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#why do i get punished but she just gets to live on her perfect life without even apologizing to me?

txttletale · 2 days

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could you elaborate on your thoughts on boom and 73 yards ( i agree with you i am just struggling to put into words why.)

boom was whatever. the initial conceit of the doctor being trapped and having to stay calm was really cool! i really like that. the ambulances that euthanize you if you're not deemed worthy of medical care and the tacky chatgpt hologram ghosts were both really cool ideas. it just doesn't stick the landing for me, the twists are contrived and fall apart given any thought whatsoever. like what the fuck were any of the soldiers Doing if there just straight up weren't any enemies. it's a twist that sounds cool to say more than it has any meaningful impact on the story or the stakes. i guess 'the arms manuifacturer created a fake conflict' is the intended emtional stakes there but that would hit like a hundred times harder if it was an actual conflict between two factions and people were dying, right? like if anything sending a christian militia to blow themselves up tae fuck on a nowhere planet instead of presumably killing actual living people is an improvement, surely?

also the resolution was dumb as fuck lol i am a huge hater of power of love saves the day shit not because i'm a cynical misanthrope but because it never fails to make me say 'oh so i guess nobody ever loved anybody before lol' and this is no exception like if one chatbot can shut down the whole operation beacuse he loves his daughter are we meant to believe that no other parents or hell nobody who loved anybody else for any reason died in this fake war before? it's cheap and schmaltzy and unearned. anyway the first twentyish minutes of this are all-time great doctor who and gatwa/gibson were incredible in it but it absolutely falls apart into a confused pileo f some of the worst Moffatisms at the end

73 yards on the other hand was incredible! obviously like it requires you to approach it with a different mindset to most of doctor who, right, doctor who usually furnishes you with the big explanation scnee where the doctor says 'well the ghosts were actually particle wave vectorforms created with the necros radiation from the god-king's techsceptre' or whatever--this is the usual narrative mode of sci-fi--but 73 yards is fantasy, right, this is the twilight zone, this is 'wouldn't that be fucked up?'. i interrogate the technical and logical specifics of boom so much when i think about it because that's the language boom is speaking, boom is framing itself within this logical, a-to-b worldview, the satisfying click-together puzzlebox. but 73 yards is a nightmare or a folk tale, right? kate stewart¹ says it herself, 'when faced with the inexplicable, we make up rules and apply them to it'.

so yknow reading it that way it all clicks together beautifully, right, (apart from russel t davies' embarassing swing and miss at Political Commentary in the middle. we get it davies you wrote years and years. we know. trust me we know). the doctor and ruby disrupt the binding circle, free mad jack, and are punished -- the doctor, as perpetrator, with being banished (perhaps in jack's place) and ruby with her worst fear coming true constantly, until ruby defeats mad jack, re-sealing him and fixing what she broke, at which point the circle rewards her by reversing the punishments. and the core horror i think is very effective and unsettling! the idea that there is something that someone could say to turn everyone against you, the closest people to you in your life, your own family, the institutions that are meant to deal with the exact problem you're having--that's fucking terrifying! and yknow i think especially as an autistic trans lesbian something that speaks to me a lot

so yeah. i think that boom establishes its logics and framework and then trips and falls onto its face while 73 yards does the same and then makes perfect use of them. that said i think in 20 years people who are autistic about doctor who will be like 'did you know in the 2020s there were two episodes in a row where the doctor caused the entire plot to happen by stepping on something' and thjatll be the main thing they're remembered for

#ask #doctor who

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bluerosefox · 9 months

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Assassin Heir? Crime Fighting Furry? NOPE NO THANK YOU!

"Danyal, its time to end this game and return with me."

Danny should had known Clockwork had something in mind when he sent him on this mission. He knew he should had been suspicious of the time keeper when he noticed the little 'this is going to be fun' smile on his face when he sent Danny off into the portal.

"Get back here you demon spawn 2.0!"

But how was he supposed to know that he'd wake up in this world version of himself in a pit full of corrupted (AND NASTY) ectoplasim at the tender age of five or that when he swam up to the surface he'd be meeting face to face with what was apparently a cult.

"-O just spotted him a block away! I'll try to cut itty bitty bridie off!"

An Assassins Cult his, new to him, loving yet a little insane mother was in charge of (though during the few months he stayed in the compound he heard rumors and gossip from maids and others alike that if his grandfather returned from the dead he'll take over once again, no doubt punish Talia for creating another heir after the failure of the last one, most likely was going to kill Danny and that... that was can of worms Danny didn't wanna deal with yet)

"Ten bucks says they try to stab RR when we get the feral thing home"

"...Losers bet...."

Danny had lived with his mother for a while after being brought back from the 'dead' for apparently the first time, it turned out training a five year old with an actual sword and a dumbass hidden revenge seeking teacher was a terrible idea.

"I swear if this one tries to murder me like the others I'm asking Zatanna if there is a curse on me."

He dealt with her high demands of perfection, the endless training, and the constant comparisons to his apparent older brother Damain... Who didn't know Danny, or rather Danyal existed.

Nor did his father (when Danny, using his powers he's kept hidden since 'waking' up in this Realm, he sneaked his way around the base and discovered how he came into the world. And tbh he couldn't blame his mom how she made him, she was an assassin first and foremost, being naturally pregnant would had painted a target on her for to long... but he also felt it was unfair and an asshole move on his unsuspecting father as well)

"As your elder brother I demand you to stop running!"

Now don't get him wrong, he did like his new mother (total badass assassin lady and all that) and he knew she loved him in her own... deadly way. But yeah, she really shouldn't be taking care of kids. He could tell she struggled with wanting to be a normal mother but her first instinct after so many years was to be an assassin first.

Something she was trying to engrave into Danny with as well.

"Ah, hello Beloved. I see you've learned of our Danyal."

"Talia. Back away from him and leave Gotham now."

"I can not do that. The League needs an heir and since Damian refuses to return... I have decided to create a new one and I shall not be leaving until he returns with me."

"Talia."

Hence why when Danny, or rather Danyal al Ghul had gotten decent control over his powers he decided to leave the League. Again nothing wrong with the life his mom leads, to each their own, but he... really, really didnt want to be an assassin. Or an assassin heir.

So here he was, after almost a year on the run, using his powers and training to out smart and out maneuver his mother and her many band of Assassins, in Gotham. One of the last places he ever wanted to run to cause he knew his father and brother lived here.

It was just his luck that his mother had managed to intercept his train ride that passed into Gotham for a few hours and forced him to run into the city...

Add her assassins into the mix and running into Robin, who heard from Oracle his mother had been spotted chasing a young boy across the city, that same night.

After that it became a full on "catch me if you can" chase for not only his mother but for the batclan as well.

And after two whole days of chase, it seemed like the final showdown was about to begin because everyone was on top of this rooftop, his mother and her assassins on one side, his father and the batclan on the other and Danny well... he was right in the middle of all of it.

He just had to hope no one would notice him once the fighting started...

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #blue rambles #crossover #writing ideas #random idea #danny phantom dc #basicly Danny is sent on a mission by CW #he wakes up in the DC version of himself in the pits after being killed and Talia tossing him in #he was created by Talia since shes head of the LOA now and needs her own heir #but she once again wants Bruce's bloodline in it so she used some leftover dna she still had #so no one knows Danny was created until he left about a year later #danny has his ghost powers since he took a dip in the pits #but had to relearn some control and kept it secret #he knows his mom would see it as 'the pits granted my heir its powers.' mindset #so hes been on the run #and didnt wanna go to Gotham cause... his dad dresses as a gaint bat #and dont get him started on the rest of the batfam #he doesnt wanna be an assassin or a crime fighting furry #in case some people didnt get it. the words being spoken happen when Danny is running all across Gotham away from those after him #guess who said what lol #i want danny to be completely independent and trying to take care of himself tbh #but hes still baby to everyone else #talia is slowy becoming a little unhinged due to being the Demon Head now #maybe due to the stress of it all? or maybe due to a curse? idk

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stars-in-a-jam-jar · 1 month

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I don't think Buddy asks Helio any questions.

Kristen asked 'Why do bad things happen to good people?' because she believed in all the good things she was taught, but noticed the strange disconnect between the world as it was and the world as it was taught to her. So she thought, surely, if I can't come up with the answer, Helio will have it. And she hates him for dodging her question.

Buddy is far more deluded than Kristen ever was. And he is far, far angrier inside as a result, even if he deliberately conceals this fact from himself to protect himself from the inevitable mental breakdown this would cause. Buddy is not as altruistic and giving and caring as Kristen is. He wouldn't question why he was betrayed or dig into a question like 'Why do bad things happen to good people?' Those aren't the answers he needs, because of course he'd be betrayed by someone outside the church, that makes perfect sense. Of course bad things happen to good people, we simply live in a fallen world.

Or, well. He used to live in a fallen world. Now he's dead here. In Helio's divine domain.

I think Buddy, as he wanders through fields of corn to the big farmhouse where Helio is chilling out, privately thinks about the fact that Kristen Applebees' horrified expression was the last thing he ever saw before a sharp pain in his throat. I think Buddy assumes Helio knows he's thinking this and apologizes for bringing thoughts like that into paradise. I think he thanks Helio for recognizing his devotion and bringing him here once he died and dutifully deceives himself about his own rising emotions at contending with the fact that he's dead now.

After all, he was raised to die. He was raised to want to die.

To want to be here with his god whenever it was he called Buddy to him. So he doesn't feel upset, no, of course not. He's just a little surprised at how sudden it was. (How completely random. How unceremonious and unfair.) He's a little bit worried how his grandparents would react to the news is all. (He cracks a joke that maybe he'll see them here shortly after they do get the news. He doesn't laugh at it.) He had his own plans for how he'd spread the good word in life, but of course, Helio had other plans. (Nothing Buddy ever wanted really mattered. He knew that, he knew the will of Helio was the real thing that mattered, and everything else was just a small list of preapproved extracurriculars in the syllabus of his life.)

He can't be upset about this.

He shouldn't be upset about this.

This is his reward.

This place and these people and this god are his reward for a life of service and devotion and walking in the light.

It's not his place to be upset about his own reward. Kristen got upset when she went to heaven, when she met Helio, and look where that got her.

Look... look where that got her.

He thinks he hates her. For looking at him like that. All the ways she looked at him. Like he was something pitiful and contemptible. Someone she needed to threaten away from her little brother. Someone she has to double and triple check if he's going to revive her when he's under magical oath to do just that or lose his connection to a divinity she threw away after being chosen.

And then. In that last moment, she looked at him and he saw grief and horror and caring. Like his death was awful and unfair and tragic.

And he thinks maybe he hates her for that. For challenging him every conversation they had and looking at him like she knew something he didn't. Like she was above him. Like killing your own god twice in life is a preferable fate to living for the promise of eternal sunlight and cornbread in death. A promise which was kept to him.

Kristen was promised to Helio, too.

And he can't unsee her face. He can't move along and focus on what truly matters (Helio, the church, spreading the word, doling out divine punishment when needed) because he's reached the end. There is nothing left. Only this bright sunny cornfield and a god who... is nice. And who cares about him, personally. He got Buddy's name wrong the first and only time they held audience.

He thinks he hates Kristen, and he hates that that hatred isn't immediately squashed out of his soul just by being here. In paradise. Where he belongs. Where every follower of Helio belongs. Where he never has to have anyone look at him the way Kristen did ever again.

I don't think Buddy Dawn asks Helio any questions. Because how do you ask the god you devoted every waking minute of your life to, 'Why do I hate it here? Why does this feel like hell?'

(There's a part 2 now that the next ep is out >:3)

#fantasy high junior year spoilers #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #d20 fhjy #dimension 20 #buddy dawn #kristen applebees #kristin applebees #cw death #religious trauma #wow I really said 'he was raised to want to die' without even flinching didn't I?

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muchmorethanmoney · 24 days

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I think Rosie is a key factor to understanding Alastor's outlook on friendships.

The show all but spells out that Alastor sees attachments as a weakness, from the "Great Alastor, altruist, died from his friends" line to the hints about his failed friendship with Vox and to the way the narrative immediately punishes him when he admits to Niffty that "One could get accustomed". However something sets Rosie aside from all of this. With her, Alastor is open about scheming, he allows her to touch him and even seems to bleat like a fawn when she grabs him. Their friendship seems oddly healthy for a guy who seems to think that letting people even peek through the twenty meter wall he's built around himself is a fate worse than death. So what makes Rosie different? I think what sets her aside from other attachments that Alastor might view as dangerous (such as Vox, maybe?) is that no matter how close they might be, she still has her own world and he has his. There's a safety in knowing your life won't have to change and that you're free to take any risk, ruin any bond because you're not directly putting this person in danger. Rosie is Alastor's friend, not his responsibility. That's why she's not as affected by Alastor's disappearance and welcomes him back as if he had been gone for a week. Their lives are completely separated, but they choose to meet at the borders.

I think that someone like Vox doesn't do that. Vox lives with Velvette and Valentino, they share everything, success, plans, even a living space. Heck, Velvette can go to the Overlord meeting representing the other two because that trio can speak as one. When Vox asked Alastor to "join his team", he was basically asking Alastor to remodel his life to make space for him as well. If one of the Vees fucks up, all of them fuck up ("Our model is perfection"). Alastor has his own plans, his own messes and cannot by any means be tied down to someone else. Even if he did care for Vox, in order to really be on a team with him or anyone else, he would have to drop his creepy persona which keeps him safe, he couldn't just kill people and betray others however he wished, let alone make sketchy deals with much more powerful entities. His actions would impact the ones he kept close. Vox and Alastor couldn't join forces because they have fundamentally different goals and outlooks on attachment. Vox wants codependency, Alastor has conjured up indestructible walls just to survive.

So, tl;dr: Rosie and Alastor work as friends because they seemingly agree to keep their lives separate. Vox wanted to carve a niche for himself in Alastor's life just like he had done for him, but that's just not what Alastor wants nor is able to give.

#alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel meta #rosie hazbin hotel #vox hazbin hotel #tagging duo names/ship names as well bc that's how I organize my blog however this is meant as platonic :3 (read it however u want tho obvs #radiostatic #radiorose #one sided radiostatic #one way broadcast

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vroomvroomcircuit · 4 months

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Early Risers vs. Night Owls

(A/N): Special thank yous to @foreveralbon and @disneyprincemuke for helping me choose which drivers are morning people and which are more of night owls.

Summary: Some people are night owls, others are morning people. But there is another sort that some drivers learn to fear: Morning Monsters (it's the reader)

Pairings: (All platonic) daniel ricciardo x driver!reader, charles leclerc x driver!reader, carlos sainz x driver!reader, oscar piastry x driver!reader (max and lando get a guest starring)

Word count: 1.2k

🏎Masterlist🏎

________________________

It’s difficult, being a night person in a day people’s world. It really is. Especially when you are around morning loving human beings.

“Oh, don’t you look happy?” Carlos comments, when (Y/N) steps into the breakfast room. Coincidentally, several teams are accommodated in the same hotel during this race weekend.

As she lets herself fall in a seat at his table, the young female whispers an annoyed “Don’t”. “I wasn’t saying anything mean?” He genuinely questions. Is his English failing him again?

“Please, just stop talking. It’s only the ass crack of dawn, how can someone be so chatty?” (Y/N) puts her head onto the table, effectively stopping any further conversation with the Spaniard. He looks a little bit lost into his fruit bowl, not sure how to handle this situation adequately.

“Top of the morning, my sunshines,” a smiling Daniel Ricciardo strolls into the room. The happiness radiating from him reaches (Y/N) even through her closed eyes.

Just as Daniel arrives at their table, she gets up with the most sluggish motions a sober person can muster. “Coffee” is the only thing mumbled, answering to the confused looks around her.

Shortly after, she sits down again with a cup in her hands, not even bothering to try to follow the chatting between Daniel and Carlos. (Y/N) just stares into space, wondering where she went wrong in her life to have to sit in between two morning people. Surely, this is a punishment of some kind.

