#Mari's wing covers his hand

[clegfly]

Small sketch for “is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it’s mari! Wait, what?” on ao3, I fucking love this fic man it’s so fun and yet has so much thought behind it at the same time… also author is awesome so yeah

[coryosbaby]

ᴅᴏʟʟ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ

Enoch O’Connor x angel! Reader <3

“Enoch! Give it back!”

Your citrine voice echoes throughout Miss Peregrine’s Orphanage as you chase the dark haired boy down. In his hands is your favorite doll, cracked but still beautiful, one Enoch had brought to life for you in the wee hours of the night many (of the same) days ago. He stomps angrily through the house, his jaw clenched, large back muscles flexing. Ignoring the squirming of the doll— aka, Mary— and her annoyed kicks, he tears open the door of his room and slams it right in your face.

How rude he is! All you had wanted to do was have tea with him and show him your new book. He had snapped at you, snarkily said something about “the both of you being too old for tea parties” and that he had more important things to do then do something so childish. You had snapped back, hurt from his words, and he had stolen Mary from you.

You don’t understand how he can be so cruel. His mood changes like the seasons— one minute he’s got a small smile on his usually dull face as he listens to you speak, making you toys that live and breathe. And then the next, it’s like you’re satan spawn.

You rest your back against his bedroom door, pouting. Tears begin to well in your eyes. You just wanted to show him your new book.

It isn’t long before you’re wiping your face and strolling towards Claire’s room. She lets you rant about your book without fuss, fascinated by all the tales that you had enamored yourself with. She also cheers you up about Enoch.

“He’s just in one of his moods,” she explained. A frown had formed on both of her faces, even when the one on the back of her head was gnawing on a chocolate chip cookie. “You know how he can get. He’ll cheer up and apologize, like he always does. Besides, he knows how important Mary is to you. He’ll give her back, I’m sure of it.”

You wonder how a child so young can be so intelligent about such things. But you guess that’s what happens when you relive the same day over and over for fifty years. You learn things, and in a way, still grow mentally.

After your talk with Claire, you feel better. You bid her goodbye, say hi to Emma as you pass her, and wander down the halls barefoot in your flowing pink dress. You make your way to the library for a new book to read.

To your distaste, Enoch is sitting at the couch when you walk through the door. You let out a little “hhm” sound, stomping angrily to the shelves. He’s got his head in a textbook about anatomy and looks up from it at the sound of your voice. He scoffs, then looks back down at it again.

Your fingers skim over book titles, some pretty and dainty, some horrific and covered in fine, dark print. You decide to pick a book by William Shakespeare— A Midsummer Night’s Dream. You scratch your feathered wings, beginning to read the book as you make your way back out of the room.

You pause at the door when Enoch’s voice makes way through your thoughts.

“You’ve read that one,” he murmurs, as his eyes scan over you.

You waver, hand staying on the doorknob.

“I didn’t know you remembered that.” you reply. You had read it years ago. Or, what you presume to be years ago. If you can even count time here.

“You recited it to me.” he shrugs, taking a glance over at your wings. They always fascinate him, even after all of this time.

“I know what I did, Enoch,” you retort, not having much logic in your sentence. But when do you ever? “Don’t tell me what I’ve done. You don’t have a right.”

“What sense does that make?” He questions snarkily, but you’re already out the door.

—

Dinner goes without much fuss. Miss Peregrine looks at the two of you questionably, wondering why you didnt take your usual seat beside Enoch, but doesn’t mention it out loud. After the reset you head back to your room and immerse yourself in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Your lace nightgown drapes down your body in silky waves.

Your shoulders are tensed, your feet tapping nervously. You’re used to Mary’s porcelain feet dancing across the hardwood floors, her tiny giggles as she looks at herself in the mirror. Usually at this time of night, you and the doll will lay awake in the dark, huddled under your ruffled pink comforter, and whisper to each other. It’s the only way you can go to sleep— Enoch had made her to help with your nightmares, after all. Your nightmares of children with no heads, monsters that pluck out children’s eyes in their sleep. Your nightmares of losing the people you love.

How could he be so cruel?

That anger flares up again. With a forceful hand, you slam the book down onto your desk and stalk across the hallway. Your knuckles rap against Enoch’s door ferociously, and when he finally opens it you force your way into his room with curses spilling off of your tongue.

“I don’t understand, Enoch!” Your wings seem to glow a dusty red hue from your rage. “I’m nothing but nice to you! I help you with your experiments, I try to be your friend, but at this point I don’t know if anyone could ever..“

You stop dead in your tracks. Enoch’s eyes dart to his work table, as if he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. You look across to it.

There, sitting happily, all fixed up, is Mary.

She has a smile on her painted face, and a new dress adorning her. Shes cleaned, polished, and almost looks brand new. All the cracks that were once on her porcelain skin have vanished.

“[y/n]!” The doll giggles excitedly, saying your name in words only you can hear. “Look what Enoch made for me! Isn’t it pretty?”

You gape as Mary happily twirls in her dress. Enoch clears his throat.

“She was filthy,” he mutters. “You should really start cleaning your things. It tracks dirt and grass all over the house.”

Turning to him, your stomach racks with guilt.

“You fixed her for me?”

He shrugs, avoiding your gaze, acting nonchalant.

“I’ve been meaning to for a while. It was quite annoying, watching her face caked with dirt everyday. And her dress was practically torn to shreds.”

You pick Mary up from the table, holding her in the palms of your hands. You press a kiss to her hair. The doll yawns.

“I’m tired,” she mumbles. “Can’t we sleep now?”

“In a moment,” you reply. “Why don’t you go to my room and wait up for me?”

She looks between you and Enoch, does that off putting giggle that would make anyone else uncomfortable, but not you. She hops down from your fingertips, and skips away to your room across the hall.

You hear Enoch’s bedroom door close behind you once she’s gone, and jump. The familiar raven haired boy brushes past you, taking a seat in his chair. His curls fall into his face, and usually you would move them away while he silently grumbled at you not to touch them. But right now, it’s different. You rock on the balls of your feet as silence fills the dark space.

“Enoch—“ you start, but the boy picks up a scalpel and throws one of his toys onto the table.

“I need the jar of hearts on the third shelf.”

It’s all he says, and you know that this is his way of saying he’s sorry. It’s an odd way, but it’s a way you’ve picked up on continuously. The boy doesn’t have the mouth to utter an apology, so he just brings things back to normal instead.

You scamper over to the shelves, picking out the jar he wanted, and sit it down beside him. A small smile grazes your lips, and you sit on the chair that he had put there just for you. He works silently, and his bottom lip pulls in between his teeth. You think it’s quite enamoring— sort of like your books.

Your mouth can’t seem to contain itself, and within minutes you’re speaking up again.

“Thank you,” you say. “I’m sorry. I should’ve—“

“It’s my fault,” he replies. “I…I shouldn’t have came off so brash.”

Without thinking, your hand brushes up against his.

“It’s alright,” you explain. “I forgive you, even though you haven’t said you’re sorry. But I know you are.”

He pauses. He can’t help but trail his eyes down to where your hands meet. You smile up at him, and he adjusts in his seat.

You kiss him.

You don’t know why you do, exactly. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, like you’re something special. But your lips meet, and it’s sweet. Innocent, really— a small peck. His eyes are wide when you pull away from him.

“What was that?” He asks.

Your wings turn baby pink, and a grin spreads across your face.

“I just felt like it.”

[notmysophie]

Hozier reading list

Literary references in Hozier music

Alighieri, Dante; Inferno

The story of Francesca da Rimini as told in canto V inspired the song Francesca.

The album Unreal Unearth is arranged as a journey through nine circles of hell as they are described in the Inferno part of the Divine Comedy.

The title of the song Through Me (the flood) is a reference to the first lines of canto III.

Hozier read the translation by Robert Pinsky (https://www.rte.ie/radio/radio1/clips/22285692/) 

Beckett, Samuel; Endgame

The song Wasteland, Baby! Takes inspiration from this play. (5 september 2023) (https://www.pastemagazine.com/music/hozier/cover-story-hozier-unreal-unearth) 

O'Brien, Flann; the Third Policeman

The character of de Selby in the Third Policeman inspired the songs de Selby part 1 and 2.

Heaney, Seamus; At the Wellhead

The song To Noise Making (Sing) contains a8n audio fragment of Heaney reading this poem.

Heaney, Seamus; The Cure at Troy

The line "Or honey hope even on this side of the grave again?" In the song "To Noise Making (Sing) " is inspired by the line "History says, Don't hope / On this side of the grave."  in this poem.

Joyce, James; A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

The line "Shaking the wings of their terrible youths" in the song Angel of Small Death & the Codeine Scene is derived from a line in this book. As mentioned in the interview with Zane Lowe for Apple Music (august 28, 2023) (https://youtu.be/y5JpgNIkOz4?si=Yg1GVewfZlHkdVm1)  

Also mentioned as general inspiration in an interview with the Daily Meal (october 28, 2014) (https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel)

Mack, dr. Katie

Astrophysicist dr. Katie Mack is mentioned by name in the song No Plan. A quote from the song is used in her book The End of Everything (Astrophysically speaking)

Neruda, Pablo, Sonnet XVII

The songs de Selby part 1 and part 2 take some inspiration from this poem. (Mentioned when introducing the song during a concert)

Ovid, Metamorphoses

The story of Icarus is mentioned in the song Sunlight and inspired the song I, Carrion (Icarian).

The story of Orpheus and Eurydice is mentioned in the song Talk.

Plato; The Allegory of the Cave

The phrase "Adding shadows to the walls of the cave" in the song Sedated refers to this story.

Swift, Jonathan; A Modest Proposal

Inspiration for the song Eat Your Young.

Wilde, Oscar; Chanson

The line "a rope in hand for your other man to hang from a tree" in the song From Eden" is inspired by the line "And a hempen rope for your own love / To hang upon a tree." in this poem.

Yeats, W. B.; The Second Coming

The line "To Bethlehem it slouched" in the song NFWMB is almost directly copied from this poem.

Yeats, W. B.; Leda and the Swan

Inspiration for the song Swan Upon Leda

Other books recommended/mentioned by Hozier

Amis, Martin; The Zone of Interest

Recommended by Hozier in an 'Ask Me Anything' before the release of the album Wasteland, baby! on reddit in 2019

Beckett, Samuel; Not I

Hozier joked the album Unreal Unearth would contain four tracks, two of them being recordings of him reading this play with his mouth full of marshmallows.

The cover art of Unreal Unearth is said to reference this play.

Bukowski, Charles

Mentioned as a teenage favorite (https://youtu.be/e5pFwDvcIGA)

Ó Cadhain, Máirtín; Graveyard Clay (Cré Na Cille)

Mentioned as his current read in an instagram Q&A on December 1, 2021

Eliot, T. S.

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel 

Heaney, Marie; Over Nine Waves, a Book of Irish Legends

(Source? Mentioned on social media?)

Heaney, Seamus

https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/music/hozier-why-seamus-heaney-s-last-words-mean-so-much-to-me-1.3797926

Herbert, Frank; Dune

Mentioned as a current read/audiobook on How Long Gone podcast episode 614. March 6, 2024

Joyce, James; Ulysses

https://youtu.be/s0Ux72N4K10 

Kierkegaard, Søren; The Sickness unto Death

(Source?)

Orwell, George; 1984

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel/

Rubin, Rick; The Creative Act

Mentioned as his current read in an interview for WNYC Radio, 17 March 2023

https://youtu.be/Cd2uxpD9Hc8?si=cJ8bKrfFeXk_WS2F 

Salinger, J. D.; Catcher in the Rye 

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel/

Wilde, Oscar

https://youtu.be/s0Ux72N4K10 

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel/

Williams, Niall; This Is Happiness

Mentioned as his current read at a fan meet & greet (Bristol, 6 August 2023)

Yeats, W. B.

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel/

Poetry/stories read by Hozier in livestreams/videos (and the books he read them from)

3 July 2020 Instagram live

Seamus Heaney; Postscript (the Spirit Level)

Seamus Heaney; A Kite for Michael and Christopher (Station Island)

W. B. Yeats; No Second Troy (W. B. Yeats Poems selected by Seamus Heaney)

W. B. Yeats; To a Friend Whose Work Has Come to Nothing (W. B. Yeats Poems selected by Seamus Heaney)

Ovid, Daedalus and Icarus (Metamorphoses, translated by David Raeburn, penguin classics)

Sinéad Morrissey; & Forgive Us Our Trespasses (Being Human edited by Neil Astley)

Also mentioned; Staying Alive edited by Neil Astley

Seen on the table; Fear Not by Stephen James Smith

10 July 2020 Instagram live

Seamus Heaney; HÖFN (District & Circle)

Seamus Heaney; District & Circle (District & Circle)

Stephen Dunn; Sadness

Stephen Dunn; Sweetness

Ovid; Orpheus and Eurydice (Metamorphoses, translated by David Raeburn, penguin classics)

T. S. Eliot; The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (Collected Poems 1909-1962)

Brendan Kennelly; Begin 

17 July 2020 Instagram live

Ezra Pound; And the Days Are Not Full Enough

Wilfred Owen; Futility

James Joyce; A Flower Given to My Daughter

Pablo Neruda; Keeping Quiet

Langston Hughes; I, Too

Imtiaz Dharker; They'll Say She Must Be From Another Country

W. B. Yeats; When You Are Old

Stephen James Smith; On the Bus (Fear Not)

Seamus Heaney; Saint Kevin and the Blackbird

Seamus Heaney; Sweeney Praises the Trees (Sweeney Astray)

Maya Angelou; Touched by an Angel

Garrison Keillor; Supper

Pablo Neruda; Sonnet XCIV (If I Die) (100 Love Sonnets, translated by Stephen Tapscott)

T. S. Eliot; Ash Wednesday (Collected Poems 1909-1962)

Ovid, the Four Ages (Metamorphoses, translated by David Raeburn, penguin classics)

Also mentioned; Ireland, My Ireland by Stephen James Smith

25 July 2020 Instagram live

Anne Stevenson; The Spirit is Too Blunt an Instrument

Katie Mack; The Slow Fade to Black (the End of Everything, Astrophysically Speaking)

Pablo Neruda; Sonnet XVII (One Hundred Love Sonnets, translated by Mark Eisner)

Kahlil Gibran; On Love (the Prophet)

Sharon Olds; True Love

Rita Ann Higgins; The Did-You-Come-Yets of the Western World

7 August 2020 Instagram live

James Joyce; Araby (Dubliners)

Also mentioned A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce

17 march 2021 Tiktok live

Brendan Kennelly; Begin

Derek Mahon; Everything is Going to Be Alright

Sinéad Morrissey; & Forgive Us Our Trespasses

Faisal Mohyuddin; Prayer (The Displaced Children of Displaced Children)

Pádraig Ó Tuama; How to Be Alone

Stephen James Smith; Dublin, You Are

Paula Meehan; Seed

Various reads

Seamus Heaney; At the Wellhead

https://youtu.be/uIBpT_rqUfA

Patrick Kavanagh; Peace

https://youtu.be/Iz1OXOFua4w

W. B. Yeats; He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

https://youtu.be/e5pFwDvcIGA

W. B. Yeats; A Coat

https://youtu.be/e5pFwDvcIGA

Seamus Heaney; Miracle

https://x.com/seamusheaneyest/status/1253626839316279296?s=20 

[theprongspotter]

okay now u have to write abt remus finding out mary’s boggart is a werewolf :(

Monster - Remus microfic - 662 words

Remus knows what this means and dread pools in his stomach. This means that he will have to stand in front of the class as a full moon emerges from the chest. Other students will speculate about what it could mean and those with half a brain cell could even translate his Latin name to Wolf McWolf. Then from there they could put two and two together and soon the entire school will know his secret. His friends will know his secret. Sirius will know his secret. Sirius will hate him.

