#don't look at me don't perceive me NOTHING IS HAPPENING HERE

[lovinglin]

oh

UNDER THE CUT BC HIOLGSDHFSJDFEKJSFKDFE

I DIDN'T EXPECT MYSELF TO LIKE THIS BUT.,,THRJ., HI.,,., STANLEY PARABLE ANYONE../???

Narrators so fucking funny, watching the gameplay for this is making me laugh so hard (the fanart fucks so hard as well /pos)

dear god don't look at me i. I don't know if I wanna be stanley or be with stanley

[a-simple-spiders-oc-dump]

The Kiddos From Universe 1 At Calypso Water Park

so one of my favourite character-building exercises I like to do is figure out how my OCs would act going to the theme park I used to go to a lot when I was in high school - Calypso Water Park. and while I've done this for the Realm Kiddos before, I haven't done it RECENTLY, and especially not since the canon shift. so fuck it!! we ball!!

Lydia is very much the Mom Friend of the group. She's the one who makes sure everyone's brought everything they need before heading out, and the one who pesters everyone to put on sunscreen (on Trinity's behalf). She's not the biggest fan of a lot of the slides, but she'll go on the smaller ones, especially if they're two-person slides and only one member of the group wants to go on 'em. Otherwise, she spends the day relaxing in the lazy river and spending time with Trinity to make sure she feels included. Probably gets a stomach ache from eating ice cream and then immediately getting roped into going on slides.

Sinclair is ADAMANT about going on literally every single slide in the park, probably bragging the whole time that these slides are child's play for them. In reality, they're fucking terrified of slides like Adrenaline (basically a straight drop), and completely chicken out at the Aqua Loops. They do get very competitive during races the group have on the Fast Track, and eventually it's just Sinclair and Sydney doing the ride over and over again until one of them is the definitive victor. The two bond afterwards over their bruised stomachs and somehow managing to steal the entirety of their meals (because both of them decided the food was super overpriced and thus it was stupid to pay for it).

Cynthia is largely just trying to keep track of everyone, since that's just instinct for her at this point, but after some time she starts to relax and do what she wants. I think the wave pool would be her favourite attraction, and she'd spend a bunch of time there just seeing how long she can last against the waves in the deep end of the pool (probably having a friendly competition with Dylan to see who can last the longest at least once.) She doesn't care too much for the slides, not because she's scared of them - they just don't really interest her. Still has a relatively good day against all odds!

Dylan is going fucking EVERYWHERE. He's doing Fast Track races with Sydney, Sinclair and the twins. He's going on Canyon Rafting with as much of the group as he can gather in one place. He's lounging in the lazy river. He's surviving the wave pool with Cynthia. He's eating a big hot dog and then immediately going back into it and then needs to rest on one of the lounge chairs in front of the wave pool because he gave himself a stomach cramp. Dylan is in his element here and he's having the TIME OF HIS LIFE. I think he might end up going into a bit of a funk for a few days afterwards because he got so much serotonin from this trip that he simply cannot get in his daily life. Plans on making this an annual event the second they leave the park at the end of the day.

Morgan loudly complains the whole time everyone is planning this excursion, calling it a waste of time, saying it's dumb baby shit, asking to stay home... But then everyone gets to the park and they learn that Morgan has a well-hidden thrill-seeking side. Sinclair TRIES to go on every slide in the park, but Morgan SUCCEEDS. Although, this comes with a downside... There are multiple slides that require two people that only Sinclair, or worse, Sydney are willing to go on with her. She definitely bullies Sinclair over being scared of the Aqua Loops and rubs it in their face when she does it, like, "see? I survived the big scary plastic slides. coward." Sinclair will probably seethe over this for the next week.

Sydney. is. fucking. ELATED. You just brought the Realm's biggest thrill-seeker to a water park that claims to have the fastest slides in the world! Peak enrichment!! Much like Dylan, she's absolutely everywhere, and it's really hard to track her down. Much like Morgan, she also goes on every single ride in the park, minus a couple because she got so caught up with the Fast Track bullshit. She and Sinclair get to do crime together too, which is just a nice bonus. She does get some weird looks due to her extensive scars, because sometimes people suck, but Sydney Could Not Care Less About This, There Are Slides To Be Conquered And Friends To Compete With Over Stupid Shit.

Trinity is deathly afraid of heights. This means basically every slide is off-limits for her. Additionally, she's pretty self-conscious about her death scar on her neck, and this doesn't help her social anxiety much. Mostly just sticks to Lydia, Dylan, Cynthia or Morgan's sides for the majority of the trip, watching everyone else have fun, but after a bit Bianca and Troy coax her to come with them to Pirate's Aquaplay and she starts to really enjoy herself. The three of them go under the bigass bucket there together (because when you go to Calypso you HAVE to step under the bucket) and the twins keep her from getting knocked over by the water, and it's the loudest anyone's heard Trinity laugh before.

Bianca desperately WANTS to keep up with Sydney but. holy shit. that's a LOT of slides. Her paranoia kinda ebbs and flows throughout the day regarding Troy, because on one hand, More People = More People Who Could Hurt Him, but on the other hand... who'd kill a kid surrounded by so many people?? (The latter reasoning is mostly her trying to fight that shit off with a metaphorical stick for the sake of actually being able to enjoy her day. It... only kind of works, much to her own chagrin.) And, at the very least, the two spend most of their day with Sydney, who Bianca full-heartedly trusts. (Maybe not to keep them safe from over-exertion, but at least to keep them safe from anyone who might try to hurt either twin.) She joins Troy in his gremlin antics at Pirate's Aquaplay, and is the one to suggest that Trinity come and join them to experience The Bucket. She heads to the gift shop early while Troy and Sydney are hanging out and gets everyone surprisingly thoughtful souvenirs from the day.

Troy is that little shit who goes to Pirate's Aquaplay and dumps the mini-buckets on kids' heads when they pass under it. I know this, because I was that little shit when I was a kid, and I know it's exactly the kind of thing Troy would love. A lot of the slides scare him more than he's willing to admit, and he especially hates any of the covered slides because they make him feel claustrophobic, but the big exception to this is the Turbo Lab. Partially due to the theming, partially due to the fact that they aren't super fast or tall slides, and partially because the ones he likes best are ones he can go on with his friends. By and large, though, he's mostly just following the group and joining in on activities like Canyon Rafting and Fast Track races. I like to think he and Bianca also make a bet on whether they can last more than five minutes in the kiddie pool without being kicked out. They barely even last a minute.

Gamma got volunteered by Alice to be a chaperone. He fucking hates it. Not just because it's REALLY hard to keep track of nine humans when they're all going on different rides on different ends of the park, not just because there are more people in the park that day than Gamma's seen in his entire life, but because Gamma has a secret phobia of drowning/being underwater. Being around this much water? That's hell to him. Either Alice or Sinclair has to explain the concept of a "lifeguard" to him to keep him from spontaneously combusting out of stress, and he can't look at the wave pool without his stomach twisting up in knots. Also? He refuses to wear swimwear. He's still in his fucking suit. He only vaguely understands why he's getting strange looks from everyone. Needless to say, Gamma does not have fun, but the humans had a great time and no one got seriously hurt, and once it's all over, that's all that truly matters to him. (He still needs to take a day or two to recover tho, because being hyper-vigilant for that long is fucking exhausting. And by 'take a day' I mean he spends a little more time than usual reading between patrolling the woods and making sure his siblings do their jobs, because Gamma doesn't understand that he can take a sick day without everything exploding, so there's no way he's taking a mental health day voluntarily.)

Alice would fucking LOOOOOOVE to go, but because of the Mechanics Of How Realms Work, she physically cannot. (The humans obviously can't go back to their homeworld, so they have to go to a different Reality in order to go to Calypso, and Alice is shackled to her Realm and the Reality it branched off from. I'm torn between it being a "if I leave I die instantly and I Do Not Want That" situation or "yeah I've got a built-in aversion to leaving this place that's kind of like a primal fear and I'm Not Fucking With That" situation. Could be both!) She still makes an adorable swimsuit for herself just for fun and watches everyone's day through portals while eating popcorn. She also spends a good amount of time talking with Gamma over his communication device whenever he starts getting overwhelmed by the. fucking EVERYTHING happening that day. Absolutely gets him to bring her back a souvenir from the park. (Oh, also, the group circumvents the money issue via Alice basically creating counterfeit money. Hey, they're only there for a day! What are the cops gonna do, track them down across time and space for a couple of forged twenties?)

[kettlefire]

Booo-merang Trouble DP x DC Idea

Okay but leeching off the idea that Jason gives off an ecto-signature, and I probably saw a post about this somewhere. I just for the love of me can't find it. If anyone knows it, please link it so I can credit!:

Jason isn't even on patrol, he's visiting the manor. His chilling, eating away at lunch. He doesn't come to the manor often, but he always needs a dose of his crazy family every once in a while. There's no way he'd stay away from Alred's cookies for long.

Then boom, something shatters the window behind him. On instinct, Jason moves. Taking cover and trying to get a sight of the situation. Of the perceived attack. However, before Jason could do much a heavy object rams into his chest before landing on the ground before him. It doesn't really hurt, nothing compared to his prior injuries.

A boomerang. A glowing green and silver boomerang laid on the ground before him. Jason's a million and one ways confused as he stared at the device. His hands carefully picking it up, and looking over the softly beeping device.

Jason thinks maybe it's a bomb, but something in his gut says otherwise. He can think of a million different things it could be. Maybe one of the rogues got a hold of their DNA, and it tracked them. Maybe it's going to expel a gas any moment, an attack on the Waynes rather than their vigilante personas.

Except it's none of that. The beeping stops and suddenly a robotic voice sounds from the boomerang.

"Ghost located, prepare for your end ghoul."

Jason tenses once again at the clear threat in those words. His gaze scans around the kitchen, still crouched behind the kitchen counter. Except nothing happens.

Except for a voice ringing out from the boomerang once again. This time, this time it's not a robot. It's a clear record of a young woman speaking. Her voice filled with fear, concern, and urgency.

"Okay, this should work right? You know what, that doesn't matter. No one but you should have a signature. Beside's Tucker thinks he set this up to go to you only. So Danny, you should be hearing this..."

Jason only finds himself more confused. The urgency in this girl's voice was enough to keep his nerves on edge. It sounded important, but Jason had no clue who these people are. Who these names could be refering to.

"Danny... Things here aren't doing to good. Look, I know why you left. You have every reason to. What mom and dad did... It's unforgivable and I don't expect you to come back. But, thing is..."

There's a lull in the recording. The distant sound of soft chatting. If Jason strained his ears, he could somewhat pick of the sound of another woman and man.

"Everyone thinks Phantom is dead. Which I would think is a good thing, but it's not. Danny, the GIW is on a rampage now that you aren't here. Mom and dad are on their side..."

Jason made the conclusion that the speaker was this Danny's sister. The message was intended for him, yet it somehow landed in Jason's lap.

"They have everyone locked up in the school... Radars to see if anyone has a signature, and if they do... They separate them from everyone else."

Jason's brows furrowed, finally pulling himself to a stand. He placed the boomerang on the kitchen counter. Leaning forward as he took in the words.

"We don't know what they are doing. Sam, Tucker, and Valerie... We're all hiding. We'll have the highest signatures, and... Listen Danny..."

Jason had a growing pit in his gut. He knew something wasn't right. These people were in danger. It didn't matter he didn't know about what, or who the GIW was, but these people needed help.

"... We need you. We need Phantom, baby bro. I'm sorry, I know you're still recovering. We can handle things here, but please. Please tell me you're still alive, you're in Gotham right? Tell me you're safe, and you're healing and still kicking Danny."

Jason swallowed, placing his hands flat on the kitchen counter. He needed to get this down to the cave. Have the computer tracked where it came from. But Jason couldn't move, not at the sound of pure desperation in this woman's voice.

"I just need to know you at least made it out of this nightmare. I don't care how you do it, just please let me know things are okay... They have... They have Vlad, Danny. Things are complicated, and I hate to put this on you... But Amity needs Phantom..."

The recorded suddenly broke into static, but Jason thinks he got enough of what he needed. Amity. The place these people were was called Amity. It gave him a lead, something for them to work with.

"Da... We... Help... They..."

Jason could hear the woman's voice breaking through the static. He gripped the boomerang, turning on his heels and heading towards the cave.

"Sam... Mom... Tech... I..."

Every broken word only fueled Jason's own urgency. Jason felt a strange urge, a connection. Something that told him he had to help. They needed to help. The boomerang found him, and that had to mean something.

"... I love you, Danny..."

Those four words were the clearest compared to rhe rest of it. It made Jason's heart seize, and he took a breath. He was going to help.

It didn't matter if Jason didn't know these people. If they weren't from Gotham. This was important, and something told Jason he needed to find this Danny.

Danny would be the only one that would know that to do. If Jason manages to rewind the recording, he was certain Bruce would be equally on board.

That voice, the emotions that dripped from it. It gave the sense that this wasn't just life or death. This was a world ending problem.

And Jason would be damned if he ignored it.

[doumadono]

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

The war was over, but the scars it left behind were far from healed, both physical and emotional.

Bakugo lay in the hospital bed, his body covered in bandages, his mind foggy from the painkillers.

The room was quiet, the beeping of machines the only sound as you sat beside him, waiting for him to wake up. Your heart was heavy with the knowledge of the painful news you had to deliver when he woke.

Slowly, Bakugo's eyes fluttered open, confusion and disorientation clear in his gaze. “Where... where am I?" he muttered, his voice hoarse and weak.

You leaned closer, taking his hand in yours. "You're in the hospital, Katsuki.”

His eyes narrowed as he tried to sit up, wincing in pain. "What happened?"

You took a deep breath, holding his remaining hand. "Katsuki, there's something you need to know."

His eyes, still foggy, tried to focus on you. "Spit it out," he muttered, impatience tinged with a hint of fear.

"Your arm," you began, struggling to keep your voice steady. "They couldn't save it. It was too damaged."

Bakugo's gaze darted around the room, panic rising as he tried to move his right arm and found it wouldn't respond. "What the hell?" he gasped, looking down at the empty space where his arm used to be. "What... What the fuck!"

Tears filled your eyes as you squeezed his remaining hand. "I'm so sorry," you whispered, barely moving your lips, tears welling up in your eyes. "They did everything they could."

Bakugo's face contorted with a mix of disbelief and rage. "My quirk... it was in my palms. How am I supposed to be a hero now? No... no, no, no!" he shouted, struggling to sit up, only to fall back onto the bed, his body too weak to support him. "This can't be happening!"

You tried to hold him, to calm him, but he pushed you away with his remaining hand, his eyes wild with fear and anger. "Get away from me!"

"Katsuki, please," you begged, tears streaming down your face as you reached out your hand to place it on his shoulder. "I'm here for you. We can get through this together. We’ll find a way…"

Bakugo screamed, his voice breaking. "Don’t touch me! I'm useless! I'm fucking nothing! And you want to find a way?" he scoffed, his voice rising. "There is no way! I'm useless without my quirk!"

His words cut deep, but you refused to give up on him. "You're still a hero, Katsuki. You're still the strongest person I know…”

He turned his face away, tears of rage and frustration streaming down his cheeks. "Just leave me alone, woman. I want to be fucking alone. Get the fuck out!”

You left the room, your heart shattered and tears streaming down your flushed cheeks, but you vowed to yourself that you wouldn't give up on him.

Days turned into weeks, and Bakugo's anger only seemed to grow. He lashed out at everyone, pushing away those who tried to help. Bakugo's mood grew darker as he struggled to come to terms with his loss.

He spent hours in physical therapy, not to regain strength, but to punish himself for his perceived weakness.

One evening, you found him in the hospital gym, punching a bag with his remaining hand until his knuckles bled. 

