#he only dresses like this for a certain telepath

[uniquecellest]

NSFW MINORS DNI

slutty magneto rocking a skirt for his professor 😏😏😏

[maythevoidnotscreamback]

My opinion given form: Zelda’s True Identity is Hylia and always has been

I’ve been thinking about how Rhoam and everyone else, Zelda too if unconvincingly, is so freaking adamant that “prayer will unlock her Sealing Power” when we see the lie in the second-to-last memory of BotW. And I’ve been wondering… why? Why is almost everyone adamant about this, especially when she’s been doing it for over a decade with nothing but grief and despair to show for it?! 

I mean, she’s a frickin’ scientist! She must’ve heard the phrase “to do the exact same thing over and over again and expecting different results is a mark of insanity”. So why?!

I theorize that it’s because of who Zelda is that it doesn’t work for her. She’s the Spirit Maiden, the Princess of Destiny, the Goddess Hylia reborn. Which means that, just like Link, certain rules don’t apply to her that it might with anyone else. The Power of her Line might truly be ‘unlocked’ through prayer, (that is, if an unintentional game of Telephone hasn’t been going on for generations {I.E: one daughter had trouble with accessing her power and her mother taught/showed her how but being a child she hadn’t realized that she was a rare exception; that she hadn’t needed to teach her own daughter(s) how to access their power who’d she’d then tell they had to do the same when the next generation came about} until ‘thought’ became ‘fact’) but that might only apply to those of her Line who aren’t the one whose Soul is the originator of said Power. Why? Well, I imagine that trying to pray to yourself for a power you most likely already possess, (that you were born with, you just have no idea or remember how to use it) would be quite stupid, not to mention impossible.

Basically, the analogy I'm gonna use is: Before Calamity (or the Day of the Burning Fields) struck poor Zelda is standing out in the freezing cold with nothing but a flimsy white dress to protect her, knocking on a locked door belonging to a house that has all the lights on. Thing is, she’s been told all her life, maybe even by her mother too before her death, that she has to wait until the owner answers to be let inside. What she doesn’t know, due to various popular beliefs regarding reincarnation about remembering Everything in the Inbetween but forgetting once reborn, is that the house belongs to her and the key to open the door is within her knocking fist, the key the only reason she’s not died of hypothermia, but she’s too numb to feel it and too cold to unclench her fist. It’s only because of Link coming along and trying all he can to warm her back up, neither noticing something drop at their feet while Zelda struggles against him in her ignorant stubbornness, before he finally collapses once everything is almost said and done because, despite being a man and a helluva lot more dressed and prepared for the weather, Zelda has been in the cold for so long she doesn’t feel it enough for it to affect her anymore, not to mention that Link had been using a lot of his own energy trying to help her, to keep her alive, especially once she stopped fighting him. It is only when she goes to help him in return that she sees the key needed to get inside the oh-so warm house and decides ‘damn the rules’ to save him.

“But what about After Calamity when Link wakes up” I hear you cry, “he prays to Hylia for more Stamina or Health in exchange for four Spirit Orbs and She responds! If what you say is true then that’s Zelda!” I hear you continue. “And?!” I’d reply. Who’s to say it isn’t Zelda in her capacity as Hylia?! She can telepathically contact Link every Blood Moon and at other various points depending on how you play the game. Not to mention that she admits that she watched every step of his journey even though she was busy holding Calamity in the castle. Like, just because going to the statue doesn’t trigger a Voice-over doesn’t mean that it can’t be Zelda. Hell, it could be that it being a statue, or the spoiler of what happened to her during TotK, is causing a type of ‘interference’ that makes her sound different or that ‘logic’ says is impossible. And that’s without looking at the whole... thing regarding the Hero’s Shade in Twilight Princess! The Hero’s Shade is meant to be MM!Link but if he and TP!Link are both meant to be the same person as carriers of the Hero’s Soul then that should be impossible, right? 

