#did robing have an upsetting childhood? yes

[nakitengoku]

[image ID: a reply from @inebriatus-est-a-te that reads, "What about robin??" End ID]

While yes, Robin was not loved by her foster parents or most of the population of O'Hara, the scholars almost definitely cared and loved her for all they could and tried to keep her safe. Even Saul cared deeply for her, helping her escape when she most needed it. Hell, even her own mother loved her, even if she was never around to show it.

Do you ever think about how in all of their childhoods, the strawhats were all loved?

Maybe not by their birth parents, and maybe not right away, but they were loved by someone. Not a single one went without love in their entire childhood.

I think about it a lot

[imperator-titus]

Ghost from the Past [Part 9]

The Gang finally figures out what Eletha's problem is.

Had this one written out for a while. Features a lot of my triggers because I'm fucking insane. Sometimes you just wanna punish yourself, right? That's normal?

CW: General Mental Illness issues, Mentions of past abuse and suicidal ideation, Also the Super Secret Weird Trigger

(Prev)[Part 8] (Next)[Part 10] [Master Post]

No one saw Eletha leave her tent for two days while they braved the shadow curse and all its challenges. Astarion would’ve stayed upset about this if he wasn’t excited about Raphael’s offer of help. Gale told him that they should wait and see before making any deals with devils and now Astarion was giving him the cold shoulder.

Worried and sick of the mood in camp, Gale convinced Bonnet to let him into her mistress’s tent. There he found her in a curious state: not quite elven trance, but not quite conscious either. Tentatively, he shook her shoulder, but she didn’t rouse. Clenched in her hand was a tattered scrap of cloth, perhaps a remnant of some once-fine robe or doublet.

“Pardon me,” he whispered as he decided his next course of action. Reaching out with both magic and the tadpole, he murmured softly, “Do let me know if I’m intruding.”

Something connected and his mind was transported to someplace else. The ground was just a shade different from the sky, creating a sense of boundless emptiness. Here he found Eletha sitting on the edge of- Well, it was a rather large hole with no discernable sides or bottom, just complete darkness.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have any tea or cake,” she told him listlessly, eyes not leaving the hole. Her skin was covered in scratches and her clothes were torn. “Poor reception for a friend. Wizard friend.”

“May I… sit?” Gale asked hesitantly, peering into the hole only to be met with nothing. Eletha nodded and he sat down beside her. “Is this what troubles you?”

“Mm. I’m losing it, aren’t I? Out there.” She didn’t wait for his answer. It was rather obvious that if he was here, he felt that she was in danger. In a haunting sing-song voice she went on, “Down, down, down. Spiraling down. Cracked like an egg, to hatch or to eat? The dry leaves sound lovely, under our feet.”

Well that’s concerning, Gale thought to himself. “What is in the hole?”

“Something old. Something bad. Lorelai.”

“Ah, your childhood name, yes?”

“Bad, evil, mean old Lorelai,” she said by way of answer, using the tone of a child talking about a monster in a book or a hated schoolmarm. Then darkly, like that hated schoolmarm, she added, “Little Lorelai doesn’t know any better.”

“You know, I was quite the scamp back in my day too. That’s how I met Tara. My parents denied me a kitten, so I summoned a tressym instead,” he explained with a fond smile and a twinkle in his eyes. He went on about other ‘naughty’ things he did as a child, such as summoning mephits or destroying things with errant magic. He felt that if he could get her to accept that making trouble as a child was a normal part of growing up, then she might begin to forgive herself for whatever she’d done.

Gale’s happy memories only served to weaken the edge of the hole further, bits breaking off every now and then. While speaking about his mother, how much he loved her, the hole suddenly emitted a disturbing sound. A wail mixed with crying, piercing and discordant. Gale stopped his story, training his senses to make heads or tails of what was happening. The wail faded as voices rose in its stead. Elven voices, melodic and refined, called out “Lorelai.”

“Lorelai, you are too young to make such decisions,” Eletha said in Elvish in a man’s voice. It sounded stern and agitated, almost hostile. “Non Moverē.”

She recited the incantation for a Hold Person spell with perfect precision, but it was only an echo of a memory. Whoever had cast it was highly skilled.

“You must set aside your feelings for the good of us all. I did not raise you to be a brat, A’Sum. This is a blessing,” she said in a woman’s voice. It was sharp and disappointed. This voice called upon the Weave to calm her daughter’s emotions.

“If you cannot behave, then we will make you behave, my blood or not,” a second man’s voice said through Eletha’s lips. It snarled, full of revulsion. “Impero tibi.”

I command you, from the tongue of an expert spellcaster. Young and inexperienced, Eletha would have been unable to resist.

“I… I think I understand,” Gale said after waiting a moment for her to continue. “It will be okay. You have us now. We won’t let that happen.”

“It doesn’t make a difference,” she said in her own voice, streaked with pain. “It’s always been here. It’s not going away this time.”

“What-”

A monstrous black claw shot out of the black hole. Gale threw himself back, only to fall out of Eletha’s tent.

“What in the hells was that about?” Karlach asked, looking down at him with confusion.

“I was trying to help,” he answered, trying to rub the befuddlement out of his head.

“MmMmh, breakfast?” Eletha asked blearily, poking her head out of the tent flap. “Can I have eggs?”

“No, Lethi, go back to sleep,” Karlach told her, pushing her friend back into the tent when she appeared to be asleep sitting up.

“So. What hot gossip did you two discuss?” Astarion purred as he approached Gale’s tent, where the wizard was currently writing in his journal. Despite his attempts to seem otherwise, it was clear that the question came from a place of concern.

“Do you remember anything of your families?” Astarion glared at him.

“No. All I know is what little Eletha has told me. They were semi-important.” Gale hummed in response, distracted. “Why?”

“Nothing. Only something to consider.” Astarion huffed with false humor. Scratching his beard, talking more to himself than Astarion, Gale said, “It’s a shame Cazador made you forget your old life. Of us all, you can relate to her the most…”

“I’m not sure I understand the similarities.”

“Held against your will by someone who claims to love you, to be your family. Made to behave. Bodies not yours to command,” Gale explained rather compassionately. Then he grew pensive again. “What did she do, that necessitated such methods of containment? Is it the action, or the reaction, that is affecting her?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. It’s always ‘I did a bad horrible thing, I’m evil, I can never be forgiven.’ Things like that.” Astarion laughed then sighed a little sadly. “Oh Gale. First a goddess. Now an insane elf. How does it feel to fall so far?”

“Does driving your first lover into the arms of pain and madness hurt worse or less than all the blood on your hands?” Gale sniped. Astarion startled, then bristled.

“That’s not fair,” he warned.

“Any more fair than what you just said?” Gale asked, getting to his feet. Standing tall, he had to look down at Astarion a little bit. 

“Keep your meddling paws out of other people’s business,” Astarion growled.

“Why must you treat me like an enemy? We want the same thing: for her to get better. To do that, I’m afraid we must meddle in her business.”

“It’s not just her business, is it? It’s mine as well.”

“The business of a man buried over two centuries ago.” Gale tilted his head and the harshness left his eyes and voice. “You’re worried that she can’t forgive you.”

“Of course I am!” Stupid wizards. Why did they have to be so smart and also so slow at the same time?

“Mm, I find it unlikely. You hold a special place in her heart, broken or no,” Gale told him rather academically, picking something up from his desk. In his outstretched palm he held the scrap of cloth from Eletha’s tent. With a pair of tweezers, he carefully dissected it, revealing a lock of curly white hair. When his tweezers tried to brush the hairs, they were rebuffed. “A preservation charm. I can only assume that this hair once belonged to you, perhaps the garment this cloth came from as well. With a few tools and a wizard’s expertise, she could have easily found you in Baldur’s Gate.”

“But she didn’t. The one civilized place on the Sword Coast she’s never visited,” Astarion said harshly, hovering between shock and anger.

“There are many possible explanations. Eletha is a proponent of choices. You chose to leave, so she respected your choice. Perhaps she was afraid that you never loved her, or that you hated her for waiting so long to follow.” Gale carefully resealed the token so that it could be replaced in Eletha’s tent. “Perhaps she had no choice but to let you go. There’s no telling until she feels ready to explain.”

“I’ll put it back,” Astarion said after a moment, holding out his hand. Gale placed the token in his palm, only to gently take hold of his hand.

“It is a shame. I was hoping to encourage a relationship between us. Eletha was always interesting, a mix of mysterious and open, having lived a rich life of adventure. I had an impression that she found me interesting as well, but she is so clearly afraid of being hurt again.” Gale looked at their interlocked hands fondly. “I suppose I could say the same for you.”

Astarion clicked his tongue and emitted a soft sound of sweetness before threading his fingers through the loose waves of hair at the back of Gale’s neck. Pulling him down slightly while raising himself up on his toes, Astarion pressed their lips together in a needy kiss.Gale’s mouth opened slightly in a surprised gasp and Astarion found his tongue with his own.

Neither kissed like a novice, but it felt different. Electric. With the orb stabilized by Mystra, Gale didn’t fear the sudden excitement of flesh touching flesh or the sound of someone’s moans in his ears. Even Eletha’s light touches and chaste kisses on his head threatened to explode his heart after so long without a person’s touch.

He was suddenly aware of how clammy his hands had become. His body was shaking and his head felt like it might float away without him. A pit of sickness sat in his stomach and Gale pushed Astarion away just a little bit. Before Astarion could misunderstand, he said shakily, “I think it has been too long for me. I am a starving man eating more than his stomach can handle.”

Astarion’s face went through a range of emotions, from hurt to annoyance and finally thoughtfulness. “Eletha had that reaction too. I just assumed she was drunk, but the only thing you seem drunk on is the taste of my lips.”

“There is some truth to that,” Gale agreed with a light laugh. Holding a hand to his heart, he said, “I assure you, I enjoyed that very much.”

“I should… put this back,” Astarion said hesitantly with a small smile, indicating Eletha’s token. “Maybe I’ll come around later. Discuss… what was it we were reading now?”

“I have no clue.”

“Mm… I have done a number on you,” Astarion purred in self-satisfaction before leaving Gale’s tent.

Thankfully, Bonnet wasn’t sitting in front of Eletha’s tent when Astarion attempted to sneak in. The bear would’ve probably mauled him on sight otherwise.

He sat for a moment, just watching her breathe, fighting some internal demon. Very carefully, he placed the token in her open hand, which closed and retreated to her chest.

---

It was late and everyone was seeing to their evening routines when indecipherable elvish yelling grew louder in Eletha’s tent.

She emerged, a leather wallet in one hand, her face red with anger. Everyone was gathering, but she only had eyes for Astarion. Pointing an accusing finger at him, she yelled, “How dare you go through my things!”

Astarion chuckled nervously, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, like anyone else has an interest in my journals? The place where I keep all my intimate thoughts and memories?” Eletha sneered, narrowing her eyes. Astarion went from nervous to confused.

“I didn’t take your journals,” he insisted, biting off the urge to call her ‘darling’ or ‘my dear’. He knew by now that it could upset her more just as much as it could make her melt. “And even if I did, it would only be to figure out what’s wrong with you so we can move on.”

“What’s wrong with me?!” Those closest to her tensed, preparing to stop her if she decided to settle this with a fight. Those closer to Astarion gravitated towards him, to get between them if anything went wrong.

Instead, Eletha undid the complicated tie of her wallet and dumped the contents out onto the ground. A seemingly endless flood of books, papers, and scrolls fell out. Giving it one last shake to make sure it was empty, Eletha dropped the wallet on the pile.

“They’re yours now. Have fun,” she growled at him before returning to her tent. 

Those nearby rushed forward as a slight breeze caught the papers, threatening to blow them into the campfire. Everyone gathered to deal with the mess.

“Interesting. A bag of holding, but just for paper?” Gale pondered aloud as he inspected the leather wallet before setting it aside. Astarion snatched it up with a little glare. He was pretty sure he just got blamed for Gale’s sticky fingers and he wasn’t about to let the wizard take something Eletha just entrusted to him.

“She certainly needs it,” Shadowheart remarked, gathering some journals into a stack and setting them next to Gale, who immediately started organizing them.

“Wow, so many for this Lorelai person,” Karlach said after a while of picking up letters and putting them into a semi-neat pile. 

“That’s her childhood name,” Gale explained, becoming excited by something he’d noticed. “Elves pick their own name when they reach one hundred years of age.”

“Oh.” Karlach went from confused, to understanding, to confused again. “Why are they all still sealed? Seems weird, keeping letters you didn’t even bother readin’.”

Gale was deaf to the question, reading the oldest of the journals. In a stilting manner, as he not only had to translate Elvish, but a child’s Elvish, he read aloud to himself loud enough for them to hear. 

“Father said that I should keep a journal, so I can always remember what happened to me. Today isn’t my birthday, but another elf was born last week. Mother said they were worried I would get upset that I was no longer the youngest and wouldn’t get all the attention, so they gave me a gift. I don’t think the new baby wants the attention I get. All Father and Mother do is yell at me for not doing what they want, but I don’t understand what they want. Maybe Astarion will understand. But right now he is just a squishy ugly baby with BIG GOBLIN EARS. They are SO BIG. I hope he grows into them, like the hunting dogs’ puppies.”

On the other side of the page was a crude child’s drawing of what appeared to be a fat baby’s head with cherubic cheeks and some rudimentary curls. Attached to either side were massive elf ears. Surprised, Gale guffawed most uncharacteristically and turned the journal to show everyone. They all laughed, except Astarion, who grumbled in embarrassment.

“Mother says I have to take care of Astarion, it is my ‘role.’ All the Mothers tell me that I should prepare myself, even if it might never happen. Having to take care of him makes me feel gross. The way the Mothers talk about babies makes me feel grosser. I tried taking him away from them, so they’d stop making me feel bad and wouldn’t make him feel bad either, but they yelled at me and made me sit in the rocks again. It’s not Star’s fault. He’s just a baby. One day he’ll be my age, will he feel like this too? All the other children are so much older than me, they treat me like a baby too. I feel like I’ve grown up a lot in a year. I have to grow up just enough to protect Star but still be his friend.”

“Oh, that’s heartbreakin’…” Karlach breathed, holding her breath as she listened. The others were listening, reacting in their own little ways. Lae’zel was still cleaning up the mess. Shadowheart knelt, appearing as if in prayer. Wyll took special interest in each thing he picked up so he could put it in the appropriate pile. Halsin listened with compassionate sadness, while Astarion sat like a statue, frozen in place.

Gale skipped ahead, his wizard’s mind able to quickly read and catalog the information, especially as the Elvish got better. Something made him smile. “Astarion keeps stealing my socks. Why socks? At least they’re clean socks. A lot of stuff keeps going missing and showing up somewhere else and I think it’s him. A lot of them let Astarion into their caravan for no reason and let him do what he pleases, but I’ve seen him sneak into our caravan before to steal my socks. Whenever I catch him, he sticks them on his ears and says ‘I can’t hear you! I have feet for ears!”

Everyone but Astarion laughed once more.

“That’s so strange… It looks like she wrote or drew something every day, but there’s a whole year missing. The pages are ripped out.” Shadowheart pointed out, having flipped through a few of the journals herself. “She said Astarion left when she was 35, so the year after is missing.”

Everyone was making comments about him, but Astarion was deaf as he picked out a bundle of papers from the pile. One edge of them was jagged. He undid the piece of string holding them together and unfolded them.

“Lorelai will behave. Lorelai will eat. Will drink. Rest. Do as she is told. Stay. Not bite off her tongue. Not use the fire. Not practice the sword or the bow or with hands. She will not talk back, she will not scream or raise her voice. She will speak only when spoken to and always be polite. She will not interact with outsiders. She must always be accompanied. Always be clean. Lorelai will be a good girl. Lorelai will apologize for what she’s done. I am a good girl. I promise to be good. I am sorry for what I’ve done.”

The torn pages lined up with those tears in the journal. The first page after was a depiction of a black circle. Taking the journal from Astarion, Gale pointed at the picture. “I’ve seen that. In her head. ‘Something old, something bad. Evil, mean old Lorelai.’”

Gale flipped past some more drawings and lists of typical adventurer things like how many supplies she had and where she was going. Then it went back to a sane depiction of a journal.

“I am not a good girl. I will not do as I’m told. I will not behave. I will eat and drink to spite them. I will bite my tongue when it suits me, when its sharpness cannot aid me. I will speak loud and clear when I please. I will be alone. I will not apologize. I am not sorry for what I’ve done, my only regret is that I let them control me. I won’t let anyone control me ever again.

“I am never coming back. I will never forgive these transgressions against me. I will not forget them, but I will bury them, in a hole deep and dark and bottomless inside me. The hole they made in me, where my heart and family should be.

“I don’t believe that Astarion left in order to leave me behind. He loves to chase and be chased. But I will always wonder, if that was true, why didn’t he turn back to find me? Maybe they were right. I will grant them this small token of grace. Maybe I was abandoned, as I abandon in kind.

“I am far from my 100th year, but I shake off the yoke of my name. Everyone I meet will know me as Eletha, a name Astarion always liked, and I will fashion myself a Nighstar. Who will ever know it’s not true? I might not ever be important, these might be the only words ever written about me, but when I speak this name, I will know that I am more than what I was meant to be.”

“I can’t tell if that’s sad or brave…” Wyll whispered to himself.

“What’s… E… Sum? Hey, I’m getting pretty good at this Elvish thing!” Karlach said excitedly, holding up a letter she’d been inspecting. Gale, Shadowheart, Halsin, and Astarion went blank-faced.

“It says, ‘To my Son’,” Halsin explained gently and quietly, so Eletha couldn’t overhear them.

“I do not understand. As in a male child?” Lae’zel asked.

“Yes, Lae’zel. And seeing as Eletha is a female child…” 

Shadowheart laughed nervously, pinching Halsin’s arm to get him to shut up. “Maybe it’s for Astarion! And she just… forgot about it.”

“As nice as that seems…” Gale started darkly, holding Eletha’s journal with the pages ripped out, “With the knowledge I have, of all the theories I’ve considered, and the fact that I can recognize Eletha’s hand, it is most likely that this is to her son…”

Everyone sat in stunned silence for a moment. Then Karlach looked at Astarion and offered him a strained smile. “Congratulations?”

“That paper seems awfully old. And it looks like it was never sealed,” Wyll pointed out, taking the letter from Karlach. “She never sent this. Why keep it? I guess it’s like the others. Felt too guilty to burn it? Thrown in the bag and forgotten?”

“We shouldn’t read that, right? Even dictating every event of her life for over 260 years is less personal than that,” Shadowheart insisted warily, carefully taking the letter from Wyll and handing it to Gale.

“It is, however, the center of the problem,” Gale explained firmly. “If anyone is to read it, it should be Astarion.”

“Why should I read it?!” he yelled out, his voice cracking. Some of them leaned away nervously. “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy! This is crazy! This is insane! And not the least bit funny.”

“It is okay to be upset,” Halsin told him gently.

“Of course it’s okay! This is very upsetting! I’m sure for someone like you, this would come as no surprise! Almost two months ago, I was just a vampire spawn hunting for my master. I’ve had an old lover show up who wants to play mindgames, go insane, and now this?!”

