believes the story that is being told, and you would never take Max for easily misled. More over, he knows a hell of a lot more about vampires than you do. So you sip your tea in contemplative silence for a long moment before sitting back in your chair again. “And you met Ms. Brown—Cookie—that is…abuela…in the 18th century?” The timeline here is mind boggling, but you’re trying your best here. To understand it all. To believe it.

“Part of my punishment was that I would walk without my soulmate for over a thousand years.” He snorts elegantly. “Apparently a few hundred extra years is no matter to the Devil.”

“And abuela was born a witch?” The genetic differences between witches and humans had dwindled over time to become very subtle. The powers they manifested were less powerful, too, and you regret now that you never listened more deeply to your father when he tried to tell you about your ancestors. Your mother’s intense desire to live a human life had overruled that sort of talk as you got older.

“Yes.” The proud gleam to the ancient vampire’s eyes reappears and he caresses the edge of the teacup. “Cookie was formidable. A powerful witch. When we met, she had come to the colonies because her own coven had cast her out. Scared of the power she possessed.”

“She was remarkable.” Mrs. Taylor appears in the doorway from the pantry with a plate of fixed breakfast for you, as the only warm blooded person at the table, and a bowl each of fruit and raw nuts for the vampires to pick at with their blood. “Good morning, sir. I am glad to see you have decided to leave the tower.”

“So that’s where you’ve been camped out.” Max snorts, smirking at his sire. “Dramatic as always.”

“Is that why Renee looked like she’d seen a ghost when I asked her about the locked room?” You thank Mrs. Taylor softly, as always, and inhale the beautiful scent of the last pieces of quiche from yesterday — one of your favourite leftovers that you had begged her to save — alongside a fresh salad, a few slices of bacon, and a warm croissant. She has outdone herself, as always.

Your grandfather clicks his tongue at Max, slightly annoyed at making it sound dramatic, even though it is. "I had a room next to Cookie's spell room. It was so that I would not bother her, but I could rest easier closer to her." He frowns slightly, still getting used to talking about his beloved in the past tense.

“Max is going to help me turn the teahouse into a little spell cottage.” The urge to be excited and proud for something you’re sharing with your soulmate is overwhelming, simply because after yesterday morning — and so many years before — there was not much to be excited about. And certainly no family to share anything with.

He smiles, a flash of fang and white teeth. No longer hiding them now that he's not just in your subconscious. "That is wonderful, muñequita." He agrees. "Every witch would have her own space. Your mother preferred her room, no other would do, when she would work on her magic."

“Her room was the one with the silver wallpaper, wasn’t it?” Somehow there is no doubt of that in your mind. The powerful feeling of belonging and comfort you had gotten from it when you first walked through the house now makes perfect sense, and you’re glad that you didn’t choose it for yourself. From now on you can go and sit in your mother’s room when you miss her, and that almost brings happy tears to your eyes. Because gods above, you have missed her so much.

"It was." He smiles as he realizes you must have felt a connection to the room. A presence. Since his daughter had passed, he had hoped that the feeling of her spirit - her early spirit - would remain. It and you were all he had left of his beloved child. "The portait hanging above the bed is your mother, nieta. She was twenty when it was painted."

“Abuela kept it close.” It isn’t even a question. You understand completely that that is how it ended up in the bedroom that once belonged to your grandmother and is now yours. “Was it for when she came out? Or…did Mom ever have anyone? Before Dad, I mean?” It’s a delicate topic but an important one, and something pulling at the back of your mind pushes you to ask it now instead of waiting.

“Your mother had a soulmate that she was with.” The memory makes him frown, his brow furrowing slightly.

“She did?” That is startling news, considering she always told you that she didn’t have one. But apparently there are a great many things your mother didn’t tell you.

"It is probably my greatest regret." There is a dramatic sigh for show from the vampire and he sets his tea cup down. "I, like any parent, made mistakes, muñequita." He admits. "Like Cookie and I, we believed that your mother was destined to be mated with a vampire. By the time she had come - which was a miracle - there was a large coven of witches and vampires. Despite my best efforts, there had been tensions between the two groups." He bites his lip. "Our nature, our bloodlust, craves the blood of a witch more than anything else." He reveals. "It's nearly ambrosia to a vampire and because of that, there had been some hard feelings among the covens because of our...less than responsible vampires."

"You believed she was meant to be mated with a vampire even though there were objections to vampire and witches interacting?" It isn't a judgement call, you're just trying to understand. Apparently your little suburban family with typical holiday dinners (and atypical holidays) was far less typical than you thought. "And Mom...didn't want that?"

"Vampire and witches are stronger together." He tells you quietly. "Especially for us. My line. We were the only ones capable of having children. Of creating a lineage." He sighs again. "She was in love with him. Emanuel was a smart, talented young man. Her mother and I were proud when we discovered they had matching marks."

"So what happened, then? Did something happen to him?" It must have, otherwise your father would have been a very different man. And Yayo wouldn't look so terribly sad.

“I made the mistake of changing him.” He murmurs quietly. “I didn’t do it without his permission. He wanted to become a vampire.” It’s almost as if he was imploring you to believe him.

"But you didn't talk to Mom first?" Though it is only a guess, it is a solid one, and you put your fork down for a moment. "It was a long time ago, Yayo. A very long time ago. I'm not judging you. I just want to understand what happened to my family."

“No, I did not talk to your mother.” He had hoped it would be seen as a gesture on Emanuel’s part. His acceptance of the family he had joined. “Unfortunately, your mother’s blood called to him. He tried to drink from her and she—” he winces. “She destroyed her soulmate.”

“Gods.” If you had been holding anything you would have dropped it instantly. Your mother killed her soulmate over bloodlust. That makes you stammer for a moment before all you can do is reach for Max’s hand and try not to shudder at the idea. You know Max would never hurt you. He’s proved that. He’s your port in the storm. “I’m so sorry, Yayo.”

"She blamed me. As she should have." He watches as you reach for Max and it soothes him in a way that he would never be able to explain. Your soulmate is a vampire and yet you are still drawn to him, comforted by him. "I had not yet learned how to bring one of my protégé back, so he was lost to us."

“Thank you for learning.” Your hand tightens around Max’s subtly, fingers flexing and keeping his grip. “For…making sure Max was here for me when I needed him.”

"Of course, muñequita." He nods his head seriously. "You should have met him years before and I cannot fix the past, but I could make sure you would meet him."

“And you have no idea how much that means to me.” He has no idea of what you’ve been through. What has gone on in your life between childhood and now. But at least you can say to his face that you’re grateful.

“I spent many years trying to find the way to fix my mistakes.” He murmurs quietly. “I am afforded the luxury of time, so I decided to put it to good use.”

“They did raise me a witch.” It’s the most reassurance you can give him, since your parents did not give you even a hint of the reality of vampires in the world. They had taught you magic, yes, but you had never had a real talent for spell work. “I’m sorry to ask you all of these things all at once. I just…I guess I don’t understand why we haven’t been in contact since the accident?” Allison had told you something about helping Cookie break a powerful spell, and that that was why she chose to stop drinking Yayo’s blood. But you still don’t quite understand.

“Your mother, while she wished to be human,” he sighs again. “Was a powerful witch. Some of her own talents far surpassing even her mother’s.” He picks up a few of the nuts and rolls them around in his hand. “There is a spell, a protective barrier, that would keep anyone away until the blood price has been paid.” He stares at you solemnly. “Death.”

“She really didn’t want me involved in all of this…” Something which is both stunning and rather appalling to you, considering coming to Newport might truly have saved your life. Who knows what might have happened to you if you had had to live in your car in Tennessee. Knowing that your sweet, steadfast mother was angry enough with her parents to separate you for life is daunting.

“Your mother…” he doesn’t wish to speak ill of the dead, and especially of the daughter that he had loved for centuries and will continue to love until he is destroyed. “Was very much human in the fact that she was not infallible, none of us are.” He doesn’t wish for you to hold a grudge against her, even as he tries to explain things. “I pushed too hard and tried to see you again after that last memory I showed you. That was when she cast the spell.”

“A spell that kept you and abuela away…and made me think that I made you up?” That is a remarkably impressive spell, you will admit it freely. Your mother’s abilities must have been far greater than you could ever have dreamed.

“Yes.” He bites his lip. “It was one that took us a long time to even figure out what she had used and even longer to discover the key to breaking it.” He reaches out and touches your hand. “Your abuela left you a letter, in case these truths ever came to light.”

“I would like to read it. If it’s not too much trouble.” A few of Cookie’s own words might be wonderful, if you’re honest. Though you do already feel the fullness in your mind off memories beginning to resettle now that you realize they are memories and not only your imagination. “It…doesn’t have to do this moment. It will take some time to process all of this.”

“Whenever you feel like it.” He promises, smiling indulgently at you. “I will have them placed in your room for when you are ready.”

“I’m…” There isn’t technically any reason to feel this way, but you still squeeze his cold hand gently. “I’m sorry we were apart so long.”

“Muñequita, do not feel guilty.” He chides softly, aware of that expression on your face. “It is I who am the guilty one. You have suffered for so long because I could not find you. I could not reach you.”

“It isn’t your fault that I was in a bad situation. Or Max’s either.” Acutely aware that Max views himself as responsible for that entire situation because he had been expelled that night, you won’t hear of it for even a second. “It seems like this is a new beginning for all of us.” New, aside from the specter of your ex-boyfriend that now hangs over Newport.

“Though I hear you had a visitor yesterday.” Your grandfather’s youthfully middle aged face drops unhappily and his eyes darken fiercely.

“I—” Mistaking his displeasure for anger directed at you, your eyes stop to the table instantly. “He was not invited,” you defend immediately, not wanting anyone to get in trouble on your account.

He pauses when he realizes that you think he is upset at you. “Yes, this…Derek will be dealt with.” He promises you. “Although I do not understand why you will not let your soulmate kill him.”

“Because I don’t believe that murder is ever the answer. Regardless of the question.” Suffering, pain, death — none of it. You’ve lived several lifetimes of all that hurt and you would be happy to never have another second of it near you.

“Kind and empathetic.” He hums, not displeased with the idea at all. “I will promise you this—” he taps your hand gently. “If he harms you again, nothing on this earth or in hell will protect him from me.” It’s not a threat, it’s a promise. A pact to repay every hurt he has ever bestowed upon you tenfold.

“I will say if I am hurt or not.” That is the bargain you will make. To make your grandfather feel as though the door is open, though you need intend to go through it.

His eyes narrow for a moment in contemplation and he nods. “Agreeable.” He decides.

******

For the rest of your meal, he answers your questions, never shying away from the answers and it surprises Max. His sire has always been elusive at times, and yet, he is very succinct with you. Perhaps it is because of the want to keep you close.

After he leaves you, your grandfather goes back to the tower. The locked room beyond Cookie’s potion room now opened. The mahogany box retrieved from a shelf and his fingers brush over the inlaid gold. The letters are inside. Lovingly preserved for you. His soulmate had taken to writing you at least once a week since deciding that she would sacrifice herself to break what she viewed as a curse. Her thoughts, hopes, memories all immortalized in ink, her familiar script beautiful as he opens the box and lifts a letter to his nose, inhaling the scent of her perfume. “You would have loved her, Cookie.” He murmurs sadly. “She’s stronger than all of us.”

******

The cadence of his footsteps is unfamiliar, and nearly nonexistent, but you know it’s him coming into the library a few minutes after breakfast has ended without ever having to look up. Mrs. Taylor has left menus for you to approve and Max is outside at the teahouse with Mr. Taylor — and Renee is altogether too bright and sunshiny for such a quiet entrance. But when Yayo appears holding a beautifully and intricately carved box in his hands, the arrival is near-silent and solemn.

“I had considered leaving these in your rooms.” He admits quietly, his voice low and soothing like it always is. “But then, I did not know if you would want that.”

“Would you…” you push the tray of menus aside, knowing that Mrs. Taylor won’t object to getting them later today. Not when these letters are so important. “Want to sit with me? While I read some?”

“I would be delighted.” Silently and much faster than Max, he moves over to you with the box.

The letter box is lacquered mahogany, trimmed in gilded dragons done after the Chinese style in what you now know intimately as chinoiserie — a Gilded Age specialty. It’s yet one more thing in this house that someone else would sell for a fortune at auction and instead you cling to it desperately as a connection to your family’s past. The key that he has left resting on top fits neatly into the lock and you open the box with a small smile as you bite your lip in concentration. The box is very old, after all, and delicate. What’s inside, though? Dozens of letters. Some thick and some thin. All stamped with blood red wax and addressed to you. “There’s…so many of them…”

“My late soulmate was a woman who loved to write letters.” He admits, his smile wistful. “There is a trunk of letters she had written to your mother while we were…estranged.” He reveals. “At one point after learning of her death, she had thought to burn them all, but could not.”

“The accident wasn’t easy for anyone,” you admit, glad to see him pull up a chair beside the large library desk with you instead of pacing anxiously or giving you distance. There has been so much distance for so long — all you want now is to keep him close. “I almost withdrew my place in college and just stayed closed up in the house. But I knew they wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“No, they wouldn’t have.” As much as he regrets not being there for you, he admires your courage. You might not think so, but you have been extremely strong-willed through the last ten years.

“And these are…all for me?” It seems incredible to you, that anyone would have spent so much time and effort just thinking of you, but the reality of things has been so different than what you thought they were for your entire life that it bears a sort of…reinspection.

“Yes.” He smiles at the box. “She would sit at her writing desk and talk to me about you. Wondering what you were like, how you were doing.”

“What was your favorite thing to imagine?” There is no way they could have guessed the truth, and that is your comfort. That you hope they never feared for you.