Wrong! 

It works if one uses the idea that the Soul of the Hero is meant to be the template that fashions “Link”. I am fully of the HC belief that just like Zelda originates from Hylia and Ganondorf originates from Demise, that ‘Link’ originates from the Fierce Deity/Kishin. The way I see it, the Hero’s Soul is meant to be a snake and each ‘life’ it lives is the skin it sheds once over. In the case of the Hero’s Shade and TP!Link it’s that said ‘skin’ had too much baggage to dissolve into the ether, to which happens once his ‘regrets are resolved’, as the others before it had. That could be what happens in BotW and TotK. Zelda’s body and soul have been separated in both games (if differently) if you think about it, so her acting as Hylia once in the Spirit Realm or what-have-you wouldn’t be all that implausible, if I may say so.

It’s just that various people, in life and fiction, have made mention that the more one Believes in something the more power it has. So, the whole thing where, in previous games, the Divinity/Religion/Lore of Hyrule had Three Golden Goddesses who created the world before SS messed with it by adding Hylia as a Lesser Goddess, as the original Guardian/Protector of the Triforce before she gave up her Divinity to reincarnate as a mortal alongside Her Hero, a Goddess who had apparently been there practically from the beginning and been forgotten until some point before BotW where she seems to be the only Goddess known to be worshiped by almost everyone in Hyrule is so sad. Hell, the Temple of Time, the biggest building on the Great Plateau even Before Calamity, has Her statue while the other buildings, as seen in AoC, only have pews even though they’re meant to be dedicated to said Golden Goddesses. The Goddesses that’re supposed to be above Hylia; maybe even created her as they created the Triforce and Hyrule.

All that aside, one has to ask: with there being Zelda's named every frickin' generation of the Royal Family, if not every female member and middle names used to differentiate who's who, then how does one find the one meant to be the Princess of Destiny? Especially if the Hero hasn't been found quite yet to say she'll be needed to fight alongside him or vise-versa, so to speak? Like, if the Queen had no problem manifesting her Power then why/how did she die before she could teach Zelda? Why did Zelda live if her Mother hadn't? I believe that, just like Link, Zelda also reincarnates and thus provided just a bit of Special Protection that works like Divine Providence. It's just that, unlike Link who only needs a proper vessel that can handle the Hero's Soul (because I'm of the HC opinion that it's said Soul that makes him and his blood special, not that he's descendant from a Special or Specific Line {not always a Knight's legacy/his own descendant}; the Sword is just meant to be physical proof of it) and what it'll have to go through, her reincarnation is meant to be through successive descendants. Her Line has to continue unless they don't want Hylia to reincarnate again to help her Hero when the Curse of Hatred manifests/rears its ugly head again. I say this because of how the Curse has been structured, "Those who share the blood of the goddess and the spirit of the hero..." which implies that it's a Goddess Descendant, or at least SS!Zelda's Descendant for those who're of the opinion that Hylia returned to her role as a Guardian Goddess once her current Mortal body perished (I don't agree to such, mind you, but that's just my opinion), and a person with the Hero's Spirit, absolutely no mention whatsoever of there being a blood connection between said Soul/Spirit's successor and predecessor just that the person who faces him has said Soul/Spirit, that'll face his Curse alongside one another eventually.

Because as fun as it is seeing authors attempting to make connections on how the Hero's Bloodline might've continued so that he'd reincarnate into his own Bloodline too, or at least for those who want to do a kinda angsty aside/bit for their story when said Bloodline 'perishes' or what-have-you, ("Forest of Ghosts" by Seren_Knight01 over on Ao3 is a good example) it's also kinda stupid because of how the Timeline Split goes. It sorta-kinda works for WW because of the plot point of 'Hero didn't come back' and 'Master Sword has lost its Power to Repel Evil because the Soul she's attached to has become non-existent due to the Sage of Time sending him back'. But then the same problem exists for the 'Hero Perishes' Branch. When would he have had time to sire a child? Granted, one could say 'one of his Blood but somewhere to the side' but unless that same or similar relative(s) had all been killed off in the 'Hero's Victorious' Branch it still makes it not make sense. As such, my opinion is that the Hero's Soul/Spirit is not bound to his own Line.