“Ok, what is up with you? You look like you are about to murder everyone in this room if someone just dares to breathe in the wrong direction,” Daniel observes. (Y/N) takes another sip from her coffee. “Because it’s true.”

Carlos can’t wrap his head around it. “But what happened to the sunshine-in-person-(Y/N)?” “How am I supposed to be a sunshine, when I’m barely a person at this moment?” Well, that is not a lie. She does look pretty rough. Not everyone can wake up and look perfect like Florence Pugh. Some people have to look more like Merida herself in the mornings.

“Why are you talking to this woman during the early hours?” Charles, who just entered the breakfast hall, fears for their lives. “Because this is what people do? They talk when they sit together?” Daniel is confused. What is so bad about making conversations?

Charles steps closer to their table and (Y/N) immediately latches onto him, burying her face into his stomach.

“Don’t you value your life? A tired (Y/N) in the morning needs quiet and some hugs.” The young woman mumbles something, making the Monegasque laugh. “Yes, and coffee. This is the recipe to get the sunshine person you know and love.”

Confused, the other two drivers blink. Did they miss the manual that came with the rookie?

“And you know all of this, because?” Carlos asks the question that popped up in both their heads. “Because (Y/N) and Arthur were together in F2 and he had been ‘chewed out by her like a pack of gum by a class of elementary schoolers’, his words, not mine. She is not all bark and no bite, isn’t that right?” (Y/N) nods, her head still buried into his front.

“Do you want to catch a ride to the paddock with me? I plan on leaving in five minutes.” (Y/N) nods again and quickly gathers her things before waving the other drivers goodbye.

The ride is filled with silence, Charles even leaves the radio turned off. This lets the female drive in and out of a state of half-asleep until they arrive at their destination. At the same time a certain papaya wearing aussie his own car not far away from Charles’ Ferrari.

“Oh, is it still too early?” He asks her with a small smile. Just like Arthur, Oscar is aware how much of a night owl (Y/N) is, having witnessed her outbursts first hand several times during his own career in F2.

The driver nods as she throws herself into his embrace. A tired (Y/N) turns into the most cuddly person. “Let’s get you a cup of coffee, can’t have you go around screaming at people. You will scare everyone off.”

Oscar is pretty much the only smiling person she tolerates in the morning. Whenever another human being dares just grinning in her direction during her own waking up phase, she is ready to jump their throats. But Oscar is different. He doesn't do it out of mocking or pitiness. He is genuinely happy and wants to show and share it. Also, he radiates a nice calm aura, which is the complete opposite to what she experiences during the days of a race weekend.

When Carlos passes (Y/N) by later, he walks up to her with caution, keeping his teammates' warning in mind, “Hey Carlos, have you heard the rumors about the newest Taylor Swift album? Do you think it will feature a song about Nando?”

The woman in front of him has nothing in common with the one he interacted with just an hour ago. She somehow even looks completely different from her. It’s the kind of freshness that doesn’t come with a shower.

“Uhm, no I did not. Are you ok? You seemed… a bit out of it this morning.” There is a hesitation in his voice, not wanting to accidentally offset her.

But (Y/N) just laughs it off. “Oh yeah, that. I’m sorry for being a grump back there. Just like Charlie said, I’m absolutely not a morning person. During the first hour of being awake I’m an absolute monster. Just, don’t talk to me or only when it’s absolutely necessary during that time. I apologize for my behavior, it wasn’t nice. Today was particularly bad, because I do my best work at night and I have been pouring over some data until 2 am. I’ll try to give you a warning next time!”

With that she is off, looking for her partner in crime aka her teammate to start some kind of mischief with the social media team.

Carlos is just flabbergasted. The duality of some people and how a small cup of caffeine can bring that out of them is astonishing.

Just remember to never fuck with night owls during the early hours of the morning.

Bonus Scene

During a free week some drivers set a date to play a private paddle tournament together in Monaco. Daniel enters the court with a big smile. After all, it is a fresh, sunny morning. This day is a promise of having a good time with his friends and colleagues, playing their favorite game and having lunch plans together.

What sets the Australian off are the three frowning faces, sitting on a bench nursing each a can of Red Bull solemnly. “What happened to you?”

Max answers his question first with a grumpy voice. “I had to leave my cats cuddled up in my bed alone.” “My alarm woke me up while the first number on the clock was still a single digit.” Landoo sounds about as tired as (Y/N) next to him looks like.

“Life”, Daniel answers for the young woman already, who just nods and pulls the strings of her hood closed, hindering someone else to make more conversations with her until the caffeine has kicked in.

Desperate times call for desperate measures after all.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x driver!reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x driver!reader #oscar piastry x reader #oscar piastry x driver!reader #x reader #x driver!reader #f1 x reader #f1 x driver!reader #x fem!reader #f1 fanfic #reader insert #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x driver!reader

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hoshigray · 10 months

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Hiii!! I rlly love your work & I appreciate you! Ty for ur writing <3 I was wondering if you could do something where reader convinces Toji to let her do his makeup and and and and she straddles him while he’s laying down to do it 🥺 maybe reader gets a little confident n bratty bc of the position n it gets a little spicy ? if you’re feeling up to it ! 🌲💕 this is my first ask so please lmk if my etiquette is off!

Oh, no worries, noonie! Your etiquette is okay, and your request is so cute like wth!!? :00 I worked on this after coming back from my trip, so apologies if this doesn't seem to be in my usual writing style. Also, to make this funny, I tried makeup for the first time while I was away!! Lol, so the experience really came around for this ask, so I appreciate it and hope you like what I jotted down! Other than that, hope you had a wonderful weekend ♡

Cw: Toji x reader - fluff mostly, but it gets suggestive at the end - grinding (m! receiving) - thigh riding (?) - impact play/spanking (2x) - pet names (baby, princess, pumpkin) - putting makeup on Toji <3 - reader and Toji being adorbs omg stop hehehe~ Wc: 1k

"How long is this shit supposed to be?"

"Sit still, will you? I can't work with you constantly moving."

"Tch, you're lucky I'm lettin' you do this because of a bet."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Open your eyes so I can see how it looks." Begrudgingly, Toji opens his eyelids to reveal the emerald eyes you're familiar with. "Okay, close them again."

It's a lazy Sunday afternoon. You and your boyfriend hang out at your place to chill, spending time cuddled up on the couch and watching television. It was your usual weekend routine, being close o your boyfriend like this. However, today was different compared to the other relaxing days prior.

Here you are on your living room couch, straddling Toji's lap with your hands occupied by a palette of green and gold eyeshadow in one and a brush in the other. Reason why? About two days ago, Gojo and Toji got into an argument as they usually do, something about their favorite sports team going against each other. Your man then had the fantastic idea to bet on his team, saying he'll do whatever Gojo says if his team doesn't win.

Why was the idea fantastic? Frankly, it's no surprise to you and the snow-haired other that Toji cannot win a bet to save his life. So when the score showcased the apparent outcome of the older man's loss, Gojo took his win in playful pride. And the punishment? Well, mounting on top of him today should explain it.

"You know, you got a pretty nice eye shape. You're pulling this look off quite nicely." Dadding his closed eyelid with the brush, you paint lime green atop the dark green eyeshadow cascading around his eyes. You chose to do nothing too audacious for the man, as you're just taking pictures and sending them to Gojo afterward.

He scoffs at your comment. "You said that about twenty minutes ago with the other shit you put on me."

"Yeah, well, can't blame me for admiring my handsome man being so fetching. If I slapped a nice dress on you and headed to the club later, I'd bet you'd have a line of men and women trying to ask you out."

"You tryin' to say I'm hotter than you, pumpkin?" He lifts a brow and then snickers after you bonk him in the head with a white highlighter pen.

"Shut up and stay still so I can put this on." You use the pen to apply by the corner of his eyes. Now two white hearts are harbored close to the bridge of his nose. After asking him to open his eyes again, you maneuver around to ensure that both eyes are even. And you beam when you feel accomplished with what you've done. "Perfect! Alright, onto the next part."

"The liner thingy?"

"Yup!" He chortles at your enthusiasm while you grab the item from your makeup bag. Closing his eyes again, you work on the bottom of his lids to form a steady black wing that ventures out. You giggle; who knew doing makeup on your boyfriend would be so much fun? Maybe I should put him in a dress.

With a gleeful attitude and a merry hum, you swing your hips around as you work. But you halt when you feel Toji's hands come to your hips, and you stop moving.

"Hold on there, baby." Toji's hands rub your hips. "Movin' too fast."

It doesn't click you until you realize the position you're in. Your legs still slip apart to sit atop his lap, your bottom directly above his groin. And that's when an idea pops up in your head, unable to fight the grin sneaking up on your face.

Your hips move once more but in a slower motion this time. Toji opens the eye you're not working on to look at your face, but you don't acknowledge it and just continue applying the eyeliner.

"I know you heard me the first time." A silent giggle confirms his suspicions.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Close that eye up." He gives you a furrowed look, yet he does what you instructed, allowing you to examine your work before laying the black material on his other eye. And as your hips continue to apply pressure on his crotch, Toji groans at the motion.

"So you're just gonna act deaf on me, huh."

You bit your lip to conceal the giddiness in your smile. But then it's replaced with an abrupt shriek from your lips when a sudden smack of pain comes down on your ass. "Oww!! Hey, quit it!"

"Quit what?" Now it's his turn to act dumb, giving him a glare while Toji chuckles.

"Whatever. Let me finish this up." You grumble while laying the last strokes of your eyeliner, yet you still grind on Toji. And you can feel the tent of his sweatpants slowly protrude. After a few seconds, you close the eyeliner and put it into your bag. "Now for the final touch. Some cute lip gloss for you...Ahhhh!! Toji, stop it!"

"Then quit grindin' up on me, brat." he snarkily warns you, rubbing his hand on your ass after hitting it again.

"Why? Hate that I'm making you hot and bothered like this?" Your hips grind harder on his tent, and he exhales with scrunched brows. He scowls at you, lidded emerald eyes branding holes into yours. But you don't falter and resume acting tough. "Don't want me to give you attention for being so pretty?"

Before you get an answer, Toji grabs for your ass and shifts to stand up from the couch, and you scramble to warp your arms around his neck before you stumble off the older, muscular man. He walks out of the living room with your arms. And he throws you down to the bed of your room with a tiny 'oof' coming from you.

"You wanna give me some attention, huh?" Toji crawls up on the bed and kisses your lips while sliding a hand down in your leggings, fingers nestling and pushing onto your soaked panties. Your whimpers are taken by his mouth as he kisses your neck. The gloss on his lips leaves sticky marks where he places them. "How 'bout you sit there and look pretty fr' me, then?"

"Mmmph...At least, let me take a picture of your makeup," you say with eyes sewn shut. "Gotta send it to—Ahhmmm..."

"Later," Toji withdraws himself to take off his sweatpants. "In the meantime, lemme fuck the shit outta y'r cute and bratty ass, princess."

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chimmykai · 3 months

Text

Welcome to my "Why August should have the Crown" but in a bad way.

We've all seen how Wilhelm feels about being Crown Prince; he doesn't want it and he would we miserable with his role.

The Crown is a punishment to him, and he realised that. So I think it will be implied in S3 that in the future he will give it up.

And August will then became officially his backup. Some people in the fandom (and Wilhelm and Simon) still sees that in a bad way because they think that this will be like a prize to August and it might be in the beginning, but I think soon August will realise that it's indeed a punishment.

August is no Erik or Wilhelm; he doesn't have the people's love since he was a little kid, he has no media training, the Queen isn't even on his side, he was not born to play this role. Wilhelm either but he at least had grown up in this enviroment...

Also, imagine the day the news outlet find out that;

His father committed suicide

He can't stand his stepdad and went bankrupt.

He has no money left

This will cause a great scandal...

We are all forgetting that August suffers from an eating disorder, has low self-esteem and a drug adiction. How do you think he will cope with all of this?

I do believe that August is in love with Sara, and he's still not over it as seen in the trailer. And I think this moment in season 2 says a lot.

Dear August, you really think that the Royal Court will let you date the neurodivergent daughter of an inmigrant mother and drug addict father whose brother is in a sextape/dating the ex-Crown Prince?

August doesn't realise that from now on his life will be controlled by the Royal Court. The conversation of the 10 year plan that he had over the phone in S2 seemed to stressed him but didn't realise how serious it was; well, welcome to your new life.

Also, August doesn't have anyone; no father, he's angry at his mom, can't stand his stepdad, he doesn't have friends because the ones he had on S1 turned his back at him in S2 when Wilhelm said something...

I'm no Kristina fan and her decisions, but let's remember that she's a mourning mother. In less than a year her life changed dramatically. In public she might seem close to August but in private? He's the one that caused her remaining heir to think about giving up the crown and end her dinasty (?) by outing him in a sextape video... Don't think she will be fond of him...

So yeah, I think that August won't go to prison and won't be held accountable for what he did. He will graduate and then his life won't be his anymore, because from now on the Royal Court will be the one dictating all of his decisions.

Meanwhile Wille will get to live his life just like he wanted, free from that control.

And it will be poetic that August will be the one taking up his place, because he will then start to suffer what he thought he wanted.

August thinks that he will be the perfect Crown Prince, but he doesn't realise that being a Prince is not a privilege but a punishment.

#prince wilhelm #simon eriksson #wilmon #young royals #yr season 3 #august horn #young royals theory #sara eriksson

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itsmealaiah · 4 months

Note

I'm so in love with Bill's star tattoo SOOO

Female reader asking bill why he did it and her secretly loving it she ends up teasing him so much that he punishes her by overestimating her

You just love this, don't you?

tags/ warnings: smut under cut, p in v, riding dom! bill, reader teasing bill about the tattoo, overstimulation, squirting, begging and cursing.

MDNI

pairing: bill x fem reader (not described)

Your POV:

As I was making myself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, I glanced over at Bill, who was sprawled out on the couch in our apartment, flipping through channels. His broad chest rose and fell with each breath, and I couldn't help but admire the new star tattoo that curved around his hip. It was a perfect addition to his already impressive ink collection. He glanced up at me as I walked into the living room, his brown eyes meeting mine. "What's up, baby?" he asked, voice laced with lazy humor.

I paused for a moment, debating whether or not to ask him about the tattoo. I knew it had been awhile since he'd gotten inked, but I hadn't seen any pictures of it yet. "Hey, Bill? Why'd you get that new star tattoo?" I pointed to the small, intricate design on his hip. He chuckled, rolling his eyes playfully.

"Oh, come on, you really want to know?" he teased. I grinned, stepping closer to him.

"Maybe I just want to see if it's as sexy in real life as it is in the pictures." His smirk grew, and I could feel a blush creeping up my neck. "It's pretty nice, I guess." I laughed, trying to play it cool. "Don't you think?"

He shrugged, still smiling. "I mean, it's alright, I guess." I couldn't help but laugh at his modesty. "But it's not like you're going to forget about it anytime soon." His words hung in the air, and for a moment I wondered if I'd gone too far with my teasing. But then, he let out a soft groan and stood up, towering over me.

"You're just saying that because you like it," he growled playfully, reaching out to grab my wrist and pull me closer to him. His grip was firm, but not painful. "You know I could make you forget about it, if I wanted to." His voice was low and husky, sending shivers down my spine.

I raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze. "Oh yeah?" I challenged, my heart beginning to race. "And how would you do that, exactly?" I could feel the heat between my legs start to build, and I knew exactly what he was going to do.

He grinned, his perfect lips curving into a wicked smile. "I could make you forget about it with this," he whispered, his fingers brushing against my stomach before moving lower, over the lace of my underwear. My breath hitched as I felt his warm, calloused hand stroke me through the fabric, and all coherent thoughts fled from my mind.

"Ohhh…" I moaned, arching my back against his touch. He chuckled, his hand moving faster, his fingers curling deeper inside of me. I couldn't believe how good it felt, how much I needed this. His other hand found its way under my shirt, tracing patterns on my bare skin as he continued to tease me. "Bill…" I breathed his name, my hips moving of their own accord in time with his touch.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. "You like that, baby?" he whispered, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. "You like how it feels?" My answer came out in a wordless moan as I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer still. His other hand left my stomach to cup my breast through my shirt, squeezing gently before rolling my nipple between his fingers.