“I don’t think it’s mindgames, bud,” Karlach said, going through a journal that appeared to be in Common instead of Elvish, although sometimes the script slipped and she had trouble reading it. “Look. 50 years ago. She met an elf on the road, they hit it off, they try to give it a go, she has a lot of nasty feelings after. Talks about this black pit, yeah? And it gets all hard to read. Then she says someone named Mellia found her and took care of her until she got better.”

“Mmm, sounds much like now. She’s spiraling,” Shadowheart said, taking the journal and reading the same bit like they were in some book club with only once copy.

“Down, down, down, spiraling down. Cracked like an egg, to hatch or to eat? The dry leaves sound lovely under our feet,” Gale repeated in a hollow sing-song voice, stroking his beard in thought.

“That’s right fucked.” Some murmured in agreement. Karlach looked at them all, hoping for an answer. “So what do we do? Hide all the booze? Make her stay awake?”

“Honestly, she was fighting harder before this little… break,” Wyll remarked. “I’d be happy if we could get back to that.”

“Eletha has been avoiding this since the beginning. This is an invitation as much as it is an explanation. She needs to say these words herself, so she might share the burden,” Halsin explained with the dispassion of a healer trying to be taken seriously at the expense of compassion.

“I didn't want to go to that hag, but Wyll was right. Damn those foolish boys and their foolish sister. People go to hags for a reason. They want something and there is payment. They are desperate and stupid and they don't understand that. I left Ethel and Mayrina alone because the girl made her choice. My parents, Astarion’s parents, the whole clan, they took my choice away from me.

“I can still hear that hag’s mockery in my head. ‘A dead dog is a better mother than you. Just as selfish and stupid as this girl. You should be ashamed of yourself, trying to smother a babe before it’s even born.’

“She’s wrong. I made the right choice, to walk away. He didn't deserve a mother like me. No child does. 

“If Mellia turned me, could she make me forget, like Astarion? Could Aluin just say some words, wiggle his fingers, or brew me a potion? Maybe this adventure will be my last and it’ll be some other elf’s problem in a hundred years. I’m sorry for haunting your reveries, my next life.

“I’m sorry, everyone. I wanted to protect you, to be strong for you. I wanted to be a shield against the cruelty of the world, but I’m afraid my steel is brittle and my wood rotten. I can’t be your mother any more than I could be his.”

“The rest is… scribbles,” Gale explained in saddened resignation, flipping past indecipherable text and grotesque attempts at artistry.

“Maybe we should put these away,” Halsin said, taking the pouch from Astarion and carefully putting journals in one by one. The others made tidy piles in front of them and passed the pouch around, until Gale was handing it back to Astarion.

“She did say that they were yours now,” he explained when Astarion started to push it away. “Although. A bag of holding just for texts? I would gladly take it off your hands.” 

“No, you can’t eat this one,” Astarion growled, putting his body in between the bag and Gale. Gale chuckled and smiled, easing the tension around the camp.

Astarion sat in his tent, alone, staring at the things in his lap. One was the wallet, and on top of it, the well-worn letter. He fingered its edge in agitation. A little tear formed and he panicked. Very carefully, he set it aside and opened the wallet once more. He placed the letters into little piles. Letters addressed to Lorelai, unopened. Letters addressed to Eletha, in smaller piles by sender. There were quite a few from people named ‘Mellia, Your Sanguine Companion’, ‘Aluin of Suzail’, ‘Tyrlumin, Your Melodic Cha’, and ‘Bromthrum Starkhammer, Provider of Fine Crafts.’ There were miscellaneous letters, some very old, from people thanking her for heroic deeds or just simple acts of kindness. There was even one thanking her for the exceptional quality of a set of mink pelts she provided that went into making a coat for some king Astarion never heard of.

He read them, because he couldn’t help himself. She seemed very close with her humanoid companions, which probably explained why she had so many letters.

Mellia, mysterious and charming, her oldest and possibly closest friend. They met when a pack of gnolls were terrorizing some little farming town. They banded together to slaughter every one. Eletha was just passing by, Mellia was a vampire and had an accord with one of the village leaders. It made his blood boil, he couldn’t think of a higher vampire and not see Cazador, but her letters were so… sweet. Not fake sweet. She would recount some event or vista that made her think of Eletha and their adventures. It was hard to imagine a vampire soaking with an elf in a hot spring up in some monster-infested mountains, but they apparently had 50 years ago. ‘I am glad that I could keep you away from the edge once more, my lovely friend. Maybe it is time you venture to Baldur’s Gate? I will gladly join you, and I know that you have other friends that would answer the call.’ A band of hardened adventurers, showing up at Cazador’s palace, demanding he relinquish his favorite spawn? A story for the ages… 

Aluin the human mage, whose words read nothing like Gale’s. Even as he grew older, his boyish exuberance could still be heard in his retellings of discoveries and mishaps. She lost her eye protecting him from a warg and guided him back to Suzail. To return the favor, he offered her a magic eye. It allowed her to peer into memories of places, things, and people, to see them as they once were. Aluin wanted her to take him on many adventures and he always thanked her from the bottom of his heart for every scrap of artifact she sent to him from her travels. There was a subtle love in his words. 

Tyrlumin, a half-elf bard, whose age she could not discern. He often talked to her like she was a child, but had his own childish penchant for getting into trouble. They met on the road, nothing special, but they were drawn to one another. It seemed he used her for inspiration in some of his songs. He would run into her, seemingly not by accident, and they would travel together until he would disappear in the night, leaving behind a note. It was often a dirty limerick.

Finally, Bromthrum, a purveyor of high-quality dwarven goods, trading to princes, wizards, and thieves alike. She came to his aid upon the road as he was waylaid by bandits. They shared a fondness for drink and smoke. He sounded enamored by her elven beauty and the artistry she employed in battle. She seemed drawn to his complete lack of similarities to elves. He gave her steep discounts on goods and she protected his caravan when she was around.

Astarion didn’t touch the sealed letters. Maybe he had some sense of propriety. They were all so old… It seemed they stopped only 50 years after she left the Dales.

Then there were two. For their E’Sum. For Astarion Ancunin, Baldur’s Gate.

This, too, was old, but not as old as some. Likely, this letter would have never reached him. The furthest it might have gotten was to Cazador, and then what jealous hellfire would his master have rained upon him for receiving a letter from a long-lost lover?

It was meant for him. That meant he could read it, no? It found him, after all these years.

Astarion snuck into Gale’s tent.

“Can I help you?” Gale grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I need you to read this,” Astarion insisted, shoving the letter at him. Gale moved away, offended as Astarion pressed the piece of parchment into his chest.

“I think you're capable of reading.”

“I can't do it.”

“Then don't read it.”

“But it's for me.”

“Then I shouldn't be reading it.”

“Dammit Gale, can you just do this for me?” Astarion hissed. “Can you stop being an emotionless pompous arse for one minute?”

“I'm not emotionless, I’m exhausted. That wasn’t exactly easy on me, either. I didn’t even tell you some of the horrible things in those journals,” Gale explained, but took the letter anyway. A little hurt he said, “Is that how you see me?”

“Gale, I need the attention now, or I'm going to start stabbing people.”

“How is that different from usual?” Gale muttered as he opened the letter. “Dear Astarion, stop being dramatic and let Gale sleep.”

“You’re aware of how much of an ass you are, yes?”

“My Star,” Gale started, ignoring him. He actually put a little emotion into it. Astarion listened intently. “Aluin says that writing letters is healing, that ordering our thoughts to communicate them helps us understand ourselves as much as it helps others understand us. I’m not as good with words as Mellia or Lumin. I guess you don't know any of these people. They are friends I've made along the way and if we meet again, I want you to meet them. They’ve helped me a lot, taught me that I deserve to be loved and helped. I don’t always believe them, but it is what it is. Do you remember Heilar saything that all the time, when you’d tell him I beat you unfairly during sword practice? I wonder if I still can. 

“I spent a long time hating you, but I always loved you. I never wished ill on you, even when I hated you the most. I always wondered what I did to make you leave me behind. I always wondered if you thought I'd follow. I wanted to, but our parents bade me stay. Then they made me stay.

What is it like, in Baldur’s Gate? I always wanted to go to Waterdeep instead.” Gale's eyes lit up suddenly and he opened his mouth to make some quip, but when he looked up, Astarion was the picture of anxiety, biting his lip, knees to his chest, fear in his eyes. 

“It took me a long time to accept responsibility for what happened. I would always say to myself that you left a mess behind, you did this to me, that it was all your fault. It was best that you left, because if you'd stayed, I don't want to imagine what you would have done. Would you take their side, or defend me tooth and nail? I couldn't bear it if you were just another person I couldn't forgive. But I wouldn’t want our family’s blood on your hands either.

“I don't know his name. I left as soon as I could. I'm sorry that I can't tell you anything about him. I would think that your parents would try to write you, but maybe they think it meant nothing to you. They try to write me, but I can't read them. I don't want to read them, but I can't destroy them.

“No matter how many friends I make, how many people I help, I will always know that I am a callous monster. Despite how rare it is, despite what it would mean for our families and our people, I didn't want to keep the thing you left behind in me. Knowing it was there filled me with a sickness that went beyond any story the Mothers told me. I was no longer myself, I was just a vessel. I found myself repulsive. I tried to find some way to be rid of it, but our mothers caught me. 

“At first they aimed to tame me with guilt and shame. They told me I was irresponsible, cowardly, a disgrace, for trying to throw away this blessing that felt to me like a curse, a punishment. There were only hard eyes and sharp words for me. I became desperate and tried my own ways of removing my curse. When they denied me that, I tried to bite through my own tongue to spare myself the pain of my burden and it the pain of having me for a mother.

“They took turns, holding me with their magic, giving me no choice but to do what they deemed right. I looked out of my eyes on a world that became hostile and full of villains, faces made of cruelty. The body that moved was not my own, but I still felt that awful feeling in my heart, felt trapped in my own skin just as much as in their power.

“I'm not sorry that I left, so why do I feel guilty? Broken? I'm not sorry for being broken. Was this soul always broken, throughout its many lives?

“I made a deal with a fey. In exchange for never bearing children again, I am cursed to burn by the emptiness of the new moon. It hurt, at first, but not as much as that year hurt. The fey thought me mad for requesting such a simple silly thing and not real power. Maybe I am. You have to be pretty mad to make a fey question your request.

“I’m sorry. I love you. I forgive you. I don't expect you to forgive me. I hope you can still love me, as unlovable as I am. 

“Ever yours- Lori”

At some point, Astarion had placed his head in Gale’s lap. So caught up in the letter, Gale didn't notice. Now that he was done, he freed up a hand to pat Astarion’s head. “Can I go back to sleep now?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Gale whispered tiredly, still stroking Astarion’s hair. “It’s going to be okay. Tomorrow is another day.”

[chiconisroc]

Was Not The Hero/the Way We Ended Up Questions and Answers Batch

1. Question: Would Anyone draw fanart for “The Way we ended up”?

Answer: I have no idea : o. It would be cool if someone did

More questions and responses:

2. Question: Here's another song I think it fits well with Belos:

Unsteady by X Ambassadors:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V0lw3qylVfY

Answer: yes, that would fit Belos well : 3

3. Question: How would Philip react to being French Kissed?

Answer: it depends, like Philip has never been kissed before so a French kiss right now would be too overwhelming for him : o. He probably would cringe, hahaha

4. Question: What would Philip think of among us?

Answer: he has no opinions since he wouldn’t enjoy playing video games : o. It’s not his thing o.o

5. Question: Would “I won’t say I’m in Love” fit Silas or Philip more.

Answer: I say it would fit Silas : o

6. Question: Would the Hexsquad hug Philip in the future?

Answer: maybe : 3. Got to wait and see ~

7. Question: In “Not What you Expected” would Philip confront the minister that abused him during childhood?

Answer: oh that is a spoiler and for sure will be revealed later if he does or not : )

8. Question: i think the lyrics from First Love/Late Spring fit Philip.

“ but i find that lately, I’ve been crying like a tall child “ ugsgas and “ please don’t say you love me “ because of the guilt and oh my god I LOVE ANGST. Philip Wittebane

Answer: yesss, I love angst toooo : )

9. Question: Did Silas Parents ever suspected he was gay?

Answer: nope, because peeps back in the day wouldn’t really think about that or not dare to : o

10. Question: Did Philip liked Silas because he reminded him of his brother?

Answer: nope : o. You will see why Philip liked Silas later in the story : 3

11. Question: Would Belos wear a dress?

Answer: it depends : o, on the style. He probably would like it more like what one of the robes he wore but not really a super feminine one

12. Question: If Philip had a nightmare about hurting Silas what would he do?

Answer: Philip would for sure feel guilty and would further add on to his belief that he is nothing but a monster and shouldn’t get close to anyone v.v

13. Question: another song that would fit Philip and Silas relationship is “Sim Under the Tree”

Answer: yesssss, ahhh, I think every bit of it fits them :3

14. Question: Has Hunter Seen Hunter x Hunter?

Answer: not yet : )

15. Question: Would Philip or Silas like “Everytime We touch”? also Would it fit their relationship?

Answer: I say Silas would for sure would love the song and fits both of them when it comes to their relationships : )

16. Question: I can't help but imagine Masha feeling bad about summing up the Wittebane backstory with "Sounds like big bro got a hot witch girlfriend, and little bro got upset." in an alternate scenario of the events of "Was Not The Hero" taking place after the Halloween Festival from Thanks To Them.

Answer: oh yah, Masha would feel bad if they said that cause that for sure is mocking him and throwing his traumas out the window

17. Question: have you seen a “Pip in time” webcomic?

Answer: i have now and it’s interesting : )

18. Question: Another song I think fits well with WNTH is Orange Blue's "Can Somebody Tell Me Who I Am":

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-mHthKfbnNE

Answer: that sound hits in the feels honestly and I agree that sound would fit the story

19. Question: Once hunter and Philip like eachother I think they'd go through a gacha life phase together and Philip would cry over glmv's and they would watch them together

Answer: I have no idea what glmv’s are : o

20. Question: Can Philip sing? Since his voice actor Mathew Rhys did musicals.

Answer: I say he can but it’s a skill he hasn’t realized he has himself : 3

21. Question: Was it the palisman or glyph tattoos that caused Philip Curse?

Answer: that you will have to wait for the story to reveal it : )

[padmeanddorme]

Rewatching the Star Wars Movies Part 1!

and now I notice the little details seeing as I am older!

Damn I hope there do be no typos in this rant I spent so much time and energy on….

So:

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away….

I watched Star Wars the Phantom Menace again- one of my favourite movies of all time! And I realised that I could notice more details than usual and reflect on the meaning of particular scenes this time around!

- Padmé’s first ever entrance proves she is all business, is a fashionista and is a powerful woman who will not let any force of evil ruin innocent people’s lives

- I am so amazed that I am able to tell the difference between Sabé and Padmé now! I really want Keira Knightly to return as Padmé. Perhaps this is far-fetched- but in the Ahsoka series?!

- Otoh Gunga- the long shots of Obi and Qui swimming after Jar Jar towards the glowing Cory is gorgeous- but I wonder- how long did the city take to build? And how did they get all the resources down there? Why are the outside materials not rusting??!

- The way Obi-wan walks with his large robe sleeves makes him look so cute and tiny

- Ric Olié is such a dedicated, skilled pilot- I love how he is like Ani’s first mentor who teaches him the terms of the cockpit

- Obi-wan and his tendency to be like “picked up another pathetic life form” is 😂

- Ani being so respectful to his mumma is so cute. Shmi is so gentle- yet she will be forthright with her opinion and stubborn when she’s needs to protect Ani- she would have been an amazing grandma- and she would have shipped Anakin and Padmé so hard! I can just imagine the flustered, embarrassed 19 or 20-year-old Ani when they head to Tatooine after Anakin’s nightmares and Shmi is sharing embarrassing childhood stories about Anakin to Padmé. And the soft smile that would etch itself on her face when she walks in on Anakin and Padmé snuggled close to each other as they stay a night at the Skywalker-Lars homestead. Yes it just so happened that there were not enough beds so Anakin and Padmé had to share one- both were so nervous yet secretly thrilled to cuddle each other as they fell asleep 😴

- That conversation at the dinner table about how Anakin wants to finish a device to detect the slaving transmitters in the back of slaves’ necks makes me wish he and Padmé lived happily ever after on Naboo. They would go on fun adventures with their many children- Luke, Leia, Mila (after Milaflower), Jinn and another baby on the way, going to the snowy world of Hoth and swimming in the lakes of Naboo. When Anidala would want their hard-earned date week every 2 months or so, they would drop the kids off for 1 week with Sabé and the handmaiden gang (or Obi, Rex and Ahsoka?) so they could have a romantic vacation on Tatooine. But at the same time Anidala were investigating the slave situation and were being updated on the progress Sabé and Tonra had made by shipping freed slaves off world.

- The fluffy beard makes Ki-Ado seem like space Santa is swear

- I just noticed how upset and guilty Padmé appears when she suggests a vote of no confidence for poor, confused Valorum- she wants to immediately aid her struggling people but also feels wrong for ruining the career of confused Valorum

- Like frick off Palpatine he’s all smiling and like “I am going for Chancellor Yipee” and Padmé does not want to hear it! She realises there is more significant issues to worry about- *cough* and a *cough* “our people are dying in labour camps”! Ahah her feminist and stubbornness is shining through like a beacon!

- How soft Padmé’s features are and how gorgeous and intricately detailed her queen outfits are enhance her beauty yet symbolise how young she truly is

- Mace’s head shines so much at night time I swear

- I love how Qui-gon brushes off Obi’s negativity all the time and knows where how to focus his attention on the present and his passiona

- I actual burst out laughing when Ani was like ‘Qui-gon, Sir, I don’t wanna be a problem…”

- The elegant yet purposeful way the handmaidens stride onto the silver ship is so beautiful

- In the scene where Nute Gunray communicates with hologram Palpatine, I only just noticed the beautiful sculptures. These sculptures prove how much the Naboo people value art and express their creativity by surrounding themselves with decorations that have meaning

- Swampy Naboo giving Endor vibes damn

- I adore the bewilderment of Ani, Jar Jar and my Jedi boys when Padmé reveals herself as queen and everyone is like “what the the frick???”

- Maul’s staring into my soul! Ghost Padmé save me from the scary boy

- The strategic mind of Padmé is so inspiring- I love my intelligent gurl. She’s like- “ we make a diversion, we will use pilots to knock out the droid ship and we have Artoo’s strategic plan saved in his data bank—-”

- The fog and creepy bird noises as the Gungans march out onto the fields of Naboo builds some awesome suspense

- The droid army tanks moving sound like airplanes damn

- The handmaidens in battle action and being able to see their intricate hair buns is pretty sweet- I believe Eirtaé is the only blond handmaiden!

- Rest in peace that poor pilot who immediately crashed in the grassy Naboo fields

- ooh! I love how one of the Bravo pilots was a woman! Look at Naboo letting all genders be empowered, go my favourite planet!