"Katsuki, stop!" you gasped, covering your mouth with curled palm.

He ignored you, his breath coming in ragged gasps, tears mingling with sweat. "I can't... I can't do this," he panted.

You approached him quickly, and grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at you. "You're destroying yourself. This isn't helping."

"And what do you think you know?" he spat, his eyes wild. "You still have both your arms. You still can live and enjoy your sweet life, goddammit!”

“And I want to live it with you," you said fiercely, refusing to let go. "But you need to let me in. You need to let me help you."

His anger gave way to despair, and he sank to the floor, covering his face with his hand. "I don't know how."

You knelt beside him, wrapping your arms around him. "We'll figure it out together. You're not alone, Katsuki. Not ever."

Slowly, painfully, Bakugo began to accept your help, allowing you to be his support as he navigated this new reality.

Everyone, including you, his parents and his friends stood by his side through it all, offering support, encouragement, and love.

The therapy sessions became less about punishing himself and more about finding a way to live again.

Slowly but surely, Bakugo regained his confidence, finding new ways to use his quirk and his skills to remain a hero. He still had moments of doubt, moments where he cursed his fate and his limitations.

Those moments became less frequent, replaced by a determination to rise above his challenges.

"I love you," he said one morning, out of the blue, as you approached him in front of the classroom, bringing him bento you’ve prepared for him.

You turned to him, surprised but pleased. "I love you too, Katsuki."

He smirked, a shadow of his old self shining through as he leaned forward and placed a tiny kiss to the top of your head, accepting the box. "I know. And I'm gonna prove to you that I'm still the best damn hero around."

You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I never doubted it for a second."

Bakugo found solace in the realization that he could still be the hero he always aspired to be.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 34

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Postpartum depression; allusions to child abuse; perceived child abuse - read with care

A/N: I am so sorry it has taken me this long! The move has really done a number on my mental health and I've been struggling to write anything substantial. I've taken some serious liberties with Georgia weather. If you noticed, no you didn't. Lol I don't hate Rick. His mindset isn't the greatest at this point. We know that. Just making sure everyone is aware that I love our deputy. Post partum depression is a real thing and it sucks. This chapter has some really angsty, dark tones, and should be read with care, especially toward the end (beginning at “Oh,hey.” She greeted, patting the ground next to her). I did lots of research and sadly, what transpires is a real thing that people do for reasons that aren't necessary. Please try to give Carol and reader some grace given the circumstances. But if you're sensitive to anything dealing with making a child uncomfortable, you might want to skip this. It gets a little heavy. I would be happy to give you a summary of what is happening if you would rather skip the last few paragraphs (see above where to stop reading). Just message me.

I love you all! Thank you for your patience with me.

You weren’t sure when it happened, when the switch flipped or the dial turned. All you knew is that every single time your daughter cried, you wanted to break down and sob with her. When you held her to your breast, you couldn’t look at her. You left her with Lori or Carol more and more, the looks they gave you annoyingly understanding. When you would hand her off to Daryl and walk away, you couldn’t bear to see that expression of befuddled dismalness. 

“Postpartum depression.” Carol finally said one bitterly cold morning. She was changing Birdie with swift movements, eager to shield her from the drafty atmosphere of the warehouse. 

You had your back to her—your face in your hands—while you silently cried, two small bottles of breast milk sitting at your feet, still attached to the manual pumps. Sniffling, you glanced over your shoulder just as she placed the shifting blanketed bundle against her shoulder. “I hate my baby, Carol.” You whimpered. “That’s more than depression.”

The silver-haired lady shook her head. “Honey, I promise you don’t hate her.” 

“I don’t want anything to do with her.” You bit back with more vexation than you had intended. “I can’t stand it when she cries. I just want Daryl to keep her away from me.” When she tilted her lips with that gentle smile, it took all you had not to chuck one of the bottles at her. What was wrong with you? Could she be right? Were you depressed?

“I went through this, sweetheart. It will pass.” When she offered you little Birdie, you reeled. “You can’t keep avoiding her.” She was right and you hated it. With a huffing breath, you accepted your daughter, distributing her small weight across your arm for her head to rest in the crook of your elbow. “I have an idea.”

You heaved a sigh, not really interested in whatever it was that Carol was going to suggest. You had to stop taking your frustrations out on the woman. And Lori. And Daryl. And especially little Birdie. She was perfect and you knew in your heart of hearts that you could never truly harbor anything other than unrelenting love for her. Yes. Carol was right. You were definitely depressed. 

“What?” You finally queried. 

“What’re you two doin’ in here?” You heard Daryl’s boots crossing the concrete floor until they stopped just behind you. His lips pressed gently against the crown of your head. “Hey.” You said nothing. So much for not taking things out on your fiancé. 

“Daryl, right on time.” Carol beamed. 

“For what?” The confusion was evident in his tone.

“Y/N pumped some milk for the baby. It won’t keep unless we get more snow and can store it in the drifts.” She informed. “Why don’t you feed the baby?”

“Feed ‘er? Like with a bottle?”

“Unless you’re miraculously lactating, yes. With a bottle.” There was a hint of jocularity in her tone. You could almost feel his glare without turning. 

“I mean—yeah, okay.” Annoyance momentarily forgotten, you focused on the uncertainty in your partner’s voice. You didn’t miss the tremble. Neither did Carol. 

“You’re gonna be fine, Daryl.” She said encouragingly. 

“Ain’t me m’worried ‘bout.” The archer mumbled as he circled around you. He was hesitant in reaching for Birdie, but took her into his arms immediately when you sat up straighter and shifted her. The movement must have upset your daughter, her little limbs flailing as Daryl positioned her in the bend of his arm. “Ain’t no need for all that fussin’, lil Bird. You’re gonna get fed.” His throat worked as he swallowed. “By somebody. May not be me after I screw this up.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re better with her than you give yourself credit for.” It came out flat and harsh, your default setting as of late. Still, one look at the expression that decorated Daryl’s features, you found yourself ashamed. “You’re a great father.” You added, softer and with sincerity. 

Daryl held your gaze and, for a moment,—for the first time in a long time—it was uncomfortable. When he nodded and turned to Carol, you were able to exhale, though your stomach remained in knots. 

“Gimme the thing, I guess.” He held out a hand and looked down at his daughter, her little face reddening. Her mouth opened with the slightest squeak. She was two seconds from shrieking. “Keep your diaper on, lil’ girl. It’s comin’.” Daryl gingerly bounced his arm, Birdie’s features smoothing out for a moment, just long enough for Carol to hand over the bottle. 

You found yourself leaning forward, biting your lip as if ready to spring into applause when he accomplished the “impossible” task. When you caught his gaze, both of you looking up at the same time, you sat back and cleared your throat. When had things become so awkward between the two of you? It was almost unbearable. 

“Tilt her up just a little.” Carol instructed. “Touch the nipple to her lip, she’ll—there you go.”

You heard the soft snort of Daryl’s laugh and let your eyes travel from Birdie—now happily suckling away at the bottle—to your fiance. His eyes were soft but excited, sparkling in a way you’d never before seen. His lips were tilted upward, only the slightest fraction. Smiling suited him. You wished he’d do it more often. 

“Told ya that ya wasn’t gonna starve. Slow down. Ain’t no one gonna take it away.” He babbled, scrunching his nose with that smile still adorned. Was he even aware that he was lowering himself to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of you? You didn’t think so. At that moment, no one else existed to him; just a father and his little bird. 

You only felt the smile on your own face when you looked over to find Carol watching not Daryl and Birdie but you. With a soft, knowing expression, she mouthed see? And see, you did. You nodded, tears stinging behind your eyes. The room was silent aside from Birdie’s gulps and breaths and squeaks, and for moment, you thought:

Everything’s gonna be just fine.

If only you knew just how wrong you were.

“We can’t have her crying like this!” Rick was swiping a hand roughly over his tired face, looking haggard. Things between him and Lori were not improving. They seemed to only be worsening. Even Daryl had called out the deputy’s behavior once or twice in the last two weeks. The archer was currently glaring daggers while he rubbed a fingerless-gloved hand over Birdie’s back through the sling that held her to your chest. 

The loss of the warehouse had been tough on everyone, but you and your baby were affected the most. Your mood swings were only growing worse, though less and less toward the little one in your arms and more toward the adults that were only trying to help you. In turn, Birdie remained in a constant state of inconsolable. Hershel had thrown around words like colic and had Daryl dosing out gas drops to the little one but nothing seemed to soothe her.

The cars had run out of gas, as well as Daryl’s bike. The archer had pushed the motorcycle along for a time before he declared that he couldn’t protect Birdie if he was too busy hauling a damn bike. He had hidden it under some brush, easy to be tracked back to later. It was Merle’s bike and you knew what it meant to him. However, Birdie meant more. Much, much more and he would crawl into hell and back for the little girl strapped to your front.

“She’s a baby, man. How else she s’posed to let us know she’s needin’ something?” Daryl snapped, his voice intentionally higher to be heard over your daughter’s cries. 

“Daryl, you know this isn’t safe! She’s gonna bring every walker for miles down on us!” Rick threw out an arm, gesturing broadly. “Or—or the living! You saw what they would do!”

“Ain’t much we can do! She ain’t hungry! She ain’t needin’ changed! She’s just pissed off an’ I ain’t far away from bein’ right there with ‘er!”

“Boys.” Lori admonished, squeezing your shoulder. When had you started to tremble? “All this negative energy isn’t helping.”

“She’s right.” Hershel agreed, adjusting his gloves. “Babies are incredibly intuitive.”

“We just need to find fuel—cars.” Rick sniffed, hands on his hips. “We’re sitting ducks like this.” His eyes met Daryl’s in a heated challenge.

After an intense staredown, it was surprisingly Daryl who backed down first but not without a menacing growl. Turning to place his body between you and Rick, he brushed his bare fingertips over Birdie’s hooded head and then across your jaw. “Y’want me to take ‘er for a bit?”

You shook your head even as the temptation beckoned you to acquiesce. “I don’t think jostling her would help right now.” A single tear trailed down your cheek. As much as it pained you to admit, Rick was right, but how could you coax your baby to stop her noises of discomfort when you had no idea what was ailing her? Daryl used his thumb to swipe away the moisture, his expression equal parts distress and sadness. He clearly felt as helpless as you did.

“S’take a break.” He said suddenly, ushering you to a nearby log. Lori was immediately lowering herself beside you with a great deal of difficulty given her round belly. You could sympathize with her struggle, having been there not so long ago yourself. Her hand came to rest on the back of your head with loving strokes meant to soothe your nerves.

“I think that’s a great idea.” She agreed, offering you a gentle smile when you searched out her gaze. After a moment, you nodded and began to remove Birdie from her sling. Carol appeared with an extra blanket to cover you and shield the baby from the cold as you tried to nurse her. Daryl was hovering, shifting from foot to foot with his fingers digging into the strap of his crossbow. As much as you loved the man, his nervous energy wasn’t helping things in the slightest. 

“Why don’t you go hunting?” You suggested, reveling in the relief when Birdie quickly latched and her wailing ceased. Her little hiccups around enthusiastic gulps remained heartbreaking. The past few days had seen you begin to settle though the fraying of your nerves lingered. At least you were now aware of how much you loved your daughter and that you wouldn’t change a single moment that brought her barreling into your life. 

Daryl quickly shook his head in refusal, his already white-knuckled grip on that strap growing impossibly tighter. “Can’t leave ya here like this.”

You bit back the urge to yell at him, make the demand that he go. He meant well. “Please?” He wrestled with indecision, his expression damn near crumbling before he skillfully schooled it with a sigh.

“Fine.” He huffed at the same time that he took a single step toward you. He seemed to think better of it and turned on a heel while stripping his weapon from his back. “Be back in a hour an’ we can move on.” You knew as well as he did that there was little to no game to satisfy the group’s hunger. He was only trying to placate you. The two of you needed time alone, needed to talk and work through the tension between you. 

With an inward sigh, you watched him disappear into the trees and shushed Birdie when she released your nipple and began to squirm and fuss. 

“So,” Lori began, “am I looking at the future Mrs. Dixon?” Her question caught you off guard, your eyes shooting wide even as you stared straight ahead. Only when she tapped the back of her hand against your arm did you acknowledge her and her request to take Birdie. Passing the baby off, you adjust your clothing and draped the extra blanket over your daughter.

“How did you—”

“He asked my advice.” Lori carefully arranged Birdie against the front of her shoulder, alternating between patting and rubbing the little one’s back. Tiny grunts and squeaks sounded from beneath the blanket, an audible passing of gas following close behind. The experienced mother turned toward where Hershel had sat to rest as well. “Maybe a touch of colic?” There was that word again. 

The older man hummed. “Could be. I’ll fetch the drops.” You felt bad watching him struggle to his feet from the forest floor, but couldn’t be persuaded to do so yourself. You were just too damn tired.

“What is colic?” You asked, your brow drawing inward. It was obviously not a danger to your baby, given Hershel’s lack of serious concern, but if something was hurting her, it was hurting you. The very thought of her pain had tears springing to your eyes.

“It just means that she’s uncomfortable. It might be the lack of protein in your diet. It could be gas. There’s no real explanation. She’s just—not feeling well. It’s nothing to worry about except she won’t be easily soothed for a while.” Her lips thinned into a sad smile. “It’s nothing and a lot all at once.”

“I’ll take her.” Carol offered whilst petting your hair as Lori had just a few moments prior. Extricating Birdie from Lori’s arms, she bounced the infant tenderly against her chest. “Y/N, will you come find me once you’ve finished up here?” Sporting a questioning look, you still nodded and watched her walk away after returning the gesture.

“He asked your advice?” You stared toward the empty space of Carol’s retreat for a moment longer before turning your attention to Lori. This time, her smile was genuine if not cheeky. 

“He did.”

“Hey—Hey, uh, can I ask ya somethin’?” 

She hadn’t really noticed Daryl approaching but that wasn’t surprising. He was a hunter and stealth was something in which he excelled. Lori paused in her stirring and tapped the spoon on the side of the kettle. The beans had yet to even begin to heat over the small fire inside the house, so she had a few minutes to spare.

“Of course.”

Daryl had changed so much over the course of the months he had been with the group, and she had you to thank for such a large part of that. And now, she had little Birdie to thank as well. The man was going to make an excellent father, despite his lack of confidence.Though she knew so little, she was aware he wrestled with unnamed demons, but you were there to help see him through it. He would be just fine. All three of you would.

“I, uh—well—” The archer rubbed at the back of his neck, something she noticed he did when he was uncomfortable. “Ain’t good at any’a this shit, so m’just gonna say it.” Lori raised her eyebrows when he paused to chew intently on the side of his thumb. “Wanna ask Y/N to, y’know—to marry me.” Her first instinct was to cheer, to celebrate his commitment, but thoughts of Rick—of Shane—trampled any immediate joy and ushered in skepticism. “You’re sure?”

Daryl scoffed. “Course m’sure! Lookit what she went through—what she just did for me. Why wouldn’t I wanna make ‘er my wife?” The confusion—the utter exasperation—on his face gave her pause but she continued.

“But do you love her?” She asked. Daryl wiped a hand down his face, ending with running the length of his index finger across his bottom lip. “It’s not a hard question, Daryl. Do you love her?” She didn’t realize—or maybe she did—how difficult it was for the man to admit something that deep to anyone but you. She wasn’t aware that he had said it before, had said it in the van, in the presence of the Greene’s and Carol, but whether or not they had heard was not something he had bothered to care about during that pivotal moment. 

Finally, Daryl sighed, his voice quiet. “I love ‘er. Yeah.”