“Alright, Moons?” A voice whispers in his ear.

He turns to face Sirius and gives him a small smile. “Alright.”

When he faces forward again, a Hufflepuff is face to face with a massive wasp. It only gets to inch forward once before the boy aims his wand at the boggart and yells “Riddikulus!” The wasp gains a top hat and a cane as it bursts into a musical number. The fear on the Hufflepuff’s face resolves into amusement and he and surrounding students begin to laugh.

Next up is Mary MacDonald. Hanging around Lily Evan’s has led him to meet her last year and now they’ve become friends themselves. She’s funny, smart, and so pretty that Remus was sure he met a goddess when he first saw her. He’s still convinced that’s so.

The grip she has on her wand is deadly, her knuckles turning pale as she steps in front of the chest. Students lean forward in anticipation as the chest shakes. The latch breaks off as scruffy fur and sharp claws leap out of it. The creature snarls, baring bloody teeth. Cries and shouts are heard around the classroom as students run about. Mary hasn’t moved, frozen in fear as the werewolf locks eyes with her. Professor Burkes has to step in and banish the boggart back to the chest.

That doesn’t calm the students though, as they continue to flail about. Remus, like Mary, hasn’t moved a muscle. He’s standing still, arms by his side, as he stares at the chest.

She’s afraid of me. The realization hits him hard and his heart feels like it’s going through a shredder.

“Moony?” A gentle hand rests on his arm. Remus gasps, taking a step back. “Remus, you’re shaking.” Sirius frowns and his brows are pinched in worry.

I’m a monster.

“What’s wrong? Is that your boggart, too?” His eyes show confusion, but his tone is laced with concern.

“I—“ Remus chokes on his words. His vision is going blurry. He tries to speak again but his throat clenches. He needs to get out of here.

He turns around and runs out of the classroom, his breathing picking up. He’s not sure where his feet are taking him until the stone floor turns into grass, and then the grass turns into wood, and then he’s curled up in a ball in the Shrieking Shack where he should forever stay because he’s a savage beast. He’s a life ruiner. He’s a murderer. He’s terrible enough to be someone’s greatest fear. He’s terrible enough to be Mary’s greatest fear.

It’s Professor McGonagall that finds him in the end, asleep on the dust-covered floor with tear stained cheeks. Sirius had run to her office to explain the situation because he knows that if anyone knows what’s going on, it’s her.

He looks exhausted and her heart aches for the boy. She casts a feather-light charm and picks him up before casting a disillusion charm over them both. This way, she is able to carry him back to the hospital wing without attracting unwanted attention.

Professor McGonagall lays him down on a bed further back so he can rest, and lifts the spells. She sighs and shakes her head. “You’re just a boy, Remus Lupin.”

And she shuts the curtains surrounding the bed.

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfic - DADA Class

Words: 993

@wolfstarmicrofic

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

Professor MacDonald frowned as Remus knocked on the door of his office.

“Lupin, I’m still missing an essay from you from Tuesday.”

“Professor McGonagall cleared it that I would have a week’s leeway after the full moon, sir. That’s been the accommodation since first year.” Remus tried to keep his voice level. “It’ll be with you before Monday.”

He rolled his eyes and Remus had to work very hard to keep himself in check. Madam Pomfrey hadn’t wanted to release him from the hospital wing yet, but the third year that MacDonald had sent to bring Remus to him (coward that he was) had been adamant and Remus had promised to return when the meeting was over.

“I received the note from Professor McGonagall requesting that you be exempt from the lesson on Boggarts.”

“Yes, Professor.” He nodded.

“Do you not think you’ve missed enough of my lessons because of your… affliction.” He sneered and Remus forced himself to focus on a spot on the wall so he didn’t snap. “What excuse do you have this time?”

“I thought that would be rather obvious, Professor,” Remus said, still focusing on the wall, trying not to grind his teeth. “Professor Dumbledore doesn’t want other students to know what I am, if my boggart is the full moon, which it’s likely to be, that’s going to make it fairly easy for people to put two and two together.”

“Lupin, you’re covered in grotesque scars, you miss classes several days a month around the full moon, and your so-called friends refer to you as Moony.” He smirked viciously at Remus, “If people aren’t already putting two and two together, maybe they’re just stupid.”

“Professor, that note was a courtesy to let you know that I won’t be in the lesson. I’m not the one who suggested this. If you have an issue with me missing the lesson, or with me in general, I suggest you take it up with your colleagues.”

Remus turned on his heel and strode away from the office, tuning out Professor MacDonald’s fury that echoed through the corridor after him.

When he got back to the hospital wing, Sirius was waiting for him.

“Where the fuck have you—” He stopped when he saw Remus’ face. “What’s wrong?”

“MacDonald’s a dick,” Remus muttered as he peeled his robes off and slid back into bed.

“Mary or Professor?”

Remus laughed softly, “Professor MacDonald. He demanded that I go and see him immediately, then told me my essay was late, told me that my 'affliction' was a lousy excuse for missing classes, tried to tell me that he didn’t agree to me missing the lesson on boggarts, and finished it up with a lovely speech about how anyone who hasn’t guessed what I am yet is stupid, thanks to my… how did he word it? Oh, my ‘so-called friends calling me Moony’ and my ‘grotesque scars’.”

Sirius stared at him. “He fucking what?” He said in a low voice. “He actually said that?”

Remus nodded, and Sirius got to his feet without another word and left the hospital wing. “Pads!” Remus called after him, but he was ignored. “Fuck.”

He let Madam Pomfrey give him a sleeping draught not long after Sirius left. There was no way he’d sleep otherwise.

When he awoke, Sirius’ fingers were laced between his and his head rested on the bed, next to Remus’ knees. It looked very uncomfortable. He reached down with his free hand and pushed Sirius’ hair off his face.

“Pads.” He whispered. “Sirius!” Sirius shot upright, mumbling something about David Bowie. “You look dead uncomfortable.” He patted the bed next to him and Sirius clambered in without needing to be told twice.

It was smaller than the beds in their dorm, and as Sirius draped his arm around Remus, pulling him into his chest, Remus wondered how awake and cognisant of his actions he was.

“Where did you go before?” He asked, not knowing if he wanted to know the answer. “Please tell me you didn’t go and confront MacDonald.”

Sirius blinked a few times, trying to keep his eyes open. “Nah, I was tempted to go and give him a piece of my mind.” He paused, a smile crossing his features, “but I didn’t think you’d want your best friend to become a murderer. So I went to Minnie, and then we went to Dumbledore. They’ll sort it out.”

Remus was taken aback. Less than a year ago, Sirius had risked multiple lives when he told Snape about the Whomping Willow. In the aftermath he’d promised to be better, to think before he acted, and here was tangible proof that he’d meant it.

“Was that… the right thing to do?” Sirius asked, nervously.

Remus propped himself on one elbow and sat up slightly, so he could look at Sirius. He nodded, “Yes, thank you. I honestly might have talked myself out of telling them.”

“I know.” Sirius mirrored Remus, leaning up on one elbow, one arm still slung around Remus’ waist. “I’ve always got your back, you know.”

Remus nodded, “Same here.”

“And I know you don’t want to hear it, but your scars aren’t grotesque. They’re mysterious and rugged and… they’re just part of you.” He looked down at Remus, whose eyes were focused somewhere over Sirius’s shoulder. “Moons.” Their eyes met. “Nobody gets to talk to you like that, ok?”

Remus nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off Sirius’, “Ok.” He whispered. “Fuck. You’re just… lovely.”

Sirius was silent for a moment, “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that about me before.”

“I have, you just weren’t around to hear it.” Remus tilted his head slightly as Sirius smiled. “I really appreciate you. Everything you do for me.”

Sirius closed his eyes and snuggled himself back under the blanket, pulling Remus to his chest again. “Take me out for a drink on Saturday.”

“Alright.” Remus fell asleep with a smile on his face.

[spinningwebsandtales]

DMC5 Guys Crushing On A Self-Conscious Half Devil FemReader Headcanons

Requested by @danielle-marie​

(A/N:) This one hit a little closer to home though I am not half devil. 🤣 I am a very self-conscious person and I’m trying to work on myself. Don’t get down on yourselves girlies y’all are made perfectly and who you are for a reason. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. ❤️ Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Dante X FemReader

Dante didn’t believe in love at first sight, until he met you.

You couldn’t figure out why Dante was giving you so much attention.

You never had the confidence in your looks and you honestly didn’t think any guy would ever want to even look your direction.

Especially if they figured out about you being a half blooded devil.

You hid that side of you well, but at times when your temper flares it’s harder to hide it.

One time you lost control causing your fingers to grow into claws and horns to sprout from your head.

Little kids screamed and parents chased you away.

It had been your worst nightmare and you didn’t go back out into public for months.

Now you avoided crowds and tried your best to steer clear of any human interaction.

Then Dante walked into your life and he kept striding past your barriers.

Then it happened, your half devil reappeared as you lost control in front of Dante.

You just knew he would abandon you after the incident but he only grew closer.

“Babe, I’m half devil. You think some claws and horns will drive me away? Buckle in toots you ain’t getting rid of me.”

Vergil X FemReader

Vergil is more aloof than his brother but he can’t deny the crush he has on you, though he doesn’t admit it out loud.

He doesn’t understand why you can’t see yourself the way he sees you.

Of course he still hasn’t admitted how he truly feels about you.

He can sense there’s something different about you, but you’re so good at hiding things that he can’t pinpoint it.

He doesn’t pry either.

You can’t tell people your true heritage. It would send most people packing that you have devil blood running through your veins.

Though you are only half it doesn’t take much for your other features to take over. 

With scaly wings, horns, claws, and fangs that transform every time you feel threatened.

You knew that Vergil out of everyone would understand, but you just can’t accept that side of yourself.

Then that fateful day happened, Vergil sensed a devil near by and it attacked you both.

Your devil blood sensing the danger caused you to transform.

After dispatching it Vergil really saw the part you were afraid of, where your self-conscious side came from and he was floored.

“You do know that I’m part devil too? I don’t like you hiding the side that gives you strength. Be proud of who you are.”

Nero X FemReader

Nero can tell that you are unsure of yourself. You hardly smile or let anyone in.

You keep everyone at arms length. Even him.

He stays up most nights wishing you could see yourself through his eyes, as you are perfect.

He’s the one with problems not you.

So what could you possibly hide from him that would make you feel like you aren’t worth anyone’s time?

He compliments you, but it just makes you retreat further.

You know Nero has seen everything horrible in life, you just can’t be that one thing that makes him say that’s enough and leaves.

You didn’t ask to be part devil. You didn’t ask for the claws that refused to transform back into human hands.

You didn’t ask for the small fangs that never seemed to go away.

You had such a hard time keeping the monster at bay and people could sense the danger whenever you were near.

You couldn’t bring yourself to make friends and then Nero barged in.

He could tell something was different about you and he hated that you never smiled and you always kept yourself covered.

He really hated it when you flinched if he tried to hold your hand.

Then he found out. He hadn’t meant to scare you or find out this way it just happened that way.

You were ashamed and Nero was not going to let you stay that way.

“I’m quarter devil, my dad is the ultimate jerk. But I know exactly how you feel. I once had an arm I thought I had to hide until I learned that it wasn’t that big of a deal. It doesn’t define who you are. I think it’s awesome and I think you’re beautiful just the way you are.”

V X FemReader

V doesn’t understand how you can feel so self-conscious. To him you’re absolutely perfect.

He tells you so as well but you just brush his compliments off.

How could anyone like him like someone that has tainted devil blood flowing through her veins?

You’re really good at hiding the side you don’t want others to see but at times you can lose control.

So far you have kept it well hidden as you don’t really go out in public much.

You don’t want to be known as the freak to anyone else, your horrified by yourself enough.

You don’t want complete strangers to find your devil blood appalling.

And you definitely don’t want V to know, you couldn’t deal with him leaving you just because of who you are.

The claws, scaly skin, and fangs that only seemed to come out when you were scared or angry would make even the toughest person cower.

Then one day V found out.

You had lost your temper and transformed right in front of him.

You waited for the screaming or cursing.

But none ever came.

V took your hand, careful of the sharp nails that had taken over and he smiled gently.

“Don’t think you can scare me with such beauty as this? Don’t hide your true nature from me. It hurts me more that you don’t accept yourself than any other painful wound a man can gain.”

[heroesriseandfall]

Dick Grayson & Tim Drake: A Photograph

A photo of my family and you’re in it.