- I love them oversized, glowing blueberries Jar Jar is still learning to throw

- Oh my Force! Sith are such dramatic turds I swear 😂 Darth Maul standing there menacingly, slowly lifting his eyes to death glare Obi and Qui-gon, alongside the music is killing me

- Maul flashing his teethies like a dog is hilarious 😆

- Maybe Jar Jar do be a sith… I mean, when his foot got tangled in the wiring of a battle droid and as he clumsily tried to escape the wire snaking around him- he managed to shoot many droids…

- Artoo is like man why the hell I gotta babysit this blond beach boy when I could be destroying the space station in like 2 minutes

- Qui-gon being stabbed brought me on the verge of tears. But I could not help but notice that, in the close up after he was stabbed so cruelly, his eyes sparkled a really deep blue- I never noticed he had sky blue eyes until then damn

-I love how prepared Padmé is with blasters resting in her secret throne compartment

- It was like a Star exploding seeing the Trade Federarion ship go BOOM

- The love in Qui-gon’s eyes as he strokes Obi’s cheek- I MISS HiM YOUR HONOUR

- SASSY PANAKA- “I think you can kiss your Trade franchise goodbye.” gIVes ME LiFE

- My favourite handmaiden outfit is the golden hooded robe after the end of the Invasion of Naboo

- Yoda is so scary when he frustrated DAMN! Agree with you the COUNCIL DOES NOT!!!

- In the funeral scene, I never noticed George Lucas’s little sneaky camera close up. After Mace exclaims- “but which was destroyed- the master or apprentice?” It zooms in on Palpatine’s face and fuzzes out everyone else- Foreshadowing is impeccabile here! Never noticed it when I was younger!

- Mwhaah- I noticed in a scene a few seconds before the movie ends that there was a handmaiden standing behind Obi in a beautiful, silverish, grey cloak. At first I was like- “hey that looks like Sabé!” I then had to skip back to the scene once the credits started rolling- and I took a picture of the face! I think I am right- the face seems to boast the features of Keira Knightly! Take a look for yourself:

Now enjoy some of my favourite moments and some aesthetic gifs from this amazing, underrated, family- feel good movie:

We will begin with incredibly blond and happy Anakin- poor Ani deserved to realise that little Luke, Leia, Jinn, Mila and his other kids looked like mini versions of him and Padmé….

So if you have made it to the end of my very long post….thank you!

Feel free to chat to me in the comments about anything Star Wars and positivity related.

May the force be with us all 🌌💖

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Snippet Monday -- Meddling Mar

Part One, Parts Two and Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Mar awoke to the sound of arguing.

He sat up, squinting and rubbing his eyes against the flood of sunlight from the small window high above his bed.

"I'm not drinking your mystery medicine."

That was Jak! Mar would know his voice anywhere!

"Oh yes you are. You are too dehydrated to get a choice. You will drink the lily water or I will pour it down your throat!"

Oh. That was Gawyn, the cranky monk who made Mar take the sleepy medicine. Mar did not like Gawyn. The little boy's ears pricked up when he heard a low, menacing growl.

"Don't touch me."

Concerned, Mar kicked off the sheet and wriggled down from the bed. Jak was upset enough to use his Dark Voice. Mar remembered that voice. It meant his big brother needed him.

Mar flung back the curtain beside his bed, revealing Gawyn standing beside the bedframe built into the wall. He was glaring at Jak, who sat in the bed and glared right back.

With a cry, Mar shoved past the monk and scrambled up onto Jak’s bed. He flung his arms around the older boy's neck, so relieved to see him that he didn't even see Daxter asleep on Jak’s pillow until he almost fell on him. Jak went rigid, and for a moment, Mar was afraid he'd scared or angered him. But then his brother reached up and hugged him back, holding him so tightly to his chest that Mar started to feel squished.

"Ma- Kid!" Jak gasped and pushed Mar away to hold him at arms length, scanning him for injuries. "You're okay!"

The little boy's hair was far neater than it had been the last time they'd seen each other, combed up into fluffy twist-outs and trimmed at the temples. Jak hoped they hadn’t done it while Mar was asleep, like they'd done with his facial hair. The monks -- or the doctors, Jak had no idea -- appeared to have either changed Mar's clothes or brought him clean ones: his filthy green tunic had been replaced with some kind of long, loose, shirt or robe that fell to his knees. Given where they'd been, Jak was surprised that it was long-sleeved. It looked lightweight, at least.

"What happened to your tunic?" Jak asked.

"Dunno. I think they threw it away when I took a bath." Mar shrugged. "What happened to yours?"

Jak glanced down at his own arms -- bare, save for several bandages around his elbow and covering some of his old scars -- and just as quickly glanced away.

"I'm...not sure. I don't remember this happening."

Mar nestled closer again. He didn't want Jak to think he was a baby, but he was just so relieved to still have both his brothers. Jak must have been relieved too, because he didn't even tell him to give him his personal space. He kept an arm around Mar's shoulders and just breathed, slow and deep.

"Who combed your hair?" Jak asked after a moment.

He knew darned well Mar hadn't done it himself. If there was one constant between their paradoxical childhood, it was that they both hated the feel of a comb against their scalps.

"The snitch did it."

"The...the what."

Jak squinted at him.

"What snitch?"

Mar scowled. "He's the guy that guards the door. Before you came, I tried to leave to find you. But the snitch always finds me and brings me back to tell the monks!"

Jak looked at him blankly.

"Um..."

"He's so weird!" Mar complained, "He made me go to bed while the sun was still up! But then he brought a board game for me and Daxter, and fixed my hair! But he tells on me to the monks!"

The little boy sulked.

"Just make up your mind already! Quit playin' "good grownup, bad grownup", right?"

Jak shifted to eye the sleeping ottsel beside him. Something hard and sharp about his demeanor faded away for a moment, leaving behind a teenage boy who was all too vulnerable. A long breath puffed out his cheeks.

"Is...is Dax okay?"

Unwilling to show weakness in front of the weirdo threatening him with medication, Jak signed the question to Mar.

Immediately, Mar nodded.

"Yeah, he's okay. He doesn't even get tired easy like me. So unfair."

Gawyn cleared his throat sharply. "Yes yes, this reunion is very touching and all, but you still have to drink your medicine."

He pointed meaningfully at the cup on the table.

"Use your brain, boy. Would we really go to all this trouble if we wanted you dead?"

He faltered somewhat when Jak met his eyes and answered, "There are some things that are worse than death."

This was starting to feel like it was above his paygrade.

This boy wasn't one of the people of the Wastelands. He didn't recognize a senior monk of the Golden Order of the Precursors, obviously. But something about his eyes...

They had seen too much in his short life.

Those eyes made Gawyn nervous, and he couldn’t even pinpoint why.

"It's just green eco and Desert Lily." Gawyn puffed out his chest and did his best to recover his nerve. "You know what Desert Lily is, don't you?"

Mar nudged Jak with a worried look.

"Daxter will know. Daxter knew what they were giving me before."

To the consternation of the monk, the two boys proceeded to shake the mouthy orange rodent-thing awake. It blinked at them in a daze for a couple seconds before its ears shot upright.

"Jak! You're awake!" Daxter gasped.

With a soft grin, Jak held out his hand for a fist bump.

"Hey Dax."

Mar reluctantly scooted to one side to let Daxter climb up to Jak’s shoulder. Almost immediately the little boy glued himself to his brother's side again.

"Daxter, they wanna give Jak medicine!" he said, more than a little tattle-tale in his choice of signs.

Daxter raised a furry brow. "Is it that mashed up green eco plant in water?"

"Desert Lily," Gawyn groused, "It's called Desert Lily."

Jak relaxed his shoulders slightly. "Is it drugged?" he asked Daxter quietly.

Instantly, Daxter understood Jak’s fear. After the prison, after having substances forced into him without pity or explanation, he had a right to be wary. Drinking something unidentified was a good way to black out and wake up on an operating table.

"No, it's not drugged, but uh...you better check how well they filtered the leaf juice if you don't want your digestive system to be very very mad at you."

"The bathroom's by the other end of the room," Mar added, pointing helpfully.

Jak made a face. "That's...good to know, I guess..."

Gawyn resisted the urge to groan.

"It's double filtered. The idea is to re-hydrate you, not de-hydrate you."

He waited a moment, but Jak continued to stare him down.

"You're...not going to drink it until I leave, are you?" he sighed.

"Pretty much."

This time, the monk did groan.

"Save us from the stubbornness of teenagers!" he grumbled, but he reluctantly turned his back.

"Just so you know, you have to drink that again tonight. And twice a day for the next two days."

Jak raised his brows and signed to Mar and Daxter, "They won't know if I just pour it out, right?"

"Don't count on it," Mar cautioned. "The Snitch is everywhere. If he sees, the monks will know."

"That's because you have the subtlety of a stampeding yakkow, kid," Daxter interrupted, punctuating his signs with a bored expression.

"But considering you're Jak’s mini-me, that doesn't bode well for his subtlety either."

Jak pushed Daxter off his shoulder.

[arctic-shard]

Outer Child, chapter 17

( And wrapping up this story. I'll put it on Ao3 eventually, after I give it a final once-over. Thanks for coming along on this journey of starting a story with no idea of the ending and taking a silly trope and playing it serious. )

Outer Child, chapter 17

Warnings: none

Words: 2000~

-----

The Doctor had a haggard look to him when Victoria was delivered to his cell. He advanced on her with fevered eyes and long strides that would have terrified anyone who saw threat and not worry. Victoria didn't have time to do anything but reach out to him before he was upon her. When he bent down, Victoria put her arms around his neck, but he straightened up, one arm under her thighs, the other holding her head to cradle her against his neck. "Dr Combs explained some things to me," he rasped. "He said you had been hurt, and that he would permit you to come to me after he was certain you took no serious harm -"

He'd probably been frantic and pacing the whole time. How long had she been out? She nuzzled against his collar. "Shh. Shh, dear Doctor. My dear Doctor. I'm here. I'm okay. Take me to bed and hold me."

The Doctor set Victoria gently on his cot, and paused to take off her shoes. He started to reach for his doctor's bag to retrieve the privacy curtains but Victoria tugged on his robe. "I don't care. Just hold me."

He didn't argue, just as eager to be in her arms. He tucked her head under his beak and tangled his long arms and legs around her. Once secured, the Doctor let out a long sigh, and Victoria felt his body relax.

His fingers toyed with her hair. "What happened, my heart?"

"Can you wait for an explanation?" Victoria asked. "I need this for a little while. I need to accept that this is real."

"D'accord. Shall I sing to you?"

"Please, Doctor."

The familiar raspy tenor filled her ears and lulled her heart. The Doctor rubbed gentle circles on her back and neck as he sang. Victoria's hands didn't know what to do, she just flexed her fingers against his hide, needing contact. Not sexual, not yet, not after two months of looking after his toddler-self. It would be a while before she could think of him sexually again. Now she just wanted to hold him, to remember the feel of his lanky body, wiry muscles, and long limbs, of being surrounded by him.

After a while, Victoria finally calmed enough to speak. "What do you remember?"

"Little is clear to me," the Doctor admitted. "You were there, and Dr Combs, and our friend. Our friend did not seem odd to me. The rest of you were big and strange. Everything was so big and bright and strange. I did not remember who you were or our relationship, but I knew you would keep me safe. And you did." He paused. "There were a lot of snacks."

Victoria laughed against his collar. "Of course you remember the food. Combs and Usher spoiled you."

She briefly filled him in on the previous two months. The Doctor snuggled her closer. "My dear. You went through so much for us. You could have given up."

"Never," Victoria promised. "Even if I could have accepted the change, it wasn't fair to you. You've already lost enough memories - to lose all of them was too unfair."

"As it was unfair to you to be cast as caretaker to your own spouses, even if you insisted." His beak ruffled her hair. "I am sorry we caused you so much trouble."

"You were slightly less trouble than usual. The Foundation is going to be so upset that it can't distract you with muffins anymore," said Victoria. Her fingers brushed against his shoulder-cape nervously. "Was I an okay caretaker?"

The Doctor hummed softly. "I recall contentment. You always look after me very well. I wish I could remember details. I do not have any memories of my first childhood, it might have been nice to better recall my second."

"Most people don't have much in the way of memories from when they were that young," said Victoria. "My brother was born when I was three and I don't remember it. You'd think that was a pretty big deal."

"Yes, but for you that was forty years ago. For me it has been only hours. I should remember," said the Doctor.

"The anomalous object messed with your memories to make you think you were a child. I'm not surprised that the reverse process messed with you again." She breathed him in, that leather-and-chemical smell that she used to find unpleasant. "My Doctor. My husband. I missed you. I missed this."

"Shh. I am here now. I will not willingly leave you. I will look after you. It is safe to rest."

He sang again. Victoria eventually fell asleep, safe and wrapped up in the Doctor.

---

Victoria was in the dream-void again, but was immediately reassured when she looked down and found herself wearing black silk pyjamas. She sighed. "Amica."

A deep voice in the dark: "Mm, I think that name belongs to my transformed self. I will be friend and consort again."

"I missed you, friend."

"You're late, love," 035 whispered behind her, slipping its arms around her waist. Only two arms - it was in its humanoid form, wearing similar pyjamas. "But I suppose I'll forgive you after what you've been through. And that researcher of yours seems to know it, too. I know you're with our Doctor."

"It would only be better if you were there," said Victoria.

It held her for a few moments, humming quietly and swaying a bit, not a dance so much as just enjoying the feel of her in its arms. All it seemed to want was closeness, either because it knew that was all Victoria was up for, or because it didn't want anything more. It was hard to know - 035's libido was as chaotic as its moods.

The porcelain nose nudged her ear. "Not that chaotic, love. When you're not in the mood, I can't get in the mood. I want emotion first and foremost, mia cara."

Then 035 flopped dramatically back on a fainting couch that wasn't there a moment ago, pulling Victoria with it. It sprawled out, drawing her back against its chest and wrapped its arms around her. "Ugh, they've got me in solitary again until they figure out what happened with me and Dolores so they can prevent it from happening again. At least I can visit you in dreams. And keep Odious out of them," it finished grimly. "I can't believe you would willingly return to Alagadda after what happened, and on Odious' invitation."

"It was the only chance I had left to restore you and the Doctor."

It rubbed its cheek against her hair. "My Victoria. You need us that badly."

"I do," Victoria admitted. "Sometimes I hate how much I need you. My life was tolerable until you and the Doctor showed me that it could be good."

"We only give you what you deserve," murmured 035. "And with our give-and-take, after these last months I am deep in your debt."

"How much do you remember?" asked Victoria.

035 chuckled. "My memory is perfect - well, apparently unless it's being suppressed by a surprisingly powerful magical transformation. All the snacks and cuddles and playtime." Its chuckle turned wicked. "And now I have a better handle on dear Myrna's mind. She'd been so careful to stay out of my range, until I was just too cute to stay away from."

"She was kind to you."

"Only because she thought I was harmless." It nuzzled her hair and its voice dropped to a purr: "I remember that you told me you would always love me."

"I was -" I was reassuring a child. But she wasn't, not entirely. She was telling Amica that she wasn't going to abandon it just because she found the situation difficult, but she was also telling 035 that she would love it, regardless of form, regardless of their changed relationship. "I do love you."

035 hummed quietly, pleased. Victoria moved to lie on her stomach, arms folded on 035's chest, and looked down into the comedic mask. "You had never been a child. You're the only Alagaddan who has ever been a child," said Victoria. "What was it like?"

"It was very strange," said 035, aspect flickering to tragic, tone serious. "I knew that I was the Black Lord, but I didn't know what that meant. I was a special, important little princess and I liked the colour black. I had a vague idea of who my King was, and the other lords and the Ambassador, but not much more than 'King good, Ambassador bad.' I vaguely knew that the Doctor was my friend. I didn't remember you. I suppose I hadn't known you long enough."

It drummed its fingers on Victoria's back. "Everything seemed new. I don't know if it was because my memories were suppressed, or if I had the mind of a child. Maybe my memories had to be suppressed so I could think like a child. But even when I was first created and everything really was new to me, it didn't feel the same way."

"Who is Dolores?" asked Victoria.

"I don't know," said 035 slowly. "I met her during a breach. I took a walk in an area I was unfamiliar with, found an elevator, and went down. When I try to think of her, all I think is 'she was sad and boring.' Like someone messed with my memories so I wouldn't wonder about her and go back. And I wasn't in her memories at all. But if the Foundation could change my memories like that so I would stay away from her, why haven't they done more to me?"

"Maybe Dolores did it. You said she was powerful."

"No. She's receive-only."

"You could have taken over the world," said Victoria. She shifted her weight to one arm so she could reach up and stroke 035's hair. "I can't say I want you to, but you could have taken us from the Site, torn down the Veil, and then made it so I can touch you."

"I suppose I'm impulsive. Maybe I argued too well to save the Earth from Alagadda that on some level I permitted it to be saved from myself," 035 mused. "Well. I'm not the end, I'm the beginning of the end, and perhaps it isn't time for the final act."

"Maybe you're just not cut out for godhood."

035's aspect returned to comedy. "Nonsense. I proved my godliness by making you fuckable. Any Greek god would have done the same."

"Ugh, you are not sexy to me right now," Victoria complained. "You were a goddamn baby shoving muffins in your face for two months. That's going to take some time to get over."

035 laughed. "I don't understand you - I'm me again, aren't I? - but I suppose there's nothing to be done for it." It turned its head suddenly, looking out into the void, but its expression remained smiling. "Oh, we have company," it said, lifting a hand. "Welcome, dear Doctor."

The Doctor appeared, hands behind his back. "With all the strangeness that happened I found myself unable to rest, even with Victoria beside me, so I used a sleeping potion."

The fainting couch retained its general shape but now had more width. 035 patted the empty space. The Doctor settled in beside it, then 035 rolled towards it, causing Victoria to fall into the space between them. Long arms reached over her, embracing each other with her pressed between, long legs draped over hers. Warm leather on one side, cool silk-clad chitin on the other. 035 nuzzled her ear. "You asked me to take you home," it murmured. "Here we are."

[honor-among-thieves]

32 and 37 for Calcifer, 3 and 15 for Theo, and 21 and 38 for Connor? 👀👀

I had to readmore this because it became long and I don't want to irritate the people following me for shitposts.

fdlksjklajfdsk HELLS YEAH Calcifur ask, this is literally my favorite Blorbo

Calcifur

32. What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like?

He likes to read plays, but he was never much of a voracious reader outside of that. Fiction vs. non-fiction did not matter to him, though in a way plays are always a little fictional; historical plays were common in his culture though.

Both ostentatious and slutty. He ended the game in Glammerweave, which I always imagined as a hanfu style that resembled ever-shifting ocean waves. Calcifur was established as a silk-robe sleepwear type friend. Yes, he wears make-up, mostly red or gold under the eye, eyeliner, whatever he would need to cover blemishes on his non-standard issue tiefling hues; he was an actor though, so he's good with makeup. He was growing his hair out at the end of the campaign but it was a nice, coiffed undercut.

37. Do they like to read? Are they a fast or slow reader? Do they like poetry? Fictional or non fiction?

Theodosius

3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory?

