#WHOOPS your motivation to write is now gone

[auburnflight]

Gotta love going on AO3 to either get inspiration or just enjoy ourselves and compliment some people's art, and then getting reminded how specific our triggers are :')

[foone]

I see a lot of people joking about the adhd thing of "I have a appointment/phone call at 3pm, guess I won't do anything all day!"

But no one seems to make the connection that it's a time blindness thing. One of the symptoms of ADHD is not having a good and accurate sense of time. And not doing stuff prior to an event with a hard deadline is an obvious coping mechanism for that.

Can I go to the store? It's 10am and the appointment is at 3pm. How long does going to the store take? An hour? Three hours? Five hours? I DON'T KNOW!

I get anxious trying to do things before appointments because I'm aware that I don't know how long those things take, and that if I think I do, I may be very wrong. Too often I've been like "hey I can walk to the corner store and grab a drink, that'll take like 15 minutes!" and then an hour later I get back and whoops my rice has burnt.

Plus there's also the fact that ADHD people know that motivation and focus is a two-edged sword.

Like, let's say you decide to play a video game. You've got time, you can pause/save whenever, so this should be a perfect fit to make good use of your waiting-time. So you start playing and WHOOPS you get really focused for some reason today (because people with ADHD do not get to pick when their brain decides to focus) and the next time you look at the clock it's 2:49 and you haven't showered or dressed and the appointment is 30 minutes away. Fuck. (you could have set an alarm, but now you're asking people with the forgetting-things-and-time-ignoring condition to remember it set alarms)

And with motivation, it can be almost worse. Instead of playing a game, you so something useful or creative. You clean your room or fix your plumbing or write a story or draw a picture. And suddenly it's great. Your brain is firing on all cylinders. You've got all the motivation you can ask for, and you are FLYING. the ideas are brilliant, your hands are nimble, you're getting stuff done you've been putting off for weeks or months. And then the alarm goes off. Time to go to your appointment. Fuck.

You drive there, your brain still full of ideas and plans. But by the time you get back, the motivation is gone. You may still have the ideas but you don't have the drive to write them down. You can't force yourself to do it. Your sink is still in pieces. Your room is half-cleaned, and you have to shove all the sorted clothes into one big bin just so you have somewhere to sleep. You've left things half finished again, in a cycle that has been repeating your whole fucking life. It seems sometimes that nothing ever gets finished.

So next time you don't even start. There's not time. You've been burnt too many times. Why add another half-completed project to your pile of shame?

My point is that people seem to be going "lol I can't do anything all day if I have an appointment at 3pm" like this is a quirky "oh I'm so scatterbrained!" weirdness they alone have, and not a major complication of a disabling mental illness.

(and that's not even getting into the secondary effects. If you know that having an appointment ruins your whole damn day, you're going to avoid them. Even when it's things like "going to that party" or "meeting your friends for a drink/game" or "going to a movie with that cute girl from your math class". Things you should enjoy. Things that'd help you be social. Things that make you feel human.)

[the-sunbee]

building on point 1 here rq:

Fable singing "Give in to hate" can also signify his hatred for how the world works - by taking everything he has ever cared for away from him, how he grew to hate the system of him raising his people only to watch them die and ascend into his brother's kingdom instead. How he hated seeing his people die, to see the end of life and how he decided he had to hate the world in order for him to take control of it.

Cause if he doesn't feel anything for the world, if he hates everything and cares for nothing, then the world is that much easier to conquer and make his own.

And perhaps then he can change what he cares most about - mortality.

Having a child of his own didn't help the situation, it changed him more. He saw the carelessness of his child, how they ran around and got scrapes and bruises; how they jumped off high places for their wings to take off and how every time he feared that they would hurt themselves to no end and would join his people's fate.

How much of the world must he hate; how much of himself must he hate to be willing to do the things he had to, to continue in this path?

Not to mention "Give in to the hate" can also signify the fact that he grew to hate his siblings for not seeing his side. How Enderian and Netherum ran their kingdoms with the knowledge that all things must end, or perhaps they didn't even concern themselves with such matters.

And the story he wove around his brother's kingdom's fall... How he gave the people someone to hate - his sister and sibling - and how he grew to hate them more over time for not taking his side, for not giving up their powers amicably and instead he had to resort to fighting them.

Oh, how he must hate that.

Omg I'm analyzing this new cmv again that's crazy /sarc

Ok anyways I've got 3 parts that are scratching my brain

Isla singing "you can be an angel of mercy" she married Fable to save her kingdom, to save her people so <i>maybe<i> he didn't attack like he had with every other kingdom

Fable then coming in at "or give in to hate" Something something him being looked down upon for not only presenting as mortal <i> as well as marrying her<i>

Point number 2

Isla singing the lyrics as Fable puts her veil up "With ⏃ million lies the truth will come to tear you apart"

⟟ mean it did didn't it? She probably confronted him at some point about everything, especially when Ick started getting taken, bc her fleeing with Ick at some point has to have ⏃ reason behind it, and he wanted control over her and he lost it when she fled

Point 3

The 2 of then dancing during the chorus to signify the wedding, all ⟟ can think about is the world falling around them and just- them dancing around it as if nothing is happening and mhmmmm /pos

[briardoll]

The Obey Me! Side datables (+ Luke) react to seeing your human form for the first time!

(This comes from the idea that you were actually in sheep form during the exchange program until you went back to the human world, scroll down through my posts for reference)

Also I’m so so sorry I was gone so long I lost motivation and couldn’t write anything for a while but guess what? We are so back!! (I might disappear again idk yet)

Diavolo finds that you look very close to what he thought you would (he already knew), he compliments your hair and your face and he likes your hands a lot. They’re so much smaller than his! Most people are smaller than him but you really take the cake, after all humans are much shorter and weaker physically compared to demons or angels, he asks you to stay for dinner with him and Barbatos and insists on treating you to a nice night in! A slumber party just for you and him, but don’t expect to do much that doesn’t come from the book ‘Youthful Fun 101”. Maybe try teaching him some human world memes! …Or don’t actually.. he might start saying them in the wrong situations out of context. Whoops.

Barbatos knew what you looked like but was still pleasantly surprised to see you look like you in person. He also enjoys your hands.??? What is with the royal palace and hands? He likes how they look holding pens, utensils, teacups, you name it. If you ask, he’ll select outfits that will make you look very elegant and classy, perfect for a date with the young Lord! Or him, if you’d be willing to wait for a break to be had. (aka a long long time, but if you do, you’re guaranteed to have a tremendous time)

Simeon heard your voice ring through purgatory hall, a thing his ears cherish, he turns to see a sweet yet unfamiliar figure standing in the doorway, a pretty smile on your face and the eyes he couldn’t stop staring into your eyes, they gave away your identity without you having to re-introduce yourself. “MC! You certainly look different today, please, come in, I’m making BLT’s for lunch, I’ll prepare one for you too!” You happily accepted his offer and lunch was great!

Luke got word that you had a bit of a surprise waiting in the kitchen, which is good because he’s been meaning to have you try the cupcakes he’s been tweaking the recipe to. Walking into the kitchen there’s… a random person? Is that you, or someone else? You see him and go to hug him, and say that you got his message about the cupcakes and will try them after lunch, but, he doesn’t care about that now, he’s more interested in your new style! The difference is astounding, your hair and your face and everything! You look like a real human! He thought you actually had pink hair so he was somewhat surprised it wasn’t actually lol.

Solomon is the first to see you, and since you have some alone time, he cups your face in his hands and moves them to run his fingers through your hair. He’s so in love it’s crazy, being with you makes him feel young, and somewhat like a.. normal human? The casualty between you makes him feel less like the great sorcerer and king Solomon, instead he feels like just, Solomon. With you nothing is boring, and if you want to really excite him, you can use those soft sweet lips to give him a kiss or two?

[psuedosugu]

Ohhhh my golly I saw your Vox x daughter reader an it got me thinking now HEAR ME OUT….what if reader got bored on day an just went for a walk and somehow came across Alastor, now let’s say Alastor’s a lil confused like he never knew Vox had a daughter and readers like *sad sigh* “I’d be surprised if anyone knew” an Alastors all fatherly to her at first it was to get dirt on Vox without reader realizing but in the end he just liked hanging out with her. Eventually Vox noticed how his daughter is gone half the time but reader just convinces her dad that she’s always home and how HES the one always away. Change the ending how you see fit or do whatever you like but UGH I love your writing stay hydrated and eat wellll🩵

assjjjkkj thank youuu the amount of feedback ive gotten on this acc that ive only been posting on for like 3 days is insane, anyways this is such an interesting idea omgee

cw: reader having some emotionally absent daddy issues

fem reader

pt 1 here

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

͙͘͡★ || so you had just gone out on an innocent walk, right?

͙͘͡★ || well, technically snuck out since your dad doesn’t like you going out by yourself.

͙͘͡★ || theres bad people out there! what if you got kidnapped or something?

͙͘͡★ || no one recognizes you, of course, since he doesn’t really talk about you let alone shows you to the public.

͙͘͡★ || you appreciate him for that, you guess, it must be annoying to not be able to go anywhere without a bunch of microphones in your face.

͙͘͡★ || you just wish he was around more! he barely makes any time for you and yeah, his work is super important and time consuming but you’re his daughter!

͙͘͡★ || lost in thought, you bump into a dude in the sidewalk.

͙͘͡★ || “whoops! excuse me, ma’am!”, he says in a weird, static-ish voice.

͙͘͡★ || your skeleton almost jumps out of your skin when you look up.

͙͘͡★ || the radio demon, the guy that your dad has had beef with since you were little

͙͘͡★ || you just stare at him with a “ :o “ look on your face, not knowing if you should run or not.

“little girl, are you, um, alright?” he stares down at you, slightly confused.

“im…uhhh…im okay!”

“you��ve heard of me, i suppose.”

“i guess…. my dad doesn’t really like you.”

“and who might your father be, hm?”

“yk the tv dude? the one thats, like, everywhere? yeah, that him.”

“hmm…interesting…i wasn’t aware he had a daughter…”

“well, he doesn’t really talk about…..”

͙͘͡★ || at this point you stop blabbing mid sentence, realizing you probably shouldn’t have said all of that to his sworn enemy.

͙͘͡★ || what if he does kidnap you and holds you for ransom?

͙͘͡★ || but he doesn’t do that, surprisingly.

͙͘͡★ || he asks you why you’re out alone so late and you shrug, saying that your dad wasn’t really there to stop you.

͙͘͡★ || you were naive and alastor was planning to use that to his advantage, not to hurt you, but to hurt vox.

͙͘͡★ || what would he think when he found out that his own daughter was buddy-buddy with his sworn enemy?

͙͘͡★ || he’d feel like a failure of a father, and thats what alastor wanted, to get under his skin.

͙͘͡★ || you guys walked while you told him everything, about him being away all the time, about you feeling lonely, while he nodded along

͙͘͡★ || you guys even stopped at one of those old timey bar places and bought you a milkshake!

͙͘͡★ || eventually you headed home, your dad hadn’t noticed you had been gone which figures.

͙͘͡★ || this became routine, you hung out with alastor and he gave you advice and stuff. you thought that if he had an ulterior motive it would’ve shown itself by now but no, it hadn’t.

͙͘͡★ || alastor himself had started to forget why he had even started all of this. he found himself enjoying your company and actually caring about you.

͙͘͡★ || after a while vox started to notice that he’s been seeing you less than he usually does.

͙͘͡★ || i mean, the tower is big but cmon! there were days where he would barely see you at all! where were you going?

͙͘͡★ || he confronted you about it at dinner one day.

“[name], dearest, i cant help but notice that i haven’t been seeing you around much lately. what’ve you been up to?”

͙͘͡★ || you pause, looking up from your food.

“i, um, dont know what you’re talking about.”

͙͘͡★ || he furrows his (virtual) eyebrows.

“is that so?”

“mhm!”

͙͘͡★ || vox is reasonably skeptical and resorts to spying on you through your smartwatch because of course you have a voxtech branded smartwatch!

͙͘͡★ || hes absolutely livid when he finds out who you’ve been sneaking out to be with and he’s waiting for you when you get home.

͙͘͡★ || you’re indefinitely grounded until he says so and he starts tracking where you go in the tower.