“You used to love to dance.” Your grandfather hums. “We spent hours dancing in your living room when you were small. We used to imagine you dancing. Laughing as you were guided along the dance floor.”

“I stopped for a long time.” You admit, not ashamed of the fact although you’re ashamed of the reason. It’s just what happened. It was your life for many years. “But I’ve started again…because of Max.”

“That’s brilliant.” His eyes sparkle in delight and his lips quirk up in a pleased smile. “You were so happy to learn when you were just a baby.”

“I loved ballet.” The slipper blanket still in your room is proof enough of that, and you smile. “But I do love ballroom more. And Max did danced competitively in college. It’s…honestly so nice to be able to share that with him.”

“It was my rule for the school that all students must take an elective that was creative.” He tells you with a dramatic flip of his hand. “I think it appealed to him because I was teaching the class and your soulmate is a bit of a suck up.”

“So you teach, then?” Ignoring the comment about Max — because you used to be a little bit of a suck up in dance class, too — you leave the letter chest closed and focus on Yayo. “In Romania?”

“That is how I discovered your soulmate, Muñequita.” He hums. “When I saw the birthmark, a mark I would know anywhere, I knew. I knew I had to take him under my wing.”

“I’m so grateful that you did.” If not for Yayo, who knows who Max’s sire would have been? Who knows how you ever would have found him again?

“I made mistakes with him as well.” He can admit that, flashing a fangy smile. “I let him get too arrogant. But he has learned his lesson.”

“According to him, he was already arrogant,” you tell your grandfather. “But he says that his attitude has changed enormously since you brought him back.”

“It has.” He agrees with Max’s assessment of himself completely. “This house, his stay here has been good for him.”

“This house has been good for me, too.” Yesterday morning notwithstanding, of course.

“Of course it has.” To imagine anything else would be unbelievable. “Despite your mother’s ill feelings, I had this house built to be a refuge, a haven, if you will.”

“Mom didn’t like having her hand forced. I didn’t understand it then, but I do as I get older.” It makes you shrug, though, not wanting to start an argument with your grandfather. “But this house has certainly been a haven for me. So thank you.”

“If I could have done things differently, I would have.” He admits quietly. “I would have bitten my tongue and realized my daughter’s dreams for life weren’t mine for her.”

“Regretting and wishing can’t bring them back,” you murmur, voice finding the same tenor as his. “If it could, we would have had my parents back immediately.”

“You are right.” He reaches out and pats your hand. “You are as wise as you are beautiful.”

“I have had a lot of time to think it over. Not as much as you, of course, but…” A slight shrug of your shoulders comes as your hand runs over the box in front of you again. “There is so much I would say to my mother if I could see her again.”

His smile turned mysterious and he hums. “Think of what you would say to her, Muñequita. Never forget it.”

“I wish she could meet Max.” The thought had already occurred to you more than once, and as much as it hurts you also have to believe that she’s watching over you with your father beside her. “I think they would enjoy teasing each other.”

“She had a robust sense of humor.” He chuckles. “Perhaps one day you will know what she thinks.”

“It would be too wonderful for words, I think.” Dwelling on it for too long threatens to drown you in a wave of sadness, and your expression flickers — faltering slightly. “But I can dream.”

Sensing that you might want some space, he pats your hand again and stands. “I think I will go have Mrs. Taylor bring you up a pot of tea while you go through your abuela’s letters.” He decides.

“Thank you, Yayo.” Your hand catches his, squeezing his fingers tight for a moment before letting it go again. “For everything.”

“It is my pleasure and my duty.” He nods and bows slightly before disappearing from sight.

The box in front of you is full to bursting, and when you open the lid it is clear that some letters consist of a single page while some are self-contained novelas. They seem to be stacked in order of writing, but not with any semblance of order in the time between each letter. Selecting the first — a single sheet neatly folded, waxed, and dated — you carefully slip the seal and open the paper.

My Darling Girl— It has been a month and a week since we visited you last, making today your ninth birthday. I hope it is joyful, sweetheart, and that you know how very dearly your grandfather and I love you. When we see you again we will bring your gift and heaps of books, and your grandfather will dance with you until you are too exhausted even to laugh. And it will do my heart so much good to see you both reunited. You are the magic of our hearts, darling, and always will be. But in case this letter is only the first of many you will not see until you are a grown woman, know that we are thinking of you and missing you every day. And that we are so proud of you, no matter what path you choose each day. Happy birthday, darling girl. We love you. Granny Cookie

The heavy vellum paper is quite old, the scrawling, looping handwriting a work of art. Cookie had whimsically decided that your letters would be written with a quill, like she would have before. Making it a labor of love.

There are so many that it seems daunting, and something tells you not to read them in order but that might just be a response to how many there are. You’re still toying with the box, though, when Mrs. Taylor appears in the doorway with a tea tray.

“Your grandfather said you might enjoy some tea while you read.” She smiles as she walks inside. “I took the liberty of making Cookie’s favorite tea for you.”

“You’ve known the entire time.” Far from being angry or accusatory, there is awe in your voice. Her loyalty and steadfastness to your grandparents is astonishing.

“I have.” She doesn’t apologize, her smile softening slightly. “It has been hard not to mention your mother, since you look so like her.”

The tea tray she sets down on the desk beside you is sparse, but Mrs. Taylor never brings * only* tea. There is a plate of scones today, with jam and butter. “Did you ever meet me before?” You ask cautiously, unsure if you had ever even been to this house as a child or if the housekeeper had ever traveled with your grandparents. “When I was young?”

“We have met before.” She answers vaguely, a curious twist to her lips. “There was a time we spend quite a bit of time together.”

“I wish I could remember.” It must have been when you were just a baby, considering that first letter from your abuela was at your ninth birthday. “I wish I could remember this house. Or visiting here.”

“A side effect of the spell.” She murmurs quietly. “It’s as if this house never existed to you before now.”

“I knew my mother was powerful, but I guess I never really knew how much.” There were always signs of it growing up, and of course your father has considerable magic as well, but this is a level far beyond what you knew was possible. “But…I never knew she was half-vampire, either. I suppose there was quite a lot they kept from me.”

“Your mother…” she sighs softly, a sound just for you. It had been amazing learning how to do those things again when you don’t need to breathe. It conveys so much. “Always looked at the other side of the field and admired the grass there. Even though her side was perfectly lush.”

“She wanted to explore.” Even as young as you were when she died, you know that. “Explore new experiences and meet new people. The more and the more different, the better.”

“She had been that way for her entire life.” Mrs. Taylor hums, happy that she had never lost her spark. “She was the first of her social circle to wear pants when it was so terribly taboo.”

“I can see her doing that. Being a rabble rouser.” In fact, from alternative choices at bake sales to extra adventures on field trips, your mother was always ready for anything. For a long time, you had wanted to grow up to be just like her. Fearless.

“Despite that, she broke many hearts when her soulmate was found.” She tells you. “She had quite the number of gentleman callers before.”

“Dad always joked that he had to treat Mom like a princess because there would always be another guy who would if he didn’t.” Mostly those jokes had been to encourage you to look for someone who would treat you the same, but you hadn’t really understood that at the time. Now, you think it might be a big part of why your father might have approved of Max. “So I can see that.”

“That is true.” She agrees. “I did not get to know your father well, but he seemed like he was a good man. He loved your mother, that was obvious.”

“He did.” You nod, agreeing with that statement easily. “He loved her more than anything else in the world.”

“Then that is all that matters.” While she’s sure that her soulmate would have been amazing, she’s not lived for as long as she had without knowing that you don’t have to be a soulmate to love someone completely.

“They were wonderful together.” It warns a small, almost wistful sigh from you and you smile. “Completely wonderful.”

******

Max had not meant to leave you alone all day. After breakfast with his sire, he had gone off with Mr. Taylor to look at the Tea House. Looking had turned into doing and half the afternoon was gone before he realized. Strolling into the morning room, he grins when he finds you still reading letters, happy to see you enjoying yourself. Carefully handling the folded and wax sealed paper as if it were precious, because it is to you. “How many secrets did the old bird spill?”

“You’re never going to believe some of the stuff she wrote out for me.” Having moved from the library after tea to the window seat in the morning room, you’ve been basking in the near-sunset while you read uninterrupted. But now that Max is back inside? You shift to one side of the seat and sit up, making room for him to join you. “She wrote down as much as she could stand to, I think. Sometimes just little notes and sometimes pages upon pages.”

Max plops down next to you in a graceless flop that would have looks undignified by anyone else. He makes it look almost elegant in its casualness. “So it’s like a journal….in letters?” He asks curiously, peeking at the script of the one you are holding.

“Kind of.” You nod and shift closer to him, inhaling the scent of his cologne when he puts one arm around you. Since vampires don’t sweat, the only underlying scent is the intensely powerful sunscreen he wears everyday to keep from being affected by the sun. Enchanted, according to him. “Some of these are stories about my mom. Others are talking about powers she suspects I might have had, or would be able to develop. Others are just memories. Sometimes she even wrote down stories about her and Yayo.”

“Really?” His eyes widen and he playfully waggles his brows. “Don’t know if you should be reading those.” He teases.

“They’re not intimate stories.” You pinch Max with two fingers and laugh, feeling lighter this afternoon than you thought you would be able to. “They’re my grandparents.”

“Uhhhh, hate to tell you, babe…” Max grins even wider, happy you are laughing and smiling. “Grandparents fuck.” He snorts. “Otherwise there would be no parents to have the grandkids and make them grandparents.”

“Yes, they do.” The way you roll your eyes is just for show, playing along with his teasing. “But they don’t typically tell those stories to their twelve-year-old granddaughters.” The letter you happen open to be holding is on the thicker side, dated the summer you were twelve. “Usually.”

He snickers and shrugs. “It would be a lot cooler if they did.” He jokes. “Let the g-kids know how hip they were at one time.”

“I think I would have been horrified to hear that when I was twelve,” you tell him honestly. “I was a very innocent kid.”

“Very innocent, huh?” He leans in and kisses your cheek. “We’ll change that, Queenie.”

“I was an innocent kid.” The last word gets emphasis, and you tilt your head to kiss his lips as of that proves some sort of point. “I don’t think what we did the other night counts as innocent in the least.”

“Just a little harmless grinding.” His grin turns positively wicked. “It’ll be less innocent when my ‘no need to breathe’ face is planted in your pussy for hours on end until you can’t take another orgasm.”

It should be abundantly obvious from the shock on your face that you hadn’t yet put that puzzle together, and the heat in your cheeks radiates off you in waves. “Yep…” you manage to swallow finally and half-nod. “That will be…not innocent at all.”

The chuckle he gives is filthy, accompanied by a wink. “So I was thinking about another date tonight.”

"You were?" the suggestion lights you up immediately, although it is tinged with that unfortunate but real paranoia. "Did you have something in mind?"

“I know you love to dance, but I don’t want to be a one trick pony.” Max hums, leaning in against you. “So I thought we could be disgustingly cliché. There’s a pumpkin patch, with a corn maze and a ‘haunted hayride’.” He puts air quotes around the last portion. “They do all the cutesy shit and sell hot chocolate. I thought you would love it.”

“Are you going to protect me from all the jump scares and fake vampires?” It’s your own small brand of teasing, because even though you love horror movies as an adult there is something about jump scares in real life that is less fun and more anxiety-inducing. The one thing you do know, though, deep in your heart? Is that Max will protect you no matter what.

“Absolutely.” Max practically giggles. “Gotta show off so your little pussy throbs at what a strong, manly vamp I am.” He winks to show that he’s teasing, but he would protect you from anything.

“And you can smell it, so I can’t even pretend like it doesn’t affect me.” Which, admittedly, could be slightly embarrassing. But for some reason Max being so in tune with your emotions is a wicked turn on.

“You can pretend it doesn’t affect you at any time.” He hums. “Just because you’re turned on, doesn’t mean you are in the mood, sweetheart.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Although he does have a point, and you appreciate him acknowledging it out loud. “I was thinking more like…it’s harder to play innocent. Since I kind of have an inkling that you might enjoy that sort of thing.”

“Hmmmmm but I like when someone plays hard to get.” He admits with a grin. “Knowing they want me but making me chase is just as thrilling.”

“So this works for you perfectly then, I guess?” It’s one less thing to have on your mind, if he’s telling the truth. And Max has never given you any reason to think he would lie. “You probably love those great big doe eyes some girl have. The innocence and purity of it all.”

“I like your eyes.” He flirts shamelessly. “They are the prettiest I’ve ever gotten lost in.”

“I’m already yours, ya know.” Despite the protest, you absolutely melt in his arms and become a puddle against his chest. “You don’t have to flirt.”

“I want to flirt.” He promises. “Flirting is good for the body, mind and soul.” He announces. “It makes you feel good, makes you feel wanted and it makes you easier to kiss.” He teases, turning his head and kissing your nose.

“In that case?” You could not be more putty-like in his arms if he had been literally kneading your shoulders. “What time do you want to go out tonight? Because hay rides and pumpkins and chilly fall things with you sounds like a dream.”

“Six? Six-thirty?” He asks. “That way we still have plenty of daylight to pick out pumpkins? I know you will want one or two.”

“That’s perfect.” You would probably put a pumpkin or two in every room of the house if you could, but that sounds like a mess waiting to happen. “Do you want to sit with me for a little bit or do you have something you want to do before then?” It’s about a hour and a half away, and there are so many more letters from your grandmother to read. The box seems never ending. It might even be enchanted to hold extra, you can’t tell.

“I’m right here until we change,” he promises. “I’m thinking this will be our casual date. Leggings, boots, for you of course.”

“Maybe we can alternate?” It’s just a small idea, but knowing that he loves to dress up and make a splash and you aren’t typically as well dressed as he is lets you both have moments of fun and moments of relaxation. “Something fancy and something casual?”