Cooking was not a part of his temple duties and he likely has only basic skills; meals were humble. He knows enough to make passable "poor folk" food, but nothing overly impressive. His skills were mostly Temple related and in medicine specifically.

Theo had an...interesting childhood. He doesn't remember much of it, but he was raised in the Temple of Sarenrae and taught everything he would need to know as one of her devout (I assume it was a monk-like situation for him). Unlike other priests-in-training, he was restricted in a lot of ways he will never understand, due to his nature as a divine construct (his temple created him and he is their property), like not being able to really bond with people outside the temple the way he can now. He misses the people he grew up with though, misses his temple, regardless of some of the questionable day-to-day treatment. He is left to trust in Sarenrae's divine plan for them all in the knowledge that he persists while his creators are long-gone.

15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?

Connor

21. Do they have a temper? Are they patient? What are they like when they do lose their temper?

He mostly doesn't have the energy to get into fights with people in...interpersonal situations and ghosts when he's uncomfortable, HOWEVER, he doesn't like being pushed around and he has a quiet, intense anger when he does get stirred up. Also this is a guy who has decided to be a supervillain and do punching, as the fiction demands, so I would say having a bit of a temper comes with the territory at times.

38. What do they admire in others? What talents do they wish they had?

Confidence. Other people being able to move through life without second-guessing themselves, without being trapped in their own minds. He wishes he could be as laissez-faire as Charge, maybe mimics it in his Apotheosis persona. Does not want to acknowledge that or have anyone else do so either and would probably be upset if he saw it in the mirror.

[theonewithallthefixations]

Ah, I see. That explains a bit. Thank you for clarifying.

Let's start out with a bit of education. The first thing you learn about making arguments is to know your audience. For example, if you were arguing with a mechanic, you wouldn't reference the same literature you would if you were arguing with an English major, just like if you were arguing with an English major, you wouldn't use all your knowledge on machines to explain something. And you're probably not going to want to use the phrase "at some point in your adulthood" to a seventeen year old. If you had looked at my bio, you would know my age, and know that I'm not, in very fact, a "grown up," and I still have my entire life ahead of me to make choices.

That was also posted exactly two months and eleven days ago, so my views aren't going to all be completely the same, as well as my abilities as a writer. If I could reword some things, I would.

As of that post, I am saying I have biases about people that are changing my opinion on art, and that is still my opinion. I am not claiming to know everything, nor am I claiming that JK is completely bad. What I am saying here is popular opinions have shaped my opinion on literature. When I say "she," I am talking about the idea that is portrayed in the media, rather than the actual person, because as you previously mentioned, I do not know her. I am choosing to see the glass as half full rather than half empty. I am choosing to leave my biases behind and love what I have always loved. That is my claim. I don't want to let what people say about JK to shape my opinion on my childhood, on the joy I felt reading the books and watching the movies, and writing that truly did help. I am proud to announce that I love Harry Potter again, not as something I will reread and analyse, because I am far above that reading level and reading the books I loved as a child frustrates me because it is never exactly how I remember it, but as a comfort book. As something I can hold and remember my childhood. As something I can think about. I have given myself permission to take out my wand, my robe, to put them on and think. To remember when I was a kid going to Universal to celebrate my eleventh birthday, to remember going to school pretending that I went to Hogwarts for a month, and getting half my class to join me.

Going back to knowing your audience, I did do my research on mine, and I have learned a lot of things. One of which being that they use the phrase "Karen" as an insult to everyone and evidently don't know what it means. Allow me to enlighten you. "An angry, entitled, sometimes racist white woman" is the best definition I could find, from dictionary.com. Let's go through the checklist here. Angry, I am not. In fact, my goal here was to let go of my anger. Entitled, no, unless you are saying I am entitled to my opinion, which I am, and you must agree with because your blog is explicitly stated to be "a place for freedom." Sometimes racist, no. White woman, yes, I agree with you, I am a white woman.

Looking through your "TERF isn't a real thing" argument is very interesting. In your own words, "You do know there are words in the dictionary (and whole books) about things that are not real, right? Like... you know santa doesn't exist? Nor do leprechauns?" The idea of "Karen" was created because people wanted a meme, and it was taken overboard and way out of context. But, assuming the word is a "real thing," let's look at you. Angry, yes. Your tone is very upset in your response, and the fact that you are just using the word Karen to try to insult me shows that you are too upset to actually argue, as when you are upset, your brain's ability to process decreases significantly according to MentalHelp.net. Entitled, yes. You seem to believe you are entitled to my opinion, as you are not telling me that there are different views, but that I am objectively incorrect, which is objectively incorrect considering it is an opinion. Sometimes racist, I can't tell from the information I have. I hope not, as that is extremely wrong and it saddens me that anyone objectifies anyone by where they are from or what they look like. Unfortunately, I do know it is a thing, and that if you are prone to judging people based on their sexual orientation, which you seem to be, it is likely to be a thing. I have no objective proof here, so I will say maybe. And as for white woman, I can't say either. You seem to be a woman, as you seem to have very strong views on gender and people have called you "girl" without argument, and your blog is also a place for woman's rights. Out of the two of us, though, you seem to fit the mold better. It also says on dictionary.com that the phrase "Karen" is "used in memes and on social media when complaining about an obnoxious, ignorant, difficult, offensive woman or the stereotype of such a woman. " Obnoxious, yes, because you apparently think that Karen is a viable insult to use, and you use it quite often. In fact, that seems to be your go-to phrase. Ignorant, yes, because you read my post to be anti JK Rowling when in fact, it was an attempt to let go of those views. You can argue, and I would agree with you, that I am ignorant as well, because I had those negative views in the first place, as well as the fact that I asked for clarification if you were using an apostrophe, because it seems rather obvious that you weren't. I really do appreciate your clarification, by the way. Difficult, again yes, because rather then actually argue for many of your "arguments," you choose to throw insults back and forth like third graders on the playground. Offensive, yes, because even if your insults aren't successful in their goal of hurting your target, they are sent with the intention of offending.

Another thing that bothers me is your saying that your blog is a place for freedom, but you don't want to give people that freedom, you only want to give the people who you want to have freedom that privilege. Your "lgb drop the t" tag not just implies but explicitly says you do not believe trans people should have the right to let their true selves show, no matter how "true" you may think they are. They are as free to portray who they really are as you are to express your beliefs on JK, or as Harry is to protect people using the patronus spell in the Muggle world, or Hagrid is to stay on the Hogwarts campus.

False information is one of the most prevalent things; always has been, always will be. The thing is, there will always be an "acceptable view" and an "unacceptable view," and that will never change. And every single person will have an opinion cocktail, and it is very hard to look at somebody else and think "Hey, look at that! Well, they can have their thoughts, I'll have mine, and we'll all get along." That is how bias and misinformation started, and the cycle will continue until people are willing to just look at other people and say "that's fine, I'll let them think what they want." Until we all learn to be able to do that, the world will stay as it is-- judgmental and negative.

I do really like your mention of Harry and the tabloids, I never thought of it like that and it is very interesting how her writing mirrors the real world and her. Thank you for pointing that out, that is something to think about. My obsession with symbolism has been fuled!

Here’s what I think. I think that Harry Potter is a great thing. I think that it used to bring me great joy, and sometimes, it still does. Yeah, there’s some faults with it, but there’s some faults with everything. Name for me one perfect piece of art. You can’t, can you? Cause perfection is relative and—

That’s beside the point. My point here is, I have no reason to dislike Harry Potter. It’s great. He’s great. The only reason I am disliking it right now is because J. K. Rowling is rude.

What I’m saying is that this lady created a thing that helped me through hard times, has make me happy, has connected me with my brother and my cousin, and she took it and dragged it through the dirt. She managed to take my childhood and make me look at it and go “ew.”

She did great things. Terrible things, yes, but great.

[books-and-catears]

Hi darling, I'm not sure if your request are open at the moment bc your bio says no but your post says yes so if they're closed please ignore this.

But if they're open, can I request the brothers and side characters reaction to Solomon being MC's long lost grandpa??? who died on a war something idk

Like when they arrive to the devildom they take one look at Sol and are like 'I know u from somewhere, just don't remember from where...' and after a couple months or so they go to visit their family in the human realm and they send a message to everyone like 'I know where I've seen Solomon before 😐😐😐' along with an old photo of the wedding between their grandma and Solomon, turns out he is, indeed, their Grandfather who left one day and never came back

WHAT'S WITH ALL THESE HILARIOUS ASKS!!?? Oh my god 😂😂😂 Y'all are precious I love you so much!

Solomon about to be the dude who left to get milk and never returned AHAHHAHAA PLS

Everyone told you Solomon was shady in one way or another. But you sensed something different. The moment your eyes fell on his face - it was like it unlocked a childhood memory stowed away.

"I know you from somewhere..." You blurted out when he introduced himself.

"Perhaps we've met in human realm? I do travel a lot." He had simply said.

You took a picture of him with you when you returned home. Maybe your family could help refresh your memory. And they sure did.

That night everyone you knew in Devildom received a picture along with your text : "I know where I've seen Solomon before. These are my grandparents when they were young."

And attached was an picture of Solomon and a graceful young lady smiling at the camera.

"This is my grandpa who supposedly died at war and never came back home. -_-".

Lucifer almost chokes on his coffee as he reads your message. He disguises his laugh into a cough and shakes his head. He doesn't laugh but cannot help the snide smile on his face when he sees Solomon next time.

Mammon falls off the couch laughing. He remembers when you jokingly called him 'gramps' one time. Who knew that would come true? Addresses Solomon as MC Senior from then onwards.

Levi lets out a wild laugh and keeps repeating this story to his online friends. He was with Mammon when they got the text. Rants about how this is the plot of "My Love Rival Turned Out to Be the Grandpa of my Crush!"

Satan lets out an audible "Pffft-" as he gets the text. He gets genuinely curious about Solomon and starts interrogating him about anything and everything he did in his life: Why did he leave? Where was he all that time? Is he proud that his grandchild got his powers too? What do you mean Satans's being invasive?

Asmo cackles in front of the mirror as he reads your text and stares at the picture you sent him. Oh my Diavolo, is that really Solomon?! What is he wearing?! He really never had any sense of fashion did he?! Just wearing suspicious wizardy robes?! He should learn from his grandchild!

Beel just stares suprised. Solomon and you don't look very alike from a distance, but then he and Belphie didn't either. Gets low-key upset at the wizard for abandoning family and making up a lie about it.

Belphie just snickers sleepily. Looks like there's one less person he has to fight against for your attention. Snickers some more when you call him 'old man'. Now he calls him the same thing, even though Belphie is several millenia older.

Diavolo was highly suprised and amused. How wonderful! Two humans from the same family! Humans like being close to family isn't it? That too when it's long lost family!?

Barbatos just wears an all knowing smile as he talks to Diavolo. Of course, he knew. He knew about Solomon's life more than anyone else. He cheekily smiles at Solomon and asks about his grandchild whenever he gets the chance.

Simeon and Luke have too much with this whenever you came over to visit the Purgatory Hall later. Simeon insists you invite Solomon over for Thanksgiving and Christmas, your family after all? Luke also accidentally calls Solomon Grampa once in a while.

[boldlyvoid]

Million Dollar Man | chapter two

18+

summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.

Content warnings: sugar daddy!spencer, age gaps (14 years), daddy kink, blow jobs, kissing, drinking mention, lowkey perv!Spencer, cum play, praise, oral (female receiving), grinding, love confessions, arrangements, Spencers anxiety, (more to add)

word count: 3.4K

a/n: updates on Wednesdays and saturdays at 2 pm est

Chapter Two | Masterlist

She sat on the subway with an anxious pit in her stomach and her purse held close to her chest. Her laptop in her bag, she didn’t want to lose it on her way to the most important meeting of her whole life.

Her story was becoming a book, she was almost done the final draft, they were making touch-ups to the cover and picking the type of paper today.

Her dreams were coming true within the next month, soon she’d have a physical copy of her book, her pre-sales were showing that she’d be on the bestseller list, and her name was finally going to be on the cover of this one.

She sighed and reached for her necklace, holding it between her fingers as she took a few deep breaths. She was doing so much better today than she was last year and it was all because of Spencer, he was the best thing to happen to her. To think she complimented his sweater vest and now he’s the only person in her life she can count on.

All she can think about is him for the rest of her journey, through 4 more stops she keeps her eyes closed as she thinks of all his little facts and his cute laugh. She smiles to herself and the anxiety slips away, she loves him and she knows that for sure, but she just doesn’t know how she loves him.

She’s never had a sibling, her best friends are all women, her previous boyfriends were all shit and her other sugar daddies were never this wonderful, and her parents are lesbians… she doesn’t know what her feelings really are for Spencer, mainly because she’s never known any other men to compare him to.

But she does know the exact moment she realized she fell for him.

He booked a hotel room in DC after a local case, asking her to meet him in there at 10 pm. She was waiting in the bathtub when he arrived, bubbles galore, her hair up and arms open, “welcome home, honey.”

He laughs, “you want me to get in there with you?”

She just nods, “let me take care of you, daddy?”

He takes off his blazer, pulls his tie off and starts to unbutton his shirt. She watches patiently as he gets undressed, and it’s not sexual to her. He’s her person, her best friend, the only human being she would ever share a moment like this with and that’s when it hits her.

She doesn’t accept it just yet.

It’s not until he’s lying on her chest, between her legs, cheek resting on her boobs as she runs a sponge over his back while he gives her a little run down on his terrible week. His co-worker almost died, his mom is stressing him out, the only good thing he has left is her and she knows that.

“And then I get to my moms facility and she’s had a really good day, she knows me and she knows all of my childhood again and she’s all right there in front of me and yet she’s so far away. I’m never going to get all the time I want with her and it’s really hard to accept.”

He shares things with her that he doesn’t even tell his therapist. Because his therapist doesn’t hold him like a child against her chest and tell him he’s okay when he get’s upset.

Y/N loves him, so she kisses his forehead, “I’m so sorry, I have 2 moms if you’d like to have one?”

“It’s okay, I would love to meet them sometime though,” he wraps his arms around her waist a little tighter under the water. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Did I mention my leg is 44 inches from hip to toe?” She asks in the middle of the silence, quoting pretty woman, knowing he hasn’t seen that far into the movie yet. “So basically we’re talking about 88 inches of therapy for the bargain price of $800 dollars a week.”

Her legs wrap around him and their naked bodies are closer than they’ve ever been and yet it’s completely platonic, “I’d spend a million dollars on you if it always meant feeling this good after.”

She runs her cheek along his wet hair as he snuggles into her neck, “mmm, I like the sound of that,” she teased. “My million dollar man.”

Her stop rolls around and she pulls herself out of her day dreams to get off the train and head to her meeting. She smiles as she walks through the station, up the stairs and onto the busy downtown streets when she gets a text with Spencers special chime. She opens it when she gets to where she’s going, safely inside and in the waiting room.

It makes her laugh in the waiting room. People look at her but she doesn’t care, he’s so special to her she feels butterflies in her stomach even when he’s not around.

“Y/N!” She hears her name being called by her editor, he’s over ecstatic as he comes running out to get her. “Come, come we have so many choices to make!” He jumps up and down as he holds her arm, like a child in a candy store.

“Andy, chill man,” she laughs at him and plays it cool, “It’s just the cover being finalized.”

“It’s our baby!” He teases back, pushing his glasses up and tugging her behind the glass doors of the office.

She’s surrounded by people and paper and huge versions of her book cover. She has a sharpie as she fixed mistakes and jots down final ideas. “And I wan’t Phil to look more human and less like data from Star Trek?”

“But Dorothy looks okay?” The artist asks, nervously and Y/N can tell.

“She looks beautiful! You really brought her justice,” she smiles, “really she looks the same in my head! It’s just Phil and I’m sure it’s tough getting a drawing to look like a robotic human, let alone human.”

“I have some ideas?” She opens up more, taking her iPad out and sliding it across the table, “I wanted to give him more of a Sophia feel? His face is silicone but his joints and everything are more like an Elon Musk crash dummy.”

“That’s perfect!” She’s shocked, “why didn’t that go in the first draft?”

“I was worried it was too much,” she’s a little older than Y/N, and yet her anxiety is that of a teenage girl. “I’m going to get working on the final, do you want some emailed versions tonight?”

“Yes please,” she smiles.

“So we’re done?” Andy asks, “we’ve made all our final calls?”

“I believe we have,” Y/N closes her laptop and takes her phone out, taking a photo of the final rough sketch of her book cover on the table to send to Spencer before he comes to pick her up. She can’t wait to see him now.

—

They’re sitting side by side in matching spa robes, he’s getting a pedicure while she gets her nails done. Leaning back in her chair with a face mask and cucumbers on her eyes, she’s never felt more relaxed in her life. And just in time too, her back was killing her from writing, her knuckles hurt and she just needed a break.

Spencer did too, he was genuinely not having a good time at work anymore, every case made him spiral and he always looked to Y/N on days like that. They met more than once a week now, she got $800 every Friday and she didn’t even really need it anymore. He was coving for so much of her bills and lively hood that her savings account was growing and growing because of him.

For the first time in her life she thought she would be okay if a man left her. As terrible as it was, as much as her moms tried to raise her differently, she fell down the daddy issues rabbit hole and she’s never going to find her way out— however, luckily for her, Spencer is down here too, and he brought a flashlight.

He understands her, more than anyone else on earth. He knows all her secrets, every crush and bad grade and snide remark she’s ever kept to herself. He didn’t judge her, he could actually listen to her issues and tell her why she had them. He gave better advice than a therapist and he was able to get information for her if he didn’t know the answer to what she was going through.

He’s absolutely everything to her and yet he’s 14 years older than her, he’s still traumatized beyond belief, he’s sad and ashamed and recovering… but he’s the best man in the whole world and she wishes he could see that. If he just looked at himself from her eyes, if he felt how she did in her soul when they were together, he’d love himself.

They’re too relaxed to drive home, and Spencer knew that would happen beforehand, bringing her a change of clothes (lingerie) and that robe me mentioned. He books a hotel above the spa and takes her to it. Arms linked as they enter the suite, she’s amazed to find more than one gift bag on the bed.

“How many gifts is this now?”

“We’re at 5 out of 24.”

She laughs as she wraps her arms around him in a thank you hug, “this is what you consider 4 gifts? Spencer there are like 8 things on the bed, let alone the massage and manicure?”

“If you think this is too much I guess you’re going to get really mad next week,” he teases as she looks up at him with a surprised look on her face.

“Spencer, I am so busy next week, I cannot be galavanting around with my sugar daddy,” she tries to act like she doesn’t want to go on an adventure with him again.

The last trip they took was the best week of her life. They went to all the historical sites in the UK that she and Spencer had talked about. Mainly old churches and castles, strange poets graves, random art and most importantly; stone henge. It was a trip of a lifetime and he took it with her.

“I watched the rest of Pretty Woman the other day,” he smiles, “and I thought I’d pull an Edward Lewis and really surprise you because you deserve it.”

“You know how the movie ends, right?” Her heart beats really fast in her chest and she wants him to love her so bad but it’s also terrifying now that she’s this close.

“He lets her choose,” he whispers.

“He rescues her,” she corrects him.