͙͘͡★ || he knows that its a violation of privacy and stuff but dont you see that he’s trying to protect you? alastor is dangerous! he doesn’t get how you didn’t see it earlier.

͙͘͡★ || alastor does succeed on what he set out to do, though. vox is distraught, feeling like a horrible father. he even vents to valentino about it out of all the people!

“-i mean, what kind of father doesn’t even notice their own child sneaking out in broad daylight every day? i should’ve paid more attention to her, im a failure!”

“mhm….yeah….”

͙͘͡★ || val obviously doesn’t give a shit.

͙͘͡★ || after not bumping into you for a while and seeing the up in vox slandering him online, alastor figures what happened.

͙͘͡★ || he’s glad that he succeeded in his mission to bother vox further but does miss talking to you.

͙͘͡★ || vox does vow to make more time for you and be a more attentive dad, so i guess some good comes out of this.

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

i do requests!

check out my masterlist!

[thrillered]

You know I Mountain Dew it for ya Pt.1 | Spencer Agnew x F! Reader |

You started working at Smosh when you were 26, a few years after graduating college. In your down time you wrote and produced your own music. Not that you had much down time, which wasn’t necessarily a problem, you loved your job, you got to work with some of the most creative, talented, and hilarious people you’ve ever met. After working on it for months you finally finished writing and producing your latest single "Espresso". The song blows up but Smosh fans begin to wonder if the song is about her dear friend and coworker Spencer Agnew.

*Every piece of this work is fictional. I was inspired by Sabrina Carpenters song Espresso when I noticed how much it could apply to Spencer lol, I did NOT write or produce Espresso*

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Pt. 1: Lunch

“Hello everyone!! And welcome back to another TRY NOT TO LAUGH!” Amanda started, a burst of energy shooting throughout the sound stage. “Don’t worry, we’ve heard your requests so we grabbed Josh to do another MUSICAL episode!”

The cast cheered, you smiled as you stayed ducked behind them. “Because we’re doing a musical episode we invited the one and only Y/N to join us!” Courtney smiled, the group— Amanda, Courtney, Shayne, Angela, and Chanse— splitting to allow you to pop up. 

“Hey everyone!!” You began, the cast and crew clapping and giving whoops of encouragement. “Okay, okay, that’s enough you’re making me blush” you joked, hands behind your back and twisting your foot.

“Don’t stop blushing yet Y/N, we aren’t done talking about you.” Chanse added, shaking your shoulder. 

“We may or may not have had ulterior motives for this musical episode.” Amanda continued. “We invited Y/N to join us because she is releasing a new song!”

“AND because I'm hilariously witty, right?” you joked, causing shayne to roll his eyes. “But! Yes, the day this releases my new single “Espresso” will be premiering at 10 pm PST, like, everywhere you get your music! This song is super fun so I hope you guys like it!” The group cheered and with that the round began.  

With Amanda in the stool first you decided to bust out your Sarah Christ impression for a beautiful ballad about how no establishments will let you smoke in them anymore. Amanda was quick to laugh, almost spraying you in the face, followed by a compliment about how good your Sarah Christ was. 

The game went by smoothly, or as smoothly as a smosh video goes, everyone making each other laugh. During your time in the stool Shayne sang, or rather yelled, one of the lowest notes you'd ever heard. You stayed strong until he had been holding the same note for probably 10 seconds and his face turned the most pained shade of red. 

“Oh thank god!” He said, leaning his hands on his knees as he caught his breath, “I think I would have gone until I passed out” 

The final round ended and you began the outro with applause, “That was so much fun! I demand to be invited to every musical TNTL from now on. Thank you guys so much for watching, we hope you laughed just as much as we did.” 

“Don't forget to stream “Espresso” by Y/N!” Chanse added, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder. 

“It’s SO good! Like, I swear to god, it's been stuck in my head since I heard it for the first time.” Angela added.

“And with that we must part ways..” You began, in a deep melodic tone. “Don’t forget to like and subscribe and check out one of these two videos on your screen! Okay bye!” 

—-

That was two weeks ago and the Try Not To Laugh was being posted today. Your single premiering tonight.  

You sat at your desk, anxiously bouncing your heel as you tried to focus on the doc in front of you. You were supposed to meet with the games team later that afternoon to discuss possible creatives for some upcoming live streams. But the only thing you could focus on was what people would think about your song. 

You aren’t new to making music. In fact, you’ve been writing it since college and even performing it at some open mics and small gigs. But, most people who knew you online knew you from Smosh, not from your musical career. You had about 3,000 monthly listeners, which always astounded you, but this was the first time that you were releasing music that was being promoted by such a large online entity. 

“Keep shaking like that and you’ll cause an earthquake” You turned to see Spencer approaching your desk, hands in his pockets. You opened your mouth to respond but he cut you off, “Everyone is gonna love your song, Y/N. You don’t need to worry.”

“You haven't even heard it yet, Spence” You retorted, having made Spencer (Along with the rest of the cast, minus Angela) swear that he would wait until the release party to listen to it. You leaned your head on your chair to look at him as he sits next to you. 

“Yes, but, you would only put out something good so I trust that the song slaps.” Spencer tried to ease your running mind, only to get a huff in return. “Okay fine.” He began, standing and grabbing your phone while simultaneously turning off your monitor. 

“Wha- Hey” You started, trying to stop him but reacting too slowly.

“We are going out to lunch.” Spencer said, matter of factly.

“But what about the games meeting?” You asked.

“Got moved back an hour, don’t you look at the slack?” he chastised.

“Okay, but isn’t everyone going out tonight anyway?” You questioned, remembering that some of the cast and crew insisted on going out to celebrate your song release.

“Yeah but that’s everyone.” Spencer began, already walking towards the door, “Consider this your pre-game with your best friend.” 

“A pre-game at..” You looked at your barren wrist, “two pm?” 

“One: you’re not wearing a watch. And two: okay, a social pre-game. Plus, I’m not taking no for an answer, so come on and let your wonderful best friend buy you lunch.”  Begrudgingly you agreed. You walked side by side to Spencer's car, him opening the passenger door for you before rounding the front and getting in the drivers side. 

You smiled as you realized where he was taking you. He took you to a little hole-in-the-wall ramen place you two had discovered the year prior. It quickly became you and Spencer's own little spot. Neither of you ever went there without the other unless it meant stopping by to take it to go on the way to the other's apartment for a game or movie night. 

The older Japanese-American couple that owned the restaurant greeted you with warm smiles, “The usual?” the husband, Kenji, asked. 

You both nodded as you took a seat in one of the four small booths that lined the wall. The comforting smell of hot broth and spices calmed your anxious mind as you closed your eyes to take a deep inhale. You and Spencer talked about some upcoming shoots and how his Baldur's Gate 3 save was going as you waited for the food to arrive. 

 It didn’t take long for Emi, the other owner, to bring out your food, “You two are just the cutest, such a wonderful young couple.” She cooed.

“Oh we’re not-” 

“Thank you Mrs. Ito, that's so sweet, we really love coming here.” You cut Spencer off, smiling at the woman's kindness. She walked off, heading to grab an order for a driver. 

You turned to find Spencer staring at you with an eyebrow slightly raised. “What?” You asked, sipping on the steaming broth.

“So you think we’re the ‘most wonderful young couple’ huh?”

“Of course I do honeybun.” You jested, leaning over the table and tapping Spencer's cheek sarcastically. Resuming your meal as Spencer rolls his eyes.

The rest of your lunch is pleasant, filled with chatter about everything yet nothing. You tried to pay for your lunch when Mrs. Ito brings the bill but Spencer insists on covering it since he wanted to take you to lunch to distract you. 

“Thank you spence, I really needed that.” You said, grabbing Spencer’s hand in thanks as you walked back into the office. 

He squeezed your hand lightly, “I always know what you need.” And he did, Spencer was a consistent support system for you, had been since you began at Smosh. Beginning as an editor you worked with Spencer a lot. Your friendship blossomed over a shared love of movies and games. 

Over the years you got closer and closer until you were unequivocally best friends. Weekly movie nights, breakfast, lunch, and dinner dates solidified that years ago. Now there’s hardly any time you spend without each other. 

You walked hand in hand to the conference room, ready for the games meeting now that your head was clear.

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Robbie, Playoff Willy, various Scouts; pull yourself up by the jockstrap

For the prompt: A little more of Robbie's time with the Scouts - Cup party, with the Tweedles and Willy, maybe Julius & Erin. Your choice - just more of that.

(I'm not here, but the tumblr queue is! Well. Probably.)

“Now, I know I have no right to talk about maturity,” Robbie says, then promptly ducks the jock that comes flying at him, the rest of his message going undelivered.

“No throwing shit at teammates’ heads during playoffs!” Playoff Willy yells.

“It wouldn’t hit him in the head if he wasn’t so short!” Bender says. “I misjudged!”

“Misjudging is not acceptable during playoffs!” Playoff Willy says. Robbie wants to write a book of his sayings. Like Sun Tzu but for maladjusted athletes who don’t know how to lose. Which is pretty much all pro athletes, in Robbie’s experience, so it might even sell.

Robbie nudges at the limp jock with his socked foot. It looks sad. Defeated, even. “Bro, when was the last time you replaced this?”

Bender looks to Playoff Willy, like he’s waiting for Robbie to get yelled at, though Robbie’s pretty sure Playoff Willy cares a hell of a lot less about feelings than he does about potential head injuries. Or like — anything. The only feelings Playoff Willy cares about are like, motivation. And probably bloodlust.

“Pike has a point,” Playoff Willy says. “That shit is falling apart.”

“But I wore it in!” Bender says. “None of the other ones fit right.”

Robbie pokes it a little further from him. The visitor’s room floor is sketchy as fuck, but he doesn’t think he can do the thing any damage at this point.

The elastic snaps. Well, snaps is a strong word. The elastic’s too damn worn for that, so it’s less a dramatic death and more feebly giving up on the last thread of life remaining.

“Whoops,” Robbie says. Maybe he should have considered that the thing was an antique before he started poking at it.

“Willy, look what he did!” Bender says. “That was my lucky jock!”

“How lucky can it be when we just lost the game?” Playoff Willy growls.

Bender is, thankfully, smart enough to realize that’s a rhetorical question.

“Still up a game, Playoff Willy,” Money says, and Playoff Willy shoots him a glare, but doesn’t say anything.

Robbie’s still impressed that Money’s got the balls to call him Playoff Willy to his face, and even more impressed that Playoff Willy lets him. Everybody knows Money is his favorite, but as the playoffs have gone on, that seems to buy less and less leeway. Money told him from the get-go that the longer the playoff run, the worse Playoff Willy got. Robbie didn’t really believe him, or maybe didn’t want to, but he’s got to say, Playoff Willy during the Conference Finals is a whole different beast than the first round. Emphasis on beast, there. If he mauled someone Robbie wouldn’t even be surprised. Unless they were playing well, he guesses.

Thankfully, Robbie’s been doing okay for himself, shutting down the guys he needs to shut down, so he’s also currently in Playoff Willy’s good books, at least enough that he doesn’t fear mauling.

“I’ve had that for eight years,” Bender moans.

“That’s fucking gross, dude,” Robbie says. “Genuinely. I did you a favor.”

Bender throws a glove at him. Thankfully, it doesn’t appear to have been around for two presidential terms.

“If I have to leave next game because I got nut shot, that’s on you, Pike,” Bender says.

“Bro, if you go onto the ice without a jock Playoff Willy will cup check you himself,” Robbie says.

He winces, but either Playoff Willy didn’t notice the slip, or Robbie’s earned even more grace than he thought.

“He isn’t wrong,” Playoff Willy says. “Normally I wouldn’t, since it’s a chickenshit play, and an auto major, but I don’t think they really care if it’s your own teammate.”

“Refs won’t give a shit,” Scratch says. “Social media probably won’t shut up about how he slept with your wife, though.”

“I can make it look like an accident,” Playoff Willy says. Robbie does not doubt him even a little.

His brow furrows a moment later. “I don’t have a wife,” he says, sounding almost unsure.

That would be kind of suspicious, but Robbie’s learned that’s just how Playoff Willy talks about anything non-hockey related, like first he has to go consult with normal Willy, who’s being held hostage somewhere inside him.

“That could not matter less to idiots on twitter,” Scratch says.

“Last round they said I slept with your wife,” Money says.