"Bill…" I whimpered, my head falling back against the couch as I lost myself in the sensation of his touch. He increased the pace, his fingers thrusting deeper inside of me, and I could feel my release building, growing closer with every thrust of his hand. His lips traveled up my neck, sucking and nipping at my skin, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my entire body.

"That's it, baby," he murmured against my skin. "Let it go." And with those words, I felt my orgasm crash over me, washing away all thought and leaving only the exquisite sensation of his touch. He continued to stroke me through my release, his fingers never losing their rhythm, until my breathing began to steady again. Only then did he finally pull his hand away, allowing me to catch my breath.

He pressed his lips to mine, soft and gentle at first, before deepening the kiss, his tongue dancing with mine. His other hand found its way back up to cup my breast, squeezing gently. I moaned into his mouth, arching my back, wanting more. His touch was like a drug, addictive and impossible to resist. He broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look at me, his eyes burning with desire. "You are so sexy," he breathed, his fingers still kneading my breast. "I could spend hours just touching you like this."

The words sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn't believe how good it felt to be wanted like this. His fingers continued their dance, teasing my nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through my body. I reached up, tangling my fingers in his hair, urging him closer. "Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of our breathing. "Don't stop."

He smiled down at me, his eyes darkening. "I won't," he promised, before lowering his head again, capturing one of my nipples in his mouth. He suckled hard, and I cried out, arching my back further. His other hand moved lower, slipping between my legs, parting the folds of my wetness. His fingers brushed against my clitoris, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. "You're so wet," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I can't wait to do this again"

His fingers began to move in a rhythm that mirrored his lips on my nipple, and I felt my body tighten in response. His other hand left my breast, moving up to cup my face, his thumb stroking over my lips. "I want to taste you," he whispered, his voice rough with need. "I want to feel you on my tongue."

He released my nipple, and I felt the loss acutely, but his touch on my clit only intensified, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. He leaned down, his lips finding mine, his tongue dancing with mine, and I could feel his erection pressing against my leg. I moaned into the kiss, arching into him, wanting more. His fingers never stopped moving, his touch growing more urgent as he neared the brink.

With a groan, he pulled away from the kiss, his breath hot against my ear. "I can't wait anymore," he whispered, his voice strained. He positioned himself between my legs, and I felt the head of his erection at my entrance. "Are you ready for me?" he asked, his voice barely audible above the pulsing need that filled the air between us.

I nodded, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he began to push inside, inch by agonizing inch. His skin was hot and smooth against mine, and I felt every inch of him as he filled me. He paused, letting us both adjust to the new sensation, and then began to move, thrusting slowly at first and then with growing urgency. His hips slapped against mine in rhythm with his thrusts, and I could feel him deep inside me, so close to where I needed him to be.

His hands moved to my hips, steadying himself as he pumped harder, faster. The couch creaked beneath us, the springs protesting at the force of our movements. My breath came in ragged gasps, and I could feel my body tense in anticipation, the familiar tightening in my core. "Closer," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "Oh, God, I'm so close."

His answering groan vibrated against my neck, his hips thrusting deeper still. "Me too," he gritted out. "I'm going to lose control." His fingers dug into my flesh, and I arched my back, meeting his thrusts with my own, needing the release that was building within me.

The pressure built, and I felt the familiar tightening in my core. My hips bucked upwards, seeking the friction I needed, and he responded with a groan, thrusting harder. His hands left my hips, moving up to grasp my shoulders, his fingers digging into my flesh as he held on tight.

I arched my back, lifting myself to meet his thrusts, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The sensation was exquisite, overwhelming, and I knew it was only a matter of moments before I lost control. His movements became more urgent, his breath hot and ragged against my neck, his body tense with the effort of holding back.

And then, with a groan that seemed to come from deep within him, he pushed deeper, harder, faster, and I felt the release building, rising like a wave within me. I couldn't hold back anymore, and as he thrust one final time, I cried out, my body shuddering with the force of my orgasm.

Hot liquid sprayed across his stomach, his chest, his hands, as I squirted for what felt like an eternity. He followed suit, his body tense as he arched into me, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he emptied himself deep inside me.

Our bodies slid together, slick with sweat and my own juices, as we both tried to catch our breath. He collapsed onto me, his weight pressing me into the couch, and I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close. For a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us, our hearts racing and our bodies still joined in the most intimate of unions.

Finally, his breathing slowed and his weight eased, but he didn't move to pull out. Instead, he rolled us over, still inside me, so that I was sprawled across him, legs dangling over the sides of his hips. "Ride"

I let my head fall back against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin against my own, as I began to move my hips, slowly at first, and then with growing urgency. His erection fit me perfectly, filling me with each thrust, and I felt the familiar tugging deep inside as my body began to respond once more to his touch.

As I moved, my breasts brushed against his chest, the rough texture of his skin sending delicious shivers down my spine. His hands slid up my back, cupping them around my shoulders, holding me close as he watched me, his gaze intense.

I could feel my orgasm building again, the pressure growing in my core, the sensation of being so full of him overwhelming me in the best possible way. With a moan, I arched my back, my hips moving faster, my body responding to the delicious friction he created.

His hands slid down my back, cupping my ass, and his thrusts became deeper, harder, more urgent. He growled into my neck, his hips meeting mine with each powerful stroke. The couch beneath us creaked, the springs straining as we moved together, our bodies slick with sweat and the evidence of our passion.

As I neared the brink again, my muscles tensed, my breath coming in ragged gasps, I could feel my inner walls contracting around him, milking him, wanting more. And then, with a cry that was part pain, part pleasure, I came again, my body shuddering with the force of the release. Another jet of my essence sprayed across his chest, his stomach, his hands. It looked…clear? what the fuck did I just do? I wondered.

"hey baby? what's this white stuff? it looks transparent" i asked.

"I think you just squirted?" he replied, his voice slightly unsteady.

I blushed, mortified. I didn't even know that was possible. "I… I did?" I asked, still trying to catch my breath.

He laughed, the sound warm and deep. "Yes, you did.." He ran his fingers through my hair, tracing patterns on my skin. "Don't be embarrassed. It's natural." He leaned in, kissing my forehead. "Besides, it just means I made you feel amazing." His words made me blush even deeper, and I could feel the heat spreading across my chest, down to my core.

a/n: requests are open! keep sending them in! love you all

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel x you #itsmealaiah #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz fanfic #kaulitz twins #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x reader smut #bill kaulitz x you

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ghouljams · 11 months

Note

NO BECAUSE imagine cowboy!könig listening to darling after a long day of working and he gets worried because she sounds so breathless and whiney and then bro just realizes she's touching herself

i'll see myself out bye

Oh you are absolutely fueling the stalker cowboy thoughts I have in my head. The bug is technically in the living room but Darling lives alone, so the whole house is really free reign for her.

It's become a sort of daily ritual. König gets in from tending to the horses, showers, and switches on the receiver as he fixes dinner for himself. Usually you're making food around that time too, the sound of your absent-minded singing filtering through the static and filling his kitchen with life. Sometimes you talk to yourself, bitch about your day, praise yourself on jobs well done, remind yourself of things you need from the store, day-to-day minutiae that you must think no one would care about. König cares. Every little detail is stored for future reference and use. How else is he supposed to drop by with just what you need right when you need it?

You're very quiet tonight. He turns the volume up with a frown, did you go out? That would be good, you need more friends. König goes to the kitchen window to check the pasture. No sign of Honey, so you haven't gone chasing after her. Maybe he'll just go over and check on you. The soft whine through the receiver stops him from reaching for his bandana.

Concern hits him first, moving to turn the volume up more. Did you hurt yourself? Were you alright?

Another breathless sound, high and tight, and Needy. Not a whine, a whimper, "Fuck, mm." He recognizes the slick sound under your whimpering. Maybe not from you, but… his fingers itch the dial up higher, leaning over the table to listen. Your moan echoes through the kitchen and König's grip on the table scratches hard enough to splinter the wood.

Naughty, Needy little thing. He could almost see you on your couch touching yourself. Your fingers dipping into your soaked cunt, dragging that wetness to ease the slide as you circled your clit. Fuck. You whine and he sits heavy on his kitchen chair, fingers working to undo his belt and pull his rapidly hardening cock out.

His cock is barely free before his hand wraps around it, grip punishing as he strokes the length of it. The wet sound of your dripping cunt fills the room. He wonders: are you fucking yourself on your fingers, or do you have a toy? The way you whine, whatever it is seems to be doing the trick.

König rubs his thumb against the head of his cock, God if you only knew how it was drooling for you. Would you whine on your knees for him? Stare up at him with those big doe eyes and whimper like you are in your living room? Fucking yourself where anyone could hear you like a little slut. If he walked over there now would he have time to catch you? Would he even be able to control himself when he saw you?

"Please, please, König, fuck," you gasp and König groans. You are just perfect for him, aren't you? Already know who you belong to. Are you imagining his fingers, his cock? Do you want to cum, is that why you're begging him so prettily?

"Not yet, Schatz," he mumbles, imagining the drag of his calloused fingers might be your slick cunt. You whine in response, suppressing a moan that should be his. He's so close. Heat coils tight in his stomach, the stroke of his hand slick with pre-cum as he listens to the delicious whimpering coming over the receiver. He wants to hear you cum, wants to pretend its from riding his cock and not whatever puny thing you’re fucking yourself with. God he wants to break you, and you’ll beg him to.

You already are, your pleas chant like a prayer, his name falling from your lips like water as you moan. That’s all he needs, feeling his balls pull up tight as he cums into his fist with a low groan. He can hear your heavy breaths in tandem with his own as he leans back against the chair. Fuck. God, you don’t know what you do to him, but you will. You will.

#absolutely inspired by this at fucking midnight last night when i was possessed #the bug is really paying for itself good call on that King #cowboy!König #könig x you #könig modern warfare #könig cod #colonel könig #konig x reader #könig x y/n #reader x König #love writing this boy he's insane

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thecuriousquest · 9 months

Note

Oooh! I just loved your recent platonic yandere katsuki work! Would you consider making a sort of part 2? To how they'd be treated there after and what would happen when they have to return? Thank you!❤️

Have no Fear, Nii-Chan’s Here Part Two

Tag List: @issamomma

Part One here.

Warnings: Yandere themes, SFW, platonic Yandere big brother, mentions of punishment spanking, over protective big brother Katsuki, possessive/controlling tendencies

Checkout my Master List here.

—————————————————————————

Bakugou adores you in his own way. He’s gruff and rough around the edges, but there is a spot for you in his heart. You’ve spent almost a year with him now, and ever since you gave in that day at the pool and started calling him “Nii-chan”, things have been a lot easier between the two of you.

He watches over you and protects you from bad things or bad people. You have learned to live with this aspect of your host. Keeping the peace is what’s most important to you because you don’t want to relive the pool incident again. Never again.

You still rub your knee when you get in trouble with your Nii-chan. For the majority, you’re very well-behaved, but you’re still a growing teenager. You can’t be perfect 100 percent of the time. Katsuki always begins with a lecture. How you respond depends on if he needs to up your punishment. Usually, you’re in tears well before he finishes screaming your ear off. Only on the rare occasions of your defiance does he feel the need to take things a step further and secure your obedience. This is usually done with a very early bedtime or a spanking. Nii-chan has only had to spank you twice because his hand is so powerful in making you submit to his will.

Big Brother Katsuki is a major part of your life now, but with only one week left of your stay at the Bakugou household, you find him in a rather irritated and solemn mood. His hugs are longer as if he can’t stand letting you go.

“I’m gonna FaceTime you, and you better answer if you know what’s good for you.” The threat is a mask, but you can still hear the hurt behind the warning.

“Yes, Nii-chan.”

You don’t plan on answering. What will he do all the way in Japan?

———

You’re so happy to be home in America that you cry with relief in your mother’s arms.

“I missed you too, honey, but there’s no need to cry,” she says as she strokes your hair. “Come on, I made you some lunch. Your father’s on his way home from work. He got off early to come see you.”

———

It’s precisely nine o’clock at night on the east coast when your phone starts ringing. You know instantly who it is as dread fills the pit of your stomach. Reaching over to pick up your phone, you shake your head and decline.

What could Katsuki do? You can’t let him control you anymore.

You set your phone down and go back to reading your book, getting lost in the fantasy plot.

As you keep ignoring his texts and calls, Katsuki grows angrier. How dare you ignore your Nii-chan after everything he’s done for you?! No, this simply won’t do. He can’t have you thinking you can just ignore him. If he has to raise hell in order to get back to his little sister, then he’ll fucking burn the world to ashes.

———

With school about to start, you feel like things are beginning to become normal again. That is until there’s an unexpected knock at the door. Your mother opens it and yells for you in a happy tone for you to come to her.

The blood colored orbs greet you to your horror. You look at your mother with worry.

“What’s going on?” you finally manage to ask.

“Katsuki wanted me to keep it a surprise, but he missed you so much that he wanted to be a part of the foreign exchange student program as well. I didn’t know that there was an extended version of the program, so he’s going to be staying with us for the next three years. Isn’t that great?!”

All you can do is nod. Your mother thinks you’re about to start crying because you missed the ash blonde so much, but she couldn’t be any more wrong.

“Why don’t you go and show your…oh, what was it that she always called you, Katsuki? Nii-cho?”

“Nii-chan,” he answers her while keeping his eyes glued on you.

“Right, sorry, dear. Y/N, go show your Nii-chan the guest room that he’ll be staying in.”

You nod and go up the stairs first, leading him to the right and down the hall until you hit the end of it. Opening the door, you reveal a nice bedroom that Katsuki will be staying in. He puts his bags down and turns to you.

Pulling you into a strong hug, you stifle a whimper as you wrap your arms around him so as not to anger him.

“You never answered one of my calls or texts,” he reprimands.

“I know,” is all you have to say.

“You know I’ll have to punish you for that, right?”

And just like before, your knee begins to throb as if the old wound is still there and Katsuki is pressing down on it.

Finally, the pent up whimper emerges from your lips, and your tears coating your lashes cascade down your cheeks.

“Yes, Nii-chan…”

The truth of your situation finally crashes down on you. No matter where you go, no matter how much you try to ignore him, no matter how far you try to run, your Nii-chan is inescapable.

#boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugo my hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #mha katsuki bakugou #platonic yandere #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere katsuki #yandere katsuki x reader #yandere big brother #bnha yandere #yandere brother #yandere #triggering content #yandere x you #yandere x reader #triggering themes #yandere x y/n

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ystrike1 · 6 months

Text

Well, Shall I Murder Instead of You? - By KURANDO Yukiaki (9/10)

If you've been bullied before you wanted to be saved. It's natural. It's normal, but what happens when a normal person is subjected to the will of abnormal people? Sometimes, they don't become cruel in return. Sometimes, they get used to seeing blood.

It becomes the new normal.

Yūma is an unremarkable boy, with low grades. He attends a bottom of the barrel school. The teachers hate their jobs. Their lives. They do nothing to save him when he is horrifically bullied.

He's a talented writer who wants to host his own radio show someday. Some of his work has been published. He's good. He could be great. He doesn't dream of revenge. He has very normal dreams.

He just wants high school to be over.

He's a sweet guy.

This is Ameri. He used to be called Amelie, which is a girl's name. I'm sure that'll be relevant later. He is obsessed with Yūma utterly. Everything he says is planned.

He is the perfect best friend.

He saves Yūma.

He has the same niche interests as Yūma.

He lives alone in the mountains.

His parents are nowhere to be found.

Yūma goes blind from happiness. He doesn't care when the main bully vanishes. He was a big guy. From a rich family. Forced to attend a garbage school because of his laziness.

Ameri decides to torture them all.

Every bully.

But that's not the end.

He's still alive.

Ameri brings Yūma down to the basement.