Comic sources:

Batman #441

Secret Origins #50

Batman #436

Batman #436

Batman #441

Batman #441

Secret Origins #50

Secret Origins 80-Page Giant #1, “Little Wing”

Secret Origins 80-Page Giant #1, “Little Wing” [edited]

Secret Origins 80-Page Giant #1, “Little Wing”

Secret Origins #50

Detective Comics #965

52 #31, “The Origin of Robin”

Batman #441 - Cover by George Pérez

Red Robin #12

Secret Origins 80-Page Giant #1, “Little Wing”

Batman #440

Image descriptions in alt text are also copied below read more.

1. Two comic panels from Batman #441 showing 13-year old Tim Drake sitting in a chair at Wayne Manor, with Dick Grayson in front of him and Alfred Pennyworth standing beyond that. They all have serious expressions on their faces. Tim says, “Okay, you won’t take me seriously until I tell you everything. Dick, I don’t want this to hurt you. And I’m really afraid it might.” Dick says, “Tim, just tell your story, please.” Tim reaches into his jacket as if to grab something and says, “All right, all right. Well, first, my name’s Tim Drake…and though you won’t remember it, we’ve met before. I’ve even got a photograph to prove it.”

2. Text from Secret Origins (1986) #50 that says: A woman with a small boy in the front of the grandstand waved to him. All three Graysons trotted to her. “This is Tim’s first time at the circus,” she said, patting the boy’s thin shoulder, “and we were wondering if you’d let us take your photo with him.” “Of course,” Mother replied, smiling. “We’d be delighted.”

3. Comic panels from Batman #436 showing John and Mary Grayson in their yellow, green, and red circus costumes as they walk through the circus with a young Dick Grayson between them. John says, “Dick, I’ve got those tickets for the baseball game monday.” Dick grins up at him and says, “You really got ‘em? Wow! I can’t believe I’m actually going to the World Series.” Someone off-panel says, “Umm, excuse us for interrupting, but—” The Drakes walk right up to the Graysons. Janet is in a pink day dress and Jack is in a suit, holding a very young Tim Drake in his arms. Janet says, “This is Tim’s first time at a circus, and we were wondering if you’d let us take your photo with him?” Mary Grayson puts her hands on Dick’s shoulders as Dick grins up at little Tim, who smiles down at him in response. Mary says, “Of course…we’d be delighted.” They all pose for a picture with the crowds behind them. Jack and Janet stand between John and Mary, while Dick kneels in the front holding young Tim up on his knee. He looks down at Tim, who looks back, and with a smile, Dick says, “Tim, say cheese.”

4. A comic panel from Batman #436 showing Alfred Pennyworth’s hands holding out and gesturing towards a photo as he says, “Gentlemen, and ladies—the very last photo of the Grayson family together. One last moment of happiness.” The photo shows the Grayson and Drake families together in the same poses as the previous image. John and Mary Grayson stand on either side of Jack and Janet Drake, while Dick kneels on one knee with his other knee up, where he is holding young Tim to sit on the knee. The parents are looking forewards, but Dick and Tim are looking at each other. The Graysons are all in their circus costumes, but the Drakes are in suits and Janet a dress.

5. A comic page from Batman #441. The first panel shows Tim Drake, who is sitting in a chair at Wayne Manor and holding up a photo of the Drakes with the Flying Graysons while Dick Grayson is standing in front of Tim’s chair. Tim says, “This was taken on my first trip to the circus—on the day I saw Batman for the first time...On the day your parents were killed.” Dick Grayson looks shocked, and takes the photo as he says, “Oh, my god—my parents.” Alfred Pennyworth, standing behind Dick, says, “I—I know this photograph, that’s you?” Tim looks up at them and says, “Uh-huh. After Bruce Wayne made you his ward, my parents sent it to you. They thought you’d want it. I was only a kid, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget what happened. I had nightmares about it for years. First about your parents, then about Batman. I kept seeing this dark black thing that swooped out of the sky. No, no—let me start at the beginning.” The scene changes to a gold-toned memory of the Drakes walking through Haly’s Circus. Janet is in a light dress, holding Jack’s arm as they grin at each other. Jack is in a suit, holding a young Tim who is also in a suit and has a big smile on his face as he reaches towards a passing Clown. Janet says, “I think you were right, honey—he loves it. Look at him laughing at everything.” Jack replies, “Hey, I said he wasn’t too young.” Janet says, “Okay, I was wrong. But sometimes circuses can frighten kids.” The Drakes walk through the circus, toward where you can see the Flying Graysons walking together. Janet continues, “They’re loud and rowdy, and I remember when I was Timothy’s age I was scared by people wearing costumes. Sue me. I'm a mother. I worry.” Jack says, “You were a girl. Tim’s a boy. That’s the difference.” Janet smiles up at Jack and says, “Sexism, dear? And here I thought you were liberated.” Jack follows Tim’s eyesight toward the smiling Flying Graysons as they walk past, then says, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Look, if you’re so worried, there’re a couple of the performers. Let’s take him over there. He’ll see they’re people just like him.”

6. A comic page from Batman #441 showing a gold-toned memory scene with the Flying Graysons, all in acrobatics costumes remniscent of the Robin suit, and the Drakes, who are wearing formal dress. Mary and John are smiling at Dick walking between them as Dick excitedly says, “—I’m actually going to the world series?” Beyond him, Janet and Jack Drake are walking up to them, with Jack holding a very young smiling Tim in his arms. Jack says, “Umm, excuse us for interrupting, but this is Tim’s first time at the circus…and we were wondering if you’d let us take your photo with him?” The two families pose, with Dick on one knee with Tim Drake sitting on his other knee, held up by Dick’s arms. Tim stares at Dick in wonder as Dick smiles at him and says, “Tim, say cheese.” 13-year-old Tim speaks through a narration box to say, “Maybe I knew you were just a kid like me, but I kept staring at you, and your circus costume. It was bright red and green and you seemed so happy in it.” In the memory, Dick pats Tim’s head as he gets ready to leave, and says, “Watch me on the trapeze, Tim. I’m going to do my act—‘specially for you. Be good now.” Then the scene returns to the present, in regular color, showing 13-year-old Tim sitting in Wayne Manor while Alfred and Dick look at him. Tim says, “I don’t remember the clowns or the animals, or anything else. I just remember waiting for you to go on. And then, when you did, I just sat there and watched.”

7. Text from Secret Origins #50 that says: The photo was snapped and the Graysons returned to the darkness of the backstage area and did the stretching exercises Johnny Grayson insisted precede every performance. On the other side of the canvas wall, the crowd was laughing and applauding the clowns’ fireman routine. They heard the ringmaster’s round baritone, amplified and distorted by the loud speakers, booming through the tent. “Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages—for your entertainment and amusement, doing their death-defying act without benefit of a net—” Johnny kissed his wife and ruffled his son’s hair.

8. A comic panel from Secret Origins 80-Page Giant #1, the fourth story, showing Tim Drake and Dick Grayson sitting on a couch in Dick Grayson’s apartment. Tim is on the left wearing a pink and purple Gotham Knights jersey with a matching hat. He’s pointing at Dick, who’s turned to listen attentively to Tim while wearing a white tank top and gray sweats as he clicks a TV remote. Tim says, “Dick, meeting you—and him—have been the single most defining moments of my life.” The scene changes to the memory of the Drakes and the Flying Graysons posing together in Haly’s Circus while someone who is just a silhouette takes a photo of them. John and Mary are standing on either side of Jack and Janet with wide smiles, each in their red, yellow, and green acrobatics outfits. John’s and Dick’s outfits look particularly remniscent of the Robin outfit. Dick is kneeled in front of the parents with one knee up where young Tim is sitting on his thigh, smiling and looking at Dick. 14-year-old Tim narrates this memory by saying, “Some days I wish I could go back to feeling like that. You promised me that you’d do a quadruple somersault. And you delivered. It was the best day of my life. And then your parents died.”

9. An edited comic panel from Secret Origins 80-Page Giant #1 of very young Tim Drake with his father’s arm on his shoulder, both looking up at John and Mary Grayson falling. John and Mary are in their red, yellow, and green acrobatics costumes, knees bent and arms stretched with one part of hands barely touching. Behind them, their acrobatic lines are snapping. Crowds in the large tent are yelling and pointing up at them. Tim’s face is not visible but he’s clearly watching them fall.

10. A comic panel from Secret Origins 80-Page Giant #1 of nine-year-old Tim Drake staring at a TV screen, on which Robin is visible mid-flip, arms holding his legs tucked in. The Penguin is croached with his back turned to Robin, directly in position for Robin to land on him. Audio from the TV is saying, “Wanted for theft of the Lapis Lazuli Horus Crown, the so-called Penguin was apprehended by the Batman and a young costumed vigilante…” 13-year-old Tim narrates the memory of his younger self, saying: “You gave yourself away with the quad. The ringmaster told the crowd at Haly’s that only three people alive could pull off a jump like that—you and a pair of Russian gymnasts that defected from the Bolshoi to Ringing Brothers. I knew it was you.” Off-panel, Dick Grayson responds to Tim’s recollection by saying, ”Incredible. A nine-year-old kid figures out the best-kept secret on the planet.” In the memory, just beyond young Tim in the background are Jack and Janet Drake at a table, with Jack looking like he’s speaking angrily.

11. Text from Secret Origins #50 that says: Below, the ringmaster was saying, “Ladies and gentlemen, quiet, please, as young Dick Grayson attempts the in-credible…im-possible…quadruple flip of doom!” Dick breathed deeply and slowly, relaxing himself as Johnny had taught him, grabbed the bar, pushed off the platform, letting momentum carry him— But was something wrong? The trapeze didn’t feel right. —and allowed his mind to empty, and there were the few dizzy, exhilarating instants: spin spin spin spin. Feet thudding onto the platform. Roar of applause. Mother’s warm fingers touching his cheek. Ringmaster’s boom: “Let’s hear it, ladies and gentlemen—dauntless Dick Grayson, the boy wonder of the circus!”

12. A comic page from Detective Comics #965 showing a warm-toned scene of 13-year-old Tim Drake talking to a gobsmacked Dick Grayson in Wayne Manor. Tim says, “C’mon, Dick—that flip you did as Robin. It was a quadruple somersault. The circus ringmaster said only three people could do that.” Tim holds up a photo of the Drakes with the Flying Graysons, and continues, “I knew that somersault. Knew it like I knew my own name.” Tim smiles and says, “And it all made sense. Batman showed up at the circus and took you with him. About six months later, Robin made his first appearance. If you were Robin, and you were Bruce Wayne’s ward—I realized Bruce Wayne was batman.” The scene zooms out to show Tim sitting in a chair as Dick and Alfred Pennyworth stare at him. Tim says, “I don’t want to say the rest was easy, because you guys really covered your tracks. But if you go in knowing Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson are Batman and Robin, well, you can find the clues to prove it.”

13. Comic panels from 52 #31, 2nd story, “The Origin of Robin.” 9-year-old Tim Drake is shown from the back, sitting on the floor staring at a TV screen that shows Dick Grayson as Robin, flipping through the air. Tim’s face is reflected in the TV screen, showing his awestruck smile. Various objects are scattered on the floor in front of Tim, including pizza, books, and a magnifying glass. Orange narration boxes say, “The eyes of a fan caught a moment the rest of the world had overlooked. Tim Drake—and Tim Drake alone—had grown up fascinated by the career of an obscure and forgotten child acrobat named Dick Grayson—but when Tim saw Batman’s partner Robin perform Grayson’s signature gymnastic moves, something clicked in Tim’s mind.” The next panel shows Tim in a trenchcoat, expression awestruck as he shines a flashlight through a glass case in which a pristine Robin costume is hanging. The narration boxes continue, “Over the next few years, Tim—through a series of clues and lucky breaks—proved conclusively that Grayson was Robin…or, rather, had been.”

14. George Pérez’s cover art for Batman #441, cropped to focus on the lower half. Dick Grayson, in civilian clothing, is standing in the forefront of the image, with the 80’s Batcave looming around him. He’s looking down with a pensive expression at the Robin costume held in his hands. Behind to the right, Tim Drake (also in civilian clothing) is standing with photographs falling out of his hands in front of Dick’s shoes. The closest photo shows the Flying Graysons posing with the Drake family. The next closest two photos are of Robin and Batman. Beyond Dick and the photos, to the left, is Alfred Pennyworth. Up at the top, partially cropped away, are Batman and Two Face’s lower faces, with a scene of a bridge by Batman’s face and a flipping coin with a scene of Gemini casinio behind it right next to Two Face’s face. In the Batcave, the giant penny, the T-rex, and the massive batcomputer are all on prominent display.

15. Comic panels from Red Robin #12 of Dick Grayson talking to Tim Drake with a blurry aquamarine Batcave behind them. Dick is wearing the chestplate of the Batman suit but no cowl, as he looks intensely (with the slightest smile) toward Tim, who is shirtless, revealing long pink scratches and scars along his shoulder and cheek. Tim, looking up at Dick, says, “Ra’s—” Dick says, “Gone. We swept the place and got nothing. You want to tell me what that was all about?” Tim replies, “It’s...a little complicated. But I think we’re good for a while.” Dick says, “How’d you know? How did you know I’d be there to save you?” Tim smiles up at Dick as he says, “You’re my brother, Dick. You’ll always be there for me.”

16. A comic panel from Secret Origins 80-Page Giant #1 showing Tim drake and Dick Grayson sitting on the couch in Dick’s apartment. Dick is reaching over to mess with Tim’s hair as Tim laughs and leans away, raising his hands to jokingly defend against Dick. Behind them in the apartment is a desk with a computer whose screen is lit up with a woman’s sketchy face. Dick says, “Got a friend visiting.” Barbara Gordon, over Dick’s computer audio, asks, “Anyone I know?” Dick says, “Little brother.”