“Why did you sleep with my wife?” Playoff Willy asks, then, after checking with kidnapped Willy again, “You’re openly gay.”

“Like I said,” Scratch says. “Could not care less about your actual relationship status. Or sexuality, apparently.”

“Scratch is still mad about it,” Joey says.

“I’m not mad about it,” Scratch says. “I just think people should do basic—“

“I fixed it!” Bender says. “I fixed it, guys! All it needed was a little super glue.”

Robbie has such a bad feeling about this. Bender’s honestly lucky his balls have survived this long: that elastic was literally holding on by a thread.

“You don’t want kids, right?” Robbie asks.

“Oh yeah,” Bender says. “Not quite yet, but Lacey and I are—“

“Oh, give me that fucking thing,” Playoff Willy says.

Super glue isn’t going do shit to save Bender’s jock after Playoff Willy and a pair of scissors get through with it.

“Have some respect for your testicles,” Playoff Willy hisses, and then marches the remains of Bender’s jock to the trash can.

That one's an instant classic. Robbie is adding it to the book of Playoff Willy for sure.

“That’s one for the book of Willy,” Harvard says. Obviously Robbie didn’t need telling, but he does appreciate that it’s becoming a collaborative effort.

“Hah,” Robbie says. “Testicles.”

“Willy,” Harvard agrees.

“What are you two giggling about?” Playoff Willy growls.

“Nothing,” they chorus, ducking their heads so they don’t accidentally meet Playoff Willy’s eyes. That’s a mistake Robbie isn’t making again.

“It was so comfortable,” Bender mumbles. “Like wearing nothing at all.”

“Yeah, buddy, we know,” Scratch says. “That was kind of the problem.”

“So comfy,” Bender whispers.

*

Robbie’s never been to a funeral for a jock before, but he guesses there’s a first time for everything.

“R.I.P.,” Money says. “Like rest in peace. Not like rip. Though that is what you did.”

“Before getting hacked to pieces by a madman,” Scratch says.

“May you find peace and serenity in—“

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” Playoff Willy says.

“Scatter!” Money says, and they all flee. Well, Robbie doesn’t. Not because he doesn’t want to, but he’s fucking exhausted. Plus, he blocked a shot last game, and anything faster than an amble makes his leg throb like a bitch.

“What the fuck were they doing?” Playoff Willy asks.

“Funeral for the jock we murdered,” Robbie says. Well, Robbie’s crime was jockslaughter at most, but that’s not important.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Playoff Willy says, then bows his head, eyes closed. He doesn’t move for a good minute, and Robbie’s shifting uncomfortably, wondering if he's finally snapped just like the jock did, and if getting Money will help or just make it worse.

He startles when Willy speaks, murmuring, “Sorry I killed you.”

Presumably — hopefully — he’s talking to the jock, rather than saying it to Robbie just before he kills him. Robbie reminds himself he’s safe. He blocks shots.

“It was for his safety, and the greater good,” Playoff Willy says. “Thank you for your years of service.”

He opens his eyes then, and Robbie accidentally meets his eye.

Shit. He wasn’t supposed to do that. He doesn’t think he was supposed to see that either.

“I won’t tell anyone about this,” Robbie says.

Playoff Willy’e eyes narrow.

“Because there’s nothing to tell,” Robbie says.

“You’re a quick learner, Lombardi,” Playoff Willy says. “I like that about you.”

“I block shots too,” Robbie says, just to make sure Playoff Willy remembers his utility.

“You block shots too,” Playoff Willy murmurs, then nods to himself.

“Integral part of the team,” Robbie says, then, aware he’s over-selling it, he awkwardly shoots Playoff Willy two thumbs up.

Playoff Willy’s brow furrows, then, after a long consult with the normal Willy tied up in the basement of his brain, he gives Robbie two thumbs up back.

[undercoveravenger]

Motivators

Pairing: Isaac Lahey x Scientist!Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: “okay for the spooky request could you write Isaac lahey x scientist reader who doesn’t believe in the supernatural but they are hunting a ghost and reader and Isaac make a bet where if they do find the ghost reader owes Isaac a kiss or something”

A/N: This is the third fic in the 2023 Spooky Month event! The next post will release on Tuesday, October 24th. Hope you enjoy!

-----

While your best friend Scott McCall and his pack were no strangers to your lab, you still found yourself a bit on edge with Scott’s beta, Isaac. You had known of him before he was turned, and he had seemed nice enough the few times you had interacted with him, but there had always seemed to be something off, even after Scott had told you the truth about his friends. You weren’t sure exactly why Isaac made you so uneasy, but the weight of his eyes, whether glowing their infamous werewolf gold or his pretty every-day blue, was ever present and unreadable. 

Even now, with the rest of the pack off investigating the most recent victim of a vengeful spirit, Isaac lingered, perched on one of the spare lab tables pushed against the wall and watching you intently. 

“You didn’t have to wait here,” you say, ardently refusing to look at him, studying the strange glowing sample they’d brought you through the viewing lens of your microscope. “You heard Scott- He thinks he’s got a lead. You could’ve gone with him to check it out.”

A soft huff escapes Isaac and you can hear him shift behind you, moving from his seat on the opposite table to come lean against the one you’re working at. “No,” he says quietly, “I needed to be here.” He’s silent for a minute and you almost think to press him further when he continues, “I know you don’t need me to be here, but I need to be.” He clears his throat awkwardly when you look up at him, but he presses on, in spite of the thick blush clouding his cheeks. “I worry about you a lot when I’m not around you, y’know? Not just that you’re just a human, but that you’re you.”

You studied Isaac for a long moment, a sort of self-satisfied amusement creeping through you as he fidgets under your gaze, clearly having said more than he meant to and exposing his emotions in the process. 

“You really think that you’re going to catch this ghost?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest as you watched him. 

He nodded, grinning shyly, “Yeah. With you and Scott working together to find it? No way we don’t.”

Whenever you’d caught Isaac looking at you in the past, the look in his eyes was always intense, but he was unreadable in the same way that the old Latin tombs that Allison had swiped from her family’s archives for you had been. But in the same way you had learned to decipher those ancient books, you were starting to see the meaning behind those lingering stares and Isaac’s looming presence. He’d never seemed malicious to you, not even before he’d joined Scott’s pack, but now you could see that determined distance for what it was.

You rolled your eyes and turned back to your sample, but couldn’t stop the edge of your lips from quirking up as you spoke. “You find it and I owe you a kiss.”

While you were no longer looking at him, you could pick out the exact moment Isaac realized what you’d said since you could hear his sneakers squeak against the floor as he struggled to catch himself from falling. “I- I, uh, I-” he stammered and you could practically hear how flustered he was. “I’m- I’m gonna go call Scott and see if his lead panned out. Y’know, we uh, we really need to get rid of this ghost thing before it hurts someone else. We should- We should really do everything we can to catch it as soon as possible, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he hurried out of the room, and you laughed even harder when you were able to pick up the excited whoops echoing in from outside of your lab from Isaac and Scott over the phone line.

[commander-rahrah]

Talking to the Moon: Part VI

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~4800 Warnings: slightly suggestive, swearing, blood, non-con touching (Cazador touching reader), some borrowed in game dialogue, canonical warnings apply!

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here part III: here part IV: here part V: here

Summary: Set in Act III, after you arrive in Baldur's Gate and have met some of Astarion's siblings but not yet confronted Cazador. Astarion struggles with inner turmoil as he is suddenly thrusted back into the clutches of his old master's influence.

Notes: Long time no update! Long story short December was the month where everything was bad and everything hurt - ER hospital visits and many, many days laying in bed and on the couch very unmotivated and just wanting to feel better! I am very grateful to be feeling better and up to writing as my fics is one of my favorite creative outlets! So thank you for being patient between updates! I really appreciate it and any kind of interaction like a reblog, like or comment truly makes my friggin' day!

So this update and the next chapter will be focused on confronting Cazador! I have had these thoughts and ideas to add more to the in-game scenes since the very first time I played it! I was doing a multiplayer save with my fiancé and the second we finished Astarion's quest (I sobbed the entire time btw) I stayed up all night writing all my thoughts onto my notes app. I didn't even intend to write into a fic back then, I just wanted the outlet of writing it all down to help with how emotional I was feeling about it all! And now a few months later, I have a fic with over 30k words. Aha... whoops!

Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this update and the slight changes and add-ons I've added to this final part of Astarion's quest. I honestly teared up writing parts of it, because Astarion and his and my Tav's story means so much to me, I couldn't help it. ALSO, I don't plan on these being the last updates since it is the "end" of Astarion's quests. I still have plans for this Tav/Reader and Astarion yet. Not enough kissing and happiness had happened yet!! Just some angst and pain has to happen first.

As always, reblogs and comments are very very appreciated ♡♡♡

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You had wandered the streets of Baldur’s Gate before. Long before the nautiloid, in your time living in the city you had explored as much of the exciting city as you could. But never like this.

Your party had taken every cobblestone street, every back alley and shortcut. Astarion lead the way for most of them, pointing things out and sharing antidotes with you.

But you noticed how his smile strained at times, that he was wearing down the stitches on his leather pants from his fingers picking them nervously. At night when you slept side by side you’d wake to him trembling and muttering through a nightmare, which had become more frequent since you stepped into the city boundaries.

The vampire has been so sure of the next step in the Shadowlands and Wyrm’s Crossing. But now anytime you neared the streets leading to Cazador’s castle, he was turning on his heel and looking at one of your companions to ask what they needed to do instead.

Meeting his siblings days ago had been eye-opening. You thought you understood what he had gone through, that the memories he had described to you, and even shown you through the tadpoles, was enough. But after seeing how controlled and manipulated Petras and Dalyria had been… What they were being forced to do…You couldn’t bring yourself to picture Astarion like that.

You couldn’t imagine the turmoil and anguish going through your lover — seeing his siblings, being in the city again in a way he never thought he would, being so close to seizing power that could change his fate forever. You hadn’t voiced that every time he mentioned taking the ritual for himself fear stabbed in your belly. You knew what was motivating him to even consider the choice — outright fear and the call of power that was easily addicting. But too many things in his life has been decided for him… so you didn’t voice that to him, instead insisting that you only needed for him to be safe and happy. You trusted him to make the right choice.

You did trust him. You loved him.

And you showed him as such — throughout the day as you laced your fingers through his, as you rolled your neck for him to feed, as you curled into each other to sleep.

And he had been returning that trust and love back.

He had continued to expand his boundaries with you, slowly but surely as the days went on. Your quiet time together after a long day, you were a reprieve he sought out over and over. You whispered and giggled with each other between kisses in your shared bed in the Elfsong Tavern — tucked into the corner and hidden behind privacy screens. Privacy screens that Karlach had loudly dragged over before giving you both a very unsubtle wink. Then she did the same for her and Shadowheart.

The teasing had been relentless.

You still hadn’t taken those final steps, and you were in no rush too. Astarion’s happiness and agency was the most important to you, always. Yet, you couldn’t help the way your heart thundered and breath got higher as he slowly explored any kind of touch and intimacy with you again.

You were laid together now, draped across each other — you only in your night clothes and Astarion in very thin linen pants. You were pressed gently on top of him, your voice and lips whispering across his pale skin as he pointed his fingertip to various parts of his body. His new game he had started that night — seemingly convinced that he would find a part of himself that you did not love.

Utterly impossible — but you indulged him anyways.

“Even this? You like this?” He pointed to his knobby elbow.

"Hmm,” You hummed approvingly, pressing a gentle peck to the bare, taut skin of his bent joint.

His low laughter rumbled through both of you, shaking you slightly. “I’m running out of ideas.”

You eyed him greedily, “I’m not. You’ve missed some of your best parts.”

“Have I?” He cocked a brow, a smirk spreading across his face. “Alright, go on then.”

“I can—?”

“Mhmm,” He nodded his head against the silk pillow, settling himself deeper into the mattress under your weight.

Swallowing, you took him in underneath you and felt your mind start whirring. Slow, patient, soft — you reminded yourself. You gently touched his jawline, the tip of your finger following the strong line. “Here.”

Then your forefinger and thumb rubbed the cartilage on the tops of his ears, “Here.” His mouth fell open deliciously with that one.

“Here,” You caressed the mole on his cheek with a swipe of your thumb.

You continued your movements, so drawn into him that you didn’t notice his red eyes blazing as they flickered between watching your hand and watching your face.

