#I only ever see her captive but I know Dahlia is just a little more sheepish in general

[hurrl]

For the fic thing, what about Kalani and Dahlia with dancing?

KALANI AND DAHLIAAA

I decided they were dating in this mini fic WHOOPS

"You just have to feel it move through you," Kalani's hand rested on the small of Dahlia's back as they stepped side to side to the music, "Swayings fine, but, come on, I know you can do more," "I can do more," Dahlia spoke before giving Kalani a quick kiss, "but I like swaying just fine,"

A few nights ago, right before bed, Kalani had convinced Dahlia to slow dance with her, so far what started off as a cute little joke turned into a nightly tradition. It was a great way to unwind and be close after a long say.

"You're adorable," Kalani smiled down at her girlfriend, "What if we just add a turn today?" Her feet were already in the process of forming a circle, "Oh look! we're doing it!" "Ha. Ha," Dahlia teased, "Always need to get your way, don't you?" "You always give me my way," "I-" Dahlia was about to protest but Kalani was right, she just typically went with whatever Kalani wanted to do, "You are very persuasive,"

Kalani grinned, "And you love me," "And I love you," "I love you, too,"

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝓤𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓔𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓽𝔂 (𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷)

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝑆𝑎𝑛 (𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧)× 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑆𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝐴𝑈, 𝑉𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝐸𝑟𝑎 𝐴𝑈.

𝐼𝑛𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛: "𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑐𝑒. 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑒, 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑: 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒."- 𝑈𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝐸𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑦: 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑟

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 4.4+𝐾

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑀𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑢𝑙𝑡, 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑑𝑛𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑢𝑛𝑠, 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ, 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.

𝑇𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡: @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers @multidreams-and-desires @brie02 @deja-vux @galaxteez @yunhoiseyecandy @rvse-miingi @couchpotatoaniki @daniblogs164 @a-soft-hornytiny

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

~May 17th, 1859~

When their eyes met it was as if time had effectively stopped moving. The sharply dressed male stood immobile by one of the pillars across the ballroom, feet glued to the floor and unable to pick themselves off it. Likewise, the elegant and ethereal lady sitting at one of the tables looked just as mesmerized by him as he was enchanted by her. For a while both of them just stood there, admiring one another as they tried to comprehend what was that tugging sensation they began to feel in the middle of their chests. The chatter and music in the background faded, their ears no longer registering any sound, scent, or object around them. Even their vision blurred everyone else, the only clear image they saw was the person they were currently fixated on.

As if he was in a trance, the male managed to regain his sense of control and began walking towards where she was. As their distance started to get smaller, the pounding in their hearts became more agitated and rapid, their lungs desperately trying to grasp air. When he stood right in front of her, a sense of calmness fell upon them that was even more strange to them given that they had never been acquainted with each other nor had any connections between them. Placing one arm behind him while the other came up just below his chest, he bowed to her, letting her glimpse and admire the top of his head, his hair as golden as the rays of the sun that would shine through her slightly parted curtains during the sunrises. Since she was sitting down, she acknowledged his greeting by lowering her head in a respectful manner. Coming back up, the hand that was placed behind him outstretched towards her.

"If my lady is not otherwise engaged, may I be so bold as to claim the next two dances?"

Unable to reject him, partly due to etiquette but mostly because something pushed her to accept, she smiled sweetly at him.

"You may kind Sir."

As soon as their hands connected, a rush of sparks flowed through their bodies, the feeling so electrifying and magnetic, it became more intense when he placed one arm around her waist while hers found a resting spot on his shoulder. Their other hands intertwined themselves together, their fingers perfectly molding against one another, a rather improper gesture to do at a ball especially between two individuals who had absolutely nothing to tie them together, but neither of them cared. It felt proper and necessary, even more so as their bodies glided across the floor, dancing in tune to the orchestra's music.

"I don't believe I've ever had the pleasure of seeing you before my lady." He suddenly spoke up, voice slightly buffering with nervousness.

Luckily she either didn't notice or chose not to care about it.

"No I'm afraid not. Such a pity if you ask me, you seem like a lively and agreeable person to be around." Although she had always been encouraged not to judge by outward appearances, she could not fathom the gentleman right in front of her to have any sort of evil or fault in him. He was beautiful, his features so sharp and his eyes although looking so mysterious and deadly seemed to hold so much tenderness and frailty in them. Despite his strong and bold looking frame, she could tell he was a man of delicate emotions and gentle feelings. No alarms or voice in the back of her head were warning against him, instead they were silenced as her heart urged her to stay by him and with him.

"And you seem like a lady seeking adventure and freedom." He boldly stated.

She quirked an eyebrow up, puzzled at how he could possibly ascertain such a theory.

"And may I ask what makes you say that?"

Lips curling into a smile, she swore she could melt when tiny dimples appeared on each of his cheeks, a true rare beauty that one hardly saw in those times and were very much admired.

"I look into your eyes and I see yearning, longing for something. As if you are searching for a hidden gem. And there's a hint of gloominess in them as well."

His description shocked her to the core. How could this perfect stranger, whose name she still had not known, possibly see all of that from just a few minutes of interaction?

"Do I look that forlorn?" She began to worry about anyone else being able to see what he saw.

"No...... I guess you could say I just...felt it." His eyes held a lively sparkle in them that just seemed to captivate her even more.

He hesitated to speak out what was on his mind, but seeing as the music was about to come to an end, he knew he had to say it before it was too late.

"If it's all right with you, would you mind if I came to call at your house and be introduced to your parents?" A faint pink hue spread across his cheeks and even his straight nose had a rosey tint at the tip of it.

Although she was no stranger to having young men call for her in hopes of establishing a courtship, it was the first time she was actually excited and looking forward to any future meetings with the man in front of her.

"I'd be delighted if you wished to do so." Her smile was more dazzling than all the glimmering chandeliers that decorated the ceiling and it made her dance partner feel more at ease to know she was just as jolly about a possible acquaintance as much as he was.

As soon as the music ended, they properly bowed to each other but the male, even himself unsure of what came over him, took hold of her hand and held it up to his lips, placing a feather light kiss to the tips of her fingers which left quite a few shocked faces on those who were close enough to witness the act.

"Consider this as our formal meeting my lady."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

August 23rd, 1859

The pair walked side by side across the pastured fields, bright and vivid dahlias acting as their chaperones, all arrayed in either red, yellow or purple coats that had already bud into full bloom. The river nearby had tiny ripples flowing through it due to the light breeze that was refreshing during a rather warm summer day. Behind them, her home was still bustling with excitement and anticipation of what was going to come, hence why they allowed the couple to wander outside by themselves, fully trusting them to maintain propriety. Ahead of them, a vast expanse of trees were to serve as witnesses for such a joyous occasion.

Gazing over at his loving companion whom he had learned to cherish and care about immensely in the short time they've spent together, he felt his hand shake as he touched the side of his pants, feeling the weight of the small black case he was hiding in his pocket.

"You are on edge." Her sudden statement startled him.

"Once more you hit the nail straight on the head." He chuckled, his hands going back to their previous position of staying behind him.

"Do you trust me enough to tell me about it or would you rather we pretend I didn't say anything?" She offered.

Hearing his footsteps suddenly halt, she too stopped walking. Facing over to him, she couldn't read his expression as he had lowered his face, no doubt thinking about how to proceed about with the conversation.

"May I ask......how do you feel about me?"

She was not prepared for that question and yet she had hoped to one day be asked just that. She didn't even need to think too hard, she knew the answer to that already.

"I believe you to be a very kindhearted, caring, and vibrant sort of fellow. And I am extremely grateful to be able to have you in my close circle of friends."

Although he was happy that she felt joy in his company, he felt a little saddened and worried about her use of the term 'friends'. But pushing past his fears, he gathered his courage to speak his next words.

"And have you ever wondered if there's a possibility of us becoming closer than just friends?" He looked at her with in a hopeful daze.

He could sense, feel her uneasiness. It seemed as if their emotions were so intertwined that whatever one was feeling, the other would soon get a notion of it. And right now, he could feel how she slightly panicked at his suggestion.

"If it displeases you, please just let me know right now and I swear I'll not make you uncomfortable with anymore talk of-"

"I would love for nothing more than to be more than friends with you." She didn't want to be rude and interrupt him like so, but she found she could not control herself. Her fingers fidgeted with the lace trimming of her dress, agitation clearly shown in her countenance.

"From the very first moment I saw you, I felt this strange and utterly overpowering attraction towards you, as ridiculous as it sounds. And having come to know you, I was ready to say yes the minute you asked for my hand if the moment ever came...."

She paused to collect her thoughts, taking in a deep breath.

"But at the same time I'm afraid. I know, because I was raised as such, that women are brought up to be good wives, be docile, pliant, obedient and stand behind their husbands and do what society expects of them. And I don't know if I can do that...no... I don't want that. To be locked up in some beautiful golden cage for the rest of my life, with no freedom and my liberty stripped away from me...... I'd go mad." She admitted, immediately turning away from him, not wanting to see his reaction to what some would consider her brazen speech.

"So if what you are seeking is a wife who will be content to sit at home and wait for your every command I suggest you go look somewhere else. I refuse to be that sort of woman, even if it means becoming a spinster for the rest of my life." Her last words got choked up due to tension rising in her voice as she fought back tears, not wanting to cry in front of him.

She felt him right behind her and did not flinch when one of his hands came forward to caress the smooth skin of her cheek.

"My pretty little dove....don't you know that's why I wanna marry you?"

She turned her head to look at him with incredulous eyes.

"Remember when we first met? When I talked about how you seemed to be searching for freedom? Adventure?"

She nodded, never able to forget how she felt the first time they glanced upon another nor the conversation they had. Taking a hold of her waist, he shifted her position so she could face him and see how in earnest he was.

"I'm willing to offer you all that and more. I don't want you walking behind me, I want you by my side as my equal. I won't ever lock you up in a cage. On the contrary, I want my little dove to spread her wings and soar up further than the heavens........ and I want to be by her side to see it."

Her hands came up to clasp around her mouth as she let out a sharp gasp when he suddenly dropped down on one knee. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a black velvet box that contained a stunning ring inside.

"I've already asked for your parent's permission, all I gotta ask now is if you'd make me the happiest man alive and accept to spend life by my side.... and love me?"

She allowed him to take her hand and slide the gem onto her ring finger, tears already pouring down her face. Sniffling softly, she took her hand off her mouth to reveal an emotional and awkward smile as a wave of emotions took over her.

"Yes!"

He released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Sprinting back up, he picked her up and spun her around gleefully. Once he put her down, his hands cupped her face and he leaned in to give her a passionate kiss. Even after pulling away, he still kept her at a close distance.

"I love you.....from now until eternity."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

October 9th, 1861

"You sure you're going to be ok?"

Pushing her hat out of the way so she could look down at her doting husband who was standing right next to the open carriage, she couldn't help but give him a mischievous smirk.

"I'll be fine. I should be the one asking you that."

He gave her a puzzled look.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked.

"That I give you 10 minutes before you're moping by the fireplace, missing me to no end." She snorted softly at his pouty expression.

"You're actually wrong..."

Hopping on top of the step so it could be easier to reach her, he nuzzled his nose against hers.

"I'm already missing you and you haven't even left yet."

She giggled at his cheesiness, allowing him to press a tiny kiss on her lips, which was then followed by another one, then another, until she finally had to push him off before he delayed her trip any further by peppering more kisses across her face.

"All right all right, I get it. I'll be back before supper, it's not that long of a ride to my parents house. Think you can wait until then?"

He shook his head negatively, which made her roll her eyes.

"Well you're going to have to deal with it."

Bending down, she gently stroked some of the hairs that were tussled against his forehead.

"I love you." She smiled at him.

Taking her hand to place a kiss on top of it, her husband never took his eyes off her.

"I love you too. Please stay safe."

With longing eyes, he watched as the carriage was being hauled away in the direction of the woods that surrounded the estate. He didn't look away even minutes after the carriage was out of sight, watching as some of the white flowers fell from the immense trees, petals scattering across the pavement and on the freshly cut grass. Something about the way the flowers fell sent some sort of uneasy feeling in his stomach, but he chose to ignore it, thinking it was probably nothing.

Making his way back in the house, he suddenly stopped when the same feeling crept back up to him, this time more intense than the previous one. His palms which were tightly clenched behind him, were sweating profusely. His heartbeat making more agitated and there was an unusual pounding resonated in his head, that although didn't exactly hurt, it was sending off alarms. He could sense that something bad was going to happen, he could feel it.....

With a sharp intake of breath, he raced over towards the stables where all the horses were kept. Unlocking the door that held his personal horse, he didn't even bother to saddle up or even put a bridle on him. He simply jumped up and threw his leg over the horse, who stood in place to allow his trusted master to get properly seated.

"Go!" He exclaimed as he gently yet firmly kicked the horse on its side, the stallion immediately taking off in the direction that the carriage had gone, the rider hoping and praying that he was only being delusional about the strange sensation that was striking fear in him.

Meanwhile, not far off in the distance, the young lady quietly sat in the carriage, listening to the conversation her two drivers were having amongst themselves, sometimes even laughing at any jokes they cracked along the way. She looked very peaceful, looking forward to paying her parents a small visit, the presents she had purchased for them rattled against her side, all neatly wrapped in white with light blue ribbons decorating them. Her eyes would often drift away whenever she heard the rustling sounds the tiny woodland creatures would make or when a bird would start chirping a little tune.

She was startled abruptly by the sound of gunshots and before she could even ask what was going on, she watched in horror as the two men in front of her fell to ground, blood pouring out from their heads as their soulless eyes stared back into her. The horses were going berserk, letting out loud neighs while fretting about uncontrollably. Standing up, she carefully maneuvered herself and got off the carriage hoping to hop on the driver's seat and regain control of the horses, but she was stopped when a strong hand gripped her wrist and harshly tugged her back.

"You're a really pretty thing." She stared up into the cold eyes of a marauder who scanned her face before looking at his partner.

"How much do you think they'll give us for selling her off to a whorehouse?"

His accomplice shrugged nonchalantly.

"Beats me, but I guess we're going to find out."

Not backing down without a fight, she kicked her arms and legs as much as she could, putting up an intense struggle against her kidnappers. She made sure to scream at the top of her lungs, hoping it would reach someone's ears and come aid her. She nearly freed herself when she hit one of them right in the jaw and bit harshly down on the other's arm which was draped across her neck. She could only take two steps before she was being manhandled once more. She elbowed and kneed at the man, trying to break free from his grasp. Getting frustrated and fed up by her struggle, he took out the pistol he kept by his belt.

"You fucking bitch!"

Pressing the barrel against her stomach, the bullet pierced straight through her, making her choke on the scream she was about to release. Her senses went numb, all she could feel was pain as she felt her life being stripped out of her body.

"No!"

Arriving just as the bullet was fired, her husband swiftly yanked out his own gun. First he made sure to aim at the one who had just shot his beloved wife, the bullet striking him right on his forehead, giving him an instant death. When his partner tried producing his own weapon, the rider was already two steps ahead as he shot him straight through his throat, this time the death was more painful and elongated, but eventually he too met the same fate as his dead companion. Quickly getting off the horse, he ran over to his wife, tears already brimming down his face. Taking a hold of her hand, he first made sure that she still had a pulse and was conscious.

"Love. Darling. It's ok, you'll be ok. All right? Just stay with me, keep your eyes open."

She could feel him rip off a part of her dress and use it as makeshift gauze to press against her wound in an effort to stop some of the bleeding. She could not bring herself to cry, she had no strength left in her to do that. Still she managed to bring one of her hands up to clasp one of her husband's hands.

"I love you.......I always will..." Her voice came out rather raspy and strangled.

Knowing what was happening, her husband began to cry even harder, his arms desperately clutching onto her.

"No! Don't say that my little dove! You're going to be fine! Trust me." He seemed to be saying that more to himself than her, trying to convince himself that this was not real, that it was only a nightmare that they'd get through with together.

But she had already resigned herself to her fate. Knowing she had no time left, she reached up to cup one of his cheeks, her thumb stroking his skin softly.

"Remember.....we'll meet again someday..... I loved you now....and I'll love you in another life."

With one last faint smile, she held her final breath before her head fell back, eyes closing as her spirit left her body. Her lover's body trembled erratically, eyes scrunching tightly, teeth clenched so fiercely they could nearly break apart by his sheer strength. He clung his soul mate's lifeless body against his own, sobbing violently against her neck. Looking up, he let out a heartwrenching and agonizing scream that echoed across the forest.

Part of him died that day just like the love of his life.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

~April 15th, 2019: Present Day~

"Man...that is one sad, depressing story."

One of the members of the group sighed out as his other mate read out the history behind the beautiful and seemingly enchanting forest that they were currently touring across.

"I know right? To think that such a tragic love story occurred right here." One of the taller members said, stepping carefully around the branches that were scattered about the field.