Lori felt something in her chest release, a strong sense of relief and—if she were being honest—jealousy overwhelming her senses, making it impossible to speak for a moment. Gathering her bearings, she nodded and turned back to the pot, picking up the spoon to begin stirring. “Then you just ask her.” She sniffed, tilting her head just so in order to hide her tears from him. She was happy for you, compellingly so, but there was no denying the sadness that weighed on her own heart. Still, this wasn’t about her. This was about you—her friend. “Don’t rehearse lines or try to make it perfect. You just ask her. On the spot and from the heart.”

She heard the quiet hum from the side. It was the most straightforward form of acceptance toward her answer that she was bound to get from him. As his bootfalls receded into whispers on far away hardwood, she smiled.

Try or not, he was going to make it something that would mean the world to you.

You wiped away a tear and sniffled, consumed with a fresh wave of guilt for how you had been treating him as of late. He was handling your mood swings with grace, never lashing out, even if you did see him bite his tongue on more than one occasion. He had every right. Hormones or not, he deserved better than what you had been giving him.

“Thanks.” You whispered.

“So?”

You sniffled a second time, wiping at both of your eyes. “So what?”

Lori chuckled, her hands on either side of her belly. “Did you say yes?” 

You smiled and shook your head, recalling the moment to the forefront of your mind—hearing his tone, summoning the myriad of emotions you had experienced. It really was a Daryl Dixon proposal and it couldn’t have been more perfect. “I said yes.” You gave an indignant oomf as you were pulled against Lori, her arms squeezing as tightly as they could manage. “Wait, wait, wait.” You laughed, patting her back in an effort to coerce her into releasing her hold. When she let go, you sat back, expression light. “We’re keeping it quiet for now, making it official later.”

“Why?”

You shrugged. “A lot can happen in a short amount of time. He could change his mind.” Especially with these fucking mood changes. 

“You’re right.” She agreed. You shot her a look, almost as if you had been expecting her to disagree with you. “ A lot can change. We don’t know what’s going to happen even in the next few minutes.” She paused. “Who we might lose.” Leaning forward, she cupped your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Think about it.” You studied her for a moment, the sadness and apprehension radiating from your friend and forming a veil over you that was almost smothering. You nodded. “Good. Now go see what Carol wants. I think I need a nap.” She gave you an encouraging smile and didn’t move as you stood, looking over your shoulder at her before you disappeared to find the other woman and your daughter.

It wasn’t hard to do. Not at all. You just followed the loud exclamations of a disgruntled infant. As you approached, you could tell your daughter had just been given a fresh diaper and was in the process of being swaddled. The cold, flat ground beneath her couldn’t have been helping things. The weather was warming but at a slow rate Regardless, you had no idea what was coming next: what Carol would share with you and the disaster that would follow.

“Oh, hey.” She greeted, patting the ground next to her. The lack of her usual gentle tone and welcoming smile were your first clues that something was amiss. She sighed heavily, not meeting your eyes once you were cross-legged at her side. Her hand was splayed over the top of the blanket, gently rubbing circles over Birdie’s belly. “There’s something I want to tell you—advice, if I can even call it that.” She said solemnly. You weren’t sure where her thoughts were at that moment but it was somewhere dark, somewhere in a place she had deserted since the deaths of Ed and Sophia.

“What is it?” You needlessly adjusted the knit hat on Birdie’s head; pulled the hood of the tiny jumpsuit more snug around her little round face.

“Babies cry, Y/N. It’s how they tell us when they need something. It’s the only way they can tell us.” Why was she schooling you on something you had already learned? And in such a monotonous fashion? “I don’t want Rick to be right but there are dangers and few options if a herd follows the noise.” She sighed heavily, her shoulders held slumped under an invisible weight. “I don’t like it but it’s fact.”

“I know that, Carol.” 

“It’s just—” When you looked away from the baby, your gaze was immediately drawn to the lone tear straying from her closed eyes. “When Sophia was born, she was—she was such a quiet baby.” Her words came so softly, so full of melancholic nostalgia that you felt your own heart clench. Then, when her eyes opened, they were hard, her expression stern and twisted. “He gave me a break. Ed.” She didn’t even need to say his name. You knew. “A couple of weeks before the—old habits came back. The bruises, the screaming.” She was trembling, her hand leaving Birdie to curl into a fist on top of her knee.

“Carol, we don’t have to—”

“Sophia felt it.” She nodded, staring off to nowhere in particular. “That energy—she began to cry, she was so unsettled. Ed didn’t like it. Shut her up or I will, he would say.” She bent forward, her face crumbling as her hand slid up to twist into the front of her jacket. “I didn’t want to do it, but I didn’t know how else to keep her safe.”

You waited her out, terrified of what she was about to tell you. When you said nothing, she inhaled deeply and released her hold on the coat, stroking the back of a knuckle over Birdie’s cheek.

“Y/N, I am going to show you something. I only ask that you please try not to think less of me.” Your mouth was moving but no sound emerging, your wide eyes watching her lean over your daughter, shushing the discontented cries. “I would never hurt your daughter, just as I would have never hurt my own.” Before you could speak, she was pinching Birdie’s little nose with one hand and covering her mouth with the other. The crying ceased but the flailing did not, her little limbs jerking.

“Carol!” You threw yourself forward and snatched her wrists, pulling them away from your daughter, throwing the other woman off balance and onto her hip. Carol caught herself, her palm shoving toward you in a desperate gesture for you to calm down. “What the fu—”

“Look!” She pleaded, her head jerking toward the now silent baby.

Birdie was still, her tiny blue eyes open and searching, stunned. She wasn’t crying, not at that moment. Your jaw was agape, your mind warring between anger and bewilderment; between betrayal and understanding.

“You only do it for a moment, not long enough to cause any harm.” Carol sat up, tears flowing down her cheeks, unchecked. “I couldn’t let Sophia cry. I did what I had to do.” She shook her head adamantly, her eyes closed tightly as if she were trying to jar the unpleasant memories loose and out of her mind. “I don’t regret it. I don’t. She was safe from him.”

“I don’t—Carol, I can’t do that.” You were crying openly now, picturing yourself denying your daughter precious breath. Even just one attempt would break you, split you open from the inside out.

“I’m not telling you that you have to, but Y/N,” she paused, gathering herself back up onto her knees at your side. She intentionally kept space between the two of you. “Rick—he’s trying to keep us safe. You saw what those monsters were going to do to her. You’ve seen what walkers can and will do. Just until we find a car. Until—”

Your face was in your hands now, Birdie’s crying having picked back up. “What if I—”

“Only a moment, Y/N. She will catch her breath. Eventually, it—it trains her.” Carol hesitantly touched your shoulder, and you broke, bowing over your little one with open sobs. Your body trembled from the force of your crying, any sound muffled by the blanket pressing into your face. “I’m so sorry. I just want her to be safe. I want her to have a chance.”

The two of you stayed that way for an uncertain amount of time, long enough for your sobs to drain away into hiccups and whimpers. Sitting up, you roughly wiped at your face, red and puffy eyes frozen on your screaming baby. How could you do what she was suggesting? How? What would Daryl think? “I need to talk to Daryl.”

Carol nodded, but her expression screamed uncertainty. “Maybe you should show him.” She suggested. “He can see that it’s not hurting her.”

“The man wouldn’t even wipe her ass because he was afraid of hurting her, Carol.”

“You’re right. Maybe this was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have—I’m so sorry.”

She felt ashamed. You could see it all over her; her face, the way she began to curl in on herself. She was ashamed of something she was forced to do to keep her baby girl safe. And then she had lost Sophia. It was clear that Carol wasn’t proud of the way she had to ensure her child’s safety. It wasn’t a hack you go around bragging about at neighborhood get-togethers. It was survival.

“Show me what to do.”

Expression grim, Carol moved closer and instructed. The actions were so simple. It was the very idea itself that was so impossibly difficult. Pinching Birdie’s little nose, the baby gasped wetly through her mouth just as your hand was coming down to cover it. Your heart was seizing, vibrating painfully in your chest. Just as your fingertips touched her cheek—

“What the fuck are you doin’?!”

Daryl.

[xervn]

like a french girl 🎨

part 1 - paint me | part 2 | art major ellie x dance major reader | ellie photo

ao3 link

summary: ellie had been struggling with finding the perfect model for her art final. that was until she saw you.

18+ MDNI | 2.2k words | tags; college au, pining, only a little explicit, no use of y/n, not proofread

disclaimer: not an art or dance major, don't shoot!

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Scribble, scratch, throw. This has been Ellie’s routine since she moved onto campus.

Why? Her professor told her that she draws the human body like it’s lifeless. Ranting about how they’re too one-dimensional and have no depth, her lines are too sharp or not sharp enough; flat and boring in looks and in feeling. 

Now listen, Ellie has nothing against criticism. She respects her professor and she’s aware that her drawings lack “vitality”. It’s been something she’s struggled with for a while now, an effect of some recent events and overall adjusting to college life. 

Ellie isn’t unable to grasp the anatomy of the body, in fact it’s the opposite. She knows the human body is complex and needs thorough observation. The way the sun hits the skin, the hairs on a knuckle, the creases of a smile. Wide, small, big, tall; no two bodies are exactly the same. 

Really, the imagery is so clear to her, but she finds it impossible to transfer the life and motion of the body onto a piece of paper without truly understanding the person. The way she sees it, every body has a story, and in order to make a good piece she needs to know that story.

Since art school is filled to the brim with inspiring, exciting, and vibrant people, she has, of course, tried to talk with them. She attempted to get to know the models, ask them general questions and hope something clicks. Unfortunately, that has yet to happen. She can’t really ask her friends either without it getting awkward. Imagine, “ Oh, hey guys! Can you guys get naked and pose in one spot for my homework?” �� Hear how weird that sounds? Even though she’s sure Jesse would definitely be down, she values her eyes.

 Any “muse” she could possibly ever want was right in front of her, so why was it really impossible for her to find one?

 Well, because Ellie didn’t find anyone interesting enough. She’s not shallow or anything, it has nothing to do with how the model looked, Ellie has had several good-looking models. It was more about how she perceived them. It’s just that she hasn’t seen a model that made her ask questions like: “ How’d they get that scar?”  “ What does that tattoo mean?” Stuff like that.

The last interesting model she had was probably a fucking homeless guy she shared a blunt with outside a gas station many moons ago. Till this day, he might be one of her best pieces. There’s not a lot of moments like that here.

Nonetheless, Ellie saw this developing– extremely lame— personal requirement of hers annoying as shit. It’s holding her back big time, but she couldn’t help it even if she really wanted to.

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It’s practically useless to keep trying. The tiny voice in Ellie's head presses her to keep going, keep failing, but enough is enough. She is seriously burnt out and any more of this might kill her. The only thing that could help right now is a meaty slice of pizza and a blunt as soon as she thought of it.

Ellie clears out her desk, knocking the stack of crumpled paper into a conveniently placed trash can; a placement made from her constant trials and errors. She pushes up, and stretches widely, obnoxiously groaning like an old man by the end of it. She quickly tidied herself up, tying up half of her hair into a ponytail and throwing on a dark-green flannel shirt she had to sniff before wearing over her plain white tee. She takes a quick look into her floor-length mirror, making sure she looks presentable before grabbing what she needs to head out.

Just as her hand reached for the silver knob, Ellie felt this overwhelming urge to look back. God, she knows what she is going to look back at, but she really hopes she doesn’t. Unfortunately, her eyes land on her sketchbook, laid flat on the desk underneath a lamp’s warm light. She shouldn’t.

She needs a break. She knows she needs a break, but there is a twinge of hope, faith, lodged somewhere inside her. The same faith that’s kept her from dropping out every day for the past four months. Ellie groans as she drags her feet to her desk where she whisks up the brown book and shoves it in her tote bag with an accompanying pencil. She swivels back to the door and strolls out, silently praying her mood improves in the next hour.

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The cafeteria was surprisingly crowded, but Ellie managed to get her pizza without saying ‘fuck it’ to the line. Still, the thought of eating between this buzzing mess when she was in such a shitty mood turned her off. Thankfully, she knew that everyone would be everywhere but the upstairs balcony, especially during this chilly time of year. No sane person would eat out there, and she’s not particularly sane. Ellie saunters off to the balcony and sits herself at a small table facing the view.

It only took a glance around before she came to the realization that the view is not really a view. There’s only a dorm a few feet away, directly across. It’s a large brick-laid, generic building with wide windows. If it weren’t for the blinds, the view into a room would probably be good enough to read a label on something. Ellie’s freckled face grimaces at the thought, imagining what it’d be like if someone watched her rage as she messed up her homework over and over from this distance. Despite that, she thought it’d probably be a pretty good spot to live in. It’s close to the cafeteria and probably a lot bigger than her 1x1 dorm.

With a twinge of curiosity piquing her mind, Ellie glimpses over the windows, and for the most part, they are all closed.

All closed, but yours.

Yours doesn’t even have blinds. You’re on the 3rd floor and almost completely unobscured in a black camisole, sitting on your questionably roomy windowsill with a leg perched up. Ellie can see the fairy lights strung up in your bedroom, and a line of succulents closer to the window; ordered by size, which she briefly thought was cute. 

You aren’t facing the window, so she can only see your back. What she could see, though, is you doing your hair, occasionally swaying to what she can only imagine is music. Your room is high, but low enough for her to identify you if she had the pleasure of knowing you. Knowing you, reverberates in her head. Does she know you? Has she met you before? Amongst that babble, there is one more question she is slowly trying to gather an answer to. 

Time passes, most definitely shorter than Ellie would have thought passed. Her eyes have been glued on you the whole time, she even forgot about her, now freezing cold, pizza just so she could gawk at you. She still hasn’t seen your face yet, barely even a glimpse, but she already thinks you are stupidly beautiful just by the way you move.

From the graciousness of your movements alone, she thought there was no way in hell you didn’t know she was watching. At some point, your arms got tired, so you smoothly rolled your aching shoulders back; stretching into an arched, effortlessly perfect posture. Ellie’s eyes traced that slight curve of your back as if you’d disappear if she broke off from you.

There is no way it gets better from that, is what she thinks to herself, only to be shut up immediately after when she sees that perfectness of your back stay as you bend over and shift onto both knees to grab something far away, bringing your shorts in view. So short— so tight , they could easily be mistaken for panties. 

It was unexpected to say the least, Ellie could feel her face heating up and had to look around her to see if anyone else could see what she was seeing right now. Ellie wondered about the practicality of those shorts, wondered what exactly they were supposed to cover, leering at the plush of your ass peeking out. She thoughtlessly lets her jaw drop before muttering out a low, impressed, and barely over a whisper, “Well, fuck.”

You must’ve noticed your shorts riding up, since you quickly pulled them down after you grabbed what you wanted. Ellie clears her throat, internally scolding herself for being so gross— so perverted. Her brows furrow in embarrassment from all the dirty thoughts she brewed up in that moment. But for some reason, she still doesn’t look away. Well, there’s a list of reasons for her to look away, but she feels like ignoring it. 

Then a cold gust of wind bites past her face, clearly a sign from the universe that she should snap out of it, and snap out of it she does. 

What the hell happened to her? What is it about you that she keeps leaning into? Suddenly something clicks in her brain. After months of creative agony, something finally clicked. She has sat here completely fascinated by you and she couldn’t tell sooner?

In all honesty, to say she is just “interested” in you would be an understatement. Yeah, now she thinks you’re the perfect model for her final, but she wants to know you beyond just the drawing. A plus is that you just happened to be hot, and Ellie has never been attracted to a subject before, so the whole thing was new and exciting to her. Just the thought of drawing you made her remember why she loved art so much.  Ellie reaches for her tote bag sitting in an empty seat beside her, pulling out her sketchbook with more enthusiasm than she probably ever has. She sets the book down, opening up a blank page with one hand and tightening her grip on her pencil in the other.

She looks back up at your window, ready to sketch your life onto paper and..  Shit. You’re looking back.