17. Cropped art from Batman #440 of a cool-toned photograph with the Flying Graysons and the Drake family posing together. The Flying Graysons are all in their acrobatics outfits. John and Dick Grayson’s outfits are styled similarly, looking like a mix of the original Robin suit and Tim Drake’s first Robin suit. John and Mary are stood to either side of the smiling Jack and Janet Drake. Jack is in a suit and his hands are resting on Janet’s arms. Janet is wearing a day dress. In front of all the parents, Dick Grayson is down on one knee, with his left knee up so little Tim Drake can be perched on his thigh. Tim is in a a suit, similar to his father, and he’s looking up at Dick with a broad, awestruck smile. Dick is holding Tim in place with his arms, and instead of looking toward the camera like the parents are, he’s meeting Tim’s eyes with a smile. Behind them all, the crowds of Haly’s Circus are vaguely visible. In the corner by Dick’s right left, 13-year-old Tim Drake’s thumb is resting on the photograph, as if he’s holding it.

[selineram3421]

Petit Lapin Blanc

Part 3

Part 2

Alastor and Human Child Reader

:Platonic:

Warning! ⚠

⚠ cussing, implied murder, welp-you went through a portal for sure! ⚠

~

You tried to avoid stepping on the cracks as you walked on the sidewalk.

Alastor didn't mind the little game you decided to entertain yourself with and even helped you at times by lifting you up from the ground a bit.

It distracted you long enough that you didn't notice that you had now arrived.

"We're here little one.", the man in red said.

Looking forward, you saw a big building with a hotel sign.

"What does Hazbin mean?", you asked looking up at him and pointing at the building.

"Let's go inside and ask.", he said with a smile and picked you up.

The man in red pushed the double doors open with one hand with enough force that they hit the walls.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your favorite radio host has returned!", he announced and waltzed into the hotel.

"Ah shit.", a grumpy sounding voice said.

Looking over, you saw a cat with wings behind a counter, cleaning a cup with a rag.

"Tsk tsk! Husker, there is a child!", Alastor scolded.

"He said a bad word!", you whispered and covered your rabbit's ears.

Someone else walked into the room and pulled out a spear.

"Oh hell no! Put the child down!", the white haired person yelled out and pointed it at both of you.

"Hn!", you turned away to hide your face, closing your eyes and held the stuffed rabbit tighter.

"Vagatha~"

There was a loud buzzing noise, like the one you hear from the radio.

"You're scaring them.", the red man says and pats your back.

A little bit of time passed before the static sound went away. You peek over your shoulder and see that the lady now had her spear pointing away from you.

"Put. Them. Down.", she said, still looking angry at Alastor.

He sighs and does as told, letting you stand on your own, but you look up at him worriedly.

"I'll have you know that I did not kidnap or harm this child.", he says and fixes his suit.

"Bulls-!", the lady starts but stops herself and takes a deep breath before letting it out. "Ok. Let's say its true. Where did you find them and how did they get here?"

"A very excellent question!", the man in red says cheerfully. "I found this one watching the picture show of a rabbit! However, I do not know how they got here."

She groans and slides her free hand down her face, stopping it just above her mouth. "Fine! Ok, we'll wait for Charlie to get back from brunch with her Mom before figuring all this out.", the lady says waving her hand around.

With your feet still hurting from all the walking you did earlier, you turn to the red man and lift your arms up with a firm and serious face.

"Up!"

The two demon staff jaws drop.

Did this human child want to die? Ordering and demanding the Radio Demon for..uppies?

Breaths were held back as he stared down at the child with a growing smile. Leaning forward with his claws reaching down and-!

He picked the human up like they asked.

Jaws were dropped lower than before.

Did one of the most strongest demons just...obey a child's order?

.

Hank got you out in the morning. Checking over you for any scratches before taking you downstairs for breakfast.

While eating, you heard Mary yelling and then a door slam.

The older man came back into the kitchen. "I'm going to work. I won't be back till five.", he said and pat your head. "If my wife tries anything bad, run to my office."

Office? You thought and turned to ask where it was, but he already left.

Then Mary came back into the room, tugging you out of the chair and outside into the garden. Pushing you onto the ground, tossing a little shovel at your feet along with a packet of pink flowers.

"Go plant my roses.", she glared down at you.

"I don't know how to plant things.", you said looking up at her confused.

She got angry and yelled at you.

Hours later, you were lying in bed trying to go to sleep. The clothes Mary made you wear were uncomfortable. Eventually, your blinking got slower and you closed your eyes.

Creak

Then there was a whisper shout.

"Shh! Shut the fuck up!"

"No one said anything sir.", another voice whispered.

"Not you dumbass, the floor!", the first voice replied. "Damn thing is creaking!"

"Walk along the sides! The middle parts are the creakiest.", a feminine voice said.

You sat up confused, holding your bunny close.

The footsteps were light but they were getting closer to your room. As quietly as you could, you got out of bed and made it look neat before hiding under it.

Keeping your breathing small and low, you watched as your door opened.

"No one's in here.", the second voice you heard said.

"Oh gee, thanks for the obvious Moxxie.", the first voice said. "Come on! We gotta kill that old bitch. She's probably down the hall."

The three walked away, leaving your door open.

Crawling out from under the bed carefully, you carried your stuffed toy to the doorway and remembered what the feminine voice said. Walking on your toes close to the wall, the floor boards didn't creak and you made it to the stairs.

"How do we wanna do this?", the feminine voice asked.

You heard it coming from the door on the other side of the hallway.

"We can lodge something in her throat and call it a day.", said the first voice.

You sat on the stairs, going down little by little.

"That'll look too weird. It has to be something believable.", the second voice said.

Once you got downstairs, the voices weren't that loud anymore and you looked around for Hanks office.

"Aah!", Mary's scream made you jump and run.

The voices upstairs got louder.

Banging and other loud noises had you run into the closest room. It was scary. Before you could hide, you saw a glowing circle appear. Walking over, you put your hand through it. Not feeling anything different, you walked into the new place and looked around.

"Nope.", a new voice said.

Looking over you saw a wolf? With long fur on top of their head. Red where the white is supposed to be in the eyes.

You looked at them for a little bit longer.

"We're back Loonie!", the first voice said.

They were tall, red with white spots and covered in more red stuff, two more red ones came through the same glowing circle.

"Ugh, I can't believe we had to take both of them out.", the second voice said, they had white hair.

One of them spotted you.

"Uh, Blitz?", said the feminine voice, who had black hair.

"I know Millie, you and Moxxie want alone time, but I'll be there watching you guys like always.", the first voice said.

"Sir-!"

"Blitz!", they ran over and turned the taller one's head to face you.

You held your stuffed rabbit closer.

"Oh shit-!",the tall one got a big blue book and ran over to you.

And then everything went dark.

~

What the fuck urban dictionary. That is not what I meant. Read their definition for uppies at your own discretion.

~Seline, the person.

Part 4

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @stolas-thebirb @c4rved-pumpk1n @naelys-the-aster @scary-noodlesblog

🐇 ChL | ML for Alastor🎙

[notyour-valentine]

Welcome to Downton, Mr Shelby 13 ~ Tommy Shelby x Crawley!OC (Series)

[Masterlist] [Taglist] [Series Masterlist]

Summary: Derby Day - what could go wrong?

If interested, you can check out this post for more about Charlotte

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption.I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Wordcount: 5400 words

Part 13

“What does love feel like?”, she asked Sybil, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “Why are you asking?”

Charlotte glanced down at her lap before answering, seeing her hands fidget on their own accord. 

“I want to know.”

“Why are you asking me?”, Sybil wanted to know, as she sat down next to her. 

“Because you love Tom Branson.”

It wasn’t an accusation, just a statement of fact. And perhaps, after days of hearing how it was just a fancy, that she didn’t - couldn’t - really love him, seeing Charlotte accept her feelings was what made her answer. 

“It’s strange, really.”, Sybil said. “You think about them even when you’re not thinking. You hear their voice in your head as if they were sitting right beside you. You knew what they would say or think or how they would react to something that is happening around you, but these thoughts come on their own.”

Her voice was so soft and dreamy as she spoke, almost as if she wanted to lull Charlotte to sleep. 

“It’s not a conscious choice to be reminded of them, but everything somehow does, as if they were the sun and the world had begun to revolve around them.”

So Tom Branson is the sun?

“It sounds rather invasive.”, Charlotte mumbled. “But it’s not- at least it doesn’t feel that way.”, Sybil argued at once. “It’s comforting really, because sometimes the person you love feels like the only person who knows you.”

Hearing that hurt, after all Charlotte knew Sybil as much as anyone could, and Mary and Edith have known her since the day of her birth, as had Mama and Papa. 

Surely Branson, no matter how Sybil liked or even loved him, couldn’t know her better than they did. 

“They also inspire you to be the best version of yourself - the true version of yourself. The you without limitations, and maybe the you were trying to hide.”

Charlotte doubted Sir Richard was bringing out the ‘her’ Mary was trying to hide, nor exactly the best version of her. She was just Mary- the way she had been with the Duke and she hadn’t loved him. 

Not that she was the best judge of love. Or any judge on anything remotely romantic unless it was taking place between the softly bound covers of a romance novel. 

Then again, in these novels, especially the dangerously raunchy ones, weeks of pining, fo sleepless nights, fluttering stomachs and shaking hands all culminated in the purest and most devastating expression of love that was a kiss. 

Or was supposed to be. It wasn’t like she had the experience to warrant a literary exploration of the subject on her own, but the last time she had shared a kiss with someone, she had felt so much, she thought she would combust - the thrill of the forbidden, the fear of being caught, the disbelief in the fact that someone actually wanted to kiss her, and that she wanted to kiss someone too.. And that were her thoughts alone, not the butterflies in her belly, not the softness of his lips and the smile they formed after, not the way his hand searched for the side of her face, as always as gentle as a butterfly’s wing, fleeting traces at first, and then the warmth of his palm that lingered after he had pulled away. 

She hadn’t been sure that that was love, but it had taught her heartbreak. 

This time there were no butterflies, no fear, no excitement, not even the knowledge she was doing something forbidden. It was beyond inappropriate, being seen kissing in broad daylight, and then a man she was neither engaged nor married to. 

Instead, all her mind could summon was “Oh-”

A realisation of what he was doing, followed by the rather important question of “why?”. 

Her own absence of emotion surprised her, especially since it seemed to be such a significant thing to him. She yet remembered how he leaned his forehead against hers, how his breath had shuddered, and his hands trembled. 

For a moment he had held her such, his hands cradling the side of her face, before he had stroked his thumb over her cheekbones. 

“I have to go now.”, he had told her, his voice thick with an emotion she couldn’t place, let alone hope to return. With another short kiss to her brow he had disappeared, something that filled her with immense gratitude since she had not the faintest idea of how to react to that. 

In the days that passed between then and now, she had given the question of why people kiss great thought. Beyond her own experience, she had seen it in only a few examples. Of course, her Mama and her Papa kissed, but she mostly only saw it on greeting or departing, or in moments they stole when they thought no one was watching. On the lips that was, her father was quite fond of kissing her hand too. She had seen Sybil kiss Branson, but that wasn’t exactly an appropriate example, although there was a little Lady Marion and Robin Hood to it all. If Robin Hood’s friends set fire to Nottingham Castle and gave the money to the Irish. 

Once when she had been little she had seen a maid kiss a footman, both long gone from their service, and once she had seen Anna and Mr Bates share an embrace from her window. Another greeting between those already certain of their feelings. 

Why Tommy Shelby thought to kiss her was a mystery to him. It did make things a whole lot more complicated and left a bitter taste in her mouth, and it was especially harsh since she lacked Sybil’s advice. She was so far away. 

And it wasn’t like she could ask her other sisters. Edith did not have a lucky hand in love, and Mary, well, whatever in love was, it certainly wasn’t a term to describe her and Sir Richard. 

Although they both made a valiant effort, him especially, but she knew her sister well enough to know it was icy between them, even in the suffocating heat. Beside her, Edith groaned. 

“I didn’t remember it being this hot.”, she complained, flapping air towards herself with her fan. 

“I wouldn’t know.”, Charlotte said. This was her very first race season. Before the war, she had been too young and during the war, they hadn’t gone. 

But since the season had resumed, so had the race attendance. 

Edith was right, it was impossibly hot, and even in an all white dress, with a white hat and white shawl to cover her bare shoulders, she had to fight the heat with her fan - also white to match the rest. It was a colour scheme that was carried throughout their part of their enclosure. It was separate from the grand-stands, and only for guests with name or title. 

There was so much to see - the race course, naturally, but also the many, many people who had come to watch and cheer, the betting stands and bars below. Not that they were allowed to go there. Hospitality took care of them. 

“Charlotte, Edith, darlings,”, Mama said, gesturing them closer, “stay a little in the shade, will you? I don’t want you getting a headache.”

“Of course.”,  she agreed. 

Although that might save her from the planned meal at Sir Richard’s later. She had to be polite and kind for Mary’s sake, but that didn’t mean she had to like him. 

Right now, he was bragging to Mary about all the bets he had laid on the horses. Charlotte didn’t know much about racehorses, how could she? 

But she was looking forward to seeing them - so tall and proud and strong. 

Only until the race started, there were a lot of greetings that had to be exchanged, a near endless list of people to be introduced to and an infinite number of courtesies to be exchanged. 

The heat didn’t exactly help make that more durable. Everyone said the same things. Unfortunately for her, she was still a topic of interest, as a debutante and a fresh face, with Edith, who kept her company, sadly being unable to take much of it away from her. 

“I just need a minute.”, she whispered softly, after one particularily keen Viscount had taken his leave. 

“Do you want me to come with you?”, Edith asked, but she shook her head and took her absence with a squeeze of her hand. 

She walked all the way to the edge of the balcony, to where the waiters were loading champagne glasses on a tray. 

One drink will probably kill me in this weather, she thought, and instead opted to look down at the ring below. 

People there looked to be far more excited, far more at ease than them up here. 

There were so many of them - hundreds upon hundreds. Charlotte tried to think if she had ever been to an event with this many people crowded into one place. Each and every figure she saw had their own mind, their own name and family and fate, their own reasons for being here today and their own loved ones they could come home to. 

It was rather overwhelming - so many, so very many and just one her. 

But then she spotted something, a man, in a long dark coat, too far away for her to make out his face, but she didn’t have to. Why should she, if she noticed the walk?

Charlotte couldn’t help the wide smile that came to her lips at once. 

Tommy. 