As it is, I have a kinda HC/Story Idea on how being the Hero is more than just being Hyrule's Saviour, at least when it comes to the Princess of Destiny, that could work for those who like the idea of Zelda and Link being SoulMates like me. It should be in my Story Idea tag mentioning Kirin/Qirin in the title if you'd like to look for inspiration for a story. Don't have to if you don't want to though. :)

All that aside, what do you think? Did anything not make sense?

[faerievampling]

Killing Time

Chapter 6: Blind

Word Count: 4k

Pairing: Soft Ascended Astarion x Female Tav/Reader

Summary: After thousands of years together, Astarion and his consort go on another adventure. After Astarion is forced to return back to Faerún for the evening, Tav must attend a Githyanki banquet alone.

Link to Ao3!

Masterlist

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5.

Next Chapter

Warnings: 18+. Mention of sex. Light Mind Control. Kidnapping.

You give yourself a look over just to ensure everything is in place: your hair was braided with such elegance it could have brought tears to your eyes, and the earrings that Astarion had suggested paired brilliantly with your dress. They were a simple diamond, likely dug out by kobolds or dwarves somewhere in Neverwinter. The gems hadn’t been particularly expensive and there was no great story behind their purchase: Astarion had simply bought them for you because he thought they would look nice on you.

You had wanted to pass on wearing a necklace; between the earrings and braids, there was just a little too ‘much’ going on with your look, but Astarion had insisted.

The necklace provided you with a gentle warding bond. The gem of the necklace twinkled when the spell activated.

“Lover, surely this isn’t needed,” You had said while Astarion nervously adjusted your ensemble, smoothing away wisps in your hair and ensuring your makeup hadn’t smudged, your lips swollen from his incessant kissing. Astarion had remarked that you should be thanking him for the natural lip plumper, which only added to your supernatural, earth-shattering beauty.

“Madame,” Cynthia says from behind you, her voice light and tentative. You couldnt stop thinking about how helpless Astarion felt before walking through the portal back to Faerún, leaving you, Ruth, and Cynthia behind at the crèche.

He will be back. Later tonight. He promised. He will be back, you thought to yourself. You could sense Astarion’s anxiety amidst his occupation. He had told you not to worry, as if that was even possible.

“Yes?” You answer, looking at Cynthia’s reflection. She also looked quite lovely, and wore a blue gown, which was lovely with her blond hair and grey eyes. She smiles at you.

“Master wants me to remind you to blink and smile. But there is a certain ‘statuesque’ beauty about you when you aren’t thinking about it.” Cynthia’s eyes dart away from yours in the mirror, afraid she has been too casual with you, but you give her a little smile, as friendly as you can muster on that ancient face of yours.

“How interesting of you to say,” You reply, your voice even and light. You try your best not to be too robotic, reminding yourself of Astarion’s suave ease at mortal communication. “Are you excited for the banquet?”

Cynthia beams behind you. “I am. Very much.” Her heart is racing. You can sense her excitement.

You turn to her, nodding your head as her eyes drink you in. “Any last adjustments?” You ask, knowing Astarion would want you to look your best. He had told you to represent your family well in his absence, and you intended to do so.

The distance almost makes you feel pain, which is unusual; but you remember something you read in a book, once, about physical manifestations of emotional pain. You wondered if that idea was applicable to vampires with telepathic bonds, too. Astarion had been nearly distraught having to leave you. But you really couldn’t dwell on that now.

Cynthia takes a moment to thoroughly inspect you. “None. Master did well to do those himself, the expert that he is.”