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Today has been a good day for you, your teacher chose  you to teach the choreo you’ve been working on for weeks to your classmates. It was an obvious ego booster for you. You felt good and you wanted to look good too, even if you weren’t going out anywhere. It was just one of those nights. You wanted to experiment with your hair, thinking maybe you’ll do something new before your next practice. Dye it, cut it.. something.

It’s been a while since you started, and after several wrist and shoulder cramps, you were finally finished. You take a look into your hand mirror, peering at your reflection. You’re satisfied now, looking exactly how you’re feeling if you minus the dingy sleep clothes you’re in. 

♫ My heart, I never be, I never see, I never know. ♫

Grimes? Really? You pout, upset that your playlist didn’t magically read your mood. What you need is real 2000’s hot girl music. Britney Spears, Nelly Furtado, or Beyoncé for crying out loud.

“Alexa, skip!” You shout across the room, just loud enough for the device to hear. 

The stupid thing doesn’t even light up, so you call out a few more times but to no avail. Isn’t the whole point of that thing to be voice automated? You sigh and look around for your phone, and seeing it’s nowhere in front of you, you figure it’s behind. You twist your torso to find your phone behind you and luckily you do. As you pick it up, you casually glance out the window without any expectations. 

Did you see a figure in the blur as you looked away? You question your eyes, but you decide to take another look and just find out for yourself.

You peer back down and your eyes meet with someone else’s. The sudden eye contact between you and this woman instantly mortified you. Your heart sunk, and all you could do was raise your brows stupidly. She was surprised too, even in the dim light you could see her shocked expression boring back at you. Not only that, it went on for way longer than it should have. Any normal person would’ve looked away, but her eyes lingered on you before she hastily turned away. 

You’ve been sitting here, dressing up your hair, listening to your music without a care in the world. Far too absorbed in yourself to realize there’s someone outside your window. You slide off your windowsill and out of sight. Just as your bottom finally hits the wood floor, you feel the coldness of it against your skin and you’re immediately conscious of the fact that your ass was literally out at some point. 

The poor girl was trying to eat her food and you were bending over in front of your window like a harlot. It certainly didn’t help that she looked kinda hot. Did she? You peeked over your windowsill, hoping to get another look to really assess her hotness, but she was already gone. Whatever, maybe she didn’t see? But she looked embarrassed… embarrassed for you probably!

You hide your face in your hands and topple to the side, letting out a fake sob. Oh, god. You can already imagine Dina’s face when you tell her. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that thought. That was humiliating as shit, but it’s whatever. It’s not like you’ll see her again. 

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side note: if you have any tropes you'd like to see w/ this universe pls do drop an ask 🤭

click 4 more!

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

11 Lap Dances

Zhongli x Reader / NSFW / Modern AU / Mafia or Assasin AU but very vague / Reader works at a nightclub / I had way too much fun with this entry so it's a bit longer. Actually thinking about writing more parts for this but it could be read as a stand-alone

A pair of stunning amber eyes had been on you for the past couple of nights. They were hard to miss, leaving a lingering curiosity in the back of your mind.

You continued your performance on the stage as you always did, ignoring all the slurred demands and shrill whistles being thrown at you by the rambunctious crowd. Light bounced off the glass beads on your dress as you moved, creating a dazzling spectacle that few on the dance floor had the heart to appreciate, even if you had their undivded attention. They didn't truly see you, but that was expected. Your seductive dance fed into their fleeting, lust-induced fantasies. There was rarely an exception, and you could always pick them out.

Your eyes fluttered over to him again. He simply sat there, silently watching as if that was all he was here to do. It was all he had done for the past few performances he had attended. In a crowd like this, he stood out like a sore thumb.

The dance finally came to a close. You descended from the stage and made your way through the crowd to the bar to ask for a thirst quencher. Your eyes idly scanned the crowd again for the face that had been occupying your mind. He had disappeared like a puff of smoke again. A bit of disappointment settled on your shoulders as you wondered if he would return tomorrow night to watch you.

Your admirer was a well-dressed man. You could tell even from the stage. His demeanor remained calm and collected despite the loud and rambunctious environment. It was hard not to be intrigued. What was someone like him doing in a place like this? He looked like he belonged elsewhere, somewhere less choked up by cigarette smoke and clumsy drunkards.

Your boss saunters up to you while you were sipping on your drink, thoughts wandering off with a man you knew nothing about.

"A guest requested you." She held up a key card between two fingers.

"Didn't I tell you? I'm not doing private performances."

The woman frowned, but wasn't surprised by your immediate decline. The two of you had an agreement.

"You might want to see this one. Count it as a personal favor to me."

You furrowed your brow, taking a good look at her expression. Ever since you took to the stage, she had been rather lenient on you to the point of favoritism, allowing you to decline interacting with guests you didn't wish to. It wasn't a selfless gesture, but a calculated one. Perceived scarcity artificially inflates value. Your reputation as an untouchable commodity only made you more desirable to the masses that gathered here. She could sell your presence for far more if she withheld you from her ordinary patrons. Their unmet desires fueled your reputation and padded her wallet.

"How much did he give you?" You asked bluntly.

"Nothing." She replied, an unsual tinge of fear colored her voice as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't want to throw you under the bus. You know that."

"He threatened you, didn't he?" You realized.

"Just take care of him for me. I owe you one." She didn't confirm nor deny your suspicions.

The woman standing before you was no herbivore. She swallowed people whole and didn't even bother to spit out their bones once she's done chewing them up. Plenty of illegal activities happened within these walls. She permitted it, protected it even. So the only thing that could stir fear in her was someone who could either put her behind bars or held enough tangible power to quietly make her disappear into thin air.

It looked like you had no choice in this matter.

"Fine. They probably just want a lap dance."

"You better dance like our lives depend on it. I'm counting on you." She almost pleads. It's a first for you, hearing this kind of tone.

She told you the private room number and you plucked the key card from her hand. You immediately downed the rest of your glass and made your way down the hallway. The blinking lights and music dimmed a bit as you distanced yourself from the dance floor. You drew in a deep breath before swiping the card and pushing the door open.

An audible gasp escaped you when your eyes met with a pair of striking amber ones. It was your mysterious admirer, the one you had forgotten about once your boss approached you. He was the monster that wretched woman was begging you to rescue her from?

"You've taken me quite some effort to find." He greets you by your real name rather than your stage alias.

Have you perhaps gotten hit by a car and lost a portion of your memory? You'd swear this man was a complete stranger. If you had met him before, you'd surely remember him. Who could forget such a face?

The door clicked shut behind you as you stood there, not sure how to go about this encounter anymore. You were expecting some large burly man with tattoos running down his arms, so you were actually quite relieved to see him. If every VIP that came through the front doors of the establishment was this attractive, your boss would not have to beg you to entertain them. You would be volunteering to.

"You were looking for me?" You asked, but regretted it immediately. Of course he was looking for you. That was why your boss went to fetch you.

"I have." He sighed, lamenting how difficult it was to convince a mother hen to surrender her prized chick to him. "Come here, dear. Let me take a closer look at you."

Like an obedience switch had been flipped on inside you, your body blindly obeyed his words. That silky, deep voice was hard to resist.

"You have his eyes and hair." He remarks out of the blue.

"Whose?"

"Your father's."

Your eyes widened. When your mother was still with you, she refused to mention your father, even when you asked. She simply said he was a dead man. You've always known he must've been the one you got your eyes and hair from since your mother didn't share those traits with you. Everytime you stared in the mirror, you wondered what your father looked like. After she died, you stopped wasting precious thoughts on useless pondering like that.

"Where is he? He's alive, isn't he?" You asked excitedly.

"Finding you was his dying wish. Due to how young you were when you were separated from him, reliable leads were difficult to come by. As such, I was unable to fulfill his contract until now."

The hope went out in your eyes yet again, after he confirmed that your father was indeed dead as your mother claimed. You shrugged and in an apathetic instant, tossed the gloomy thoughts to the back of your mind.

"So, what now? Are you here to be my surrogate dad or something?"

Your handsome stranger chuckled. "If you'd prefer to see me as a fatherly figure, I can certainly make that accommodation."

"I'd rather not." A mischievous smirk slips into your lips. "Unless you mean for me to call you daddy in a different kind of context."

His brow raised at your flirtation. "Careful now. You barely know me."

"I don't need to." You leaned in. "The less I know, the better off I am, especially in this industry."

"She's taught you well, I see." He hummed in approval.

"Now that we've gotten the reason you're here out of the way, how about I entertain you for a while?" You whispered in a sultry voice. "Can't let you leave empty-handed, right?"

"Your father would not approve of you attempting to seduce me."

"He's dead." You reminded him as you slowly lowered yourself onto his lap, straddling his knees loosely. "Besides, he wouldn't approve of you eyeing his babygirl the way you did while I was on stage either."

Your hips swayed back and forth, ghosting over his leg, barely touching him. This was for his eyes only. If he wanted you, he would have to reach out and take you into his own hands.

"You were putting on quite the performance. Was that not your desired outcome?" He mused, unashamed for being singled out for something the entire audience was guilty of.

"So you admit you want to fuck me too."

"I'm no saint, sweetheart." He warned you.

"Neither am I." You challenged.

The song coming through the speakers was the same one booming on the other side of the door, just without the obnoxious crowd. It gave you something to synchronize to. You rolled your hips to the sensual rhythm. The fluidity of your movements resembled waves tossing against a rocky shore, relentlessly wearing him down.

"So what's your name, handsome?" Your voice distracted him from his thoughts.

"Zhongli." He replied without much hesitation. His voice had gotten thick and slightly gravelly from all your hard work.

A pleased smile sat on your lips. From the first time you saw him in the crowd, he had captured your attention. It took him long enough to make himself more than just a spectator. In a matter of time, this man would be putty in your hands, you thought. Confidence was your charm as well as your blindspot.

"I'll make sure to say it nice and loud when you have me wrapped around your cock later." You whispered right into his ear.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, dear."

"You're going to end up fucking me. Why does it matter what order it happens?" You asked, putting more deliberation into your movements.

"I prefer not to rush into things." He chuckled.

"Are you going to make me sign papers or something?" You teased him.

"I will not lay a finger on you unless you agree to my terms." He managed to say between labored breaths.

True to his word, you realized this man really hadn't touched you at all ever since you've entered the room. All the physical contact between the two of you had been initiated solely by you. A blush spread over your face. You really were getting a bit impatient, but you were glad Zhongli didn't seem to mind.

"What are you, some kind of businessman?" You ask as you press yourself flush against his body. Your lap dance had gradually devolved into something much more erotic and tempting.

"You can say that." He replies cryptically.

"I agree." You pant, getting way too aroused for your own good.

"You haven't even heard them yet." He sighed.

It was getting difficult to think straight with you grinding against him like a sinful little devil. Your audacity was as dangerous as it was daring. It left all too much responsibility for him to shoulder. You might have your feet buried in the mud of this filthy establishment, but this mud was nothing like the bloody sludge his shoes were constantly dragging through. He had found you already, just as your father asked. All he needed to do was keep an eye on you. He didn't even need to see to it personally. Sending Xiao would be a much more efficient course of action. That would keep things simpler for him. Sleeping with you was not part of his original plan.

"Just fuck me good. It's not that complicated."

If you had retained even a shred of caution, you would be treading much more carefully. Your mind was clouded with lust and your only goal was to get this man in the same degenerate state as you.

He shook his head, holding back for whatever reason. You could care less. It wasn't like your reputation could get any more scandalous than it already was, with you working in this sort of place.

"I will need you to quit and cut all ties with this establishment. A new identity and corresponding documents would have to be arranged. You will have to move into my home so that I can see to your safety. Many things will have to change in order for you to adjust to your new life. You will also have to learn to use a gun."

You froze. What the actual fuck?

Why the hell would you need to learn how to pull a trigger if you get involved with him? The whiplash of his words finally brought back your rationality. Your boss's desperate expression resurfaced in your mind. What did he threaten her with in order to make this meeting happen? He didn't deny it when you asked if he was a businessman. What kind of shady business did he deal in to warrant these kinds of precaution?

"As I thought." He chuckled. "How about we slow things down and get to know each other first? Then you can decide if you'd still like to get involved with me."

You narrowed your eyes at the handsome man smiling so harmlessly at you. He was putting it in no uncertain terms that entangling your life with his was going to uproot yours entirely. Even with that said, you were still tempted to step right into his murky water. If he hadn't given you that somber warning, your understanding of Zhongli might remain shallow and short-lived, as infatuations often are. How he laid out all the complications you'd face upfront gave you an ironic sense of groundedness that none of your past flings ever came close to giving you.

"Okay." You stopped moving against him and just draped your arms over his shoulders. "You can start by telling me what exactly is it that you do."

He drew in an exasperated breath. You had him fooled when you first entered the room. He even praised your boss for teaching you to repress your curiosity. It had gotten far too many inquisitive minds killed and he would hate to see you join the body count.

"I deal in various businesses." He vaguely answers.

"I'm going to need more than that, Zhongli." You frown.

"It would serve you no good." He declines with an appeasing smile. "Knowing too much will  paint a target on your back. Your father entrusted you to me, sweetheart. As such, I cannot simply tell you what you want to know. Anything that can potentially put you in harm's way, I will not risk. That includes disclosing information that could compromise you or make you a candidate for taking hostage. Do you now see the severity of what you are asking?" He explained patiently.

"What's the point of warning me then, hmm?" You gripped Zhongli's tie, gently tugging him towards you. Your breath feathered against his lips. "Why even approach me if not meeting you is the safest I'd ever be?"

"I cannot refute that." He admitted gravely.

"Then shut up."

Something had obviously overridden his reasoning and you weren't about to let it go without taking advantage of it. You pressed your lips against his in a quick kiss, parting before he could even think to push you away. He swallowed as you resumed that dreadful lap dance of yours.

Zhongli's tie was finally freed from your grip when you twirled your body around. The back of your bejeweled halter dress was consisted of a dainty chain clasped at the nape of your neck and a narrow strip of fabric, leaving your back completely exposed. Plush thighs peeked out from underneath the skirt. You gathered your hair on one side, leaving the other side of your neck bare. It was a wordless invitation.

"If you believe you can handle it, then my fears are unfounded." He finally yields.

You threw your gaze over your shoulder, taking Zhongli's hand and guiding it to your hips. The fabric of your skirt rode up as his other hand slid up your thigh, fingers splaying as he palmed your ass. You arched your back, swaying with the music. A moan escaped your lips when he gave your butt a good squeeze.

"They are. You'll see. I can take it..." You gasped.

His hands had strayed. One of them had ventured between your thighs, pressing against your soaked entrance through the fabric. It was already sticky with your arousal. His other hand had traveled upwards, slipping underneath your halter to play with your chest. You let out a soft moan as he groped and kneaded the soft flesh, enjoying how pliable you were in his grip.

"Oh?" Zhongli hummed. "Is that so?"

Zhongli gathered you closer, spread your legs wider apart and continued to finger you relentlessly. Your lap dance had come to an end as soon as you placed his hands on your body. You began trembling as his lips joined in on the assault of your senses, leaving sporadic kisses all along your neck and shoulders.

"Please..." You whimpered. "Zhongli!"

"Just a little more. I would hate to ruin this pretty little cunt of yours." He replied calmly, despite his cock straining painfully against his pants.

Your lips fell open, spilling moan after moan as his fingers dug into your drenched folds and bullied your clit. Your desperation had you clawing at his belt, trying without success to free his cock.

"Your father would be disappointed at how brazen you've become. Have you no shame?"

"No...ah!" You cried out as he pinched the sensitive nub at your entrance. "Shut up and... fuck me already!"

"Stand up for a moment."