Your fingers gracefully dragged across him. His Adam’s apple. His knuckles. Collarbone. Inner wrist.

“I told you, there is no part of you that I do not like. Every inch of you I want to—“ You cut yourself off. Perhaps that was too much. This was a fun, teasing game — exploratory and gentle. You hadn’t meant to make it about your own desire and arousal.

He swallowed, his mouth hanging open slightly, “You want to what?”

You let out a fake cough, lifting yourself off of him slightly with a blush crossing your cheeks. “Well, I—“

A grin spread across his face, “Oh, I love it when you get all coy.” He purred, pulling you back before you could fully get away. “Tell me, please.” He whispered.

“There isn’t an inch of you that I don’t wish to kiss. To taste.” You admitted huskily, the heat on your face spreading to your neck.

The groan that escaped him made the fire in your belly sputter even hotter.

“Show me?” He asked softly, but his tone was slightly more sultry than before.

“Sho—show you?”

He nodded before fidgeting under you to display himself more — stretching out his neck, spreading his arms out.

“May I—“

“Darling,” He said the pet name a tad exasperated as his slowly closing eyes snapped to yours. “This was my idea. You don’t have to ask every time.”

“Yes, I do.” You insisted.

He rolled his eyes playfully, shaking his soft curls, “Really—“

But you cut him off. “Astarion, I do. I will continue to. It’s important to me. I never want you to do something you don’t want. I never want to make you feel like that with me.”

“You haven’t. I know you wouldn’t.” He trailed his pale fingers through the hair hanging in front of your face as you hovered over him. He tucked it behind your ear.

“I know it seems like a silly question, especially between us but I want you to know you can—“

It was his turn to cut you off, silencing you with a reassuring kiss. He was looking at you with astonishment when you finally opened your eyes from the deep kiss. “What ever did I do to deserve you my lovely moon?”

You smiled tenderly down at him, “Perhaps it was fate.”

“Hmm," His red eyes blinked slowly, "I used to despise that sentiment.”

“And now?”

Astarion gave you one of the most tender smiles you'd ever seen. “I think you might be right.” He ran his fingers gently down your cheek before letting out a dramatic puff. “Now, stop turning me into a sappy lovesick fool and kiss me already.” He growled playfully.

"As you wish, love." You mumbled as you pressed your lips to his.

• • •

You woke with a stir, the weight of the mattress shifting suddenly and then the sound of scuffling feet. Astarion was standing in front of the bed — in front of you defensively, still only in his night pants with his bare chest rising and falling quickly. A dagger was closed in his fist, aimed in front of him of threateningly. “Stop right where you are.” His voice was commanding like it had never been before, but you could still hear a twinge of uncertainty in it.

“You know why we’re here, brother.” A low, masculine voice said — seemingly coming from the dark shadows in the corners of the large suite.

Astarion's stance grew wider, his grip on his dagger tightening until his already pale knuckles turned white. “Come any closer to us and it will be the last thing you do.”

Peering over your lover's figure, you found four pairs of glowing red eyes studying you intently. The hairs on the back of your neck and arms started to stand up.

"I mean it - get the hells away from us!" Astarion growled again, his hand blinding reaching back for you. You laced your fingers through his and a protection spell was on your lips seconds later, muttered quietly until you felt the magical aura surround him.

The rest of your companions were up on their feet after Astarion's shout, pushing in towards your bed, edging around it in a protective semi-circle. Most of them were scantily clad in only undergarments and nightclothes - but all of them had their hands glowing with magic or weapons drawn. Fury was etched on every one of their faces from the intrusion and threat.

One of the female vampires eyed the rest of your group, counting and calculating. Then she raised her hands up, "We come in peace, brother."

"You call this peace, Aurelia?" He frowned at her. Your grip on him tightened as you stood up and tried to go to his side, but he stepped in front of you protectively once again.

A male stepped forward slightly, his mouth and eyes ruby red with deep scars carved over his skin, trailing down his chin. It was a terrifying sight. But his voice did not match his appearance, and instead was laced with desperation and hope. "The master needs all seven us for the ceremony. Come with us and be reborn. We'll live again."

The suite remained deadly silent. Like you all were waiting to see who would make the first move, who would let loose a spell or swing a blade first.

But it was your meek voice that broke the silence, "How did you find us?"

Their red eyes snapped instantly to you, but it was one of his sister's who spoke. "Master Cazador has known where Astarion was this entire time — where both of you were. He has been watching carefully since you arrived in the city."

"You know what our master will do to them.” His scarred brother warned, nodding his head towards you. His eyes almost looked... sad.

“He won’t get the chance, Leon.” Astarion snarled back.

Leon raised his hands defensively, "We aren't here for them. We are here about the rite. The master needs you. You must attend."

Astarion scoffed, "Oh, I am well aware of what the master needs. But don't we all deserve better?" His features were contorted in a strange mixture of emotion. "After these centuries of torment, I know what you all want. More then power. More than to walk in the sun. You want to see him dead."

The desire for revenge, for Cazador's death, did not surprise you. He had said as much, and bluntly too. You had agreed that Cazador deserved such a fate after the years of abuse and exploitation he had forced upon Astarion.

"If you think I will be a willing sacrifice for him and his deranged ritual, you really are stupidly blinded by him."

"Sacrifice?" Aurelia stepped forward, shaking her head. "No, this is our way to cheat undeath."

"Is that the lie he told you?" He sneered.

"I-"

Astarion's lips curled up, "You're all fools. You think he cares about us? You think he will grant us such power? We are nothing but pawns to be slaughtered for the king — one final, grand maneuver so he can win the game."

His four siblings shook with disbelief. "The master doesn't need to lie to us. He controls us, fully. Why go through the trouble of giving us hope..."

Leon got there first, his face crumbling. "Because its more cruel... shit."

The vampires exchanged a look — a look between siblings that you knew well. One that you had shared with your own brother many times. A silent conversation had happened between them in an instant.

"That manipulative bastard." The other female finally spoke, her words a hiss between her fanged teeth.

"How did we not see this?"

Leon squared his shoulders, moving his red eyes to look back at his free brother. "Astarion is right... because we are blind fools."

"We must go before he compels us too— agghhh." Aurelia grabbed her head, her expression one of excruciating pain. "Aggghhhhh!"

"Take her." Leon commanded the other siblings who looped their arms around her, dragging her away as she fought them. But he lingered behind them for a moment, stopping to look over his shoulder and study the pair of you. To look at the rest of your companions surrounding you defensively. "Help us, brother." His voice was a whispered plea, his terrifying, red eyes wide and shining. Then with a loud crack and a sudden puff of red, they were gone.

A collective sigh escaped your party as they disappeared, spells extinguished and weapons dropped down to their sides before they turned to face both of you.

Astarion’s shoulders sagged as he realized his family had indeed left. He all but collapsed into your side, burying his face into the crook of your neck as you held him back. Really, as you held him up.

You stroked his hair as he murmured into your shoulder, “Tomorrow. This ends tomorrow.”

“Okay, my love. We’ll be with you the whole way.” You whispered into his pointed ear, returning the concerned expression of your companions watching as your hold on Astarion tightened a bit more.

• • •

Whatever you do... I just don't want to die down here.

Sebastian’s voice was echoing in his ears, his mind, and creeping down into parts of him he had just barely started to recognize again. Parts of him that a few months ago he had deemed long dead. He had to force his pink lips into a firm line just to stop them from trembling. 

This place, his so-called home was his personal hell. Every step through the fading carpets and ostentatiously decorated rooms had gotten harder and harder — until he had started to feel physically ill. Bile was rising in his throat, his back and palms of his hands turning clammy. And now, standing in the secret, buried crypt beneath — it felt like the castle above him was pressing down, screaming at him of what a luxury it had been that he was a prisoner up there and not down here. That voice in his head, that ringing, echoing voice. Gods, he wished it would stop. 

And you... you had been so uncommonly quiet. You who had lent him your strength since the moment he met you, you and your presence a steady reassurance that he had come to depend on. But his little moon who was usually so chatty and poetic, was so quiet. Your eyes were wide as you followed him through Cazador’s castle, your steps clumsy and dazed like he wasn't the only one walking through this twisted nightmare. Perhaps it was for you — realizing the realities of what he had been through.

When Astarion's composure had really started to shake, you snapped back to reality and were with him in an instant. Your warm fingers threading through his icy ones. Your voice, your soft, hushed voice using the smallest amount of words to try and put his cruel mind at ease. The words you had used were choice, but powerful. You insisted that all of this was Cazador's cruelty — not his. 

But how could he believe that as he stood in front of the cells filled with people he had brought his master? How could he deny the role he played in all of this when he could stare into the eyes of all of those victims — the stupid, innocent fools who in a fleeting moment fell for him. 

Especially when he realized how fortunate, how damn lucky, it was that he never stumbled on you on the streets of Baldur’s Gate the past year you'd lived in the city. 

Astarion stood before the precipice of Cazador’s ritual room. The grand doors that would lead to these final moments just a few steps away from him.

The fine outfit he picked for himself suddenly felt unbearably tight and itchy. The lacy neck scratching and digging into his skin, his leather shoes too restricting. He had wanted to use the clothes as a symbol to his old master — look how well I’ve done without you, look who I’ve become without you. His hands became fists at his sides, his knuckles white and half moons appearing on the soft skin of his palms as he squeezed tighter and tighter. The only way to stop them from trembling — with both fear and rage. 

“I'm here for you, love.” You whispered gently, your warm fingers ghosting the sides of his wrists as you stepped in beside him. His fists unclenched slightly as he breathed in your familiar scent, as he savored the soft caress of your skin on his. He pushed down the building sob climbing up through his chest, the urgency of the cry growing as he felt your presence surround him. "Just... remember who you are, Astarion." 

Who was he? It felt even blurrier in this sadistic crypt under the castle he used to call home. Though it never was one. A prison, that's what it was. 

And what version of him did you see? Could he really be what you thought you saw? What you thought he could be?

Astarion had left Baldur's Gate against his will — a tormented, violent, broken thing. A puppet. A slave. He thought he had returned to this city anew — a free male, softer around the edges but no longer a thing to be used. His own person.

Yet the second he felt the influence of Cazador's control, the moment he felt that familiar threat he felt as if he was falling backwards. Being backed into a corner, corralled into the cage and slapped into chains that he had rotted away in for two hundred years. 

He would not go back. 

A shudder went through him as he tried to compose himself once more, taking a deep breath that he knew he did not truly need. Looking sideways at you, he gave you a final nod. "I'm ready for this to be over." 

Something flashed in your eyes, but it was gone as fast as it appeared. You nodded, before following him through the grand doors with the rest of your companions trailing behind. 

The descent down those stairs was brutal. Time seemed to drag to such a slow that it was almost like the scene before them was frozen in time. Astarion could recognize the familiar silhouette of his master anywhere. It had haunted him long enough that he had memorized every harsh line and angle. He loosed a breath as he counted six figures bound and hovering by some form of magic — a seventh spot on the top center left open and waiting.

For him. 

"Could it be?!" The voice that plagued his thoughts, his nightmares and memories echoed throughout the large chamber. It sent hundreds of different feelings throughout his body, his flesh getting goosebumps and steps faltering for a moment on the stone stairs.

"Our prodigal son returned to us!" Cazador's voice was jovial, but there was no mistaking why. The final piece to his game had just delivered themselves to him, the sacrificial lamb for slaughter had seemingly come with no ill intent. 

Astarion would make the vampire bastard regret underestimating him.

He could hear you just steps behind him, the pads of your feet, the familiar thrum of your heart increasing as you both stepped closer and closer to Cazador's place on the central dais. He gritted his teeth, his back molars clenching down so hard he swore he heard a crunch in the back of his mouth. He lowered his head, looking up at the monster that had ruined him through his eyebrows. 

"Do not slouch before me, boy! Have you no respect for yourself?" Cazador snapped, waving his hand dismissively at him. "Look at you, crawling back after abandoning your family. You should be begging for our forgiveness."

"I will do no crawling, nor begging." Astarion snarled, baring his teeth slightly. "And forgiveness? Really? You have never forgiven anything. Every mistake, every slip was punished."

The bastard had the audacity to roll his red eyes, "I strove for perfection in all things — even those as imperfect as you. A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts." 