The bully, Nishi, is almost certainly a sociopath. He put Yūma through all kinds of torture. He actually tried to stab Ameri. Ameri defended himself. Ameri doesn't want to go to jail just because some sadist chose to pick on him, and his best friend Yūma!

He's kind of in the right, and that's what makes him so wrong.

He encourages Yūma to kill on purpose. He knows Yūma won't do it. He wants Yūma to be indebted to him.

That's all.

What if the fun part was all a lie? Does Ameri really want to be a radio broadcaster too? Did he really show up acting like a hero coincidently? Right when Yūma needed to be saved?

No.

It was all planned. Ameri admits it, but the denial in Yūma is powerful.

He doesn't want to go to jail.

Yokota is a fellow student, who is also being bullied. She wants Ameri to save her too. She also wants to cry on Yūma's shoulder, and enjoy his natural kindness.

Ameri won't allow it.

He's only interested in saving his favorite.

Yūma had another hero before. A girl named Mao. She tried to protect him when they were little. They go to different schools. She's older, but she still cares for him.

Nishi escapes from the basement, and he kidnaps her.

Yūma realizes there will be no end.

Nishi will never give up. Cruelty is all he has in life. Now he has the audacity to want revenge. After all he did to Yūma. After literally stabbing Ameri. All he wants is more blood.

Yūma heroically tries to save Mao, but in the end he must rely on Ameri.

He's a normal boy, after all.

Mao notices something wrong.

She used to protect Yūma.

She thinks she remembers seeing someone watching Yūma.

Someone who looks like Ameri.

Someone with the same eyes.

She flees, because she's a normal girl.

Yokata returns to blackmail Ameri with pictures of his crimes.

He agrees to get rid of her bullies.

But.

He punishes her by making her an accomplice.

His only real interest is staying with Yūma forever.

Why?

We don't know yet.

#Well #Shall I Murder Instead of You?#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #yaoi

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bonefall · 6 months

Note

May i ask why do you think that Brambleclaw wasn't a good father? not saying i disagree if that is what you think, but why do you? just wondering because i like what you say

Again I hope to have time sometime soon to make a big thing like I did with Breeze, but what gets me about Bramble is that incredibly self-concerned. Like, regularly unable to see past his own feelings to the point where he can't consider his effect on other people.

And Po3 in particular is ALSO trying to frame him like the perfect, most amazing dad in the world. It's for the dramatic irony of the reveal, and to make it EXTRA sad that he's going to abandon his children when he finds out they're adopted... but in the process, they just ignore anything crummy he does. Like he can Do No Wrong.

Particular instances I plan to get into;

When he's angry or disappointed, he's NASTY. He isn't this "super supportive papa" that the Three keep saying he is; he's most supportive when they're making him proud.

He fails to notice that Lionpaw's behavior is getting increasingly violent as a result of his mentor physically abusing him. Is that "Great Dad" material? To not notice your son is struggling?

We eventually learn that Ashfur approached him after one of these savage beatings to butter up to Brambleclaw, insisting that this sort of physical abuse is neccesary because it will give him a strong son.

Stress that again; Ashfur appealed to Brambleclaw's ego so he could keep beating his teenage child. In what world is that "Great Dad" material??

When Hollypaw then tries to tell her dad about how uncomfortable seeing her brother being savaged made her, Bramble tells her... ohh she's So smart, and So so responsible, and he relies on her to keep her brothers in line, and what Ashfur is doing is neccesary.

In any other book series, this would have been a MASSIVE condemnation of Brambleclaw. To be manipulated into allowing his son to get beat, and then turning around to tell his daughter he trusts her to understand it because she's so mature.

But because the Erins like Bramble so very much, it's not acknowledged. Then Ashfur tries to murder these kids later.

And like... again, they want him to be seen as so wonderful and amazing so that it's extra painful when he disowns these kids, but AGAIN, Brambleclaw is supposed to be this incredibly loving, unconditionally loyal, amazingly responsible father...

So how exactly is THAT consistent with abandoning his kids during the most upsetting time of their lives?

Does a wonderful father get consumed by his own pain and humiliation and cut off his kids, one of whom is in the middle of a breakdown? Does he take out his divorce on the children? Is being a "wonderful father" seeing the son you let get abused looking at you, DESPERATELY missing you as his dad, and just turning away?

Or, maybe, being a parent is about being mature. Putting aside your own personal anger or pain or ego to be there for your kids. Something like that???

And yet, he continues to act like that for an entire year. Not improving or self-reflecting at ALL the entire time. When it's miraculously revealed that Hollyleaf isn't DEAD, he's STILL wallowing. The kid he raised came back from the dead but FUCK that, who cares, "what about MY feelings?? Why is no one thinking about whats really important. Meeee."

(Mind you, he was willing to help this same person get away with murder in the last arc. But back then, she was his daughter. Now he doesn't care.)

Eventually SQUIRRELFLIGHT has to tell him that he shouldn't throw away his entire family because he's mad at her. Someone ELSE had to shout it down his thick skull that his bitterness is consuming him and he's ruining his life. Even after a year of punishment, she holds his hand like a big baby and guides him away from his OWN destructive behaviors.

But this isn't about Squilf. This is about Brambleclaw.

He enabled his son's child abuse. The abuser went on to attempt murder of his victim. He IMMEDIATELY turned on the kids he raised when he found out they were secretly adopted, because he was angry at his ex-wife. He only changed because the EX-WIFE told him to cut it out.

That's why I think he's not a great dad. I think talk of his Greatly Dadness are narration wank, and when you look closer, you see a FASCINATINGLY flawed character that the Erins hold back out of WEIRD writer favoritism.

#Warrior cats analysis #And again this is FASCINATING #I want to dissect him #He is my eternal rival. My white whale #My detested comrade with whom I am dying in the trenches #I wake up from cryosleep 100000 years in the future and the computer simulation picks the one man i hate the most in the world #Because through my seething fixation. He is somehow the only one who can keep me sane #As we float through the cold and uncaring vacuum of space.

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wardenparker · 7 months

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Vampire Waltz - ch 7

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: 13.4k 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.* Reader being self-conscious as usual. Some conversation about blood/vampire eating habits. But mostly this is just unabashed fluff and flirting. Summary: Allison helps you get ready for your first date with Max, and as scared as you are, you are equally excited for the night ahead. Notes: For our chapter banner this week: the White Horse Tavern! A real and very lovely place in Newport, RI. May or may not actually be owned by vampires, though...I'll have to get back to y'all on that...

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

It’s cute, utterly charming really, the way that you are currently freaking out in your bedroom. Max isn’t trying to eavesdrop, but you are being so loud that he can’t help but listen. Especially at first, when he wanted to make sure that you weren’t hurt. After the initial scream, he realizes you were panicking about the date he had formally asked you on. Deciding that visiting the dance studios deserved a little bit of flair. He had asked you if he could take you to dinner beforehand. You’re his soulmate, you deserve effort. Something that you’ve obviously received precious little from by the previous asshole in your life. For once, Max wants to make sure that you completely forget about that douchebag. Never jealous of anyone’s previous lovers, he wants to make you realize that you were just having a bad dream for the past ten plus years. Now you are awake, now you can enjoy yourself.

"Alli, you can't be serious?" Nearly clutching the dress that she brought over for you to borrow in two shaky hands, you look over the skimpy black number with trepidation. This is your fault. You know that. You're the one who went to the cheese shop at the end of her shift this afternoon to get some advice. She had sent you home to pull out your most comfortable pair of dancing shoes and swore to provide the perfect dress if you just promised to trust her. And you do trust her. She has never given you any reason not to. But this dress is short.

“Come on, it’s perfect!” She’s grinning from ear to ear, ecstatic for you and your date. It makes perfect sense now why Max had been hovering around you as a bat. You’re his soulmate. It’s so romantic, she wants to cry. “You’ll look amazing and Max will be panting to get under it!”

“It’s just the first date,” You remind her, nervous at even the mention of any kind of intimacy. Not because you don’t want Max — but maybe instead because you do and you haven’t felt that in so many years.

“The first date with your soulmate.” She reminds you with a smirk. “He’s supposed to be your perfect match, so it’s okay to put out on the first date.” She teases.

“He’s also my housemate, so if I do and that’s all he wanted from me it’s going to be awkward as hell.” It’s not that you think that of Max. It’s that the voice of doubt in your head is still loud and clear over everything else. “I’m just... I’m nervous.”

“Do you honestly think he would have joined a coven of witches at a Mabon celebration if all he wanted was the good-good?” She asks, arching a brow curiously.

“Well…no.” You snort, shaking your head at Allison. “And if you ever call it that again I won’t tell you if it actually happens.”

Laughing, Allison waggles her brows. The term was meant to disarm you and it worked. “Fine.” She huffs. “But I want details. Vampires are supposed to be incredible lovers.”

“You could always find out for yourself.” Aware of what Max had mentioned about their superior hearing, and unsure if Eddie is at home at the moment, you lower your voice measurably. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Eddie lately.”

"What?" Her lip immediately goes between her teeth and she blushes furiously. "We are just — you know — uh, collaborating for the masquerade."

“Mmhmm.” Drawing out the sound incredulously, you grin again and eye the dress in her hands. “Tell me everything and I will try the dress on. Just to see.”

"He's nice." She hands you the dress in exchange for information. "I like talking to him. He's — well, he's just so...human."

“He is very nice.” The short dress has a beautiful, flowy skirt that will be great for dancing and you disappear into your dressing room with it with trepidation. “And he likes you! It’s even obvious to me and my observation skills suck.”

"Please...." She rolls her eyes, even if you can't see her. "I think he's just being nice because he wants to join the coven."

“If that was the case, he’d be making nice with everyone, not meeting you in town to take you out for coffee.” Having found out that that was where Eddie was on the night that you and Max had been left to eat dinner together, you found that there was no possible way to be upset about it. Things with Max are…they’re moving forward in a way that makes you nervous and giddy. And whatever is growing between Eddie and Allison is obviously mutual.

She huffs and bites her lip again. "We have a lot in common and I enjoy talking with him. Even though he's been in college forever, he's still enthusiastic about learning. He's even talking about coming out to the farm."

“That sounds like fun!” Finding the zipper on Allison’s strappy black dress takes a second, but you’re able to exchange the one you’ve been wearing all day today for the one she brought for you to borrow. The deep v-neckline and cutouts in the back are more skin than you’ve shown in years but you know instinctively that it’s the kind of thing Max will love. Fashionable and daring. The kind of girl he deserves even if it’s not the kind of girl you feel like. “Okay…um…I’m coming out.”

Allison gasps as you emerge from your dressing room, nodding immediately. "It's perfect, you can't convince me otherwise. Look at yourself!" She squeals as she guides you towards a mirror.

"Kind of weird that we're the exact same size..." Even standing directly in front of the mirror you can't bring yourself to look up. To look at yourself in any kind of positive way whatsoever. It's like it's been beaten out of you as if you were a stray dog. "It fits well."

"I'd be lucky if I still fit in it." She huffs. "Too much cheese. But you, you've got such a perfect figure to pull this off."

"No such thing as 'too much cheese'," you gripe, shuffling slightly in front of the full—length mirror. You're just staring at your shoes and fighting with yourself to figure out if you're brave enough to look up. "Do you...think he'll like it?" If he does, it doesn't matter what you think anyway. Max's opinion is the only one that matters.

"I think he will love it." She assures you, reaching up and touching your shoulders. "It will restart his non-beating heart."

"Apparently only one thing can actually do that." Digging into your armoire for a sweater, you come out with one that is midnight blue and black with little gold stars stitched all over it. It's still cold out, after all, and this will help you to feel a little less exposed.

"What is that?" She's always been interested in the dynamics of vampirism but she's too polite to ask Eddie to answer her questions.

"Apparently..." Clearing your throat slightly and pulling your sweater tight around your shoulders, you glance up and meet Allison's eyes in the mirror. "A kiss from their soulmate."

"Ohhhh now that's the most romantic thing that I've ever heard." She moans, softening visibility and looking amost wistful at the thought. "Come on, Dolly, that's just so romantic."

"I told Max that it sounded like something out of a romance novel." Which is a sentiment that you stand by very firmly. "Who knows how true it is. But it's sweet to imagine."

"Maybe you will find out tonight." She offers with a sincere smile, not wanting to tease you. "I really think he likes you, Dolly. All that time as a bat, visiting you? Being near you. He was drawn to you."

"I still can't believe that was him." She knows all about those nighttime visits of course. You hadn't thought it was a big deal to tell her about the little bat that visited you, but now you see that it was all so much more important than you realized. And she had known the entire time, but never made you feel silly for not guessing. How could you?

"It's sweet." She hums, smiling again. "I want to see him again like a bat. It was so cute to see him on your shoulder, cuddling into your neck."

“He said he didn’t mind transforming again sometimes if I wanted him to.” Suddenly you feel like you should be busy again, and you move to your jewelry box out of nerves. “He knows that I found it…comfortable. But we might get a pet for the house.”

"Okay, so Max would change into a bat to comfort you, and you still wonder if he likes you?" After spending time with you, she's learned of your ex and she understands your trepidation. "I don't think you should."

“I just…” You sigh, feeling your shoulders start to curl, and you take two long breaths in and out to prevent it. “I hope I’m more than a novelty to him, that’s all. His life is so long. It’s forever and I’m not saying he has to propose or anything crazy. I just…I would like to think a person should feel important to their soulmate. I haven’t been important to anybody since my parents died.”

"You know how long Cookie lived." Allison reminds you. "You could do the same. She—" She pauses for a moment. "Her decision to no longer prolong her life was a very serious one. But until she stopped taking her soulmate's blood, she looked no older than forty."

“Why did she stop?” That has never truly made sense to you. If someone was happy with their eternal life, why on earth would they give it up?

She sighs softly. "It— a very power spell was cast. Meant to last through time until death." She explains quietly. "It was the only way to break it and it was important enough to her to break it."

“What sort of a witch would cast something that depends on life or death?” The idea strikes you as positively cruel, but of course you can’t know what the spell was or the circumstances.

"One that knew that her soulmate could provide her with immortality." Allison explains. "It was...done in anger. Hopefully regretted, but nothing I could find could break it. Cookie spent years trying to break it."

“That’s awful.” As angry as you had ever been in your life at certain people or certain circumstances, you can’t ever imagine that type of anger. Not to mention you’ve never done much spell work beyond lighting a candle or floating an object across a room. And you’re woefully out of practice at even those.

"It was...complicated." Allison hums, "from what I've heard. I never got to meet the person." She knows more of the story, Cookie confided in her in an effort to find a way to break the spell, but she wouldn't betray the woman's confidence, even in death. Especially when it was his place to explain.

“I hope that everything worked out the way she wanted it to, then. Even if she isn’t here to see it.” Concentrating on your jewelry box is the best you can do and not get upset for no reason — but something about the whole situation just makes you overwhelmingly sad.

Allison bites her lip but just makes a non-committal sound. “So where is Max taking you for dinner?” Wanting to change the subject, but also genuinely curious as to your first date details.

“He said there was a vampire-owned restaurant on the island that was really nice.” When you had insisted that dinner wasn’t necessary because he didn’t need to eat food, he had come back with the alternative of a restaurant that also discreetly served blood to discerning patrons. That had been enough to make you agree. “It’s…a tavern? The White Horse Tavern?”

She’s impressed. Whistling lowly, she nods. “It’s only the oldest tavern in the country.” She tells you with a grin. “Super swanky, so it sounds like Max is wanting to do things right. Dinner, dancing….” She sighs. “Sounds incredibly romantic for a first date.”

“He really…he doesn’t have to make a big deal out of it.” And you had told Max that, but he had only shaken his head and told you the restaurant would be perfect. “It’s very romantic, but I guess I’m just…a little worried I won’t live up to it. And I would hate to disappoint him.”

“Why would you disappoint him?” She asks. “He knows you. This isn’t a blind date.”

The irony of that observation makes you laugh dryly, and you turn to look at her instead of searching for earrings. "It was supposed to be," you tell her honestly. "We were supposed to go on a blind date. In college."