You did as told while he unbuckled and pulled down his pants. Once the shuffling was over, he gathered you back into his lap. His fingers clutched your waist as he aligned your dripping hole with the tip of his cock. You held your breath as your legs trembled. Zhongli drew in a sharp breath. Labored breathing followed as he slowly lowered you on his cock. A whimper seeped out of you as he speared you open, stretching your insides so deliciously, your walls immediately began clenching.

"Sweetheart, you must relax..." He let out a tortured groan. "That's it... Take all of it like you said you could."

You whined and moaned as he continued to push deeper, cock disappearing into you inch by inch.

"Ah... Too thick!" You gasped as he shoved his entire length up into you.

With a helpless moan, you dropped your head back against his shoulder. You never got to see the size of his cock before he put it in you, but judging by how painful the initial stretch was, he must’ve been swollen beyond imagination.

"Bend down for me, sweetheart. Yes... That's a good girl." He praised you while lifting you off his cock before sheathing you all the way down to the hilt.

"Too fast! Ah... Zhongli!" You choked out in between gasps and moans.

"You're doing so well, my sweet. Are you sure?" He chuckled. "Or was that a slip of tongue? You can certainly take it. Right, darling?"

As if to prove you had not yet reached your limit, he began to maneuver you up and down his shaft at an even quicker pace. Laschivous squelches and wet slaps emited from where the two of you were joined. Your mind had since turned into slush, lips parted in an endless stream of incoherent babbling and high pitched moans.

You lost count of how many times you came for him. It became a drunken blur to you. There were flashes of blinding pleasure and sensual moments interspersed in between. He bent you over a barstool once. You faintly remember being pinned against the counter as well as the wall. Most of the fucking happened on the couch though. Your body was so overwhelmed with pleasure, senses riled up and muscles tense with repeated strain, when it was all over, you pretty much collapsed into a pile of mush. You clung to Zhongli as he carried you out of the building and into the back of his car. Your dress was miraculously still on your body, but he had wrapped his coat around you for good measure. Your thighs were a glistening mess, a sight he'd rather keep to himself. As he exited, several of his men who were scattered within the club left with him while some remained to take care of whatever they were tasked to do. Your boss didn't dare intercept him to ask where he was taking you. From the moment Zhongli asked for you, you were no longer in her hands.

When you woke, an unfamiliar bedroom greeted you rather than the VIP room. Your halter dress had been changed into a nightgown and you were lying in a large bed covered in silk sheets and pillows. Your eyes wandered, scanning the rest of your surroundings. In a corner sat a bunch of boxes and a suitcase that unmistakably belonged to you. You never remembered packing anything, but it was obvious that the stacks of boxes contained items that also belonged to you. You climbed out of bed and made your way to the coffee table. A cellphone, an ID, and a post-it note was laid out on it. The handwriting on the note was neat and elegant, as expected of someone like Zhongli.

"There is bamboo shoot soup on the stove. Reheat it if it has gotten cold. Your father used to cook this often. Hopefully you will enjoy the taste."

You stared at the note, spacing out. You had never met your father before. Didn't even know his name nor what he looked like. There was nothing for you to attach anything to, not even resentment. However, from Zhongli's mention of him, you could tell he held fond memories of the man. Through that faceless man, you had crossed paths with a mysterious stranger who had swept you off your feet and dropped you into an unfamiliar world.

You picked up the ID. That was certainly your face staring back at you on the photo, but the name didn't belong to you. Neither did the birthday nor address.

Bits of conversation flitted through your mind as well as everything that happened between you and Zhongli last night. Only a few hours had passed between now and when you were brought here. Unless he had arranged all of this beforehand, there was no way it would be ready in such short notice.

He warned you beforehand that all of this was going to happen. You should be much more distraught at the sudden change of environment, but you weren't. His world was no less uncertain than yours, with its own set of dangers and unspoken rules. Perhaps it was even more unpredictable than the one you had just escaped. Maybe you had fled the pan and jumped into a skillet. The only grace you could cling to was the man who had dragged you into it. Zhongli promised to protect you and arm you with the means to protect yourself. Already, that was a better arrangement than what you had with your boss, who was now inevitably your ex-boss. No longer did you have to dance for nameless strangers in return for her favor. At most, you'd give an occasional lap dance to someone you actually wanted to entertain. You doubted Zhongli would share you with anyone else with the way he fucked you last night.

Your ex-boss's words fluttered through your mind. 'You better dance like our lives depend on it. I'm counting on you.'

You sure did dance like your life depended on it. Your performance was so good, Zhongli couldn't bear to leave you there for another day. Unfortunately for that woman, she was now on her own. You didn't worry about her. She would find a replacement for you in no time. As for Zhongli, he seemed like someone you could actually count on since the very reason he came looking for you was to fulfill a contract he had made to your father. He took them seriously, which convinced you that maybe you should enter one with him as well. At least with him, you had the confidence that he would see through with it.

Now what would a contract with Zhongli look like? What did you have to offer him? Sure, you were going to learn how to use a gun. Perhaps you would train hard and get good enough to be of actual use with it. There must be certain things an attractive woman with a gun could do that a man couldn't. Or maybe he would rather you give him a certain amount of entertainment on a regular basis. You would ask him the next time you see him.

[moon4411]

Azriel x mate reader (Rhysand's sister)

Warning: angst? Fluff? Idk, my bad gramatic.

Where is he?_ I forcefully open the front door, the intense pain in my lower back prevents me from keep walking, so strong that I let out a groan.- Mor, step aside if you're not going to help.

What are you doing here? You should be in be... oh my god, you're bleeding!_ Mor took my hands to guide me to the nearest chair. – Where is Azriel?

Mor, please, i need to see him, it's been so long. _ I beg, letting out a tear for my brother who I haven't seen since he sacrificed himself for all of us and remained under the reign of Amarantha.

okay, it's upstairs, but I must warn you; we have visitors._She directs me to the hallway where is Rhysand.

A small argument reaches my ears as I get closer, I can see the blur of a shoe ending on my brother's head, then Rhys turns his gaze and collides with mine. So many years avoiding looking in the mirror for fear of seeing the purple color of my eyes, the same color as my twin's eyes.

Sister_ he whispers, and from the color that leaves his face I know that he has already perceived the smell of blood, as well as my hands that have some stains and my simple blue dress with the folds of the skirt of a crimson red color that is already turning brown.

He turns his gaze to the thin girl on the other side of the hallway, she is wearing an ostentatious dress and seems to be frowning until her gaze meets mine and sudendly changes to one of concern or fear. -Rest Feyre, you'll need it. We'll talk in the morning.

As Rhys walks slowly towards me I can hear the guest's door close and my brother's breathing become more erratic. He take my hands and starts crying. -W-what happened? Are you okay? _ he turns to look at the hallway i came through, looks at Mor and then at the floor, finding a path of blood.

Maybe it's because of the adrenaline that little by little leaves my body or maybe it's the shock of meeting my twin again, but I only manage to take two steps and hug him before i faint letting all my weight fall on him.

The next time I open my eyes again i'm on a bed, I recognize the walls, is my old room.

She's very pale, we have to call Madja_ Rhys's face is full of tears and his hands don't stop shaking. –Rhys, RHYS, calm down_ Mor's tone is severe. -She's fine, just a little tired, she should be in bed, not winnowing and looking for you in the middle of the night. Madja is already on her way with Azriel, but I need you to stay calm, okay? I promise you everything is okay, I know she's bleeding but in a moment you'll understand, you just breathe.

Apparently that calms him and he proceeds to take a seat near my bed while holding my hand.

I manage to smile slightly at him. –I'm fine, I promise Rhys.

Yes, well i'm not okay._ Azriel enters the room looking very angry, but I can't help but smile at how cute he looks carrying a small baby wrapped in a pink blanket.

I squeeze my brother's hand tighter as I watch how he is looking at Azriel and back to me.

Rhys, I want you to meet Emma, your niece.

Rhysand bursts into tears and Azriel brings our daughter to him so he can hold her for the first time. he smiles at me.- I think you two have a lot to tell me.

We let out a little laugh. –oh, believe me, they do._ Mor answers. –I'll go get Madja, I think she needs help carrying things to clean you up and make sure you're okay.

I nod and with a little help from Azriel manage to sit on the bed to take my daughter in my arms.

I missed you a lot Rhys.

Me too, I missed you sister, but don't worry, from now on, nothing will be able to separate me from you.

I think you can tell that English is not my first language, so... Yeah I did my best. I spent like 5 years without writing because of my depression, but I think it's a good time to come back.

tell me what you think✨🫶🏽

[jals-stuff]

a routine.

Orter Madl x f!reader

Obnoxious, sour, call him whatever you want, Orter Mádl couldn't care less about what people thought of him. You can’t help but wonder if that’s what you find attractive, or if you just have a thing for authoritative, serious-looking jerks (because I do).

Warnings: slight angst? orter is a jerk, hurt (just a bit) with comfort, reader being too nice.

Word count: 3.4k words

Note: again with no sleep, sorry for any spelling mistakes, don't stone me to death. thought about making a part 2 for this, no clue yet let me know what y'all think. (i swear i have never simped for a man that hard before)

definitions at the end, but it doesn't matter if you don't read them so no worries! enjoy-

Indeed, Orter was a man who would sweat for the status quo to be protected. If this man had his name on an alignment chart, the creators would have to make up something like “lawful lawful”. That is how lawful Orter Mádl gets. It didn’t matter to him how people perceived him, or whispered to each other whenever they saw him walk through the large corridors of the Bureau of Magic. Few things mattered to him in fact, but if he had to put them into a list, it would look like this:

Making sure rules and order are respected

Staying undisturbed during working hours (and out of working hours, too)

Not doing anything unnecessary.

He had a very specific routine he followed almost perfectly everyday, and so far, nothing had pushed him to change it. No one had, either, because from an ordinary person’s point of view, Orter was nothing else than a sour workaholic, strict, obnoxious man. Most women (and some men as well) who worked at the Bureau always seemed to look to the ground when crossing his path, while the other ones were too busy gossiping about him being a potential serial killer, since he was “so calm and quiet”. But one (wo)man’s trash is another (wo)man’s treasure and surely enough, you were one hell of a hungry raccoon lady. 

You had been working at the Bureau for almost a year now, and since the very first time your eyes had landed on him, you knew he was the one you wanted. And since that day, you were one of the only people who even dared speak to him— if you don’t count the other Divine Visionaries as people (because Kaldo’s… obsession¹ with honey made him a creature, and not a human being, we have to be honest here). 

You’d always greet Orter when meeting him in the morning, or wish him to have a nice break time when he’d actually allow himself to take a break, and he would simply greet you back, always giving you the same confused look. Simply seeing him illuminated your days and kept you going through your seemingly unending workload. Yet, as much as you enjoyed these small interactions, the same couldn’t be said about him. 

Orter didn’t dislike these despite the way he looked down at you everytime you greeted him. He simply wasn’t used to such… fervour² from any of his other colleagues. You were certainly very passionate, and he had to put in a lot of effort not to just immediately send you away whenever you’d bring him coffee when you had free time or simply try to chat a little when you were to give him a report. 

It wasn’t against you or anything specifically, but Orter was a firm believer that saving energy was the move. After all, why bother doing anything that is unnecessary? 

Even if it, indeed, was nothing personal, you were pretty much everything he disliked. Noisy, talkative, full of energy, sPEED, and quite naive as well. The embodiment of a child who has been given too much sugar and is now experiencing the zoomies. 

And so, like an uninvited grain of sand in his eye, you slithered your way into his daily routine. Each morning, before entering his office, he knew he would encounter you at this specific time of the morning shift, by turning this corner. It happens everyday, and it will happen again today. He knows you get your break at 10:05 am and usually will knock on his office door at exactly 10:11 am to bring him your reports as well as some coffee you grabbed for him.

He knows that in the afternoon, usually between 3:48 pm and 4 pm, you’ll find an excuse— any excuse to bring him some pastries, or any kind of snack with another cup of coffee, but this time a bit more sugary. 

He has gotten used to it now, but he still cannot quite understand why you’re spending so much energy on him, and when Orter doesn’t understand something, he gets frustrated. He does not often interact with anyone, and so the fact that people around him might have feelings is completely unbeknownst to him, or so it seems. 

...

It’s approximately 4pm on that day and, as usual, you knock on his door. He looks up from his paperwork and just mutters to come in, knowing damn well it’s you. But this time, you’re not bringing any coffee or snacks. You just hand him a report you had written, as usual, and he notes that you look a little nervous.

You patiently wait for him to read through your carefully written report. He gives a nod, not even a word, as usual, and this time, instead of immediately leaving, you decide to speak up.

“Umm..” you start, and you start wondering whether this is a good idea or not. He’s looking at you now, in all of his cold, emotionless expression. “So… would you maybe… like to have your coffee break with me this time…?” you ask, looking away a little bit.

He leans against his chair’s backrest at the suggestion. He could definitely use a break and some coffee right now, but he isn’t sure if he can take the amount of energy you’ll be talking with for the whole duration of your time together.

“With you?” He asks, and you’re unsure if he means this in a mocking way, or if he’s just asking. You shyly nod and he adjusts the position of his glasses a little bit. “I could use a break,” he starts “but I’m not sure I can handle more of your… eagerness to converse³.”

It hurts quite a lot; you knew Orter had always been blunt, but to hear it from his mouth was something else. Were you really bothering him that much? Maybe he didn’t mean it in a bad way? After all, he did have a lot of work, and of course he’d like to free his mind a little bit and enjoy peaceful silence with his afternoon coffee. He quickly takes note of your nervous squirming and your lack of response.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” he finally says after what seemed like an eternity “I don’t want this headache to get any worse.”

A headache. Was this really all you were to him?

“I.. can stay quiet if you’d like me to, but I would really like to have—”

“No, thank you. I’ll have coffee on my own. ” He cuts you off, looking back to his paperwork, probably very oblivious to the fact that he just hurt you deeply. “I don’t understand why you’re so eager to interact with me when all I’m really asking for is to be undisturbed.” Was it personal, or was it because of his lack of human interaction? Well, both meant the same to you, if you really were the only person he interacted with, it was directly against you.

You didn’t know what to say. You wouldn’t give up on him, of course, but your entire personality had just proven to be a nuisance to him, and you weren’t sure how you’d recover from this one. You had been standing for a minute, looking at the ground in front of his desk, before his authoritative voice you loved so much pulled you out of your overthinking.

“Anything else?”

You shake your head ‘no’ and promptly exit his office now. It sounded clear to you that you were a disturbance to him, and it was the complete opposite of what you wanted to be. But again, no matter how bad his rejection felt, you decided you’d be a little more like he wished you’d be: invisible, silent.

You made a mental note to change your behaviour around him and stop being so clingy and noisy all the time, then maybe, if you destroyed this personality of yours he seemed to loathe, maybe he would look at you. Even just once.

...

Orter arrives at the Bureau the next day as usual, and already knows you’ll be just around the corner where he meets you everyday. He gives a sigh and walks around… to find no one. He blinks a few times in surprise, but simply assumes you’ll be somewhere else, ready to greet him…. But there’s no sign of you. Or rather there is one, but it’s only the usual morning coffee you give him, and it’s sitting on his desk inside his office. You, on the other hand, aren’t here.

“Probably a different schedule today.” he thinks and quickly dismisses it to sit at his desk and remove his coat. He takes a few sips of the warm coffee and sighs before diving into his unending paperwork again.

As expected, there is a knock on his door at 10:11 am. He lets you come in and is pleased to see you’re still bringing him some coffee, along with your usual report. You quietly greet him and hand him the papers as you put the tall coffee cup on his desk, and await his review. Again, he gives you a nod and puts the papers back into his drawer, and as he looks up from his paperwork again to listen to your usual morning talk, he’s surprised to see you leave his office without a word.