You nod before opening the door to your chamber(if you could call it that; your room was certainly better than the last, but nothing quite like your boudoir at home), allowing Ruth to come in. His eyes were on you first, simply because he couldn’t help it: the two of you smelled distinctly of Astarion, which would always be attractive to you simply because he was your creator.

Ruth nodded to you. “Stunning, Madame,” he says politely before turning to Cynthia, the true object of his desire, you realize. You can smell the arousal on them alike, and Cynthia’s beat has gone between her legs.

Looking at the two of them reminds of the ‘before’ times. And that reminds you that you’re about to go party with a horde of gith without your husband. You think about reaching out to him, because surely he feels your growing anxiety; you are beginning to get angry, feeling as if he’s ignoring you.

But the rational part of your brain knows your anger is misplaced. You take a deep breath, startling both Ruth and Cynthia in the process, who’ve become lost in each other's eyes.

You take the crook of Ruth’s arm as you exit your chamber, Cynthia trailing behind the two of you. This was the way of the court: since you were absent your husband, any male escort would do. Servants, like Cynthia, don’t get an escort. Simply, your royal life was far more valuable than hers.

But you aren’t in court, are you? You think before turning to Cynthia, letting go of Ruth’s arm as you wave her closer. You promptly switch places with them, choosing to walk alone as the couple strolled in front of you.

Walking down the long hallway, you quietly observe the pair; when Cynthia rests her head on Ruth’s shoulder for a moment, snuggling up to him for a quick hug, you realize how happy your underlings probably were that they had their own room now. A quick look into Cynthia’s mind confirms your theory: although their relationship was in its infancy, these two made love often, and Ruth regularly fed from his darling.

Cynthia hadn’t been the first of Ruth’s lovers. Ruth did this often: he would devote himself to one human after another, and be entirely distraught upon their death. He never asked Astarion to turn any of his lovers, because that was against the rules.

Ruth seemed to rather like Cynthia, you think, but you had never paid attention to the others, so you couldn’t really say if things were different for him and your new lady servant.

The other spawn weren’t so monogamous as Ruth. You knew Marwa had a string of lovers but never a steady relationship. Astarion’s other two spawn, Ygritte and Apholso, often tangled together. If there was ever any drama between the two, neither of you heard of it, which was another one of Astarion’s rules: the lives of the spawn needn’t ever disrupt the lives or relationship of either Astarion or his consort.

You’ve lost yourself in a memory when you nearly stumble into the pair in front of you as you reach the ballroom of the spire.

It was far grander than you had imagined: the walls were smoothed, but still a rocky crystal that seemed to illuminate on its own volition, reflecting off of the milky white floors which resembled ice.

The gith are dressed up, and much to you and Cynthia’s dismay, pink was surely in-style among the gith women. But it was no matter: the moment you walked into the room, many eyes were on the three of you.

“Tav,” A familiar voice called from beside you, and you turn to see Lae’zel, reaching her hand out towards you to take your arm. You accept, allowing her to lead you towards a more intimate corner of the hall, Ruth and Cynthia on your heels.

There was a lot of gith here. You and Ruth are already looking at each other nervously: him moreso than you, even though you had missed your second feeding. The spawn’s vampiric hunger was far greater than your own, far more painful and constant. That didn’t really change your discomfort, but it certainly made Astarion feel better about the whole ordeal.

You knew the two of you needed something to occupy yourselves; excusing yourself from your group, you grab two glasses of wine from a serving table, handing one to Ruth as you begin to nurse on your glass of red.

Ruth does the same, and Cynthia is looking at him as if she’s worried. This strikes remembrance within you, when you once worried for Astarion’s hunger.

You notice Lae’zel is wearing a rather pretty dress, one that shows off her lovely neck; Lae’zel’s cleavage peeks out of the hem slightly, and you can’t help but steal a glance. The dress is a dark chocolate color, complimenting her green skin and orange hair well. She looked so much softer than normal, and you wonder if you had ever seen her this way.