"Enough of this romantic soulmate nonsense, how long is this trail anyways? I'm tired, I'm sweating, it's hot and I'm hungry. Which one of you guys decided it was a good idea to go into nature and explore it? Especially with all these bugs around." The nagging individual slapped his arm once more, killing off another mosquito that seemed to take a liking to his blood.

While all of them continued on ahead, forming pairs or simply admiring the view alone with their phones to capture memories, the lonely member all the way in the back kept his head down. His cat like eyes often looked around, taking in some small details that hardly anyone paid attention to. Brushing some of his black bangs away from his eyes, he felt some sort of nostalgic feeling as he walked along the semi even path laid out for tourists like them. He stopped in his tracks when he came to a particular spot. Looking to his right side, he saw a very narrow off trail that led into the more dense and deep part of the forest. Although his mind told him to stay on the trail so as to not get lost, he found some strange force pulling him in the opposite direction. Without even second guessing it, he wandered off, not caring about if his group mates saw him or not.

As he past all the trees, shrubs and even the tiny squirrels and butterflies that still inhabited those regions, he couldn't shake off the deja vu feeling that fell over him. He strangely felt familiar with his surroundings, even though he was kilometers away from his home country. As he made a sharp turn to avoid hitting against a wide tree, an image suddenly flashed in his head. A galloping horse, the rider, whose face he couldn't see, passing right by where he just past.

"Weird..." He brushed it off, thinking that perhaps the rays of the sun were starting to get to him.

As he came upon a more wider path, he stopped immediately at a certain spot. Another image seemed to pass through his mind, although more blurred, he could faintly make out a silhouette of a man holding onto the body of a woman. Just as soon as it came, it soon vanished. He didn't understand why, but standing right on that spot seemed to cause him pain. Indeed he could feel tears welling up in his eyes and he had absolutely no idea why.

"God what is wrong with me?" He thought as he wiped them away, perhaps he was being extra emotional or something, especially after hearing that story about the forest.

A snapping branch made him aware that someone else was approaching where he was. Looking up in the direction, he felt his breath being taken away as two [insert color] eyes were locked on him. He couldn't even blink, he just continued to stare at the figure standing mere feet away from him. The same energy that pulled him in that direction was suddenly making him pull his feet off the ground and make their way towards the person. He had never seen them before in his entire life and yet.....

He felt as if he knew them, his heart feeling some sort of longing and aching for them. And he could sense that the other person was feeling the exact way he was, for they too were taking careful steps toward him, keeping eye contact with him. Soon they both stood right in front of each other, both had mesmerized expressions as they studied the person in front of them. Without knowing what caused him to do that, the male reached a hand out towards his partner, which she did not hesitate to hold in her own. A wave of shock ran through both of their bodies when they touched, their emotions suddenly burning with passion and love that only grew stronger as their fingers clasped against each other. Swallowing hard, the male decided it was time to speak up.

"Hi..... my name is Choi San."

The woman smiled at hearing his voice. Even though it was the first time she heard it, she knew it, it was oddly familiar.

"I'm Y/N L/N." She responded.

Neither of them flinched away, they simply continued to stare at one another. Although strangers, they felt as if they knew each other for centuries. Unable to help himself, San lowered his face so he could press his forehead against hers.

"It sounds insane..... but I feel I love you." He confessed, his lips brushing against hers.

She let out a soft hum at his statement.

"Then I guess we're both insane, because I feel like I love you as well."

Closing the gap between them, San cupped one cheek with his hand, giving her the faintest whisper of a kiss. The feeling was so raw and so endearing that it sent a warm sensation to their hearts. When they pulled away, his arm snaked around to wrap around her waist.

"It's like we were destined to be."

She chuckled at his words before finishing his sentence.

"Yes....you and I.....

Until eternity."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

[vanilla-vivillon]

Part two of Zoyalai kid as promised

Here’s part one- https://dablackdahlia.tumblr.com/post/650586205772201984/the-black-dahlia

Massive row spoilers

Prince Mycanae Juris Nazyalensky( My Kuh Nay Uh) was turning one years old

It was suprising how quickly he grew up

To Nikolai at least

For Zoya, who adored her son couldn’t wait for him to get older

For one thing while the baby didn’t cry to much at night (whitch was a blessing from the saints)

He couldn’t be Grisha tested

Most ravkans were tested around the age of seven though it varies

Myca was far to young

It was decided when he turned four he would be tested

And so the country was forced to wait four long years

Three more years to go Zoya thought to herself

Myca was an easy baby

That was what his doctors said

He barely if ever cried in the night and was sociable enough

Unlike Genya and David’s son Forrest Kostyk who from all of Zoyas interactions and everything Genya and David mentioned he was a nightmare

Constantly screaming

Hates to eat everything

And now that His teeth were a big enough size he started biting

She had gotten lucky

But Nikolai and her started talking about having more kids

And Zoya found she wanted more aswell

Nikolais pitch however would be far to amusing for her to not listen to

“Come on Zoya only children are the freaks in the playground!” Nikolai said gesturing incredulously

They just gotten Myca put to bed and were having much needed glasses of wine

He needed his rest for his birthday tomorrow

Even though they could’ve had many nannies take care of him that night, neither of them wanted that

Nikolai grew up like that and he wasn’t as close to his mother because of it.

Not to mention the old king was scarce most of his early upbringing

Zoya didn’t want that for Myca either

Of course with all of there duties they had to get some help but they always, always, made sure they put him to bed in the room across from there’s

“Nikolai I’m an only child” zoya retorted

“Touché, but what if something were to happen that Myca couldn’t become king? We would need another option!” Nikolai threw back

Nikolai having another realization

“Plus, it would’ve really helped me growing up to have a good sibling”

This was something Zoya thought about aswell

As a girl she wished for a baby sister

And so did her mother

Sabina had four miscarriages

The last one was the worst

She was safely in the third trimester when it happened

Sabina was distraught for weeks

And when she finally came to, she was different

Harder

Sadder

Meaner

And a couple years later marching Zoya down an aisle

“You know I’m already convinced Nikolai right?” Zoya laughed tired of this charade

Before Myca was born Zoya thought she’d have one

One child

One heir

But she had changed her mind and wanted more

Nikolai showed her a dazzling smile “perfect” he said with a kiss

Zoyas second pregnancy was different

Her morning sickness wasn’t as bad as her first

But a new thing has arrived

cravings

She was consuming unhealthy amounts of Ravkan chocolates

But nonetheless the baby’s due date was July eighth

The date came and passed

But it was nothing to be worried about

There was a lot of moments where they were like “this Is it, the babies coming” then nope

Zoya was 43 weeks pregnant

The baby would be post term

Nikolai would say this is a sign that this child was going to Be late for everything

A difference when Myca was born on the exact due date

But in the middle of the night July twenty second Zoya went into Labor

There second child was Prince Nazariy (Nah-Zuh-ree) Dominik Nazyalensky

He had Brown skin almost darker then Zoya’s and black hair

But it was his eyes that captivated people

He had sectoral heterochromia

His Blue eyes like his Mothers had parts of brown (example below)

They decided on his middle name after Nikolais friend Dominick after some rigorous debate

Zoya wanted to continue with Saint middle names

Nikolai argued Juris was a personal friend

In the end with Nikolais charisma he won

His name Nazariy was actually found in a simple baby book

While Mycanae was in old ravkan and they liked the nickname Myca

They were much more lax with there second son

They eventually decided to have four kids but wanted to wait until Myca would get tested before having there next two children

Time skip three years because your girl can’t detail everything

Myca was four years old and today was the day

He was dressed in his best clothes

What would happen is he would go up in front of the entirety of the Ravkan nobility and other ambassadors and such and would get tested

Zoyas power still couldn’t sense anything in him or Nazariy, but a couple months prior Forrest Kostyk was revealed to be an Alkemi

It seemed that when the grisha first used there ability it activates something and typically Zoya could sense it

Because now Zoya could see Forrest as an Alkemi easily

So while she couldn’t sense anything in her sons that didn’t mean there was nothing there

Zoya and Nikolai had finally gotten most of the details finished and it was them, Nazariy and Myca, and the triumvirate working out some details in the meeting room

Well, Nazariy was pretending he was a squaller by blowing on some paper

And Myca was clearly trying to convince him that wasn’t how it worked

It seemed Myca hadn’t quite grasped his two year old little brother couldn’t care less about what he thought

A fact that would never change over the years

“I don’t understand why we don’t just test him right here right now?” Adrik insisted for the ninth time “less risk”

“And then what if he turns out to be Grisha but presented before the nobility nothing happens? The grisha test only works when they just start out” Tamar responded

“It could still work in front of the nobility” Adrik insisted

“And if all else fails we can just tell him to summon a gust” Tolya added

Tolya was fiercely protective of the boys

It probably started when a couple months ago Myca showed a vague interest in his favorite Poet and the friendship bloomed

“Tolya most summoners can’t summon until days of practice” Leoni interjected “Plus, we’ve made plans on all outcomes and it’s to late to change them now, look on the bright si-”

“Nazariy spit that out!” Zoya interupted

Apparently the little hellhound put one of David’s nails in his mouth

Nazariy, learning his mother wasn’t to be trifled with quickly on, spit it out

Back to the conversation they started on a topic healthy debated

“There’s no way the kid is Grisha!” Adrik started on

“But Adrik he hasn’t gotten sick. And Grisha dont get sick to!” Leoni countered

This back and forth started since Zoya announced her pregnancy

It was a headache really

But when she turned towards the three boys who had come to mean the world to her it was all worth it

Nikolai was with the boys and was apparently taking on Nazariy’s side claiming him blowing on the paper was just as credible as Mommy’s lightning

Myca fought back and claimed any otkaxatsya could do that

It was something happening more often

Myca makes an offhand statement and Nikolai fighting the other side

It was adorable really how Mycas eyes would light up and debate with his father

Plus it would make him think more critically and would make a good king out of him

Not to mention how it really helped Nikolai and him bond

Nikolai and him had some trouble sometimes

Myca doesn’t usually respond to jokes

It seemed after his silly and rambunctious troublemaker of a brother was born he decided he would have to be serious enough for the both of them

Or at least as serious as a four year old could be

But rigourous debate on whether or not green looked good on Nazariy was something they both seemed to enjoy

And as much as Zoya wished she could watch forever it was time

Time to see if her baby boy had certain talents

Myca was scared

He was behind the door waiting to be presented before his mother, father, brother, who would all be seated on the thrones, and of course the rest of the nobility

‘People like you Myca!’ Nikolai would insist ‘there’s nothing to worry about no matter what happens!’

Myca thought he was trying to alleviate the pressure but it wasn’t working

Suddenly his que to come In was called and he walked in

Head held high and posture immaculate he waltzed through the door

The person who was testing him was the Baron of Banewood

An old man who hated nonsense, children, and Prince Nazariy since he was both of those things

He came forward and after some very boring speeches that Myca couldn’t bring himself to listen to until the Baron told him to stick out his hand

Myca complied and the baron produced a very big pin

Guess everyone wanted to be really sure he was Grisha or not

His eyes wandered to his family

Theyre faces looked calculatingly impassive

He knew it was a front

They needed to seem stable for the people

Nazariy who was standing next to the throne was having difficulties standing still

Myca felt bad for him

Half of being royalty is sitting still looking pretty

He trained his eyes back on his parents and saw his father give him a small wink

I got this, I’m prepared for the result, I can do this

As the pin was stabbed into his skin Myca felt it

That calling

That thing begging to come out whenever he saw his Mother doing something grand

Or when he really wanted his brother to leave him alone

And Myca let it overcome him

When he opened his eyes he could see the Baron knocked over and a small breeze

A firm hand clamped his shoulder

“Congratulations Mycanae” Tolya started dragging him away from the scene where the nobility were discussing the scene “Your a Squaller”

Hey so part two of the Zoyalai kid as promised. This was originally gonna be longer but then It became a 230 word monster and i cut it down and will save the rest for part three

35 likes and I’ll make part three

[shifuaang]

Which of your fics...

Tagged by @praetorqueenreyna! Thank you so much for tagging me, I feel so honored! Just a warning to my new friends and followers that the majority of these fics will be Game of Thrones/ASOIAF because (believe it or not), I didn’t start writing ATLA fic until this year. If that’s not to your interest, I will make sure to tag appropriately so it doesn’t show up on your feed. Also your fics sound amazing, and I can’t wait to read them!

Did you think would get a bigger reaction/audience than it got: Definitely Winter to Spring, which is actually a transcription of a long-running tumblr RP that I wrote with my best friend @robb-stark. We archived it on AO3 just so that we would have an easier time reading it. I really didn’t think anyone else would sit down and actively choose to read an almost 700,000 word fic for such a niche pairing (Robb x Margaery), but it has the most hits/reviews of all of my fics.

Is your funniest: I’m not going to link it because I do not endorse some of my terrible early days of fic writing on fanfiction dot net (if you really want to find it, you can seek it out), but Five Times Blair Complained About Dan’s Hair [and the one time she cut it] is some good shit. 

Is your darkest/angstiest: I write so much angst, and I didn’t realize that until just now. I think the darkest might be The Winter Maid because it follows ASOIAF’s canon, and thematically it made sense to stick with the darkness of the canon. The basic premise is Robb surviving The Red Wedding in which his mother/wife/companions are killed and he’s held captive for a year, so it gets pretty bleak at points.

Is your absolute favorite: Probably I’ll Be Seeing You. I think it has such a good balance of dialogue/action/romance/emotion, and the way Robb and Margaery fall in love in this piece in particular feels very organic. 

Is your least favorite: Like everything I wrote as a teen. I’m also not keen on some of the ones that are smutty without much plot. 😂 I think they came from a place of being deprived of canon material about enthusiastic consent and female pleasure when I was younger (which is fair), but the older I get, the more I find smut boring. I skip over it if I ever reread my fics.

Was the easiest to write: I feel like I speed wrote Tell Me a Story. It was just a very natural process once I figured out the formatting/plot. It also helped that I had a deadline as it was written as a birthday gift.

Was the hardest to write: The ones I still haven’t finished. Firelight started off so well, but I am having the hardest time completing the final chapter, I think because the characters are separated and there is a lot of summarizing of events to do. (Not my forte.) 

Has your favorite line/exchange/paragraph (share it): 

“In the distance, the sound of a pipe drifts through the air, and soon it is joined by a collection of voices and the words to a song she does not know. It is neither happy nor sad; she does not know if it is in celebration of their victory or in mourning of their loss. But it reminds her of home – of bards and harps and fiddlers, of deep, soothing voices and dancing flowers in the breeze. Perhaps this is why she never liked the silence; she would sooner hear the croon of a dog or the clang of two swords than nothing at all. Her life was filled with music before she came to this foreign place.” - from Winter Dahlia

Have you re-read the most: The Seasons of My Love. The only reason I didn’t put this as my favorite is because, objectively, it’s not the best written. The pacing is off because the last chapter is extremely long and fluffy. 🙈  But listen - it makes me happy, so that’s all that matters.

Would you recommend to someone reading your work for the first time: Yours, definitely. If you are looking for something a little shorter (Yours is 15,000+ words lol), The Ghosts That We Knew or Tell Me A Story are good introduction fics. (Both under 5,000 words.)

Are you most proud of: This is difficult to say, but I’m going to go with either I’ll Be Seeing You or Yours. I feel like the pacing of these two is just right, and the uniqueness of the former makes it really stand out to me. To take the world of ASOIAF and plop it into a 1940s sci-fi AU was not an easy task, but I am so proud of the ideas that @robb-stark and I came up with. Yours is very dear to me because I wrote it seven whole years ago and feel like it still stands up; I’m still kind of in awe that I wrote it when I was only 20. 

Thanks again for the tag! I think all of my lovely ATLA friends have already been tagged, but if one of you missed out on this, feel free to do it!

[whumpsideblog]

Previous Parts

Tag List: @im-not-rare-im-rarr @constellationwhump @justwhumpitwhumpitgood @maybeawhumpblog @lumpofwhump @whumpity--whump--whump @inky-whump @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @ihaventwritteninsolong @stxckfxck

 This is the ending. Of Silas and Alastair specifically anyway. I have so much more planned with Silas because he’s fun to hurt. I will admit, this isn’t all that much whump at all, pretty much all aftermath, but it was necessary.

 Thank you so much to everyone who actually read this series, and to all the people who left nice things in the tags and replies and sent me asks about this series! I honestly never thought I would write more than three parts of this and here we are finishing on part fucking fifteen! I’m happy to finally end this though, and can’t wait to terrorize Silas some other way :)

***

 He wasn’t better, and he wasn’t okay. But he would be. 

 The first few days after they got home felt weird to him. Alastair was dead, and he was free from him and that mansion, but he couldn’t just forget it. Dahlia said he was grieving, and he wasn’t sure how long that would take, how long he would be kept up at night crying over what that vampire did to him. 