“Probably has more work today.” he thinks, dismissing the change in your behaviour as the man sinks into his paperwork once more. You, on the other side, are only hoping your efforts aren’t vain. You’ve practised staying silent for a bit and you think you’re nailing it, honestly. All for the sake of the obnoxious, lawful man.

It doesn’t occur to him even once that you might be in emotional pain from his words; he isn’t well versed with other people’s feelings— and probably not his own either. You probably have more work today, and that’s why you’re not as talkative as usual. Or maybe you’re tired. Are you sick?

He stops himself for a second and takes off his glasses to rub his eyes a little; no. No, no. It shouldn’t matter to him whether you are ill or simply tired. He has too much work to do to care about one of his coworkers.

Roughly around 3:50 pm, you knock on his door again, bringing in the usual pastries and sweet coffee. Now, he’s wondering which excuse you found to visit him as he crosses his hands on his desk and looks at you intently.

His eyes on you start to feel uncomfortable. It’s like he’s tearing your soul open and trying to figure out what’s going on in this little skull of yours⁴, and really, it isn’t just an impression. He was expecting you to ask him out again, or talk about the weather, complain about your workload, but none of these words escape your mouth. A simple, polite “have a good afternoon”, and you’re gone immediately.

Your schedule must really be something else for you to quit pestering him about your state of mind like you used to do. But again, he takes a bite of the delicious pastries you brought him, and keeps working in religious silence as he occasionally takes a sip of the sweet coffee you delivered.

Time flies fast, and it’s already evening. You clock out, as one does, and as you walk away from your office, you encounter Orter, who seems to be clocking out at the same time. And this is when the overthinking kicks in. Is he going to think you waited for him? Will he believe it was a mere coincidence? What if he thinks you’re being clingy and annoying for clocking out at the same time? 

But your thoughts come to an end as he simply walks away without a word; maybe he just doesn’t care. Right, maybe he just doesn’t care. It probably didn't matter whether you were quiet or talkative, hyper or calm. He probably didn’t care.

...

The next morning, you arrive earlier at the Bureau, as you did yesterday, and fulfil your morning routine: getting a few snacks for yourself, and a tall coffee for Orter. But unfortunately, the cafeteria is a bit more crowded than usual, and you end up exiting it at the same time you usually did. 

He encounters you again at the very same corner, and he is now convinced you simply had a rough schedule yesterday, but as he was about to greet you, you simply hand him the coffee and walk away towards your office without a word. 

The day goes on like the previous one; you barely exchange any words with him, and he makes no effort to change this. You’re quiet, reserved now, and you just internally pray that he will like you more. This isn’t you, but you will be whoever he wants you to be, if there’s the slightest chance that he will look at you.

What you were completely clueless about was how this little change of yours was affecting him. At first he didn’t think much of it, but he had gotten used to your nonstop talking, to your cheerful voice when you greeted him, and to the very specific hours you’d come to visit him and ask him out or talk about everything and nothing. 

Orter was going nuts. The routine he had gotten used to was crumbling for reasons unknown, and he couldn’t understand why, it was beyond his power. The grain of sand in his eye⁵ had become an entire desert, and the frustration was great enough that he could barely focus on his work anymore. Something was missing. He needed to figure it out quickly.

His focus was long gone, and all he could think about was why the usual, cheerful girl who always greeted him with a smile and warm coffee had become so… dull and painfully normal. Had you been sick the whole time? Why did he even care in the first place?

But as much as he disliked admitting it, he had grown quite fond of your behaviour, even though his words had proven to oppose this fact. He needed to make sure of what was lacking in his daily routine now. You were still here, you still brought him coffee everyday, did your job correctly… What could be missing?

His mind was a complete mess and he could not get you out of his head for some reason, which made him even more annoyed. You were such a headache and a nuisance, right? He couldn’t possibly be going insane from the lack of… you?

As usual, at 10:11 am sharp, you visit his office with your daily report and his coffee. This time though, he doesn’t take the papers from your hands and just crosses his legs, looking straight into your eyes. “I would like you to read it out loud for me.”

Read it out? You ask yourself, why couldn’t he read it himself? But again, we are talking about Orter Mádl; this man could tell you to get on all fours and bark, and you would gladly do it without giving it a second thought.

“...right.” You started, a little confused at his sudden request. “The Bureau’s investigation on Magol Castle…”

Your words grew distant to him, but not your voice. He wasn’t listening, he was listening. He felt himself oddly soothed at your tone, for once, as he kept trying to find this missing piece of the jigsaw. But it was as if his focus had returned and he could finally get back to work. As soon as you stopped talking, he extended a hand for you to give him the reports, and you did.

“Good, very good. I’ll read it again later.”

You stood in awe for a second; Orter had just praised you. Your efforts were working, and now you just had to keep going and stay quiet most of the time. You gave a polite nod and walked away from his desk. 

“Wait.”

That was it. You were the missing piece. But it made no sense, since you hadn't left, you were still here with him at the very moment... but then why did it feel like you weren't?

You turn around as you hear him speak and you just stand there, waiting for him to keep going. The silence is heavy and it seems like an eternity before he finally speaks up again.

“You’ve been… quiet.” He remarks, his eyes never leaving yours, and you couldn’t tell whether he meant this in a good or a bad way. Of course, his expressions always suggested that everything he said was to be taken in a bad way, but you knew better than to assume anything, especially about Orter Mádl. “Why?” he asks, and there’s an undertone of desperation in his voice. He sounds like he’s at his wit’s end.

At this point, you can’t really do anything else than speak up and tell the truth, can you? So you take a few steps towards his desk and nervously fiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“I… do not wish to be a nuisance or give you a headache.” You simply reply, in all of your honesty, and he looks at you, clueless and distraught now. Was that the reason why you had been silent the entire time? Were you driving him completely crazy because of what he said to you?

He buries his face in his hands and sighs. His glasses were slightly falling from his nose now that his hands were rubbing it entirely. You walk around his desk and gently push his glasses back in place, his state worrying you a little bit. You had never seen him being affected by anything before, so you were a bit confused.

“Are you alright..?” You quietly asked, not daring to touch him too much, lest he’d find you clingy, but the man sighed loudly once again and cleared his throat, his hands crossing against his desk again.

“You are driving me insane, (Y/N).”

You’ve never heard him speak your name before, and it felt… rather nice. You couldn’t tell if his words were meant to be good or bad though, so you only stood next to him and waited for him to speak up again. An uninvited feeling of guilt made its way to your heart and you couldn’t help but feel like all of this was your fault. You only wanted him to look at you, to make his life a little easier… but instead, you had somehow wrecked it.

After what seemed like an eternity, Orter was still dead silent, and you had to do something.

“I… I’m sorry…” you mutter quietly, not fully sure of what you did, but feeling the urge to apologise anyway. His state was more than concerning and you were the cause for it. “I… meant no harm, with whatever I did to you…”

And then something hits him. A feeling he’s probably rarely felt before: guilt. He looks up at you, and you clearly look like you’re holding back your tears as you shamefully look away from him. It takes all of his energy not to get angry— but at himself this time. He was the one who caused this situation, not you.

“It wasn’t your fault, only mine.” He sighed as he took off his glasses and started wiping them to distract himself from your sad expression that was awakening a myriad of new feelings within him. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I… did get quite used to your company. Please, feel free to speak as much as you want.”

He looks up at you, and despite the fact that he still isn’t smiling, his eyes are softer now, his expression is gentler and his voice has lost its authority. He is just asking you to speak to him. It isn’t even an order, he is actually pleading.

You can’t help this slight blush from creeping up to your cheeks as you try to regain your composure. You had gotten praised by Orter today, and he even pleaded with you and apologised? It was clearly your lucky day, so you thought you might as well try your luck. You cleared your throat a little.

“A-hem… so… maybe you… would like to have coffee with me this time?” You ask, timidly.

Orter merely chuckles, still not letting his face sport the ghost of a smile. He simply pushes his glasses up to his nose and stands up, pulling his coat back to his shoulders. 

“I would love to.”

¹: this man will cover his sashimi in honey and proclaim it’s still edible.

²: read → insistence. 

³: nonstop yapping.

⁴: empty, hollow. Not a single thought behind those eyes— or so he thinks.

⁵: you, sorry.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Words of Wisdom

Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

Synopsis: After years of having feelings for your lieutenant, Soap convices you to confess how you feel.

Warnings: none

You and the 141 had just gotten back from a rather tough mission. The mission itself was a success, but you had seen things within the intel you recovered you wish you could unsee. You were investigating a gang that was notorious for killing and torturing perceived enemies. The things on the tapes you recovered showed just how much pleasure the members took when doing such things. 

The boys had seemed rather undisturbed by the images, or rather they hid their emotions better than you had. You were shaken to the core, and silent on the plane ride home. The boys had tried their best to comfort you, to no avail. 

It was a few days later when Soap had approached you with the idea of joining him and the team at the local bar. Figuring it would be a great way to let off some steam, you obliged. 

You and Soap were sitting at a table at the local bar, watching Price, Gaz, and Ghost take turns at darts. You found your eyes lingering on Ghost. You had grown quite fond of the man since you two had started working together. The two of you just "clicked." Often finding yourselves in each other's company and enjoying each other's humor. You'd daresay the two of you were good friends.

"You know, you should just tell L.T. how you feel. Might be more effective than making googly eyes at him all the time." Soap chided, grinning from ear to ear as he finished off his beer. The Scotsman knew of your feelings for Ghost and had for some time. He swore to keep the information to himself, but that didn't mean he wouldn't nudge you from time to time to spill the beans to the masked man.

"I can't." You groaned, throwing your head in your hands. "Not only is it not ethical, as he's my lieutenant, but what if he rejects me? Johnny, I don't know how we'd come back from that."

"Never know until you try Lassie. Who knows, he may return your feelings." 

"I don't know." You huffed.

"Look, all I'm saying is what's the harm in putting yourself out there. The two of you deserve to be happy. Worst case, if he happens to reject you, I doubt he'd treat you any different. Man can be an arse, but it's clear he has some sort of soft spot for you." Soap said as he squeezed your shoulder gently. 

"I just think maybe he feels like he doesn't deserve anyone to care about him. He barely lets us get close to him as is. It's taken me years to get a fraction of the walls he has up, down." 

"True, I think possibly he just doesn't know how not to be "Ghost." Soap smiled sadly. "Maybe he needs someone to show him how to be himself again, in a way a friend can't."

You chuckled slightly, "Who knew you had so much wisdom in you, Johnny? Perhaps I should get you some more beers. Who knows what other words of wisdom the great Soap McTavish has in store."

"Oh you have no idea." Soap laughed. 

"I'm gonna go grab some air, I'll be back." You said, standing up to stretch. The air had gotten too stuffy, and you knew if you stared at Ghost any longer it would become too obvious. 

You made your way past the rowdy patrons of the bar, toward the steps for the roof access. As you opened the door the gust of cold wind hit your face, making you shiver.

You stared out into the night sky, watching your breath evaporate into the cold air. You stood there for a while, letting your thoughts wander, distracting yourself to the point you didn't hear the door open and shut behind you.

"Bloody freezing out here." You turned at the voice and saw Ghost walking toward you, rubbing his hands together. His usual skull mask was replaced with a simple black balaclava while donning a loose black hoodie and jeans. 

"That it is. Feels nice, though. That bar was stuffy as hell." You chuckled. 

Ghost said nothing in reply, just nodded his head as he came to stand next to you. 

The two of you stood in silence for a short while before he spoke up. "Wanted to make sure you were okay. Still seem pretty shaken up after that mission."

"Yeah, I'm good. Was a rough one, so I had a few drinks to shake it off." You stated plainly, picking at the chipped paint of the roof's railing. "Just was weighing on my mind more than I should've let it."

"You seem to have more on your mind than just the mission, Sergeant. You've been quiet tonight." Simon's gaze on you was intense. You could feel it burning into the side of your head.

"Alcohol has a tendency to run my brain a mile a minute. Came up here to try and quiet out my thoughts." You admitted, turning to meet his gaze. As your eyes met, you could see his expression soften. "And you? Doing okay?"

"Another day on the job." He grunted in response. "I'm willing to provide an ear if you need someone to talk to. Not always the best at advice, but my ears work wonders."

You found yourself staring at each other for a few moments. His expression still softened from before. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol or the look he held in his eyes, but you found yourself growing confident, so you decided to go for it. You would go crazy if it had gone on any longer without him knowing. 

"Can I speak freely then? And not to my lieutenant, to Simon."

"Course?" Simon looked perplexed at your request, but waited for you to continue. To say he was nervous about what you were going to say was an understatement.

"I want you to know that I see you. I really see you." You started nervously. There was no turning back now for you. Thinking of the words Johnny had said, you knew what you wanted to say. The question was, how would Simon take it? 

"Pardon?" Simon was even more perplexed at this.

"What I mean is… you have this facade that you carry around, making people believe that you're just some cold, distant man. I see through that. I see past Ghost, and I see Simon. Someone who is so worthy of being loved and cared for, someone who deserves happiness. I worry that perhaps you lost sight of him. I just want you to know that even though you may not see yourself as worthy, I do." 

Simon tensed at your words as they replayed over and over in his head. What exactly was it that you were trying to tell him? You were right, though, he didn't see himself as worthy of anything. After all he's lost in his life, he doesn't think he deserves having anyone close to him. 

Sensing his internal struggle, you continued. "I'm trying, poorly, to tell you that I care for you more than just as a friend. I have for a while. I was always too nervous to tell you because I didn't know how you'd react. And, frankly, I didn't want to lose you as a friend. I'd rather have that than not have you in my life at all." Your confidence was starting to falter. You knew he may not have much to say in reply, but you weren't expecting total silence. 

Simon only continued to stare at you, his dark eyes scanning your face, betraying none of the emotions he was actually feeling inside. He did care for you as more than just a friend. He's loved you for years, but believed he never deserved to have you like that. He had always been okay just being friends, as that's all he thought he deserved. There were so many things he wanted to say, but no words could convey what he was thinking, and all he could do was watch as your face fell. 

"I um. I'm sorry. Perhaps that was highly inappropriate of me. I shouldn't have said anything. We can just forget this happened, yeah? I'll catch you in the morning, sir." You whispered out, your emotions now hitting you like a truck. You didn't want to cry in front of Simon and make an even bigger fool of yourself. You wished you hadn't said anything, fearing now that things would never be the same for the two of you. 

You turned to start walking toward the door when his voice grabbed your attention. "Y/N."

You turned back to look at him, only to see that he had removed his balaclava. You'd never seen him without his mask before, and you couldn't help the small gasp that emitted from your mouth. 

You walked slowly toward him, admiring his features. His eyes were even more vibrant without the hindrance of his mask. You could see the freckles dusting his skin and the redness in his cheeks from the cold. To you, he was the most beautiful man you'd ever laid eyes on. 

Simon remained still, his eyes watching your reactions carefully. He was nervous how you'd react to seeing his face, but he figured this gesture was the only way he could show you how he felt.

A small smile was growing on your lips as you reached your hand out slowly toward his face, waiting for a sign from him that it was okay to touch him. He gave you a curt nod, so you placed your hand softly on the side of his cheek. His skin was warm and softer than you had expected. He closed his eyes at your touch and leaned into your palm slightly. 

"You are so handsome, Simon Riley." You breathed, stroking his cheek lightly. 

He opened his eyes at your words and looked down at you. You had both stood there staring intently at one another until Simon leaned forward to place his lips on yours. You sighed at the contact, pressing yourself into him further as you reciprocated the kiss.

He pulled away moments later with a hint of a smile on his face. "What do you say I take you back to base, make you a cup of tea? Too bloody cold out here."

"After you, sir." You beamed up at him, your cheeks now burning red from not only the cold but from Simon's kiss. 