"No!!" He roared, stepping forward once more as he pointed his finger. "No, fuck you and fuck everything you've ever done to me!" 

Cazador raised a single dark brow before letting out a humorless laugh, "You stupid, little boy."

"You son of a bitch!" Astarion couldn't stop the explosion of anger that coursed through him and he charged forward. His pale hand formed a fist as he launched himself at Cazador but a flare of red magic suddenly froze him in place. His body stopped completely, caught mid-lunge with his fingers still curled in a punch. 

He heard a strangled whimper from behind him. It was you, the sound one he had rarely heard — one of you paralyzed from fear. 

But the master mercifully ignored you, only having eyes for his spawn. He smirked as he surveyed Astarion trapped in the swell of magic, "Tut, tut." He clicked his tongue, "Did you think it would be that easy?" 

Astarion let out a groan of pain as he tried to resist the red binding power that started to form around him. Tears began to prickle in the corners of his eyes as they began to squeeze and cut into his skin, seeping into him slowly like a dreadful poison. 

"Astarion!!" His name ripped out of you at his pained cries, stepping forward onto the dais to intervene. The agony in your voice was more unbearable then what he was currently suffering. 

He was a fool to bring you here, to ask you to help him. He had served them all to Cazador on a silver platter.  

“Oh?" The ancient vampire's voice had a hint of wicked glee in it as he turned on his heel and set his eyes on you, with the rest of your companions lingering just behind you. Like he had just finally bothered to notice your presence. "And who do we have here? Your little pet, Astarion?” 

You froze in place, but stood up slightly taller. He watched as you jutted your chin forward, setting your shoulders back as you refused to cower in front of him. Even if he could scent your fear from here.  Then the old master slinked around you, his chest almost brushing your back as he inspected you head to toe. Your jaw set as he circled behind you where you could not see, but you did your best to keep your face neutral.  “And what’s this?” Cazador asked with a flicker of false humor. 

Astarion hissed as the vampire stepped even closer, bending down to eye his puncture marks that had scarred on your neck. “You finally gained enough courage to feed from a being capable of thought? Congratulations, spawn.” Then he took in a large inhale, “And quite an appetizing pick too, they smell absolutely delicious."

His glowing red eyes snapped back to Astarion as he remained behind you, looming over your shoulder. He was gauging every reaction from both of you, he knew.

Studying. Calculating. Deducing. 

Like any manipulative vampire would.

"But it seems my dear boy, you’ve been double dipping with this one haven’t you?” He made to grab your silver hair and Astarion felt his mind go berserk.  “DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH THEM!” He roared, pulling hard enough on the magical red tethers around him that they flared and flickered for a moment. 

An evil grin contorted his master's fingers as he still put his long fingers through your hair and pushed it behind your ear. The action revealed even more of your neck so he pressed his prominent nose against your pulse point, inhaling deeply. “Your scent is all over them.” You shuddered involuntarily, your face wincing and flinching away at his cold touch.

Astarion growled, his fangs barring and snapping at his old master. “Oh, so upset. They are your favorite little pet aren’t they?" A long finger nail dragged down your jaw. Astarion's eyes were glued to yours, your body seemingly immobilized from fear — for both yourself and him. Cazador cocked his head as he watched the pair of you before letting out a scoff. "You fool, you fell for your snack instead. What a pity... for once I was almost proud of you.”

He finally let you go, wiping the fingers that touched you off on his jacket like you were a worm he had picked up from the dirt. He licked his lips as he approached his spawn again, still frozen with his scarlet magic that buzzed and echoed with authority throughout the entire chamber.  “Well, I can give you one last comfort, since I am such a generous master." He whispered into Astarion's ear, both of their eyes locked onto your worried expression. "Once you and all your siblings are nothing but pulp... I’ll treat your special love extra carefully. I’ll be so lonely since the rest of you will all be gone. But this one… they will make for a delectable companion."

Another growl escaped from deep in his chest, but the sound was caught as Cazador wrapped his long fingers around his pale throat. “It’s a pity I have to lose you. So much work, so much time... gone. But my new companion will do a much better job than you, with a pretty face like that no one would resist? I mean, even you didn’t.” He hissed in his ear. 

"ENOUGH!” You barked, stepping forward closer to him with your mouth and brow set in a hardline. "Release him, Cazador, at once."

The bastard only smirked and snapped around to meet you, "Ha. Or what?"

"This all ends here. You end here." You did not stutter or stumble. Your voice was strong and carried across the chamber. Your companions stepped up behind you, hands moving at their sides as they readied their weapons and spells at your word. 

"Is that so? You are willing to risk death for him? A wasted, mistake of a spawn? A stupid, little boy?"

Your nostrils flared, your eyes shining with familiar power that was now coming off of you in waves, "I would do anything for him."

"Stupid mortal." Cazador barked, his lips curling in disgust. "I forgot how foolish you can be when you fall in "love". But not to worry... I'll train that right out of you." He twirled back around dramatically, looking at Astarion as he held onto his staff tighter. The red magic swirled and brightened around Astarion, squeezing him so tightly he felt as if may be crushed from the inside out. "You truly forgot my power, Astarion. You truly thought our bond as creator and creation was all that stopped you from killing me. You are weak, my child. You are a small, pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything. But today, you will finally do something worthwhile. You will burn, and I will ascend."

The vampire master flicked his wrist, and Astarion was soaring across the room — completing the final spot in the ritual circle. The entire chamber room suddenly lit up with the red light, a enormous sigils swirling underneath Astarion and the rest of his siblings as they hovered in mid air. Their tops suddenly shredded from the force of the spell as their naked, scared torsos were revealed — the scars littered across them glowing the same scarlet as the patterns beneath them.  

"ASTARION!" His name was a roar from your lips again as you surged forward, hands outstretched for him across the ritual floor.  

"Witness the birth of the Vampire Ascendant! Ecce dominus!" Cazador's staff slammed down onto the marked stone floor. 

And pain like nothing Astarion had ever felt went through every part of him. 

Read the next chapter: here

[thirteenemeraldcats]

I come bearing random fic asks! 1) tell us about your current wip(s)! 2) what's your writing process like? 3) I think you mentioned you have a background in psychology — how much does that influence your writing?

Hello my beautiful friend!!

Thank you so much for sending me these! I have been sitting on this for days because I wanted to banish 'thought that i was young' from my WIPs before answering lol

1.) Now that THAT'S published (and taken most of my WIP wordcount with it *sad violin noises*) there's 3 fics I'm actively poking at, the chunkiest is a Sam-and-Jamie-BFFS-agenda-6-conversations-they-might-have-had-and-one-they-definitely-didn't which I'm pretty sure I've posted a snip of SOMEWHERE before whoops. The working title was too long for me to cope with, to the extent that it managed to override my inability to make my mind up about anything, and is now called 'i said, maybe' - a line I've gleefully pinched from Wonderwall by Oasis! I like it for this fic because *gestures at working title* BUT ALSO Wonderwall is the song Sam sings at karaoke in 1x07 'Make Rebecca Great Again' and the Manchester connection tickles me greatly!

There's a non-angsty, short-ish (I'm honestly shocked) fic that fell out of my brain nearly fully formed a couple of weeks ago (because almost everyone I knew was either talking about or having birthdays) which ALSO has a title 'because he had no say in it (no say in it at all)', which is almost definitely going to be posted next (and hopefully a LOT sooner than the time-space between 'i learned to walk while he was away' and 'thought that i was young').

The only other thing I'm actively poking at right now is in the outline stage, it is also short-ish (please PLEASE stay that way) but is back to the angst-fest that is apparently all my brain wants to spit out. It's Jamie-centric. It involves a cat :)

2.) Honestly at this point my writing process is best described as:

(sound warning)

ANYWAY

(My actual answer about my writing process is that I love planning. Very much. Stretching the dough into spaghetti is where the problem lies 🫠)

3.) I do indeed have a background in Psychology! Like any undiagnosed-in-denial-17-year-old-DUMBASS, I studied Psych right out of high school due to a combined and truly harebrained motivation of 'what IS going on up there' and 'wow I love systematically studying, analysing and mimicking human behaviour [no underlying NOTHING going on up there no siree]' and wound up with a four year degree. NOW, my background is purely theoretical, I have never been registered as/worked as a Psychologist, so I'm not violating any ethical codes by using my knowledge for evil applying my Psych training to fictional stories/characters. Because the answer to 'how much does that influence your writing' is. SO MUCH. Not necessarily intentionally, there's only one fic in the extended-mountainous-WIP-pile that's explicit about Psych stuff (I'm giving Dani Seasonal Affective Disorder whoops), but psychology is one of those fields that once you're trained in it you can't really ever un-know it. Unfortunately for me, and everyone that I meet, there's forever a predisposing/precipitating/perpetuating/protective biopsychosocial model being drawn up in my head whenever someone exhibits any kind of behaviour my forebrain finds moderately interesting. (This doesn't happen with online friends DON'T WORRY [in truth it's only because I can't physically see you all- I AM SO SORRY- I am not in control of this]).

Honestly, I think a big part of it is just that my particular brand of pattern-recognition-AuDHD has been granted auto-inserted citations and gone mad with power.

Take Jamie, beloved stress ball that he is, he has so much psycho-analysis potential that I'm forever torn between wanting to write a dissertation on the various comorbidities that could be floating around in that guy's head, having a Watsonian v Doylist argument with myself about ~artistic intentions~, having to suspend disbelief for the sake of storytelling because I've been cursed with knowledge (gleefully and enthusiastically sought out and paid for knowledge) and just wanting to enjoy the story/character as they're presented/as I'm writing it.

Applying actual Psychology to fictional characters is like trying to tie a balloon to a moving rollercoaster, for the simple fact that they're not real; their actions and motivations and reactions are scripted and rehearsed and performed.

I'm doing it anyway :)

[yakool-foolio]

Hello, give me one for Danganronpa, Ace Attorney and Rain Code of that character ask. (angel wants to know if Yomi anf Kristoph go to super hell)

A package deal! You've sold me on the chance to ramble about so many characters. You opened the floodgates, now you're in the splash zone!

Danganronpa: Blorbo - Shuichi Saihara (No surprises here) Scrunkly - Kiibo (He's so cute man, every time I think about his blushing sprites or him wanting to be a singer I crumple up like a napkin) Scrimblo bimblo - Tenko Chabashira (She deserves so much more love, the writing did her so damn dirty by hiding all her motivations in FTEs. I will never forgive Kodaka for this) Glup shitto - Tsumugi Shirogane (She's my favorite mastermind I don't care what anyone says about her! Anyone who calls her 'one-dimensional' talks like they're stuck in the killing game behind the screen! But I know better! MY DAD WORKS AT NINTENDO!) Poor little meow meow - Nagito Komaeda (Only considered controversial because of what the fandom has done to this poor guy. He's no doubt one of--if not the--best character Kodaka's ever written, and yet I must helplessly watch as he's reduced to 'haha I like hope and I'm crazy,' which is a huge disservice to his complex and well thought out story. Sadly it's a symptom of him being dragged outside of his context by pop culture.) Horse plinko - Junko Enoshima (I dunno, she probably wouldn't mind it) Eeby deeby - Nagito Komaeda again (I had to look up the exact meaning of superhell for this. And honestly he kinda did that to himself. Now wake up Nagito and go get your man so ya can live on that island together!)

Ace Attorney: Blorbo - Kazuma Asogi (Whoops he stole the top spot from Apollo, but believe me I think about him a lot too, especially cause he wins the relatability category; social anxiety go brrrrrrr. Yet no character has had me go more feral than Kazuma and I still have a TON on my mind about him that I really need to put to written word someday.) Scrunkly - Ron DeLite (MY SWEET LIL GUY! I'd let him steal all my valuables cause he's just too darn cute!) Scrimblo bimblo - Bobby Fulbright/The Phantom (The best final case culprit for the best final case in the entire series, I will not waver in my opinion! Bobby is such a fun detective, nearing the heights of Sholmes, while also being revealed to be the identity-stealing assassin I've always dreamed of. I will run in circles forever thinking about this amalgamation of a character. Now if only he was given any official merch...) Glup shitto - Satoru Hosonaga (If Hosonaga only has one fan then that's me! If there's ever a TGAA Investigations game, he better make a cameo someway somehow!) Poor little meow meow - Matt Engarde (This could've also gone to The Phantom but it fits Matt thematically cause he's very orange cat coded to me. My first 'uh oh my favorite character is a murderer aren't they' moment in Ace. And it would not be the last.) Horse plinko - Mael Stronghart (I hate this dude I hope Klint and Genshin are beating him up as ghosts.) Eeby deeby - Kristoph Gavin (If I had a nickel for every time I turned a dynamic between a mastermind antag and a mentor figure into bitter exes cause it somehow makes their relationship more interesting than it already is, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.)