“And she rescues him right back,” he really did watch the end of the movie.

It makes her heart skip a beat as she swallows sharply, “what does this mean for us?”

“I have a whole plan, a whole sequence of events I want to stick to. I wanted to make you fall in love with me this week and ask you on your birthday, can we still do that?” He pleads with her, he’s so serious. He’s clearly put a lot of effort into this.

“Absolutely,” she smiles, “but if you’re going to make me wait that long for you to ask, you still can’t kiss me till then. No matter how much I already love you.”

“Really?” He’s so soft with her, she knows he’s not reacting to the teasing. He’s never had someone tell him they love him and then stay after.

“I would never lie to you about that, spence. I know what love means to you, I know how scared you are and I’m scared too. But I know there is no one else in the whole world I’d rather be scared with than you,” she holds him tighter and rubs her nose against his, “so what’s in the bags, daddy? Finish your surprise.”

She plays along perfectly, stepping back and hauling him towards the bed. “I got you some outfits and things for the next 2 weeks, we have a few things planned. We’re going on a flight soon, I have new luggage being delivered to your apartment this week and we’re going to see your moms for 3 days.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “there’s no way, Spencer, I haven’t seen them in 5 years, I’m going to cry.”

“I know,” he cups her jaw with his hand. “They’re really excited to see you.”

She hugs him tight, kissing his neck as she holds him. “Thank you, daddy, do you want me to put something on for you now?”

“I’m just going to take it off you, plus, what your wearing is sexy enough, he whispers back. “You’re always so beautiful, baby.”

“I thought you were saving the best for last?” She asks as she pulls back, overly eager and he can tell.

“I want to repay the favour from the other night.”

She doesn’t mean to gasp and yet she does, “please?”

He pulls on the tie of her robe, opening it enough to snake a hand behind her back and draw her in with a hand on her bare back. “Please what?”

“Please, daddy?” She looks up with her best begging eyes, perfect pout and all. “I want you to touch me, I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

He steps away from her to swipe all the bags off the bed before picking her up and laying her back against the pillows. He kisses down her body, hand on her lover back as she arches, he drags his bottom lip from her belly button to her cleavage. Nipping and sucking at the exposed skin on her chest, pulling her breasts out of the bra to suck on her nipples, she moans and it’s louder than she expected.

As she plays with his hair, he marks her, bruising small little love bites all the way down as he makes his way between her legs, “take me, please?”

He’s been dreaming of this for so long, he can’t even give you an accurate number of times his mind has drifted to the thought of how wonderful she would taste, how beautiful she’d sound…

“Tell me how badly you want me?” He asks as he spreads her legs and kisses her left thigh.

“I haven’t had sex in 10 months while waiting for you. Daddy, please you’ve owned me for so long, just take what’s yours already for gods sa- OH!”

With a broad lick, his tongue flattens against her core and it shuts her up. She gets what she wants, holding into his hair as she tosses her head back, taking it all in and enjoying it. He’s been on her mind for months, every time her vibrator was where he is now, she thought of him. he’s been the man of her dreams longer than she’s known him, and he was proving it.

“Right there, daddy,” she speaks through shallow breaths, “do you know how much I’ve thought of this?”

“You know I don’t,” the vibrations of his voice against her skin are glorious, he looks up at her through his lashes as his tongue flicks over her clit and she shakes a bit.

“Fuck,” she gasps, gripping his hair tighter, “better than I thought you’d be, fuck, too bad you— Jesus, don’t have the stash anymore…”

He stops and looks up at her, the smirk on his face glistening with her juices, “the stash?”

She nods, “I’ve thought about calling it the pussy tickler,” she teases, running her hand down his cheek and swiping her thumb across his bottom lip before bringing it up to her mouth to taste, “I want more of you.”

He kisses back up her body and she reaches for his robe the second he’s close enough. “Just grind against me? I know you’re waiting but we can still feel good together?”

He kisses the side of her mouth and she takes that as a yes, wrapping her legs around him so his hard cock is pressed right against her core as they move their hips in synchronicity with each other. His breathing is heavy as he kisses her cheek and jaw, her nails scratch down his back, he feels absolutely amazing against her.

She feels so empty, she wants him so bad she’s clenching around nothing as she squirms against his cock and wishes she was full.

“I wish I could move time,” she whispers. “Fuck, why can’t it be my birthday?”

He laughs against her, grazing his teeth over her neck and drawing another moan from her but then he stops moving his hips, “why are you so impatient?”

“Remember I said I stopped enjoying everything? Well, taking a 10 month break from sex and thinking about you every time I got off has made me desperate,” her hand cups his cheek, “I’d wait forever for you, but a girl needs to be fucked hard every once in a while.”

Only she could find a way to make something both profoundly beautiful and whorish at the same time, he loved her for it and she knew that now. He smiles and leaned in to rub his nose against hers and it takes everything in her not to kiss him. The same way it was taking everything in him not to slip into her as he began to grind against her once more.

She’s so close, the accidental edging has added a whole new level of desperation she’s never felt before. She wants to cum for him so bad, but more importantly she wants him to cum for her.

“Take my bra off,” she whispers, Spencer’s hands travel behind her back to unclasp it and he helps her out of it before tossing it to the floor.

“Cum for me daddy,” she whispers in his head with a hand in his hair, gripping him tightly as he bites at her neck, “cover me with your cum like you’re marking your territory.”

“Shit,” his hips sputter against hers.

“Say it, I know you want to,” she teases, so close to the edge but it’s too good of an opportunity. She loves seeing him fall apart like this and she can’t wait to see it again. “Who’s am I?”

“Daddy’s girl.”

He grinds down on her harder and faster and she’s so close, the bubble in her gut is reaching a fever pitch and with a gasp, she’s cumming and then she feels it. His load covers her stomach as he pants against her neck and grips her hips tighter as he comes down.

She wraps her arms around him and holds him as close as humanly possible, her breathing still heavy as he rises and falls on her chest. He’s heavy but she doesn’t care, she just kisses the top of his head and thanks him.

He brushes his nose against her neck, nuzzling her like a cat, “do you really mean it?”

“What, honey?” He remembers so much, this could be a question about something she said 2 months or 2 minutes ago and she has no clue.

“You’re not just playing along with my kinks right, you genuinely want to be mine?”

For being her million dollar man, his heart sure was broke. This is why he wasn’t ready, he still didn’t understand why she would want to stay without anything in return, he’s gotten so used to paying her for her time now that his anxiety has managed to convince him that she’ll leave when he stops being worth it to her.

“What does my necklace say?” She asks, knowing how close he was to it. “Read it to me, I forget.”

“Daddy’s girl,” he smiles again.

She soothes her hands over his back, “I would do anything with you because I love and trust you, but also because everything you do is sexy… you could read me the dictionary and I’d still want you to pump me full of cum after.”

“It sounds so crude after,” he laughs, “speaking of, we really need to have a shower.”

“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine?” She teases as he gets up.

“Only if you let me wash the front too?”

She smacks his bare ass and races him into the bathroom, turning on the water and getting in with him while still laughing and carrying on. He’s her best friend in the whole world, there’s no one else she would rather do this with… there was no one she has done this with. No one has made her feel this good, before during and after sex.

Spencer Reid was an anomaly, but he was hers.

Permanent tag list:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @shemarmooresfedora @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @blanchardsbk @idonotexiste @measure-in-pain @dreams-in-blxck @doc-padfoot @nomajdetective @mggswhorificlover @dinonuggets1967 @meganskane @gubeskneescrew @kya-li @reidsbookclub @muffin-cup @sassymoon @shirleyrose

Sugar daddy fic (Some tags didn't work)

@mggs-sidehoe @bakugouswh0r3 @mggskneescrews @moonlight-2-6 @spencerreidscumwhore @my-thoughts-are-weird @violetclifford @youabitchhhh @bunny-script @baby-i-am-fireproof @moondustmemories @rexorangecouny @minervaonmars @onlyhereforthefanfics @anonymous-reading @go2sleepducky @kingcrain @beepbooptoop @givemeth @emma-is-a-nerd@wrecky-becky @eternalspence @ne--yo-pets @valerieweasley @coldlilheart @andiebeaword

[izzyliker]

some musings about ed, trauma, and ed-the-character as a system

Disclaimer: while I have an undergrad degree in psychology and sociology I am not a psychologist. I have years and years of first hand experience with living with C-PTSD and am married to someone with C-PTSD and who is also the host of an OSDD-1b (ie. one of the dissociative disorders that are associated with systems) system; and I am making this post from primarily a place of personal connection to the character, the way he’s presented, and the way we’re physically shown Ed’s childhood in flashbacks. People often discuss Ed from the context of him having “masks” and the Ed that sings songs and wears robes being “the real Ed” and I think that’s not a very good reading of the text (sorry) and this personal connection is probably why. 

First of all: Tumblr user uselessheretic wrote up an AMAZING post about Ed, trauma, and coping and really succinctly explained the changes in his personality from the IFS model perspective. Blackbeard, Edward, and the Kraken are not personas: they are versions of him with their own specific purposes. They exist for a REASON. None of them are “real” or “fake” and suggesting that Blackbeard and Kraken are “fake” or “performances” when held against Edward because they’re “violent” whereas Edward is “soft” and “gentle” has a whole bunch of terrible implications specifically because a lot of the time complex PTSD (ie. PTSD formed over time from repeated trauma as opposed to ye olde PTSD which is from a singular event with a start and end; eg. childhood abuse vs mass shooting survivor) DOES come with a distinct need to have some form of violence built in as a defense mechanism from abuse, aimed either at your abuser, other people, or yourself. The Kraken is that: Ed didn’t kill his dad, the Kraken did. By externalizing this act to a different person (or monster, in this case) entirely Ed could keep the emotional fallout from the act to the minimum: Ed didn’t kill anyone. His dad is gone. He might have loved his dad like children tend to, even when their parents are unsafe to be around, and he might’ve been genuinely distraught even though his dad was also the cause of his trauma. When the person who took care of the issue is NOT YOU you get to just focus on the conflict of “I’m relieved he’s gone [because he was abusive]” and “I’m upset he’s gone [because he’s my dad and I deserved better]” instead of also throwing in an additional “and also I killed him.” This reactive part doesn’t necessarily disappear and especially not just on its own. Ed, with the life he’s had, almost certainly never was in a place where he felt safe enough to “get rid of” the Kraken. That’s his built in security system. 

And this is where I have to discuss Ed as a system.

The C-PTSD is honestly not up for debate but I acknowledge that the show probably doesn’t mean for us to read him as a system. I cannot stop reading him that way, though, and the Kraken split is one of my main reasons for that. When Ed tells us the Kraken killed his dad I believe he genuinely thought that was the case. When he (the Kraken, and I’ll refer to these alters by those names from now on just for clarity) killed their dad the Kraken was sealed into a completely separate compartment by itself. Ed-as-a-collective remembers it but not consciously. It’s a memory that exists but can’t be readily accessed. When he is triggered by the fuckery presentation of the Kraken he physically falls to the ground from the sudden force of the memory. The way the monster blurs with young Ed, and the way he convulses on the ground completely dissociated from the rest of the world is so over the top dramatic in presentation it’s genuinely shocking to see from him. When we see him in the bathtub he’s not just vulnerable and crying and recovering from a flashback: he is still having it, and he’s not just vulnerable and seeking comfort, he’s regressing to a much more childish state than we have ever seen him or we ever see him again. This is Ed as close to his childhood self as he can get; this is him returning to not only the night the Kraken killed his dad, but probably several traumatic moments across several different points in time that he’s reliving at the same time. Like he’s not just having a breakdown: he’s having a complex trauma flashback, which are often not super clearly centered around a specific event as much as they are about feelings and vague memories blending with how you felt, what you saw, what you smelled, what you heard. This is happening AS HE IS TALKING TO STEDE. Ed is not there “in the moment” because he is being pulled between the past and the present in an extremely distressing way where there is no escape for him in either direction. He can’t ground himself in either world. Watching this scene over and over again it hits me so hard that when Ed says “I’m not a good person” he immediately goes on to say “I don’t have any friends” which is an extraordinarily childish thing to say in this context in the sense that that is what a lonely child in an unsafe living situation without anyone to reach out to would say. Edward, in the present, as he is, wants a friend and is lonely, but on a basic “he is having a flashback right now” level that is him speaking from the perspective and primal fears of his childhood self: Ed, the age slider, who has had contact with Kraken, the protector, for the first time in a very long time. When the Kraken was split (and I don’t know if that would’ve been long before the actual killing happened or if that was the moment it did happen; it’s possible the Kraken wasn’t even remotely the first person to be split to help Ed cope) it was split for a reason: to protect Ed. The Kraken has one task and that is to keep him safe. 

Footnote: it is not a given that a system will have an outwardly violent protector. Protectors form to meet the requirements of the traumatic situation in order to minimize the harm done psychologically and physically: if the situation requires a good fawner or mediator then one will form. If the situation requires someone who can ”want” the traumatic thing in question then one will form. If the situation requires someone who can fight back then one will form. Ed has very specific circumstances where the formation of one makes perfect sense. 

The Kraken is not a senseless violent person; he protects Ed. He does not lash out without reason. The Kraken kills Ed’s dad. He throws away the silk square. He throws Lucius overboard. He cuts off Izzy’s toe. These are all acts that are done to keep Ed safe, either physically or emotionally. The Kraken is not emotional, does not lash out, does not react. The Kraken plans and makes choices where Ed retreats and tries to hide. He is not a mask: when Izzy triggers the Kraken out he’s not forcing Ed to put on a mask, he is the last step in triggering a massive breakdown that had been building up for DAYS at that point. Ed’s been desperately pushing this off and he’s been doing… okay…. But the person that has been out was NOT the person who has been in charge previously: it was Ed, the childish alter, the one who wants to sing songs, the one who wants friends, who wants affection, who openly begs for it. That was NEVER going to be sustainable. He’s out and he’s raw and he should never have been left out alone for so long but Stede leaving with no warning has had him out without anyone else to take his place. This is his second “bathtub moment,” only this time nobody is there to give him the affection and understanding he needs. It’s not just Izzy: he can see how the crew looks at him like he’s lost his mind, and while Lucius tries to help him they are just not close enough for it to ever be feasible. Lucius didn’t promise to protect him and then follow through with it. Lucius didn’t take the only reminder of his childhood he carries with him, his traumatic childhood, the one he only accesses in flashbacks and tell him it’s beautiful. That he’s not ruined and broken for it. That was Stede. To Ed, Stede gave every indication that he was going to stay and be a safe person for Ed to trust and rely on. Would Ed even NEED the Kraken to keep him safe anymore, with Stede? It’s just been Ed, the age slider, the vulnerable child, the person who is the most susceptible to any harm, since probably right after they signed the act of grace. The rapid changes of his mind about wanting to stay vs. wanting to go to China are impulsive, they’re nonsensical, they’re clearly trauma responses to me: adapting to your current scenario quickly without processing it too much, just accepting it as a given, and then coming up with a fantastical escape (hello, the Kraken murdered my abusive dad). When Stede doesn’t show up the person who rows away isn’t Ed, it’s the Kraken. Ed would’ve waited until the British found him and took him back, but the Kraken knows this can’t happen so he takes them back to the Revenge. And then it’s Ed again. 

And it’s not just Ed and the Kraken. We actually see the Kraken only a very limited amount of times: when he kills his dad, when he throws away the silk square & Lucius, and when he cuts off Izzy’s toe. The Kraken is a last line of defense. Similarly, Ed is a highly emotional alter partially because he is the one with the most contact with the emotional parts of his trauma. He remembers. He wants affection. He cannot be left alone because if he is rejected or treated badly he is not built to handle it. He gets triggered out in times of emotional distress, and he’s the one crying and lashing out. Ed never got to grow up, and he’s insecure and emotional because he’s desperate for positive attention. When the French make fun of him at the dinner party it’s Ed that storms out, it’s Ed that finds Stede, it’s Ed who tells Stede he’s going to go back and shoot them all, and it’s Ed who Stede tells he’s going to take care of it, that he’s going to take care of him. They’re the protector and the protected, respectively. They’re highly specialized alters with purposes. 

So that leads us to Blackbeard. As uselessheretic identifies him as, when following the IFS model Blackbeard is the manager. He’s the person who takes care of day to day tasks. He’s the person we see the most. This is different from Blackbeard-the-persona, as in the fearsome pirate image he has crafted with Izzy: that Blackbeard is just a brand. Blackbeard the manager is the person we see the most. He’s brilliant, he’s violent, he enjoys maiming, he enjoys a good fuckery, he’s a hard worker and he’s funny and Stede enjoys being around him and he’s built himself from the ground up. He’s not held back by his trauma (because Ed’s holding onto pretty much all of it) and he’s able to enjoy violence (because the Kraken does what would, for him, be emotionally exhausting, traumatic murder and violence - I think one of the reasons that the trauma unfolding happens at all is because Blackbeard is trying to kill Stede [traumatic murder] AS the Kraken imagery occurs. This is a perfect storm). In some ways he seeks it out as the receiver: he wants Stede to stab him, and doesn’t seem to be averse to it in general. It’s just simply not that deep to him. They lost crew members? Sucks. Anyway, what’s for dinner? He’s practical but he’s not emotionless the way the Kraken is: Blackbeard is a much more “complete” person than the Kraken is. Ed and Blackbeard are people in that they have their own distinct personalities, and they are capable of the full range of the human emotional spectrum. Kraken isn’t, because he has a specific purpose that requires a certain amount of non-humanness, or else he wouldn’t be able to fulfill that purpose. 

But I think there is a fourth person as well: and that is the person that does whippies with Jack, who thinks Jack is just a pathetic guy and a harmless dude, really, who gets fooled by him, who is impulsive and reckless and rambunctious. I actually suspect that Blackbeard ISN’T who was originally in charge after Ed left home: I think this person was the one who had the reins for a long time, and split from Ed somewhere between the murder and before they left to work for Hornigold. I think he’s sort of a proto-Blackbeard in function: more immature, seemingly stuck in an eternal state of frat boy fun, and I think that’s because he IS stuck in that state. I don’t know how to analyze their relationship but I think there’s definitely something really complex there. He seems to trust Jack way more than Jack deserves but I don’t really know what to make of it. It’s a very naive way of looking at people; a childish desire to make friends combined with these desires to understand someone and see deeper within them. Blackbeard is the matured version: more confident, more sure of his authority, someone who knows what he’s doing, and who has a healthy amount of arrogance. This person… is not Blackbeard. This person is a total 180 from any version of him that Stede has ever met, and when he tells Stede “this is who I am” it’s not even remotely what we as the audience have observed previously. Blackbeard pre-Stede was moody, mysterious; impulsive and erratic according to Izzy, sure, but this is not that. This is something else entirely. 