 After being home for a couple days he finally got out of bed due to a knock at the door. At first he didn’t move, but Dahlia wouldn’t stop yelling for him so he finally got up. He was surprised to see Elise at their door, looking happier than he ever saw her in that mansion. She wasn’t even wearing her maid uniform as she did before, dressed in normal clothes. The moment she saw Silas she grinned, rushing over and almost knocking him down with a hug. She quickly let go though, taking a step back. 

 “S-sorry, I know you don’t like being touched- I just… thank you.” She smiled at him. “I haven’t been home in years because of him… none of us have, actually… the whole mansion has cleared out by now, we… we can finally go home.” She grinned. 

 “Shouldn’t I be thanking you?” He smiled tiredly. “If you hadn’t gotten Dahlia I would have never gotten out of there.”

 “O-oh, no, I didn’t… I really didn’t do much, I mean…” She was getting all flustered trying to put her thoughts into words. Much to her surprise, and Dahlia’s for that matter, he stepped forward and pulled her into a hug, lifting her up easily. He couldn’t believe how small she was, he was almost worried that he would hurt her. 

 “Thank you, Elise, I mean it. You know I’m serious, because I’m hugging you.” He laughed softly. He could hardly remember the last time he actually laughed. He set her down after a moment though, even if he was willing to hug her he did have his limits. 

 Dahlia tried to get Elise to stay longer, but she did have a family of her own to get back to, and they certainly weren’t going to keep her from that. They had killed countless vampires, been hired by countless people to do so, but it was rare they ever got a thank you beyond the agreed upon payment. They didn’t need one, at least, Silas never thought it was necessary, but he did feel a little bit better after Elise came by. 

 He wasn’t the only one hurt by Alastair. Dahlia had been hurt, held captive just like he was, and Elise and the rest of the staff had been kept there for who knows how long. Their families probably thought they were dead by now, Elise herself said she’d been gone for years, forced to work under a horrible, abusive master. Not to mention the people who had died because of him, humans were disposable to him, just things to play with until he got bored. 

 Silas wondered why he didn’t get rid of him, why he wanted to keep him so bad that he turned him, but he also wondered if he would’ve gotten bored of him too. 

 ***

 It had been roughly a week home, he still had a hard time believing it. Dahlia seemed to have returned to her normal routine, she was still having trouble with a wrist that wouldn’t heal right but had yet to see a doctor for it. Silas tried to go back to normal, but it was hard.

 He couldn’t go out in the sun anymore, there was that obstacle. He tried to sleep during the day but felt guilty leaving Dahlia to tend to the house and run errands by herself, so he eventually went back to sleeping at night, just keeping the house closed off from sunlight during the day. He tried to spend some time outside once the sun went down, but still refused to go into town with her at night.

 He found that he was terrified of being around other people all of a sudden. He’d never been all that social to begin with, but the idea of anyone in the village finding out he was a vampire scared him. For most of them, their experience with vampires was limited to Alastair, a terrifying ever looming figure who stole their loved ones and killed them. They feared vampires, and Silas didn’t blame them, but he was still scared. He knew he was a monster, but he also knew he’d never hurt anyone. He’d only accepted blood from Dahlia, and even then he only didn’t refuse it because a starving vampire was the most dangerous kind. 

 He couldn’t hide the fact that he was a vampire. The red eyes were a dead give away, it was like a warning sign to humans to stay the fuck away from him and find a hunter. He didn’t know if the fact he was a hunter himself would be enough to make people trust him, especially since he’d never given them a reason to trust him as a human. He knew he’d have to face it someday, but for right now he was perfectly content confining himself to their house. 

 ***

 Two weeks had come and gone. Why was he still letting Alastair affect him?

 He had more or less grown used to the nightmares, the guilt that hit him every time he tried to go to sleep, the voice that told him he was the monster. They would go away over time, he didn’t have the ability to control them completely and will them away by force, but he would recover, someday. He couldn’t get rid of the feeling of Alastair’s hands all over him, constantly touching him, but more than once he’d joked that the vampire had become a ghost with the sole intent of harassing him for eternity. Joking about it did more to help than how he frantically scrubbed and scratched himself when he bathed, wishing he could wash away the vampire’s touch.

 As for his body though, he had complete control over that, over what he did, over how he dressed. So why was he still holding himself to Alastair’s standards? Two weeks had come and gone, and in that time he hadn’t once realized that he was still presenting himself the way Alastair demanded he did. Every day he got up, he dressed nicely and braided his hair, even shaved his face when he needed to and never even tried to take off that collar. He didn’t realize it until Dahlia pointed it out.

 “Why do you still braid your hair?” She asked, sitting on her bed and watching him.

 “What?” He frowned, looking to her as he finished up the braid. “I… don’t know. I guess I’m just used to it…” He never did braid his hair before Alastair, Dahlia tried sometimes but he always hated it, thought he looked stupid. Even though he was so dead set on keeping it long, he didn’t take care of it very well, and styling only went as far as a messy ponytail every day. He only brushed and braided it every day now because Alastair made him.

 “You know you don’t have to, right…? I mean, it’s fine if you want to but…”

 “I know I don’t have to, it’s just… it’s how he liked it and I worry that if I do it differently he’ll…” It sounded stupid when he said it out loud, and he didn’t like the look Dahlia was giving him.

 “He’s dead, Silas. He’s not here to like it or dislike it, he can’t do anything.”

 “I know, I know that, I just… fuck, I don’t know.” He started undoing his hair from the braid, messing it up all over again. “I know he’s dead, but I still… feel him? Like he’s always over my shoulder, ready to slap me or beat me or pull my hair because I’m not doing what he wants. I know he’s dead, but…”

 “But you’re still scared of him.” She sighed and got up, coming over to him. “We’ve been home for a while now, but I’ve never seen you even try to take that collar off. You don’t have to be afraid.” She said softly. “You don’t belong to him anymore.”

 “I… I don’t belong to him… you’re fucking right I don’t belong to him!” He was almost angry that he let this go on so long, that he never thought of the small things he was still letting the vampire control. He stormed out of the room and Dahlia followed him.

 “What are you doing?” She asked, sounding concerned, while Silas searched the house for something.

 “Getting rid of all this.” He motioned to his hair, finding a pair of scissors and going to stand in front of the bathroom mirror. She seemed concerned as she leaned against the door frame, but if she wanted to stop him she didn’t. He grabbed a fistful of his thick dark hair, holding it out and cutting it off. 

 All he could think of was that fucking vampire, pulling his hair, braiding his hair, brushing his hair from his face and running his fingers through it. He’d had some sort of fixation with his hair, almost ruining it for Silas now. When he was younger he’d wanted nothing more than to grow it out, most of the men he looked up to had long hair, and before that he’d been forced to keep it short, every few months he was held down while someone got uncomfortably close to his head with a pair of scissors. It wasn’t worth it though, Alastair would want him to keep his hair long and that was reason enough for him to cut it all off. 

 By the time he finished it was a messy job, his hair was naturally wavy and stuck out in odd places. It didn’t look great, but it was gone, and that was what mattered.

 “Do you feel better…?” Dahlia asked.

 “Kind of.” He laughed softly. He struggled for a moment to cut that collar off, before remembering he was a vampire and could easily snap it. He breathed a sigh of relief once it was off though, for the first time he didn’t feel the vampire’s grip around his throat.

 “It… looks good.” She said, causing him to laugh harder.

 “No it doesn’t!” He ran a hand through it, feeling relieved to have it all gone. She was laughing too now, coming over to mess with it. 

 “Here, I’ll fix it for you.” She gently took his arm, pulling him out of the bathroom. Cutting his hair wouldn’t get rid of the things Alastair did to him, it wouldn’t make all the hurt and trauma go away, and it wouldn’t make him human again. All that mattered, though, was that it made him feel better.

***

 He was better, but he wasn’t okay. He knew that he would be though.

 Alastair had hurt him. He had taken everything from him to make him exactly what he wanted. He had turned him into the worst possible thing, and had ruined him to the point that he couldn’t just ignore it and get over it. He was still plagued with nightmares, he still found himself wondering and worrying about what he would think of things, only to remind himself- He was dead.

 Alastair had hurt him, but he couldn’t anymore. Silas had made sure he knew that in his final moments, and he was going to stand by that. He had to if he wanted to actually live and not just wallow in his own misery for the rest of eternity. 

 He slowly got used to being a vampire, he adapted to his new abilities and limitations, and he slowly got used to drinking blood every day. He even started leaving the house again, always careful to hide his eyes when around other people. He started taking jobs with Dahlia again, in some ways being a vampire actually helped with work. He would never have his old life back, but there was no reason that he couldn’t learn to enjoy his new one.

 Silas was getting better, coping with what happened and recovering from the pain he suffered. He wasn’t okay, but he didn’t worry about it as much anymore, because he knew that someday, he would be.

[parabellum-rpg-archive]

Congratulations, Isabella! You’ve been accepted to play Dahlia Jessup. Please make your page and send it in within 24 hours.

Admin note: I absolutely cannot. This app was freakin’ beautiful! I was already captivated just reading the part where you describe her in your own words. I loved the little details like what she has her degree in and her mother’s response to it. I love how you dissecting her down to her desire to please, but didn’t limit her to that. I can say, 100%, I am soooooo excited to see you bring her to life on the dash! Welcome, welcome, welcome! - Admin C

IC INFORMATION —

CHARACTER DESIRED

Dahlia Jessup.

DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER IN YOUR OWN WORD

I think what defines Dahlia so visibly, is her abandonment issues. Her mommy issues. Her people pleasing. These are all very humanly understandable flaws, and I adore them. I love flawed characters, especially when they’re so relatable to the audience and the person portraying them. I think what makes her so special to me is that I resonate with her on a deeper level for my own personal reasons, but also because she’s filled with this amazing potential to either become a great heroine or an awful villain. She does a lot of things in the name of love & family, but who is she? Strip the girl bare, leave nothing but her heart and soul, and you’ll find that she becomes nothing. Because Dahlia needs and finds her sense of identity within her family, within others.

Of course, she’s more than that, but I think she hasn’t seen herself outside of other people’s perspectives. Perhaps she’s been too self-sacrificing in the name of family (hell, she even sacrificed her own morals to join the Sinclairs) and now she’s paying the price. There are so many sides and nuances to her, I would really love to explore it on a more thorough level.

WRITING SAMPLE

Her figure stands by the kitchen doorway. Hollow, quiet – almost non-existent in its own right. The then sixteen year-old Dahlia is left at a loss for words by her mother.

These are the moments where she catches a glimpse of her mother’s humanity: right after work, when she comes home hours into the night, dark circles and all. She knows Serena works hard, for the both of them, but sometimes Lia wishes she had a white picket fence kind of life, you know, the kind of life they show on television. The kind of life that probably doesn’t exist.

But she stands by the doorway looking at someone whose face is unfamiliar, yet still so ambiguously close to hers. It’s uncanny the resemblance that Dahlia and Serena share.. and as much as Dahlia hated herself for looking so much like her mother, she took some kind of comfort in knowing they shared at least one thing.

These are the moments in which she wishes she felt loved, felt wanted – anything.  “I– I missed you,” Dahlia whispers, like some kind of confession she could never speak of. Her mother nods, unable to look at her own daughter, and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and walks past her daughter.

“Did you hear me?” Dahlia inquires nearly defeated. “Mhmm?” Serena turns to her, in confusion. Either my mother is deaf, or simply out of tune with other people’s feelings, she realizes.

“I said I missed you, mom.” Dahlia gestures, empty handed.

Again, no response. It seems that the main focus of Serena’s attention lies on the television right now – or maybe she’s just pretending to watch the news. “Since when do you even watch TV?” Dahlia points out the obvious, but it’s unclear whether or not Serena bothers listening, simply turning off the television and walking out of the room, avoiding her daughter like the plague.

Silence falls upon them, like a soft numbing blanket caressing each and every word unspoken. Dahlia sits by the couch, unable to look at her mother any longer. Somehow they’ve become strangers and Lia knows she’s not the one to blame, but her heart dips a little further into guilt whenever Serena neglects her. It’s like she’ll never be enough. She’ll never know her mother. She’ll never be Serena’s daughter.

Tonight, she’ll take comfort in her metal science books, in her journals, in her midnight coffee.

Tonight, she’ll also probably cry herself to sleep while her mother leaves for work at 5am in the morning and won’t even notice her big, puffy eyes… but that’s the thing about Serena: even if she did notice it, she’d blame it on ‘teenage hormones’, instead of taking actual responsibility for her daughter’s constant paranoia of abandonment.

                                         ______________________

Hours later and Dahlia sits by the balcony, looking at her old photos like usual. Beside her, by the small wooden table, there’s a box of photographs and old dusty memories thrown into the abyss. Lia has taken it upon herself to sort out which ones are relevant and which are not, but in nights like these, she always winds up too emotional over these memories to ever ponder the idea of throwing out a picture or two.

She doesn’t remember her mother being this fond of her, this close. Pictures of Dahlia giggling, playing or simply smiling right beside her mother are all over the place, and what seems abnormal is that her mother doesn’t look consumed by work, or by life itself. She looks happy, proud… She looks like someone else.

But she doesn’t remember it at all. She lived through it, but she was only a baby… And memories? Memories are too important to lose, like pictures… So tonight, she’ll dig through anything she can find, and maybe she’ll find the father she never had, or perhaps someone to take her mother’s place. If anything, she’ll do whatever it takes.. For what’s left of her family, for herself.

EXTRAS

HEADCANONS:

Dahlia strikes me as the kind of person who’s a little too much of a people pleaser – when it comes down to the people she loves, she’ll go to extreme lengths to please them, earn their love, affection and approval. It goes without saying that Serena left a mother shaped hole in her heart, and without any kind of mother or father to look up to, she took on the role of the people pleaser to ensure she has a place in people’s hearts. It’s almost automatic, and it hurts her when people dislike her. Just the thought of being unwanted makes her skin crawl, triggering her anxiety to the point of having nightmares about her mother – and the father that she never had.

Her MBTI type is ENFJ, who’s also known as the giver amongst people. ENFJ’s are extremely loyal, loving and self-sacrificing to the point of no return. They are also very dedicated, connect easily with people and often forget about their own needs, putting others’ before their own. Because of their intuitive side, they’re excellent troubleshooters, and often ponder about the ‘what ifs’ (in Dahlia’s case, she thinks a lot about her future when it comes down to the consequences of her own actions, and how reckless it was of her to join her aunt’s shenanigans simply because she needed her approval). ENFJs can also be very crafty and artistic, and often can be very pessimistic and overly critical and logical under stress (when she realizes the damage of her actions).

She’s a Virgo. They are known to be perfectionists, logical, practical and very pragmatic. This excerpt taken from an astrology website showcases a lot of the traits Dahlia possesses:  Above all else, Virgos want to help. They are kind, gentle, and supportive friends and lovers who use their incredible intellect and resourcefulness to problem-solve. Virgo’s opposite sign, Pisces, offers guidance through spirituality, but Virgos want to assist on a practical level. These earth signs are always striving to provide workable solutions and improve broken systems. Methodical, committed, and hardworking.

Her Hogwarts house is Ravenclaw. I wasn’t sure if she’d fit into Gryffindor, but I think Ravenclaw encompasses her wit, her intellect and her detail-oriented personality. It’s very incredible to me that someone who’s a feeler (ENFJ) would also be so logical and pragmatic as a Ravenclaw. Dahlia is a fun, complex contradiction to write – and I’m very eager to explore how her head goes against her heart every time.

She has a degree in chemical engineering, specializing in copper, aluminium, iron and steel. Dahlia is a qualified Metallurgist, chemistry is her passion – and she goes to great lengths to ensure that she’s on the right path. Serena laughed about it to Dahlia’s face when she first told her mom she was going to be an engineer. To her, it was a ‘men only’ profession, and it broke her heart not to have her mother’s full support. She wanted to show her she could do it, she could become great, she could do something special. But even after graduating, her mother did not take her seriously.

I have crafted a proper pinterest board for Dahlia. I’m still in the process of organizing it and adding more pins to it, but the essentials are there. I also have a tag for Dahlia on my blog, which you can find by clicking here.

[softupshur]

A Patient Wolf: Chapter 3

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Ao3 link if you’re into that kind of thing

~Updates every Sunday~

You were early. You had a drink. You don’t know what came next. You wake up in a strange room.

Chapter 3:

After neglecting to bring you yesterday’s lunch and dinner, Eddie returns with a skip in his step as he presents an especially slim breakfast.

“We don’t want you ruining your figure now,” he replies when you ask of the meager helpings. “Besides,” he takes your hand in both of his, dwarfing yours, “I want you to save room for dinner tonight. I have something very special planned.” He grips your hand too tightly, and you wince.

Nonetheless, you force a smile and reply, “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Excellent!” He lets go and beams. “In that case, as much as it pains me to do so, I must leave you and begin the preparations! I’ll be back at six, and be sure to dress up!” He doesn’t wait for your response as he frolics from the room.