Rain Code: Blorbo - Yakou Furio (What blog do ya think you're even lookin' at right now?) Scrunkly - Shinigami (She's really adorable in her blob form with how she emotes, and she's a sweet person under all her snark!) Scrimblo bimblo - Melami Goldmine (The more I think about my personal interpretation of Vivia's backstory, the more I love Melami by association since she's got a lot going on with her as well. I'd kill to learn more about her history and if she's had any canonical affiliation or interaction with Vivia. I need them to be business partners!) Glup shitto - Nun (What's not to love about a cat-eared nun who runs a death metal choir at the church? I'd go to one of her performances any day!) Poor little meow meow - Hitman Zilch (I got real sad over him dying because I thought we'd lost the best antag in the entire game AND WE'D ONLY JUST BEGUN. This hitman has altered my brain chemistry forever and there's no cure.) Horse plinko - Dr. Huesca ("It's what he deserves," I say calmly and rationally through gritted teeth as my fist clenches and trembles with rage.) Eeby deeby - Yomi Hellsmile (If I had a nickel for every time I turned a dynamic between a mastermind antag and a mentor figure into bitter exes cause it somehow makes their relationship more interesting than it already is, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.)

[illegally-blind-and-deaf]

💕

Favourite ship to write?

Dmitri/Anastasia (Dmitry/Anastasia depending on how you spell his name, it's confusing and I will rant about it if you ask me anyway-)

I know I haven't posted too much about them lately, but they are my favourite ship, especially to write.

Number 1: they're historical. Bonus points already. I can put them in WHATEVER fun historical events are happening at the time (eheheh world war 2) and explore how that impacts their relationship.

Number 2: I feel like they have such an equal relationship. They both provide a family, home and love for each other, they understand a lot of what the other has gone through and they complete each other really nicely. They're similar enough in their personalities to be close, but not so similar that they clash.

Number 3: I love to write the fight they had in the actual film and musical. I once saw a comment saying that Dmitri/y is abusive and that their relationship is toxic, but I beg to disagree. While yes, there is a lot of miscommunication (and a bit of manipulation at the beginning,) it's important to understand that 1) Dmitri/y's character arc is incredibly big and by the end he is not selfish or manipulating anyone and 2) have you considered a thing called trauma? Lemme explain.

Imagine that you have spent your entire life impoverished and working in horrible, dangerous factories or in other poor working conditions, you never gained an education, your parents died tragically when you were young (if we're going via the musical, your dad was arrested and taken to a labour camp to die), you've probably been betrayed, abused and beaten several times, you have to steal in order to survive, and somehow after the revolution you were praying would happen, the country you've been stuck in your entire life is somehow worse than before. Oh how glorious your life is, hmm. Now, if I told you that you could run away from this horrible country and your life and start afresh, you could live by the seaside in a nice, warm house owned completely by you, you could have hot water and a bed and enough food to fill you always and you could be rich, BUT you have to convince a girl who could possibly by the missing grand Duchess that she's Anastasia, would you?

OF COURSE YOU WOULD THIS IS YOUR ONLY TICKET OUT OF THIS HELLHOLE! And that's exactly what Dmitri/y did AND HE HAS PERFECTLY VALID REASONS! His motives were good, his actions were not. And he realises this after Anya blows up at him about how hurt she is and he realises that not only did he come to finally trust someone again, that person trusted him back and he just destroyed it. He recognises what he did wrong and (in the movie) he apologises! In his own way of almost getting killed for her, which if you compare with Dmitri/y at the beginning he would NOT have done that so clearly he's trying to make it up for his mistakes, but anyway, in short he's a traumatised boy who trying to relearn how to actually care for people and trust them after he's been absolutely shattered by people. (Add my own personal headcanon that he's Jewish into that and OH BOY DOES THAT HURT MORE-)

Number 4: I love writing them with children. I feel like they're absolutely amazing parents who care for each other and their children and it's so cute to me

Anyway this ended up becoming longer than I anticipated whoops-

Sorry about that rant-

[onestepbackwards]

Love That Bites Pt. 2

Hello everyone! Welcome to the second chapter of my Dracula x Reader fic! I felt very motivated to write this chapter (wrote over half of it last night hehe). I did write it on very little sleep though, so apologies if its a little messy. I still had fun writing it though! It was fun to move the plot on a little bit, even if it feels like it repeats itself a little... Whoops? Regardless, I hope you all enjoy!

Summary: After a rough night, you decide to finally confront your family’s biggest foe.... Only to suddenly have second thoughts. You are unaware of the affect this undoubtedly has on your imprisoned adversary.

CW: Anxiety, feelings of dread, minor self doubt, talks of murder, slight mental breakdown from stress, battle with morality.

Word count: 5059 Words! Previous: Link Next: Link

-----

Safe to say, you didn’t sleep well last night.

From nightmares of having to fight Dracula himself and dooming the world, to waking up every hour worried your little safe haven was being broken into by monsters.

When you finally forced yourself to get out of bed in the morning, you felt sick, and had a migraine. If you were being honest with yourself, the idea of turning tail and running back home felt more appealing than dealing with the Lord of the Night.

But you had to do this. Whatever this was.

You took your time getting ready, dreading returning to the castle. You couldn’t even eat properly, feeling sick made it near impossible for your stomach to settle. The only thing you could stomach was a few crackers and some water.

In a fit of frustration, you just threw some food in one of your bags, and decided to call it good. You could try and eat later if you got hungry.

After you prepared for the walk, and what would most likely be a battle, you set out.

A part of you hoped it had all been a strange nightmare. Perhaps the stress had finally gotten to you? You wouldn’t doubt it, given your current life struggles, and how sick you had been getting as of late. Despite not having any major symptoms of an illness like you had in the recent past, your body could have easily just given you a fever dream!

Deep down though, a part of you knew it was pointless to hope for such things. Everything that you had seen so far had been real, from the fear, the castle, and of course, the statue of Lord Dracula himself.

Shaking your head, you could only feel your anxiety worsen with each step you took.

Of course, that was nothing compared to the feeling you had when you arrived at the valley with the lake, where Castlevania loomed off in the distance.

It was much the same as it had been yesterday. Despite how it had been a bright, sunny morning when you departed from your cabin, clouds now ominously swirled above the area. Like before, lightning would occasionally strike, and thunder quickly followed.

And it was quiet.

The same, creepy quiet it had been last time. It did nothing to ease your bubbling anxiety.

Despite how much your legs felt like stone, you pushed forward towards the castle. Each step you took felt like it was once step closer to your potential doom.

As soon as you approached the gate to the courtyard, however, you were a bit stumped. Once again, no monsters were ready to greet you and try to tear you a new one.

Just the same, empty atmosphere as before.

With a bit more courage than yesterday, you pushed forward through the courtyard, arriving at the large doors that hid away the interior of the building.

“Well… no turning back now, I guess…” You mumbled, not feeling very enthusiastic.

You didn’t rush through the castle this time, but you also weren’t trying to search it either. The destination was clear.

But so was the path there.

Nothing but an empty, lonely castle. Cold, dark, and desolate feeling. As if any sort of life had been gone for decades.

Given the situation, you wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.

Unlike the last time you were here, getting to the throne room was remarkably easy when you knew the way to go. Though you would admit, you almost wanted to get lost. At least then you could have an excuse for taking a while to arrive and stall.

Here, you had no such luxury.

The doors to the room were closed this time, seeing as you had shut them on your way out yesterday. However, they were no less daunting and creepy. The weather didn’t help either, with the thunder and lightning making you jump every so often.

Mentally screaming in your mind, you gripped your whip tightly, and pushed the door open.

It slowly swung open with a creak, echoing loud in the humongous room before you. Though that was nothing compared to the sound of blood pumping through your ears.

Lightning once again was your only real source of light, the clouds blocking most the daylight outside, and the room eerily remaining unlit.

The room still had its main centerpiece as well, the giant statue in front of the throne.

Reluctantly, you strode forward, one step after the other, until you were a mere few feet from the sculpture once again.

It hadn’t changed since yesterday. Dracula simply remained in that kneeling, outstretched pose. His hand reached out towards you still, all while the same snarl was present on his beautifully sculpted face.

Of course vampires would still look good, even when turned to stone.

As you quietly studied the statue, you felt the hair on your neck stand on end, and your adrenaline spike.

You swore you were being watched.

Your eyes quickly met Dracula’s stone ones, and your breath caught in your throat.

He was watching you. He had to be.

Even if you couldn’t prove it, you could swear he was aware, watching your every move.

The hand holding your whip gripped it tighter, and it was as if you saw amusement in his eyes, just beckoning you to strike him.

‘Come on, little Belmont. Hit me, strike me down. Destroy me if you can!’

Your face scrunched up, and you were about to lift your whip to attack, before you stopped yourself.

The air grew tense, like the room itself was holding a bated breath.

Was this really what you wanted? Was it a good idea?

Was it a kind one?

Your arm dropped uselessly to your side, and the grip on your whip slackened.

Could you really kill someone who could not fight back, and currently posed no threat?

The thought made your stomach sour, all while you were screaming at yourself in your head.

“Why now, morality? Could you not hit me at a worse time?” You grumbled to yourself.

Dracula was definitely not some defenseless being, far from it.

But here? It just seemed cruel.

The fabled enemy of your clan, reduced to a statue, unable to even defend himself against you.

Again, it just seemed cruel, and highly unhonorable.

And… it was something your mother had drilled in your head as a child.

Never attack anything that poses no threat, and can’t defend itself. We are Hunters, but we are also Belmonts. We shouldn’t be needlessly cruel, even if it’s a creature of the night. Not all things that go hide in the shadows wish harm, and those who can’t cause it shouldn’t be slaughtered.

It was a rarity to come across a monster that posed no threat, or wished no harm. But for you, it wasn’t unheard of.

Your mother had been a kind woman, who wanted to give people and monsters a chance if they showed potential. She told you many stories of monsters wanting to just exist, and that needlessly killing made you no better than the ones deserving a hunt.

But did that apply to Dracula? Lord of Vampires? Chosen one of Chaos or whatever? Guy who sent the armies of hell onto the world?

Though that did give you pause. You had read something about that in an old journal when you were younger.

Your ancestor, Trevor, had mentioned something. He had fought alongside Dracula’s son, Alucard. The writing was old, but you faintly remember Dracula declared war on mankind, because humans had killed his wife.

The journal didn’t go into further detail about that. It was more about the journey he had, and other things that had happened in his life since confronting Dracula.

But what you remember about it, made your mothers words ring loud in your head. You didn’t know the details… And he did kill a bunch of people… But the church had killed his human wife.

Hell, if the church killed your partner, you’d be pretty pissed too.

Certainly not an excuse, but… It certainly painted him in a different picture. How many of your ancestors considered that every time Dracula was revived?

It left a weird taste in your mouth. The kills he had committed were unforgivable. But… that had been hundreds of years ago, because his wife was murdered.

How could you even kill him now, when he hasn’t done anything? Stuck like this?

Did he have regrets? Was he just bound by fate to be killed almost immediately after being revived? Again and again? When was the last time anyone in your family had a conversation with him, not just pointing fingers and telling him to die for being a monster?

So many questions, and you couldn’t get any answers. Not with him like this.

Your instincts were screaming at you to pull your whip back and just finish the job.

But you couldn’t. Not like this.

He was stuck as a statue. If anything, trying to kill him would probably make everything worse.

Say you did kill him by striking the stone. Great. Now you just had to wait another century or so for him to revive again. Then it definitely would be your children or grandchildren’s problem.

The Lord of Vampires was stuck here. He wasn’t able to hurt anyone. Perhaps that was best.

Even if this whole situation felt… weird? Awful? Bad? Off? Confusing?

You had a lot of words and confusing feelings about it, that was for sure.