“That sounds good to me, Queenie.” He flashes you a grin. “Can’t hurt and it’ll keep you from getting bored.”

“I have a feeling I’ll never be bored with you.” It’s just a feeling, but it’s right in the back of your mind and hovering over your heart, so it’s undeniable.

“It’s because I’m incredible.” He boasts, but it’s all just an act. His thigh is pressed against yours and he looks over at the letters. “Want to read me one? Or is it something you’d rather keep to yourself for now?”

“I think it’s safe to say that my family is your family…since my grandfather is literally your sire and all.” It does sort of call the structure of vampire families into question in your mind, but that is a detail you will ask Yayo about later on. “You can read the next one. That sounds nice.”

“You want me to read it to you?” He asks, brow raised at the thought. “I will.”

“I like your voice,” you admit sheepishly, sinking down in his arms a little in a rush of embarrassment. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Oh no, you aren’t getting out of it now.” He teases, reaching into the box and selecting a letter. “Hmmmm, how does this one look?”

“Perfect.” Every time he shows such amusement or happiness at little compliments from you, you feel that same skip in your heart that you’re starting to think might become a permanent fixture in your life. Max never ceases to surprise you with his affection and it really is wonderful.

“Puuuuurrrrrfect.” He rolls his ‘r’ playfully as he slides a neatly manicured nail under the wax seal and breaks it. Stopping and shuddering before he looks over at you. “Did you feel that?”

“It’s just a little chilly in here.” You explain it away instinctively, not even realizing that a breeze would have no effect on Max whatsoever.

“Sppppooooooky.” He’s playing it up, but there had been a current to the air when he broke the seal on this letter. Clearing his through is purely perfunctory as he opens the stiff paper. “My darling Muñequita,” he begins and says the date.

This is a later letter, something from you were a teenager. Max must have gone deep into the box. You hum happily at that and snuggle into his side like a cat.

“You really are the cleverest witch I have seen in my time. And considering how old I truly am, that is saying something.” He tilts his head and glances up at you before looking back at the letter. “To think that the answer was right in front of us, just a few words difference is simply magical, pardon the pun.”

“Are you sure this one is addressed to me and not my mom?” Though the question is rhetorical, there is also a nugget of truth to it. You haven’t done any sort of remarkable magic in years.

“It says it’s to you.” He huffs, flipping it back over so you can see the way it’s addressed. “Hush.” He blows you a raspberry. “Take the compliments. Now where was I?” He scans the page again. “For centuries, we had just believed that it was a myth, as fanciful as that sounds. Time travel. Who would have believed H.G.Wells was a witch?”

“I’m sorry.” Sitting up ramrod straight in an instant, your eyes go wide. “Did you just say time travel?”

“Are you always this disruptive?” Max teases as he waves the letter at you. “It’s right here. Do you want to read it for yourself?”

“But time travel is impossible!” Managing to snatch the letter from his hand, you settle back in his arms with a furrowed brow and your two front teeth firmly biting down on your lower lip as you reread what he had just read out loud. “Who would have believed H.G. Wells was a witch? Of course, everyone know that magic, alchemy, and science are all the same thing. But not everyone knows how to harness it to emotion. But you are such a clever thing, we ought to have suspected that you would find a way.”

“Sounds like someone did something.” Max intones, his voice playful, but he’s impressed.

“I can’t imagine what. By the time this was written, they hadn’t been allowed to see me in more than six years.” Still, the pull of this particular letter is far too strong, and you turn back to it with curiosity. “It took us an embarrassingly long time to understand it fully, Muñequita, but once we did you cannot imagine how foolish we felt for not seeing it years before.”

“Wow...incredibly intriguing.” Max snorts, impatient as always. “Like- what did you do? I wanna know.”

"I'm disruptive and you're impatient," you tease, but you keep reading. "To know that you managed to visit us from your time is remarkable beyond words. And how clever you were not to let us know, to never have even given us a whiff. You have your Yayo's talent for keeping secrets, darling girl, and we are so proud of the power you have finally come to. We will keep the portrait you so graciously left with us in the house and I will display it proudly for all of my days, telling anyone who asks that my granddaughter has a warm and loving heart and a doting, charming husband."

“Husband?” His own eyes widen slightly and his lips curve into a slow grin. “Something I should know, Queenie?”

“At the moment you know exactly as much as I do.” Your hand is practically shaking with the letter in it, but the slightly smug, pleased grin on his face makes you huff out a laugh. “I have no idea!”

“Wellllllll, now we have a mystery to talk about.” Max chuckles. He knows that you don’t know, but it’s intriguing.

“If I had to guess?” Being the kind of little kid — and sometimes adult — that had dreamt yourself into every possible and impossible kind of situation, you avoid his eyes slightly when you shrug. “If this is true, then you must have been there, too. I wouldn’t call anybody else that, and depending on when we went to, dating doesn’t exist. It’s married or unmarried, and an unmarried woman has a hell of a lot more restrictions on how she can act than a married one.”

“That would be interesting.” He snorts and shrugs. “I promise I won’t demand my husbandly rights if you’re correct.”

“Maybe we’ll actually be married by the time it happens, who knows?” It’s such a ludicrous ides that you can’t really take it seriously in the first place, and you shrug. “Besides, it’s time travel, honey. It’s not true. It can’t be.”

“And vampires don’t exist.” Max reminds you with a grin. “It’s so unbelievable that you would go back in time to visit with your granny when your soulmate doesn’t have a pulse and drinks blood?”

He has, frustratingly, a very good point. So much so that it makes you pause with your mouth already half-open to a pithy reply and shut it again with a furrowed brow. “I guess…” you swallow a deep breath. “If I wear every going to visit anyone…”

“She would be the one to visit.” Max finishes for you. “I wonder when you visit her. Obviously you haven’t yet.”

“After Mom was born.” You can answer that easily, even if your voice is quiet. “Any time when Mom was young. I always wondered what she was like as a young woman…and she never liked to tell stories. I get why, now. How could she rephrase a story about the 1870s to make it sound like modern life?” The idea of seeing your mother again is painful it’s so sweet, and you sniffle quietly, burying your face in your free hand. “I miss her so much.”

“I know you do.” Max hums thoughtfully after a moment. “You can’t have gone to the past when she would remember it, would you? Otherwise, she might have done things differently in life, right?”

“I guess…it would have to have been long enough ago that she wouldn’t have a strong memory of me. Or at least that she would never make the connection.” It feels like such a weird thing to contemplate, but Max is looking down at you so intently that you find yourself just spinning in the idea. Trying to follow the thought all the way through. “And I certainly wouldn’t use my real name. It would be Dolly. Or Queenie.”

“When we time travel, don’t use your real name, got it.” He gives you a thumbs up and snorts playfully. “Can I have a code name too?”

“Sure.” If you do roll your eyes at him it’s all in good fun and teasing. “What do you want your code name to be? James Bond?”

“Bond.” He imitates with an English accent. “James Bond.” He laughs and shakes his head.

He is laughing, which has you giggling, and you shake your head at him in pure amusement. “I genuinely can’t tell if that’s a yes or no,” you tease.

“I would need something way cooler.” He huffs and smirks at you. “Something that is subtly acknowledging my sexual magmatism.”

“Bruno?” Just about anything would be silly, and you can’t resist his smirk anyway. “Should we call you Jean-Claude van Damme?”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Romania, not Austria, babe.”

“What would you like to be called?” What he wants is more important than anything, after all. At least, it is to you.

“I was just teasing, sweetheart.” He promises. “Call me Max, I promise it’ll be alright with me.”

"We won't ever need to worry about it." You're certain of that, somehow. Even with the evidence sitting right there in your hand.

“With this discovery, do you still want to go out?” He asks quietly. If you’d rather read more letters, he wouldn’t blame you.

“I think I need some time to adjust to the idea,” you admit, putting the letter down without finishing it. It’s taking up so much space in your mind that you feel as if you might explode. “Maybe I’ll shower before we go out? I know we said tonight is going to be casual but I still want to look nice for you.”

“Go shower, sweetheart.” He encourages you. “Or better yet, go soak in that claw foot tub.”

“Yeah?” It’s a very soothing idea, and you have to agree that it might do you a world of good. All the same, though, you don’t want to be too far from Max. “Are you going to go back out to the tea house?”

“No.” He can sense your unease, and he quickly decides that he will stay nearby. “I’m going to go see if my jeans still fit.” He jokes with a grin. “Haven’t worn them in a long time. No need to, until now.”

“I know you’ll be very handsome in whatever you choose.” It is touching, though, that he is dressing down for you. Because you know that his suits are his suits of armor.

“I know the leather jacket is what you’ll focus on.” He jokes, winking at you.

If you could stop yourself from blurting it out you would have, but your immediate reaction is an unapologetic: “You have a leather jacket?”

His eyes light up when you give yourself away and he nods. “Yep.” He hums, leaning in to you, crowding you slightly. “Black leather.”

“That…” When you swallow it’s slightly embarrassed but interested all the same. “That sounds nice.”

“Does it?” He rubs his hand down your arm. “That’s good. Maybe we’ll see how you look in it tonight when you get cold.”

The thought of being marked as his in any way makes you burn in the most unexpectedly lustful way, and you clear your throat before standing up. “I going to go take a cold bath.”

“You do that, sweetheart.” Max reaches out and pats your hip. “I’ll be here when you get out.” He pauses. “Better yet, I’ll be at your door when you’re ready.”

______

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probablyhuntersmom · 1 year

Text

Therapist Analysis of Hunter's Mental Health in For the Future

Ok, getting down to business and writing this meta at last..(delayed thanks to physical health issues that manifested)..

Throughout most of the ep, leading up to the climactic scenes, we see a new kind of manner in which Hunter is responding to psychological pain, drastically different from what we got used to seeing:

I don't think we've seen him this irritable ever before. There is 99% no recoiling, retreating or shrinking back in his body language except here:

Instead, we see him marching forward, almost like how an animal makes itself look bigger to scare others off, with a singled-minded laser-like focus. But he is in deep anguish.

In addition, he maintains physical distance, unlike his usual self who would want to check on everyone and make a physical effort to feel like he is part of the group. His own mind is more than enough of a rollercoaster to handle in the wake of bereavement, which is why he's keeping the others at arm's length to not be overwhelmed:

(..sorry, I miss the chicken onesie and obviously want to upload 30 pics of him in this post too lol)

The fear of Belos himself, has become more like a fear of feeling the emotional pain caused by Belos, if that makes sense. Stopping Belos is all that matters to him now because his new greatest fear is the pain of bereavement related to losing Flapjack, and that it would be in vain.

It's a crazy massive shift in what he's most afraid of.

He has a strong sense of urgency but it's a world away from how he wanted his thoughts to be as far away from Belos as possible, back in Labyrinth Runners. Instead, Belos is now occupying pretty much every thought he has:

and jfc, I felt so sad seeing this shift: because it reminded me how trauma and its aftermath can take you further away from your real self, in more than one way or direction.

Instead of being numb (a necessity for his mind to protect itself and for him to survive, while he hid from the Emperor's Coven search party back then), it's more a rawness that's present in his emotions in this episode.

Different kinds of pain/fear require different means to be suppressed or numbed out.

He won't allow himself to go to that place of being directly in touch with that raw pain, or else he cannot accomplish the goal of stopping Belos. Anger is after all a secondary emotion, usually protecting emotions like sadness. Clients often choose to come to therapy once they sense they need guidance to go to this painful emotional place, if they can't do it on their own. It's having to remove the band-aid, see what's there (which can be scary and quite unpleasant) and clean out the wound with care.

Hunter needs to maintain this armored state of mind in order to not fall apart (he already did this to a lesser extent when he cried right after Flapjack faded away: that wasn't a long cry, and he didn't even sob), and to subconsciously minimize the chance of going through what's called emotional flooding. He gets close at times to being overwhelmed by flooding, but never gets totally reeled into it, unlike the scenes where he darted out of Eda's house (Hollow Mind) or became trapped and curled up in the first panic attack he had in Labyrinth Runners.

If you notice, him shielding himself psychologically in For the Future like this means he automatically resists moments of emotionally connecting with anyone, subconsciously seeing this as a threat. A very notable example of this can be seen in how he reacts to Clover and Emmi here:

Because emotional connection with any of his loved ones might make him unprepared for a face-off with Belos that could happen literally any second. These quick mental calculations could all be happening in his head subconsciously, while he is reacting and being on edge like this, with a lot of adrenaline putting him in this mode.

However, it's important to note that he isn't completely consumed by this grief response, and his heart was definitely not completely hardened, because other familiar sides of him can be observed e.g. looking out for others:

He makes an effort to be as patient as he can, giving Luz and the others quite a bit of space to lead, though he can't hide the rawness from appearing on his face. It's telling how he has never been an aggressive, pushy personality, and he only veered in that direction in S2A out of fear that he would not please Belos (there was the risk of him literally being cast out and abandoned by his former 'caregiver').

Below is the part of the ep where the tone shifts, after the others call attention to his emotional needs (having love expressed to him, being noticed, etc):

and it's the part of him that we already knew existed, the deepest part that wants someone to reach out and connect with him:

It's a core part that never vanished:

but was just buried down beneath his anguish.

I believe he no longer put up resistance using his emotional armor because he realized deep down that this need to receive love/care was just as important as getting justice for Flapjack, if not more. His support network was going to help him get justice and he had to lean into that and trust in that. He must've realized that both those needs for love and justice are not mutually exclusive.