He was headed in the direction of their hospitality, or close rather, and with every step he took, her heart began to beat faster. Then the memory of their last interaction came back and made her smile drop, taking with it the excitement of possibly introducing the man whose foundation she helped build to her family to finally get their approval for her work. It would be wise not to mention the kiss - and if she told Tommy that, he too may forget it ever happened and they would all be able to go on as they had, working together on a real project. 

This was just the plan! Besides, she could introduce him to the other guests too. That wouldn’t hurt his business. 

Glancing over her shoulder, she rushed towards the exit of the hospitality and began to rush down the stairs. 

She passed four sets of security officers, who all gave her funny looks, but didn’t stop her. They weren’t allowed to talk to her after all. 

Once she was down, she had to weave her way past a few race goers to reach him. 

He didn’t seem to care for any of the surroundings, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on something ahead of him. 

“Tommy!", She called once she came into earshot. “Tommy!”

His head piqued up, but there was no smile on his lips, no light in his eye- nothing. 

Instead he just stared at her as if he didn’t recognise her. 

"How wonderful to see you!”, she said, offering him a wide smile, in spite of the pit in her stomach. Perhaps she had miscalculated drastically. Then again, what reason would he have to wish to avoid her when he had been the initiator during their last encounter? 

"You're here?", He asked breathlessly. 

"Of course I am.", She said. "We all came, it’s the first race of the season and Papa said we could go.”

As she spoke, she looked up at the balcony of the enclosure. 

"I could introduce you if you like.", she offered. 

"Introduce me?", He asked as if he didn't understand a word she was saying, as if the language was foreign to him. 

"Yes, my parents would surely be most interested in meeting you.” 

He shook his head, swallowing hard. 

"No, no, Charlotte.", He said under his breath, his pale blue eyes glancing around as if he was searching for something. 

"But why not?”, she demanded to know, trying not to sound as disappointed as she was. 

"This is not a good time. I have things to do."

"Aren’t you here to enjoy the race?”

What other things were there to do at a race track?

He didn’t say. Instead, his eyes danced around impatiently. 

“Tommy are you quite alright?"

He didn't respond. Instead he licked his lips, took her by the arm and pulled her up the stairs. 

"That's your family? Over there?", He said breathlessly, pointing at them. 

"Yes, do you want me to introduce-"

"No!", He insisted sharply. "No, that blonde one? The tall one that's your cousin, yeah?"

His tone was rougher than she was used to, coming from him. “That’s your cousin, Captain Crawley”

She was surprised to hear him using his military title. He didn’t like anything to do with the military, and Matthew hadn’t been a Captain since the war ended, and hadn’t introduced himself as such. Why would he know his rank?

“Well, yes, Matthew.”

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her around to face him. His grip was uncommonly tight. 

"You stay close to him, you hear me? Promise me you'll stay close to him."

His eyes were wider than usual, and although he didn't show more emotion than usual, there was something about his voice that made her skin crawl, something that made her heart skip a beat. 

"Tommy, whatever's the matter?", She demanded to know. 

He took a deep breath and came even closer, so close that she could smell the lingering scent of an already-smoked cigarette. 

One of his hands found her cheek. 

"Promise me you'll stay close to your Captain.”

“But-”

“Charlotte, I need you to promise me.”, he snarled. “I’ll try to find you after the race and if not, I’ll call you tonight.”

She swallowed hard and nodded. 

"Good. Now go, go!"

The police officers let her through without a word but with suspicious glances. 

It was as if his uneasiness had washed over her, even once she was with her family once more.

"What has gotten you so pale, Poppet?", Mama asked, putting an arm on her back. “Is it the heat?”

She waved for a lemonade. 

Sipping it, Charlotte’s eyes scanned the track below, trying to find something - anything - that would be amiss. He wasn’t like that for no reason. Something must have happened. Something must have him concerned. It couldn’t have been the kiss, surely? 

Maybe something is wrong with his horse. 

But she saw nothing, no one, and his horse was brought to the starting line. 

Before the race started, she moved up next to Matthew, Tommy’s instructions ringing in her head. 

He had been in quite a mood today, but didn’t seem to mind her company. 

The gunshot rang through the air and the horses began to race, and yet she still couldn't look at them. Instead she looked at everything else, even as all around her the people cheered. 

Then she felt commotion- it wasn't that she saw it, not at first, but she felt the shift of energy all around her as if someone had clicked a switch. 

Soon after, Matthew noticed too, his head peeking up and his eyes dancing around the ring below. 

Then, he suddenly stepped away from the balcony and towards the exit. Charlotte followed suit, but by the time she reached Matthew, he had already returned from speaking to the police officer. 

"What is going on?", She asked him, taking his arm.  

"Nothing.", He lied, and very poorly at that, guiding her back to the group. Charlotte, however, saw that only two policemen remained at the entrance of the group. 

Stay close to him. 

"Matthew, where have all the policemen gone?"

He swallowed hard and gave her arm a little squeeze. "Everything is fine."

It's not, she thought as her eyes darted over everything that was happening below. It's not fine. 

She had no clue what was happening but she knew it had to do with Tommy. She just felt it deep down in her bones. 

Absentmindedly, her fingers brushed against her dress, where Sybil’s pearl pendant lay beneath. 

But the race went on, and the people, most people, even Mama and Papa, Edith and Sir Richard were watching and cheering. Only she knew she and Matthew and Mary who had caught them both looking and was now equally confused. 

There was loud cheering as the race concluded, followed by celebratory drinks and the like, but Charlotte could only stand at the edge of the balcony, staring down at the ring. 

She knew there was something she was missing, but even as the stands began to clear, she couldn’t say what it was. 

“Charlotte?”, she heard a booming voice from below. “Oi, Charlotte, that’s you up there, eh?”

She recognised the voice at once, but it took her a while to find the person that spoke. 

Only when she heard Arthur Shelby curse “Get the fuck off me!”,  and saw the ring of commotion did she realise he was on the steps already. 

They wouldn’t let him in, they wouldn’t let anyone in. 

“Charlotte, come ‘ere love, we need your help!”, he said, gesturing at her to come down. 

She glanced back at where her family was sitting and standing with drinks. “A moment’s all we need, come ‘ere”, Arthur Shelby repeated. 

There was a burning in his eyes, that made her rush towards the exit. 

“Ma’am, you shouldn’t leave the enclosure.”, the police officer warned. “It’s not safe out there.”

Arthur growled at the man as he took her arm. 

“She’s safer with us than you!”

They were walking so swiftly, she had trouble keeping up. “What’s going on?”, she asked him breathlessly. “Is everything alright.? Has something happened with Tommy?”

“Wha- yeah, Tommy is Tommy, he’ll be fine.”, he growled. "Wherever the fuck he is."

That was not at all reassuring, especially given his use of profanities. They made her flinch each time. 

He hurried her past tables and chairs with empty glasses and tipped over bottles until they reached the edge of the circut. 

“What the bloody hell are you doing, Arthur?”, the familiar voice of John Shelby asked. “What is she doing here?”

“She’s the only one who can go in there.”, he said. “The only woman here we know.” “Go where?”, Charlotte asked. 

John spat on the floor. “What happened?”, she demanded to know, glancing at each of them in turn. 

All of this made her skin crawl, from the distress in the crowd, the swearing and the fact that John was as keen as ever to be in her company. 

For a moment, both Shelby brothers stared at each other, and she knew they were having a silent deliberation. 

“Fine.”, John finally spat, beckoning her closer. Only now did she realise that they were close to the facilities. 

“Lizzie’s in there and she won’t come out. Just get her to come out and don’t ask stupid questions.”

He had always been dismissive and rude to her but now he had an urgency in his voice.

“Miss Stark?”, she asked. 

“Please.”, John sneered, although it was clear he didn’t like saying it. 

This is why Arthur took me? For the emergency that Lizzie Stark wasn’t leaving the facilities? It almost sounded like a bad joke to her, but she was here now and so she nodded and walked towards the facilities, passing the security guard standing by to ensure order. 

Charlotte walked inside. By now, it was nearly deserted, her heels echoing on the wooden ground. 

The first door was open, as was the second, and the third and even the fourth. The fifth, the one furthest away from the door was the only one locked. 

But behind it, there was silence. 

Charlotte took a deep breath and stepped closer to the stall door. “Miss Stark?”, she asked softly. “It’s me, Charlotte Crawley.”

“Go away.”, she snapped. But it wasn’t an angry voice. It was strained and tense and Charlotte swore she heard a sniffle too. 

“The Shelbys are outside. They are worried about you and they sent me to fetch you.” “Fuck them!”, she spat, her voice trembling, followed by a shuddering breath. 

Charlotte flinched slightly, the palm of her hand against the door. 

“Miss Stark? Is everything alright?”

The stall door was opened with such force, Charlotte jumped back. “Does it look fucking alright to you?”, she screamed at her in a tone that made her flinch worse than teh swearing had done. 

Charlotte’s eyes widened as she saw the cut on her brow and the blood on her cheek. The top of her dress had been ripped and she had lost her hat, leaving her hair in a tangled mess. 

Her eyes were red from crying, smudging the dark makeup around them. 

A hand flew to her mouth. “I’ll call the nurses!”, she insisted and had already turned, when a bruising iron grip clasped her wrist, pulling her back. “No!”, she hissed. “No fucking nurses. And no fucking Shelbys!”

More tears spilled out of the corner of her eyes, spreading the dark makeup around her eyes further, and her voice cracked as she said their name. Then, in a split second, the fury seemed to abandon her, leaving her weak and hurting almost like a lost child. 

“I just want to leave. I just want to fucking leave.”, she wept, clasping her hands over her face. 

When the other woman began to sob, Charlotte did the only thing she could think of and that was stepping forward and pulling her into an embrace. To her own shock, Miss Stark clung to her with a strength she had not anticipated, her whole body trembling as her hands dug into her. “I just want to leave. I just want to leave. I just want to leave.”, she repeated again and again. 

“Alright.”, Charlotte said, her own voice breathless, as she tried to think of what to do. Step by step, she thought. I’ll figure it out as we go. 

“We can leave.”, she offered, allowing her request. 

“But they are outside. I don’t want to look at them. I don’t want to speak to them!”, she insisted. 

“You won’t have to.”, Charlotte said. “You can leave with me, We’ll find a way.”

She could put her in a car home, but this was so unlike the Miss Stark she had known and she felt responsible for her. Something told her that she shouldn’t leave her alone. “I can’t go out like this.”, Miss Stark whispered as she saw her reflection in the mirror. 

“Fuck!”, she whispered, cursing her own reflection. 

 Charlotte draped her shawl over her shoulders. It hid her ripped dress. It left her own arms bare, but oh well. At least her dress wasn’t ripped. 

Then she took her handkerchief and let water run over it before wiping her cheeks like she would do with those of a child, before smoothing down her hair. 

“Better?”, she asked. 

Miss Stark only nodded meekly.

“I can take you with me. To London.”, Charlotte offered. “You won’t have to go home with the Shelbys. Is that alright?”

The nod was barely there, but she took it as confirmation enough. One arm was around her waist, the other holding her arm. 

Once outside, they were swarmed by Arthur and John and at once, she felt the other woman tense. “Miss Stark doesn’t wish to speak to you!”, she announced without stopping in her tracks, like Mary would, and they just kept walking. 

For a while she feared that they might come after her, but thankfully her tone seemed to have stunned them into silence.. 

Charlotte walked over to their hospitality with Miss Stark, in front of which now six police officers stood. 

“Sorry no access.”, he told them. 

Charlotte scowled at him. “I am an invited guest!”

They exchanged a glance. “There were orders not to let anyone in, Miss.”

Charlotte spoke with all the authority the Crawley family history granted her, with the forcefulness that would put Mary’s to shame. “I am no Miss, Sir, I am Lady Charlotte Crawley, now I politely request you let us pass right this instant!”

Her tone was less polite, granted, but it did make them step aside. 

Most people had moved away from the balcony and inside to the shade and the cooler drinks. “Would you like to come or wait here?”, she asked, but before Miss Stark could answer, she heard fast footsteps. “Charlotte, there you are!”, her mother scolded. “I was so worried. You can’t just disappear like that with no one knowing where you are.!”

“Apologies, Mama!”, she said quickly. “I-

Over her shoulder, she could see her looking at Miss Stark, her eyes wide. 

“Mama, this is Miss Stark. She works for Mr. Shelby- the foundation, you remember?" At that mention, Miss Stark scoffed and seemed to shrink into herself. 

“What happened?”, her mother demanded to know, concern written all over her face, and a recognition Charlotte knew she lacked. What confused her about Miss Stark’s state, seemed immediately obvious to her mother. “I fell, Milady.”, Miss Stark said without looking at her, the injured side of her face turned away. “The heat.”, Charlotte said at once. “Miss Stark lives quite far from here and so I was wondering if perhaps I could take her back to the house, to rest.”

“Of course.”, her mother said at once. “But I gave the staff the day off until dinner, so you’ll be on your own. Perhaps you take her to Rosamund’s?”

“We can manage, I think.”, Charlotte said, glancing at Miss Stark. “Well then, have the chauffeur take you.”

“But who will take you to the luncheon?”, she asked. 

“I won’t have you two young women in a stranger's car. “, she said sternly, “Run along now. I’ll make your apologies to Sir Richard.”

“Thank you, Mama!”, she said, as a tension she didn’t know fell from her, as she kissed her goodbye. 

The car ride was entirely silent, all the way from Epsom to St. James Square, with Miss Stark trembling beside her, and her not knowing which words to say. 

Usually, in the absence of causes for conversation one could always turn for the weather or flowers of the season as topics, but both seemed hollow and useless to her now. 

Inside, Paul, the hallboy opened the door. It was strange to return to such a deserted house without Carson or Mrs Hughes or anyone there, but she felt that Miss Stark might prefer it this way. 

“I…I..”, Charlotte stammered, before relinquishing her attempt at sounding like the presentable and put together hostess. For that, she was just too unsettled and uncertain. “Just please tell what you need.” “Can I wash somewhere?”, she asked, speaking to the tips of her shoes. 

“Of course.”, Charlotte said. She took Miss Stark by her hand and helped her up the stairs and down the corridor to the bathroom she shared with Edith and Mary. 

With Miss Stark was just standing there, it was left to Charlotte to draw her a bath and lay out some towels for her. “Everything is here, I think. Just use whatever you want.”