With a sigh, you hung your whip on your belt, and ran a hand through your hair, looking at the statue while biting your lip.

“Is this really the best idea?” You asked yourself, once again mentally cursing your morality. This was a lose lose scenario to you, no matter how you looked at it.

Try and kill him, and you kill someone who can’t fight back, or currently hurt anyone. It goes against your honor and morals.

Or, you try to kill him, and accidentally free him. You either win, and feel awful about attacking him when he can’t fight back, or you get killed and possibly get humanity destroyed.

But even leaving him as a statue didn’t sit well with you either. Surely, if he is aware, then is this truly right? Leaving someone in what is arguably a position worse than death?

But it’s Dracula. Dracula!!

How can you possibly have sympathy or pity for a guy who has killed people?! Raised armies from hell? Had innocents slaughtered hundreds of years ago!?

You wanted to bang your head against a wall.

“That’s it. I’ve lost my mind!” You spoke, exasperated. Turning, you pointed a finger at the statue.

“I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for my mother. Wait, no-”

You wanted to scream. Why would you admit that.

Well… It’s not like he can use her against you, at least.

Though you certainly wanted to smack yourself, but you stopped from doing so when you glimpsed at the statue again. The air had almost shifted. It wasn’t tense like it had been before.

The statue was the same as ever. Same snarl on his face, same claws reaching out. But it felt different somehow.

It had to be the eyes.

You swear the bastard must be laughing at you from his mind, you could just tell.

‘This is the Belmont that is supposed to destroy me? They won’t even raise their weapon against me? Pathetic.’

You couldn’t read his mind, sure, but his smug bastard aura seemed to mock you.

Or maybe you were just taking this too personally. That was a possibility too. You came to this area to relieve stress near your breaking point, and all this happened. It wouldn’t surprise you if your stress was making this feel a little too personal.

Not that the statue needed to know that.

You shot a look at said statue. His smug aura continued to mock you. You held back from giving him a rude gesture.

“Some Belmont I am. Ha. Not even gonna kill the guy I’ve been ‘destined’ to destroy. Hmph” You muttered, now looking around the room.

It was kinda nice for a throne room, if you were being honest. You know, despite belonging to a Lord of Vampires and all.

“You know…” You began after a few moments, “This place doesn’t look half bad. I heard this castle takes different forms each time it appears, but it does look cool, I’ll give you that.”

You didn’t really want to think as to why you were humoring the statue with conversation. Well, more so your musings, but still.

“This throne room probably looks even cooler when actually lit up. I imagine the clouds probably stay with the castle or something, to help keep the natural sunlight out from the windows? Regardless, the lightning lighting up the room is a neat touch. Very gothic and atmospheric.”

The room was silent, though you heard the occasional clap of thunder. Awkward.

You sighed, and turned back towards the statue.

“Okay, look. I’m not going to attack you or kill you, or whatever. I’m firmly against just… Going in headfirst like that, and attacking someone who can’t defend themselves, or is a threat to others. I don’t even know if you can hear me. For all I know, I’m just making myself look like a jackass.”

You shook your head, almost unable to believe the words coming out of your mouth.

“Regardless, if you can hear me… If you break free from whatever…. this is,” You vaguely gestured to his stone form, “I’ll be here. I will make sure to finish the job if I have to. I won’t have you putting innocent humans in danger.”

Quickly, you turned on your heels, and looked over your shoulder.

“But… I’d love to have a conversation first. Did any of my ancestors just sit down and talk with you, or did they attack you on sight? Maybe that will be my downfall, but hey, I’m curious.”

Plus, you’d like to get some real answers to things. You couldn’t rely on century old journals for both sides of a story. Perhaps it was your mother’s words echoing in your head again, but you would rather learn more about your adversary before you made a decision on taking his life again.

If you came to the conclusion he would hurt more innocent people, then hey, you at least would no longer feel bad about having to kill the guy.

Though that sounded more morbid than you would like.

“I’ll be back. Just because I’m not doing anything now, doesn’t mean I won’t be keeping an eye on you.”

With that, you took a deep breath, and headed towards the exit. Despite the anticlimactic end to this ‘meeting’, your heart was pounding in your chest. It took all your willpower to keep your chin high, and avoid shaking.

It was hard to ignore the feeling of eyes baring into your back.

You didn’t falter, even as you closed the doors to the throne room, or as you quickly walked down the stairs and through the castle.

Even as you left through the courtyard, you continued on walking, head held high, not even looking back behind you.

It wasn’t until you reached the cabin, that you shut the door behind you, and threw your supplies to the ground.

Your back hit the door behind you, and you slid down it, and broke into a sob.

Why did everything in your life seem to always go wrong?

—-

It had been a long time since he had seen a living soul.

It had been years, decades even, since he had last seen anyone. Anything.

Dracula had to admit to himself, this curse had been one of the worst things he had experienced yet.

The other times he had been defeated, he was merely killed or destroyed. As much of a literal pain and annoyance as it was, to be revived time and time again, only to be killed off, this easily took the cake.

At least when he was killed, his soul was either wandering hell, or temporarily at rest. But this? Being stuck as stone for decades? Even he had limits to his seemingly endless patience.

There was nothing to do. Nothing he could do.

Nothing but sit here and think, all alone with his thoughts. If he wasn’t who he was, he no doubt would have gone insane by now.

Or perhaps he already had? He could not say.

But he had been here, alone for a long time. All thanks to those Belmonts.

The last Belmont had arrived not too long after he had been revived for the umpteenth time. He had come in, determined to ‘slay the beast, once and for all.’

Dracula had scoffed at the outlandish remark, one the Belmont’s ancestors all had said. How each would end his ‘reign of terror’ and save humanity.

Though most of the time, he hadn’t exactly been revived willingly, or had desired to come back. Nor in half those cases, had even done anything to humanity. Yet.

But this time, he’ll admit the Belmont took him off guard.

The battle had been going poorly for the human hero, and Dracula found himself quickly winning. A delicious change of pace from the past few hundred years or so.

However, he should have known the battle would have ended up being a farce.

The Belmont had played him. Behind the scenes, a little human friend had secretly been setting up a trap. A series of runes with magic power. Right when he thought he had the little hero pinned, a bright light had enveloped both, before the Belmont had slipped away.

Despite having happened so long ago, that final battle was still fresh in his mind.

Chains of light gripped his wrist, his body, everywhere. Everything burned.

“What… What is this!?” He yelled in shock and outrage, his victory stolen from right beneath him. The Belmont gave him a steely look, and raised the whip, striking him as he was stuck.

Dracula could only snarl, and gripped his side when hit with a particularly nasty lash.

Chanting filled the room, and his eyes landed on the human woman he had previously ignored. The chains glowed brighter, burning his eyes, burning his flesh.

“No! What is this!? Release me!” He demanded, attempting to struggle, though was only met with more licks from that cursed whip.

“Silence, beast. When we are through, you won’t be able to hurt anyone ever again.”

Dracula’s eyes widened, the chanting becoming clear. He recognized that spell. The runes on the floor, the chant, the spell.

“No! I will not be imprisoned-!” He growled, his face warping into a snarl. In a last ditch effort, he reached forward towards the Belmont with all his remaining might…

...Only for the light to begin to envelope his body. He was too late. He couldn’t escape this, his body was already beginning to harden.

“Hear me speak Belmont, and know this!” He spat out, trying to fight the spell as much as he could.

“It will be by your clan’s blood, I shall be revived once more!”

The Belmont’s eyes widened, and the human girls eyes widened, her chanting pausing for a brief second before quickly continuing.

“Your kin will find me, and through their blood, I shall be released once more! It shall be done!”

There was a strange snap in the air, and the curse slotted into place. Dracula grinned maliciously, before snarling once more in pain.

The light flashed once more, and Dracula could move no more. His body turned to stone.

The Belmont and the woman sagged, the tension leaving their bodies. However, they shared an uncertain look, one that Dracula mentally took glee in.

His power, even if he hadn’t been at full power at that fight, was not something to scoff at. Speaking such a curse into existence with his remaining strength was no issue, though he was not fond of relying on them.

And the satisfaction of seeing such unease on a Belmont after they ‘won’ the battle, was something he would keep burned in his mind. Even as they reluctantly left as his castle began to ‘collapse’, he couldn’t help but feel like he had the last laugh.

Especially when his castle disappeared, reappearing somewhere he knew not. Cold and empty, mirroring his status as stone.

Now, all he had to do was wait. Fate would find the Belmonts eventually.

And wait he did.

It was torture, but much like he had expected, the wait paid off.

He couldn’t say how long exactly it had been, since he had been sealed away here, but it was certainly long enough for a new Belmont to show up.

You.

He felt your presence the moment you entered the castle. At first, he wasn’t sure if it was a Belmont or not. He just knew it was a human.

But the moment you peeked through those large doors, he knew.

A nee Belmont had arrived, and he felt his excitement beginning to rise. Finally, he’d be free of his stone prison.

But… then he wasn’t.

You were a small, squirrelish little thing, jumping at every noise you heard.

He recognized that hunter’s instinct of yours. No doubt running wild with how confused you must be, given your expressions.

Though he had to admit, he was quite curious about this Little Belmont.

Surely, your ancestor explained to the family his curse, to keep you all away? Why were you here?

Surely, it wasn’t to slay him. You looked ill prepared for a battle against him.

When you hesitantly poked him, and jumped back, he wanted to laugh when it all clicked into place.

You had no idea why he was like this. Your family hadn’t told you about his curse.

It was obvious from your behavior, and how jumpy you were, not to mention the dagger in your hands.

You obviously knew who and what he was, but didn’t know why he was a statue. He could cackle at his luck.

This Little Belmont would be the one to free him. Their blood would be the blood to release him from his prison. He could feel it.

But you still managed to surprise him. Instead of attacking his little prison, you turned around, and left.

The little hunter was obviously very frazzled, but it hadn’t been what he had been expecting.

He anticipated you pulling out your family whip, and attempting to destroy him. Something no doubt would have happened, and you would have ended up injured, and your spilt blood freeing him.

But that didn’t happen. You just left.

He briefly wondered if perhaps, his mind had made the whole thing up, but alas, he knew it was true. After years of being stuck in the same position, day after day, he recognized that everything that had happened had been real.

And he always would recognize a Belmont. Their blood had a peculiar scent. A scent that he was far too familiar with, after all these centuries.

But this left him quite confused.

No matter, you would be back, he was sure.

He didn’t even have to wait long. The very next day, you had reappeared.

You seemed more prepared this time, your face blank, and your body language reflecting that more of a hunter. The Little Belmont looked ready for battle.

Oh, how he anticipated such a battle from you. You were such a tiny thing compared to him, it was almost cute.

But he wouldn’t underestimate you, oh no. You may seem weaker and unsuspecting than some predecessors, but he had battled enough of your family not to take you lightly.

Especially after the last battle he had. His prison was a cold reminder to never let his guard down in battle again.

You approached him, your gaze level with his. Slowly, you raised your whip, fully intending to strike him. This was it, the opportunity he had been waiting for! He was practically begging you to attack him. Surely, you would bleed, freeing him-!

…Except, you didn’t strike him. You simply looked at him, an odd look on your face. Your arm then went limp at your side, and Dracula was almost speechless. Were you not going to try and destroy him? Much like your predecessors? You came in, fully intent on doing so, if your get up and body language was anything to go by.

So why?

“Why now, morality? Could you not hit me at a worse time?” You grumbled to yourself, and suddenly it all made sense to Dracula. He almost wanted to laugh.

The Little Belmont pitied him? Felt they were going against their morals? Such things got people killed. How were you alive this long if you struggled with such emotions?

It was kind of amusing. And a little pathetic.

Perhaps it was his patience wearing thin, or his distaste for your clan, but he was about fed up.

But… He’d be lying if he said he didn’t find you interesting. You, a Belmont, were debating the moralities of killing your clan’s greatest enemy. It was so ridiculous, he would have scoffed if he could.

But you were a bit amusing. How long had it been since he had any form of entertainment?

“I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for my mother. Wait, no-”

Oh how he wanted to laugh, but also was intrigued. What did your mother have to do with this? Was she a soft hunter? Regardless, you seemed rather upset that you had admitted that to him, realizing your own mistake.

He didn’t know whether to laugh, or see this as a letdown.

Dracula chose to be amused.