Anyhow..after Willow, Gus and Luz reach out to him lovingly, while Amity and Camila are also giving him their quiet attention, we can already observe his expression softening. When Willow and Gus leave the room, he runs out of the room after them, calling out their names:

and this easily segways into his heart softening, and the walls beginning to come down in a healthy environment (the trusted good company of his friends):

These were such good signs that not only was he thawing out: he could also begin to hold (and express) multiple emotions at once, instead of letting only one of them (the raw hardened anger) hijack his mental state. He could hold the raw grief, feeling love for Willow and Gus, yet still maintaining the desire to go after Belos which is a mix of fear and anger. His emotions weren't so rigidly all-or-nothing as a result.

I'd like to also note that he likely felt safe enough to express his tears after Willow revealed how she felt about herself. It strongly aligned with his values to minister to her pain: and while he did that, some of his own anguish could be healthily expressed instead of stuffed down in the dark where it would be feared.

Interestingly I find that scene similar to one case I handled whereby my client took a long time to dare to speak about her own pain, which could only happen after we spent a few sessions discussing fictional characters that she resonated with. Other clients do this by preferring metaphors rather than directly referencing themselves, what happened to them, and their pain.

References outside of the client themselves, that have similar enough struggles to the client's own struggles, can provide the safety of detachment and distance for the client to explore their own issues. This detachment is a gap that a therapist should work on closing over time, at a pace that the client is comfy with, until the client feels safe to reference themselves and experience their own darkness without getting overwhelmed.

Basically, Hunter connecting with Willow's pain could've been what allowed him to feel the scary emotions that he'd been avoiding in all the scenes prior to Willow showing him the photo of him and Flapjack. Feeling any form of love would also mean feeling grief he was carrying.

Sometimes in trauma, our emotions and cognitions flip like a switch quickly in a black-and-white sort of fashion, which may be useful if things are life-or-death, but may cause issues once any real dangers have passed (though if S3 hadn't been shortened, I wonder how differently this part of his arc would've played out).

What's interesting is we never quite see any contending or an active struggle between 1. the part of him that wants (and rightfully needs) to receive love/care, and 2. the angry part of him that wants justice, that wants to track down Belos so badly after the loss of Flapjack. It's more like one eased into the other, and I believe both parts can coexist, and it's a balance that he should be able to strike while remaining stable in the next episode. Balance like that is an indication of improved mental health: being able to hold multiple emotions in your mind at once and remaining relatively calm, instead of one or maybe two difficult and unpleasant emotions hijacking everything.

It makes sense that the group gave him his space throughout most of the ep, instinctively sensing that they should be nearby in case he asked for support, but not being too close because he would be in more undesired and unnecessary pain. E.g. if Camila had asked him what he asked Willow ("Willow, hold on. How are you feeling?"), early on in the ep, he probably would've brushed it off by minimizing his pain with a "I'm fine", to politely decline anything she'd do to extend support and care. Maybe he wouldn't have been ready. Only once he saw Willow in a lot of her own anguish did he feel ready to truly connect.

It's a big contrast..how afraid he was back then about the others finding out he's a grimwalker:

versus his response when Gus brings it up at last.

Hunter is so tired by this point, too preoccupied with the major life change he's experiencing, that he doesn't even look fazed. It helped that Willow had just told him "you're one of us now".

Plus I strongly believe there was already underlying healing that made him capable to handling the grimwalker reveal and any ambush by Belos. One indication is this body language comparison here:

where the 2nd one shows that he still leans forward, instead of pulling back like in the first one.

By the end of For the Future, more emotional balance has been restored in him, and it began when Willow took the risk to show him the old flyer derby photo and use it as a conversation starter.

That's a wrap for today's episode of Holy Titan I Love This Kid So Much That I Might Die.

#toh hunter #the owl house #toh analysis #for the future #emperor belos #loz writes a meta #long post #for the future analysis

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sepublic · 1 year

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“I gave you the draining spell! I taught you magic stronger than anybody’s!”

All right so Ipad Kid is a funny reading of the Collector and also totally true, but! But! I don’t think that’s all there is to him. Because as we’ve all guessed, the Collector embodies a lot of ideas and parallels in this show, particularly the idea of an estranged kid who is seen as too dangerous or unpredictable, a lonely kid who just wants to have fun but gets carried away in disregarding others. Like early-S1 Luz, or King.

But a common thread amongst Luz and King and other ostracized characters is that they’re actually really smart and knowledgeable about certain subjects, and rather dedicated fans of them too; And it’s already canon that the Collector taught Belos some VERY arcane magic, of only which they were privy to; Why else would Philip seek them out, tolerate them, of all people?

Not only did the Collector know about a spell capable of harnessing the power of the eclipse to commit mass genocide, but he likely gave Belos knowledge on all of the other weird and inexplicable spells we’ve seen him perform; Particularly, things like Belos’ unusual red magic, which is able to manifest an entire worm demon from scratch, grant clarity to Eda’s mind during the curse, and even bypass the magical protections of Luz’s witch’s wool cloak. And a lot of the Collector’s knowledge could just be attributed to being VERY old, but consider;

The Collector is a BIG nerd. They hyperfixate. They can ramble all day long about magic. They know various secrets of the universe and think they’re super cool. As another parallel to Luz, they wanted to learn a LOT more, though in the Collector’s case, they may have hurt or disregarded in others in messing around with magic and experiments. They’re like a young Eda; A precocious little kid yet INCREDIBLY talented and a prodigy breaking ground in many ways.

Imagine them being so excited to infodump about magic to Philip, someone who’s finally asking to listen; Only to be a bit disappointed when Phil cuts him off at times, only focusing on what he strictly needs because he really does not like nor care for this kid. And the Collector is disappointed because why stop there? But all right, he’ll play by Philip’s ‘rules’ of the game and focus on the specific lessons that Belos finds relevant.

Imagine the Collector possibly befriending Luz and the others, and if even if they lose their power, they might still retain their knowledge; And thus use it to teach and herald a new age of magic, unrestricted by Belos and boosted by the Collector. Knowledge that could help people overcome the coven bindings, or at least work around them; Knowledge as reparations for the draining spell that could’ve left permanent damage to bile sacs. The Collector isn’t Head Empty, No Thoughts; They’re very much a neurodivergent kid with a LOT of shrewd passion on the workings of the universe.

They aren’t dumb, just isolated and naive, and even then they guessed at Belos and King using them for their own ends; They just consider otherwise because it’s the only option they can believe in. They ARE a kid after all, and underestimating the Collector like that is like underestimating Luz; And we see how someone like Belos suffers for that. And we might just see how our protagonists suffer, too... A lot of the Collector’s power may very well stem from just knowing things and how to use that knowledge, and not just raw inherent power. And there’s likely so much more even they don’t know, but are more than willing and eager to learn, alongside another if they cared about magic for magic’s sake!

#the owl house #the owl house collector

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i-needserotonin · 7 months

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Religious Imagery and Symbolism in Eli Ever:

Note : everything in this analysis was or could have been linked in a more generalized and not necessarily true theology, only as a way to try to associate or make connections with the mentioned character.

Baptism

His first death can be likened to a Baptism.

Baptism is a Christian sacrament of initiation and adoption, almost invariably with the use of water. It may be performed by sprinkling or pouring water on the head, or by immersing in water either partially or completely, traditionally three times, once for each person of the Trinity.

" The baptized person emerges from a watery grave into a new life."

Baptism is a symbol of Christ’s burial and resurrection. The entrance into the water during baptism identifies Christians with Christ’s death on the cross, His burial in the tomb and His resurrection from the dead.

The parallel between Eli's first death and baptism is evident. Just as a baptized person emerges from a "water tomb" into a new life, Eli undergoes a transformation after his first death.

"signifies that "you" have died to your old self and sin, emerging as a new creation."

This means that, in the same way, Eli's death represents a passage into a new phase, where he leaves behind his previous "self", emerging as a new creation, almost like a rebirth.

“Going under the water was a burial of your old life; coming up out of it was a resurrection, God raising from the dead as he did Christ." Colossians 2:12-14

Furthermore, there is an evident connection between sin, death, and God's gift of eternal life. As mentioned next.

"For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord." Romans 6:23

Three

The Christian doctrine of the Trinity is the central doctrine concerning the nature of God in most Christian churches, which defines one God existing in three coequal, coeternal, consubstantial divine persons: God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit.

The Christian Church has celebrated the resurrection of Jesus Christ on a Sunday—three days after remembering his death on Good Friday. This timeline of three days is based on numerous references in the New Testament. Jesus predicted it many times, the three-day timeline matters to the biblical narrative because it is the special day on which God creates new life and activates his covenant with humanity.

three times he shot victor.

three years since they met.

three times he died ( manifesting he coming back and dying again)

" He met his gaze in the mirror and began to unbutton his shirt, exposing the scars from the bullets of Eli’s gun one by one. He ran his fingers over them, touching the three spots where he’d been shot the way a man might cross himself." Part One; Chapter XXVI , Vicious.

In the Bible, we can find more examples of the use of the number three as sacred or a persistent and symbolic repeating pattern, but I only mentioned these few situations that I found relevant or that fit the narrative of 'Vicious'.

Cross

The Cross, is the principal symbol of the Christian religion, recalling the Crucifixion of Jesus Christ and the redeeming benefits of his Passion and death. The cross is thus a sign both of Christ himself and of the faith of Christians. In ceremonial usage, making a sign of the cross may be, according to the context, an act of profession of faith, a prayer, a dedication, or a benediction.

"to outline the form of a cross as a Christian religious act by moving the hand from the forehead to the breast and then from one shoulder to the other, seen as representing the trinity: Father, Son and Holy Spirit."

The use of blood as part of a ritual is laden with symbolism.

"Wouldn’t You?” He cut deeper, through to bone, over and over, until the floor was red. Until he’d given his life to God a hundred times, and a hundred times had it given back. Until the fear and the doubt had all been bled out of him. And then he set the knife aside with shaking hands. Eli dipped his fingertips in the slick of red, crossed himself, and got back to his feet. "Part Two; Chapter IV, Vicious.

In the context of this specific text, Eli blessing himself with his own blood appears to represent a desperate quest for answers and validation from God regarding his identity and the powers he possesses.

This action can be seen as an extreme act of devotion and sacrifice. It may represent the intensity of Eli's search for a divine answer or for God's forgiveness. Making the sign of the cross with his own blood suggests that he is willing to sacrifice or suffer in search of a deeper spiritual connection or proof of divine will.

Blood, Red & White

"And by the law almost all things are made clean with blood, and without blood there is no forgiveness." Hebrews 9:22

In the Old Testament, animal sacrifices were a means of seeking forgiveness and reconciliation with God. The shedding of blood in these rituals symbolized the payment for sins.

The New Testament sees the shedding of Jesus' blood on the cross as the ultimate act of redemption. Christians believe that through His blood, believers are forgiven of their sins and reconciled with God.

And also associated with purification and cleansing.

As we know, Eli associates his murders with a distorted view of divine justice. He believes he is eliminating those people he considers unnatural or threats to society, as a purification, justifying his murders as a way of protecting the world from “villains” with extraordinary powers, this vision can be easily associated, by the way he thinks and acts throughout most of the narrative as a clear link to the Christian view of sacrifice and blood itself.

Red, associated with sacrifices, sin, power, sinfulness. can be conected with redemption and atonement. It represents the idea that through Christ's sacrifice, believers can be cleansed of their sins and find redemption, also linked to martyrdom. Martyrs who died for their faith are often depicted wearing red, symbolizing their willingness to shed their blood for their beliefs.

White, purity, innocence, righteousness. Associated with the idea of resurrection and new life in Christ. It signifies the hope of eternal life after death, it can also represents the state of being free from sin.

And for red and white, which are colors normally associated with the character as they continue to be described with him in the narrative or mainly associated with the vision that people have of him, with white clothes, gun and glasses being one of the easiest ways to identify him, we can see that both colors connect with sacrifice, martyrdom, purification and eternal life, which are elements present in the character and his narrative.

Name.

In the Villains series, the name theme remains, whether in a satirical way, a reference to comic books or just a way of demonstrating what a character represents.

Eliot means “The Lord is my God", “Jehovah is my God.”

With the meaning of his name I would like to close this brief summary that I tried to make about the symbolism that I could notice predominantly in the narrative of his character, from his name to the meaning of eternal life and the usual theme, we can see that Eli is a character strongly linked to religiosity and can be easily associated with various concepts of Christianity.

Final Note: Thank you if you read this far and I hope you enjoyed it.

#Eli Ever #Eli Cardale #vicious ve schwab #villains series #eli ever #little analysis #finally did it #vengeful #vicious #v.e schwab

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zapreportsblog · 8 months

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hi! can you make a few headcanons or scenario or whatever you want with volturi kings and a human or vampre mate with i cassie ainsworth (from skins uk) like personality?

"...Cassie was a reasonably smart and often times spiritual and artistic with a deep caring nature for those around her, she could also identify many issues people had by merely listening to descriptions of them. She quirky, spacy, and fragile. Cassie can be found wandering around Bristol with a dreamy expression on her face and her head in the clouds. Don’t let her detached exterior fool you though. Cassie is extremely sensitive. The slightest snub could trigger a spell of depression..."

I honestly had no clue how to write this one

❝headcanon : you as the volturi mate with Cassie personality ❞

✭ pairing : volturi x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ twilight masterlist

In the intricate and regal world of the Volturi, there was an extraordinary presence that stood out among the ancient vampire coven - (Y/N). She embodied the personality traits of Cassie Ainsworth, creating a unique dynamic within the ruling trio of kings: Aro, Caius, and Marcus.

(Y/N) possessed a brilliant mind, her intelligence shining through in various ways. She was known for her philosophical musings and her deep, spiritual insights that often left those around her in awe. Her artistic inclinations manifested through her ability to create mesmerizing works of art that conveyed emotions beyond words.