The only way him saying that makes sense is if that is genuinely what he thinks in that moment: I don’t think there’s a tremendous amount of amnesia between switches but I think there is also next to no internal communication between alters and it seems like generally speaking they operate under the assumption that they ARE the same person. And that is a valid way for a system to identify: but this is different from that kind of a conscious choice. In this case there is no conscious statement; it’s an assumption that everyone feels this way, that “this is just how it sometimes is” is the same as “this is the REAL me,” etc. And there is no “real me” – that’s the point! They’re all equally real. Ed-as-a-collective has no solid grasp on his personality or selfhood because he’s completely blissfully unaware of the fact that there’s a good reason for that. Now the issue is that Ed would never have the language for any of this. As I said the amnesia between alters seems to mostly be limited to the Kraken, and when Izzy refers to his increasingly erratic moods I suspect he just means that Blackbeard as the host and the most normie alter is getting bored and depressed and just doing weird shit, though I wouldn’t be surprised if Izzy had come into contact with Ed the age slider and found the interaction(s) confusing and offputting. I don’t think Ed would process these alters as separate necessarily, and the other characters of course would have no idea. So to expect that Stede would need to take care of Ed is both unfair to Stede on the basis that he doesn’t KNOW and on the basis that Ed and Ed& cannot expect to externalize the caretaking onto someone else. Not because it’s unfair to Stede (although it kind of is) but because it’s fundamentally unsustainable on an internal level. The Kraken, as blunt of an instrument as he might be, is built to the exact needs that Ed needs to be taken care of, because that’s how he came to be. Stede is his own external person whose origin ISN’T Ed’s brain as it was when he was experiencing tremendous amounts of acute traumatic events. Ed is realizing this issue now that it’s already too late. 

The thing is that Stede did – and honestly it’s fucking remarkable considering that Stede generally has the emotional intelligence of a spoon – everything right every single time he came into contact with Ed-the-age-slider. I don’t know if it’s because Stede, someone who also has a bunch of childhood trauma, on some level knew that he was seeing a traumatic flashback unfold and KNEW what to do, or if he’s genuinely just fine tuned to understand Ed, but when Ed comes to him with tears in his eyes and tells him they laughed at him and that he’s going to shoot them Stede tells him to stand down, and then with voice soft as a gentle breeze tells him that he’s going to take care of it. I’ll do this for you. You’re hurt and you’re right to be hurt and I love you and I want you to feel safe and taken care of, and I’ll do it because I know how to do it and I want to keep you safe from the fallout. And Stede follows through. Ed stares at Stede with unbelieving eyes the whole time, and then the whole way back to the Revenge. This is a breaking point. This is the first crack in Ed’s shell. This is something that has only ever been done by Ed, or by Blackbeard, or by the Kraken when it was really, really bad. So to have someone else do it for him – no wonder he’s quiet for pretty much the rest of the night, save for like, ten words for the rest of the episode. 

And then Stede sees the memory of his childhood, the little square of silk, the physical reminder of his horrible, traumatic childhood he tries to shield himself from, and he touches it, and he might as well be touching Ed’s heart. He looks at it; the silk being a metaphor for the traumatized child who still exists acutely inside of Ed, the one who feels so many conflicting emotions about his trauma, who blames himself and everyone around him and who just wants to be loved and protected, who in that moment is still distressed and recovering from an intensely upsetting emotional moment; and he tells Ed that it’s beautiful. He goes out of his way to neaten it. He goes out of his way to put it on Ed, where he can see, and he tells Ed that he wears it well. That it’s a fine thing. And I can’t even… Ed, the traumatized child who almost certainly felt like he would just never matter, that his life would always be fear and loneliness, being told he’s worth something not only now, but as a child, too, that he was always lovable, enough so that he shouldn’t hide that part of himself out of fear of being rejected… not around Stede, at least. Not-she-which-burns-in-it wrote a breathtaking post about that specific scene and the body language of both of them and it really haunts me. 

And then in the bathtub Ed is inconsolable, we’re surrounded by mirrors, the cracks in his consciousness, where he’s drifting between flashbacks and real life, where he’s having tremendous issues differentiating reality from memory, and Stede comes in. And here’s what I always think about:

Stede doesn’t try to touch him. Stede sits a fair distance away but his body language is open and he’s obviously engaged and listening. Stede doesn’t accuse him of anything. When Ed admits to the plan Stede doesn’t yell at him, doesn’t leave, he just asks whether it will still happen. Ed tells him he doesn’t have friends, Stede tells him he’s his friend. The mirrors repeat. Ed is still having his flashback sequence. Stede doesn’t leave. He doesn’t push. He lets Ed lead the conversation. And near the end he offers out his arm and Ed reaches for it. It’s Ed’s choice. It’s Ed who has agency. It’s Ed who’s in charge, who gets to share what he wants, who gets to be as vulnerable as he wants, who gets to choose if he’s touched, how close he wants Stede to be. And Stede sits with him until he’s gathered himself, and then they leave together. 

And for me it’s like – at the beach he says “I can just be Ed, and what makes Ed happy is you” and of course on an obvious textual level it just means what it says: he’s just himself, without the need to maintain his image or to hold power or manage others. I just – I know you have to be fairly committed to this reading here but it haunts and vexes me to think about this subconscious admittance of the fact that this vulnerable person who holds probably all of the trauma is safe and happy with Stede to the point where he can be the one front, where he feels safe. That Stede will take care of him, that he can trust him, that he can let his guard down. And of course that backfires almost immediately. 

So like: I don’t know where exactly I was going with this, except just that… regardless of what specific trauma consequence you see him as having these “versions” are highly unlikely to be “fake” or masks. They’re either “parts” or they’re alters; I tend to go with the alter theory. I think Ed as a character is Very consistent with how a system in the 1700s might come across to people who simply do not have the language. And these parts, regardless of how you see them, do have specific roles and meanings and they exist for a reason. As the text keeps telling us Ed has a shit ton of trauma over his childhood and this has affected his emotional processing skills to a tremendous extent. The Kraken does not come across as a “mask” or something Ed is pretending to be: he is (imo) clearly something that already existed in this capacity, and he is completely different from Ed or Blackbeard in every single way, down to the way he moves, his facial expressions, how he carries himself, even his look. Kraken is – yeah, breakdown, but, more specifically, he’s a completely different person entirely, and that’s by necessity. He’s just as real as Blackbeard as Ed. I don’t think the Kraken is at all connected to the Blackbeard image, because I don’t think he would ever come out “casually.” He seems distinctly like a last resort trauma trigger solver, not a party trick. And in the same vein Blackbeard is not less authentic than Ed is: it’s just that Ed is completely saddled with all of the trauma that the person in charge cannot hold onto. This is a balance of juggling trauma and functionality with next to no outside help, and when Ed opened up to Stede to such an extent and imprinted on him with basically no safeguards it’s a sweet moment, but it’s a dangerous one as well. And it’s not a conclusion or a climax to their arc or Ed’s trauma processing: Ed has a lot of very, very complex trauma rooted in his psyche that he has been carrying around for decades. That is the literal first peeling back of trauma. It can be intensely retraumatizing to uncover a traumatic memory without proper safeguards, and Ed is incredibly lucky that Stede was so delicate and gentle with him, because that could’ve gone horribly wrong. Ed is not realizing he can be gentle; he’s realizing that he’d been repressing a memory of murdering his dad for decades, and quite possibly realizing that he’s been repressing enormous amounts of trauma in general. Like: this is a breakthrough moment but not in the sense fandom seems to often claim it is – this is not helping Ed realize he doesn’t have to be violent or that he can be vulnerable in general, it’s him deciding that Stede is safe for him to be around. That has next to nothing to do with Blackbeard or his personality or how he feels about violence, and is wholly disconnected from the Kraken because the Kraken is irrelevant to their day to day operations.

Idk! I love my complex meow meow. He’s out there. Be nice to him

[bruhlsbees]

behind the mask ; 1/2 || baron helmut zemo x fem!reader

summary: helmut comes home late and for some reason won't take his mask off

pairing: baron helmut zemo x fem!reader

word count: 2,621

warnings: a little bit of dark zemo, smut, helmut wears his mask when y'all do the do, 18+, minors dni, nsfw

a/n: this is something i whipped up on my phone last night! i'm getting my internet hooked up today so i'll be posting bigger chapters again soon!! :) thank you all for being patient, hope you enjoy!

You hadn’t seen Helmut all day. You knew that he had some business he was attending after, but you didn’t realize it would take him this long.

For dinner you made a classic Sokovian dish with lots of meat and sauce that made the kitchen smell extremely savory. You knew that Helmut enjoyed the classic dishes from his childhood and wanted to make it for him as a surprise.

So yes, you were upset when dinner began to get cold and you ended up eating alone. You had spent all afternoon perfecting it to make sure that it was just the way Helmut remembered it.

You texted him at first, explaining that dinner was ready and that you were waiting for him. No response. You texted him again asking when he would be home. No response. It was the third time you finally called him and when the phone didn’t even ring, simply prompting you directly to his voicemail, you became worried.

Helmut was always attentive over you and your emotions. He knew you didn’t like to be left in the dark and especially tonight you were extra emotional. It had been a hard week for the both of you - living in secrecy after escaping prison, again, often left you both on edge. That’s why you had made the traditional dish that night, to make up for the week.

After putting everything away and taking a shower to clean up, you went into your shared room with Helmut and sat at your vanity, beginning your nightly routine as you got around for bed. Your anxiety overcame your anger as you desperately tried to not think the worst case scenario. Did something happen? Was Helmut in custody again?

Fumbling with your night creme, you sighed at the sight of your shaky fingers plopping the lotion against your face, rubbing it into your skin. It was going on eleven at night now - never has Helmut ever been this late.

As you went to set your night cream back down, the small container it was in fumbled out of your hand and rolled under the vanity.

“Shit!”

Leaning forward, you bent under the vanity and felt around for the container before feeling it in between your fingers, leaning back up to set it down.

When you came up, though, you nearly jumped from your skin at the sight of him behind you.

“Jesus! Helmut! What are you doing?”

Looking at him through the mirror, you saw Helmut behind you - his purple mask pulled over his face and his coat on, the fronts wrapped up to cover himself.

He didn’t say anything, only stared at you, which annoyed you deeply. Shaking your head, you continued to get ready for bed, deciding to just ignore him for the most part.

“Your plate is in the fridge. I already ate.”

Cocking his head to the side, Helmut took a step towards you, still remaining silent. He carefully walked up behind you, reaching over you for your brush that sat on your vanity before sitting up, gently pulling your hair down before beginning to brush out the knots.

Surprisingly to yourself, you kept up the cold shoulder act longer than you expected. You leaned your head back slightly and watched him through the mirror as he continued to run the brush through your hair.

“Where were you?” You finally asked. You would wait to say that you were worried and missed him, holding your affection back while your anger died down. However, it only began to rise again when he still said absolutely nothing, rolling your eyes as you began to stand up.

“I’m not playing whatever game this is, Helmut. I’m going to bed.”

Before you could fully stand up from the bench, Helmut took a step forward, placing his hands on either side of you onto the vanity, trapping you pinned in your spot. Your breath hitched to your throat with how close he was to you so suddenly, his chin resting now on your shoulder.

Slowly you began to sit back down, Helmut moving to the side of you slightly, still looking at you through the mirror in silence, his gloved hand stroking the side of your face, the leather running along your soft skin.

You felt him run his gloved thumb along your bottom lip, the leather grazing your teeth when he swiped it back the other way, this time between your lips. It sent a shiver down your spine at how ominous he was being this evening. He never wore his mask around you, what was this all about?

Looking at him, you shook your head and turned away, the tears now pricking your eyes, “Is there someone else? Do I know her? If there is, just tell me and I’ll go-“

Your words got caught in your throat when you suddenly felt his hand around your neck. He wasn’t choking you, but squeezed the sides of your throat gently, gaining your attention.

Even then, Helmut still didn’t say a word. He simply shook his head and leaned down, pressing his face against the side of your cheek, rubbing his face towards your hair before inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

You heard the quiet moan that came from him, his face pressing harder against your head as he squeezed your throat a little harder - still not enough to cause any pain or discomfort.

God, why did he have to do this now? When you were trying so hard to be angry with him?

Your eyes lulled shut when you felt his hand slip down from your neck and under your robe, squeezing your left breast until he heard you moan before pinching and pulling at your nipple.

As your head fell back, feeling his face press against your chest where your heart was, you ran your hand up his back and towards the back of his neck, grabbing at the bottom of his mask to lift up before he suddenly caught your wrist.

When he pulled away from you, holding your delicate wrist in his grasp, he looked into your eyes and shook his head, eyes crinkling as he smiled under his mask.

You smiled weakly back, closing your eyes when his free hand came up to stroke the side of your face. When he stopped, you opened your eyes and watched as he motioned for you to get on the bed.

Standing up, you went toward the bed before feeling him grab your waist, spinning you around to face him. At first you were confused, maybe you got the wrong message? He shook his head, reaching down to pull the string of your robe until it opened, revealing your naked body before he pushed the robe off your shoulders, letting it land on the floor.

You stood in your spot while he grabbed at you again, fondling your breasts and playing with your hair before he brought his right hand up to your mouth, wiggling his fingers for you to pull his glove off with your teeth.

Blushing, you leaned forward and kept your eyes locked on his as you gently bit down on the middle finger, pulling the glove off slowly before letting it hang from your teeth. Helmut smiled and reached forward, stuffing the glove into your mouth until your cheeks protrude out.

He took the other one off himself, letting it fall on the ground with your robe before turning you around, guiding you to the bed where he helped you on, placing you on your hands and knees. Helmut smiled at your position, his right hand coming up to cup your ass before giving it a good squeeze, bringing his hand back to smack you, leaving a red handprint against your flesh.

You moaned through the glove, your front half falling into the mountain of pillows you had on the bed, your ass sticking out still. Closing your eyes, you heard his light steps walk around you. You assumed he was now getting undressed.

And he was. Carefully taking off his clothes and stuffing them in his hamper, not wanting you to see the blood on his clothes that he hid under his jacket. Keeping the mask on, he headed back toward the bed, his now hard cock standing up as he knelt behind you, grabbing your hips to guide you back so when it was time, he could thrust into you easy.

But he didn’t want to jump into it just yet. He wanted to watch you squirm, forget how angry you were at him only seconds ago as your brain began to cloud over with lust. Helmut massaged your hips, rolling his hands up your back to massage your shoulders until he felt your muscles soften.

He couldn’t hear what you had said - your voice muffled by the glove that gagged your mouth, but Helmut assumed you were growing frustrated by the teasing he was doing, as the two of you hardly did any foreplay.

Taking his dick into his hand, Helmut leaned forward until he felt the tip slightly sink into you, the wetness already too much for him. How was he going to last?

Helmut let out a low grunt before rubbing his dick against you, letting your wetness coax over him before he couldn’t wait any longer and pushed himself deep into you.

You moaned out against the glove, your hands squeezing the pillows as he began to pump inside of you, the only sound filling the room was his hips slapping against yours and your own wetness.

It became intoxicating so fast, drool beginning to slip out of the corner of your mouth and roll down your chin and onto the pillows.

At the sound of your moans, Helmut only quickened his pace, reaching forward to grab your hair, pulling it so you arched your back more, head tilted up towards the ceiling.

With his free hand, Helmut reached around and took the glove from your mouth, massaging your jaw before his hand fell further down, cupping your left breast. He missed hearing you say his name, begging him to cum deep inside of you.

He could his own dick twitching inside of you, your walls clenching tight around him until it became almost unbearable.

“Please, Helmut...please cum in me. I want to take it all.” You whined out, pressing yourself further into his hips as his thrusts became more jagged and harder.

It came as a surprise when he heard you suddenly cry out, collapsing forward as your own climax began to leak around him, sticking to his pelvis as he continued to rut inside you.

Feeling light headed, Helmut pulled the mask off his head, tossing it to the ground before wiping his forehead, pushing his hair back before gripping your hips again.

“You’re mine.” He said suddenly, catching your attention and a faint whimper.

“I’m yours.” You whispered, feeling your stomach flip again, your second orgasm rising.

He slapped the sides of your ass, squeezing at the pillowy flesh as he dug his fingers into you.

“That’s right. And you’re the only one for me. So don’t ever fucking think I’m off fucking some other bitch. You hear me? You’re the only one I’m stuffing my dick inside.”

His words, while not cruel, were much harsher than usual. You nodded and let

your head fall forward, biting down on your bottom lip as you felt him lean forward and kiss your back. You smiled at the feeling of his lips on you, his tongue occasionally tracing shapes into your back before biting into you.

Helmut knew he was about to cum and he adjusted his position behind you, his knees shifting until he was pressed against you more. You heard him say a string of words in Sokovian, not sure what exactly, before he thrust one final time in you, keeping himself buried deep inside of you as he spilled in you.

Your second orgasm came only moments later, your body falling forward on the bed, panting as you tried desperately to catch your breath.

Panting himself, Helmut wiped his forehead with the back of his hand again before gently pulling out, the mix of both of your orgasms spilling out.

“Don’t move, I’ll be back”

He carefully got off the bed and went into the bathroom, finding a rag and getting some water on it before turning to the bedroom, sitting on the bed as he gently wiped you clean, knowing how sensitive you’d still be down there.

When he finished with you, he attended to himself, wiping himself off before tossing the rag on the ground with the rest of your dirty clothes that you had left out. He could only chuckle at the sight, noticing how different the two of you were, yet fit so well together.

You rolled onto your back and sat up, moving on your knees to sit behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You kissed his shoulder and up his neck before catching a dark bruise on his face. Carefully taking his face, you moved and tilted his head towards you, seeing dark bruises and cuts scattered across his face.

He frowned and dropped his head at the sound of your gasp, knowing that you would only be worried now.

“What happened? Who did this to you? Did this happen while you were out? Why didn’t you call?” Your questions came out so rapidly that Helmut didn’t know how to process them. Taking your hands off his face, he kissed your fingers before looking up at you.

“Business just didn’t go well today, that’s all. I’m okay now though, I’m back home with you,” You opened your mouth to speak and he quickly shushed you, “Calling you would not have helped. I don’t want you near these people. Okay? James...he came and helped me. I know we agreed to not contact anyone we know, but I knew James would help.”

You didn’t know what to say. It was all a lot to wrap your brain around. What mattered most was that he was home and safe with you now.

Leaning forward, you kissed him gently, not wanting to hurt him. “I’m glad you’re okay now,” You whispered, “I’m sorry for thinking you were seeing someone. For being so rude when you got home.”

He shook his head and kissed you again, pulling away shortly after, “You don’t need to apologize. I’m not angry.” He pulled you into his lap, holding you close while his head rested in the crook of your neck.

You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling his breathing steady against your skin. “Are you hungry? Why don’t you go eat and then we can head to bed?”

You were a little surprised when he hugged you closer, becoming a little more grabby than usual, “No...” he insisted, “I just want to lay with you, fall asleep in your arms.”

Smiling, you nodded and kissed the top of his head, pulling away to stand up and go turn off the light. When you came back to the bed, you crawled under the covers with Helmut, opening your arms for him to curl up into you.

As you rubbed his neck and back, kissing the top of his head, you smiled gently as you felt yourself grow tired.

“You know, maybe when you aren’t trying to hide your injuries from me again, you can put the mask on when you fuck me. I kinda liked it.”

You felt his smile grow against your skin before he looked at you, taking his left hand to your face, embracing you.

“Or maybe next time you can wear it.”