Especially since you seemed to pick up on his amusement, only making him wish he could laugh even more.

It was almost cute, how you seemed to puff up like a tiny animal, with how upset you were getting. How prickly you seemed to become.

You weren’t happy with his amusement. It seemed to make you more irritated. Good.

He could just feel you trying to ignore the urge to say something crass or rude as time went on, and you talked with yourself.

Though it didn’t take you long to ‘calm down’.

But once again, you surprised him when you started talking about his castle, and the throne room.

Just who were you? Were you really a Belmont? Your quick 180 was throwing him for a slight loop.

Though he had a suspicion you were doing it to deflect. You had some idea he was aware, judging by how you were talking to him as if he was in the room, but you seemed unsure on how to move forward.

Though you seemed to pick up on the atmosphere, and spun around to face him.

“Okay, look. I’m not going to attack you or kill you, or whatever. I’m firmly against just… Going in headfirst like that, and attacking someone who can’t defend themselves, or is a threat to others. I don’t even know if you can hear me. For all I know, I’m just making myself look like a jackass.”

You were, but hey, he was enjoying the mess of a show.

Though your statement did interest him. Surely, you shouldn’t be alive by now if that was your ‘morals’ that you had mentioned? Or had times truly changed through the centuries, and he hadn’t had a chance to see them?

But you still made a point to ‘threaten’ him, as weak as the threat was. But it was your next set of words that genuinely surprised him

“But… I’d love to have a conversation first. Did any of my ancestors just sit down and talk with you, or did they attack you on sight? Maybe that will be my downfall, but hey, I’m curious.”

You at least acknowledged that what you had said was a bit… odd. Didn’t you ever learn curiosity killed the cat?

Dracula could not lie though. This was a changing point for him. You wished to talk? With him? He normally would be amused, but… You were something else. Something entirely new.

When was the last time he had a civil conversation with a Belmont? No lives on the line for either side? No one yelling threats and obscenities?

He might have misjudged you. That alone struck a chord with him.

You seemed so weak and pathetic earlier, but… Getting a good look at you, you had a look of someone who was wise beyond their time. You stumbled a bit, and were scared of him, he could tell that much.

However, you had an air of wisdom he has not seen in a long while. A type of wisdom one got through hardship. He’d argue his old friend Leon was the last Belmont to act as such, and that opened his eyes.

You had since turned on your heels while he had been deep in thought, and your next words almost excited him.

“I’ll be back. Just because I’m not doing anything now, doesn’t mean I won’t be keeping an eye on you.”

If he could lick his lips, he would have. Oh, how he was so curious about you now. You were more of a Belmont than he gave you credit for. It all made sense.

It was about time there was a Belmont that was close to Leon in views and personality. They all matched and surpassed his old friend’s strength, and they all had a strong desire to protect.

But many didn’t have Leon’s desire to talk things out, and hear what the other party had to say. Some indulged Dracula after defeating him, but most did not care, just wishing him gone.

After that, you hastily made an exit, not even turning to look at him like you had last time. He watched you as you left, already looking forward to seeing you again, and what antics you might get into when you do so.

He ignored the small pull in his chest as he watched you leave, unwilling to admit he already missed your presence.

[spiderfunkz]

TILL DEATH DO WE PART

pairings : robin buckley x gn!reader

summary : ever since the fall of hawkins, ever since the world fell into chaos, and ever since you left it too. for 253 days robin is left shattered.

words : 0.6k

warnings : ANGST lots of angst, character death, foul language, reader getting vecna'ed (AGAIN I AM SORRY), reader dies of vecna instead of max, grief, established relationship, mentions of heartbreak, my horrible grammar since english is not my first language.

a/n : i am back with another angst fic whoops!! i had this idea for a while but i haven't had the motivation to actually write but now i do soooooo... also this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and i don't know if the dates are correct or not anymore so if it's not just ignore that thank u :)

it's been 253 days. 253 days since the fall of hawkins. 253 days since you left and took a piece of robin with you. nobody expected for this to happen, no one. it wasn't suppose to be you, it never was suppose to be you. but faith is faith, and you can't change faith. it was your time to go now. and was worse is that no one was there to save you.

it was the day before you had to go back to the upside down to finally defeat vecna, it's tiring yes, so you decided to take a short walk outside the wheeler's house to clear your mind. i mean it was a lot to take, some guy you knew from d&d is now a wanted person, your friend saw some messed up vision from vecna, and max was basically getting chased by death itself.

max saw visions, like nancy, maybe worse. she had nightmares about her dead brother for 5 days, headaches that never seem to stop, and if it wasn't for her walkman she'd be dead by now.

you knew the signs of vecna, it was like a pattern for all his victims. nightmares, headaches, visions, and soon death. but you were to worried about max, so you payed attention to her and less attention towards yourself for you not to notice the same patterns going on for you.

god, you should've listened to your girlfriend. robin warned you about these things yet you keep ignoring it, you regretted it so, so much. you would trade everything and anything to see her pretty face again. but you can't change that now, you're gone. and you took a piece of her with you.

now it's almost christmas, it was suppose to be your 2nd christmas with robin but instead of having pillow fights or buying matching sweaters, she's visiting your grave.

she's wearing the coat you used to always wear, eyes red, and a note in her hands along with a flower, sobbing quietly.

"it's almost christmas m'love. and um, i found our old stuff from before you know, all of this shit just had to come up but, i found a letter that i think you were gonna give me, or you were suppose to give me i don't know anymore." she sighed, opening the note.

"hi robs, it's me y/n. by the time you're reading this i just hope, i'm still by your side. i've been having these nightmares that feel so real, these visions or voices that i hear in them, and i've been having headaches for like 4 days and they just don't stop. i don't know if it's because i'm tired from all this shit that's going on at the moment, but i don't wanna tell everyone and cause a whole mess on the situation. max needs all the attention she can get and she needs it. look, if i am dead i just want to let you know how much you mean to me. i want to tell you all the things i couldn't, or things that i don't have time saying.

robin buckley you are the best person that has come into my life when i needed someone the most. the past days and hours i have spent with you, i will cherish every single second of that until i die. you mean so much to me and i love you so much and i will never stop loving you. you brought the light and joy i needed, and i am so proud to say that you're my girlfriend. i love you, and please don't stop being you.

you're my whole world, the sun to my moon. i am so proud of you and i know you can go through this with or without me. you're strong, love. i know you are.

i will forever love you, robin. - love, y/n."

and with tears in her eyes, robin broke. she missed you more than anything. you were her whole world, and she was yours. but now her world is gone.

"till' death do we part." robin cried, holding the letter close to her.

[howl-at--the-sun]

Okay I know I don't write much anymore but the ideas that @skyward-floored and @smilesrobotlover had really inspired me so thank them for my motivation

@squigglywindy @goosekee

It was almost comical sometimes, how a well trained and well organized group of insanely powerful heroes who had bested the toughest enemies and the most tedious of minigames in each of their respective lands, could be brought down by something as simple as a protruding root.

Said root was a visible-but-hard-to-spot-unless-you-were-really-looking-for-it bump in the middle of the dusty road that led from the Links' camp to the village just a short walk away. The unfortunate discoverer of this bump was the Hero of Winds, who was strolling back from the village with an armload of red and green potions he had acquired from a vendor in town.

"Well they didn't have as many green potions as you wanted, Time, but they had more than enough red ones, plus a really good deal on a wayward fairy so I hope you guys don't mind that I took it...."

As Wind continued to talk, his feet grew ever closer to that fateful root until his left foot caught it mid sentence and he was sent tumbling into the dirt in front of him.

"Oh flippers!" Wind swore as he got back onto his feet. "I didn't see that flipping root!"

"Flippers?" Legend snorted.

Wind quickly fixed Legend with A Look, raising an eyebrow and asking cooly, "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No no no" Legend said quickly. "I've just never heard that expression before,"

"Hey, it's not the weirdest one that I've heard," Twilight jumped in. "I grew up around a bunch of kids so I've got some creative swears too,"

Wind perked up at that. "You too! What's your favorite one?"

"Hmm, either 'son of a nannie' or 'billie bucker'" Twilight said.

"Billie bucker!" Wind snorted. "Oh that's genius!"

"'Son of a deku nut' was my favorite one to use when I was younger," Time added with a smile. "It still slips out some times,"

"Wow you guys are certainly creative," Legend said. "I've always just gone with the classic 'fuck'. Well, unless I'm at the castle and I need a more proper way to express my utter fucking annoyance with some of the nobles that Zelda is forced to keep around,"

"I can confirm, there are many ways to formally say 'fuck you'" Warriors added. "I've had to use a couple more than a few times to deal with the......finer sort of nobles that hang around the castle,"

"Ooooh, what's your favorite one?" Wild ask, falling backwards across a log to join the conversation.

Warriors cleared his throat, sat up ramrod straight, and put on his most formal voice to say, "Sir or madam, is it a recognizable part of your duties to emulate a gadfly to the best your abilities?"

Wild choked out a laugh, almost falling from his precarious position on his log in mirth.

"Perfect!" He crowed. "I'll be sure to use that when another snotty great grandkid of a fifth son of a noble killed in the Calamity wants to take up Zelda's time!"

"I trust that you boys will only use these insults when it is proper," Time said with a wry smile that revealed he was absolutely going to use them whenever he damn well pleased.

"Yes, of course, of course, old man," Legend said dismissively. "Now can I have a red potion?"

Wind looked back to the road, where a muddy brown splotch of broken glass and brown liquid sat.

"Whoops......"

[juniperhillpatient]

how do you feel about the character ikem? I have seen other fans say that he was "creepy" for obsessing over ursa for so many years. curious about your thoughts!

I would preface this by saying that I am not a fan of the writing in the ATLA comics at all & do not consider the comics canon. I joke that I take what I want from the comics & consider the parts I personally like canon because I think that they presented some potentially interesting concepts that were poorly executed. Ikem is among those concepts.

I can't hate Ikem on a personal level because he is so poorly written & so little thought seems to have gone into his characterization & motivations on the part of the writers. Yes, from an objective standpoint, obsessing over a woman for years & encouraging her to lose her memories & marrying her with no memories & lying to her kids when they come looking for her is....fucking creepy. Worse still is the way it's framed as normal & even good behavior. But like. He doesn't feel like a real fleshed-out person enough for me to hate him so much as I hate the writers for doing all that.

The thing (for me) is that if you take away everything the comics did with Ikem, giving Ursa a love interest that is not Ozai & shares her passion for theatre & maybe loved her before Ozai is...actually a good story? So is Ursa having started a new family & having a new kid? I mean, she thought she would never see Zuko or Azula again. Starting fresh in & of itself is sympathetic, especially if it's with someone from her past who made her happy. Choosing to erase her own memories...I don't know, perhaps it could be done well if the writers put any thought into it, but that storyline came out as such a nonsensical OOC mess that completely ruined Ursa's show! characterization as a mama bear & also a person with the potential for ruthlessness in a way that could have mirrored Azula. They could have delved into Ursa's willingness & desire to "move on" from her old life & start fresh & the psychological impact this would have on Zuko & Azula. Instead, they did....whatever the fuck happened in "The Search."

This turned into a rant. Whoops. Back to Ikem - I like the guy, in theory, like I said. The whole thing about "obsessing for years" was clearly meant to be romantic & in the past, I have written it as such with a very different take than the comics because I just had him thinking of Ursa as "the one that got away" & being excited to reconnect with her after she & Ozai ended & getting to know the new her. This in itself is a romantic concept to me. It's the way it was executed that came off clumsy & wrong with Ikem showing no regard for Ursa or the person she is now or her two children from her marriage to Ozai. But I can't even blame the poorly written 1-dimensional character for that because truly, it comes down to the WRITERS not wanting to put any thought into Ursa's character.

I like to use the shell of Ikem's character in fics to write a man that is essentially an OC because as I said I DO like the idea of Ursa having a new family if it's actually tackled. I find it more intriguing for me personally to write an Ikem that (has nothing to do with the comics other than his premise) DOES love Ursa & is a decent man who has the potential to care about Zuko & Azula & be a good stepfather to them. I like to write about Zuko & Azula healing & reconciling & perhaps starting fresh WITH Ursa & dealing with all the complex feelings amongst them. So, Ikem is a character I enjoy writing I just use him completely differently than the comics do :D

Thank you for the ask! 💖