But it was her boundless empathy and caring nature that truly set her apart. Much like Cassie, (Y/N) had an uncanny ability to identify the hidden issues and emotional struggles of others with nothing more than a description. She became the emotional anchor of the Volturi, offering understanding and support to the vampires who lived in a world of shadows and secrets.

Despite her intellect and talents, (Y/N) often seemed quirky and spacey to those who didn't know her well. She could frequently be found wandering the corridors of the Volturi castle, a dreamy expression on her face, her thoughts lost in the depths of her own introspection.

It was essential for those around her to remember that her detached exterior was misleading. (Y/N) was incredibly sensitive, and the smallest slight or criticism could trigger profound spells of depression. Her emotions ran deep, and she felt the weight of the world's pain on her shoulders.

Aro, Caius, and Marcus recognized the precious jewel that was (Y/N). Each of them was drawn to different aspects of her personality, finding in her a mate who provided them with unique emotional insights and balance. They protected her, not just for her blood but for the rare emotional depth she brought to their lives.

Together, they formed a complex and loving family within the Volturi's elegant fortress. (Y/N)'s presence added an unexpected layer of compassion and empathy to the ruling coven, reminding them of the intricate beauty of the human experience they had left behind. In a world of darkness, she was their beacon of emotional light, anchoring them to the profound emotions they had long suppressed.

❝a quirky arrival❞

Within the ancient stone walls of Volterra, where the powerful and enigmatic Volturi reigned supreme, there existed an extraordinary presence - (Y/N). Her personality was a blend of whimsy, fragility, and profound depth, much like Cassie Ainsworth from Skins UK. (Y/N) had captured the hearts of the three Volturi Kings - Aro, Caius, and Marcus - in a way that no one else ever had.

On this particular evening, a sense of anticipation hung in the air as the trio of kings awaited her arrival. (Y/N) was making her way to Volterra, guided by her unique intuition and sporadic sense of direction. Her head was often in the clouds, and she saw the world through a dreamy, whimsical lens.

As she wandered through the grand hallways of the Volturi castle, she observed the opulence and darkness of her new surroundings with a sense of detached wonder. Her presence seemed to light up the room, but it was her fragility and sensitivity that drew the kings to her.

Aro, the charismatic and intellectually voracious leader of the Volturi, watched her with fascination. He saw in her a reservoir of deep emotions, hidden beneath her whimsical exterior. Caius, with his rigid and stern demeanor, was inexplicably drawn to her fragile nature, sensing a unique connection that defied explanation. Marcus, the quiet and introspective king, found solace in (Y/N)'s dreamy presence, as if her thoughts mirrored his own silent contemplations.

(Y/N)'s arrival was a departure from the usual business-like atmosphere of the Volturi. Her quirky and spacey personality provided an unexpected counterbalance to their world of power and immortality. She had a deep caring nature for those around her, and her empathetic abilities were unparalleled. With nothing more than a description, she could identify the hidden struggles and emotional issues that plagued her fellow vampires.

However, there was a caveat to her sensitivity. Like Cassie, the slightest snub or harsh word could trigger a profound spell of depression, and (Y/N) carried the weight of her emotions with a fragility that both fascinated and concerned the kings.

As (Y/N) continued to meander through the castle, her presence sent ripples of intrigue through the Volturi ranks. She was unlike any other mate they had ever encountered, and her arrival promised to bring a new dimension to the lives of Aro, Caius, and Marcus.

The kings watched her with a mixture of curiosity and protectiveness, knowing that (Y/N) was a unique gem in their world of shadows and secrets. In her whimsical presence, they found a glimmer of the humanity they had left behind centuries ago, and they were determined to cherish and protect her as their mate.

As the days turned into weeks, (Y/N) settled into her new life within the Volturi castle. Her presence, like a gentle breath of fresh air, began to weave its own unique tapestry into the fabric of the ancient vampire coven.

Each day was a new adventure for her, as her mind wandered through the intricate hallways and chambers of the castle. Her curious spirit led her to discover hidden corners and long-forgotten artifacts, often eliciting amused smiles from the kings.

Aro, the charismatic and intellectually curious leader, found himself drawn to her spiritual musings and artistic inclinations. They spent hours in the castle's library, discussing philosophy and exploring the depths of human nature. (Y/N)'s insights were profound, and Aro cherished the opportunity to engage her intellect.

Caius, whose stern exterior concealed a deep well of emotions, was inexplicably captivated by (Y/N)'s fragility. He was fascinated by the contrast between her delicate sensitivity and the harsh world they inhabited. Despite his usually stoic demeanor, he couldn't help but feel a growing sense of protectiveness toward her.

Marcus, the introspective and emotionally reserved king, discovered a kindred spirit in (Y/N). He appreciated her dreamy presence, which mirrored his own silent contemplations. They often found solace in each other's company, their unspoken connection serving as a balm to their ancient souls.

But (Y/N)'s sensitivity was a double-edged sword. In a world where vampires prided themselves on their unfeeling nature, her profound empathy made her vulnerable. The slightest slight or criticism could send her spiraling into spells of melancholy, and the kings had to tread carefully to protect her fragile heart.

One evening, as the Volturi gathered in their grand hall for a formal meeting, (Y/N) sat beside Marcus, her mind drifting into its ethereal realm. Aro, ever the perceptive leader, sensed the fragility of her emotions and addressed the coven with care, ensuring that the atmosphere remained gentle and reassuring.

After the meeting, Marcus placed a comforting hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder, silently sharing an understanding that transcended words. She smiled at him, her eyes reflecting gratitude for his unwavering support.

In this ancient castle filled with shadows and secrets, (Y/N) was like a delicate, irreplaceable flower. Her presence added a touch of humanity to the Volturi, reminding the kings of the beauty and fragility of the human soul they had left behind centuries ago.

The bonds between (Y/N) and the three kings deepened with each passing day, as they navigated the intricate dance of emotions and power. In her, they found not only a mate but a source of profound emotional connection and balance. Their unconventional union continued to evolve, promising both challenges and moments of profound beauty in the dark world of the Volturi.

In the heart of the Volturi's grandeur and darkness, (Y/N)'s presence continued to resonate like a gentle melody. She had settled into her role as the mate to the three kings - Aro, Caius, and Marcus - each of whom cherished her in their own unique way.

Despite the centuries they had lived, (Y/N)'s quirky and sensitive nature breathed life into their existence, a constant reminder of the humanity they had long forsaken.

Aro, the ever-curious leader, reveled in (Y/N)'s spiritual and artistic inclinations. They often spent their evenings discussing philosophy and delving into the depths of human emotions. His thirst for knowledge found a willing companion in her, and their intellectual connection deepened by the day.

Caius, known for his stern exterior, found himself inexplicably drawn to her fragility. In her vulnerability, he saw a reflection of the emotional turmoil he often concealed. (Y/N)'s presence softened his edges, and he became increasingly protective of her.

Marcus, the introspective king, shared a silent kinship with (Y/N). They could sit in companionable silence, their thoughts drifting like autumn leaves on a calm river. His presence brought her comfort, and she found solace in his understanding gaze.

But (Y/N)'s sensitivity remained a delicate thread that bound them all together. The Volturi, who reveled in their unfeeling nature, had to tread carefully around her emotions. The slightest criticism or harsh word could send her spiraling into spells of depression, a fact that weighed on the kings' minds.

One evening, as they gathered in the castle's opulent dining room, (Y/N) sat beside Caius, her mind wandering through the maze of her thoughts. Aro, with his acute perception, noticed the fragile state of her emotions and guided the conversation with care, ensuring it remained gentle and reassuring.

After the meal, (Y/N) found herself in the quiet company of Marcus. They strolled through the castle's dimly lit corridors, their steps echoing in the ancient stone. Words were unnecessary; their presence spoke volumes, offering solace in the silence.

As they gazed at a centuries-old painting hanging on the castle's wall, (Y/N) broke the silence with a soft, whimsical observation. Her words were like a breath of fresh air, a reminder of the human world she had left behind.

Marcus turned to her, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that transcended centuries. In (Y/N)'s presence, he found echoes of the humanity he had lost so long ago, and he cherished those moments of connection.

In this world of shadows and secrets, (Y/N) was a fragile beacon of humanity. Her quirks and sensitivities were a constant reminder to the Volturi kings that they had not completely shed their past. They continued to navigate the intricate dance of emotions and power, their unconventional union promising both challenges and moments of profound beauty.

As they walked the castle's ancient halls, (Y/N) leaned her head on Marcus's shoulder, and he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. In that simple gesture, they found solace, knowing that their love, though unconventional, was as genuine as any in the world.

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jade7b · 3 months

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𝑆𝑢𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑢 𝐺𝑒𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑉𝑖𝑟𝑔𝑖𝑛 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟!

𝑌𝑜𝑢’𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ-𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟. 𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑦𝑜𝑢? 𝑊ℎ𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑛’𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑠𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑚?

18+/Virgin Reader/half-rape?/submissive reader/Geto Is an asshole/ Geto doesn't give a fuck about your virginity

Sorry for any errors! This story is translated from italian!

|𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍|

The feeling of being trapped was an experience you regularly confronted.

It was as if the walls were closing around you, depriving you of the vital air. Each breath became an act of resistance, and a tangle of emotions lurked in your chest. It was like swallowing a scrawl, unbearable and oppressive nestled between your lungs and your throat, not allowing you to live peacefully, continually crushed by a silent oppression.

After years of imprisonment in your prison, your old master had "bought" you through unclear methods.

You imagined that your savior would show compassion, wrapping you in a warm embrace and giving you reassuring caresses.

However, reality turned out to be a stark disappointment.

The hoped-for warmth turned into betrayal.

Liberation, awaited with hope, manifested itself as a "change of chains", an invisible but inexorable bond that still bound you.

The promises of affection, so sweetly coveted by your love-hungry soul, were dissolved in the glacial revelation of the true intentions of that calculating man. Instead of regaining your freedom, you found yourself anchored to a jailer again.

The binding pact became more and more oppressive, an invisible but powerful net that tightened your being to that horrolible man. The power you possessed, though extraordinary, turned out to be a double blade, a gift that had condemned you to a life of dependence and submission.

You were neither completely human nor completely cursed, a mixture of essences that defied conventional categories. Your identity was lost in a maze of uncertainties, and the label of "bastard blood", thrown by your master, sounded like a bitter echo on your head.

Ten years of this covenant turned into an eternity.

You didn't get old, while your master, the architect of your destiny, gave in to human frailty. Her wheelchair was an eloquent symbol of time passing, but to you, trapped in an endless stasis, it represented an eternal prison with no way out.

Ironically, you would have preferred to face the danger of battle, with its thrill and its uncertainty, rather than live this life without prospects, linked to a master who considered you a mere instrument, a "bastard blood" with no name or purpose.

One night, your awakening was abruptly interrupted by a sense of unease.

As you put your feet down from bed, the stifled screams of several people rang out in the air, making you shudder.

The opening of the sliding door of your room revealed a disturbing panorama: dancing flames devoured the wood of the beams, the crackle of the fire resounded in the corridors of the estate.

Your heart was beating fast as you rushed to the exit of the mansion, looking for a way out.

In the midst of the general chaos, the opportunity to escape like a little mouse between the cracks of the walls was inviting. Your beloved freedom materialized around the corner, and the decision to abandon your master to his fate, indifferent to his possible death, began to make you tremble with happiness.

The call of freedom was an irresistible song, an opportunity for redemption from the chains that had held you captive for so long.

As the flames devoured the past, you advanced into an uncertain future, aware that that moment would mark the beginning of a new, and perhaps more authentic, phase of your existence.

Your feet were tingling, your head was light, you didn’t believe it either, just one more little step and...

«Is this how you respect your master’s binding pact?» a voice had called your attention, making you turn in fear.

Among the flames you couldn’t tell where he came from, maybe he was one of the servants? Or one of his henchmen?

You put yourself in an attack position while the thick smoke came through your nostrils, burning your lungs.

«What a naughty girl, waiting for the right moment to unload her master, are you one of those opportunists? Who comes and goes like a cat?».

Your eyes had become darker, you had no intention of talking, you were focused in the tall figure that was making room among the burning rubble.

Her hair was long, and pitch-black. They were very thin threads, which in the night breeze and the mist created by the smoke, had you distracted for a moment.

Was he a... priest?

«Do not be fooled by these robes», his voice was calm, a smile cut his face, in contrast to the pupils without light.

«I warn you...», you had said trembling, maintaining the position of attack.

«oh~», he smiled, «you are free to face me, but I have the feeling that you will lose».

You took a deep breath.

«Don’t worry, I’m on your side», why didn’t you believe it?

«Aren’t you the Jolly of that stupid vile cheap sorcerer? You’re not a very offensive weapon, are you? Indeed, I would say that you are like... Mh... A kind of booster for us sorcerers, an extremely powerful booster».

You had backed up.

«Who are you?»

«Do you want to be free?» your eyes had collided with his, a light had formed in your pupils.

«Did I strike the point?» oh, he did.

«Allow me to assimilate you», he said as he reached out an hand towards you, «and I promise you that I will give to you a worthy life».

Your face had contracted, «Don't you dare! You speak of freedom? This is not freedom!».

The priest’s eyes had become so intense that you swore you could feel his gaze on your skin.

«I am not giving you a real choice. Do you know what will happen to your soul if you don't continue to draw from a cursed fulcrum?» Your heart had lost a few beats.

«Your master is dead, how long will it take before you fall down exhausted? Trudging to death?».

Your breath was fast, he was the one who killed him? Why?

«You are wrong, this is not true».

He had snapped his tongue, his eyebrows raised, «Does the truth hurt, babe?».