With that, she left Miss Stark alone. Only once she was alone with the silence, Charlotte felt her hands tremble. 

She didn’t claim to understand everything, but she understood enough to know that something truly horrid had happened to Miss Stark today, something so awful it made her mother throw out all their day’s plans and even end the scolding of her running off.  And by chance it was her taking care of the woman now. 

In he mother’s parting words was a charge, a task she would now fulfill to the best of her abilities. 

Miss Stark was a great deal taller than her, more Mary’s size, but she couldn’t take her sister’s clothes and so she picked out some of the clothes she had brought which she thought Miss Stark might like to wear, and placed her robe over the fire Paul had lit in her bedroom. 

Then she set about trying to find anything else that might be helpful. 

It wasn’t much, but it was something. 

When she hadn’t heard a noise from the bathroom in over an hour, she knocked on the door. “Do you need anything, Miss Stark?”, she asked. 

When she didn’t hear a response, she decided to try again. “I have a robe here, if you want to step out. It’s been warmed, I presume the water has turned cold by now.”

When once again, no response came, Charlotte decided to open the door and enter. Miss Stark had already stepped out of the bath and was sitting next to it on the floor, with towels wrapped around her body. Her hair was still dripping wet. 

But she got up, when Charlotte came in and put on the robe she offered. 

Her own clothes had been torn by her own hand and thrown on a pile. 

“Do you…ah…have any clothes I could borrow?”, she asked. 

Charlotte guided her back to her bedroom and showed her the pieces she had set out for her. 

“I will let you change.”, she said softly and stepped out once more, going down to fetch what she had prepared earlier. Miss Stark looked confused when Charlotte returned with a tray. 

“I brought tea and cakes. I would have cooked something, but I don’t know how and the staff has the day off.”, she admitted, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. 

She had also added a bowl of chocolates and some tarts from yesterday’s tea she could find. 

“I hope that’s alright.”

Miss Stark stared at her with wide eyes. “I also found Mrs. Hughes medical kit. I think you might need some iodine or cream for…”

The fact that Miss Stark only stared at her made her increasingly uneasy. 

“I could also have a doct-”

“No doctor!”, she insisted at once. 

She nodded and raised her hands to soothe her. “Whatever you want. We have a telephone in the hall that you can use if you want to call someone.” “No one there to call.”, she whispered under her breath. 

That felt like a punch to her gut. 

“Miss Stark,”, she said softly, “I want to help you but I don’t know how.”

The woman’s dark eyes found her, staring right into her soul and making Charlotte feel as weak and foolish as a school girl. But for once, there was no malice in her gaze, just…sheer disbelief. 

“Do you have a cigarette?”, she asked, shaking her head with resignation. 

Charlotte wrung her hands. “I guess I could bring you one of Papa’s cigars.”, she offered. “They are kept in the Smoking room. He has South Americans which he is rather fond of.”

Miss Stark scoffed and shook her head. 

Then she bit her lip and looked up at her. 

“Why are you even helping me?”, she asked. “You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”, Charlotte argued, her voice softly, “we are not the best of friends, but that doesn’t mean I hate you.”

In all, she doubted she hated anyone. Except perhaps Fräulein Kelder, her old Nanny, with Sir Richard being a close second. 

Lizzie Stark scoffed and shook her head, then another curse slipped her lips. 

“I didn’t believe them when they said you didn’t know, but you really don’t, do you?”

Charlotte felt her chest tighten. 

“Know what?”, she asked, her hands finding Sybil’s pearl. 

“About Tommy.”

She said the name like a curse, as if each word was a glass shard stuck in her throat. “Who he is. What he does. What his family does.”

Charlotte swallowed hard and stared at her wide-eyed. "I don't understand- he's a businessman. He sells cars."

Miss Stark scoffed, pulling the borrowed scarf around her tighter, as the look she gave Charlotte, made a shudder crawl over her spine.

~

Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear your thoughts

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight  @lilyevanswhore  @polishcrazyone  @zablife  @just-a-harmless-patato  @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend @shelbydelrey @mrkdvidal1989 @raincoffeeandfandoms @midnightmagpiemama @adaydreamaway08 @kmc1989 @trixie23

Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @babayaga67 @signorellisantichrist @lespendy @geeksareunique @look-at-the-soul @lothbrokcore @rangerelik @elenavampire21 @evanore

[msfcatlover]

Every Monster Can’t Be Your Kid, Bruce.

Inspired really heavily by You, Me, and the Humanity in Between by JUBE514, which I misunderstood the first time I read it and thought they were all going to be different types of monsters. So Dick & Jason are very close to that story in their origins here. You should absolutely read that fic, because it’s fantastic, but the major take away for my AU is that if you pour enough love into something, it can come to life, and the more life & love it carries the more “real” that life becomes.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dick is an antique doll, handed down through generations of Graysons, becoming gradually more alive & aware as time went on. It was John Grayson and eventually his wife Mary who managed to tip Dick over into being animate even when people were watching him. Dick only became more & more real from there, as John & Mary shared their love of flying with him, and eventually shared the spotlight & love of their audience. The circus as a whole saw Dick as a blessing, being fully aware of his inhuman nature but accepting him as a source of good luck… until John & Mary fell, leaving their doll-son behind. Dick could actually see his place in the family he’d been part of turn towards superstitious whispers, as his movements stiffened and his joints became more visible. He wasn’t anyone’s good luck charm anymore.

Bruce also saw how everyone turned on that poor little boy, and rushed to give Dick a place to stay, haunted by the whispers of his own childhood that found ways to blame Bruce for what happened to Thomas & Martha Wayne. Bruce isn’t exactly great at expressing his love, but Dick never needs to doubt it when he can see & feel the evidence right there in his own body. And when Robin met the rest of the hero community, they loved him too, giving Dick the chance to actually grow up for the first time in almost 150yrs.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The first thing Jason ever experienced was love, as the city itself brought him to life. The second thing was freedom, as Jason slipped from the rooftop he’d been carved for and for the first time experienced flight. The third was agony, as Jason struck the ground and his wings snapped right off.

Jason’s not technically a gargoyle. Gargoyles are structurally important, directing water away from the building, and basically never come to life. Jason is a grotesque, carved for decoration & to ward off evil spirits. Without any family to go to, Jason stuck to that second job, protecting the people of his neighborhood as best he could. Batman investigated what he thought was a new vigilante, and found a boy carved from solid stone who could almost pass for human if he stayed out of the light. Bruce worried Jason would suffer the same rejection Dick had, and offered Jason a home; it took some convincing to tempt Jason away from his territory, as it is in Jason’s nature to stay in place in order to protect, but eventually Jason agreed in exchange for training.

(The new Robin doesn’t bend or jerk the way the last one did, but he hits the ground like a meteor strike, and rakes gouges in brick with his claws. He doesn’t shatter & grin through any injury, because most weapons glance off or shatter themselves against his stony skin.)

(Joker submerged a boy carved from centuries-old limestone in an acid bath, and by the time it was drained there wasn’t enough left to animate. Bruce still called every magician he knew, hoping to hear someone say Jason was still alive despite that.)

(Talia had a marble sculpture carved, and had what was retrieved from Jason’s coffin sealed at its core. It still took one hell of a ritual to bring him back, now with a tail that lashed & wings that swept the ground behind him to go with the fangs & claws he’d always had. The new body was perfect in the way only sculptures can be, and Jason just kept himself covered up rather than bother painting & repainting color onto his skin every time he went out in public, lacking the love to lock it in.)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tim was the opposite of his brothers. If you love something, anything, you can bring it to life; if something goes unloved & ignored, on the other hand… Tim just slowly faded into the background of his own life. Nobody talked to him at galas. His parents overlooked him at dinner. Other kids avoided him, while staff wouldn’t look him in the eye. Until one day Tim’s teacher was calling attendance and called Tim’s name three times before Tim abruptly stood up, chair screeching across the floor, and snapped, “I said, I’m right here!” The whole class stared wide-eyed, as though Tim has appeared from nowhere.

Tim learned to take advantage of it. He learned what he could do, as something reality itself sometimes ignored (if Tim closes his eyes and has no one else observing him, he can even bypass laws of physics to move through walls or take a few steps out on open air.) Tim tried to convince himself it was just meta-powers manifesting, and it was pure coincidence how closely his condition mirrored mythical Echo (at least people always hear her voice.)

The only time it doesn’t work is if someone wants to notice Tim. A paradox, as first they need to know the true Tim well enough to want to notice him, rather than their own preconceived notion of Tim or one of the masks that Tim puts on. On the plus side, once Tim became Robin that meant he had people he could reach out to who would answer the phone & talk him through it when reality felt especially swimmy or Tim’s own sense of self might waver. Being overlooked is also just one hell of a superpower, and Tim puts it to good use.

(Tim is eternally annoyed once he starts getting close to people and can no longer slip past them. He demands to know why they can see him, and they’re like, “Because we want to? Because we care about you?” and Tim’s like, “Well that’s inconvenient!”)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Finding a decapitated teenage girl caught under one of the docks was just an especially depressing day for the Gotham PD. Finding a corpse that grabbed back when the coroner went to move it meant it was time to call in the Batman. Steph didn’t know Morse code and her eyes & ears were currently stuck somewhere in muffled darkness far away from the rest of her, so communication was rough but they eventually got her story out of her. Revenants come back for specific reasons, so it was expected she would be there when her father was apprehended; the words he screamed when he saw her corpse, and the beeline Steph made for the box under his workbench put any remaining doubts to rest. Steph picked the lock by touch, and retrieved her head with a huff of relief.

Then Robin said, “Did you find it?” and Steph jumped, throwing her head at him on instinct. It was very embarrassing for both of them, and when Robin handed Steph her head back and she balanced it back on her neck, she immediately started blushing.

(Bruce buys Steph a whole lot of beautiful “necklaces” to help keep her head balanced. Spoiler is the Headless Horseman of Gotham, and Steph finds it hilarious to play into the image. She no longer experiences true pain, just deep discomfort, and gets very good at lobbing her head like a grisly dodgeball at anyone she dislikes.)

(Steph’s a lot more lively than most people expect of the undead, eating & chattering, even getting sick sometimes. She loudly proclaims that the best part of losing her head is that she no longer has to taste it when she throws up, as long as she’s quick enough removing it—when Steph does puke, it’s mostly bilge-water, no matter what she put in her stomach ahead of time.)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Cass is a homunculus, but I have no details. Damian’s got his “mixed DNA clone” origin going on. That’s where I’m at with this one.

[subwaysurf45]

Is there any way we can get more Drabble or stories for team Bucky? I would love to see more from them. Like if Steve has a girlfriend? Or his pov?

Team Bucky pt. 2

It's hard to leave a story with a little bit of angst so here we go, let's be friends again!

A/N: here’s part one

The moment Steve understood you and Bucky’s relationship was not too long after telling you he was warming up to the idea of this relationship. 

You were wheeled in on the stretcher, completely unconscious with burn marks on your legs. Steve just happened to be in the medical wing, talking to the receptionist Mary. His world completely stopped when you popped in from the corner of his eye, doctors pushing you extremely fast to a trauma room. One doctor stayed back and leaned over to Mary, using medical terminology and speaking fast so Steve didn’t pick up on a lot of what was happening, all he could understand was what he saw. 

Mary began to write everything, seeing Steve’s face and explaining it to him - all of it. 

The first thing Steve did was run the other way, to go find Bucky. As Steve ran down the corridor and made a right Bucky was already sprinting towards med-bay, FRIDAY most likely made an announcement in their room. 

Steve didn’t wait for Bucky to ask, “she’s unconscious but still breathing on her own,” he pivoted and ran beside Bucky, “burns on her legs as well as head trauma, she’s in room three but we can’t go in to prevent infection,” they had made it and stopped by Mary’s desk, “we have to wait at the chairs?” This question was directed at Mary. 

“Yes, can I get you guys some water?” She guided them both over. Both of them said yes and sat down, looking straight forward and not saying anything. 

The moment Steve heard a sniffle his head whipped over to see Bucky with his head almost between his knees, hands covering his entire face to stifle the cries. Hesitantly, Steve placed his hand on Bucky’s back, causing Bucky to unleash his tears and lean towards Steve. 

“We both know she’s a fighter,” Steve whispered, “you know more than anyone her grit and her ability to bounce back, alright?” his hand rubbed Bucky’s back. 

Bucky nodded and sat up, “I just-” he sighed and wiped down his face, “it feels like I’m losing everyone close to me.” 

“What?” Steve whispered. 

“I feel like I lost you as my best friend and now I’m losing my girlfriend,” Bucky cried as he looked over, “I just feel like my entire life is slipping through my fingers and I can’t make it stop.” 

Steve sighed, “Buck, listen to me.” he waited until Bucky fully looked him in the eyes, “I know you guys haven’t cared for my update with this relationship but I support it, I have seen time and time again your love for one another and I have painfully realized y/n doesn’t need protecting and she certainly doesn’t need me controlling,” they both let out a dry laugh, “part

of me was hurt I was left out of the loop but that was the initial sting, after blowing up I felt like I couldn’t find the right path to get back into your guy’s life so yeah, I pulled away and gave up on trying.” 

“I get that,” Bucky nodded along, “we were going to sit you down and explain, this was not going to be a thing where we surprise you at the wedding or with an engagement ring, y’know?” 

“Yeah,” Steve kept his hand on Bucky’s back, “I wanted y/n all to myself and when I realized I couldn’t have that I freaked out because I thought I had lost everything but I didn’t realize she was still there. For that,” Steve’s eye became glossy, “I’m sorry. For pulling away from you, for being selfish, for not taking a moment to listen, and for not trying harder to make things work.” 

Bucky smiled, “thanks, bud,” it was as sincere as Steve’s apology, “but this-”

“When y/n wakes up I want to go in there right away and say the same thing,” Steve quickly cut Bucky off, knowing what Bucky was going to say. “I know what you mean when you say you feel yourself losing everything, I feel it in this moment too and I understand. I’m not apologizing because of a dire situation but because I feel like it’s the right time so I’m taking it.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, “you can go in first, she’d be happy to see you.” 