He took your hand before placing his balaclava back on, and led you back down to the exit of the bar. As you passed Soap, you could see him wink at you, while throwing you a thumbs up. 

~~~~

A/N: I'm not sure if I wanted to turn this into a smutty part two as well or just leave as is. Hope you all enjoyed it!

[asexual-shelly]

In honor of lesbian visibility week, I present a full list of female characters from Total Drama who have canonically shown no attraction to men! (as far as I'm aware)

Staci - Only present for one episode and only spoke for one episode, having no lines in the finale. None of these lines hint at Staci displaying any interest in men.

Dawn - The closest thing I could find was the "I didn't know you were a beetle whisperer!" scene, but even then, that could easily be read as platonic. Svetlana - Similar case to Staci in that her lines are pretty limited due to being actively suppressed by Mike or Mal. However she has not, in fact, said anything that hints at her liking men in those few lines.

Sammy & Amy - Other than that one "Topher thinks you're fat" line of dialogue (which could easily be played off as Amy trying to mess with her), neither of them have shown any on-screen interest in men.

Scarlett - The only extensive interaction she has with men are Max, whom she DESPISES, and their alliance is only romantically framed for the sake of a gag.

Sugar - Nothing in canon hints at her liking men. She admires Leonard, but this is most likely due to his perceived magical abilities rather than any sort of attraction as she displays a similar interest in Max later on.

Tammy - Similar case to Staci, she only had a very brief speaking role in episode 1 and never in these lines was it implied she was attracted to men.

Mary & Ellody - Only here for a short time (with Mary only having dialogue in the episode she was eliminated in rip), but neither of them express interest in guys.

Laurie & Miles - Same deal as Mary and Ellody, they go pretty early overall but haven't been shown to like men.

Jen - You'd expect someone of her character archetype to mention looking for 'cute guys' or something similar, but surprisingly no? The closest thing she has would be her friendship with Tom, which is treated as 100% platonic by the show even if you don't take into account the fact that Tom is gay.

Taylor - Another surprising one imo, it's never stated or implied that she likes guys in the show, not even a passing mention from what I've seen which I could've sworn happened on first watch. Mandela effect I guess 🤷

Josee - Similar deal to Jen as far as I'm aware, being that her closest relationship to a guy is with a gay man and treated as platonic throughout the race.

Sanders - Pretty clear-cut, no scenes of her expressing interest in men or romance in general.

MacArthur - "What about Brody?" The only time she's shown to return his affection is during the finale and she's actively trying to throw him off his game by using his crush against him. She only asks Brody to call her in the Surfers ending, which she doesn't do at all in the Cadets ending implying that she's most likely only in it for the money.

Scary Girl/Lauren - While she does hold an interest in Damien, nothing in canon says she's attracted to him, only to the sound of his screams.

Nichelle - Too busy having no lines to talk about boys. seethingwithrage

Millie - Zero attraction to men in canon, the most interactions she has are with and about Priya. She's sorta friendly with Damien, but it doesn't rise anywhere above platonic (probably because she shoved him into a meat grinder but who knows) and actively seems to be disgusted by or otherwise pretty averse to most of the male cast.

MK - Has never been shown to be interested in guys or even romance in general. In fact, she actively seems to dislike it as seen in the episode where Caleb and Priya kiss where she goes “Yeah, that was sweet, but it’s also how you get mono” (this is ace mk propaganda btw). There was also Nichelle's intro in season 1 when she was looking at her starry-eyed, clearly a joke but yk still noteworthy.

Julia - My favorite lesbian <3 zero attraction or hints at attraction to men in canon + listen... we all watched season 2 you know what I'm talking about don't lie. The closest things she has to romantic interactions with men in canon are at most one-sided and always with her actively disliking said man on the other side (Wayne + maybe Ripper in season 1).

[raayllum]

What do you think it means for corruption to overwhelm someone? Do you think Callum will die or will something else happen to him? Also I thoroughly enjoyed the podcast! (This is theinnermechanismsofmymindtdp but I refuse to link my main blog….)

That's a good question, and one I've spent time thinking about in terms of what a Corrupted S7 Callum would look like. (I lean towards something that directly changes his outward appearance during the possession, which is also a convenient short hand for stakes and thereby recovery when it fades.)

Part of the reason this is somewhat tricky is because there's roughly three Versions of what TDP considers to be 'Corruption,' and because the series makes all of these things regularly overlap with one another.

1) Emotional corruption

This is evidenced by someone who is changing for the worse, which is mostly tethered through Soren's dialogue. This can involve becoming a 'monster' (as seen through Viren and Runaan in S6) due to the weight of their 'sins'.

This of course ties into the series' most consistent form of corruption, which is Literal

2) Corruption through dark magic use.

Viren and Claudia get their literally corrupted faces (similar in nature to Runaan's in the life and death portal) and what made the turning point happen in Lissa and Viren's relationship. This is also symbolic of what scared Callum straight in 2x08 and what continues to scare him in 6x03 ("I did it, I'm ruined, it's too late for me, who cares?"). As Soren notes, continued and regular dark magic usage can change people, even if Claudia insists otherwise ("But I'm not evil, it's me, you know me. I'm still the same person"), but that Viren and most likely Claudia successfully come back from said corruption (and in Viren's case, that's not exclusive to never doing dark magic again, either).

I think it's worth noting that thus far the corrupted face (Viren's from coining Kpp'Ar, and Claudia's in killing Sir Sparklepuff) has come from using a combo of deep and dark magic through the staff, and directly out of acts of love (at least in theory for Viren).

Soren also asks for and/or sees his family members change away from this form of literal, physical corruption as well, and we see that Callum's love for Rayla literally helps heal this corruption in him in S6.

3) Dark magic corruption through infection.

This is arguably the one where the previous notions of corruption are brought together, as Janai explains in 5x03:

Nearly a year ago we tried to reclaim Lux Aurea, but the dark mage's corruption was worse than we realized. It is like a plague. Dark magic infests the city. What life remains there has been twisted into monstrosities. [To Callum and Rayla] You don't get it, do you? We had to kill the infected! Our own people.

There's a few things to unpack here.

Dark magic corruption is being compared to a sickness and plague that infects and festers within. We also see this compared to Kpp'Ar's arm wound and other old wounds ("It is a wound that has been festering for a thousand years" 5x04).

Emotional corruption, bolstered by dark magic use, and corruption through infection can both turn people into "monsters". Both forms strip you of your perceived free will: the corrupted through usage monsters increasingly don't perceive their choices as choices ("I did what I had to do" / "I had to save him, I had no choice!" / "Finnegrin was going to kill you, I didn't have a choice!"). The corrupted through infection monsters are seemingly mindless killers, as Zubeia describes an increasingly complete loss of self (which is also what possession is):

Tis a scratch. A mere nothing. Oh, but it festers. Corrupted. Infected. Oh! I can feel my very being shattering from the inside out. I fear I'm losing everything.

Her love for Avizandum (and Zym), signified by a glowing chest heart, also helps her come back to herself and leave the nightmare (Janai describing things as a nightmares, Aaravos using nightmares to manipulate Callum) behind.

Under duress, you can be forced to kill these monsters in order to protect yourself, even if that means killing your own people / people you know and love.

And last but not least, Amaya also tethers all this back to the idea of change (as we saw most prominently under emotional corruption).

Janai wanted so badly to cleanse Lux Aurea, but we failed. The shadow monsters are dangerous killers. But even worse, just a single scratch

The infected became corrupted shadows in a matter of days.

This consequence of "just one scratch and it's over" is now, of course, the exact same set of stakes Callum has been presented following the successful Star-light truth ritual if he ever does dark magic. If he uses it one more time, it's 'over,' and he knows that, in addition to knowing it'd open back up Aaravos' ability to possess him.

But beware, if you ever use dark magic again, the darkness and corruption will overwhelm you.

(Because I have followed a dark path. I had become a monster. I'm a monster. I fought you, I tried to kill you! He's leading an army of darkness. It's not every day you have an army of 10,000 monster soldiers. The human mage, already tainted by darkness. What if I'm on a path of darkness? Shadow monsters. What life remains there has been twisted into monstrosities. You keep calling it a monster.)

Much like how dark magic corruption through usage isn't exclusive from emotional corruption (they have a tendency to go hand in hand, but it's not synonymous because thus far Callum has been our exception), I don't think dark magic corruption through infection is exclusive from dark magic corruption through usage dark magic. All of them are associated with darkness; all of them can turn you into a monster; all of them are tied to losing your identity and your free will.

This is basically a very long winded way of saying I think Callum being overwhelmed with darkness and corruption may look like a combination of all three of them. While there could either be an instantaneous flip (which works well for drama and potential time crunch), there could also be a slow build (more similar to Zubeia, which could offer up more hope for a fix before it happens fully, even if I think the dragang would ultimately be too late because... it's more dramatic and we gotta get the possession fight, don't we?).

At the very least, physical appearance wise, I'm expecting a corrupted face, if not a fully corrupted form like the Banther. (Partially because it matches up with how the dark magic rune glows red, rather than purple, in Callum's dark magic 2x08 dreams).

Post-corruption / possession / ordeal, Rayla (and/or Ezran) will somehow find a way to get him out of it and bring him back to himself. This is bolstered by her literally being his light to Aaravos' darkness in 4x02 framing wise, 4x07 dialogue wise ("Then take another path, dummy"), and 6x06 literally wise.

If he does die / Rayla kills him, I think it'd be temporary at best as while it'd set his slate clean, I don't think they'd do that a second time, and given that Callum now has to Make a Choice in order to be possessed, that works perfectly fine as him turning himself over to metaphorical death (Aaravos stripping away his identity) and literal in his mind (banking on Rayla fulfilling his promise). I don't think he needs a literal, physical one on top of it, but who knows.

If dark magic is a wound, it can be healed.

If corruption is a sickness, it can be cured.

If possession is a lack of agency, it can be restored.

And if it's darkness, you can find the light.

After all:

(Looks pointedly at mutual salvation theory from Aug 2022)

[obsessedwrhys]

Damaged Souls

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ Grieving him, fluff, angst, relationship between reader and Joel is plantonic (father figure), reader is like the stone cold typa person (this is for the traumatised kiddies!!!), this fic is almost like a prequel to my ellie fic, reader is fem!!

ᯓ★

From how you two became acquainted. You knew Joel through Tess and at the time you were still a kid. But what you didn't expect was for the grumpy man to end up taking care of you after Tess died, going from some guy who comes to visit frequently to the only person you trusted with your life.

Even when Joel was ready to kill everyone in a hospital to save Ellie, you too were ready to do the same. For her and for him. After everything that went down, you agreed to keep the truth about what happened from Ellie. It was like you two had a mutual understanding.

So the moment you three moved into Jacksons, things were somehow looking brighter for your life. Though even good things didn't last forever. Eventually Ellie found out about everything. Going as far as to stomping into your home to initiate an argument that left you two on bad terms.

Now you felt hopeless... the only friend you cared about gone like that.

The winter became colder. The breeze stronger.

You rest your hands on the fence as you stood at your front porch, with nothing to do but to just enjoy the scenery. You were in your sweater and wearing a beanie as well as putting on a pair of mittens. Even with the pretty view, your mind were clouded with worries, worries concerning you and Ellie.

Is it more lonely to be hated or ignored? You wondered.

"Hey" Your eyes perked up as you turned to your side to see Joel approaching your house.

"What are you doing here?" You asked but he just brushes your words off. You watch him step up on your porch.

"How you holdin' up kid?" He stands beside you, mirroring your posture.

"You don't need to ask me, I'm good, you should check up on Ellie instead" You said which had him nodding his head with an amused smirk.

"I know, you're capable... but I'm still askin" He looks at you but you couldn't bring yourself to even look at him.

In a way you felt embarrassed, you always did whenever he cared for you, because almost your whole life you never showed your need for it.

"Won'tcha talk to me? What's botherin' you? Hm?" He nudges you slightly, almost playfully.

You sigh in defeat.

"I'm... scared...." You uttered almost too quietly that if it weren't for the quiet storm he wouldn't have heard you.

"What are you scared of?"

"Everything. Whatever that happens next" You suddenly rest both your elbows on the fence without even realising, seeming like the nerves have gotten to you.

"I'm scared of ending up alone" You admitted and he nods to your words out of understanding.

"Life's full of surprises kid... it's best you let go of those worries, you ain't gonna survive if you keep thinking like that" He stands up, straightening his back.

"You speak like I have a choice"

"You do"

Just then, he grabbed you by the chin to have you face him. With his other hand, he presses the tip of his index finger on your forehead. You didn't fight back but just bat your eyelashes at him.

"These thoughts... they're nothin' but problems you've overcomplicate. One day you'll see that things are better than how you perceived it. I'm sayin' this cause I care about ya" He said, staring directly into your gaze.

"You think Ellie would forgive me? For killing multiple innocents for her?" You raised an eyebrow.

"We did what we had to" He said as he lets go of you to grab onto the fence, staring off into the forest.

"She doesn't seem to see it that way"

"Just give her time"

"That's what I've been doing"

He could tell that from your tone you were frustrated. He was too, Ellie has been ignoring him as well but for some reason he doesn't seem as affected as you are. It made you curious.

"How are you not upset by all this?" You asked.

"... well... this is the kind of things you've gotta deal with once you have kids" He chuckles softly to himself but he clears his throat when he realised you were genuinely interested in his reason.

"Look... what I'm tryna say is... you and Ellie... you're both like daughters to me. It don't matter if we fight or what, I'll still be patient with ya'll, no matter how long the time takes" He said, placing a hand on your shoulder that instinctively made you turn to look at him.

"And how long is that gonna take?" You said, your gaze softening without even noticing.

"As long as it needs to be"

His response leaving you silent for a while. You turned to look away, thinking of the right words to say before looking back at him, but even with the time taken to think, you couldn't bring yourself to say it. His hand from your shoulder now moving to your back to give you a comforting pat.

"I'll leave you to your morning routine, I know how much you hate people interruptin you" He pointed out but you could hear him chuckle as he said it.

Without realising it ,you watched him start to leave, his back turned to you as your mouth was agape. You wanted to call out to him to say what you wanted to say but you were also too embarrassed to do so... so you let him go.

What you didn't realise was that that would end up being your biggest mistake.

The next day you were sent to go on patrol with him, the patrol was going well until a heavy storm hit, next thing you know you both were swarmed with infected. Having to encounter another girl and saving her, she was able to lead you guys to somewhere safe. Only to be lead into another trap.

The sound of a gunshot going off had your heart race, your eyes widening at the sight of Joel having his knee shot. Even with your struggle against the people pinning you down, it wasn't enough but everything went pitch black the moment you endured a punch to the face.

Then it was quiet.

But your consciousness came back. Slowly cries of a familiar voice woke you up. You almost wished you hadn't opened your eyes when you saw the sight waiting for you. He was bloody, hardly recognisable. You could only watch in disbelief as he was being held by Ellie in her arms, tears streaming down her cheek.

Even then, during his funeral, you couldn't even show up. It was too much. You were there with him when it happened. You felt as though you could have stopped it. You knew something felt off so why didn't you notice anything sooner?

The guilt was like a void drowning you in.

Just like that you spent your day pondering about the what ifs and alternative scenarios of what could have been. You made yourself coffee but the sound of you pouring into your cup was soon interrupted by the sound of knocking on your front door.

You let out a sigh before putting down the cups and then heading off to check who it was. When you opened the door, for a split second, an image of Joel appeared and it made you froze in place. Your mind was busy registering what happened that Tommy, who's the person that knocked, stared at you concerningly.

"You alright?" He asked and your lips moved but no words came out.

"I uh yeah... fine... I just haven't had my coffee yet" You said, quickly thinking of an excuse for your behaviour. He nods, seeming convinced.