«B-babe? , h-how you dare? I have been in this world for much longer than you and anyone miserable human being», you had stammered indignantly.

The man had laughed, a laugh that had almost sweet, but with a bitter aftertaste.

«Mh~, I’m interested», his voice had been low in your ears, causing you a myriad of chills.

You didn’t answer, you were silent, too worried about what came out of his mouth, a statement that scared you.

«Go ahead, look for your freedom out there», his face had bent in a clever smile, he had then made a small note fly at your feet.

«you are free to come and visit me, when you will feel ready, or when you will not be able to resist anymore».

With a snap of his fingers he had vanished into a black and suffocating miasma.

Why weren’t you happy?

You could have been free after all this time, and yet there you were, stunned, standing at the entrance to the temple.

As the building collapsed on itself, the sound of the crackling fire was the only thing you could hear, as well as an unprecedented discomfort.

Your eyes rested on the little card. You had taken it between your fingers, turning it around and studying it.

Geto Suguru.

Was that the name of that strange priest?

Next to his name there was a phone number, the writing was in black and quite small.

Why would he have a business card?

Perplexed, yet emotionally challenged, you had walked the time steps backwards.

Why were you already tired? Why was your vision foggy?

You grinded your teeth, clenched your jaw.

He couldn’t really be right.

The days passed slowly.

You managed to get a hot meal that night, one after a long time. Your coveted freedom had become a nightmare.

You found out, at your expense, that living free in the real world was harder than you thought, and then, we wanted to talk about your mental and physical health?

There were times that you were burning from the inside, attracted by the cursed energy as if you were a moth attracted to the light.

At night you wriggled in pain, clutching that strange guy’s business card.

So, he was a sorcerer? Why did you start caring about it?

Why did you want to see him again? Why did you run desperately to the first pay phone when you found a coin on the ground?

«Temple of the Star Union, how can I help you?»

«Good evening, I umh...», your heart hurt, «Suguru Geto? Umh, he told me to call this number in case I... Emh..»

«Wait in line, we will redirect the call immediately».

You waited for a few seconds while you squeezed the phone until your knuckles turned white.

«Yes?» his voice, modified by the phone, had destabilized you for a moment.

«I am not here to waste time, explain your request quickly», he seemed bored, while he treated you with a tone of sufficence.

«Umh, you told me to call you, then I-».

«Babe! Is it you?!» his tone of voice had changed, he suddenly seemed so interested.

Leaving aside the nickname he gived you, you said a dry and insecure «Yes».

«Oh~, I’m glad to hear you. Have you changed your mind?» His voice made a strange effect on you, something you’d never felt before, was it... desire?

«Are you sick? Poor baby»

Your salivation was decreasing, your mouth was kneaded, and all you did was swallow.

Of course you were sick, and you would have done anything to stop that pain.

«I beg you, make it stop», you had prayed him weeping, «it hurts so much».

Your eyes were filled with tears, you were so ashamed: you had denied his help and now you crawled from him like a worm.

In the end, Suguru predicted what would be inevitable, and now here you are begging for help.

Pathetic, that’s how you feel about yourself in front of Geto’s mocking voice.

You reported your location, shortly after, a fancy car showed up to pick you up.

When you saw the sorcerer, waiting for you to open the door of the car, you wanted to rush in the wake of his cursed energy.

While the driver’s scent was nonexistent, the sorcerers' was so intense that you completely lost your mind.

You approached cautiously, but when you were only a few inches away, the game was over.

Suddenly you had laid your head on his chest, eagerly inhaling his aura and energy. Oh, what a wonderful feeling, how well you feel, with his body close.

Your soul was regenerating, but it seemed like it wasn’t enough.

You clung to him, almost wishing you could get under his skin.

«It seems that you are exhausted, poor thing».

Your eyes were humidified, «for your luck I have a lot of more cursed energy than that old man».

Your chest tightened, you felt defeated and emotionally down, and yet, in those strong arms, you felt better.

He was right, he was always right, and you, stupid, were just too proud to admit it.

He had you sitting next to him in the back.

«Rest, recover», your cheek kept resting on his shoulder, you liked it, you had never felt such strength.

As you looked at an indefinite point, you were absorbed in your thoughts, at the mercy of your emotions.

Oh, if only you’d discovered that feeling before...

While Geto was giving you his energy, you, as if you were a leech, were clinging to his essence, like the pathetic and shameless little girl you were.

Exhausted, your vision quickly darkened.

You’ve been standing in front of Geto’s quarters for over five minutes.

You put your fingers on the Washi paper door, wondering if this burden would ever end.

Within a week you had been able to understand that you could not stay away from Suguru for more than two hours.

In the absence of a binding covenant to join you to the beating heart of a master’s energy, you were unable to process that force properly.

Result? You found yourself dangling in pain along the corridors of the temple, searching for some object that the master of the temple touched.

You had sensed his pillows in the lobby where he received the "patients", but each time you were so greedy that you quickly consumed every bit of the essence that made them so unbearable.

You had touched the handles that he had touched with his palm, you had walked the way he had done during the day. You were intoxicated with his essence in his office, going so far as to "taste" the pen he held most of the time.

Oh, you felt so needy.

You licked the tip of the pen with your tongue, and you felt relief.

When you completely immersed it in your mouth, you were quick to drain every drop of what Suguru was releasing into the environment.

You tilted your head back, thinking about how satisfying it would be to have his fingers in your mouth, while you licked them sourly.

What you developed was a real obsession, and the longer this story went on, the more frightened you were about tour feelings.

That evening his essence scattered throughout the temple was no longer enough for you.

You’d been standing there for ten minutes, hoping Suguru would notice you, praying he’d let you in.

«What are you waiting for? You are stopped in front of my door for more than ten minutes now», and with calibrated and indecisive step you had crossed the line that marked a point of no return.

His room was bigger than the one he gave you, definitely full of everything about him.

Your head was dizzy, could you be that desperate?

He sat in his desk, dressed only in a wide shirt and sweatpants, you’d never seen him like this. For a moment, he had completely taken you by surprise.

He was dragging the same pen you desecrated a few days ago into various documents.

He signed something, maybe they were important documents.

You didn’t care what they were, you were more attracted to his elegant movements.

When his gaze turned towards you, you almost jumped on the spot.

«I imagine there is something you have to ask me», his voice cooed between the walls of the room.

You looked down, your eyes on your socks.

Carrying your arms behind your back, you started hanging around like a guilty child.

«Not really», you answered, avoiding eye contact.

You heard the chair crawling on tatami mats, and a few steps closer.

Hid intoxicating scent collided with your nostrils.

God, suddenly you’d rather run to your room.

When Suguru’s pen had leaned under your chin, forcing you to lift your face up, you almost didn’t lose your balance.

His eyes studied you, as he thoughtfully began to drum the pen right under your chin.

«I assume that you are addicted...the small gifts that I have left you around the temple do not have any more effect?».

It was like someone just shot you in the head.

Your eyes were enlarged as you digested what he had told you.

Silent, you watched in disbelief his sharp face from below.

«Oh~ you really are naive», he lowered himself onto you, scrutinizing you from closer while a smile ran through his lips.

«Do not tell me that you did not notice it», his sharp eyes peered inside you.

«Did you sleep well among the pillows of the ceremonial hall? Did you adore...», he slipped the pen in your neck, «... take it in your mouth?».

Your cheeks were warm.

Realization had led you to take a few steps away.

Suguru crossed his arms across his chest, enclosing the object in his palm.

«I like playing with you, it’s wonderful to tease you».

Your eyes got a little shinier.

«You... You are-»

«What? What am I?» he had taken a few steps towards you, until, backing away, you had not found yourself colliding with the doors of the closet.

«petty...», you had whispered intimidated.

He smiled, holding the pen to your face, again.

He had dragged it into your cheek, and then into your lips, clenched them tightly.

«Don’t be so childlish, it’s your only way to survive this, right?».

He was playing with you, you hated it.

The pen began to go up and down in your mouth, leaving you completely at the mercy of his gestures.

He took your cheeks with one hand, forcing you to keep sucking.

«Little bitch... Do you like it, do you like to suck what is mine?» Scornful, he had pulled out his pen as he insinuated two of his big fingers into your mouth.

You moaned in surprise.

«much better mh? Suck them, be a good girl for me and then you will have a reward». Red on your face, you had begun to desire more. Your body did not respond, and you reluctantly indulged in provocation.

Your tongue passed over his long, slightly rough fingers, making you forget what modesty could be.

Your hands were running down his wrist, you had clung to the needy, as you continued to lick and suck those fingers.

«What a good girl», he complimented looking at you in your liquid eyes «you are a good girl, yes... Just a good girl».

Suddenly you woke up from the trance.

You had pulled his hand away from your face, running from him passing under his arm, which held you between him and the closet.

«I umh...», the saliva still poured from your lips, «I must go».

Just as you were about to turn around, two mighty hands clutched your forearms and dragged you to the bed.

He made you dive into the soft blankets, and you couldn’t fight back.

«There is a way to make you feel better, you know?»

Your body was quivering.

«...»

«Did the cat eat your tongue?» he laughed, turning to him with an exorbitant speed.

«Why don’t you close your eyes? I promise you that you will feel good».

Should you have trusted him? You didn’t know what he was going to do, what if he hurt you?

Yet you closed your eyes in a submissive way.

Your body didn’t answer, he could have done anything to you.

You could feel his hands running down your hips, all the way to the rubber band on your shorts.

His thumbs had latched onto the fabric, and slowly, as if it were torture, he had taken what separated you from his ravenous gaze.

Your underwear had been taken off with your shorts, yet your body had not reacted to the threat, why?

Once again you had felt the tip of the pen running down your face, running down your neck and stopping in the middle of your collarbones.

She put a little pressure on you, starting to cause you a little discomfort.

You complained slightly, though, holding your position.

Before that, you’d never had a relationship. Your half-cursed nature didn’t allow you to have a normal life, so you missed out on everything a girl would have to experience sooner or later.

Intoxicated by his essence, the view was blurred. The pen ran along your breasts, and while the tip hit you in the turgid nipples, you gasped, under the smug gaze of Suguru.

All of a sudden, his fingers screwed on a nipple so hard, you were afraid he was gonna rip it off.

You squealed as you tried to fight back, but what you were able to emit was just a smothered squeak.

The pen went down and down, the chills became more and more intense, more and more unbearable.

When he had crawled it over your wet folds, focusing on your clitoris, your senses were completely subjugated to his cursed energy.

«yes... Do you feel it flowing? » he asked you, as he watched your convulsions becoming more and more frequent.

He had begun to make little imaginary circles on your clitoris, sometimes he would bang the back of your pen in your sweet feminine bud, and you would squeal needy, wetter and wetter.

When his fingers had reached your mouth, you had welcomed them without protesting, however, with such shame that you would have preferred to hide under the ground.

You complained, he tortured you, and as much as you hated admitting it, you liked it.

Oh if you liked it, you loved it.

You loved feeling his energy on you, on your skin, basking in his essence was so... So...

«Exciting mh? And we are not even at the beginning», he whispered, carrying his fingers up to the uvula. It was seeping down your throat, and you took it hard, like it was your duty, like you were feasting.

When the pen was positioned in your entrance, you had a slight gasp, when he had inserted it, you had arched your back, moaning.

It took less than a few inches for you to understand how you felt with his energy inside of you, and now, fuck, you always wanted more.

He was pumping his pen, not going too deep, like he felt it, like he knew you were a virgin.

Given the overwhelming sensations you had floundered weeping, when he tortured your clitoris with wet fingers of your saliva.

«Please, nngh... Please», you faded by moving your hips towards his hands.

When the pen was removed from your dripping entrance, all you did was protest, looking at him with an offended look.

Suguru smiled, his hand grabbed both of your wrists, pulling you straight to his pelvis.

Your naked pussy had collided with something hot and hard, and when you had seen that his big and venous cock was leaning over your folds, you almost hadn’t screamed at the surprise.

He rubbed it over you, dividing the folds and colliding the red tip with your clitoris. The precum mixed with your excitement, and the more he rubbed it, the tighter his grip was in your wrists.

To your surprise suguru had started to tease the entrance with the tip, inserting only the glans for a few seconds, then it had gone out, continuing to divide the pulsating and dripping pussy in half, and then coming back for a few more seconds with the tip inside you.

It’s the only way he stretched you out and stretched you out to hurt you. You screamed every time, when his dick penetrated you for a quarter, let alone how you would have been, when you would have taken it all.

«You’re a virgin, aren’t you?» his eyes settled in yours.

A sadistic look made you waver for a moment, you had a feeling he wouldn’t be kind to you.

Immobilized by fear, you didn’t have the courage to say anything.

When he opened the folds with two fingers, you almost died of shame.

He opened you up good, your clitoris was well exposed, red for being tortured, but what he was paying attention to was your entrance.

It was small, and when he had put his thumbs to the sides to widen it and examine your innocence, Suguru laughed slightly, noting your hymen intact.

«Wonderful, really wonderful, you are really still innocent... Can I taste it, babe?» While your head was in dissent, he had no problem locking you in the mattress, carrying his mouth over your naked pussy.

He stretched it out, kissed your clit and then passed his rigid tongue over your juicy opening. He had sunk his tongue in it, and when he had, God, the synapses had completely fried.

There was nothing but his tongue inside of you, his hands locking you in bed, his teeth, sometimes hitting your sensitive clitoris on purpose.

You were nothing but a fucking whore when it came to him, you were nothing but a needy little bitch, that’s all you were.

He didn’t waste time preparing you with his fingers, Suguru wanted to sink his dick in you, and now.

He didn’t want to spread you with anything but his dick.

«N-no, nngh, is too big, you will hurt me-», with a slowness that had bothered you, he had inserted it, while he held your legs with his arms.