********

Steve was slowly coming out from his sleep, he could already feel the knot in his neck from resting in the hospital chairs. Someone was clearing their throat and Steve just thought it was Bucky, it was hard for him to fall asleep in public and was probably still wide awake so Steve kept his eyes closed. 

In his mind he went over what he was going to say and how, he was going to give you time to yell at him and release all the pent up anger towards him. He’d walk in slowly and quickly answer that Bucky was still outside and take a seat, he’d be calm and talk slowly. If you began to cough he’d shoot up and get a glass of water, helping you drink it and wiping your chin of anything that slipped past your lips. He’d take a deep breath and start with- 

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes.” The coughing has turned into a voice, a low voice that didn’t belong to Bucky. 

They both opened their eyes and took in how they were sleeping. Bucky’s head was resting on Steve’s shoulder and Steve’s head was resting on Bucky’s head, Steve’s arm still sitting on Bucky’s back. 

They laughed at themselves and looked forward, both letting out a noise after seeing you sitting in a wheelchair. Neither of them knew what to say, both stunned you were awake and out of bed. 

“y/n has been discharged, she needs to be wheeled back to her room.” 

Steve stood, “but she had burns on her legs, shouldn’t she stay here at least at night?” Steve looked at Bucky and saw he had the same worried expression, Bucky quickly nodded. 

“No,” the doctor said, “the burns have been wrapped and there wasn’t actually any head trauma, just some blood from someone else,” you nodded, “her heart and blood pressure is great, everything is good to go.” 

“I’ll fill out the discharge papers, you can take her back to the room,” Bucky stood and took the clipboard, he looked at you, “Steve wants to talk so I’ll give you space.” 

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, Steve saw the reassuring look Bucky gave you. You looked up at Steve and smiled, “can you take my back to my room and we can talk there?” 

“Of course,” Steve walked around and grabbed the handles, “do you want to stop by the kitchen first?” 

“No thank you,” you placed your hands in your lap as Steve wheeled you out. 

********

“-and that,” Steve said as his voice shook, “is why I am so unbelievably sorry for everything I caused you,” he wiped the tears off his face but it did nothing. He watched your lip tremble, and cried a little more when you stretched out your arms, “I’m so sorry little sis, you have no idea.” 

You nodded and cried as well, “I’m so glad we had this chat, I thought I was going to lose you and I understand everything.” 

“Even the Peggy part?” Steve pulled away, “I just don’t want you to feel that heartbreak like I did,” you nodded with a smile, “the business we’re in I mean…I just don’t want my little sister to get hurt but I know that’s so-”

He stopped when your finger touched his lips, “I understand,” you smiled, “and I forgive you.” 

“Thank God,” he whispered and fell back into the hug, holding on for dear life. “I’m never going to make that mistake again, ever.” Steve squeezed you tightly, “I’m keeping my plan to walk you down the aisle.” Both of you giggled and held each other a little tighter 

“I love you, big bro.”

“You too, little sis.”

Bucky stood quietly in the doorway, smiling to himself at the image he saw before him. It felt like the tension dissolved but most importantly a weight had been lifted off of everyone's shoulders, it felt nice to simply co-exists again. 

Main Masterlist  

Taglist: tag list:  @imtherain@jackiehollanderr@redneckstrash@tylard-blog1@readingbooksdrinkingtea@linzc-reader@hotleaf-juice@honeybunchesofbucky@sky0401@striving4averagegirl@seybox@yaszx@happyt0exist@honeybunchesofbucky@munsonettee@searchf0rtheskyline@aya-fay@emi11ie@wbyss​ 

[goldenraeofsun]

Day 8: Sober

Cas arrives back on Earth with very little fanfare, waking up on a park bench in Tucson, Arizona at 12:00 pm, October 14, 2022.

The sun bakes down from the clear skies overhead, and Cas actually has to squint to get his bearings. He gives his wings an experimental stretch, and they feel whole and strong, if a little stiff from disuse.

With a single thought, he flies to the Bunker. He’s going home after one year, eleven months, and nine days.

The Bunker door opens for him with a wince-inducing screech, and Cas crosses the threshold.

The air smells stale; no souls glimmer from within the Bunker fortifications. 

It’s been abandoned. 

Left behind.

Cas descends the stairs to the war room, his insides fluttering with a strange sense of anticipation cut short.

Whatever happened to cause the Winchesters to leave, it wasn’t abrupt. 

The entire war table is clear ��� no papers lay strewn about or stray research notes are crumpled in piles.

In the main library beyond, a few books are stacked nearly on the table, and the bookshelves sit neat and orderly,

The kitchen has been left in similar good order. A fine layer of dust covers Dean’s favorite cast iron frying pan, and the pantry and refrigerator are empty.

Led by an invisible force he can’t label again, Cas pauses outside Dean’s door. 

He inhales a breath he doesn’t need.

Inside, blank walls stare back at him. A stripped bed, the memory foam mattress bare to the world, occupies the place of honor in the middle of the room.

Cas runs his hand along the surface of Dean’s nightstand, gritty with neglect. His fingers linger where Mary’s photo rested for years. Turning, he takes a seat. The bed compresses a full inch and a half, and, even after all this time, Cas doesn’t understand Dean’s love for this sleeping surface. 

Impossibly, this empty room, above all others, feels quieter than the rest of the Bunker, silent as a tomb. A neatly ransacked mausoleum to what was. Bare of everything that made it special, left with only the bones it started with.

Good bones, of course – but just bones. Bereft of any substance, any soul that made this subterranean, sunlight-deprived Bunker a home.

Eventually, Cas can’t take it any longer, surrounded by the ghost of Dean’s things.

He leaves.

Outside the Bunker, he sees the biggest sign he missed in his initial eagerness to return: the Impala is offensively conspicuous in her absence.

In an almost human folly, he had expected everything to be as he left it. He has returned to the Winchesters after long absences before – more than a few times due to his own demise – and he’s always found them more or less the same.

But something happened differently this time.

Cas pulls out his phone and turns it on. He’s learned his lesson about arriving without prior notice. His finger hovers over Dean’s name before he deliberately presses “call”.

It rings, and Cas clutches the phone tight to his ear, his heart in his throat.

“The number you have dialed is not in service –”

Cas listens, baffled, to the rest of the automatic message. What happened to Dean’s phone?

He tries Dean’s other cell phone.

“The number you have dialed is not service at this time –”

The phone cracks.

Cas pulls it away from his ear, lips pursing at the broken screen. Damn. The glass surface still responds to his touch, so he scrolls down his contact list.

The phone rings once, and Cas half expects another robotic voice, but –

“Cas?” Sam demands.

“Hello, Sam.”

“Hey, man!” Sam says, delighted. “Gotta say, when I picked up I thought someone somehow got ahold of one of your old phones, but it’s really you, isn’t it?”

“I’m at the Bunker –”

“Oh, shit,” Sam cuts him off. “Yeah, we moved out a year ago. Not far, though, just outside Topeka –”

Cas takes off without another thought. 

Sam is still speaking as Cas lands outside Topeka’s City Hall, “ – after everything went down with Chuck, we thought it was time for a change. For once –”

Cas unfolds his grace, searching the city limits for Sam’s familiar signature, and flies to a two-story house surrounded by an overgrown yard.

“ – the world wasn’t ending,” Sam continues, “or about to end.”

Cas reaches out to touch Sam’s mailbox at the end of his driveway, charmingly shaped like a miniature version of his house. “I’m glad.”

“About time, right?” Sam scoffs. “Anyway – hey, are you outside, dude?”

The curtains twitch, and Sam’s face appears in the window, his mouth hanging open. He disappears,and the front door gets yanked open. “Cas!” he calls, smiling broadly.

As Cas approaches, Sam wraps him in a tight hug. “It’s good to see you. My god, how’re you here?”

“I flew.”

Sam’s grin widens. “I meant on Earth.”

Cas’s brow furrows. “I’m not sure,” he admits.

Sam ushers him inside, saying, “I’m sure it was Jack. I mean, he did it last time, right?” Cas nods, unable to get a word in, as Sam chatters on, “We haven’t seen him in nearly as long as you, but maybe one of these days I can find a summoning spell that’ll actually work on him.”

Cas stares around Sam’s house. It’s as cluttered and messy as the abandoned Bunker wasn’t. Books and papers lay scattered on almost every available surface, and Cas counts three half-empty mugs.

“Sorry, you didn’t give me much time to clean up,” Sam says cheerfully as he shuts open laptop resting on the coffee table. 

“My apologies.”

“Forget it, we don’t stand on ceremony here,” Sam says, his tone warm, as he takes a seat on the navy couch underneath the front window.

Cas wanders around the room, perusing the extensive bookshelves lining the whole back wall. He recognizes more than half of them from the many hours he spent researching in the Bunker.

Photos hang on the opposite wall, mostly of Sam and Eileen. Cas hungrily searches every one for Dean’s face. He finds a few, but none taken in the two years since Cas last walked the Earth.

“ – Nowadays, most of the trouble comes from ghosts or vamps, not demigods –”

Oh, Sam has been talking this whole time. Cas turns from the photos to give Sam his full attention.

“ – Which we can totally handle from here. Sitting on the supernatural motherload was great when we were bouncing from apocalypse to apocalypse, but seemed a bit overboard when everything calmed down.”

Cas waits, but Sam’s evidently done catching him up on what he missed while in the Empty. Never mind that he overlooked the most important update. So Cas has to ask, “Does Dean live here too?”

Sam’s enthusiasm dampens a fraction. “No,” he says. “Dean took… everything, you especially, pretty hard.” His brow furrows.

You, especially.

What does that mean? 

But the question feels too dangerous, too big, to ask Sam, so Cas asks instead, “Is he still in Kansas?”

Sam shakes his head. “He moved to North Dakota, near Bobby’s place outside Sioux Falls.” He sighs. “It got… bad, Cas,” Sam says in a low voice. “He was spiraling out, drinking like crazy, taking stupid risks on hunts.”

Cas walks on shaky legs to the couch and sinks down.

Sam continues, “I was really worried, so I started calling around, and Jody came though. She said she could use some drama after Claire and Kaia moved into their own place.” He smiles. “She got him to walk the straight and narrow, drove him to his first AA meeting and everything.” He swallows. “He’s fallen off the wagon a few times, but never as bad as those first six months.”

Cas lets the story wash over him, absorbing the details like a sponge.

“He calls every few months to say he’s not dead,” Sam says wryly. “He quit hunting ’cause the triggers were too much for him,” he says to Cas’s surprise. “He’s doing good, though. Despite everything.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Sam laughs. “He’s gonna be pissed you saw me first.”

Cas frowns, his mouth pursing. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”

Sam throws him a bemused look. “Shouldn’t what?”

“See him.”

Sam narrows his eyes. “Why the hell not?”

Cas can’t meet his gaze. “He’s doing well staying away from the supernatural. What am I but another ‘trigger’?”

“Dude, you’re so much more than that,” Sam says, shaking his head. “You need to see him.”

“But he’s been making so much progress,” Cas argues. “Despite his lapses, he’s still trying.”

Sam runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. “But, Cas, you might be what actually gets it to stick.”

That makes no sense.

“Dean,” Sam starts, at Cas’s look of complete confusion, “is doing this all for you – in your memory, to live up to your last words.”

“But he already has,” Cas says faintly.

“I know that, and you know that,” Sam says with a snort, “but Dean’s pretty dumb when it comes to this kind of stuff.”

Cas stands. “I have to see him.” 

“Tell him I say ‘hi’,” Sam says as he gets up too, reaching out to grasp Cas’s upper arm. “Hey, before you fly off, there’s a standing Sunday dinner invitation with your name on it.”

Touched, Cas envelops Sam in another hug. 

Sam claps him on the back. “Don’t be a stranger, OK?” 

With one final nod, Cas flies to Sioux Falls, South Dakota. He touches back to Earth outside a small one-bedroom house with a freshly weeded garden in the back and a one-year-old separate garage for the Impala. From inside, Dean’s soul burns as brightly as ever, puttering around the kitchen.

Cas steps up to the front door and raises a shaking hand to ring the doorbell.

An impossibly long 147 seconds later, the door flies open.

“Hello, Dean.”

[thetavolution]

ROSALIND

Full name: Rosalind Nightshade Name meaning:  Rosalind: lovely rose or gentle horse; Nightshade: self-explanatory Pronouns: She/Her Race: Zariel Tiefling Age: 36 Orientation: Pansexual Romance: Rolan Class: Cleric Subclass: Knowledge Origin: Sage  Theme song: Perfect by Alanis Morissette, jealousy, jealousy by Olivia Rodrigo, Stripped Bare by Alyson Stoner, Toxic Thoughts by Faith Marie, and Liability by Lorde

Personality Rosalind is an academic through and through. She is endlessly curious and incredibly well read. She will info dump on almost any subject if you let her. Her curiosity has led her to research a myriad of topics from medicine to the history of clowning in Faerûn. Once the flood gates open, she doesn’t hold back.

Her curiosity often veers into nosiness. She’s a gossip and she won’t deny it. She was known to have the scoop on everyone at work. She knew what everyone was up to and she had thoughts on all of it.

She teeters between over-confidence and utter self-hatred. There are some topics she can be smug about in a Gale-like fashion (I say, affectionally). But she’s called herself the stupidest person she knows on many occasions. She’s a perfectionist. If she isn’t immediately good at something she flounders and gets upset. She’ll try to cover her embarrassment with faked disinterest or outright calling whatever it is stupid. Rosalind will beat herself up repeatedly if she isn’t perfect or the best at something. She’s the girl who would have a meltdown if she wasn’t class valedictorian. 

She is highly opinionated and she’ll argue with anyone at length on certain subjects. She’ll argue with people she respects, too. If anything, lengthy debates seem to be one of her love languages. She can be pretty sarcastic in her rebuttals at times. Gale is one of her best friends and those two can disagree about magical philosophy for hours, and they get smug at each other. But by the end of it, they’re closer as friends than when they started.

Others have called Rosalind high maintenance. She’s used to living a scholarly life indoors. She doesn’t take to being on the road very well and has to figure out how to suck it up for survival’s sake. She also loves the nice things in life like soft bedsheets and good food. She wasn’t rich prior to her adventure, but she had enough money to treat herself. She does like being treated like a princess whenever she can get away with it.