You think maybe you should compliment her, but instead you focus on your red wine and try to stop thinking about how her skin would taste on your tongue as you slide your fangs into her—

“Where is Astarion?” Lae’zel asks, one eyebrow raised in inquiry.

As your eyes sweep the room, you start to feel a disturbance, and you know something is wrong. You still for a moment, time seeming to slow down as you focus your senses on the world around you: the smell of sweat and perfume and blood beneath skin, the warm moisture in the air touching you behind your ears, beneath your breasts, the sound of the casual music and the chatter mixed with laughter. You wait.

Ruth answers Lae’zel’s question. Because you are waiting.

“My lady –“ Ruth begins, but you bring your hand to his shoulder, patting him.

“Shh.”

But nothing happens. The banquet continues on like normal and you decide to return to the others, giving them the fakest smile you can muster.

“Darling darling darling darling darling.” You’ve involuntarily reached out, feeling Astarion’s quiet presence. He acknowledges but doesn’t reply, understanding that you’re both rather antsy.

Before you know it, your warband descends on you. Ziir’o, Quinel, and Joss wear a traditional Githyanki garb, an elegant suit tailored with thread made from intelligent beings rather than cotton or silk. It was an old tradition, one that existed far before Vlaakith or Orpheus ruled, where a young warrior would skin their first kill, using its materials to create a garb in a show of honor.

You thought it was a rather vicious tradition, one you admired. The boys looked handsome, and the three of them blush when you say so.

Marg’o and Chae each wore gowns; you and Cynthia shoot each other a look after taking in Marg’o’s pink gown. Chae, despite how stern she usually was, looked rather soft and lovely in a golden gown. The other five, who weren’t so keen on you, lingered about, greeting you curtly.

“Where’s your husband, Tav?” Marg’o asks with a blush. You couldn’t blame her for having a crush on Astarion, and you thought it rather cute.

“Not far. Just handling some business. He’s never truly away from me.” This was a lie, of course, but nobody needed to know that.

“Will he arrive in time for dinner? He knows Orpheus expects him.” Lae’zel says; it would have knocked the wind out of you if you hadn’t been undead. Instead, you were merely shocked.

You think for a moment nobody told you of Orpheus’s coming, but you knew it was more likely you had heard of it and hadn’t thought it important.

“I’m not sure,” You say as you reach out to Astarion, who is feeling nothing but frustration and anxiety. You can sense how badly he wants needs to be with you.

There is more small talk, but you ignore it, holding onto your connection with your husband. You know Astarion really doesn’t give a shit about Orpheus at this moment: surely, he wanted to please him, for alliance purposes or whatever, but what was going on at home took precedent.

He told you not to worry about that pesky war the mortals are having. Men and women (and some children, you are told) from all over Faerún are engaged in conflicts; but you have seen many nations rise and fall, so how different could this next one be?

But maybe your wealth was being threatened. And with Lord Geldon Moth in the mix, the Ancunín power and fortune was in need of not only defense: you think you should start to fight back. Maybe Astarion should create that spawn army, gather a few Githyanki forces storm the gates of wherever the hell Moth’s estate was, kill him, his consorts, all his spawn, all his thralls, and fuck your gorgeous husband on whatever excuse of a throne Moth sat on.

When the feast was finally called, you took Ruth by the arm, Lae’zel leading the two of you to the grand hall. There were rows of long tables filled with gith bodies as the banquet was brought to a semblance of order: in the back of the room, atop a platform, was a long, elegant table with a grand chair at its center.

The table and throne were made from wood and bone, carved magnificently; the legs of each resembling the tail of a dragon.

You take Astarion’s seat, directly next to the throne, and Ruth takes your seat next to you. Cynthia is made to stand behind you: you almost feel bad for her, but it was to be expected. The dinner felt more formal, more serious, and when everyone was largely settled, the dinner hall was hushed. There was a little quiet chatter, but hardly the assault of the ears that was the hall when you arrived.