[early2000smovieimagines]

Meeting and Dating Ahkmenrah

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(This movie was my childhood. Brings back so many good memories ...and crushes.)

- You’d worked at quite a few museums in your day but none of them were quite like the Museum of Natural History; a fact you’d be made aware of very suddenly and without warning.

- You were somewhat new to the building, hired to do work on the exhibits since you were skilled in restoration and design. You weren’t a night worker, at least you weren’t supposed to be, but you’d accidentally dropped something as you were leaving your office and were forced to stay late to clean it up.

- After a few moments of sweeping, you’d heard a commotion upstairs and as you went to leave the museum; and investigate, you’d walked straight into the beautiful chaos of a night at the museum.

- Let’s just say that Larry had a lot to explain, all of which you took surprisingly well; though you didn’t have much of a choice now did you?

- Ahkmenrah spotted you from across the museum and watched as you made your way around the new magical world, staring at every person and thing in awe. He spied on you throughout the night and found that when he’d finally thought it appropriate to approach you, the sun was already beginning to rise.

- So the next day, he asks Larry about you, pretending as though he’s asking for no reason at all. Larry knowingly offers to introduce the two of you and the mummy drops the act, eagerly accepting.

“I’d like that very much, yes.”

- Larry approaches you with the sparkling pharaoh and is soon called away by someone else, leaving the two of you alone to speak. Ahkmenrah motions over to a bench nearby, commenting that it “must be a lot to get used to” as you both take a seat. You laugh in agreement and before you know it, the two of you are engaged in a conversation.

- Ahkmenrah’s sweet, he’s charming, he’s handsome, and he’s quite enamored with you; though you don’t know that just yet.

- Soon enough, it’s time for the sun to rise and he takes notice, begrudgingly standing and admitting that he “must say goodbye”. You respond with a somewhat disappointed goodbye yourself, watching as he begins to walk away before he turns and says “I should like to see you tomorrow ...to continue our conversation” to which you happily agree.

- The two of you become close fairly quickly. Anytime he spots you in a room, he makes a beeline towards you; both because he really likes you and because he’s somewhat awkward himself.

- He always likes being there for you, considering you’re new and not used to all that history coming to life stuff. He takes pride in being your guide and sort of likes the feeling of you depending on him a bit.

- Your “friendship” takes an obvious romantic turn, particularly; and outwardly, on his side; I say “friendship” because it was probably somewhat obvious from that he liked you more than that even from the beginning.

- He compliments you, oftentimes earnestly and quietly calling you beautiful, uses any excuse to touch you and your clothes, etc. He awes you with talks of Egypt and sweeps you off your feet quite easily. It’s really only a matter of time before the two of you get together.

- That “time” comes one day as you’re both sitting all alone. The room is dark and warmly lit and you’re sitting so close that his knees are touching yours. His hands hold yours as he speaks quietly to you and your face is leaned in close so that you can hear him.

- And then it just happens, your faces close in and you kiss, his grasp tightening around your hands.

- You’re interrupted by one of the others, most likely Larry who quickly apologizes and mentions something about the sun coming up before leaving the two of you be. Ahkmenrah turns back to you, saying something along the lines of “so we must once again say goodbye” with a small smile.

“It would appear so.” You respond, though you’re hesitant to move from your place. But alas, the sun has to rise and you have to go home.

“Tomorrow then,” He smiles at you, giving your hand one last squeeze. “...My queen.”

- You leave that morning, eager for the daylight to go and for you to be reunited with your newfound lover once more.

- Ahkmenrahs from ancient Egypt so I’m sure he isn’t particularly accustomed to “normal” Pda. That being said, he is somewhat dorky and practically has an entire hall to himself so he either just gives you innocent pda or the two of you go to his exhibit; and not have to worry about anyone seeing you.

- He’s been locked up in a sarcophagus for about fifty years; or more, so he’s arguably a bit touch starved. He’s always trying to touch you in some way and absolutely loves it whenever you touch him.

- He likes holding both your hands in his, occasionally bringing one of them to his lips. He just likes touching your hands in general if we’re being honest.

- Gentle caresses. He’s in love, leave him alone.

- Forehead and cheek kisses. He likes prolonging the amount of time his lips spend on your skin; a normal prolonged amount of time of course.

- Long, soft kisses.

- Loving makeout sessions. His hands roam your back and pull you in as close as they can whenever you have one.

- He likes laying between your legs and/or resting his head in your lap.

- Cuddling with your arms wrapped around each other and your head resting against his shoulder. He likes laying and talking with you, playing with the fingers that lay on his chest.

- Having his robes draped over and around you.

- He likes having you with him at all times, both because he’s protective of you and because he can’t bear to be away from you for more than a few hours.

- You’ll usually hang back and cling to his arm whenever you’re standing together. He likes feeling your presence at his side and the light grip you have on him.

- A bit clingy. He only gets to see you at night and has been alone for quite some time, of course he’s gonna want to be around you as much as possible.

- He always gets somewhat flustered when you give him gifts; particularly sweet things like flowers. You would have sworn you’d given him your underwear with the way he smiles and blushes in response.

- Ahkmenrah was the favorite son so he was a bit spoiled as a child. That being said, he’s surprisingly humble and sweet for a pharaoh that was given the best of everything.

- He’s probably teared up a little because of you at some point, whether it be your actions or just the fact that you’re there with him. He can get a bit emotional at times.

- Dancing together. We all saw how beautifully that man can move.

- Sneaking him out every once in a while. He really likes your apartment; even if you’re sort of embarrassed because he’s a literal pharaoh and lived in a temple when he was alive.

- Movie dates. They’re the easiest thing to do with him and he’s missed out on pretty much all of them so he’s got a lot of catching up to do.

- Listening to music together.

- Considering his time at Cambridge and just the way he is, he may or may not wax poetic about or at you on occasion. He gets a little embarrassed when he realizes that he’s doing it but it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard/seen.

- Compliments and lots of them; usually paired with a term of endearment.

- He uses a lot of pet names on you, usually somewhat old fashioned ones. My dear, my sun, my queen, etc.

- He’s the cutest when posing for photos. He tries to look all regal in the beginning but it quickly dissolves into the adorable dorkiness that you know so well.

- The boy is lovestruck. He could sit and watch you do nothing with this look of unwavering love on his face for hours. Need to do some work? Thats totally fine. He’ll just sit there and love you.

- Please let him braid your hair. There’s just something that’s so relaxing and sweet about it to him.

- He has a hard time saying no to you. You’re his queen after all, you should have everything you could ever dream of; and he’s just too sweet to deny nearly anyone.

- Polite and respectful, Ahkmenrah is a gentleman with incredibly good manners. You’ll never be disappointed in his behavior.

- Helping Larry and him take care of the museum and tablet.

- Teaching him about all he’s missed.

- Always having a translator. He certainly comes in handy when you’re traveling around the museum and run into some “hostile” exhibits.

- Getting quietly and excitedly told a bunch of stories. He’s always so adorably eager to tell you about his life; whether it be about Ancient Egypt or more present times.

- He wants to introduce you to his parents so badly; though he’s somewhat embarrassed by them. Maybe you’ll transfer to the London museum for a bit?

- Getting bragged about. He always makes you sound cooler than you really are, though in your case, that’s just how he sees you.

- Stopping him from making morbid comments; oftentimes at the wrong time, or just giving him a look. He’s got a sort of different view on what’s exactly an acceptable thing to say.

“Too dark?”

- Sharing looks and making comments to each other.

- He’s always so gentle and caring with you; especially when you’re hurt or upset. He prides himself on being by your side and taking care of you.

- He’s a fairly patient person; especially with you. I mean, he’s had to wait a lot more than a few years to be let out of his sarcophagus so one can assume that he’d be good at that sort of thing.

- He’s not a terribly jealous person. Arguably, if you choose to be in a difficult relationship with a mummy, then you obviously want that relationship, right? He’s loyal and he expects you to be as well; that’s how it was in his times.

- That being said: if someone shows interest in you then he’ll get a bit jealous; though he’ll save his real jealousy for when he gets to see how you respond to them and how they respond to him making it known that you’re together.

- The museum can certainly get a bit dangerous at times; and he can only be there for you when you’re there, so of course he’ll be protective of and worry about you. He looks out for you and tells you to be careful every time you’re saying goodbye.

- The two of you hardly ever fight or argue, you’re just compatible with each other; and you rarely have the time to do so anyway. Plus, your pharaoh doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and lives to please you, so why would he try to fight with you?

- If he’s somehow done something; which is highly unlikely, he’ll apologize the minute that he realizes he’s upset you or thinks that he has. He’ll give you space if you want or need it and welcomes you back with open arms when you’re ready.

- If you’ve upset him then he’ll do his best to give you the silent treatment and act professional with you; not quite cold but not loving like he usually is. He’ll do so until you apologize and he cracks, shyly accepting your apology and reverting back to his sweet self.

- Lots of I love yous. You’re his queen, what do you expect?

- Your relationship is certainly going to be a bit challenging, but the happiness and love you feel with each other is worth it.

[l-r-christian]

Can I request an imagine where the reader is childhood friends with elena and is apart of the scooby doo gang and she gets kidnapped by klaus for leverage but shes super sweet and friendly and her sweetness is almost off putting to klaus and they end up falling in love? Then they have to go tell the gang and she ends up having to choose

Yes you can. Can I say I rewatched Vampire Diaries and The Originals, I feel like the Mikaelsons deserve better.

Warnings: fluff, angst, Klaus being overprotective

Y/N had grown up with both Elena and Caroline, she was their closest childhood friend and the Scooby doo gang's researcher as Y/N knew everything there was about Mystic Falls. But lately she couldn't help feel like neglected by her friends as they were focused on Klaus Mikaelson the newest baddie after Elena. Y/N was too sweet, too nice to tell her friends how she felt so she kept to herself.

"Glad to see you are awake, love." Y/N blinked getting her bearings and saw Klaus smirking looking her over. Y/N was trying to remember what happened as she heard her cat, Sir Lancelot, let out a loud meow. Believing he couldn't get back into the house she got out of bed slipping on a robe and went to help her beloved Lancelot.

"Oh you had a hybrid kidnapp me." Y/N said softly not freaking out as much as Klaus thought she would.

"Hmmm can you make sure someone feeds Sir Lancelot? If you are going to keep me for awhile?"

"You don't seem so upset about this as I thought you would." Klaus said unitieing Y/N watching her fix her robe giving him a peek of the short nightie she wore.

"I'm leverage for Elena right? So why freak out as I told them in that you would kidnapp me."

"And why would you believe that?"

"Because you are a smart guy. I'm the one that has knowledge of this town. Hey did you paint these?" Y/N asked getting distracted by Klaus's paintings as the hybrid was taken back by how her eyes lit up.

"I did." Klaus answered honestly watching her study them his heart seemly fluttering when she smiled at him.

"They're beautiful. I wish I could paint this good."

"I could teach you."

"I'll love that." Y/N said still smiling as Klaus found hisself spending the day with her instead of using her. Klaus began to fall for the human girl as she adored hanging around the hybrid.

"Klaus hadn't came around me in awhile." Caroline tells the others as she walked into the Salvatore home. The gang was surprised as they began to notice that Klaus had basically back off unaware that the hybrid had been spending time with Y/N.

Y/N opened her door finding a box and she picked it up opening it seeing it was a gorgeous strapless champagne colored dress with gold flecks on the flowy skirt. Y/N picked up an envelope seeing it was an Invitation to the Mikaelson ball to be Klaus's date this made her blush. Her and Klaus agreed to let the gang know about their relationship as she loved the hybrid while he loved her 10x more.

Klaus looked to the door seeing Y/N stepped inside looking like Goddess in the dress that Rebekah helped pick out. The dress hugged Y/N's curves perfectly and she was wearing the necklace he bought her that was a wolf pendant.

"What is Y/N doing here?" Elena asked Stefan and Damon watching Klaus walk up to Y/N kissing her hand. Klaus felt his heart flutter as Y/N smile at him lacing their fingers together as she leaned in kissing his cheek.

"You look stunning, love." Klaus tells Y/N making her blush and heart flutter as she wrapped her arms around his.

"And you look devilishly handsome." Y/N tells Klaus as for the rest of the night Y/N was by Klaus's side which Elena realized that they were together. So the group confronted the two and Klaus hid Y/N behind him growling.

"Yes Nik and I are dating."

"Y/N, you can't date him! He is the enemy." Damon said glaring as Y/N frowned hold Klaus's hand.

"Nik has been nothing but sweet to me. And to be fair you guys are trying to kill him and his siblings."

"You have to choose Y/N. Us or the murderer." Elena told her making Y/N stop as her heart squeezed hurting. Klaus couldn't believe what he heard as he knew just how much your friends meant to you which was why he began to leave them alone.

"Elena....you can't do this."

"Him or us. You can't have both." Elena said crossing her arms staring at her childhood friend. Y/N began to tear up as she couldn't choose between her childhood friend and the man she loved more than anything.

"Elena.....please."

"Choose or I will." Elena said knowing Y/N would choose the group over Klaus and the hybrid knew it too so she surprised everyone with her answer.

"I choose Nik then." Y/N said staring down her friends as Klaus flet his heart stop as Y/N got into an argument with Elena that ened in tears. Y/N looked to Klaus cupping his face placing his forehead against hers.

"You choose me.....why?"

"Because I love you Nik. This has been the most real thing I have ever had so I would be a fool to throw it away."

"I love you too, beloved." Klaus says softly kissing her gently as she kissed back. Klaus knew he was going to marry this woman but first he needed to be sure their love stayed real.

[xreaderbooks]

Part of us

 Request: Could I request a Sirius x reader where the reader is maybe a year younger and his or regulus childhood best friend and she gets sorted to gryffindor so she becomes a target for bullies so Sirius and the marauders takes her under their wing....a few years later she gets hurt and Sirius gets super protective and confess his feelings....angst and fluff??

Pair: Sirius Black x reader, Platonic! Marauders x reader, Platonic! Regulus Black x reader

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: Language

A/N: So this is my first request... I don’t know if I did what you imagined justice but this is what I came up with and I really hope you enjoy. 

Masterlist 

When you were placed into Gryffindor you thought it was a mistake. There was no way with your long line of Slytherin pureblood, that you'd be a Gryffindor. Not that you thought there was anything wrong with that. You never cared to live up to people's expectations or what people thought of you, even though your parents did. And despite your family's attempts at making you see their way, you never could. There was no superior bloodline, you were all equal. But you played your part so you wouldn't hear the lectures or deal with all the drama. You didn't partake in the bullying or the maltreatment of muggle-borns or half-bloods like every other pureblood; you didn't see the need. You kind of just stood by or left whenever your friends would tantalize others.

However, when you got sorted you weren't the silent one while others bullied and tortured others who weren't deemed worthy in the eyes; you were the one getting bullied. The first few years you wanted to fight back but eventually, there were too many for you to handle. So you just dealt with it. At the parties that the pureblood families had thrown-- which your family was invited to-- your parents had advised you to try to blend in and not draw attention to yourself. For the most part, you did.