When the door closes you collapse back on the bed and groan. You don’t like the lack of specifics in his invitation. You aren’t keen on trusting this man with surprises and even less keen on wearing one of those tacky dresses. At least the nightgown was comfortable, unlike the others that came with waists cinched to nothing and itchy petticoats.

Thus, you spend most of the day putting off getting ready, dozing until you have little time left. You have to drag yourself from the plush covers to the foreboding wardrobe.

The dresses are sectioned off into casual and formal attire. Not that it matters. They’re all equally unappealing.

Nonetheless, you settle on a plain, yellow gown with the softest looking material. The flared skirt reminds you of dresses your mom forced you to wear as a girl for your Sunday best. Your thoughts almost wander to her, but you stop them. You doubt Eddie would react kindly to red, puffy eyes going with your evening attire. Swallowing, you head to the bathroom to make yourself up. Through quivering hands, you manage to apply golden eyeshadow to match the shade of your dress. You add in enough mascara to make your eyes resemble a doll’s more than a woman’s. You feel ridiculous as you powder blush onto your cheeks. Even for work, you never strayed from neutral tones.

As you move onto your hair, perfect ringlets would complete the look, but you settle on pulling it into a tight bun, hoping that it passes Eddie’s formal dress code requirement.

You only hope that he doesn’t demand shoes as he’s only provided heels. You doubt you’ll be going out anyways. That’d be too easy.

Already, you want to fall back on the bed and sleep through the ordeal, but you only have five minutes before Eddie’s arrival. You settle on a little tuffet and sit up straight as not to crinkle the dress. Your heart is pounding when you hear those heavy footsteps coupled with the chain.

Every hair on Eddie’s head is slicked in place—his freshly pressed suit, spotless. His smile is wide as he seems to be hiding something behind his back. “Good evening, darling!” he says, before revealing a bouquet of purple hyacinths tied with a red ribbon. “I’ve brought something for you!”

When you mutter a quiet thank you, he places them in a vase on the dresser, “So that you have something beautiful to look at each morning.”

You pick at the hem of your skirt until he’s looming over you. “I must say, darling, that you are an absolute vision.”

You force out another, “thank you,” but he shakes his head and tsks.

“However, you must forgive my boldness. The ensemble is incomplete.” He fetches a pair of shoes in the same shade of yellow as your dress.

“Is that really necessary?” you ask quietly. “I assumed we would be dining here.”

“Of course, but we still must look our finest for the occasion.”

You sigh heavily. “Whatever you say.” You hold out your hands to take the heels, but Eddie keeps them out of your reach.

“Please, allow me.” He kneels before you so he can slip the heel onto your foot. It’s a perfect fit. When he takes your other foot, the cut is in his palm. He forces the heel on anyways. “There, perfection!” He rises and holds out his hand for you. “Shall we, my lady?”

Seeing no other option, you take his hand. The heel is already digging into your cut as he guides you to the exit. You hold your breath as he opens the door to a set of stairs. You take note that you’re in a basement as you cling to Eddie’s arm to keep the weight off your injured foot. Not that it does anything to stop the impending blisters you feel on the back of your feet.

They lead up to a perfectly ordinary, though dimly lit hall. You search for an open window, but all the curtains are drawn. Eddie picks up the pace until you reach a dining room.

Only scattered candles light the room, most of them on a table set for two. There are two dishes and a small bouquet of roses in the center. A faint piano record floats through the area, coupled with the occasional static crackle.

He pulls out your chair and waits for you to take your seat before taking his own.

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday,” he says as you realize your dinner is precut, and his setting is the only one with a knife. “But you know how a man is when he wants to know a woman.” He sighs as if disappointed in himself. “Nonetheless, my behavior was inexcusable. That’s why I wanted to make it up to you.” He pours you a glass of wine to go with your water, and you keep to the water after taking a cursory sip to appease him.

“That’s very kind,” you say as neutrally as possible.

“You needn’t mention it! Please, just enjoy. You must be famished.”

He’s right about that. As he failed to bring you lunch today, you welcome the gourmet lobster dinner, even though your share is considerably smaller than his and he refuses your request for seconds. All while maintaining a winning smile. He eats with a deliberate slowness and impeccable manners, as if he’s dining at the White House.

You almost tell him where to shove it with how damn long he’s taking, but hold your tongue until he’s cleared the table.

“Are we done now?” you ask.

He raises an eyebrow and you shudder when you think you’ve caught a trace of irritation in his expression.

“I…” you attempt a softer tone. “I am quite tired…”

“Then I shan’t keep you up long,” he assures.

You’re relieved that he’s happy again, but it’s short lived as he comes to your side.

“But before I release you, there’s something I must ask: a question that has been burning on my mind.” He drops down on one knee.

Oh God.

“This may seem sudden, but I must speak my mind.” He takes your hand. “We haven’t known each other long, but from the moment I laid eyes on you, I was captivated. For your beauty is unparalleled and your grace without rival. Why, any man would be lucky to call you his. I only hope...” From his coat pocket, he pulls out a tiny box. “That man can be me.” He slips the ring onto your finger and your jaw drops.

It’s your engagement ring.

You assumed he had thrown it away, but you're looking at the dahlia as if it never left. It fits just as perfectly as when your girlfriend proposed.

She had stumbled over her words. She swore that she had a whole, beautiful speech planned out, and apologized that she forgot halfway through. She was so sure she ruined the moment, but you didn’t care.

You said yes, yes, yes. A thousand times you said yes, tackling her in a hug, tumbling over each other. You both laughed and kissed again and again. You thought the dream would never end, but Eddie’s painful grip on your hand brings you back to reality.

“Darling?” His eyes shine as he awaits your answer, but your throat runs dry. You can’t speak.

“My, you’re speechless!” he decides. “It’s okay! I was too when I first saw you, but you needn’t say anything! We have the rest of our lives for idle chat! For now, let’s enjoy this moment as it is! The start of our ‘happily ever after!’”

“I…” The room is spinning. “I feel faint.”

“Oh, my poor darling.” He puts the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re chilled to the touch. You must forgive me for putting you in such a shock!”

“It’s fine. I just...I...I need to lie down.” You stand from your chair but your legs quake. You only take two steps before you’re holding onto Eddie’s arm to stay standing. You feel sick.

“Oh please, you mustn’t push yourself.” He scoops you into his arms as if you weigh nothing, carrying you bridal style through the hall, down the stairs, and back into that eyesore of a basement. He lays you on the bed with great carefulness and tucks you in like you’re a child. “Sleep well,” he croons before planting a kiss on your forehead. “You’re going to need your rest. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. So much to prepare for the wedding.” He leaves you and flicks off the lights, locking the door behind him.

[holocenerpg]

Congratulations, MIA, you have been accepted for CASSANDRA MAYFAIR with the face claim of OLIVIA HOLT! The first thing Jane and I noticed were her similarities to Sabrina the Teenage Witch, and we weren’t sure if they were intentional, but either way, we found it so interesting! It was wonderful hearing about her family, we thought it was so creative how Cassandra technically comes from a muggle family yet wixen kept popping up in their family tree. I’m really intrigued to hear more about how her seer abilities affect her character, and I can’t wait to see how she develops as she settles more into who she is. The little bit about how she herself is a magical accident and catastrophe was really amusing. Welcome to HOLOCENE, we’re so excited to have you here! Your request for CASSANDRA to be involved with the SHACKLEBOLT INTERNSHIP has been accepted. Please send in your account to the main by twenty-four hours or send us a message if you need more time. Make sure that your theme is accessible and that your characters’ name, house, gender, year, and pronouns are stated somewhere in the description. Remember that your second character can be on a sideblog if you’d like, but we do not allow MUMU blogs.

Congratulations, SHEILA, you have been accepted for DAHLIA MORETTI with the face claim of ARIANA GRANDE! We’re really so glad that you re-applied! We can absolutely see all of the places where you took our feedback into account and we’re so happy with the final result. Sarah and I both loved your first headcanon especially —- it was so lovely to see how, even though her parents are busy, she never felt neglected or any less loved, and we love the sounds of her family. Her love for animals, especially her dogs, really warmed my heart, and I love her choice of internship and reasoning! I’m also a big fan of how she played football —- maybe she’d like to join the muggle sports club? Either way, we’re super excited to see her on the dash! Welcome to HOLOCENE, we’re so excited to have you here! Your request for LACHLAN to be involved with the SHACKLEBOLT INTERNSHIP PROGRAM has been accepted. Please send in your account to the main by twenty-four hours or send us a message if you need more time. Make sure that your theme is accessible and that your characters’ name, house, gender, year, and pronouns are stated somewhere in the description. Remember that your second character can be on a sideblog if you’d like, but we do not allow MUMU blogs.

Congratulations, BECCA, you have been accepted for HUGO WEASLEY with the face claim of KEIYNAN LONSDALE! I’m so happy you applied for Hugo because wow, your version of him is so unique and fascinating! I loved reading all of the details about his relationship with his family, particularly the bits about Ron, Hermione, and Rose. I can’t wait to see Rose and Hugo’s dynamic in play because really, this is such a different take on how the Granger-Weasleys are normally portrayed, and god, I’m just so excited for it? As Lily’s mun, I can confidently say that she’s ready to defend him from anyone who dares to bully him because of his autism, and I’m sure the rest of the Weasleys would as well. Can’t wait to see him on the dash! Welcome to HOLOCENE, we’re so excited to have you here! Please send in your account to the main by twenty-four hours or send us a message if you need more time. Make sure that your theme is accessible and that your characters’ name, house, gender, year, and pronouns are stated somewhere in the description. Remember that your second character can be on a sideblog if you’d like, but we do not allow MUMU blogs.

Congratulations, JO, you have been accepted for LACHLAN BELL with the face claim of NOAH CENTINEO! Jo, we absolutely adored Lachlan. As Viv’s mun, I’m super excited to have her step-brother on the dash! His love for his mother and protective nature absolutely shone through, first when wary of Cho and Viv, and then when he accepted them fully and extended that nature to them too. His commitment to Quidditch is very evident, and we cannot wait to see him interacting with the other Slytherin Sixth Years, as well as his friends from across the houses. He’s fun and charming and cheeky and I love him completely! Welcome to HOLOCENE, we’re so excited to have you here! Your requests for LACHLAN to be CHASER FOR THE INTERNATIONAL QUIDDITCH TEAM and SLYTHERIN CHASER AND CAPTAIN have been accepted. Please send in your account to the main by twenty-four hours or send us a message if you need more time. Make sure that your theme is accessible and that your characters’ name, house, gender, year, and pronouns are stated somewhere in the description. Remember that your second character can be on a sideblog if you’d like, but we do not allow MUMU blogs. (Lachlan will be filling Vivienne Chang’s step-sibling wanted connection.)

Congratulations, REGGIE, you have been accepted for TARIQ AVERY with the face claim of FADY ELSAYED! I loved that his father is a wizarding archaeologist because I don’t think I’ve ever seen any characters with that occupation before. The culture shock of Hogwarts after transferring from Uagadou was really interesting to read about, considering how Tariq didn’t only have to adjust to doing magic with wands but also learn about his tarnished family history. The reason why he wanted to intern at the Department of Magical Education was really lovely as well because he makes such a good point about how Hogwarts historically isn’t the safest school and I think it’s so admirable how he wants to help shape the future generations of the wizarding world. Welcome to HOLOCENE, we’re so excited to have you here! Your request for TARIQ to be involved with the SHACKLEBOLT INTERNSHIP has been accepted. Please send in your account to the main by twenty-four hours or send us a message if you need more time. Make sure that your theme is accessible and that your characters’ name, house, gender, year, and pronouns are stated somewhere in the description. Remember that your second character can be on a sideblog if you’d like, but we do not allow MUMU blogs.

Congratulations, SHELBY, you have been accepted for YURI DIGGORY with the face claim of NANA KOMATSU! (Please note that Yuri is adopted.) We know you were concerned about your application possibly being too short, but honestly, we found Yuri and your writing so captivating right from the start, and it was clear to us that you placed a lot of thought into her character. I loved the idea of Amos and his wife Anne adopting another child after the loss of their beloved son, and it’s so interesting how she’s so determined to be different from Cedric that she can’t stop rebelling. And god, the third headcanon? I am honestly so intrigued. I can’t wait to find out more about her once she’s on the dash! Welcome to HOLOCENE, we’re so excited to have you here! Please send in your account to the main by twenty-four hours or send us a message if you need more time. Make sure that your theme is accessible and that your characters’ name, house, gender, year, and pronouns are stated somewhere in the description. Remember that your second character can be on a sideblog if you’d like, but we do not allow MUMU blogs. (Yuri will be filling Lily’s girl gang wanted connection, but this connection still has one more slot open.)

[narusetami]

25.04.15 ( day six )

Yesterday, things had been strange. Things had been different. There had always been three present when they question her; the ringleader, Cam, and the anonymous third party who kept her steady; but yesterday there had been four. The allusive Tor had joined them. They’d spoke about him a few times, as though he was the key to everything and perhaps he was, yesterday he’d done a very good job of showing off his unusual talent.

“You should feed her something more substantial, her thoughts are all over the place.”

He’d said that and it had confused her until throughout the questioning he’d spoke aloud the things that came to mind, reciting her fleeting thoughts to the room. When she was angry he spoke of it, when she only had the energy to hurl mental insults he recited them with a tone of boredom- he really took the fun out of it, if she were being honest. It didn’t take her long to realise he only had to look at her to see into her mind, if she concentrated she could almost feel him there, like a whisper, a niggling thought at the back of her mind she couldn’t shake. It had been odd but not so bad, the worst thing about it was realising she couldn’t control what she thought, she’d read about legilimens reading current thoughts but it wasn’t something she’d ever witnessed and definitely not something she’d dealt with.

It would’ve been impressive if it wasn’t happening to her.

But yesterday had been easier, she hadn’t been knocked around as much, having her thoughts read was hardly ideal but her head was all over the place, she doubted her monologue of insults aimed towards them was the sort of information they were hoping to get from her. So when they showed up again, all four of them, she sighed. The routine made it worse, she knew when it was coming and counting down the hours was agonising, you’d think the unknown would be worse but she hated the creeping feeling that came along when she knew enough time had passed and they’d show up again. It all felt endless and pointless, there was nothing they could get from her, she didn’t know what they thought she did but they tried to take from her still.

“Good evening, Tamiko.”

She didn’t say anything, of course.

“Now, yesterday wasn’t quite as productive as we would’ve liked, today we’re looking for a little more cooperation. Our talented friend here, is going to try a more delicate method of working with you today, it’d be to everyone’s benefit if you could be on board with this.”

“I don’t know anything you want to know, no method is going to change that.”

“I see, well we’ll soon find our, won’t we?”

Yesterday Tor hadn’t stopped pacing, he’d stop for a while on one side of her and them move across the room, pausing again as he recited something, as if he were chasing thoughts as they came or went. Today he moved to stand directly in front of her and something was different, she didn’t quite know how except it just was, there was a tension in the room that hadn’t been present yesterday and for whatever reason they were nervous. Even the man before her, he stood still but when she looked him over she noticed his hands were shaking, fingers tapping at his side in some erratic rhythm that made her gut twist.

“Let’s start with Novus, shall we?”

“Again? I told you I don’t-”

What was that?

The feeling came over her quickly, some invisible veil that draped over her thoughts and for a second everything was blank, she saw nothing but she felt panic running wild in her nerves and suddenly- pain. A quick thud, not anywhere one would notice, it was inside her head, as though something had tried to ram it’s way through her skull. It was a strange, sickly feeling, one second she couldn’t think at all and then it felt as though she had nothing but thought. Everything was her. She was in the room, trapped in one physical space, then swiftly pushed back into a place that held her even tighter captive, forced to revert into herself until all she could see was endless memories crashing into each other. It hurt like hell. There were so many walls, trapped within a space and it suffocated her but the only way out was to fall deeper and each time she did she took him with her. No- he forced his way through, clawed and dug through barricade after barricade as if scraping the scalp off her skull. She wasn’t falling, he was dragging. He was crashing through her mind, heaving her behind him to places she didn’t want him to go. She could see her whole life, her parents and her home, snippets of them distorted and warped as they tried to pass by and she could feel him grasping at them- searching for information she knew she didn’t have.

And she didn’t want him there.

In her head, digging through her life, scrutinising everything she knew and cared about.

Being drawn back into the room felt like being dropped, she hadn’t moved an inch from the chair they kept her but she jolted where she sat, her bones ached as if she’d been plucked from the space and then came crashing back down into it. Her head was spinning, stomach churning, she closed her eyes tight to stop blotches of colour taking over her vision, she didn’t want to faint and be sucked from the room again. Her breathing was heavy, her hair on end, she could feel sweat running down the back of her neck and running a trail along her spine. She was glad it was over, though she didn’t know why it had stopped, not until she opened her eyes again and found Tor kneeling down in front of her. He was gasping for air, hands gripping into his thighs as he tilted his head down at the floor. If her legs weren’t bound she might’ve kicked him in the face. Instead she found herself glaring at him, half in anger and half in confusion, she wanted her gaze to bore down through his skull so she could scoop out the innings of his mind and see all he tried to see in her.