History Rosalind was born in Baldur’s Gate to Darius and Morgana Nightshade. Darius is a cleric and a teacher while Morgana is a wizard and former adventurer. Her mother was used to the limelight and never really wanted to let it go. Morgana had a reputation for being a hero and tales of her good deeds have followed her throughout her life, including some that bards completely made up. 

Darius and Morgana had two children, Adelaide and Rosalind. Darius and Morgana began training them from an early age to prepare them for their future careers. Adelaide became the golden child as she took after Morgana. Adelaide became a wizard just like her mother although it’s unclear how much she truly wants it for herself.

Rosalind was a dutiful student, quickly learning that her parents would withhold affection over any perceived failure. The Nightshade family was (and still is) financially weighed down by Darius’ gambling habits. Morgana was relying on her girls to support them once they were old enough, adding to the pressure the girls felt to succeed.

Desperate for approval, Rosalind upped her training when she was in her early teens. She would study at the Open Hand Temple. It was easy for people to take advantage of the naive and sheltered Rosalind. She was book smart, but lacked street sense. Fortunately, Father Lorgan took her under his wing and kept her safe.

Her time at the temple would kick off her career. She would never cross paths with Wyll prior to the events of BG3, but she did make her way into the upper political circles. While she never secured a position of power for herself, she would find ways to serve the Council of Four. She made a place for herself as a researcher. Despite all of her hard work, she never won her parents’ approval. She would work as a researcher for years, unable to rise further despite her best efforts. She was often caught up in departmental politics and drama in the work place, which affected her professional and personal life.

Everything she built would come crumbling down all thanks to a little tadpole in her brain.

Likes: Research, studying, magic, medicine, antiques, reading, gossip, being spoiled, debating people, studying languages, history, politics, philosophy, anthropology, painting, libraries, the smell of books, pressing flowers, writing letters, afternoon tea, rainstorms, and learning new things

Dislikes: The pressure from her parents, departmental politics, not being able to share knowledge, being barred from learning something, high pitched noises, weather that’s too hot or too cold, hypocrites, bugs, black licorice, raisins, and bad teachers

Fears: She’s terrified of never making anything of her life. She also fears never getting her parents to approve of her. She’s still waiting for the day for her parents to tell her she did a good job. Rosalind doesn’t want her parents to die before she can make amends with them. Rosalind also fears that her parents are right and she’s a failure.

Quirks: Does her love for debating people count? She leaves empty cups of tea all over her house. She has incredibly fancy handwriting. She also seems to have research a broad range of topics. You can expect her to come in with random information about almost everything you come across.

Mental Health: She was pushed way too hard as a child, and she now conflates success with love. It left a lasting impact on her and it’s why she struggles with perfectionism. She’s been taken advantage of in various ways throughout her life. She’s wiser now, but the scars are left behind. She struggles to trust people and she’s a little more prickly than she used to be. She constantly bounces between being too full of herself and absolutely hating herself. She struggles to find any kind of middle ground. This can lead to mood swings that seem sudden to onlookers. 

Favorite Foods: Peaches, Roast Turkey, Potato Wedges, Peach Tart, Sambocade, and Lemon Cake

Favorite Drinks: Peach Tea, Apricot Cider, Zabaione, Lambic Beer, and Riesling

Favorite Flower: Globe Amaranths, Rhododendrons, Freesias, and Peonies

Height:  5'7"

Skin: Pink Tone 3

Hair:  Rose 5

Eyes:  Flame Pink 2

Horns: Red 5 and Grey Warm 1

Color Scheme:  She wears a lot of blues with gold embellishments. If she’s not in blue, she’s usually in green or white.

Fashion Sense: She is an indoor girl and it shows. Her clothing is not really meant for a lot of time running around outside. They’re delicate and beautifully embroidered. She’s well dressed, but not interested in popular fashion. She only cares about well-made outfits that flatter her.

Family

Darius Nightshade — He is a cleric of life and he works as a teacher. He’s reserved. On the surface, he seems like the “normal” parent, but he quietly supports Morgana’s reign of terror. He has an extreme gambling habit that keeps his family struggling financially, too.

Morgana Nightshade — Morgana is a wizard. She was once a respected adventurer who retired to have a family in Baldur’s Gate. She happily eats up any and all praise, even if it’s for something that didn’t actually happen. She’s the academic version of a stage mom. She pits her daughters against each other. She feels like her daughters owe her for birthing them and expects them to take care of her and Darius.

Adelaide Nightshade — She’s Rosalind’s older sister and she’s a respected wizard in Baldur’s Gate. She would love to take over Ramazith's Tower. She’s the golden child and relishes her position, sacrificing her relationship with Rosalind in the process. It’s not clear if she would choose to be a wizard without Morgana’s influence.

[letsgostealthelouvre]

Look, I’m always here for a portrait of the Virgin Mary wielding a massive stick, but the crowning glory of this painting is that in the Louvre’s record, translated by Google, this painting is titled “The Virgin of Help”. I bet she fuckin’ does, bro.

More officially this is “Our Lady of Succour” by Giovanni Pagani, which is...also a pretty baller title. 

[ID: A painting of the Virgin Mary, haloed and wearing a blue cape and cowl over a plain red dress; one arm is upraised and holding a stick, roughly the size of a baseball bat. A smaller woman is kneeling before her, hands lifted in prayer or possibly surprise; Mary’s other hand holds a small child in a golden robe and red boots. Mary’s gaze, and her stick, are both turned towards a devil standing nearby; the devil has black skin, bird’s feet, a thick swath of hair covering his genitals, a knobby tail, bat wings, a leering face, and horns emerging from a pompadour-style hairdo. The devil has one hand on the small child Mary is holding onto and a hooked pole in the other hand. There’s a lot to unpack here.] 

[kitkatt0430]

Wedge, Lando, Mara Jade, and Chewbacca for the character bingo!

Wedge:

I know Wedge best from the X-Wing books I've read and a few other Legends books here and there. And I always get SOOOOO excited to see him pop up in the books. Usually leading Rogue Squad. Except when he's leading Wraith Squad.

He is absolutely the reasonable adult in the room and accidentally dad to his Rogue & Wraith squads. But oh, he gets the angst as bad as anyone who gets main character status in the extended Star Wars universe. At least one of his love interests is murdered :( poor dear.

He has to put up with being tangentially associated to Jedi nonsense through multiple characters - most notably Luke Skywalker and Corran Horn - but because he's a good friend and a good person to have your back in a crisis, he never complains. They're his people, he's gonna be there for them.

Lando:

He's a con man turned legit business owner, though it's a different business every time I check in on him in Legends. lol

So he spends some time in Legends dating Mara Jade. This is later retconned into the two of them going under cover with fake dating to do some recon and Mara was probably plotting his murder the entire time. Though she only wore his clothes (better than him) and probably stole a few of the man's true love interests (his cloaks). But Lando definitely sees himself as the suave playboy, which I enjoy about him so much. (Leia/Han/Lando please???)

Lando is often the adult in the room. He has no idea how this happened and is in perpetual fake it 'til you make it mode when it happens. I love this about him and I'm always excited to see him get put in a situation. Especially when Han and/or Leia are involved. And if he gets whumped... ;)

He introduced Luke to hot chocolate, canonically (Legends), and I adore that because he looked at this Jedi of growing legendariness and accurately diagnosed him with 'perpetually a farmboy at heart'.

Mara Jade:

Ah, my favorite Emperor's Hand, given the final mandate of killing Luke Skywalker upon the Emperor's death. Quite likely my favorite of Timothy's Zahn's Star Wars OCs, (though Karrde and Thrawn are close seconds) and she is absolutely a bit feral. Cryptid energy absolutely.

I adore that she spends so much of the Thrawn Trilogy (Legends) being driven by the Emperor's final command to kill Luke while also fighting it pretty hard while Luke is just, like... batting his eyes and going 'is this friendship? This is friendship. Leia, look at my new bestie!!!' (While Leia watches in bemusement before heading off on her own weird adventure. While being a badass pregnant woman the whole time.)

She is a trouble magnet in much the same vein as Luke too. Which is fun. I'd say she's an unapologetically Mary Sue character, which is well done here. She's a nuanced character with flaws, no one seems sure why they like her at first but she grows on them while she's actively fighting them growing on her too, and she is absolutely the one with the brain cell on Karrde's bridge every time he pulls some crazy stunt.

She's the only love interest Luke has that I don't wind up getting bored with, so it's convenient that she's the one he actually marries... and the way they go about it is they're besties and not romantic at all, but then realize that they're just... happier together and they get married once they're out of danger. Married QPPs anyone???

If not autistic then Mara definitely has some kind of neurodivergence going on, she has that ND putting up with nonsense energy so hard.

Chewbacca:

I love Chewbacca so much. Definitely can do no wrong. Oldest character on the OG main cast, fought alongside Yoda in the clone wars, taken from his home to be enslaved, rescued by this idiot child (Han) whom he becomes a parental/older sibling to because goodness knows Han would get himself killed once a week without Chewie there looking after him.

He's definitely playing up the Wookie stereotypes on occasion for the fun of it, exuding cryptid energy in the process. Is he feral? Is he just playing on stereotypes to win at space-chess? C-3PO & R2 would certainly prefer not to find out the answer.

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 610, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death, abandoned baby, child intoxication, death of a minor character, injured baby, kidnapped child

WORDS: 1193

“Hey sweetheart, Men’s Health wants to do a photo spread of me in my golden years,” Peter grumbled as he read through his emails on his laptop computer. “They want to know if they can send a photographer out to the house for a day.”

“Oh, fun!” I hummed, hallway to sleep. “Do you want to do it?”

“Not really, no,” he grumbled. “But my agent wants me to be more in the public.”

“Ah.” I closed my eyes and curled up into a ball, sighing happily as my mind began to drift off.

“They want to get some pictures of me doing cutesy things with the kids and you being the amazing woman that I fell heads over heels in love with,” he continued to bitch as I drifted off to sleep again. “And also, they-”

I was out.

~xoXox~

I woke up the next morning to Peter snarling and whimpering as Isabelle bounced herself up and down upon his steelen dick.

“Oh yesyesyes…” she whimpered, her chunky braids swaying against her shoulders as her dark toned skin glistened in sweat and cum.

“Jesus fuck!” hissed out Peter, going limp as his orgasm was ripped out from his mighty cock. Likewise, the family nanny let out a loud moan right before rolling off of my soulmate, freeing his half deflated length as she laid there in a clear sex coma.

“Good morning my love. Good morning Isabelle.” I meeped, rolling over to my other side, where I kissed my lesbian lover. “Did you both sleep well last night?”

“I did!” Isabelle answered, letting out a whine when I positioned myself at her still leaking center, where I began to lazily eat her out. “OH-”

Peter collected himself once more before positioning himself behind me, peeling off his spend condom and sinking into me with his hand wrapped around my slim waist and his knees positioned on either sides of my legs.

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH…” I yelled softly, continuing to slurp up Isabelle’s womanly slick. Isabelle entangled her fingers into my sleep tussled curls, egging me on with waning moans and feeble tugs.

SNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP

With a bewitching groan, Isabelle released with the tiniest of squirts before slumping back backwards into the pillows and covers, drifting off to sleep.

Next, Peter came with a muffled bellow, his seedless river gushing deep into my womb as he spun me around before picking me up and tenderly cradling me close to his burly chest.

“I love you.” KISS “I love you.” KISS “I love you.” KISS “I love you.” KISS “I love you.” KISS “I love you.” KISS “I love you.” KISS “I love you.” KISS Peter pressed hungry kisses to my face as he worked me off towards my happily ever after.

“I love you daddy,” I mewled, throwing my head back with a loud whine as my rush screamed out of me, drenching his cock and gray curls that grew down under his boxers. “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH… YESYESYES… Just like that- JUSTLIKETHAT!”

And then, the three of us came at the exact same moment of time before collapsing back into the bed in a panting, wheezing mess. Peter settled me and Isabelle on either sides of him as he drew the blankets over the three of us before pressing whiskery kisses to our temples.

~xoXox~

When I came to next, I found Isabelle and I both in the tub, enjoying a peaceful soak while Peter puttered about in the master bedroom, stripping the bed and making it with fresh bedsheets.

“Good morning, Mary Claire!” Isabelle greeted me brightly, leaning over to kiss me. “Did you sleep well last night?”

“I did,” I answered, humming as she handed me my washcloth to wash myself. I scrubbed my skin clean before I began to brush my fingers through the thick tuff of bright red curls that grew at my apex. I freed the otherwise sticky curls before laying back and letting Isabelle wash me.

The both of us sat there in silence, only giving the other lazy kisses as our hands wandered about, pinching and caressing the other.

“Oh!” I went slack as my final orgasm was torn forcefully from my body, Isabelle seeming to sense that I was ready to tap out. My glazed over eyes took in Peter as he entered with the dirty bedsheets in hand, where he dumped them into the laundry basket. I was unable to look away from his deflated length as it bobbed and nodded to an invisible beat.

“Peter, do you still have one more in you?” the family nanny asked, letting out a screech when Peter came over and snatched her up to his chest, crushing a bruising kiss onto her mouth as he expertly rolled a fresh condom onto his now full dick. “Oh fuck-”

A savage snarl was ripped out from in between my soulmate’s lips as he swiftly impaled himself deep with her and began to pull out and push in.

SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP

I was unable to tear my eyes away from their point of union- my handsome husband giving the family nanny a good and sound dicking.

SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP

“Fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck…” panted Peter before throwing his head back as a howl exploded out of him, his hips stuttering painfully as Isabelle squirted cutely around his massive cock plugging her. “You alright there now Izzie bear?”

“I am, thank you daddy,” she responded woozily as I was getting out of the tub to wrap a towel around my nude figure. She then passed out with a woozy mewl just as Peter was freeing Peter Jr.

Peter caught my eye before pressing another sweet kiss to her temple.

“Daddy loves his Izzy bear,” he told her before tugging me in. “And daddy loves his sweetheart.”

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@elianafilthyrose

@ch3rry-c01a

@rockstarslutt

@angelxfuckk