The heartbeats of many thrummed in your ear, slamming against your eardrum amongst the quiet. You realize you’d never let go of Ruth’s arm, gripping it with such strength that you drew blood with your long nails. Ruth, equally if not more so bothered, gripped you back in kind, his hand covering yours. It takes you a moment to realize he’s trying to get your attention.

Ruth could telepathically communicate with Astarion, who could play telephone with you, if he so chose. But you could also easily read Ruth’s mind, and he knew this, so he signaled to tell you to peek inside.

‘We shouldn’t be here without Master Astarion. Too difficult, too difficult. Not enough blood. Cynthia is so delicious. Eat her whole.’ Ruth’s thoughts accidentally waved to Cynthia’s neck and breasts; ignoring his more lewd thoughts, you shake your head at him.

You try urging him to keep still, to stay calm, and to follow the rules of ‘Master’. But that feeling of apprehension in your gut hadn’t left, and you felt that little lump in your throat get bigger the more you lied to Ruth.

“It shall be alright, but we musnt make a scene. We would be punished,” You think that you would probably enjoy your punishment and Ruth decidedly wouldn’t. But the lying thing seemed to work, and Ruth was calming down.

“Think about your darling. Think about Cynthia. When I think about my husband, I do better to behave.” You’re still lying, but you know this is true for Ruth. You often did what you wanted, regardless of what Astarion thought. “You don’t want her to think you're a monster.”

Astarion didn’t care if you were a monster – as long as he could love and adore you, he would. But this wasn’t the case for Ruth. The look on his face signals understanding, and he nods with you in agreement.

“Don’t tell me something is the matter. Now is not the time,” Lae’zel rasps from beside Ruth, leaning over him. The royal procession was beginning, and everyone who had a seat stood: you and Ruth quickly followed suit after a single dirty look from Lae’zel.

You and Ruth continued to grip each other as the resplendent Orpheus was finally seen, his blue eyes fixated on you the moment he saw you.

“Orpheus is here,” You direct to Astarion, a strained reluctance in your message you knew your husband couldn’t ignore.

“I can only imagine how lovely you look right now. Haven’t stopped thinking about your perfect tits since I arrived in Faerún. You know what to do, my love.” Sadly, this signaled the end of your correspondence, because Astarion’s attention was quickly stolen away from you again. But you had greater things to worry about, like the Githyanki King standing before you.

But you did know what to do: throw on the vampiric charm, ignore that strange inkling of your psychic abilities, and do your best not to eat anyone. You regurgitate this back to Ruth, minus the psychic thing, of course.

Orpheus nods to you as he finally takes his seat, and the rest of the room relaxes. There are no great speeches, only the clanking of classes and the sound of music playing in the background as the room was brought to life.

Your discussion with Orpheus happens in a blur. You hardly remember him, your knowledge being from Astarion’s memory of the event, but Orpheus certainly remembers you.

“Time passes differently for us in the Astral Sea. It feels like not so long ago you and Lae’zel freed me from Vlaakith.”

You smile politely, careful not to show too much fang. “I apologize for my Lord Husband’s absence. There was…business to attend to.”

“It’s quite alright. Your Lord commands the Ancunín fortune and the armies and governments of Faerún, but you were the one I was keen on seeing. You were the one who slayed a devil and a ghaik ally to free me.” You think your vampiric charm is working a little too well on Orpheus. Peeking into his mind, this King was thinking of how delicious it would be to put you on your knees and stuff his cock in your mouth right in front of your husband.

Despite his lewd thoughts, there was a glitter in the man’s eyes, and it was clear he still admired you greatly.

When the food arrives, everyone digs in, except for you: one of the two vampires in existence who could actually enjoy the taste of food, but you didn’t care for it. The servants and other underlings ate in the kitchen, and as the movement in the dining hall increases, you find yourself sitting next to Lae’zel, Ruth having gone to the kitchens to sit with Cynthia.