Regulus, your best friend tried to get you out of your shell. You tried to convince him that it wasn't you but your parents. You would've love to enjoy yourself at the parties, being dressed up and all that. But with your situation, you couldn't afford to make a fool out of yourself, and drinking firewhiskey in different rooms or sneaking off to where your parents couldn't keep an eye on you, wasn't a good idea. When you and Regulus were older your parents had set an arranged marriage between you two. Uniting rich and powerful families and all that. But You and Regulus were just the best of friends, always together. And just like everything else, that had to change. You now had to find ways to see each other in hidden places. Never to be seen together in front of students or staff in case it would get back to your parents. In Hogwarts you ignored each other, magically passing notes to update each other on your well-being. It was tough but you managed. Regulus was your only friend after all.

~~~

It was just another day at Hogwarts, You were avoiding Bellatrix Lestrange. Your main terrorizer. She had a group of Slytherins trailing her. Ever since you got sorted into Gryffindor every pureblood who was in Slytherin, taunted and teased you to no end. They jinxed you and called you weak. Saying things about how you weren't one of them. You knew that much but you didn't need the constant reminder.

Bellatrix and her group were right behind you as you were walking to the Gryffindor common room. You cursed in your mind, they saw you.

"Going somewhere L/N?" You ignored her. "You know it's rude to not answer your superiors."

"I'm not trying to bother anyone Bellatrix." You sighed but kept walking.

"Your presence alone bothers me." She sent a spell your way to catch your attention.

"Are you crazy?" You turned to face her, Your voice raising a bit. An amused smile played on her lips, she tilted her head to the side.

"You have no idea what crazy looks like Y/N/N." She stalked towards you in a predatory way.

"We grew up together Bellatrix," You slowly backed away from her so as to not set her off. "Name-calling and pranks are one thing but curses..."

You didn't know what you did to cause the special attention that others like first years or Muggle-borns got from Bellatrix. Sure you were never that close, you always got along better with Andromeda than Narcissa and the former, but never would you have thought that you'd be on the receiving end of her fury over blood status. This was outrageous you thought to yourself. How could anyone be this upset over what house people are in?

"Don't worry, after a while, they won't hurt." Your blood started to rush through your veins and a shiver ran down your spine. You stopped walking backward when you bumped into something behind you. A pair of arms held you to keep you steady. You turned around expecting another one of Bellatrix's "friends" only to be met with a tall, shaggy-haired boy.

Sirius Black, your best friend's older brother, who just so happened to be in your house. Relief washed over you. You were no longer outnumbered. Sirius and his group of Marauders were there. Surely they wouldn't just walk away from a fellow Gryffindor in trouble. Of course you never really had an affiliation with them besides the same color robes but they were good people, weren't they?

"We heard something about pranks?" James spoke.

Bellatrix scoffed, "This is none of your business Potter."

"Well Bellatrix considering how Y/N is a member of our house, it does make this our business," Remus replied. She cackled, "How fitting the two blood-traitors in one pitiful little group." She signaled the others to follow her and walked away.

"Are you alright?" Sirius asked, not letting go of your shoulders.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"C'mon we were just going back to the common room." He let go of your shoulders but tugged on the sleeve of your robe to follow them.

"What did you do to cause the wrath of crazy over there?" James questioned. He led the way to the common room, you kept your distance not really trusting any of them. Their reputation for being the school's signature pranksters didn't ease your mind as you walked with them. You never held a conversation with any of them before today, maybe a few with Remus but he was the only sane one out of all of them, it made sense that you were wary of their presence. Who knows what they had planned.

"Does anyone have to do anything at all to provoke her?" Sirius snorted, you gave him a questioning look and he just shrugged.

"No, I suppose not."

"Well Y/N I guess you could call yourself lucky your knight in shining armors were there to save the day." James' cocky smile written on his face assuming he was right.

"Although I appreciate the help, I could've handled myself." You stepped into the portrait hole, anxious to get back into your dorm room and take a nap.

"Not against all of them, you know sometimes you need to run in a pack L/N, you could get killed without one."

"You make it sound like we're wolves," you stated, each attempt to get back to your room was failed by every comment James made. What was his point?

"Some of us aren't," Sirius commented. You noticed Remus got tense and slightly shook his head.

"Point is Bellatrix and her groupies aren't going to quit bothering you and we want to help." James offered.

"What's the catch?"

"Why does there have to be catch? We want to be your friends." Sirius answered and plopped down on the chair across from the couch where you were sitting. You gave him a dead look. "Just think about it, hm?"

"Whatever." You got up from your seat and went to your dorm to take your well-needed nap.

Later that night you went down to the common room to read by the fire until you fell asleep. You felt like you'd only closed your eyes for 2 seconds when you were rudely awakened by Sirius.

"What?" You hissed. His mischievous grin made you want to slap him.

"You're coming with me." He took the blanket that you had wrapped around you, off.

"No." You said simply, reaching for the blanket again. Just as your eyes were beginning to close again you heard him say, "Yes."

He lifted you in his arms and you dramatically fell limp. "What the hell." You groaned loudly.

"Shh you're going to people up," You glared at him.

"Maybe they should wake up since I'm being kidnapped!" He rolled his eyes. You jumped from his arms so you could stand on your own.

"Where are we going?" You asked, Slowly recovering from being awoken.

"You'll see." That was all he responded as he continued to guide you out of the portrait hole and through the halls. You were anxious, in all the years of Hogwarts you never went out past curfew so you didn't know the chances of being caught and getting in trouble.

"Sirius, Filch may be out here." You warned.

"We'll be fine Y/N/N just trust me."

"I don't trust you that's my problem." You muttered. He turned around and looked at you. His piercing grey eyes shining in the darkness. He pulled out a long cloak from who knows where and wrapped it around the both of you, causing you to be closer together.

"This will keep us hidden so Filch won't catch us." The weight in your chest lifted and now replaced by butterflies. You inhaled sharply at the close proximity.

"You alright?"

You nodded, which gave him the confirmation he needed to continue, "Let's go."

When you made it to your destination you gasped. The astronomy tower, "Wow" you whispered, shedding yourself from the cloak. The night sky hadn't looked as beautiful as it did at that very moment. You've been here for class but you've never seen the stars so bright, you wondered what special cosmic event it must've been for the night sky to look the way it did.

You whipped around remembering who you were here with, you crossed your arms, "Why did you bring me here?"

"I can't take you sight-seeing now?"

"I had this class yesterday, this is hardly what I'd call sight-seeing." You arched a brow upwards. "Besides we're not exactly friends..." He gasped and feigned hurt by putting a hand over his heart.

"After all we've been through?" You rolled your eyes. He continued, "I was hoping we could change that. The boys and I have noticed you've been struggling socially and don't really play well with others, but I've seen the way you interacted with my brother before Hogwarts and you enjoy the company. I had to wonder why is it that you don't have that many friends?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but since I got sorted into Gryffindor my old "friends" and family haven't been that accepting considering the fact that they're all Slytherins, I mean you should know how it is." You sighed and took a seat resting your back against a wall facing the night sky. "The people I used to get along with, well, their parents don't want them to spend time with me. As for not having friends in our house, nobody has tried to get to know me, they just assume I'm like the other Slytherins even though I was placed here for a reason." You scoffed, people truly were ridiculous. "It sucks cause every side thinks I've chosen to be apart of what they go against when in reality I'm not apart of anything."

He stared at you, you then realized that you went on a full-on rant and nervously looked down, picking at your nails. He'd been silent the entire time listening. It was nice, "You could be apart of us."

You were skeptical, "Sirius this isn't funny." You moved to get up.

"It's not a joke Y/N." He chuckled.

"You're not being very convincing right now."

"Why would I lie to you?"

"We've barely spoken to each other in all these years of Hogwarts, even before Hogwarts!" you threw your hands in the hair. "I went over your house for playdates with Reg and never had one conversation. You and your friends have a reputation for pranks, How do I know this isn't one of them?"

"Because I'm not trying to prank you Y/n, in fact, I'm trying to help you. We all are." He put his hands on your shoulders to get you to look at him. "I know how it feels to be all alone in a world like that. To be in an environment where you feel uncomfortable with those people. Knowing all the wrong things they say and not being able to say anything because they'll disown you."

"The difference between you and me is that you got out." You shoved his hands off your shoulders. "Not all of us have a James."

"Y/n-"

"I'll think about it." With that, you left, not caring if you were to get caught.

If you were being honest the reason why you didn't want to be friends with the marauders was that they had 3 years to be friends with you, you knew Sirius from years prior. Why didn't he come to you sooner? Knowing you had been friends with his little brother. He just sat there and watched while you spent the first 3 and a half years of what should've been the most fun years of your life at Hogwarts, lonely and sad. If his defense was that he could sympathize with your situation and that he wanted to help; why didn't he approach you sooner? Also, you might've been a little bitter about him having a place to go to while you still had to stay with your parents.

~~~

You did think about after that Night with Sirius, you decided you give them a chance. You wouldn't be cornered alone anymore or hopefully cornered at all. You would have a group now. You also thought it was great that you had someone you could relate to in the group and someone that you somewhat knew. You never thought that you'd be actual friends with your childhood crush, even if that was your best friend's older brother and you'd spend more time in his house than your own most days; but here you were.

Being a part of the Marauders was fun, you were practically family now. They let you in on their little secret; with Remus' permission of course. They informed you of his full moon situation. They offered to help you become an animagus, which you denied, you didn't want to deal with all of that. You helped James with Lily, it wasn't easy but it worked somehow. You would help them with their pranks. They pulled pranks on the people who used to bully you all the time which you appreciated greatly. It was nice knowing they had your back and they knew you had theirs.

Nobody messed with you now and you gained a few more friends now. Lily, Alice, Dorcas, and Mary. It was all great. Except for your growing crush on a certain Marauder. With every moment you spent with him your heart swelled, it wasn't a great idea to get involved with him in that way. You were his brothers best friend, he'd seen you grow up, and took you under his wing when you were in need (you always thought even if he truly wanted to be your friend, it was a sort of favor for Regulus since he couldn't be there) there was no way he would be interested in you. But you had always hoped.

You remembered one Christmas that your parents had forced you to go to a party that the Malfoys would throw annually. It was terrible. You didn't have your friends there with you and Regulus couldn't talk to you with his parents watching. The blacks were suspicious of you spending more time with their son, who they disowned and like every other parent at that party, they didn't want Regulus to associate with you. So you were alone again. The only perk of this entire thing was you didn't have to completely show your face since it was a masquerade ball theme.

Evan Rosier came up to you, your eyes narrowed and you tilted your head in question. "Shame you spend your time with those blood traitors Y/N, I would have asked you out."

"I think I lucked out on that one Rosier." You took a sip from your drink shifting your gaze to somewhere else.

"You filthy little-"

"Careful what your next words are, my friend, I don't think Mummy and Daddy would appreciate it much." A voice that came from behind you said.

"You are not even supposed to be here, Black."

"Sirius!" You threw your arms around his neck, he wrapped his around your waist. You heard Evan scoff and leave.

"Y/N darling, have I told you that you attract way too much trouble."

"No, but I'm starting to think you're right." You pulled away from him, realizing that you were in the eyesight of your parents. "What are you doing here? Your parents will kill you if they see you here."

"I couldn't let you come here alone, with all these people." He looked around with distaste.

"Alright well, we have to find a more private place so you won't get caught." You grabbed his hand in yours and led the way to the maze garden.

"Y/N if you wanted to get into my pants, all you had to do was ask." He wiggled his eyebrows, You shoved him away. "Gross."

"Okay so I didn't tell you this but James and I are breaking you out of here."

"How the hell are you planning on doing that?"

"Easy, a distraction." You were about to ask what the distraction was when you saw a stag through the windows. Screams of the people were coming from the inside. You put a hand over your mouth to cover your smile. You did not expect that at all. Sirius retook your hand and pulled you deeper into the maze when the guests were filing out.

You stopped when you were finally in the middle, there was an enchanted fountain spewing water. you had a rush of energy and laughed. Sirius was looking down at you.

"Where'd James go?"

"He should be coming soon." He replied. It was quiet for a while before Sirius scooped up water from the fountain and threw it at you. You gasped, "You asshole!"

You dipped your hand in the water and flicked it at him. This started a war between the two of you. You ducked behind the fountain and threw water at him whenever you got the chance and he did the same. It wasn't until you heard footsteps coming that you stopped.

"Y/N?" You remembered that voice, you whipped around quickly and almost fell into the water if it wasn't for Sirius who had put a hand on your back to catch you.

"Reg?" He ran to you and wrapped his arms around you, picking you up and twirling you around. Once he put you down he pulled you away at arm's length to observe you.

"You're wet." He stated, confused.

"Water fight." you smile into the response. He laughed and threw his head back.

"Only you." Sirius coughed, you almost forgot he was there.

"Hello, brother." Regulus nodded to him. "It's been a while, I've missed you."

"Have you?" You gave Sirius a look, now was not the time. This was the first time you've seen Regulus in months, years even. You didn't need them to argue.

"We should talk." He suggested, You agreed and strolled along the maze with Regulus, noticing that the guests have all returned inside.  

"So you escaped your parents." You started talking.

"So I did." he glanced at you. "But only for a bit, they'll start to wonder where I've gone. I just needed to see you."

"Yeah me too."

"I just wanted to let you know that I can't write to you anymore." Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Why not?"

"It's not safe."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Just know things are about to get serious and dangerous and I have to do things that I know you won't agree with to keep you safe."

"Reg, I-I don't know what you're saying."

"Soon enough you will." He stopped walking. "I needed you to know before I cut ties with you, that I love you. You're my best friend and I never want you to get hurt." You felt the tears forming.

"I love you too." He caresses your cheek and kisses them both before saying his final Goodbye. You were left standing there trying to decipher his words.

Eventually, you found yourself back where you and Sirius were playing with water. He was sitting on the edge of the fountain. He stood up when he saw you and your tearstained cheeks. He wrapped you in a hug.

"I'm glad you came." You whispered, hugging him back. He kissed the top of your head and told you that it was time to go. You went to James' house, you spent Christmas and summers there from then on. You never returned home. You slept in the guest bedroom and Sirius stayed with James in his room. Your parents sent you a letter telling you that you were no longer welcome at their house since you chose to associate yourself with bad company that was ruining their reputation. You didn't care much about it, knowing you had a better family now.

It wasn't until you graduated from Hogwarts that you figured out what Regulus was talking about. The war was getting more serious, Lily and James had to go into hiding, you and Sirius had joined the order, you became partners on missions, your bond growing more and more every day.

~~~

"There's too many of them Y/N we need to go back to headquarters!" Sirius yelled over the sounds of fighting. This was supposed to be a quick mission to find out where Voldemort was going to attack next. Hopefully saving a family and your best friends. But as always nothing went according to plan, you didn't drink enough poly juice potion that let you take the face of a death eater that you and Sirius had captured. You didn't bring the flask with you so in the middle of asking questions you transformed back into your true form, which then brought on the fighting.

"No! You go and get the others," A curse was sent your way, you blocked it. "I can fight them off in the meantime!"

"There's no way I'm leaving you with all of these death eaters!"

"Well I'm not going, we just need to catch one and get the information we need!" You continued to duel with Evan Rosier who was easily blocking all of your offensive spells. 'Shit' was all you thought. Six against two were not great odds and you were getting tired. Sirius made a point of retreating. If you were to leave now, you lost the element of surprise and they would be expecting you next time. That or they would retaliate. Great just great, all because you forgot to bring extra poly juice potion.

"Now is not the time to play hero, we can try another day." He took your hand and apparated you to a random alley in another part of London, but not before you were struck with a stinging spell.

"Fuck-" Tears stung in your eyes, Sirius was rushing towards you screaming your name.

The next thing you know you were waking up in a bright room. You assumed you were at St. Mungos. Memories of the moments before you were brought her played in your head. You slowly opened your eyes you turned your head to the sound of snoring. Sirius was sitting in a chair beside your bed. Despite feeling like shit you decided to throw a pillow at his head to wake him up. He sat up quickly, eyes wide staring at you.

"What the fuck?"

"Even when you're asleep you are annoying."

"I'm sorry I was up all night taking care of your dumb-ass."

"Apology accepted." You broke into a smile when you saw his face. He was so...serious. You could never let go of that joke.

"I'm not joking around, you were bad like so bad I thought I lost you."

"Siri-" You sat up in your bed.

"No Y/N I don't think you understand how serious this situation was. You had seizures and might've slipped into a coma. You've been in and out for days now." Your smile faded. "I-I thought I was going to lose you and I can't, not you." He shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

"Sirius, we all get injured, it happens. It's apart of the job."

"Yes but you're different."

"How? How is it any different than if this were to happen to Remus or James or any of the others?"

"Because I love you!" You tried to process his words. He searched your eyes for any response but you were in shock. He spoke softly, "It's different from the others because I am in love with you. I have been for a while.

"You don't have to say it back, you probably don't-" You grabbed him by the collar of his leather jacket and kissed him.

"You're an idiot." You kiss him once more and looked him in the eyes and said "I'm in love with you too."

Tags: @divergirl99

[tsuzuruteeth]

Vil Rant: Why His Overblot was Valid

So I’ve seen a lot of not so hot takes on Vil’s overblot. Some people believe that his reason for overblot wasn’t good enough in comparison to the others. Most of the others overblotted due to some trauma from their childhood that never really got resolved to sum it up very vaguely. Vil on the other hand, it seemingly wasn’t like that. Vil’s overblot was due to envy. Pure envy. 

Or was it?

It wasn’t. So as the resident Vil stan, I am going to take my time to explain why Vil’s overblot made sense and it isn’t as petty as some people think it is. 

Vil himself is a very mischaracterized character, so it’s no surprise that people are not seeing the full picture. 

Vil’s whole character is based on hard work. Most people would assume it’s beauty but it isn’t, at least not fully. For Vil, beauty isn’t his end goal but a tool to achieve his end goal, this is made clear in his overblot flashback. Now some people might not be convinced, but this isn’t a character analysis, so I’m not going to delve too deep into his values and why they’re his values for now. 

So the reason he overblotted, for the people who take Vil at face value anyway instead of learning his motives, is because he was jealous Neige was more beautiful than him. He overblotted out of envy because he couldn’t stand being second best. 

Now this isn’t wrong, but it isn’t the full picture. Too see the full thing playout I’m gonna run through a little Vil timeline with you. And “because I am so kind” and I know not everyone out there is a fan of Vil, so probably wouldn’t take the time to read his personal stories, I will stick to things mentioned in chapter 5. 

So starting from Vil’s childhood. We see this part in his overblot flashback but even as a child Vil would always get villain roles and because of this he is ostracized by the other children, apart from Jack (Just as a reference this is also mentioned in his robes sr personal story).  This didn’t really bother Vil much from what we saw, but it showed us that Vil was a bit more mature for his age, as being in the industry he probably had to be. 

Next thing we see is how Neige always gets the main parts while Vil is always the villain. So this is where Vil’s envy of Neige starts. However, at this stage in his life it’s not about his beauty, it’s because he gets the roles Vil wants. Vil then goes on to talk about how all he wants is to be the heroine for once, yet he knows this will never happen. He is mature enough to realise that life doesn't work that way, no matter how hard you work something can never be achieved, hence his frustration begins.

So throughout Chapter 5 we can see Neige be mentioned and Vil’s vows to defeat him. He constantly asks Mira about the beauty rankings only to see Neige be number one. Which doesn’t seem such a big deal at first, until you think about how much hard work Vil puts in. Although, if you think about it, it’s still a bit petty at this stage, which is why it doesn’t cause overblot just yet. However, it does make his previous childhood frustration towards Neige grow. 

Another thing that I feel I should mention quickly, is that Vil personally doesn’t really have anything against Neige himself per say, if it was someone else in Neige’s place he would be salty towards them. He really just hates the situation and circumstances, not Neige as a person. 

Anyway back to the timeline. This is where it starts to go wrong. The VDC rehearsal. Vil put effort into the performance. We saw how strict he was, how dedicated he was to make sure everything was perfect. He put his all into it. He even made the song and dance himself, and played a key role in the actual performance. He made that performance to perfection. He even was number one on the search results for the word “beauty”! Only for everyone to fuss over Neige. Neige did a remix of a nursery rhyme and it is mentioned that the choreo wasn’t in sync.When Vil checked Mira again, Neige was back to number one. This is what tipped Vil over the edge. 

I have seen some people claim that his actions were uncalled for and petty, because music isn’t just about being perfect, it’s for having fun and making everyone else enjoy your performance too! You don’t need to be perfect to perform well and make the audience love you! Vil should hold himself to lesser standards and realise it’s not a competition, everyone is beautiful and talented in their own way!

I see your point. I really do. But, I think you need to change your perspective a little to see what really is going on. 

Put yourself in Vil’s shoes for example. Imagine you worked really hard on something, like an art project. You slaved weeks over it, making sure it was the best quality it can be. Finally you put it into a competition. Only to be beat out with a drawing that is half complete and was finished the night before. Could you manage to tell yourself to just let it go? There’s value in all art right? So shouldn’t you just be happy for the winner? It might be the right thing to do, but can you honestly say that you wouldn’t be absolutely seething inside? After all you went through? All that effort? I know for a fact I would be fuming with rage. Maybe I’m just a bad, selfish person but it's true. Although I think most people would at least be a little upset at this outcome. And Vil was.

Now you may agree with my point above, but how does that justify Vil trying to KILL Neige? That’s the beauty of it. It doesn’t. Just like Riddle, all of Vil’s views came crashing down before him the moment people started to fawn over Neige. 

He always thought that hard work would get you to where you need to be, but he worked as hard as he could yet he still failed. Instead someone who hasn’t worked hard, someone who didn’t take the VDC seriously, someone who was only there for fun, beat him out. It didn’t help that he was given hope by being number one, only to have that hope snatched from him right after Neige performed. What is he supposed to do now? If he can’t beat Neige with talent, if he can’t beat Neige with hard work, how will he beat Neige? Easy. All he has to do is get rid of Neige. 

So yes, trying to kill Neige was extreme, but to Vil, that was the only way he thought he could beat him. 

You might be wondering why is it a competition in the first place? Simply because that’s the type of person Vil is. He doesn’t want to be second best, he’s a perfectionist so the only number that matters is being number one. 

But this doesn’t cause his overblot. This isn’t the snapping point for Vil. The snapping point was him realising what he had done, what he was about to do. He was about to do something ugly. He even mentions that it doesn’t matter if everyone forgives him, he can’t forgive himself. Then, he overblots. 

So, Vil’s overblot was a combination of frustration, high expectations and just all together feeling like he isn’t good enough. It’s probably the most relatable overblot so far, as I’m sure we’ve all been in a position where we’ve snapped because something seems hopeless no matter how hard we try. It’s easy to tell someone to stop holding themselves to such high standards, but as the saying goes, it’s easier said than done.

In terms of his after overblot, I don’t see Vil lessinging his normal standards, he will still try his best and make sure everyone around him does the same. He just maybe won’t compare himself to others as much. 

In conclusion, Vil’s overblot wasn’t uncalled for or petty, it actually made perfect sense. Thanks for listening or should I say reading my Ted Talk.