“Really?” Her eyes widen. “What happened? Why didn’t you go? You mean you could have known Max this entire time?”

“He had an emergency that night. He couldn’t come.” There is such an ache in your heart realizing that — if things had been different — he could have graduated as a human and you could have been together for ten years already. “Everything could have been so different.”

“Do you—” she pauses for a moment. “Do you resent him for that? Because of being with your ex?”

“No.” Surprisingly enough, that answer is easy. It isn’t Max’s fault that Derek was in that bar that night. He had his life turned upside down in a completely different way. “I just wonder what the second chance will be like.”

“While Max can be cocky, he’s also more mature than he would have been ten years ago.” Allison tells you. “So I think it will be very good for both of you.”

"I hope so." That hope is a long buried feeling for you, and while you feel silly for admitting it...Allison has never been anything but welcoming, friendly, and supportive with you. She's the friend you had dearly missed having for all these years. "I'm different than I used to be, too. I just hope we're not too different."

“Eddie told me that Max, uh, he had a second chance.” Allison admits. “That he lost all his scars? So if you had changed too much, wouldn’t your birthmark never reappear?”

Startled by the solid logic of that thought, you almost reel backward, standing up a little straighter in surprise. "I guess...I never thought of it like that."

She smiles, happy that she could reassure you in some small way. “Then remember that the universe chose you as his soulmate, twice.”

"What about your soulmate?" She's never talked about it before but you feel like this is the time to ask if there is ever going to be one.

“I don’t think I have one.” She admits quietly. “I’ve never had scars, birthmarks or anything.” She shrugs. “Some people don’t.”

"Maybe your soulmate just didn't want to mark you up because they already know you're perfect just as you are." Of course, Allison is right. Some people just don't have soulmates. But that kind of loneliness is not something you would ever wish on anyone as kind as she is.

“Who knows?” She’s very doubtful of that, but it’s sweet that you would want to comfort her. “It just means that I get to enjoy everyone else finding their soulmates.”

“And you can make your own decision for your life. Whatever that decision turns out to be.” There is a matching set of jewelry in your box — a necklace and earrings that all bear golden crescent moon pendants with a little blue stone hanging like a star inside it — and you pick those out to wear tonight. “My parents weren’t soulmates, you know. They just loved each other. Fiercely and with everything they had. Just because someone isn’t your soulmate doesn’t mean they’re not going to be good for you.”

“They weren’t?” She asks curiously, tilting her head in shock.

“No.” The earrings slide into place easily and the matching necklace is a comfort, making you feel a little less exposed in the outfit you’re wearing. Makeup is the last touch. “They met at my mother’s work. She was a librarian and Dad was doing research for his doctoral thesis. She dropped a book that she was trying to get off a high shelf and he picked it up for her. That was that. They were inseparable for the rest of their lives.”

“That’s so sweet. They were both witches too?” She remembers you talking about being raised a witch, but didn’t want to assume.

“My dad was a Bishop on his mother’s side.” It was always a point of pride for him, to be descended from one of the Salem witches, and so it is for you as well. “Mom didn’t know her family, but she was a witch by her own devices, I guess.”

“Was she adopted?” She wonders, asking delicately.

“She never really talked about it.” Which had always struck you as strange, and then was downright inconvenient later in life. “She used to call Dad’s parents her adoptive family and stuff like that. We weren’t close to them, though. I guess they didn’t like that he moved away from Massachusetts, but they liked Mom well enough. They were everything I had and then…they were gone.”

“That’s so horrible. I’m so sorry. I know that it’s hard to lose a parent.” She murmurs softly. “Even worse to lose both at the same time.”

“That’s…kind of why this has been so nice,” you admit, turning to look at Allison again. “I know I didn’t know Cookie. And that we were only loosely related. But it’s kind of like getting my family back. Or as close to it as I’ll ever come, anyway.”

Allison reaches out and takes your hand. "I hope that you know that we will happily be your family. Found family is the ones that you love the most."

The sincerity of the moment cracks something tight in your chest, and before you know it you’re pulling Allison in and hugging her tightly, just willing yourself not to shed tears into her oversized sweater. “Thank you.” Two shattered words, but they are the best you can do at first. Until you manage a deep breath and huff out a half—laugh before pulling away again. “You’ve been so kind to me right from the start. All of you have. And I can’t possibly say how grateful I am. It’s…well, it’s been years since I’ve had a close friend and you’re just…you’re the sweetest woman in the whole world.”

"I felt that you had the kindest energy." She admits, "just that you were...lost. But now it seems that you have found yourself. You are finding yourself, who you are meant to be."

“Whoever that ends up being,” you squeeze her shoulder gently. “I owe her, at least in part, to you.”

"No." She shakes her head, smiling at you as if you were the most precious thing. "You have done this all on your own. You just let are letting her shine through."

“You’re the sweetest person in the whole world.” And she’s yet one more unexpected part of this whole wonderful situation, which you find yourself grateful for all over again. “You should go see if Eddie is home, honey. No sense in letting him sit at home alone while Max and I are out, right?”

She bites her lip again, a habit of hers when you mention Eddie. "I think I will." She decides with a small grin. "Wish me luck."

“Good luck.” Although you don’t think she’s going to need it. Not when it comes to Eddie.

"Do you want me to help you finish getting ready?" She offers, tilting her head playfully.

“It’s just my makeup left, and I can manage that.” The vintage purse you’ll be taking is already packed, and a moment alone to remind your reflection that this is a good thing, not something to be afraid of would probably be good. “Go and have your own fun night, honey. I want to hear all about it tomorrow.”

She turns to walk slowly to the door. Turning at the entryway and watching you as you admire or maybe critique your looks in the mirror. "You look amazing and I know tonight will be perfect." She predicts with a wink. "Let me know if you are still up for brunch tomorrow or if you need some recovery time."

“There will be nothing to recover from.” Still, you shoo her toward the door playfully and smile when she worries her bottom lip between her teeth again but makes her way straight across the second floor hall, through the shortcut to Eddie’s room.

******

Max checks his suit, feeling slightly guilty that you are so worked up. Maybe he should have eased you into this. Maybe something more low key was what you are interested in. The flowers he had bought are already sitting in a vase, at Mrs. Taylor’s insistence, and he wonders if he should even give them to you.

Sitting down at your vanity, the clock says five minutes until you promised Max you would be ready and you line up your makeup and brushes with practiced precision. Nothing can or will go wrong tonight, you have told yourself over and over all day long. It is far too important. But the moment you look up at your mirror, your eyes connect with the carnival photo booth snapshot of you and your mother from when you were twelve years old, and you breathe a soft sigh. “You’d like him,” you promise your mother out loud. “He’s sweet. And doesn’t like it when I get in my own way. Which is…it’s a relief.”

Max decides that he will bring you the flowers. Every woman deserves romance, especially from her soulmate. He gives you another minute before he’s knocking on the door, not wanting to rush you, there’s plenty of time built into the night.

The knock is a nice gesture, given that you both know what tonight is and he knows you’re inside. Still, you exhale slowly and open your bedroom door exactly the same as if it had been the front door of your house that he was picking you up at. The suit he picked out is immaculate, with a crisp, clean shirt and no tie to make it a little less formal. And you had meant to compliment him when you opened the door. You really had. But all the comes out is a soft “Wow…” instead.

He chuckles, charmed by your honest reaction. “Is that for me or the flowers?” He asks, holding them up for you to see properly.

“Can it be both?” You ask, embarrassed to admit that you hadn’t even noticed the flowers until he held them up.

“I’ll take that.” He flashes you a grin before he slowly peruses your dress with appraisal.

“If you don’t like it, I can change.” The offer is immediate, unable to read his expression and figure out whether or not he approves of your borrowed dress.

"Don't you dare." He insists, frowning at the mere idea of you changing. "You look...stunning. I don't know if I should change. Make myself more presentable."

“More presentable?” Huffing at him even as you step aside to let him into your room for a moment, you just shake your head. “That suit would make Frank Sinatra jealous. You couldn’t possibly look more presentable.”

“I don’t know, sweetheart, have you looked in the mirror tonight?” He asks as he sets the flowers down and turns to you to take your hands and holds them wide to get a better look. “You are breathtaking and that’s saying something, coming from a vampire.”

“Allison let me borrow it,” you admit, feeling your cheeks heat almost uncontrollably at the compliment. “She, um…she helped me get ready. Now she’s going to spend some time with Eddie while we’re out.” It makes you feel less guilty to know neither of them will be lonely. The idea that your happiness comes last has been pervasive for a long time, but you’re trying to be cognizant of it. To shake it.

“Well, she needs to help you spend some of that money buying flirty, fun dresses like this to wear.” He hums. “Because I can see having regular dinner and dancing dates with you.”

“I’ll have to tell her you approve. And the flowers are beautiful, by the way.” The burst of red, orange, and yellow that now sits on your nightstand is brilliant, and you pick up your purse from beside it. “Are you ready to go?”

“Whenever you are, Queenie.” His hand hovers for a split second before resting on your lower back. Guiding you towards the door of your rooms. The door that he had left open to make sure you were comfortable. Just because he lives here doesn’t mean he will impose.

Shutting the door behind you and heading for the stairs, you can hear the soft sound of laughter from Eddie's room. It sounds like they're going to have a wonderful night ahead of them and you note with interest that even though you don't feel any warmth from Max's hand on our back there is still a solid presence there beside you. "How was work today?" Instead of dwelling, you turn all of your attention to Max, wanting to hear anything and everything he has to tell you about his workday.

“It was pretty good, I have a new line on another business deal. Hopefully it will pan out. What did you do besides worry about tonight?” He asks curiously.

He does have a point. You went panicking to Allison, after all. But you smile at the question anyway. "Mrs. Taylor and I nailed down the menu for the masquerade this morning."

“Oh really?” His brow shoots up and he grins. “And what will we be feasting on during the masquerade?”

"The menus that she had mocked up were seven, ten, and twelve courses." As much as you had respected the dedication to the Gilded Age theme, it had seemed a little too much to you and eventually you and your vampiric housekeeper had whittled the ideas down to the best of four courses. "It will be potato leek soup, a fish course with asparagus and hollandaise, chicken...something or other...I think she said it's called Lyonnaise? With mashed potatoes as the main course, and then champagne and strawberry cake for dessert that she said was Cookie's favourite. It felt like a nice way to pay tribute to her." Of course there was discussion of vegetarian options being needed, but when tickets are bought people will have the chance to indicate that they don't eat meat and then that bridge will be crossed when necessary.

“And I am assuming that there is an assortment of finger foods that will be served between dances?” He asks, amused by the dedication.

"According to Mrs. Taylor, it should be several different kinds of drinks and a few sweets to choose from on a buffet table in the dining room." The immense amount of work had shocked you when Mrs. Taylor had laid the whole thing out, but she assured you that she and Renee had everything in hand with just a little extra help from Mr. Taylor and Mr. Finchley. "Then, of course, there's the breakfast for whoever is still left at sunrise."

“This is going to be an amazing night for Newport.” He predicts. “Like nothing they’ve seen for years. I bet they will be clamoring for it to become an annual event.”

"Hopefully it's not too much on Mrs. Taylor and Renee. They're both very excited but it sounds like a whole lot of work to me." At the bottom of the stairs, Max opens the door for you and ushers you through with a smile. "If it becomes something annual I'm going to insist on having extra help for her next year. I know they're both...superhuman, but they shouldn't have to overdo it."

“You know they don’t even break a sweat, right?” He asks as he moves his hand from your back to offer his arm to escort you down the steps.

"They can still only do one thing at a time. Four people cooking for that many guests is a tall order for anyone." He acts like it's the most natural thing in the world to escort you down the front steps and out the front door like a perfect gentleman. Meanwhile you are all but swooning at his side over just the simple act of having an arm offered to you.

“That woman loves to care for people.” He reminds you with a chuckle. “I would say she lives for it, but we both know that’s not true.”

"She exists for it?" You offer with a soft chuckle.

“That’s the way to put it.” Max chuckles and opens the front door to show that his car has been brought forward. Waiting for you.

So far all you've done is walk to his car together but already you feel like a princess. Maybe the bar is set a little too low, or maybe he's doing all the right things — you really can't tell. What you do know, as Max closes the passenger side door and rounds the hood of his car in less than the blink of an eye to get in beside you, is that this is definitely how you always dreamed of dates starting out.

Max buckles his seatbelt and looks over at you with a slight smile. “Are you ready, Queenie?” He asks softly. “If you want to go home at any time, you let me know.”

He's being so gentle with you that it's heartbreaking and heartwarming all at once. The idea that you need to be handled with such a soft touch is a little embarrassing, but the fact that he is being so caring without any kind of request or even indication on your part is just...well, it's just about the sweetest thing you've ever heard in your life. "I'm okay," you promise him, reaching out to put your hand softly over his on the gear shift. "I know you heard me being anxious earlier, but I've been looking forward to this since you asked." And more than that, you've been looking forward to a first date with your soulmate for your entire life.

“Good.” Max hums, turning his hand so you can slide your fingers through his if you want. “I want you to enjoy yourself. There’s no expectations for tonight. No pressure. I just want you to have a night that we should have had ten years ago.”

"Ten years ago it would have been chicken wings and a jukebox in a bar." Which isn't a bad thing, but it isn't what you dreamed of. What you've dreamed of is much closer to this: your fingers fitting neatly through his as he pulls away from the house on your way to a beautiful dinner and a night of dancing. "Let's call tonight the...grown up version."

“The grown up version.” Max hums as he pulls out onto the street. “Well, it’s a good thing then. I wouldn’t have known how to dance then.” He reminds you. “Now I can waltz with you properly.”

“To be honest I never assumed my soulmate would be a dancer.” It’s a perk, obviously. And one that you hold very dear after so many years without dance in your life. But never something you considered mandatory. “It’s like the icing on a cake I already know I like.”

“I think that it’s complementary.” He agrees. “It’s something that we can do together. And neither one of us has to pretend to like it.”

“What else do you like to do?” Other than his work, and having a few things in common like reading and dancing, it occurs to you that you don’t know much about him.

Max smirks. “I like to play poker.” He admits. “There’s this monthly game I’m in. High stakes, pretty much a two day event.”

“High risk, high reward.” Just like his sales deals, you note. He’s mentioned some of them being for upwards of a few million dollars. “I can’t say I’ve ever been great at cards but I do like to play sometimes.”

“Maybe we can play sometime?” He offers. “There’s some lower stakes games, just for fun.”

“I used to play poker for M&Ms with my Dad,” you admit, smiling at the memory. “Any game can be lower stakes if you let it.”

He chuckles, knowing that is true and refrains from offering to play strip poker. “What else did you do with your dad?”

“He liked to paint.” It’s been a long time since you’ve talked about your parents to anyone, but since coming to Newport your family and your past has seemed more relevant than ever. Almost like they had gone on a terribly long vacation instead of being violently ripped from you the summer before you started college. “He would take me to art museums and was the only Dad in my Mommy and Me Painting Class when I was little. We’d play card games and board games and plan all the trips around the world that we would take when I got older.” The last memory makes you shrug, eyes cast down at the floor of Max’s sports car. “We never got to take any of the trips we planned, but it was a fun way to pass a rainy day. It made me think for a while that I could be a travel agent when I grew up.”

“I’m sorry that you didn’t get to travel.” Max tells you quietly, wishing he had some memories like that with his parents. Maybe it would have made it easier when he was alone. But he doubts it. “You should travel.” He tells you. “Go all the places you planned with him. A remembrance trip once a year maybe.”

“I’m not very good at being alone.” Maybe it’s why you stayed with Derek so long. Maybe it isn’t. You can’t be too sure either way, but you know that being lonely is one of your least favourite feelings in the world. “But maybe I’ll try. If…there isn’t someone to come with me, I mean.”

“You don’t have to be alone, Queenie.” Max promises. “There’s your coven, I’m sure any one of them would love to go on a trip with you. Eddie loves to travel and of course, I will go wherever you wanted anytime.”