“She doesn’t- She doesn’t know about them. They haven’t told her anything yet, there’s no use digging through endless bollocks to find nothing, it takes too much out of me.”

There was a moment of silence and then from the chair opposite her the ringleader sighed.

“I see, let’s move on then.” One of his underlings, the taller one whose knuckles were bruised from having made contact with her face countless times, stepped to the man’s side and handed him a small pile of files. He silently glanced at each of them, one at a time, before he cleared his throat. “We might as well get some use out of you, you’re not entirely barren of information after all. Do these names seem familiar to you, Tamiko: Dahlia Chen, Piper Oliver, Ares Kane and, we can’t forget about the mutt, Bellamy Adler.”

What?

The files were opened and each one tossed onto the floor a foot or so away from her, close enough that should could read the names on the files. There was no denying what she’d not wanted to think about, that these people knew about more than just her, that they had access to information that put other people like her in danger.

She fell away from reality quickly this time, more aware of what was happening to her, finding that when she was consumed by the darkness of her own mind she didn’t feel the same as she did before, if anything she was more frightened. Of what she might know, of what they might find, how much information she’d tucked away in the back of her mind and not cared to think about until suddenly it might be on display to this invader. It was strange how she couldn’t see him, she could feel him though, a looming presence in her mind that began to stir a gnawing pain under the surface of her skull. This time was different too, he knew what he was looking for and when he dug he didn’t have to dig for long, tapping into recent memories that bubbled up about her and left echoes in her mind. Scenes overlapped and replayed in her head over and over again, those first interactions when passing conversations had left her with an undeniable knowing, the vibration of energy that ran through her nerves when she met more of her own kind. She could feel him latching onto it, reading the memories over and over, each time they threatened to be swallowed up in the mass they were dragged forward again and somewhere distant she heard voices.

“It’s as we’ve always suspected, they can sense each other- the boy too, they know their own kind through some kind of energy reading.”

No.

That wasn’t there’s to know.

She panicked, physically lurched back in her seat- she felt the ache in her muscles when she strained against her binds- and then she tugged mentally. The memory resurfaced and as soon as it did with whatever strength she had she slammed it back down, it sunk away from her and she could feel it slipping, getting lost in the maze of her mind... then he growled, she heard it far away, pain burst into her head and set her body rigid. It was unbelievably sharp, like a knife through her brain, cutting deep where she tried to bury things down and yanking them back to the surface. His presence loomed over her, perhaps not physically but the energy he gave off was impossible to ignore, it bore down on her and made her want to vomit.

“The Oliver girl, she hides what she is. The boy too. Sneaky brats, it’s not surprising.”

Stop it.

“The dog’s a difficult one, she doesn’t know much, she can’t sense him like others of her own kind. Her knowledge is limited.”

“As we expected.”

He was holding on tight to the memories, she could almost feel the physical grasp around them, it made her mind scream to have them held in place when she was trying to pull them away, trying to let them go and keep them buried. This information, the things she knew or things she thought, weren’t for anyone else and certainly not them.

“She- She’s resisting.”

He sounded panicked. Exhausted. She remembered how he’d been brought to his knees, in a gasping mess, when he tried to seek information from her mind and how nervous they’d all been before hand. He wasn’t good at this, she realised, he didn’t have the calm superiority of the previous day when he’d read fleeting thoughts.

“Get whatever you can today, there’s more time.”

“I won’t be able to do this again so you’d better take notes.”

Her head was spinning. She was really going to pass out. The intrusion into her thoughts was unnatural, her mind was a place just for her yet he clawed his way into it, broke down the walls she tried to put up. Things moved so quickly this time it was like whiplash, a clash of memories and thoughts pulled together, she couldn’t make any senses of them. Her family. Her home. The office in London. Hogsmeade. The castle grounds. Inside the walls. Overviews of her clubs, of her classes. Dahlia. Piper. Ares. Bellamy.

“The Adler family have history, connections, the other families are all but useless. At least from what she knows.”

She was glad now that she wasn’t so close to any of them. Glad that when whispers of Bellamy went through the halls she rolled her eyes and didn’t bother to seek him out and ask for the truth of it. Glad that Ares didn’t speak much about what they were, let it be left unspoken, glad she didn’t force her curiosity and want for more. Glad, perhaps even just a little, that Piper’s want to remain hidden had so often felt like a barrier Tami couldn’t cross. Glad that Dahlia was new to her still. And for the first time she was glad she knew little of her gifts, was unable to understand them and refused to use them, decided long ago to shut them out and get by differently, glad she had always been a little bit scared of what she could do.

Because she was tired, this was exhausting her, the physical energy it took to try and push him back when he sought more information. She was glad he couldn’t keep this up much longer, she couldn’t either.

It didn’t come fast enough though.

Her mind was a mess, by the time she noticed the forming attachments it was too late. She didn’t know much about any of the people she spoke of but that didn’t matter, when she thought of any of them at all she couldn’t help the whispers that surrounded them. Sometimes the most important things were the ones that felt like nothing.

“These might come in handy, I hope you have a pen. Loxley Blair. Grant Abergel...”

Wait.

“Niles Morandi. Meredith Halliwell...”

No, stop.

She might have spoke aloud that time, or maybe not, she couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. She felt it and she thought it, she hoped she’d screamed it. It hurt, her wrists and her legs, the binds were cutting into her and even lost in her mind she could feel it burning at her skin.

“Soledad Arch-”

“STOP IT!”

She did scream that time, her lungs ached with it, and her thoughts screamed with her. She had been angry before but not like this, this was something new and it ripped at her chest, made her heart hurt and hands shake. She was done with the grip he decided he had on her, tired of not being in control of anything that happened, claws clung into the memories she wanted to bury deep and if she needed to she’d tear them out of her. If someone could split their skull, pull it apart, yet still survive she was sure this is what it would feel like. He did have a hold on her and it was a strong one, she could feel him in her head, twisted into her thoughts but she was done with that. She’d needed to be angry, she’d needed to truly hate him that much, otherwise she wasn’t sure if she’d find the strength to slam him out. For a moment she wasn’t even sure she had, she could still feel her mind muddled, but she was back in the room. It was spinning, her whole body shaking, there was a ringing in her ears that wouldn’t go away. Just enough though, it had been just enough, he wasn’t just knelt this time he’d stumbled back and was gasping for air as if she’d winded him, gripping either side of his head and cursing. She hoped she’d hurt him because he’d hurt her, not just because he’d pushed his way inside her mind and dug through her memories, but because he’d pulled pieces of her life apart and singled out the people she cared about the most. It had taken a lot out of her, almost everything. She shut her eyes tight but it didn’t change the fact that at some point she’d began crying, tears were still hot on her cheeks and streaming down her face, sweat clung to her and made her shiver. There was blood in her mouth, the taste made her gag, it streamed from her nose over her lips and down her chin with no sign of stopping.

But they ran to his aid, of course. She heard the scuffled as they dragged him from the room, his legs dragging across the floor, Tami wasn’t sure what she’d done but if he wasn’t practised in this kind of thing it was his own fault for trying to invade her mind.

She thought she was alone until she heard the last remaining person stand, she could’ve sworn she could see the smug look on his face when he spoke.

“Interesting.”

The door slammed shut, trapping her in again, truly alone once more. She had been hurt a lot in the past... she wasn’t even sure any more, time felt different here, her attempts to keep it had fallen behind. Her face was swollen, she was bruised and achy, the skin on her wrists and ankles worn away by her binds. Tami had never been hurt before, not anything like this, but up until this point none of it had broken her. Now she couldn’t help it, tears were streaming and her lip quivered, despite her best efforts it didn’t take long before she was sobbing. She couldn’t do this any more, she wasn’t strong enough to keep this up, a difficult truth but one there was no choice but to accept. If she didn’t get out of there, if she didn’t do something, they’d wear her down until there was nothing left.

[ahoforhavoc]

Miserable

These days, you weren't sure which was worse. The constantly nagging gray area of pain and numbness that radiated in your chest, or the nonstop pitiful glances from everyone in your life.

It had been a few short weeks since Jimmy had left you. Your relationship hadn't been the longest, not by any means. But, for as short as it was? It was passionate. It was quick, and it was overwhelming. Your relationship with him had not been unlike the man himself. It was too soon to start tossing around the "L" word before it ended, but you could see yourself falling for The King of the Goths somewhere down the line... it was too bad you'd already begun to when he ended it all.

The worst part was probably never being told what you did wrong. You thought everything was fine. Then, the next thing you know, he told you that he would no longer do this. No kiss goodbye - it would hurt too much. Just the realization that you felt things for someone who didn't feel them back.

That was devastating.

Word got around quickly. Jim Smallman had told you to avoid him on your first day as part of the PROGRESS roster, and you regretfully ignored his warning. He was captivating: cold, distant, and a little cruel. Your goal had never been so much to change him, as much as it was to examine him; to see why he was how he was. To be alone, together.

You always thought you were a little much for him to digest. Truthfully, Jimmy could be moody. He could be sour. He could be outright toxic when he wanted to be. And there you were, akin to this little ray of sunlight that seemed destined to break through the cloudy existence he was so accustomed to living in. You entered his life with a smile and open arms and those things were foreign to the man who had made a name for himself on his willingness to pick others apart. But, when he let you stay as long as he had? You thought maybe he made an exception to the rule for you.

As you later found out, you were wrong.

Dahlia Black had become one of your closest friends on the PROGRESS roster and she was definitely upset to find out that Jimmy had disposed of you the way that he had - not for him, but for you. She'd quickly arranged a girl's day to make you feel better. Her hands were on your shoulders, pushing you in slow steps as you navigated the Electric Ballroom.

"Don't be so glum, Y/N." Dahlia smiled, aware that it was too little, too late, but nevertheless persistent. "You and I are going to go out there and we're going to take out all of this on Toni and Kay Lee Ray. And then, we're going to come back here and we're going to-"

You stopped in your tracks. Your eyes darted to the floor at the sight at the end of the hallway: Jimmy Havoc.

God, even looking at him just made a cold shiver run up your spine and that feeling of your heart sinking into the lowest, deepest pit of your stomach returned. Dahlia's gaze tightened, more sternly.

"Hey, hey no!" She urged, snaking herself around you and taking hold of one of your hands. "We didn't come this far to turn back now."

"I... I can't do this."

You managed to croak out as he approached. The look on his face was complete indifference. You could tell, even as half of it was covered with that spiked mask. He looked right through you. Like a doe, you fled, darting away from him. Dahlia took a moment to glare daggers at Havoc, who only rolls his eyes in response. Then she chased after you, leaving Havoc in his usual scowling state.

"Fuckin' dramatics..." He quipped, removing his mask and brushing his slip of dark hair into place.

"Can you blame her?" Jim Smallman asked, turning a corner and leaning on the wall with a smirk at the look of contempt on his former rival's face. "She adored you, far more than you deserved, and you fuckin' tore her heart to pieces."

"It's none of your concern," Havoc fired back. "It's none of anybody's fuckin' concern what goes on around here between me, and her, or anybody else."

That was part of the reason that he left. Y/N was a social butterfly. She had been able to make friends with anyone and everyone on the roster, from Zack Sabre Jr to even Mr. and Mrs. Haskins. People liked to talk, and he hated to surround himself with such trivialities.

"Actually... she's on my roster. And you're on my roster. So, it's very much so my concern, I would think."

"Wouldn't be the first time you were wrong either, mate, now would it?" That usual scowl crept over his face. "I couldn't give two shits what Dahlia Black thinks of me, nor what I do in my spare time. What MY concern is, where that falls? It's in regaining the World Championship from that sodding dickhead, Travis Banks. Having Y/N around... it complicated that."

"Oh, why's that?" Smallman pried. "Because you weren't such a miserable little whinger the entire time she was around?"

"Miserable, yeah." The Camden native scoffed. "Miserable is havin' everyone around here thinkin' you lost a step when you're still the most violent, brutal motherfucker in the back. Miserable is havin' a weak spot. I don't have that. All I have is the PROGRESS World Championship in mind and not a single distraction from that goal."

"Nobody doubted the depths you're willin' to sink to, Jimmy. I've seen first hand just what kind of a man you can be when things aren't headed your way. It's where you're willin' to rise to that people wanted to see."

Havoc rolled his eyes, before he turned his icy blue gaze in the direction that Y/N and Dahlia had gone off to, just for a moment.

"Not just professionally, but completely. You know, the Mrs. and I actually spent a lot of time wonderin' how ya' even landed a proper bird like Y/N. But, you threw a good thing away."

"Well, fortunately, as I said earlier... it's none of your fuckin' business what I do." He fired back, anger building in his voice and in his eyes at the "comedian's" joke.

"Relax, bub. You're right. It's not my job to hold your hand and babysit you and help ya' make decisions. You're grown, you're right about that. But, it's my job to provide a happy workplace, so if ya' ever need an ear... yadda yadda..." Smallman pushed further.

"I'M NOT HER!" Jimmy raised his voice, repeating further. "I'm NOT Y/N! I don't need ANY-fuckin'-BODY! The ONLY thing I NEED is to regain my World Championship. I don't need the sidetracking, I don't need the cutesy little text messages, I don't need someone tryin' to look out for me. I've NEVER needed that."

He snapped, while Smallman glanced at him. Tentatively, he fired back, a single hand rising to protect himself if need be from the volatile man who stood before him.

"Seems like you're still pretty fuckin' miserable, Havoc."

Smallman tried to edge back a little further, even with his back to the wall, anything to create some distance if it came to it, even if it was in vain. Havoc shot a dead, annoyed look in the direction of the man who he'd spent two years tormenting.

"And," Smallman added further, having already dug himself this deep. "Did ya' ever stop to think she maybe did those things because she cares about you?"

"Of fuckin' course she cares about me." He resigned, his eyebrows furrowing and his eyes slicing. "I knew that when she first woke up next to me-"

"I don't need to know that, Jimmy..."

"It was fuckin' ungodly early. Half-six, I think." He continued to reflect, as if Smallman hadn't said anything. "She asked me if I was awake. I told her no. She pouted, and she stayed there. I'd been drinking -" A cold glare from Havoc told Jim to keep his "witty" comment to himself. "And she stayed with me until I was ready to wake around noon. Kept Aspirins on the table nearby, just in case I was hungover."

"Guess Y/N didn't know who she was dealing with..."

"I thought I hated it. I thought I hated the hangover care, I thought I hated the way she kissed every little cut or scrape I got, I thought I hated the way she would fuckin' turn pennies that she found around the house heads up to 'bring me good luck,' I thought I hated the way she'd giggle at every little fuckin' thing on her phone on social media and turn it to me to show me. It was so... saccharine and annoying. It pissed me off, quite honestly. THAT'S what made me miserable. Havin' to deal with fuckin' sunshine and rainbows every single minute of every single day."

"So ya' sought to bring Y/N down with you?" Jim asked, for clarity, a disturbed look on his face.

"Not quite." Jimmy lamented. "I thought I was miserable havin' someone care about me like that. It felt like I was goin' soft. Like I wasn't me. Now... I'm not me, but I'm lonely. I could handle lonely. I changed because of her and now I miss each and every one of those little things. In the end, I got what I wanted, but now, I'm miserable without her."

That was a revelation that Smallman was not at all prepared for. Vulnerability like that from this man? It was never something he thought he would see. Now? It was alarming. Havoc grit his teeth, being exposed like this not at all something he was used to - he was hardened and jaded. He carried himself in a way that always put his career and the progression of it first.

"I let Y/N stick around a little too long. She got her talons a little too deep." Jimmy hung his head, slumping his shoulders. "I cut her loose to get me back, but it was too late."

"So tell her!" Jim said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "You're brooding, she's hurting. Fuckin' fix it. Doesn't seem that tough."

"And tell her I was wrong? Mate, you should know me much better than that through the years we've spent together. That's not me."

That was the prideful Jimmy that Jim knew. The man who'd be willing to allow himself to be unhappy than to admit he was wrong, because being unhappy was familiar territory. It was something he knew. Being with Y/N was unfamiliar. It was frightening to let himself feel things like that, and not have the worry of losing his edge.

"It just seems unnecessarily cruel to me that you'd bring her down with you when the girl did nothing but pick the wrong person to give a damn about." Smallman sighed, more than aware that he wasn't going to break through to Havoc.

"That's the me that ya' know and love, right?" Havoc found a half-grin but any sense of luster in his eyes had burned out. "She'll bounce back. I'll get my title. Everything will be just chummy once again."

"And what if I tell her?"