"Well I just wanted to drop by and see how you were doing. Lot of the folks were beginnin' to worry about ya, they say they haven't seen you around lately" He said and the reality of the outside world was crushing on you.

"I'm good" You said but his face was showing how he wasn't taking it.

"I highly doubt that... but I'm not sayin' I blame ya... everyone's going through it. I just hope you know you're not alone" He said, nodding his head at you out of encouragement.

"... thanks..." You could only say and he looks at you for a while to study your well being before finally leaving.

Even after he left, you didn't go back in your house to get back to your morning coffee. Instead your fingertips scratches at the wood of the door as you began to overthink, one thought overtaking the other rapidly. You've tried multiple solutions to solve this problem but none seemed to work so far. That was until you had an idea.

An idea you might hate but was willing to try.

Putting on your coat, you left the house and decided to walk towards your destination. On the way you could see multiple people going about their days. The sight of seeing parents getting along with their kids made your heart ache which made you look away.

You tend to distant yourselves from the kids at Jacksons.

It wasn't done out of hate or anything.

It was out of envy.

Their innocence were somehow still preserved from the cruelty of this world.

Because how is it that you never got to experience that at a young age?

And when you did experience the safety that you longed for from someone.

It eventually melts away like a lit candle... until it's nothing but just melted wax.

The sound of your shoes crunching on the snow stops the moment you stood at the location you had in mind. You could only stare down at him, his grave, decorated with flowers and messages. In a way you felt better knowing so many people looked up to him the way you did.

Then you looked around to make sure there was nobody nearby that could potentially see what you were doing. Being out in the open after shutting everyone out made you felt a sort of guilt. But you also wondered is it really guilt for putting yourself first?

You cleared your throat as you look back down at his grave. Your breath like smoke from the cold weather.

"I uh... I don't really know what to say..." You uttered and you stayed quiet for a moment before finally saying something again.

"I'm sorry... for everything. For letting this happen. You didn't deserve this" You shut your eyes, trying to control the pace of your breathing.

"I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared. I don't know what to do with myself now that you're not here. I want you back... fuck... e-every day I wish you'd just walk up to my house to give me one of your talks. Hh... I really miss you. I fucking miss your voice" You sobbed, tears welling up your eyes as your nose was clogged, making it hard for you to even breath.

"I know I suck and I'm sorry for always being such an asshole to you. Just come back. Please. I fucking beg you" You got on your knees and could only stare hopelessly at his grave. Some part of you inside still not accepting the reality of this.

"I wish I got to tell you how happy I would have been to be your daughter. You're a cool dad. You're the only dad I actually have in this hell hole. Somehow you made me feel loved" You said, the words you've wanted to tell him that day finally coming out.

"I don't wanna be alone. I don't wanna feel these things... please... please..." You trailed off, muttering to yourself that you failed to notice the butterfly fluttering around you... before settling down on his headstone.

The very fear that you've prayed would never come true had became reality.

You were now alone.

You really lost the very same people who said they would stay your side forever.

Your hands than clawed at the snow, the sadness in your chest slowly transforming into rage. Hatred. You could feel your head almost pop from it. The tears feeling cold under your burning cheek. You stare at his grave, your gaze sharp.

"I'm gonna hunt them down... I'll find whoever that girl is... and I'm gonna kill her even if it takes away what humanity I have left in me" You said, a promise.

The butterfly on the headstone flutters its wings at you, almost like it's trying to say something but soon it flies away. You simply watch it go before standing up on your feet and heading back, getting ready for your hunt for revenge.

[drtyfiction]

IMAGINE [2/2]

Oliver Quick x Y/N (she/her) Saltburn spoiler alert!!

[Part 01]

- You know, Oliver, I thought you were cleverer than that. Y/N invited me because she wanted to. They want me back, after all. She wants me back in Saltburn.

- And why would she want that?

Oliver's gaze shifts from frustration to a hint of anger. Restrained, inexpressive, repressed, but still anger. His rage can't really be perceived by his facial expressions, but it subtly leaks from deep within his eyes all the way to where Farleigh's sight can reach. Oliver stares at him with a slightly frightening fervor.

Despite still not knowing it, Farleigh should, indeed, be afraid.

- I don't know, I think she misses me. No, actually, I'm sure she misses me terribly. I will eventually call her mine, you see, Oliver. She puts on a certain act and tells me she's not really interested, but later, when I leave, she calls me back, as if nothing had ever happened. I'm sure she desires me as much as I've been craving her. They want me. Oh no, even better. They need me, Oliver. She has always needed me. - Farleigh gradually approached Oliver, facing him closely, until each could smell the alcohol coming off the other's breath. Farleigh also sensed that Oliver was wearing an expensive brand of perfume, probably one that belonged to Felix. - I'm part of this house, I always have been, just like her. You're here on vacation, just for a short visit. I'm permanent in Y/N's life and I'm a resident of Saltburn. This is just a short fling you're enjoying, but it will soon end. You'll dwell on it for the rest of your life, and you'll hold on to this moment for years to come. You'll tell your children about what you lived here. But you'll never, ever have any of it back, including her. I am the one who will always go back into her arms.

On that very moment, Oliver feels a bitter taste settle on his lips, surging like an exhilarating reflux from his stomach. He wishes he could have a drink to mask the stinging taste that instantly assaults his senses. However, he can't, as his cup remains empty. He looks again at the plastic bottom, then at Farleigh, and he can no longer hide the disgust that emerges on his face. He is no longer feeling anger towards him and all his self-centeredness, but rather disgust. A disgust that crawls up his gut and which he can no longer suppress. His face twitches and his upper lip rises, and Farleigh appears surprised to see, albeit briefly, a trace of real feeling spilling out of Oliver.

How dare Farleigh assume that you want him? Or even worse, how dare he think that you need him? Oliver knows that nothing Farleigh has just said is true, but he can't stop himself from being disgusted by all that he's heard. You've always been, in every way, above all the drama. Oliver is absolutely convinced that you wouldn't have invited Farleigh to the party and he was even more certain that you had never slept with him. He has spent so much time studying your personality and behavior that he knows with great confidence that you are an emotionally independent and collected person who would not submit to Farleigh's whims, no matter how persuasive he tries to be.

Now they're so close to each other that their faces are nearly touching. Oliver tries to turn around to peer at the house, but Farleigh grabs his face with both hands, forcing him to look deep into his brown eyes.

- Catch a train to someplace far away from here. This is not my dream, Oliver. It's my home. So no matter what happens, I always come back.

Farleigh releases him, and Oliver realizes that this was the last straw. He needs to take definitive action. As Farleigh walks away, Oliver mutters between his teeth:

- We’ll see.

There is nothing, or no one, that stands in the way between Oliver and his subject of desire. Everybody should know that. What he hid from everyone is that Oliver's greatest desire is you. He was advancing gradually, building up space and gaining on the territory so that, in the end, he would have you. However, because of what Farleigh has just said, Oliver realizes that he will need to revise his entire plan and take more intense, aggressive action. If he doesn't intervene, things will soon get out of hand, and he cannot possibly imagine losing you to anyone, especially when that someone is Farleigh.

[thesophistiicate]

What did you do to glow up?

so for context i'm 31 and i had a baby 2 years ago - answer below but bear with me - i feel the need to preface as i feel the focus on external beauty and glowing up on here is often super problematic. i sort of go in waves with my appearance, where i'll focus specifically on one area, then just go on living my life. then when i'm in the mood again, another area. i don't obsess over it, i think it can get toxic really fast. i enjoy the energy and benefits of looking my best but i don't feel that i need to necessarily look perfect or like a supermodel. i've had times of my life when i looked terrible and nothing bad happened lol. in general i have a very normal (but happy) life and my main goals are intellectual pursuits. but as a lover of beauty, in general i've spent the last 10-15 years thinking about how to look my best for the pleasure of it so it's hard to summarise everything.

i'm in the middle of a focused glow up at the moment and here's what i'm doing:

regular exercise (pilates 5x week, spin cycle when i can) and cleaning up my diet (mostly seasonal-ish whole foods, i love food and i'm not strict at all, i don't need to look like a model or celeb so i enjoy myself)

figuring out my hair care and styling. i like sleek shiny princess hair. i paid to see the most senior stylist possible at my salon and she also gave me a lot of tips and better understood how to cut my hair to suit me. worth it.

strict AM + PM skincare routine + medispa occasionally for the super intense facial treatment that gives me celebrity skin.

upgrading my personal style. especially paying more attention to my seasonal colours + silhouettes that actually flatter me. being brutally honest with what looks good or bad, which i think takes a really healthy mindset about your body. makes a ridiculous amount of difference to have attention to detail though.

learning how to do my make up to suit me. the clean girl look makes me look dead. i'm a dark winter in seasonal colour so i need more make up + more saturated colours. instant glow up.

working on my mindset, mental health, relationships, etc. honestly makes a major difference. no use prettifying the outside if you feel like shit inside (though also, care and attention to oneself = improved mental health, so it comes from both ends). life is a lot easier now that i'm happier and i feel i'm generally average-ish looking but i am perceived and treated as more attractive than i am (in terms of beauty standards) because i have a grounded and confident energy. really it's the energy that matters, not what you actually look like. that's what i believe most.

anyway, if there's any areas or ideas specifically anyone would like me to explore more, i'm happy to do so. just let me know.

[kriscommitscrimes]

IN-DEPTH CHARACTER ANALYSIS OF KRIS(MAS) DREEMURR

Hello! I've wanted to make this post for a WHILE now, since Kris is my favourite character ever, and I LOVE analyzing characters!!

Anyway before I start just remember that people consume media differently, and this is just what I've personally picked up on. You may interpret certain points I make differently to me, and that's ok! I'm just sharing MY analysis of Kris, at the end of the day, they're a character who has never spoken any dialogue that's visible to us, so their intentions behind certain things could be interpreted differently depending on who's consuming the media.

Kris will be EXCLUSIVELY referred to by they/them (they/them/themself specifically) pronouns throughout this post. If you refer to them as anything other than they/them while interacting with this post I'm gonna block you on the spot sorry.

ANALYSIS BELOW THE CUT BECAUSE IT'S LONG!!! TW there's probably some swearing I can't remember

By the way, I'm not including any screenshots because I. forgot to take them last time I played through Deltarune, but the next time that I do, I'm going to make like a revamped version of this post with screenshots. Sorry about that!!

Kris is their own, separate character from the player. This is a no-brainer if you've actually played through Deltarune and paid the slightest bit of attention to it. Kris is their own, separate character with a VERY distinct, interesting personality, who had a life before the events of Deltarune, and even still has control over some things that they say and do while in our control.

Kris isn't actually a quiet person. Kris, in reality, is an overdramatic, sassy, talkative person who often draws attention to themself by scaring people (especially Noelle), and causing scenes. They CONSTANTLY play mean spirited pranks on Noelle or pressure her into things (I'm NOT talking about Snowgrave, I'll get to thar later), like shaking the ferris wheel carriage despite Noelle being scared of heights, and telling her that ICE-E is real and eats kids. They still do this during the events for Deltarune, like if you go against Noelle's wishes and pet the cheese, Kris strokes it like a cat, and if you give Noelle a healing item called a Choco Diamond, she says something along the lines of 'Umm, it's ok, Kris, I'll share', and both of them get healed. We don't choose for Kris to force Noelle to share, that's a decision they make. As for drawing attention to themself, the first thing that comes to mind is they falling to the ground and sulking when they're too short and weak to play Queen's arcade machine, or them barking at Noelle when she offers them a dog treat. They're loud and impulsive, shown when they eat the pie at the end of chapter one, repeatedly kicking the robot in the basement when nothing happens originally before the Sneo fight, eating all of the chocolate Undyne gives them to give to Alphys if you interact with the box, and screaming that they're normal if you call Toriel after watching her conversation with Alphys at the start of chapter two. Speaking of which...

Kris seems to have identity issues. This is one of the things here that everyone in the fandom is kind of already aware of, but this is a full character analysis, so it's still important to mention. Kris is the only human in Hometown, but desperately wants to be perceived as normal. They scream it at Toriel like I mentioned earlier, they wore a headband with red horns on it when they were little to look more like a boss monster, and they seem actively disgusting or even frightened by other humans. They also seem to be living in their brother's shadow a bit, which may be why they like drawing attention to themself. Everything I've said about their personality seems to be a little on the negative side so far, but everyone in Hometown knows their name, and seems to quite like them, so why is this? Well...

Kris is charming, well-spoken, and funny. They're a prankster known for pulling mean-spirited pranks on people, but even still characters like Noelle look back at those things fondly, and everyone in Hometown seems to like spending time with Kris. Kris' flirting abilities are pretty obvious, and are used to win over loads of Darkners, not to mention their ability to formulate a compelling speech on the spot, as shown during the first Queen battle when toasting to her. They easily win people over, especially if they like a person, I mean, they became best friends with their former bully in a DAY! A DAY!!! People seem to find them just genuinely fun to hang around, probably due to them just being a funny, charming, somewhat balls of the walls kinda person.

Kris is NOT evil or malicious. This is one of the most important points I've wanted to make on this post. I've seen the theory that Kris is evil because they don't actively do anything to prevent Snowgrave from happening tossed around and I'm here to say that that is actually fucking stupid sorry. Normally I HATE being mean about people's theories because, like I said, everyone consumes media differently, but that one is just genuinely terrible. I'd say it's WAY more likely that as Noelle gets strong, out control over Kris becomes stronger. Normally, when we choose an option to make Kris say or do something, they ELABORATE on that, which is confirmed by how characters interact with them. We just can't see them speaking to give the illusion that they're a blank slate, under our full control. But, during Snowgrave, they just say EXACTLY what you tell them to say. If you tell them to say 'We're something else', they just say 'We're something else'. If you tell them to say 'Proceed', they just say 'Proceed'. Sure, you could put this towards them not caring, but after Berdly is frozen and you reunite with Ralsei and Susie, both of them say that Kris looks HURT. And later on, they REFUSE to go and see Noelle in her room. The refuse to THINK about it. They're not happy with what happened. They didn't want to go around freezing people. But the one thing that Really stood out to me, was during the Snowgrave Spamton Neo fight. Near the end, you have the option to call Ralsei and Susie for help, which prompts the flavour text; 'Kris called for Susie and Ralsei... But nobody came'. After that, you have to call Noelle for help to finish the battle, which prompts the dialogue; 'You called for Noelle'. Spamton states that Kris could barely whisper her name. They're trying to stop you from calling for her. Those aren't their words. I think that kind of confirms that they didn't want Snowgrave to happen. Kris is just a funny teenager with identity issues, they're not evil. Sorry evil Kris fans.

Kris probably isn't the Roaring Knight. They're A knight, but not THE knight. So far, they don't REALLY have any motivation for opening the first two fountains that I'm aware of, and I doubt they knew they could open a fountain until Queen's speech at the end of Chapter 2. At the end of Chapter 2, however, they do seem to have a motivation to open a fountain. They (presumably) slash Toriel's tyres to stop her from leaving the house to go and get flour. They want her to see the Dark World. And if you choose the option to talk to Undyne about the Dark World, Kris explains it to her in FULL DETAIL, but she brushes it off as a joke. Toriel finding her tyres slashed leads her to call the guards, and Kris leaves the door of the house wide open. They want Undyne to see the Dark World, I don't know WHY, but they do for some reason. But I REALLY doubt they're the Roaring Knight, they just don't have the motivation, and if it is them, it would be really weird for Toby to reveal that so early. I really doubt that kid wants to bring on the end of the world.

That's all I have for now!! Expect a more fleshed out version of this next time I play Deltarune with screenshots and such, though I may wait until chapter 3 and 4 come out! Thanks for reading!