"You say 'of course' like it's the easiest thing in the world." Your fingers curl around his palm instinctively, afraid to let go of him now that you're allowed to be close in any small way. "But it...it means everything."

“You are my soulmate.” He stresses quietly. “Even if platonic soulmates was all you wanted, I would want to spend time with you.”

"It's not." He's pulled up to a stoplight on Bellevue, and even though your voice is quiet, it's sure. You're just not quite strong enough to look up at him while you say it. "It's...not at all what I want. I just need you to be patient with me. While I...I don't know...figure out how to not be so scared anymore."

“I have eternity.” He reminds you with a grin, wishing he could banish the sadness and fear in your eyes. “And you can have that too.”

"That's a very big offering considering it's only our first date." Trying for a little bit of humor — to lift your own spirits as well as his — you squeeze his hand again when the light turns and he pulls through the intersection. "Let's see how we feel about living in the same house and dancing together and maybe we'll talk about eternity after that. Sound good?"

He squeezes your hand gently. “That sounds like a good idea. Sometimes I get ahead of myself.” He winks before he looks back at the road.

******

It takes a whole six minutes to get from the front gate of Chateau-sur-Mer to the White Horse Tavern, according to the clock on the dashboard of Max's Lexus, and when he pulls into the parking lot the place seems to be completely full to the brim. There's no loud music or bright lights like you might have expected at some place called a tavern, but instead there are people in very smart clothes streaming in and out of the building alternately — and once you're inside there are white tablecloths and lovely candles on every table.

“Now you see why I thought of this place.” He murmurs in your ear, his hand on your back again. Not possessive, but protective. Guiding you up to the host stand. “Reservation for Phillips, table for two.” He responds slightly smug when asked for his name. He is smug about having you here, proud that this date is happening. Eager to learn more about his pretty soulmate.

"Right this way." The hostess smiles politely and leads the way, bringing the two of you to a table in the corner surrounded by other chattering couples on dates enjoying the warm glow of romantic candlelight.

As soon as you are seated, the sommelier comes over. “Good evening.” He smiles charmingly. “May I interest you in our vast selection of reds?” He asks, aware that this reservation includes a vampire who would be wanting a glass of their blood infused wine. Without even looking at you, Max shakes his head. “No thank you.” He hums. “My soulmate and I do not drink.” Even if you had said you are okay with it, Max is aware that anything resembling alcohol could stress you and that’s the last thing he wants tonight.

"Max." His hand is on the table and you put yours on top of it, giving it a squeeze like you did in the car. "It's okay. I promise." What he needs to sustain him and what you need are two vastly different things, and you are not going to be the reason that he skips having blood with this meal and ends up...weak or sick or whatever happens to vampires when they don't get enough blood.

He shakes his head seriously. “I was an asshole at the beginning about it.” He admits. “I didn’t know and there are are options here, just like Mrs. Taylor’s menus for us.”

“…very sweet of you.” Only the end of the sentence is really audible, mostly because you’re so dumbfounded by the idea that he is putting you before and above himself. In your whole life, maybe only your parents have ever done that for you.

The sommelier just gives a confused smile and nods, drifting away from the table. “I didn’t embarrass you, did I?” Max asks, frowning at the shock on your face. He had hoped you would appreciate his gesture, and he wasn’t doing it to show off, he genuinely wanted you to feel comfortable tonight with him.

“Not at all.” The slightly misty look on your face is from how touched you are at the gesture. “I just…you know I’m not used to anyone doing things for me. Emotionally, I mean. Or any other way. I still feel like apologizing every time Mrs. Taylor makes a meal or Renee makes clean clothes magically appear in my room. But you…” With a soft sigh and shake of your head, you offer him a smile. One where you actually manage to look him in the eyes. “I always thought I would be the one taking care of my soulmate with whatever he needed. But you’re the one taking care of me.”

He wants to chuckle, but he can’t. Now when your eyes practically hypnotize him. He’s never felt a pull like that and he shakes his head slowly. “We take care of each other.” He reminds you, “head scratches?”

“Are you asking or reminding?” Either way, the smile on your face gets broader and you can feel that growing familiar feeling of warmth in your cheeks.

“Reminding you.” He grins back at you and winks. “It’s probably the most relaxed I’ve ever gotten as a vampire.”

“Then we’ll have to make it a regular thing.” You can promise him that. The seemingly little promises mean so much when they all stack up together.

“That would be nice, but only if you enjoy it as well.” He knows that you might just agree to keep him happy and that’s the last thing he wants.

"Do I enjoy sitting with my soulmate's head in my lap, seeing him terribly relaxed while I read a book or we watch tv together?" This time when you laugh it's just one huffed chuckle, and it's in near disbelief. "Honestly? It might be the closest to bliss I've been in years."

He smiles at that, squeezing your hand again. “Good.” He hums, nodding towards your menu. “Take a look and see what you want to eat, Queenie, we have dancing later on.”

You don't even have to ask to know that he'll be ordering steak tonight, and as rare as possible. The habit makes perfect sense to you now and you'll never say another word about it. The menu is high-end gourmet and apparently all locally sourced from the list of farms on the bottom of the menu, and for a moment you feel tremendously out of place again until you glance up to find Max smiling at you. And that one little act, that seemingly coincidental timing and easy gesture, has another layer of anxiety and fear slipping away from your heart as easily as water drips down a window. "I've discovered I like duck," you confide after a few minutes of looking over the options. "I had never had it before, but Mrs. Taylor is a miracle worker. Do you think theirs will be as good as hers?"

“Doubtful.” He snorts, shaking his head. “Not unless Mrs. Taylor is moonlighting as the chef here.” He jokes. “She has been to practically every chef’s school in the world in her lifetime.”

“She should be teaching at them. Or opening one of her own.” You know, though, that she would never be as happy teaching as she is taking care of people. It’s a lovely thought, though.

“Never happen.” He promises. “Mrs. Taylor is vowed, willingly—” he adds because he knows you might think otherwise. “— to serve your family line for eternity.”

“She’ll be free to do whatever she wants soon enough, then,” you remind him gently. “We’re not exactly going to be populating that house with little half-vamps.”

“Except you can have an absurdly long life, even as a human.” He points out, sure you haven’t even thought about it.

“I—” Technically, he’s correct. You could have as long a life as Cookie did or even longer. But you can’t even fathom that he would want to spend months or years with you, let along decades or centuries. “That is…something we’ll talk about together. You and I.”

“Okay.” He won’t push, it’s just the first date, after all. Instead of continuing on the same vein, he looks around the tavern. “So, who do you think is a vampire?” He asks playfully.

“Hmmm.” A game is definitely something you can get behind, and you look around the crowded dining room full of well dressed patrons with the air of someone who knows exactly what they’re looking for instead of just being the clueless little human that you are. “I’m going to say…” your eyes fall on an impeccably well-dressed man in an elaborate suit and his pale dinner companion in her lace dress. “Those two. Aaand…the table of four over by the fireplace. I think the girl is introducing her new beau to her sires.”

Max lifts a brow, impressed by the fact that you have clock that correctly. “Good eyes.” He chuckles. “The two are, she’s a baby vamp, too.”

“It turns out that once I realized I was surrounded by vamps, it got easier to see the differences.” There is also a particular, peculiar way that they hold themselves — that all vampires seem to hold themselves. As if they have innumerable secrets. And the older they are, the more secrets they accumulate. Which, you suppose, must be true after a point.

“Really?” That makes him sit up slightly. “What differences?”

“I don’t know if I can describe it properly.” For a moment you pause, when the waiter arrives to bring you both water and ask if you’d like an appetizer. Max orders the specialty charcuterie board and you have to imagine that there are raw things involved for him as well as the regular cheeses and spreads for humans. “It’s like…your shoulders are always a little straighter. Your gaze is more direct. And there’s something…I dunno…elegant? Maybe? In the way you all move. Like it takes so much less effort or you’ve maximized the economy of all of those movements somehow. I can’t describe it properly.”

He smirks slightly and leans in. “We are elegant?” He asks, intrigued by the fact that you are not scared. Perhaps even enjoying that he is a vampire.

“Of course you are elegant, but I didn’t notice until after that you all sort of…have a certain grace.” Shrugging self-consciously, you do notice that he doesn’t let your hand slip away from his on the table. “It probably sounds funny,” you murmur in defeat.

“It doesn’t. It’s actually— I think it might be the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” He confesses. “People always say ‘you’re hot’ or ‘I want you’ but no one ever tells me I’m elegant.”

“You are hot.” The admission comes with screaming hot cheeks and eyes trained back down at the table, but it’s true. “I thought so the first time I saw you…”

There’s a hint of heat in his smirk, not nearly as play—boyish as it might have once been. “Glad you thought I was hot.” He hums proudly. “Sexual attraction is key to a healthy romantic relationship.”

“And you’ll always look that way.” It’s not a fun thought to have, but you’ve had it twice already. He will always be young and handsome, and you will inevitably get old — even if you choose long life it will still happen eventually.

He snorts. “We age just not as fast as humans do.” He admits.

“So slowly that it’s imperceptible?” It’s a guess, but you nod your head in understanding. “I’ll get everything down eventually, I promise. This is all still…just days’ old information to me.”

“I don’t expect you to be an expert, sweetheart.” Max tuts. “Hell, I’m still learning about vampires.” He flashes you a grin. “And I’ve been one a lot longer than days.”

"What do you like about it?" You ask, looking at your connected hands before you look back up at him. "There must be something you like about the change."

“Smell is better, hearing is better.” Max shrugs slightly. “I’m a better version of myself.” He snort slightly. “The no need for sleep helped when getting my MBA.”

“It certainly gives you more time to get things done.” Thinking on it for even a second though, you laugh a little. “If I had had that in college I think I would’ve done twice as many competitions and probably added a second major, just because I could.”

He chuckles and winks at you, “That’s my girl.” He hums fondly, not even thinking about it until it comes out of his mouth, but you are his girl.

Finding it fond instead of possessive — as the comment would have been from the last person who might have bothered to call you such a thing — hearing it from Max actually makes you proud. Maybe neither of you is perfect, but you seem to fit together in all the right ways. Maybe that's all that soulmates are, ultimately. Just two people — or in this case a witch and a vampire — who fit together just right.

The meal is ordered and it’s a delightful surprise that there’s no lull in the conversation. Beyond ballroom dancing, at your core, your values match up. At least, Max’s values now, after the incident with Evan. Shockingly enough, he tells you about it.

"I can't believe that's even possible." The ordeal with his former friend, roommate, and coworker aside, the way Max describes what was basically his return from complete obliteration is just wild. "It sounds like...like magic...if I'm honest. Your sire managed to bring you back from...nothing." From his description, he was less than a undead body at that point. Something terrifying to imagine and terrible to contemplate. The idea that your soulmate could have been completely lost to you isn't exactly knew considering you thought it was dead, but knowing the truth makes it feel even more terrible. "If I ever meet your sire, I'm going to have to thank him."

“I have no doubt you will.” Max wonders when the old man will reveal himself to you. What his end game is. He always had one, that’s certain. “I am starting to figure out why I was brought back.”

"You think he had an ulterior motive?" You would think it would be enough just to be able to save his family, but you don't really know how loyal vampiric families are to each other.

“Absolutely.” His answer is instantaneous. Resolute. While he doesn’t know the details of why he was brought back, he had been for one reason.

"You're very certain of that." Which does, you admit, surprise you. "I take it he's not a sharing kind of guy? He didn't clue you in on why?"

“My sire is…an enigma.” Max admits, almost fondly. He has often been envious of the elder vampire’s flair and mystique. “He is legendary among vampires and I’m not so certain he doesn’t divulge information because it is his nature or as a way to play into his reputation.”

"Maybe it's both?" The two of you are still sitting at the table with intertwined hands even after your demolished appetizer has been cleared away. It's so unexpectedly sweet that it makes you feel a little bit...gooey. Like you might melt right into your plush upholstered seat. "Maybe the reputation came because he has a little flair for the dramatic, and now he just likes to play into it and keep it going? You said he's quite old now, right? Maybe it amuses him."

“Yes. That is probably a lot of it.” He agrees. “You will like him I think.”

"Are you saying I have a flair for the dramatic?" Raising one eyebrow and shooting him a grin, you can't help but smile along with him. You did, once, have a wicked dramatic side. Inherited from your mother and dearly cherished. It was an endless source of amusement.

“You ballroom dance and you love reality tv shows.” He snorts playfully. “Of course you have a flair for the dramatic. I can’t wait to see you show out at the masquerade.”

"If you think I'm bad with Dancing with the Stars, wait until you see me on a 90 Day Fiancé binge." That really only happens when you hit your cycle, but it's still a sight to see — you tucked up in your bed under three blankets with a bowl of popcorn and a box of tissues crying about love is just...a side of you that you normally keep hidden. But somehow you have a feeling that Max would understand.

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite couple?” Max asks curiously. “I like Angela and Mike, but sometimes she’s toooo much, you know what I mean?” He spends a lot of nights binge watching things, since it’s not like he sleeps and unfortunately, not many human businessmen work after midnight.

The way you just stare at him is nearly comical, like your brain hasn’t quite caught up with you yet, and when it finally goes you realize your mouth has been open and you snap it shut like the little boy from Mary Poppins. “I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised,” you huff, laughing softly at your own reaction. “We should have things in comments. Soulmates and all that…”

“Babe, I’m also a little dramatic shit.” He confesses with a chuckle. “I mean, who really changes into a bat to spend time with someone because your over-the-top douchbaggery has made them uncomfortable, but you’re intrigued by them?” He asks, making it seem like he is the total asshole he believes he is.

“That’s…pretty true.” And it draws another laugh from you just imagining the thought process he went through to even think of doing it in the first place. “I have to admit, though. It made me feel like the missing goth Disney Princess and I kind of loved that.”

“I’m happy to make that secret fantasy come true.” He grins, nearly beaming proudly at the idea of sparking some inner desire. “And as a bat, I can actually sleep?”

“Compacting a big vampire into a tiny bat body must take a lot of effort.” Or, at least, you imagine it does. It’s more or less breaking the known laws of physics, after all.

“It does.” Max admits with a slight shrug. He will minimize the idea of the energy it expels because he doesn’t want you to ever feel bad for wanting the bat to cuddle.

“Well, you only need to worry about all that energy when you want to, now,” you insist, being respectfully nonspecific because you can see the waiter approaching your table with your dinners. “You never need to be anything besides yourself with me.”

“I appreciate that.” He wonders if you are so accepting and accommodating because of the past relationship or if it was just you. “I hope you’re hungry, this place is supposed to have amazing food.”

It would be cheesy or clingy or just too much to tell him that you’re actually disappointed the food is here because you have to stop holding his hand. You sit back though, politely thanking the waiter and letting your mouth water over how good everything looks and smells when your plates are set down. “Thank you for this,” you murmur when the waiter has gone again, looking tentatively back toward Max’s face. “We didn’t have to do anything at all and knowing you’re my soulmate would have already made the time we spend together special. But this is…it’s really beautiful. And I’ll never forget it.”

“We haven’t even gotten to the best part of the night.” He promises with a small wink. “Before I’m through with you, your body will be sore and you’ll be breathless.” It sounds dirty, but he’s talking about dancing.

“Max.” Your cheeks burn at the innuendo but you can’t even pretend to dislike the feeling. For the first time in…maybe years, you’re free to let yourself enjoy life. And that’s all thanks to him. Let night really might be the first time you’ve considered masturbating in longer than you would like to admit. And that is thanks to Max, too.

“What?” He tuts playfully, fully aware that your heartbeat has sped up. “Dancing should make you sore and breathless if you’re doing it right.”

“Sure.” But the thought is there, and the playful, bubbly, flirtatious woman that you used to be a long time ago floats the surface unchecked. “Dancing definitely does that,” you agree, tucking a smirk into the corner of your mouth.

“So many dances.” He likes that you are flirting back. Your eyes are practically sparkling with mischief and it’s miles apart from the scared mouse he had met when you arrived. “Tango, waltz, horizontal hustle, foxtrot.” He ticks them off on his fingers like he’s doing down a list.