Jim asked, as Havoc took a moment or so to collect his thoughts, before his cruel gaze fixated on Jim's. A smirk crossed the face of the former World Champion as his calloused, rough hand patted the cheek of Jim Smallman.

"You know what kind of hell I can bring to your life, Jim. You wouldn't want that to happen again, would you? The same hatchet we buried, I can easily dig up and cleave you to pieces with." He gave his face a few more pats with his fingers, smirking. "I didn't think so."

Havoc took a step back, readjusting his mask in place. As he slunk away, Jim could breathe a sigh of relief. Jimmy had been a menace he'd only recently gotten to a point where he was manageable. Keeping PROGRESS safe as a whole at the hands of one crazed man seemed like it was a higher priority than bringing Y/N back to the fun-loving, sweet girl she was. But, was it a secret he could keep? Only time would tell.

[decadentrpg-blog]

WELCOME AMY, YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF DAHLIA GREENGRASS

Admins Note: Perhaps one of the hardest decisions of the night seeing as so many talented and wonderful applicants vied for Dahlia’s role! I’ve struggled between two in particular! But what I found so entrancing within your application was the subtle nuances of Dahlia’s quiet rebellion, the struggles she faces with her siblings flaws as well as her own. Her cowardice being subtly woven under layers while still striving to escape the chains she’s been shackled in. It is these things that ticking beneath the surface waiting to explode that really painted a portrait of who Dahlia, left me intrigued and wondering, I can’t wait to see what she shall become. Your faceclaim request to use Zoe Barnard has been approved. Congratulations on your acceptance again, please make sure to head your way to the checklist and submit your account within the next 24 hours!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name / Alias: amy Pronouns: she/her Age: 20 Timezone: pst

IN CHARACTER APPLICATION

Full Name: Dahlia Maeve Greengrass—and they called her Dahl for short, her family did. Was it by sheer coincidence that it sounded like Darl, short for Darling, their little angel, their little captive? Sexuality: Dahlia had never been a wallflower when it came to matters of the heart. Her family prohibited her from committing the ultimate crime—relations with a Muggleborn—but aside from that Dahlia was always enamoured with people and prizes of every make and design. As such, I’d describe Dahlia as pansexual, panromantic. Gender/Pronouns: cisfemale, she/her. Hogwarts House: The Sorting Hat was always fond of saying things with the utmost vagueness, such as ‘lots of potential here, my dear’, or ‘you could do great things in any House, you know’. But for Dahlia Greengrass, the Hat would be decisive. She was much too cowardly for Gryffindor (her family was proof of that), much too silly for Ravenclaw (her temperance was proof of that) and she would not have known Hufflepuff’s humility if it had marched up and bit her on the nose. And, to be quite fair, Slytherin was not altogether a bad house. Dahlia’s whole family had gone there, bar a Ravenclaw relative or two, and there was nothing more comforting (particularly to an eleven year old) than the familiarity in following old footsteps down a well-worn path. The Hat shouted SLYTHERIN! a mere thirty seconds after the brim touched her hair, and little Dahlia Greengrass went off (quite happily, I might add) to a hollering table, with the distinct knowledge that her family would be very pleased with her.

Head canons:

“I KISSED EACH BULLET, SIMPLY BECAUSE I LOVED THE PERSON THAT WAS HOLDING THE GUN.” — Donte Collins

Klaus Graves was, in a very certain and predictable manner, dearly beloved in the Greengrass household. How pleased Dahlia’s parents were when they learned of the matter, always inviting him over for tea and banquets. Father liked his reputable wealth and status; Mother adored the way he brought dahlias over on every house visit, like clockwork, like it wasn’t a symbol (freshly watered and placed in an ornate vase) that he owned her daughter’s heart. Velda thought he was very handsome and even Ernest had little to say about the whole affair, as he was often wont to do. And, while all of this was inexplicably true, none of these qualities would much have mattered if he wasn’t of a suitable blood status. As it was, he was welcomed into the Greengrass family and encouraged into Dahlia’s heart, and, in the eyes of Dahlia’s family, that would be that. The end all of everything. A resolution for their pretty little girl, tied up with a handsome bow. But there was something about Klaus that made Dahlia a little bit drunk when she was with him, something that couldn’t make her see straight. With him, Dahlia felt impossibly, awfully small in her love—although she would not come to realise this until later, when craving Evander left her light on her feet; left her feeling like she could do anything, everything, the impossible. That, of course, was a dangerous feeling. But Evander Lupin was another matter entirely, and besides the point. For when Klaus left, her family mourned. Dahlia mourned drinks at the club and dancing until morning. She did not miss him, she was quick to say. She was afraid to convince herself otherwise. She was frightened at what might happen if he deigned to return (which he would), and if she let him (which she would).

“WHERE IS YOUR HEART, GIRL? YOU WERE THROWN TO THE WOLVES, AND NOW YOU ARE ONE.” — Unknown

Ernest and Velda Greengrass were Dahlia’s guardian angels, and nobody ever dared to suggest otherwise. Dahlia was the littlest, which translated—in Greengrass terms at least—to the weakest, the most delicate. Something to be protected. Admired, certainly, but at a respectable distance. Ernest excelled, as far as elder brothers go. He held her hand in large crowds, and sat with her on the Hogwarts Express until she grew old enough to be embarrassed of him. Velda played older, silly sister equally brilliantly. She dolled Dahlia up and took her out dancing; she indulged her in petty gossip and brought her the latest robes for her birthday. They were good at playing protectors. But late at night, when the manor was all asleep, Dahlia would hear them talking over whiskey. We mustn’t tell Dahlia this, and We’ll write to him on her behalf. It was in the little things, like how Velda told her which suitors to like, and how Ernest never let her smoke (although that never stopped her). When, exactly, had her guardian angels become prison guards? And when, exactly, had she committed a crime worth imprisonment?

“GOD, IS THIS ALL IT IS, THE RICOCHETING DOWN THE CORRIDOR OF LAUGHTER AND TEARS? OF SELF WORSHIP AND SELF LOATHING? OF GLORY AND DISGUST?”  — Sylvia Plath

America was all the latest fashion. The Abbott brothers had gone over last summer, and Dahlia’s aunts had come back gushing about the dancing, and the accents, and the fashion. The Prophet had posted an article declaring New York City as “A Must-See For Any Socialite”. Dahlia, who grew tired of the faded greys of England, of watching her every word and following Ernest’s detailed expectations, went out and dusted off the leather suitcase under the bed. Ernest and Father worried so, but Mother was all aflutter at the handsome prospects abroad - and Mother was awful persuasive when she wanted to be. Naively, Dahlia thought America would be different. New York City was the city of dreams - and it was also where hopes went to die. Blood supremacy was the same everywhere, it seemed. Cruelty was a universal language, founded in the arms of the Pride Society. Still, there was a certain liberty Dahlia had never really afforded before. Out here, her jail seemed brighter, wider, the locks a little looser, her diamond handcuffs jingling a little quieter. Just another pretty, petty face in the crowd. And, one day, New York would be the hearth that kept her embers glowing and stoked the flame. She was quite sure of it, if only she could find a lighter.

“BELIEVE YOUR HEART, YOUR MIND, AND YOUR DELUDED MORALS.“ — Song of Achillies

Dahlia Greengrass was a woman of many talents - but there were very few she came by honestly. As a little girl, the Greengrasses indulged in all sort of tutoring, just like they always had and always would. Ballroom dancing, perfect table etiquette. A little bit of painting, piano lessons, memorising trustworthy pureblood families. Fluent French and a touch of Latin on the side. The Greengrasses covered every superficial art under the sun (or at least, they tried to). Dahlia was good with languages, dancing, telling real jewels from fake. But she was mediocre at the piano, awful at the flute, she always picked up the dessert fork first and she always thought the (rumoured to be) disowned members of pureblood families looked the most interesting to talk to. But anything could be learned in time - and as the owners of Dahlia’s stopwatch, the Greengrasses could dedicate all the time in the world to mending her flaws. But for all they smoothed over her jagged edges, they forgot to fill in the fundamental cracks; deep-rooted, unshakable. They locked her flaws (or what they perceived as flaws, anyway) in a gilded cage and did away with the key - her cowardice, her willingness to ask questions. Quiet rebellion, a need to look twice. But they could never drown the hope. And as long as she had that, she could have anything. As long as she had that, she would never be the perfect daughter, and no amount of tutoring could prove otherwise.

In Character Paragraph:

Mother liked to throw the ritziest of all parties. There was always ludicrous amounts of smuggled liquor, raucous music enchanted from the record spinner, lust so thick and tangible one might even be able to taste it if they dared open their mouth. Greengrass parties had always been a luxurious affair, and August 12th was certainly no exception. It was, like all the parties before it, and all the ones that were to come, what the Pride Society would have called an affair to remember.

But for Dahlia Greengrass, who had been afforded these parties for as long as she could remember (and possibly a great deal before that), the parties had kept that ritz, but lost the thrill of something new.

She nursed a wide-brimmed champagne glass between her slender fingers, observing the scene with quiet trepidation. Anyone who knew her—really knew her, beyond the glittering dresses and priceless head pieces, beyond the bubble of innocence her family had cultivated for her—could have seen it. Heloise could have seen it, Dahlia thought, and Evander too. But her own brother sidled up with a glass of his very own, and saw only boredom.

“It’ll be over soon, Dahl,” he assured her. His gaze fell on her other hand, which cradled a cigarette, rim smudged red with smeared lipstick, and his expression took on something that was not quite a frown, but a look she was very familiar with nonetheless. “You aren’t smoking, are you?”

“Should it matter if I was?” she replied absently. Out dancing, she could see the people she’d known her whole life, bathed in new light. Sweet old Mrs. Krasinski from across the road, who liked to regale the Greengrass girls with stories of her youth. She’d been involved in the mysterious disappearance of her nephew’s squib daughter. And handsome Mr. Baudelaire, who was always perfectly charming and extraordinarily nice, was speculated to have caused that Muggle automobile accident not too far back. The Abbott family, with their sweet little twins and their pretty estate garden. Their meddling fingers in politics had made the Daily Prophet the other day. They were not any different people than they’d always been. In fact, they were exactly the same. Consistency was not their flaw, but blindness was Dahlia’s, and under a new truth, nothing quite seemed the same anymore, nor would it ever again.

“Dahlia,” said Ernest, this time with a bite of impatience. “Don’t work yourself into a tizzy. Mother would faint if she saw you with that.” His finger twitched, and Dahlia realised, all in that instant, that he expected her to hand over the cigarette. There was no hesitance in his mind. No universe in which Dahlia would not give up the cigar. He might as well have reached over and snatched the smoke himself.

Dahlia’s hand twitched too, moving infinitesimally up, towards her lips. The problem was, she thought, nobody was devoid of flaws. Velda was brainwashed. Ernest had delusions of grandeur, everyone partook in the mistreatment of house elves, and Dahlia was a coward. A blind coward. Only, blindness could be cured, if only you stuck with the right sort of people, and she could see the truth as well as anyone else now.

But the cowardice. Cowardice ran deep. It always does. Almost always incurable, and most definitely, precisely fatal. Dahlia Greengrass was, perhaps, nobler than those she kept in company with, and that inspired a certain kind of hope. But cowardice was the sort of thing that doomed a girl. Cowardice was the sort of thing that stuck around.

“Dahlia,” warned Ernest. Cowardice, thought Dahlia. And she did not take a drag of smoke.

Instead, she handed over the cigarette, and said, “Don’t tell Mother.”

Extras: My inspiration for this interpretation of Dahlia came from a few known characters. She reminds me of Andromeda Black, except perhaps not as shrewd or brave, not quite so end-all for love. I was also inspired by Susan Pevensie (Narnia), who is the most sensible of her siblings, and is perceived as silly for caring about boys and lipsticks and nylons, and as punishment has her whole family taken from her for following her own beliefs. Other honourable mentions include Wendy Darling (growing up and out of fairytales), Nina Zenik, and Blair Waldorf (spoiled daughter, vindictive and protected). You can also find her Pinterest here.

[graceless-dahlia-blog]

Don’t you know your Queen? || Marluxia & Axel

@flames-of-passion​

Marluxia had always been a glutton for the spotlight. He craved attention at all times and did everything in his power to be the topic of conversation, good, bad, or otherwise, but never like this. 

In the days following his parent’s announcement that they would be getting a divorce, the pinkette recalled just how quickly rumors could spread, even more so when a family as prolific as the Gardenias were at the heart of scandal. 

As it turned out, Marluxia’s soft-spoken father, prior to demanding a divorce, kept a string of mistresses. A fact which he later admitted to his son in a phone call they had not too long ago. While the theater major was far from faithful and the furthest from chaste, the revelation had blind-sided him, but he had suddenly found himself wanting to side with his mother again, until he learned she was already starting to move on. Something he had the pleasure of hearing from the mouth of a nosy reporter trying to chase him down the campus sidewalks.

In the course of these two long months, Marluxia felt as though he was being swept away by the tide and left without a chance to resurface for a breath of air. Phone calls from his mother stopped coming in. She was busy eating up the attentions of others and playing the victim. He hadn’t heard from his father in a while either. He, as the head of the prolific family and a businessman with ties to several companies and organizations, was suffering the consequences of his infidelity, having to give personal statements to rooms filled with reporters and journalists.

Suddenly, the entire country wanted a closer look at the Gardenia family. Everyone wanted to analyze every detail of the shattered fairytale they had spun for so many years and find the exact moment where everything went wrong. People were fascinated by the drama surrounding them and Marluxia really couldn’t say he hadn’t seen it coming. All sorts of dirt and skeletons were coming up as people dug deeper and deeper into his life. Somewhere along the way, the pinkette’s own reckless and carefree lifestyle, his secrets and his habits had been pulled out of what seemed like thin air. Where he once dreamed of appearing on magazines and newspapers praising his talents and looks, he began seeing his name and pictures on cheap, convenience store tabloids with headlines that painted him as a lascivious, drug-addicted deviant who had quickly fallen from grace now that his once virtuous family name could no longer protect him. 

It made him want to throw the rack to the ground.

He was ruined-- life was falling apart at breakneck speed. He stopped going to classes as a last ditch effort to avoid the paparazzi, the whispers and curious stares and even considered dropping out of the musical theater department’s latest production, but his performances were so lack-luster as of late, that it was only a matter of time before the director ordered his understudy to permanently take on the role. It was as if his passion and the joys of pursuing it had been stripped from him.

Even so, he found solace in drag. The makeup, corsets, glitter and heels helped him feel powerful and fierce even when he thought it had all been sapped from his being. At the gay club, no one cared if you were rich, poor, a whore, or a crack-head. They were all there for a good time-- these “deviants” and creatures of the underworld.

It was Marluxia’s first time back in a while, but as Gracie Dahlia took the stage in all her glittering glory, she was welcomed with raucous applause.

Tonight, the performance would not be the same coquettish, theatrical display everyone was so familiar with. 

The lights dimmed, with the exception of a blue-tinted spotlight and Gracie took center stage. 

‘Feeling broken Barely holding on But there's just something so strong Somewhere inside me And I am down but I'll get up again Don't count me out just yet’

Although the vocals were not Gracie’s own, the emotion she put into her gestures and the meaning behind the lyrics were enough to captivate the audience as they sat in silent awe.

As the track played on, the queen’s interactions with the crowd remained minimal to non-existent, compared to her typical performances, but there was something much more raw and impassioned in her lip-syncing tonight than any other night as she came down from the stage on her own and walked along the edge of the crowd.

‘I've been brought down to my knees And I've been pushed way past the point of breaking But I can take it I'll be back, back on my feet This is far from over, I am far from over You haven't seen the last of me No, no, I'm not going nowhere I'm staying right here Oh, no, you won't see me begging I'm not taking my bow, can't stop me It's not the end, you haven't seen the last of me Oh, no, you haven't seen the last of me You haven't seen the last of me.’

Before she knew it, the track had ended and the lights had faded out. There was no choreography, but the performance had come straight from the heart nonetheless. Gracie Dahlia stood in the center of the dance floor, head bowed as her audience displayed their appreciation for the heart-rending performance.

Standing right there, it was so easy to forget how shitty everything in life had become. Here, Marluxia was felt empowered through the persona of Gracie Dahlia. He’d chosen the song for the profound imagery of someone who chose to stand again and although Gracie Dahlia sold the empowering ballad, Marluxia still had a ways to go before he could get back on his own feet.

As the applause began to slow, Gracie took her leave, climbing back up the few steps to the stage and exiting towards her dressing room. 

Once the door shut, Gracie Dahlia melted away, leaving Marluxia standing in her heels. He turned to the vanity. His mascara was running, leaving tracks down his cheeks, but even as he sniffled at the mess displayed in his reflection, he couldn’t remember when he’d started crying.

His immediate move was to sit in front of the vanity and wipe his tears with trembling hands. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. He’d have to reapply his makeup now, but just thinking about the seemingly simple task brought frustrated tears back in his bloodshot eyes.