Your calves were resting on his shoulders, while he, on his knees, had passed the glans beyond your entrance, until he reached the hymen, tearing it completely.

When it happened, all you did was screaming in pain, your eyes filled with tears, and like a child you couldn’t help yourself. You burst into a desperate cry, but he didn’t seem to think too much about it.

The only thing he’d done was signal you to be quiet.

As he struck you, he passed his thumb through your opened lips, observing how your desperate expression suited you.

It turned him on. Seeing you like that, it had made him crazy.

For Suguru it was a surprise to find you a virgin, and one thing he loved to the madness was fucking with a tight and innocent pussy like yours.

«You are taking it so well, good girl, yes, yes, yes...», his thrusts then became stronger and decided. Each lunge was as if you could die. If on the one hand you had pain, on the other you began to feel the benefits. Your insatiable craving for cursed energy was stabilizing, which meant Suguru hadn’t told you a lie.

When he noticed that screwing you in missionary mode had become quite monotonous, he had raised you on his huge throbbing cock, picking you up and leaning sharply against the cold wall of the room. He held you in balance, his hands in your ass, and his ruthless excitement hitting you to the cervix. You were screaming in tears and pain, so much so that Suguru decided to cover your mouth with a kiss.

«Don't cry», he grunted excited, «you will be fine, sweety», his lips still sank into yours, and you, afraid of the painful sensations, had abandoned yourself on them and to their burning heat.

Tears were writhing around your eyelashes, sweat made you stick your hair and his to your face.

As you saw that you were ever closer to liberation, you understood that the same thing was true for the man in front of you.

When he bit your lips in a last desperate gesture, you felt suguru's hips stuttering and his cock convulsing, this was the moment you exploded into an intense and overwhelming orgasm.

«God yes, here you are, let yourself be filled baby girl, take it all yes, yes, yes, everything everything all ...», one last push and had freed himself with a grunt, his lips had opened and his eyes were automatically closed.

Your body had abandoned itself completely, your face stood in its collarbone, and God, despite the consummate intercourse being half consenting, found you unexpectedly well in His arms.

His cock remained inside you a little longer, until it began to sag.

He still held you close to him, stuck between his body and the wall.

«I’m sure you and I would get along very well from now on, wouldn’t we?».

#geto headcanons #getou suguru x y/n #geto fanart #geto fluff #geto x y/n #geto x you #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru x you #gojo fanart #jujutsu satoru #jujutsu kaisen suguru

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desertfangs · 4 months

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Can I ask 1. (Canon I outright reject), 3. (Obscure headcanon) and 8. (Unpopular opinion about them) for Armand and Daniel?😊

I hope you have a nice end of the year!🥰

Send me character asks. Specify a character or I will default to Daniel.

Thank you! I hope you also have a lovely end of the year and a wonderful start to the new one! (I can't believe it's almost 2024 wtf.)

1. Canon I outright reject

Night Island is still around & it's still owned wholly by Armand and Daniel (though it's definitely been moved under the name of a corporate umbrella by now). Armand is far, far too sentimental to sell something that was so vitally important to him. I think he lies about it in his book for two reasons: 1. He was still wounded and lashing out at Daniel, and he knew saying he'd sold most of the island would hurt him, and 2. After QotD was published, a flood of tourists "looking" for Lestat came to the island (same as we VC fans go to New Orleans and "look" for them... we know they're not real, but...) and Armand did not like that one bit.

I also think the name was changed and it's probably open 24 hours now with a brand spanking new resort hotel circa 1999 or whatever, but it's still theirs and they still call it Night Island. And they still use the Villa regularly, and try to get Lestat and Marius to agree to host some Coven events there, too.

3. Obscure headcanon

I believe Daniel and Armand were together until 1993 or 1994, and were traveling around trying to reconnect and rekindle their relationship when they finally had the fight that split them up "for good" pre-MtD. Granted, I think for Armand it was Daniel leaving him "for good." I think for Daniel it was more "I need to take a break and clear my head, I'm going to take a time out." But they are terrible at communicating, especially when they're fighting, so... we all know how that went.

For a more fun--"fun"-- obscure headcanon, here is the worst thing I think Armand ever did in the name of weird science according to Daniel (tw: animal cruelty): he read about Edison electrocuting that poor elephant and got really interested in how that electrocution worked. So he got a fish bowl and experimented with fish. Then one night, Daniel finds the bathtub full of dead rats with a toaster in it, plugged into the wall. They definitely fought about it, and they definitely moved out of that apartment that night. It might one of the only times Armand truly skeeved him out, worse even than the rats in the microwave. He also didn't take baths for a good six months after.

Okay, sorry sorry, but that has been in my head for a while.

8. Unpopular opinion about them

I'm so bad at these because tbh I never know what "the popular" opinions are.

I guess I will say, I don't think Armand ever regretted turning Daniel and was, in fact, happy with how he turned out. We only get little glimpses into his thoughts on the matter in QotD, but he seems pretty enamored with Daniel as a vampire. For all his fears that Daniel might come to resent him for it, or no longer want/need him, he does seem pleased with the result. (Is this unpopular? I honestly do not know.)

I also don't think Daniel was a mess of a vampire or a bad fledgling. I think he experienced being a newbie vampire with an extreme intensity that made him quicker to laugh or more prone to staring at the patterns in the wallpaper, but I don't think that's particularly abnormal for a new vampire, either. I also think Daniel was especially elated to finally get the Blood - it meant not only would he not die a mortal death, but it was proof positive that Armand truly loved him as he always believed and wanted to spend eternity with him. He was riding a hell of a high, but I don't think he was mad, or out of his head, or a problem fledgling in any way.

I also firmly believe they had some solidly good years together in that time, and even though there were fights and arguments (and Armand's fears that he tried to manifest as self-fulfilling prophecy), they did actually have plenty of fun together until they split.

Again, I have no idea how "unpopular" any of that is.

Thank you again for the ask and happy new year!

#armand #daniel molloy #armand/daniel #devil's minion #vc headcanons #vc #answers in the desert #aberandlime #character ask meme #vampire chronicles

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mysteriousowlspy · 1 year

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Can we please discuss the fact that in Labyrinth Runners Gus off-handily told a scout (dressed as a friend), that the head of the Emperor's coven is a smelly homeless boy who hasn't showered in a week and to "be nice" about it.

Scout: *manifesting their high school drama improv days*

Gus: smelly, stinky boy

Scout: Uhhh... that line doesn't give me a lot to work with here

#gus i love you #but please stop giving the palace scouts something to gossip about (no matter how unintentional)#the owl house #the owl house season 2 #toh s2 #toh spoilers #labyrinth runners #gus porter #willow park #hunter #toh hunter #toh golden guard

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heyitschartic · 1 year

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I have been spinning a Blake and Rose in Worm story around my head, trying to figure out how to possibly fit their whole deal into the Wormverse. Case 70 sounds fun, maybe some Cauldron experiment on the same person from different realities. I think the idea that stuck though was that Rose Sr got into debts with Cauldron. I don’t know how that would manifest, maybe as simple as deals for vials, maybe she signed herself up as contractors with them. However it went, it was something that she purposefully carried over to the rest of her family. Cauldron is going down her line, bringing her kids into the fold one by one, giving them vials and sending them out into the world to work until they die.

Molly went first and passed on. Rose Jr and Blake were the twins, brought in next. They were brought into the world together and Cauldron tested their vials on them together. Maybe a bit of fun stuff there with a cluster for vial capes, not sure, either way Rose Jr came out of it fine, Blake didn’t. Case 53 Blake with something resembling his Boogeyman self is dropped into Cauldron’s cages and meets up with another Case 53, Green Eyes. Together they both manage to escape and head back to Earth Bet.

Rose Jr has been mind wiped to forget Blake. Maybe the Coven is Blake’s friends who triggered, maybe they’re Rose Sr’s old team who knew the twins. I’m not sure, either way, as far as all of them are concerned, Blake never existed. Rose starts her work for Cauldron with this group, all the while Blake and Green Eyes are chasing after her, maybe picking up a kid from the Parahuman’s Asylum along the way.

#pact #pactwebserial

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weathertheraine · 2 years

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I’ve been sitting on this AU for ages but finally caught up on S2 this weekend and got re-inspired to share it!!! I was so excited to see how well a lot of characters worked with the new content :000

If you take nothing else from this: Raeda Ukatake Raeda Ukatake Raeda Ukatake thank you for your time.

Spoilery content and more notes on the AU under the cut!!!

I love the parallels so much of Shoyo being naturally disadvantaged at magic but ‘finding a way to fly’ with glyphs!! And Kageyama learning to recognise what he does as a legitimate form of witchcraft and support him!!

Can’t believe “so you two go to the same school now, that doesn’t change anything!” Is canon

Kagehina Grom Danceeee

Natsu would be V - Shoyo is especially anxious to help her since she’s so young!

Can you believe I assigned the roles for this AU before Willow and Hunter had even interacted? I’m going to be replaying Tsukkiyama “Please, Captain” and “The real Tadashi would never be afraid of me” in my head for a while <3 It’s what they deserve

Yachi’s anxious spirals manifest physically as illusions like Gus’ (like her panic about being murdered or being homeless because she forgot the boys’ names)!!

Yachi as the head of the human appreciation society!

Sidenote: Hinata, Yachi and Yamaguchi as the best friend trio makes me unspeakably happy

As does the recent episodes that would have Tsukishima bonding with Yamayachi too

This is the one AU where I won’t torture Oikawa - he gets to fill the twins’ role, dragging Iwaizumi along when the plot needs two people lol. Oikawa and Kageyama mentorship: Good Ending - not sure if they’d be actual brothers or maybe step-brothers? But there’s some tension but ultimately Oikawa looks out for Tobio.

Nekomata (plus Ukai Sr) is the one who cursed Keishin- his old mentor(s), who initially pushed him to join the Emperor’s Coven thinking it was a safer strategy to be on the inside rather than hunted, and try to make change from there. They ‘cursed’ him by mistake, trying to use a spell to make him stronger because they weren’t confident he could pass the exam to get into the Emperor’s Coven.

Ukai Sr is the one Keishin injured, pushing him into retirement, which Keishin can’t forgive himself for

Tbh Nekomata and Ikkei could be switched around or like share those roles

Asahi initially is living with Ukai and helping where he can because he seems to be the last of his kind and doesn’t have anywhere else to go (and doesn’t know what he is, like King)

Him being a Titan, increasing his loneliness and his anxiousness about his size and power, makes me VERY sad /pos

Kuroo would fill Darius’ role (potentially with Bokuto as Eberwolf or another sympathetic Coven Head)- trying to look out for Kei and push him in the right direction

Akiteru would be a previous Golden Guard! For some reason there would be multiple attempts going at once, and they’ve been told that they’re brothers. The rift between them is because Akiteru “Betrayed the Emperor” (escaped) and is a Traitor and Kei is totally angry about That and not the fact that he left him behind (they will eventually reconnect)

Ittetsu’s Rhapsody. That’s all.

No but really. Ukai and Takeda as a little jock/nerd duo but Ittetsu breaking things off because Keishin won’t be honest about the curse and then leading a little rebel group and god it’s all so good <3 Raeda Ukatake is what originally sparked the idea for the AU

Ukatake True Love Duet

Coach Washijo would fill the role of Belos, with his focus on doing things the Right Way, his resistance to change, his mistrust of things that aren’t what he’s used to, his desire for power and order

Ushijima and Tendou (and potentially the rest of Shiratorizawa) would be high-ranking Coven Scouts, filling the narrative role that Kikimora does. Tendou is mostly sticking around because he wants to be able to use multiple kinds of magic and here he’s been told he’s allowed to. Ushijima is there so he doesn’t have to compromise his abilities. Both would eventually defect.

Kenma has a very different personality to the Collector in the show- it would focus on how BORED he is,, he needs something to entertain him because he’s going stir crazy. “I don’t really care about the draining spell but he said he’d get me out so :/”

There’s definitely stuff I’ve forgotten I have a lot of thoughts about this!!!!!

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heyhihellowhatsup0 · 2 years

Text

Once Upon A Scream (Witch! Tom Holland x Witch! Reader) - Prologue

Warnings: Filth in upcoming chapters, mentions of blood and violence, mentions of satanic stuff? Don’t know if thats a warning or not...

Word Count: 4029

Summary: As adversary witches, you and Tom spent your entire lives despising the other and their family’s magic. But when forces pull you together, a curse upon Tom’s town is unleashed and

A/N: Praying to the tumblr gods that this series doesn’t flop so please share it as much as you can! But happy fall! I’m so excited for this one because I am OBSESSED with witchy books and really want to do one for Tommo so I hope you guys like it? This one has one of my favorite enemies to lovers tropes that I have written and it’s been so much fun so far. Big thanks to @osterfield-holland-andcompany @lauras-collection for helping me out with this one and the moodboard! Pleaseeeee interact with it! THANK YOU AND ILY – xxx N

Looking vacantly in the mirror while smoothing out your black velvet dress, you waved your fingers around your head to allow your magic to put the final touches on your hair. This day was always filled with dread for you, but this year more so than ever. There was a lot riding on a day like today for you and your sisters, and now it was all your responsibility. The worst of it was trying to make a good impression on people who you knew very well despised you already.

At least that feeling was very mutual, you thought to yourself while you stepped into your heels before heading out. The Founding Family was one you had no choice but to endure considering you resided in the same town. Holland Hollow was a town far too small for rivals such as yourselves. And when a new witch had ascended like you had, it got significantly smaller.

Every Founder’s Day was when your coven had to present its reigning Supreme to the Founders. A tradition that began centuries ago when Holland Hollow was founded and slaughtered the majority of your deceased sisters because they were becoming more powerful than them. Unable to fathom the idea of a group far more powerful than the family itself of whom created its town.