The mention of horizontal hustle warms you through with a flush of embarrassment and — admittedly — arousal and you pick up your fork very properly without the smirk ever leaving your face. “The girls I danced with always called it ‘getting a new tango partner’ when they started seeing someone new. Slightly more discreet of them, considering our teachers were mostly prim middle-aged ladies.”

He hums, amused by the phrase and he runs his tongue over his teeth, toying with his incisor. “It’s allllll in the hips.”

It shouldn’t be sexy, the way you know for a fact that his teeth are certified weapons and he is just casually running his tongue over them…it makes you wonder just what his tongue might feel like running over other things. “Hips,” you hum, watching him lick his lips subtly. You can’t tell if he did it on purpose or not but it’s distracting as all hell. “I’ll remember that.”

“You do that, Queenie.” He winks at you and scoops up his fork to steal a bite of your food from your plate. He’s not going to eat it. God no, it’s too cooked for his liking, but he turns the fork around and offers you the bite. “Tell me how it tastes.” Despite not liking human food now, he misses the tastes of things.

He can absolutely hear your pulse, there’s no way he can’t when it’s pounding in your ears like a hammer. But putting your lips around his fork is perilously close to put your lips around something else of his and you close your eyes against just how tantalizing that thought is when you’re seemingly getting your sex drive back all at once.

He bites his lip when you moan, taking the bite of food. Sure that you are completely unaware of how erotic it sounds. Knowing that you aren’t trying to entice him, but just like that natural curiosity to know more about you, that attraction is something he’s helpless against. All he can do is control his reaction.

“I know you’re not big on this kind of food anymore, but that’s fantastic.” You tell him, letting the flavour linger on your tastebuds happily. Truly good food is such a luxury that you have a hard time imagining giving it up, but that’s just you.

“I used to love all kinds of food.” Max admits with a guilty grin. “Favorite thing was trying new restaurants. New foods.”

“I hate that that isn’t fun for you anymore.” To lose one of life’s simple pleasures is a shame, even if the tradeoff has many more benefits.

“It’s okay.” Max hums slightly. “I can taste what the human donor has eaten through their blood.” He admits with a grin. “Although it’s a little muted since the blood is chilled and reheated.”

“So…if it was warm from the source…it would be better?” Trying to understand the logistics of his vampirism is going to be key for you, and that means even the parts that don’t seem very savory to talk about.

“Yeah.” He shrugs slightly. “I don’t look for donors anymore.” He explains. “If someone were to offer? I might would have taken them up on it before the other night, but I wouldn’t now.”

“Is it…” As the two of you start to eat in earnest, it almost feels like the conversation should have trended this way. You are, after all, talking about his survival. “Is it a very…meaningful connection? Is that why?”

“It’s….” He pauses for a moment. “Intimate. Almost sensual to the point of turning sexual.” He looks at you intently, his eyes drilling into yours and he hopes that doesn’t offend you. “There’s nothing more intimate than taking a part of someone into your own body, right?”

“I suppose I never thought of it like that before.” Before a few days ago you had honestly never given it much thought at all, but knowing what you know now? You spend almost all of your thoughts on the subject.

“It doesn’t hurt much.” He promises, thinking you might be worried about donors. “Just a sharp pinch and then it feels good. But I won’t be drinking from anyone, I think that’s not fair when you have a soulmate.”

“It’s really that intimate?” From what he’s said, it suddenly makes much more sense to you why people would succumb to the feeling quickly, and you nod when he looks at you meaningfully. “If it’s something I’m ever going to consider, I want to know about it,” you explain. “That’s all.”

“I would never ask.” He doesn’t want you to feel like he expecting you to become his meal plan. “I hope you know that.”

******

Dinner passes with slightly lighter conversation, where you learn that you both like fall and winter better than spring and summer, and that Max used to love cookies more than anything other dessert.

The dance studio that you go to is run by a very sweet woman called Miss Valerie — who apparently named the studio for herself — and is full of all sorts of different people when you and Max are ushered into the main studio for free dancing. A laptop in the corner is playing a personalized playlist and there is a card table with drinks and snacks in a different corner which looked like some people had added to upon their arrivals. It was a night of chit chat — as soon as people heard about the masquerade they instantly wanted to know every detail — but it was fun, too. Max stayed by your side, talking up the masquerade and excusing you from conversation to dance a little more when he sensed you getting nervous.

Dancing with Max might be even better now that you know he’s your soul mate. His gentleness and steady presence leading you through every dance is mixed with so much care that you could just about cry, but there is a mounting otherness in every touch that can only be compared to the first time you allowed yourself to explore any kind of sexuality. Like you’re waking up, and instead of curiosity being what drives your own fingers in the night, it will be the memory of hearing Max’s voice in your ear or feeling his touch on your skin. He had even lifted you a few times in certain dances and it was the most literal sweeping off your feet you could ever possibly contemplate. By the time he pulls into the driveway it’s so late that you’ve lost track of the hour completely but you know you’re going to keep holding his hand until the very last second.

“I think I’ve kept Cinderella out past midnight.” Max teases as he cuts the engine. “But lucky me, you haven’t turned into a pumpkin yet.”

“No.” There’s a note of bashfulness in the way you shake your head, even though you feel bolder tonight than you have in years. “I wouldn’t dare. How could I dance with you again if I was a pumpkin?”

He grins, his teeth flashing white in the darkness of the car. “That would be such a shame, Queenie.”

“It really would be.” Dancing with Max had been like floating on water, and your face burns with pleasure and embarrassment remembering even half an hour ago.

“Would you like to keep dancing?” He asks, bringing your hand to his lips. Anyone else, it would be an innuendo for something else, but with you, he’s asking if you want him to take you to the ballroom. He had loved every second of you being in his arms and of dancing was the only way, he would dance all night.

“Am I a sissy if I admit I’m tired?” Still, your fingers tingle under the press of his lips, and knowing what you now do about his exceptional hearing means you’re sure he heard you hold your breath. “I haven’t danced that much in years and my feet aren’t as calloused as they used to be. But—” The thought is there. The intent. But you can’t quite bring yourself to form the words right away. It’s like you don’t trust yourself. Which, to be fair, you don’t.

“Not a sissy,” he huffs slightly at your ease of insulting yourself. “Human.” He reminds you that he might have the ability to stay up indefinitely, but you do not. “But?”

“I was…” It feels silly to admit it, but you would be horribly sad if the night ended here. Having him close feels like a missing piece of yourself has slid into place. “Going to ask if you wanted to come upstairs,” you admit quietly. “But that’s silly. You live here. Hell…your room is right next to mine.”

Max tilts his head, tsking slightly. “Queenie, you never need to feel silly talking to me. You meant come to your room, didn’t you?” He asks quietly, squeezing your hand gently.

“I don’t want tonight to be over yet.” His hand around yours is cool and comforting, but there’s an electricity in it that is so old that it must have been called something far different before it was called a spark.

“It doesn’t have to be.” Max smiles at the shyness in your tone, the mere embarrassment. “How about this? Why don’t I make you a cup of my famous hot chocolate while you change into something causal, and I’ll meet you upstairs?” He asks, lifting a brow.

His knack for the exact right gesture is something you’re learning isn’t accidental. The effort he is putting into spending time with you is very intentional, and makes you feel like the single most special person in the entire world. “I’ll find a book that is less than a hundred years old, just in case. How about that?”

“Whatever you want to read, sweetheart.” He promises, happy that he had phrased it correctly. He doesn’t want you thinking he assumes you’re going to sleep with him. “But first, I need to walk you to the door.” In the blink of an eye, he’s out of the car and around to your side, opening it up for you to climb out.

“I’ll never get used to that.” You’ve seen him do it now five or six times and it takes your breath away without fail. This time, though, the thing taking your breath might also be the soft smile on his face as you put your hand in his and let him lift you effortlessly out of the car.

“It’s handy.” He admits with a chuckle, closing the door behind you and turning to walk up the front steps. “I’ll be able to change into some sweats after making your hot chocolate too.”

“Does this count as post-gaming our own date?” Leaving his car behind to walk up to the house, your hand stays in his and you lean slightly into his side just on instinct. He feels so safe and you can’t possibly put into words how grateful you are for that.

“More like a casual continuation. The wind down, if you will.” He enjoys your warmth, humming softly at the feeling. You have seemed more comfortable around him as the night has gone on and Max deserve brownie points for ignoring the whiffs of arousal he’s detected.

"I like that." You also like the way he almost sounds like he's purring when he hums, but maybe that's your imagination. Remembering the little sounds he would make in bat form. "I like the idea of being able to share all the versions of ourselves."

Max opens the door to the house, hearing a sound from Eddie’s room that makes him smirk. “If you can’t share everything with your soulmate, who can you share them with?”

"What is it?" His question was rhetorical, you know that, but he looks amused and his eyes darted away from you for a second before coming back.

“Allison is still here.” He tells you, putting his finger to his lips like it’s a secret.

"And she claimed Eddie wasn't as interested as she is." You shake your head at that as if the two of you were some wise old mentors finding out your protégés had finally taken your advice. "I guess tonight was a good date night for everyone in the house, then."

Max winks at you as he closes the door behind the two of you. “Like to think ours was better.” He teases. “Now, go take those shoes off, Queenie and I’ll make your hot chocolate. If you’re lucky, I might even be talked into a foot rub for your dance sore feet.”

"I would never make you do that." More than half your life in ballet, ballroom, and jazz classes means that your feet are...not exactly going to end up in shoe ads any time soon. But it's sweet of him to offer, and you squeeze his hand before you let it go. "I'm going to go up and change. You can just come on in when you're ready."

“I’ll knock, just to make sure you aren’t still changing.” He promises with a wink before he zips off to the kitchen.

You deftly avoid Eddie's room as you go upstairs, going the long way to your room all the way across the house before you hang your sweater and release yourself from your shoes — much to the relief of your aching feet. Despite the small pain, though, you wouldn't change anything about tonight. Your dress is exchanged for a favourite t-shirt, worn thin from constant use and sporting the logo of a theme park that you went to with a bunch of friends in college when you all decided that you just needed to get away for the weekend. It hangs long on your torso, skimming past the edge of your yoga pants, and you wipe off your makeup before getting into bed with a copy of a murder mystery by Alyssa Maxwell that was most definitely published in the twenty-first century.

Max hears you settle down and is at your door in an instant. He had made the hot chocolate quickly and of course changed before you had finished your nightly routine, waiting until you were done. Two light taps on the door is the knock he gives, waiting for you to answer before he turns the knob.

"Come in." The door is just feet from your bed, and when he cracks it open he's dressed in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants with a steaming mug in his hands. "Hey." As soft as it is on your lips, it's mostly out of surprise. Max is always immaculately dressed, and the revelation that he even owns a t-shirt is a pretty big deal. Not to mention the way his broad shoulders stretch the faric, or the way his gray sweatpants (bearing a small embossed collegiate logo near the pocket) hang onto his trim hips, which is wickedly distracting.

“Hey you.” He slips inside and closes the door with a grin. “You look comfy as can be in that bed.” He teases. “Is there room for me?”

"It's a big bed." Knowing that he won't pressure you gives you an immense feeling of relief, and the boldness to actually invite him in like this. You haven't even kissed yet. There is no way you would go all the way to sex tonight. But this closeness? You're craving it. "I'm pretty sure I can fit you in here. Might have to cuddle, though."

“I’ve been told I’m pretty good at cuddling.” He hands you the mug of hot chocolate and barely resists the urge to jump into the bed.

“I’m going to be spoiled forever if you keep making me this cocoa,” you warn him, ready to take the first sip despite the steam still pouring off the mug from underneath the perfect swirl of whipped cream. “That coffeeshop should be crying over losing you, if this is what you were doing as a barista.”

“I learned that girls love a perfect hot chocolate, but also, I loved one.” He laughs as he settles down beside you. “I’ll make you one every night if you want. I actually kind of miss making coffees and things like that. It was fun and easy.”

"I would have been in that shop every single day," you admit. The first sip of cocoa is just cool enough to take, and it rolls through you like a warm hug in the very best way. "For..." Bubbling just beneath the surface, a smile spreads across your lips that you just can't contain. "For more than just the cocoa."

“I knew it.” He crows, leaning in with a triumphant look on his face. He puts his lips just a bare millimeter away from your ear. “A whipped cream junky.”

Your breath catches like it always does when he gets so close to you, and your eyes flick up to his as you all but hide your face behind the mug in your hands. "Right..." you nod slightly in agreement, but when the smile returns to your lips it morphs into shaking your head 'no' and your tone dips to teasing. "Whipped cream. That's it."

“Indulgent, creamy….” He’s teasing you, maybe himself a little as well, but he loves the way your heart skitters slightly. It reminds him of a bird being startled, except this is a joyful thing. “Satisfying. What’s not to love?”

"You're incorrigible," you observe with a pleased grin, knowing full well that you have done nothing but encourage him tonight. It's the best night — let alone best date — you've had in ages. And that's so much of why you're not ready for it to end. This is the side of Max that you always want to have with you.

“Confident.” He corrects you with a grin of his own. “Cocky, maybe even a little conceited.”

"Filling in the gaps where I have no self-confidence of my own." In many ways you really are a balancing point to each other. He lifts you up and you ground him. It keeps you interested to see what he'll do next and you can only hope that it gives him a place to feel relaxed with you. Like he can let down his guard with you. "I think...if you want to...we should go back to that studio again next week." They had invited you both eagerly, and Miss Valerie herself had loudly mentioned having a spot on their competition team for another couple if they ever found anyone who was interested. If you were ever going to pin a number onto your dress again, you would want it to be with him. His over-confidence seems to be rubbing off on you, at least a little, and giving you another nudge toward boldness. "I really loved dancing with you tonight."

“It would be unfair really,” Max hums. “To deprive them of our presence. Our talent from the dance floor.” Part of it is an adopted act of confidence, but there is something magical about dancing with you. It’s easier than any other partner he’s ever had. “So I don’t think we should. Deprive them. Give the couples something to aspire to.”

The giggle that he pulls out of you is probably the closest to effervescent that you've ever managed. There is something about the way you feel when his attention is on you that is undeniable. When Max's focus is on you, the rest of the world falls away. "I wouldn't be surprised if it's more jealousy than aspiration," you tell him honestly, taking another sip of your drink. "I'll have the most handsome partner in the room."

He can’t help but preen slightly. “It helps when your partner is the most gorgeous creature you’ve ever laid eyes on.” He murmurs sincerely. Since meeting you, getting to know you, you’ve gone from pretty to stunning in his eyes.

"That's sweet of you." As much as you want to believe that he's telling you what he believes to be the truth, it's so hard to wrap your head around. There has been far too much of your life spent being told all the things that were wrong with you that it feels impossible to believe that someone like Max could find you beautiful. But gods...you want to.

He groans quietly, closing his eyes and dropping his forehead to your shoulder. He should pull away, but your warmth is too intoxicating. “Queenie, I have a confession to make.” He whispers.

Here it is. Steeling yourself for the inevitable rejection you know that you deserve, you put your mug on the table beside your bed without unsettling his forehead. You'll make yourself the smallest presence possible in his life. You'll stop the formal dinners and just let him forget you even live in the same house if he doesn't decide to move out altogether. And you'll sure as fuck wait until he's gone to cry the tears that are already pressing at the back of your eyes. "What is it?" You don't want to ask the question, but you have to. The way your heart is already sinking tells you right away how much this is going to hurt.

He hates that your tone has changed, your body has shifted slightly. He wonders if he should have even opened his mouth, but he wanted to be honest with you. Pulling back slightly, he looks at you with a sense of anger at himself for being so unable to control himself. “I want to kiss you.”

"What?" Pushed out on a single breath, it feels like all the air has been knocked out of you all at once and your eyes blow wide when you look up at him.

“I told myself I wouldn’t push you, and I’m not.” He promises quickly. “I would never push you for anything you aren’t ready for, but I can’t help but think about it and if you want me to leave or move to the chair so I don’t make you uncomfortable, I will.”