The sound of his doorknob turning had the pinkette quickly moving to mask the fact that he was on the verge of an emotional breakdown as he sniffled and shuffled around at the vanity, wiping his eyes before he picked up his red lipgloss.

When the door opened, he caught the intruder’s reflection in the mirror.

“Axel...”

The man technically wasn’t supposed to be back here, but when had he ever let little rules like that stop him?

[claudinei-de-jesus]

Have you ever heard of Dark Water? A thriller and horror film released in July 2005 by Buena Vista that was a real box office failure, grossing just under $50 million. If it were just that, it wouldn't be worth talking much about Dark Water, but something that happened 8 years later ended up changing the situation a little. Making the movie a little more…bizarre? Or could we say that reality has become frightening? We are talking about a crime that occurred in February 2013 that resulted in the death of a young Canadian girl in mysterious circumstances similar to what was shown in Dark Water.

But let's start there in 2005, with the movie. What it is? Dark Water is a remake of a Japanese horror film called Honogurai mizu no soko kara (2002). Dahlia has just split from her ex-husband and, amid all the bureaucracy and confusion over the divorce process, custody of her only child, Ceci, comes into play. Trying to live life as best as possible and not involve the child too much in the whole story, Dahlia decides to move into a small and humble apartment with the girl, who immediately seems to love the place, although it has some precarious conditions. The first strange thing that happens to Ceci is that she finds a lost doll in the middle of the hotel. Like most children, she tries to convince her mother to keep the doll, however, she forces the girl to deliver the toy to the person in charge of the building, who says he will keep the object to give it to its owner.

Well, so far, no biggie, Dahlia and Ceci start their new life, tidy up the house, try to live as if the outside world isn't trying to separate them, but things start to get bizarre when Dahlia notices a strange black liquid falling from the roof of your home, like gutters. Since, even after complaining so much about maintenance, the young mother can't get any help, she decides to investigate for herself. Dahlia goes upstairs to her apartment and sees that an entire house is flooded with strange black water. All the faucets and showers in the residence are completely open, even though no one seems to live there. Well, the janitor promises he'll take care of everything and doesn't give much explanation, which leaves the protagonist with a flea behind her ear. But things don't stop there, the phenomenon happens again and again, until once, Ceci asks her mother for a glass of water, and when Dahlia turns on the faucet, a tuft of hair enters the glass. Angry, the woman tries to get explanations, but lame excuses reappear, making the young woman even more restless and keep trying to find out what happens in that place.

Well, remember the little doll Ceci found? This is where she becomes special in the plot. Ceci manages to rescue the so dreamed little doll from her captivity before her mother decides to leave for good and the thing takes her to the roof of the building. When they notice the girl's absence, Dahlia and the caretaker begin a frantic search for the girl, since that doll will belong to a child who had also disappeared in that building. They find Ceci at the foot of a huge water tank, saying that the doll's owner is inside. Yes, my dears, after Dahlia goes upstairs to see what her daughter was talking about, she finds the decomposing body of the little girl who was missing, the owner of the toy. Not only that, it is discovered that the caretaker knew about the young woman's death and was covering up the facts.

I was about 10 years old when I first saw Dark Water. I confess that I was always a child in love with horror and thriller shows, however, I could never imagine what would happen a few years later. As mentioned before, a sinister event happened 8 years after the release of this film, a crime that, to this day, has no convincing explanation. Many believe that the possible perpetrator of the crime was inspired by the story of the movie Dark Water to commit this horrible crime. Others claim it was just a coincidence. And there are still those who dedicate the credits for the feat to a supernatural entity. Well, all we know is that the case was closed as “accidental drowning”, which is, in fact, quite doubtful. Is this a case where fiction inspired reality? I'll tell the story below and draw your own conclusions.

Elisa Lam was a young Canadian university student at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver. She was just 22 years old when she decided to go on vacation to Los Angeles at the bizarre Cecil Hotel. The coincidences already start there, since the name of the little girl from Dark Water is Ceci. As if that wasn't enough, the Cecil Hotel is known for having been the scene of crimes and inhabited by serial killers. Not very good fame, right? An extra curiosity is that he was the inspiration for the fifth season of American Horror Story. But, let's get back to the story. On February 19th, something really strange was captured by the security cameras in the place. You can see Elisa hurrying into an elevator and pressing a few buttons on the dashboard. She looks out carefully, as if something or someone is chasing her, then goes back inside the elevator. She spent some time doing this, checking outside, going back into hiding, until she just walked out, kind of scared. This is the last record of the young woman and it greatly intrigued the authorities. Is Elisa being chased

The truth is that nobody knows, as there were no cameras that showed all the corridors. The young woman disappeared and was never seen again, which caused a great stir in the US and Canadian media. A real effort was made in hopes of finding the girl, who, unfortunately, was already dead since the day she disappeared. But… what about the body? How was it found? It turns out that, a while later, some guests started complaining about the water that was coming out of their taps. She looked a bit cloudy, with an inexplicable stench, something was just wrong. After a while (and piles of complaints), those responsible for maintaining the building went to the water tank, which was on the terrace, to see what was going on. They opened the heavy lid and there they found the young woman's body, which was already entering a state of decomposition. Yes, for a few days, the water with Elisa's remains was being channeled to all the apartments in the place.

The question that remained in the air was: What happened? The video released in the media drew a lot of attention. Elisa was behaving strangely inside an elevator also behaving strangely (since it didn't close while the young woman was inside). This could have been caused by a strong bipolar crisis, an illness from which Elisa suffered. This disorder can indeed cause hallucinations in severe cases, however, the young woman seemed to be in good health and had not had a crisis for months. Another thing that raises questions about the final report, “accidental drowning”, is the way in which the body was found. She was completely naked, with her belongings and clothes floating next to her in the water tank. The box had an extremely heavy lid, which made it almost impossible for her to have, by herself, opened, entered and closed the place. If she threw herself, how did she close? Another thing that caught our attention was that the doors to the terrace were always closed, as a security measure.

Well, the truth is that there are many theories that try to explain what happened to the young Elisa Lam, but the only thing that is certain is that this strange and bizarre coincidence with the movie Dark Water exists. You may not be aware of this, but in some parts of the world there are sects that desperately try to commit crimes inspired by other crimes or movies. Something really sick and macabre.

This story is the first of several that should appear during Halloween month. So if you like horror movies and series, keep an eye out. Many curiosities are to come! Você já ouviu falar em Dark Water? Um filme de suspense e horror lançado em julho de 2005 pela Buena Vista e que foi um verdadeiro fracasso de bilheteria, arrecadando pouco menos de 50 milhões de dólares. Se fosse só por isso, nem valeria a pena falar muito de Dark Water, mas algo que aconteceu 8 anos depois acabou mudando um pouco a situação. Deixando o filme um pouco mais… bizarro? Ou poderíamos dizer que a realidade ficou assustadora? Estamos falando de um crime ocorrido em fevereiro de 2013 que resultou na morte de uma jovem canadense em circunstâncias misteriosas e similares ao que foi mostrado em Dark Water.

Mas vamos começar lááá no ano de 2005, com o filme. Do que se trata? Dark Water é um remake de um filme de terror japonês chamado Honogurai mizu no soko kara (2002). Dahlia acabou de se separar de seu ex-marido e, em meio a toda a burocracia e confusão por causa do processo de divórcio, a guarda de sua única filha, Ceci, entra em jogo. Tentando levar a vida da melhor forma possível e não envolver muito a criança na história toda, Dahlia decide se mudar para um pequeno e humilde apartamento com a menina, que logo de cara parece adorar o local, embora ele tenha certas condições precárias. A primeira coisa estranha que acontece a Ceci, é ela encontrar uma boneca perdida no meio do hotel. Como boa parte das crianças, ela tenta convencer sua mãe a ficar com a boneca, no entanto, ela força a menina a entregar o brinquedo para o responsável pelo prédio, que diz que guardará o objeto para entrega-lo a sua dona.



Bom, até ai, nada demais, Dahlia e Ceci começam sua nova vida, arrumam a casa, tentam viver como se o mundo lá fora não estivesse tentando separa-las, mas as coisas começam a ficar bizarras quando Dahlia repara um estranho liquido negro caindo do teto de sua residência, como goteiras. Como, mesmo depois de tanto reclamar a manutenção, a jovem mãe não consegue ajuda, ela decide investigar por si mesma. Dahlia sobe até o andar superior ao seu apartamento e vê que uma casa inteira está inundada com uma estranha água negra. Todas as torneiras e chuveiros da residência estão completamente abertos, mesmo que ninguém pareça morar ali. Bom, o zelador promete que vai cuidar de tudo e não dá muitas explicações, o que deixa a protagonista com uma pulga atrás da orelha. Mas as coisas não param por ai, o fenômeno volta a acontecer repetidas vezes, até que, certa vez, Ceci pede para a mãe um copo de água e, quando Dahlia abre a torneira, um tufo de cabelo entra no copo. Revoltada a mulher tenta conseguir explicações, mas desculpas esfarrapadas voltam aparecer, fazendo com que a jovem fique ainda mais inquieta e continue tentando descobrir o que acontece naquele lugar.



Bom, se lembra da bonequinha que Ceci encontrou? É aqui que ela se torna especial na trama. Ceci consegue resgatar a tão sonhada bonequinha de seu cativeiro antes que sua mãe decida ir embora de vez e a coisa a leva até o terraço do prédio. Quando notam a ausência da pequena, Dahlia e o zelador começam uma busca frenética pela menina, uma vez que aquela boneca pertencerá a uma criança que também havia desaparecido naquele prédio. Eles encontram Ceci aos pés de uma enorme caixa d’água, dizendo que a dona da boneca está lá dentro. Pois é, meus caros, depois que Dahlia sobe para ver do que a filha estava falando, ela encontra o corpo em decomposição da menininha que estava desaparecida, dona do brinquedo. Não só isso, é descoberto que o zelador sabia sobre a morte da jovem e estava acobertando os fatos.

Eu tinha cerca de 10 anos quando vi Dark Water pela primeira vez. Confesso que sempre fui uma criança apaixonada pelos programas de terror e suspense, no entanto, eu nunca poderia imaginar o que aconteceria alguns anos após. Como já dito anteriormente, um fato sinistro aconteceu 8 anos depois do lançamento desse filme, um crime que, até hoje, não tem uma explicação convincente. Muitos acreditam que o possível autor do delito tenha se inspirado na história do filme Dark Water para cometer esse crime horrível. Outros alegam que foi apenas uma coincidência. E tem ainda quem dedique os créditos do feito a uma entidade sobrenatural. Bom, tudo que sabemos é que o caso foi encerrado como “afogamento acidental”, o que é, de fato, bem duvidoso. Seria esse um caso em que a ficção inspirou a realidade? Contarei a história a seguir e tirem suas conclusões vocês mesmos.



Elisa Lam era uma jovem universitária canadense, estudante da Universidade da Colúmbia Britânica, em Vancouver. Ela tinha apenas 22 anos quando decidiu ir passar as férias em Los Angeles, no bizarro Cecil Hotel. As coincidências já começam aí, uma vez que o nome da menininha de Dark Water é Ceci. Como se não bastasse, o Cecil Hotel é conhecido por já ter sido palco de crimes e habitado por assassinos em série. Uma fama não muito boa, né? Uma curiosidade extra é que ele foi a inspiração para a quinta temporada de American Horror Story. Mas, voltemos para a história. No dia 19 de fevereiro, uma coisa realmente estranha foi captada pelas câmeras de segurança do local. É possível ver Elisa entrando apressada em um elevador e apertando alguns botões no painel. Ela olha para fora cuidadosamente, como se algo ou alguém estivesse a perseguindo, logo depois, volta para dentro do elevador. Ela passa algum tempo fazendo isso, verificando do lado de fora, voltando a se esconder, até que simplesmente saí, meio assustada. Esse é o último registro que se tem da jovem e intrigou bastante as autoridades. Estaria Elisa sendo perseguida?

A verdade é que ninguém sabe, pois não haviam câmeras que mostrassem todos os corredores. A jovem desapareceu e nunca mais foi vista, o que causou uma grande comoção na mídia estadunidense e canadense. Um verdadeiro mutirão foi feito na esperança de encontrar a menina, que, infelizmente, já estava morta desde o dia de seu desaparecimento. Mas… e o corpo? Como foi encontrado? Acontece que, um tempo depois, alguns hospedes começaram a reclamar sobre a água que estava saindo de suas torneiras. Ela parecia meio turva, com um mal cheiro inexplicável, algo simplesmente estava errado. Depois de um tempo (e pilhas de reclamações), os responsáveis pela manutenção do prédio foram até a caixa d’água, que ficava no terraço, para verificar o que estava acontecendo. Eles abriram a pesada tampa e lá encontraram o corpo da jovem que, que já estava entrando em estado de decomposição. Sim, durante alguns dias, a água com os restos mortais de Elisa estava sendo canalizada para todos os apartamentos do local.



A pergunta que ficou no ar foi: O que aconteceu? O vídeo divulgado na mídia chamava muito a atenção. Elisa estava com um comportamento estranho dentro de um elevador também com um comportamento estranho (já que ele não se fechava enquanto a jovem estava lá dentro). Isso poderia ter sido causado por uma forte crise de bipolaridade, doença da qual Elisa sofria. Esse transtorno pode sim causar alucinações em casos graves, no entanto, a jovem parecia bem de saúde e não tinha uma crise havia meses. Outra coisa que levanta questionamentos sobre o laudo final, “afogamento acidental”, é a forma como o corpo foi encontrado. Ela estava completamente nua, com seus pertences e roupas flutuando junto a ela na caixa d’água. A caixa tinha uma tampa extremamente pesada, o que tornava quase impossível ela ter, sozinha, aberto, entrado e fechado o local. Se ela se jogou, como fechou? Outra coisa que chamou a atenção foi que as portas de acesso ao terraço ficavam sempre fechadas, como medida de segurança.

Bom, a verdade é que existem muitas teorias que tentam explicar o que aconteceu com a jovem Elisa Lam, mas a única coisa que se tem certeza é que essa estranha e bizarra coincidência com o filme Dark Water existe. Talvez você não tenha conhecimento disso, mas em alguns lugares do mundo existem seitas que tentam, desesperadamente, cometer crimes inspirados em outros crimes ou em filmes. Algo realmente doentio e macabro.



Essa matéria é a primeira de várias que devem aparecer durante o mês do Halloween. Por isso, se você gosta de filmes e séries de terror, fique de olho. Muitas curiosidades estão por vir! RIP Elisa Lam. A memory for eternity.

We will never forget you. RIP Elisa Lam. Uma memória para a eternidade.

Jamais iremos te esquecer.

[whumpsideblog]

Previous Parts

tag list: @im-not-rare-im-rarr @constellationwhump @justwhumpitwhumpitgood @maybeawhumpblog @lumpofwhump @whumpity--whump--whump @inky-whump @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @ihaventwritteninsolong @stxckfxck

 Again, I wouldn’t say this is the end since I do have at least one more part planned!

 ***

 Alastair was dead. He had killed him, come morning he would be nothing more than ash. They were free, he’d never have to even think of this horrible place again. Why was he crying? Dahlia managed to pull him off of Alastair- off his body, that is, but he stayed on his knees next to him.

 “Silas… it’s over, you’re okay…” She said softly.

 “I- I know, I know, he’s dead, he’s finally dead… oh god he’s dead.” He choked back a sob, screwing his eyes shut. Dahlia hesitated for a moment, before standing up straight.

 “I’m going to find Elise, tell her and the rest of the staff what happened… do you… need a moment…?” She asked softly. He simply nodded in response, listening to her footsteps retreating, the door closing softly behind her. He finally opened his eyes, looking back to the body in front of him. Why was he crying? He angrily wiped at his eyes, trying to make the tears go away, but they just wouldn’t stop.

 He should’ve been relieved, he should’ve been celebrating, grinning from ear to ear and rushing out of there. Instead he sat at the vampire’s side, and he sobbed, bent forward so his head rested on his chest.

 “You fucking b-bastard!” He cried, still clutching the blade in his hand. “You’re dead. You can’t hurt me anymore, you did nothing but hurt me, why the fuck am I crying over you?!” He felt sick, he couldn’t believe he felt so strongly about his death. “After all you did to me, after all you stole from me, you don’t deserve somebody crying over you, least of all me!” He sobbed loudly, unable to stop himself. 

 This man had tormented him, had ended his life as he knew it, and yet he felt a heart wrenching pain knowing he was dead. 

 ***

 Dahlia gave him his space, let him cry and yell and sob, and when his sobbing finally seemed to quiet down she told him it was time to leave.

 He felt like he had cried out every other feeling along with his tears. He almost felt numb as they left the mansion, he couldn’t believe he was actually leaving. He should’ve been relieved, the cool night air should’ve been refreshing, but with each step he took away from the mansion, his sense of dread seemed to grow.