But one sister, Hyacinth, survived. She and the Founder made a treaty to keep their respected magic within their proximity in the town and to never combine the coven’s magic with a Founder’s. In return, the Founding Family would call upon the Sister of Hyacinth on the same day each year; where they would feast together regardless of how they felt towards one another. The Supreme Witch would be announced, and be forced to manifest for the Founder, which you suspected was for them to make sure you weren’t as strong as they were. Centuries had passed, but the animosity was still very much alive.

For the mortals who resided in Holland Hollow, Founder’s Day was a festival to cherish and enjoy. A day of parades and parties, pumpkin carving competitions and pie baking contests. But for you and your fellow Sisters of Hyacinth, it was a reminder that the town you were in had full control over you and your magic. When it very much should have been the other way around. And with your magic now at the forefront, it so easily could be.

You never wanted to ascend to Supreme Witch, no one ever wanted the title. It was a burden for most as opposed to an honor. But when you ascended, your magic was the strongest in decades. And once you managed to keep it under control, you rose to the occasion and took on the title proudly. You may not have been born to lead the coven, but you fell into it so easily. Making your sisters proud and making them feel safe meant more to you than any magic you could gain.

After gathering a few herbs to bring downstairs, you headed through the corridors and down the spiral staircase to meet with the rest of the coven. All of your sisters were waiting for you so you could head to the Founder’s Day Gala together. You didn’t want any of them knowing how nervous you were but your chest was pounding when you greeted all of them. Being presented to the Founders was the last thing you wanted to do today when you already had so much work to do at the store.

That, and you were dreading having to manifest your magic in front of the Founder’s son, the Sovereign, Tom. Who was nearly as powerful as you and never let you forget it. As if the Founding Family wasn’t despised by you and your sisters enough; Tom was the additional thorn in your side that made you want to put another helping of Angelica Root in his tea.

The first time you did that still gave you a thrill of excitement every time you remembered how it made Tom’s hair fall out. Even if he still looked good without his brown curls, it was worth the confiscation of your herb garden at the time. And if anything with him happened like what had happened the first time, you would do far worse than Angelica Root.

You were always at each other's throats but ever since you became Supreme, Tom’s disdain for you had only increased. Maybe it was because you were finally a match for his magic and he didn’t like knowing a Sister of Hyacinth could keep up with him. But even you had to admit Tom was powerful; not only as a witch, but as a Founder. A part of you was envious of what he could do but the other part of you wanted to place another hex on him.

Taking in the fresh air as you walked into the town’s center, you tried to remind yourself of the positives of this day. There weren’t many, but one of them being that it was one of the few days out of the year where the energy within town was at its strongest and your magic could charge to an entirely new level.

Magic was a dreadful responsibility but the power it held was incredible. Surrounded by the right energies and witches it could make you feel all sorts of ways; tranquil, elated, even aroused depending on the witch. And as Supreme, all of that was now heightened for you. Holland Hollow was many things. But boring never seemed to be one of them.

You felt a shiver crawl down your neck as you sensed a familiar form of magic nearby. Breathing out a laugh while you excused yourself from your coven, you walked your way over to a table selling candied apples. Pursing your lips, you leaned over the table and found the source of the eccentric energy.

“I don’t suppose these apples carry any…particular ingredients in them to help a witch out, hmm?” you smiled when you got Harrison’s attention and leaned over to give him a hug. It felt nice to find someone similar to you walking amongst the mortals today but who understood the stress you were dealing with. Especially a witch who had a gift enabling him to grow any and every herb, regardless of the rarity, “Feverwort? Coffeeweed? Ugh, Haz! I beg of you…” your plea turned into a laugh when you saw his lips curve into a smile.

“As if I’d refuse a Supreme anything on a day of Founder’s…” Harrison rolled his eyes playfully while he slipped his hand into his back pocket and pulled out a small, clear baggie with muddle herbs in it, “Chrysanthemum and Coughort will do the trick,” he winked and extended his offering to you.

You practically squealed as you took the bag from him, “Oh! Thank Satan! I barely want to cross paths with that nightmare of a Founder in there. I’ll need anything to help me get through it…” you sighed into the cup of hot water Harrison had made appear in his empty hand for you.

Harrison was one of the nonaligned witches, meaning he didn’t have a coven of his own. He spent most of his days working in the public library, studying everything he could about the town’s history so he could collect and gather rare herbs and crystals for elixirs and serums that some witches may never gain enough skill to do. So he sold them to said witches for a fortune. But since you were Supreme and one of his closest allies, he traded you his findings for your coven’s famous homemade pumpkin streusel.

“Need I remind you, you’ll be on his territory while you manifest?” Harrison watched you carefully while you inhaled the drink Harrison had made for you. You rolled your eyes into your cup even though you knew he was right. “Tom may be your adversary, but he’s still the Sovereign,” his eyes narrowed.

“And I’m Supreme and can turn that lovely victorian he lives in into ash if I so choose,” you fought back with a grin. But you saw Harrison’s face and you shook off your annoyance, “I just hate this day. And I hate it even more now that I’m in charge of retaining a century’s old tradition…”

Harrison pressed his lips together and turned his head when the bells coming from the Founder’s Hall began to ring. He could sense your heart beating out of your chest and gently took your hand and brought it to his lips formerly, “Well, I know you’ll make your sisters proud today, Y/N,” he smiled when he let go of your hand and his eyes went to the short hem of your dress, “And you may just bring the Founders to their knees in that dress…” he chuckled before his attention was taken by a young girl asking for a candied apple.

With your sisters right behind you, you stood in front of the threshold to Founder’s Hall. Turning around to face them, you nodded your head with a small smile before you stepped in first while they quickly followed. The sounds of your heels clacking against the marble as you approached the center of the room where a long table was set up. The entire room was lit only by candles and it smelt of sage and rosemary.

If you didn’t know any better, it almost felt like your coven’s home. Only yours was better.

Your sisters took a seat at the table with the rest of the founding family. Their job was merely to present you to everyone in the room while you did everything else. And in a room filled with witches, the magic felt so strong it nearly knocked you out. But then you saw where the magic was coming from and immediately stiffened at the sight.

The Head Founder and Sovereign came forward and you tried your best to refrain from rolling your eyes at how serious they had looked walking towards you. It was as if they were trying to prove they had just as much magic as you and it nearly seemed laughable. Tom was a strong witch who didn’t have to prove a damn thing to you but it was nice knowing you clearly intimidated him.

You shook the hand of Tom’s father, The Founder, and tried your best to seem interested. You had never met them as Supreme so this time all eyes were on you and you had to be careful. The energy in the room was heavy but seemed to be masked by all of the festivities going on around so nobody seemed to take notice. Except you.

And Tom certainly noticed.

It wasn’t every day that the one witch he particularly despised rose to the most powerful position and now he had to play nice with her for the day. You had been the bane of Tom’s existence for as long as he could remember and he didn’t expect it to go any other way. He was more than loyal to his family and even more loyal to keeping all of the Sisters of Hyacinth as far from him as possible. With you being the main witch he desired to steer clear of after this.

Tom looked at you before him and sucked in a breath. You were a stunning witch, he couldn’t argue that. He had to remove his eyes from where your dress had ended and your legs began because he was afraid his father would take notice. Or worse. Having you take notice. Being a beautiful witch meant nothing and Tom quickly shook those thoughts away when he caught the expression on your face.

“Something you find amusing, your eminence?” It took a lot out of Tom to call you that. But he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his father’s wrath so he grinned and bore it for now. Taking a step forward while he raised an eyebrow at you, “And do I detect foxglove within you?”

“The only thing I find amusing is that you could probably summon Satan himself and still not know your herbs properly,” you answered snarkily with a playful smirk while you watched Tom’s scowl tighten on your gaze, “Oh, and Happy Founder’s Day, my Sovereign,” you added nonchalantly.

Tom’s father quickly chirped in to disrupt the squabble about to take place, “As tradition of our covenant, we offer the new reigning Supreme a token to remind us all of our reconciliation and neutrality…” he glared at Tom and waited for him to snap his fingers, allowing a box to appear in his hands.

Taking a few steps closer to you, Tom opened the box and extended it towards you. Your eyes rested against the sparkling pendant. As Tom removed it from the box, you noticed it was attached to a golden chain. You didn’t really want to accept anything from the Founders but you knew you had no choice in the matter so instead you bowed your head in gratitude while Tom opened the clasp and spun you around.

“This was the very same amulet worn by Hyacinth when she died in 1622. Given to her by none other than our Founding Father, Jeremiah, when the covenant was created,” the Founder spoke while you felt Tom’s breath on the back of your neck as he carefully draped the necklace around your neck. His fingers felt like ice against your skin, “We had only discovered it was in Jeremiah’s possession when we discovered his vault several years ago,” he added as Tom finished clasping the chain together.

Your eyes quickly met before you looked down at the pendant and then back at the both of them, “Ah, I see. So you’re just giving back what was rightfully ours anyway,” you answered cheekily and tried to shrug it off with a laugh, “And as always, my sisters and I are forever grateful for the treaty and our place here in Holland Hollow,” it was a line that was recited by each Supreme every Founder’s Day, and it still made you want to cut your own tongue out.

“As always, the Founding Fathers of Holland Hollow welcome any Sister of Hyacinth,” Tom responded with his ghastly line that made him cringe and want to rip that necklace fresh off your neck.

This was so old fashioned and new witches and Founders such as Tom thought ceremonies like these were incredibly impractical and only continued on because his father insisted on traditions. So Tom had to as well, “As long as the covenant remains in tact,” he added lazily, snapping the box closed in front of your face and grinning when you jolted, “Well…time to see what you’ve got, witch,” Tom muttered under his breath before he went to his seat beside his father.

Moving towards the center of the altar, you closed your eyes so you wouldn’t be intimidated being watched by so many people. You focused on your magic and collected as much energy from the room as you could. Repeating your incantation in your head over and over and putting all of your intent into it. Once you felt like you were in control of the moment, everything just got lighter.

Tom held back his gasp when he watched you levitate on the altar and blow out every single candle that was lit. He nor his father had seen a Supreme Witch do anything like that since…never. Tom had never seen anything like it before. How the hell were you so powerful and where were you conjuring that magic from?

He had known your coven had grown over the last few years and he heard certain things about some witches within it dabbling in both white and dark magic. Although, Tom couldn’t be one to judge too harshly regarding magic since he used both as well. Dark magic wasn’t necessarily bad but it came with a price and if you weren’t a powerful enough witch, it came with serious consequences. But Tom was powerful enough. And clearly, so were you.

That was going to be a problem, Tom thought to himself while he continued to keep his eyes on you still in the air. Now relighting each and every candle, one by one while the organ from across the room had begun to play as you gently came back down to the ground. Something like that seemed like a trivial type of magic but Tom and his father knew a typical witch couldn’t conjure all of that at once. But you did it without breaking a single sweat.

Your eyes slowly fluttered open when you heard the rupture of applause come from behind you. Smiling coyly while you turned around and took another bow towards the Founder as every Supreme before you had done. Walking your way back to the table as he announced that dinner should begin now that the ceremony was completed. You were famished and any type of sustenance would help refuel your energy again.

“Well, Satan below, aren’t you a clever little Supreme now,” Tom came into view with an empty plate and handed it to you while you both made your way over towards the buffet table. “It’s very cute seeing how hard you try,” he grinned snarkily as he continued to follow you around the table.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Tom?” you scoffed while you took a spoonful of the roast that had been brought out and placed some into your plate. Trying not to look back at Tom even though you felt his eyes glaring into your back, “Isn’t there a mortal waiting for you at The Watercress Magik to share an ecstasy potion with or something?” you rolled your eyes at the thought. You always heard rumblings of what the Sovereign would be up to with other members of the town and every story made you wish you had never heard it.

Tom let out a dry laugh, “Is that jealousy I sense? Oh, cara mia…” Tom teased as he hooked his fingers underneath the chain of your necklace and guided them to the pendant where you locked eyes, “I could conjure us up a potion right now if that’s what’s got you so worked up…” his eyes went back down towards your legs and his stomach flipped. “It’s a full moon tonight so we could-”

“Do not call me that,” you seethed at him through your teeth and swatted his hand away from you. How dare he think a Sister of Hyacinth would want anything to do with a Founder. The thought alone made you feel weak, “I’d rather ingest Wormwood than consume any type of potion with you, Tom…” you spat his name back at him as if it were venom.

“That’s no way to speak to your Founder,” he teased right back. Oh, you were certainly everything that Tom remembered to disdain and that feeling wasn’t going away any time soon. He grabbed a glass of wine from the bar and sat beside you at the table. He had to get the last jab in, “I don’t suppose I need to remind you about what had happened during the Bealtaine last equinox, hm, cara mia?” his words had you frozen and he knew he had you at a checkmate.

You silenced him with a wave of your finger, tossing it towards Tom’s lips and sealed them shut with your magic. Your blood was boiling and he was getting a rise out of you, which only infuriated you further. You took a breath as you leaned in, “Remind me all you want, Tom. We all know what the outcome of that story was…”

As you trailed off, you moved your fingers again and forced his wine glass into the palm of your hand without even trying. You brought the glass to your lips smugly while your eyes remained on Tom’s, “And we both know that neither of us would be in our current positions if the Bealtaine happened any differently,” your tone was clipped before you got up and walked away.

Tom stared at the now empty glass with a huff. His eyes flickering towards the sparkling gem resting upon your neck and he suddenly felt his energy rising. Muttering a spell to himself while he glared at you and the necklace in order to remind you precisely who Tom was.

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#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you

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