"Please don't." Immediately reaching for him, your hand lands on his arm and your fingers squeeze, keeping him close even when you feel like your heart is going to pound out of your chest and you might forget how to breathe. "Don't like don't move away from me. Not don't like don't kiss me. I—" You might vibrate straight out of the bed in disbelief. "I really want to kiss you, too."

“You do?” Despite flirting, Max hadn’t considered that you might actually want to kiss him.

"I was getting ready for you to tell me that you wanted to end this before it started." Which feels terrible to admit, but you want to be honest with him. "Honestly, I...sort of figured you would have been able to...to smell how much I want to kiss you?"

Biting his lip, he considers lying to you, but he nods. “Just because you’re body is telling me yes, doesn’t mean your mind is.” He murmurs quietly, laying a hand on your arm and rubbing it gently. “I was a fucking horndog in the past, but I know boundaries.”

"I don't know how much else I'm ready for." Your hand covers his on your arm long enough to feel the difference between your burning skin and his cooler body, before your hand moves tentatively up his arm. Being allowed to touch him while you're dancing is so very different from touching him in your bed. "But I know I'm ready for this."

Max slides an arm under your body to pull you closer, shifting slightly so both of you are laying on your sides facing each other. “Queenie,” he leans in and nudges his nose against yours, eyes watching you closely. “May I kiss you?”

"Yes. Please." As far as enthusiastic consent goes, you really can't be more explicit and you don't want to just jump the gun and kiss him without answering. Lying in his arms in your bed is the last place you expected this to happen, but now that you're here it's like a dream.

He licks his lips, wetting them as his eyes flicker down to yours. Somewhere between your first sip and now, your cocoa has been pushed onto the nightstand and he can hold you without fear of spilling something hot all over you. “Good.” He murmurs, leaning in to take in your scent, mouthwatering and thick like ambrosia, before he lowers his mouth to yours.

______

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thelov3lybookworm · 8 months

Text

Mere Coincidence? (Part two)

Part 1

Summary: Y/n never thought she would ever be treated like more than trash. So it's a surprise when one of the most powerful men in the entirety of Prythian saves her.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: okay, so this one is a good one.i like it, and it kinda gives me hope that ill be able to write a slow burn for once(whenever i think of doing slow burn, I end up making the characters kiss and make them get together 🙄)

I also feel like this chapter doesn't make sense kinda? Like everyone's pissed for no reason? Was that a spoiler?

Anyways, Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

The slight burn in her hands was almost unnoticeable as she scrubbed away at the dishes. She'd been at it for hours now, washing away the piles of dirty plates.

It had barely been a few hours since her wings were almost clipped, and she was doing her chores like nothing happened.

She simply stared out of the window in front of her, the work not requiring any of her attention, having almost become a habit, a clockwork. She had been doing chores around the camp pretty much before she even learned how to walk without faceplanting in the snow.

She was alone in the kitchen, had been for a while. It was quiet, calm. Which was slightly concerning.

The sun was setting, the fading glow turning everything slightly orange. To someone who had never visited the Illyrian mountains, it would have been beautiful.

But the people who lived here, especially the females, knew how often the orange-red snow from the sun, was colored so red due to blood.

And she was still wondering if it was a mere coincidence that the snow in the center of the camp wasn't covered in her blood at the moment.

It was puzzling, how the General of the Night Court's armies had arrived at the perfect moment to stop her wings from being clipped. How, he was so sure that he would know if her father tried to clip her wings again.

The most peculiar thing was, he was ready to rip her father apart if any more attempts at clipping her wings were made.

She could not, for the life of her, understand why he would do that.

Sure, he was known to be against wing clipping, just like most of the elite members in the High Lord's Court. But she didn't think anyone of them would go to such lengths to protect any females wings. The law had been in place for decades, probably centuries, and still the Illyrians clipped wings left and right.

So, that agian brought her to the starting point. The same question.

Why in the Cauldron's name, was the General so interested in Y/n's wellbeing?

A crash brought her out of her daze, and she blinked as she looked next to her.

There, she found a little girl, who looked barely over five, staring at the broken pieces of glass next to their feet. Y/n hadn't even heard her enter.

When the girl glanced up at Y/n, her lower lip was wobbling, her eyes glassy. Y/n quickly washed her hands, setting the cleaned plate she was holding aside before she picked up the little girl and carried her towards a counter nearby, where no glass shards had reached.

Y/n settled the little girl on the counter, her tiny legs dangling over the stone top.

"What is your name?" Y/n questioned gently, pushing the hair away from the trembling girl's face.

"T-Tiya." The girl answered in a small, shaky voice, still staring at the shattered pieces near the washing area.

"Tiya. You have a beautiful name." Her futile attempt at distraction was wasted, as Tiya continued shivering.

And she was not shivering because of the cold.

It was fear.

Because she had broken a plate.

"Are you afraid?"

That finally seemed to draw Tiya's attention. "They will beat me. They will make me sleep without eating."

It broke Y/n's heart, seeing how scared such a young soul was because of a simple plate. Someone who should have been wondering about what she would play next was wondering if she would get beaten and punished, if she would be forbidden from having whatever scarce dinner the females in the camp were provided.

"Tiya. I want you to listen to me very carefully. Okay?" She waited till Tiya nodded before continuing. "The plate you see there? I was the one who broke it."

Tiya glanced up sharply, her eyes wide, and shook her head. "You are mistaken. I broke it–"

"You didn't. You were in the kitchen, finishing your chores, and you saw me dropping the plate. You hear me?"

"But... is that not lying?"

Y/n's face softened. "It is not. Its just hiding the truth. And even if it was lying, it would be okay, because we're doing it so we do not get hurt. Lying is not okay when we do it to hurt others. But now we are merely trying to keep ourselves safe. It's alright to lie to keep yourself safe."

"They will beat you. They will make you sleep without food." Tiya's eyes lined with tears as she stared at Y/n. "You will get hurt if I lie. That is not okay, right?"

Y/n couldn't argue with that. But she had to. She couldn't let this little girl get hurt. She wouldn't let her get hurt, because no one had tried to save Y/n when she was a kid, and it was not fair. It was not fair that the little kids who should be frolicking around and giggling were stuck sweeping around the camp and having the laughter stolen from them.

And someone had to step up, in whatever way they could.

Y/n could not stop these practices, because who was she if the even the High Lord hadn't been able to get the idea of these primal practices from the thick skull of Illyrians. And because she could not stop them from hurting children, she would take on the punishment for them.

It wasn't much, but it was something. Especially when one good act of hers could help the little ones belive that there was good in this world, and it was not just lashings, beatings and starvation everywhere. That there was still hope, and all that they had to do was hold on and be strong.

She wanted to do this so that the children wouldn't become the hopeless female Y/n had become.

"Can we be friends Tiya?"

Tiya blinked, before nodding.

Y/n smiled. "So consider this our secret, because friends have secrets. You do know what a secret is, right? You can't tell anybody about this. If someone asks, you will tell them that you saw me dropping the plate. Nothing more, nothing less. Okay?"

Tiya sniffed, but nodded. Y/n placed a kiss on Tiya's forehead, hugging her little frame for a moment before picking her up from the counter and setting her down on the ground.

Tiya gave Y/n a small smile before turning, nearly sprinting out the door.

Y/n watched her go, hoping to quickly clean up the mess before one of the head females saw her. If they did, Y/n would receive and earful on top of the beating and starving, and she was in no mood for all of that at the same time.

Tiya came to a sudden stop just outside the kitchen doors, staring up at something–or someone– next to the door.

Y/n's blood instantly chilled.

What if it was one of the pompous asses of the camp, who would run to Y/n's father at every little piece of information just to have the Lord acknowledge his existence? What if this person had heard everything? If that was the case, then both Y/n and Tiya were in deep shit.

Y/n quickly made her way over, prepared to beg the illyrian to keep their mouth shut.

But who she found herself staring at was not who she would have expected.

The General of the Night Court's armies stared right beck at her, his eyes slightly wide.

Tiya's tiny hand closed Y/n's, clutching tightly. Y/n glanced down, looking at the girl who was trying to hide behind Y/n. She turned back to the General, who was now staring at Tiya.

He swallowed, then slid his hand into one of his pockets and pulled out a candy wrapped in colorful paper and held it out to Tiya. To her credit, she didn't take it. To his, he didn't pull back his hand until Tiya reluctantly took the candy.

The General smiled, and the warmth radiating from him could have been the reason that Tiya relaxed.

The reason the little girl began to blush was definitely due to the wink the General threw her way.

After that, Tiya took off to wherever she was going before, and Y/n turned away, walking back to the kitchen to clean up and finish her remaining chores.

She had thought– hoped– that the General would have left.

But the bastard didn't.

He followed her inside, and as she began picking up the glass pieces, he knelt next to her.

She sighed in frustration and looked up at him, a charming smile on his face.

"Need some help?"

"No." She continued gathering the pieces of broken glass, trying to ignore the walking furnace next to her. Trying not to lean into the warmth he gave off to fend off the cold from the snowy mountain.

"That's unfortunate. I was hoping I could help."

Y/n said nothing, simply continuing her work.

"You know, I wonder why you look so panicked. No one would notice one missing plate."

"They would." She mumbled quietly, trying not to lose her temper. She knew it was irrational to be pissed at someone who had helped her, saved the one thing she loved most. But she was frustrated, not knowing why he did what he did. The broken plate was an added bonus.

She had received extremely little lunch, her father being mad at her. She had hoped she could eat at night, but now even that was going to be taken from her.

"How? How would they know? It's not like–"

She groaned, turning fully to him. "What is your problem? Why are you here? What do you want from me?"

The General held up his hands. "Woah, okay. First off, my problem is that I haven't drunk any liquor in a week. Can you imagine? I've been in a weird mood the whole week. On top of that, Rhysand forbade me from killing Illyrians. Truly a tragedy. For the second question, I'm here to try and help you clean that. And for the third one, I am just trying to talk you." He gave her a grin, and she had to stop herself from embedding the glass shard she held in her hand in his face.

A sting on her finger made her gasp, and she looked down to realise she had been squeezing the sharp object. Blood welled on her finger, and she cursed inwardly.

The General also saw that, and he was immediately reaching out towards her hand. "Here, let me help with that."

But Y/n snatched her hand back, glaring at him. "No. Thank you." She bit out. "Leave."

His brows furrowed, but she pointed towards the door, and he sighed and reluctantly stood. And then, without a word, he left.

•○🌑○•

She had just left her father's office, the beating she was supposed to receive having been cancelled. Her father had decided against punishing her for some reason.

She still couldn't eat though.

She hadn't wanted to go home yet, so she'd decided to take a small walk near to the forest.

After walking for sometime, she had taken a seat against a tree, leaning her head back.

She was hungry, so much so that she was ready to eat rocks.

Snow crunched behind her, and she stiffened.

Turning, she found the the General walking towards her, a pack over his shoulder.

She almost screamed when he sat down next to her.

They sat in silence for some time. But then the General apparently couldn't take it anymore.

He passed her the pack, and she looked up questioningly.

"It's food. Eat up."

She pushed the pack back towards him. "I don't need it."

"Damned Illyrians and their pride." He growled, dropping the pack in her lap and standing. "Better eat it, and get back home before the sun fully sets."

Y/n blinked for a moment, wondering what had gotten into the male in front of her. She didn't think it was that big of an issue to warrant an outburst.

"And what if I don't?"

"You could end up dead. There are creatures lurking in the forest."

"I see no problem with that "

"Then die." He ran a hand through his hair roughly before he took off, and Y/n stared after him.

What the hell?

She never thought someone would be so pissed that she didn't want to eat, but here she was. That was a first.

She glanced down at the pack next to her, then around her to make sure no one was near.

Then she opened the pack and began eating. After all, who was she to turn down food?

She just hoped no one noticed that she wasn't being starved.

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless

'Mere coincidence?' taglist: @jesssicapaniagua @historygeekqueen @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog

#cassian #cassian x you #cassian x reader #acosf #cassian acotar #cassian acosf #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar series #acotar writing #Valkyrie #illyrian #Illyria #night court #General of night court #lord of bloodshed

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la-pheacienne · 4 months

Text

Ok I've rambled about this before but I want to do it once more.

You may need to sit down for this one but the Wicked Stepmother Trope is a reflection of very real life situations. There were and still are, "wicked" stepmothers. This is not just a stereotype. Irregardless of the societal reasons behind this (patriarchal structure of society), we cannot deny the fact that women, deprived of any real political power in the outside world, often abuse the little power they had inside their own household, at the detriment of other, weaker family members. Women are people, not holograms. Women historically had power however limited, and they too abused that power when they could, and they could do that against children because children are weaker. This is a centuries old societal problem that still exists today, especially in more traditional cultures. It is not mere construction. If you are not familiar with this issue, you have lived a very privileged life and I am happy for you.

However, let's suppose for a moment that the Wicked Stepmother Trope is indeed problematic and has a misogynistic nuance. I believe this is often the case and I will explain why.

If you want to deconstruct the Wicked Stepmother Trope, you have to be sure that there is a proper Wicked Stepmother Trope to begin with in the source material. You also have to make sure that the Wicked Stepmother Trope isn't already deconstructed in the source material. Which is EXACTLY the case in Fire and Blood.

So let's take a typical example of the Wicked Stepmother Trope : Cinderella. Let's compare Cinderella with Fire and Blood for a second.

There is no Wicked Stepmother resembling Cinderella's stepmother in Fire and Blood, for the simple reason that there is no Cinderella héroïne. What is a Cinderella héroïne : a passive, innocent, purely reactive girl, that patiently suffers and awaits for her Prince (a man) that will save her from her evil Stepmother (a woman). All these elements need to exist in order to talk about a proper Wicked Stepmother Trope. This trope gets this misogynistic nuance only when it is paralleled with the poor innocent fairytale heroine. It's the antithesis of the willful and driven woman that is punished in the end (stepmother) Vs the passive perfect feminine figure that is rewarded in the end (stepdaughter), that gives the Wicked Stepmother Trope the misogynistic nuance it has. And this is very important.

Now back to Fire and Blood.

Well, Rhaenyra isn't a Cinderella character at all. She is willful, she's radical, she claims her birthright, she makes mistakes, she dares, she goes against the status quo. She fits the stepdaughter role, and she too has a dashing Prince that tries to save her. Except that he doesn't. He dies, and so does she, horribly. She is not rewarded by patriarchy for her youth, beauty and submissiveness (very important factor if we wanna talk about misogyny in fairytales). Quite the contrary, SHE is punished by patriarchy.

Alicent fits the stepmother role, except that she doesn't fit the misogynistic Wicked Stepmother Trope because her punishment does not constitute an exemplary punishment for NOT being a Cinderella type of female. It's this juxtaposition to Cinderella that makes the trope misogynistic to begin with.

If anything, the Wicked Stepmother Trope is ALREADY deconstructed in the source material. By not respecting that, the writers achieved of course the contrary result : a deeply misogynistic narrative. Rhaenyra is basically a whore. The entire Dance stems from the fact that Rhaenyra had extramarital sex and that's it. That's literally it. The main antagonist was reduced to a rape victim, and had no ambition whatsoever. Since Rhaenyra wasn't a rape victim and had sexual freedom, morally she comes across as more ambiguous than the pure one dimensional victim that show!Alicent is. Rhaenyra had a choice, Alicent doesn't. So the whole BS that both women are equally victims of patriarchy comes at the expense of the actual female protagonist, the willful, daring, non-conforming female character trying to preserve her agency : Rhaenyra. It also comes at the expense of creating characters that feel real and consistent and are not just the product of a power-point on misogyny in uni.

Book!Alicent does not fit a stereotypical misogynistic Wicked Stepmother Trope, a trope whose main goal is to reward submissiveness and punish willfulness. It's already deconstructed in the source material. The author did all the work, all they had to do is copy it. They didn't, which is why we have takes like "oh if Rhaenyra didn't want to be burned alive she shouldn't have had a paramour in Court".

#wicked stepmother trope #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #fire and blood #hotd #cinderella #aspa rambles

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