 Reasonably, he knew the only choice was to leave. That had been the plan all along, get in, kill the vampire, get out. Yet, there was a voice in the back of his mind telling him he was wrong. He shouldn’t have left, he didn’t belong out here. He belonged in that mansion, with his master. He wasn’t allowed to leave, he would be punished, he deserved to be punished. Alastair would be so angry with him for leaving, he would be beaten, he wouldn’t be allowed in his bed that day, he would make him regret ever leaving- he was dead. He reminded himself, Alastair was dead, for good this time. He killed him, he didn’t have to fear him anymore, despite what the voice in his head kept telling him.

 The walk home was almost a blur to him, trapped inside his head with his agonizing thoughts over the vampire’s death. Dahlia seemed to think he needed his space, she never pushed him, and he genuinely appreciated that. Before he knew it he was standing in front of his house, he was home.

 He was almost surprised that the little cottage looked exactly how he remembered it. His memories all felt distant and far away, he had accepted he’d never return here and yet here he was, walking up the path to the front door. Dahlia led him inside, and he numbly followed her directions to go to their room and get some rest. It didn’t feel real to him, finally being home. As he made his way back to their room, as he pulled his shoes off and let his hair out of the braid he’d put it in when he got up that evening, he felt like all of this would disappear at any moment. 

 He collapsed on his bed, closing his eyes. He heard Dahlia come into the room and get ready for bed herself, but he was already half asleep. He could hardly remember the last time he felt safe in his own bed, no one to hug him or kiss him or bite him or touch him at all. For the first time since leaving that mansion he felt like maybe he was finally safe, as he drifted off to sleep.

 ***

 He slept through the night and most of the next day, waking up late in the afternoon. He was almost surprised when he woke up to his own room, his own bed, his own house. He was sure it was all a wonderful dream, and he’d wake up back in that mansion in Alastair’s arms. Alastair was dead, he reminded himself. He laid there staring blankly at the ceiling, replaying the events of the previous night in his head. 

 He had killed him. He had stabbed him, over and over again. Silas was known to be a “one stab only” kind of hunter, he didn’t get any sadistic pleasure out of the job like some hunters did, his goal was to kill the vampire, not make them suffer. He’d never prolonged a death like that before, never dragged it out. It turned his stomach to think he could be so sadistic, no better than Alastair and his tendency to find joy in the pain he caused. 

 He thought about how Alastair had tried to beg him to spare his life. Alastair liked to be in control, he knew that much, he liked putting people beneath him. He had broken Silas down completely and yet he still begged for mercy at the end. That voice in the back of his head was telling him he was a monster for killing him anyway. He shouldn’t have felt bad though, when he begged Alastair to spare him he ended up damning him to a fate worse than death, Alastair was lucky that Silas killed him. 

 He had done this for Dahlia, he reminded himself. Alastair was going to kill her, there was no way around it, and if he killed Dahlia then he might as well have killed Silas too. He loved Dahlia with all his heart, he’d always known he’d do anything to protect her, and when he thought about it, he hadn’t done enough. She was still hurt, she was still held captive. Knowing her all of this was weighing on her greatly, but she was forcing herself to be strong for him. He knew he needed to tell her that she didn’t need to.

 Killing Alastair was the right thing to do. He had mentally and physically beaten him into submission, stripped him of his angry and defiant personality. He had taken his sense of security, even curled up in his own bed in his own home he felt like any moment now the vampire would grab him, harm him in someway. He had destroyed everything about Silas and made him into his perfect pet and Silas would never forgive him for that. So why was he still crying? He buried his face in his pillow to muffle his crying, which soon escalated into full on sobbing. 

 He was faced with the same pain he felt the night before, an aching in his chest that just wouldn’t go away. Alastair was dead. There was nothing to fear, no reason to hurt, he should’ve been happy. How was he supposed to forget what he went through if he couldn’t even stop crying?

 Eventually Dahlia came to check on him, and of course she immediately knew something was wrong. He knew she was there the moment she entered the room, and she came and sat down on the edge of the bed. 

 “Silas…? What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare…?” She asked, gently placing a hand on his arm. 

 “N-no… I’m fine…” He murmured, voice muffled by the pillow. She sighed, pulling him onto his back so she could look at him. He glanced away from her, eyes red and burning from crying, his face streaked with tears, and she looked so concerned to see him that way.

 “Here… sit up, please?” She asked softly, and he obediently did as she said. She held her arms open as she always did when offering a hug, and for once he immediately accepted, latching on to her and hugging her tightly. She seemed surprised, and he didn’t blame her given how often he refused hugs, but she hugged him back, running a hand through his tangled hair. He shuddered, remembering how Alastair would constantly do the same. “What’s wrong…?” She asked.

 He wasn’t even sure if he should tell her. It sounded stupid to him, to cry over the vampire who ruined his life. Still, this was Dahlia, and he could tell her anything. He hoped he could anyway.

 “I… I think I’m sad… over mas- Alastair.” He quickly corrected himself, though it only upset him more how ingrained in him the vampire’s training was. “I don’t… know why… I shouldn’t be sad, right…? I hate him, he… he was horrible but I just… can’t… stop crying.” He was getting choked up all over again, despite his best efforts. Dahlia was silent for some time, which just made him anxious. He knew it was stupid, he knew he shouldn’t have said anything. 

 “I think… you’re grieving…” She said slowly. 

 “Over him?!” He cried. “After everything he did to me, how could I possibly fucking grieve him?!”

 “Silas… he made himself a big part of your life for some time… I mean honestly, I was scared that you had just become complacent with living like that… he made himself everything to you, when and where you slept, what you ate and if you could eat at all, how you dressed, what you did that day, he controlled all of it... you must’ve felt something towards him, not necessarily something good but… something strong…”

 He knew she was right. Alastair had become his entire life, his entire world. Everything he did revolved around Alastair, he had been made to respect him. No, it wasn’t respect, it was fear. He feared him at every moment of every day, even now he feared what he would do to him, having to remind himself there was nothing he could do.

 “I told him he couldn’t hurt me anymore, I made sure he knew that before he died. I shouldn’t mourn him, and I shouldn’t be having these awful fucking thoughts that I’m wrong for killing him!” He was getting more and more frustrated as he went on. “He took everything from me, he hurt me, so much, and yet here I am crying over him! He doesn’t deserve my tears, he doesn’t deserve my fucking grief!” He cried. 

 “He doesn’t deserve it, Silas, but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel it…” She sighed, hugging him tightly. “It’s okay that you’re upset, and you can’t just ignore it like you tend to do… if you need to cry over him then go ahead… you don’t have to sit here and do it alone though, Okay?”

 He nodded, only because he knew his voice would crack if he tried to speak. He hated Alastair, more than he’d hated anyone before. He made his life a continuous living hell, he had made him into the one thing he hated most. Here he was though, sobbing, mourning the death of the man who ruined him.

[whumpsideblog]

Home

2385 words of self indulgent backstory and stuff. This is mostly just a rambling thing I wanted to get out, and has no bearing on the actual story with Silas. I have a weird fixation with backstories and there really isn’t space in the main story to go into it so I wanted to get it out here, so it’s very messy and unpolished. Since it’s pretty much all backstory I’m not even tagging it with whump

tw for mentions of past child abuse ***  “Home” was an odd concept to him.

  At one point home had been a cold cell in the basement of a sprawling manor, a building he only saw from the outside when he was being rescued from it. His earliest memories were all there, he assumed that he’d been born in that cell and he knew he was supposed to die in it too. He had vague memories of a mother he couldn’t quite recall clearly aside from a kind voice and dark wavy hair like his own. He knew that she was there at one point and then one day she was gone, and he couldn’t even remember her well enough to miss her. 

 Occasionally other people came through their cell, but him and Dahlia always stayed, though at that point they weren’t “Silas” and “Dahlia”, only “boy” and “girl”. He remembered their actions better than their faces, remembered the ones who were kind and treated them as the vulnerable children they were and the ones who would gladly throw them to the vampires before ever sacrificing themselves. None of them lasted long though, some of them fought too hard, some not hard enough, and some were just brought in too “late” in life.

 His master preferred young blood, when they got to a certain age they would be “disposed of”. He knew that one day they’d be disposed of too, Dahlia first, and then him two years later. He only knew his age because their master liked to remind them of their expiration date, ironically the same as their birthdays. He didn’t want to die, naturally it upset him knowing his death was decided since he was born, but it always upset him more knowing he’d have to live two years without Dahlia by his side.

 And then they were rescued. He was twelve years old, Dahlia fourteen, when the scariest man he’d ever seen- even scarier than their master- entered their cell and told them they were safe. He didn’t feel safe, in fact he was terrified, they weren’t allowed to ever leave that cell, much less the manor itself. They both panicked, they refused to leave at first and eventually the man just lifted them both up, one thrown over his shoulder and the other held under his arm and carried them out. At the time Silas thought he was the strongest man ever, not thinking about the fact they were severely underweight, only ever given food before they were fed on. 

 He remembered the moment they were brought outside, it was hard to see at all, his eyes weren’t used to such bright sunlight, and despite the fact it hurt he was desperate to see the outside world. He’d loved the sun from the moment he stepped outside though, he loved the warmth, the brightness. He missed it dearly now.

 After that home was living with the hunter, Vernon, and his husband, Theo. Vernon was tall, broad and terrifying, he had thick dark hair that he wore long and a scarred, angry face that always softened when he looked at Theo. His husband was tall and lithe, with long blonde hair and a gentle voice that would calm Vernon in an instant. Though they feared them at first, the two men showed nothing but love for each other and love for them.

 When they were first brought into their home they had offered them separate rooms but didn’t force it when they refused to leave each other. They never forced them to do anything they weren’t comfortable with, they always asked before so much as grabbing their arm or giving them a hug, and they did everything to make sure they felt safe in their home. When they confessed they had no names beyond “boy” and “girl” they took the time to find names they���d both like, always running ideas by them. In the meantime Vernon had affectionately nicknamed them, as he did with near everybody, “little dagger” and “little flower”. 

 Dahlia had always loved hearing that, the first time she saw flowers was outside their house and she fell in love immediately. She seemed to love everything pretty and Silas remembered how often she said she wanted to be pretty, but he never understood that. She’d always been very pretty to him. 

 As for him, they said that he was sharp and angry, and admittedly, he was. At least, that was how he presented himself so they wouldn’t have to know how scared he was. He snapped and lashed out often, all the attitude and rage he had to keep locked up around his master he took out on them. They were patient though, they tolerated his outbursts and his foul language, and by the time they suggested the name “Silas” he had grown comfortable enough to feel safe there.

 His thirteenth birthday was the first one that didn’t make him miserable. With their master, birthdays only served to remind them how little time they had left, he memorized the dates of all his victims just to mock them. On their twenty fifth they would be killed, every birthday leading up to that they would be mocked and reminded just how short their lives would be, if he was feeling “generous” they’d be whipped, given a lash for every year they’d been alive. 

 Vernon and Theo celebrated them though, they took them out that day and let him pick anything he wanted from the market, they made his favorite meal that night and even a cake. Neither was exactly a master baker, it was too sweet and horribly messy and he loved it so much he sat at the table and cried. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this much love from someone who wasn’t Dahlia, and he was so incredibly thankful to these men who had no reason to care for them, yet loved them with all their hearts. 

 His gift to himself that day was the decision that the first twelve years of his life didn’t exist. Twelve years of misery and pain did not exist to him, he did not have a master, he was never held captive as a food source to vampires. He didn’t need those twelve years, as far as he cared, he’d been here with the people he loved his whole life. That same year, he decided he wanted to be a hunter.

 At first, all of them were against it. Vernon said it was too dangerous, that Silas was too small and skinny and would only get hurt, Theo and Dahlia agreed with him. Over time though, with enough begging and pleading, Vernon finally gave in, and Dahlia quickly followed him because she felt that if she didn’t he would do something horribly stupid and get hurt. Despite the fact he wanted it so badly, Vernon allowed Dahlia to train before him, as fifteen was the minimum age they could be trained at. He was happy he agreed at all though, he was fifteen when he began training and seventeen when he was handed his own blade.

  After that home was just them. The men had no plans to force them out, but did suggest some independence, and they made their home in a different village that happily welcomed them. The people adored Dahlia, she was kind and social and overall a lovely person. She had her angry side that was usually saved for Silas, but even then he just believed her to be strong, she was brave, she didn’t take shit from anyone while still being sweet and polite, and he envied her so much. He didn’t know how to handle people, he got overwhelmed easily and sometimes snapped at people without meaning to, and he often felt that he was better off alone. 

 It was in this village that he was able to define “home” for himself. Home was where Dahlia was, she had been the one constant between all these places. It wasn’t just a place that he lived, because he never really “lived” in that cell, he was kept there, forced there against his will and only existed to die. Living with Vernon and Theo had been wonderful, but it was supposed to be temporary, even when they first took them in they didn’t plan to basically adopt them, and even though they did in the end, they had to grow up and leave sometime. He didn’t know how long they would live in this village, if they’d get up and move again or if they would live there for the rest of their lives, but as long he was with Dahlia, then he was home. 

 He knew this raised a problem, while he was content with spending his life with Dahlia he didn’t expect her to feel the same way. She was a wonderful person, incredibly beautiful, and he knew that someday she would most likely find someone who she wanted to be with forever. He would be happy for her, and he’d never keep her from that kind of love, because she deserved to be happy. Of course, he wasn’t quite sure what he would do with himself when that happened. 

 He then forced himself to accept Alastair as his new home. He fought it until he was turned, which is when he realized that he would be better off with Alastair than anywhere else. Alastair had made himself as important to Silas as Dahlia was, in a much more twisted manner. He loved Dahlia so much because they had been together forever, because she had cared for him so deeply, protected him when she shouldn’t have had to. She knew him better than anyone in the world, and he knew she would always be there for him, and he would always be there for her.

 Alastair started by separating him from his home, even if he didn’t realize it. Silas spent nearly all his free time with Dahlia, hell, most of the time he worked with her too, and now he was away from her and Alastair was all he had. He kept his contact with the staff limited, and he dragged Silas along with him throughout the day all day every day. If he wanted to speak to someone then it would have to be Alastair, if he wanted to do anything then he would have to ask Alastair for permission, Alastair controlled every moment of every day for him. 

 Even once Dahlia was there Alastair limited their time together. It killed him to know she was there but he couldn’t see her or talk to her, if he even spoke about her too much Alastair would get angry. The time they did have together was often ruined, the vampire always ended up hurting one of them.

 Then he turned him. He forced Silas to become the one thing he hated most, after destroying everything that made him him, he took his humanity as well. He made him believe that he shouldn’t even try to leave, and Silas began to feel that Dahlia would be better off without him. He didn’t know what to do without her, so he forced himself to accept the fact that Alastair was his new home, his new life really. He would be obedient and docile, he would behave for him because if he didn’t he had no idea what would happen to him. An eternity was a long time, a long time that Alastair could use to make him miserable, so he was better off giving in.

 The prospect of Dahlia being killed was what finally snapped him out of this. It didn’t matter what he was, it didn’t matter what would happen to him after all this, nothing mattered but Dahlia. He killed the man he accepted as his new life, and just like that he was being returned to his old life, his old house, his home with Dahlia, that he thought he would never ever see again. 

 He didn’t know if he had a home anymore. He had a house that he lived in, with the person he loved most, but he had accepted his new home was away from Dahlia and here they were together again. He didn’t worry so much about her leaving him in the form of finding a real relationship though, while he always saw that as a “when” situation it realistically was an “if”, as it was for everyone. What there was no “if” about though was the fact that someday Dahlia would die. Sure he had to worry about that before, but since leaving their “master” it didn’t weigh on him the way it did before. At least there was the guarantee that he would follow her, and once they left their master it became more likely he would die first with his horribly reckless tendencies. But he couldn’t die now, unless he was killed or decided to kill himself. He didn’t like the sound of either of those, he didn’t want immortality, he wanted to someday die a natural death. 

 “Home” was an odd concept to him. He couldn’t define it the way he used to because he knew it would only cause him pain, and what right did he even have to place that kind of importance on Dahlia in the first place? He’d never told her how he felt about this, he wasn’t exactly a big fan of feelings and certainly didn’t enjoy sharing them. It didn’t feel right to tell her though, she was too selfless, she gave up too much for him, the thought of her ever giving up her own life to stay with him, to be his “home” made him sick with guilt. 

 He knew that a home was actually defined as where someone lived permanently, but nothing felt permanent to him. He was comfortable here, yes, but it always felt like it would be ripped away at any moment. Dahlia was permanent, except she wasn’t, she could, and someday would, die. Alastair had been permanent, he’d accepted that he would always be with him because Alastair was immortal, just like Silas now was. But he killed Alastair, so in the end it looked like the only thing permanent was himself. 

 He didn’t know if he could ever be his own home.