“How has your evening been, so far?” Lae’zel asks as she sips on her wine, her eyes sweeping over you in lustful praise.

“Without Astarion?” You shake your head, pushing the food around your plate. “Any event without him is a bore.”

This was simply the truth: you had nobody to gossip with, nobody to laugh at others with, nobody to bother with bratty complaints or loving touches.

‘I shouldn’t be surprised a spawn loves her shackles, it’s in their nature…’

“Is it really so unbelievable to you that I simply love my husband? That I am happy with my arrangement?” You blurt, decidedly not caring if you were being rude or not.

Lae’zel is looking at you deeply. Thump. Thump. Thump. “Must you read my mind?”

“Must you think such terrible things of me?”

“I won’t forgive him for how he treated you. How he turned you into a spawn. How he made you kneel for him. I never –“ Lae’zel looks away, and you smell the coming of her tears. “I never would have done the things he did. I loved you. I respected you. To watch you tolerate that was your folly.”

Despite her words, Lae’zel’s thoughts were clear as day to you: ‘I still love you, Tav. I want you. I want you to still want me.’

It would be so easy to drain this one: you knew Lae’zel would be putty in your claws as you sucked her dry and caressed her lifeless body.

You blink at her, your mind feeling hot with a flash of anger. That was so long ago. Things are different now, you think, but no words come out of your mouth. You stand gracefully, turning only a few heads as you make your way out to the side of the hall, avoiding having to walk down the center of the room.

You hardly have time to process your aggravating conversation when you are overcome with a wave of nausea, your mind assaulted by a vision of utter darkness, one that is so black that it reminds you of nothingness. You only know you haven’t lost consciousness because your sense of awareness never leaves.

Taking a deep breath, you try to collect yourself, leading yourself around the corner to a secluded walkway. The smell of alcohol is pungent in your nose as you hear the shuffling of footsteps behind you: you know there is a familiar group of warriors coming down the hallway, and one is already calling out to you.

“Tav! You must try this, it’s a rare ale made in the Astral Sea –“ The smile on Ziir’o’s boyish face drops at the sight of you. “Tav?”

“Are you alright?” Joss asks, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

As the group gets closer, your mind flits to that vision of nothingness. You feel a great surge in your connection with Astarion, and you know he is already on his way to you. To protect you from whatever it is that is happening. He’s racing towards you, but…

it’s

already

upon

you

Your thoughts become fragmented as that nothiness swarms you. You hear those familiar voices call out your name as you feel a strange sensation behind you, like you are standing at the edge of a cliff and you can feel the harsh winds at your back, threatening to knock you over the edge: you are unsteady, you are uneasy, and you are alone.

Astarion is calling out to you but you can’t discern his message; you can only feel his panic, his horror as his deepest fears are realized, and you feel your cheeks wet as even your vision goes dark.

“Astarion. Astarion. Astarion!” You’re screaming out to him, but you have no idea if he can hear you, because you receive nothing in response. The words seem to bounce around your empty mind.

Nothing: there is something about the absence of existence that is instinctually frightening to a vampire. Nothing is both a feeling and a state of being that vampires try to avoid.

You feel the world of the créche slip away from you as you finally fall off the cliff edge, into that strange breeze that violently whips around you.

“Astarion?” You keep reaching out to your bonded mate, desperate for him to respond.

Even your nose is blind. You start to think that maybe you’re dead when you no can longer feel your body. You don’t know how long you stay like this for, in this state where only your consciousness seems to exist with itself. You don’t think about much other than Astarion, who will surely come and save you at some point, even if you are dead.

Your hearing is the first to come back to you: someone is shuffling around you, maybe even pacing. For a moment, you think maybe it’s Astarion, until your sense of smell comes back online: nothing about wherever you had been taken smells remotely like your husband.

On the contrary, it smells distinctly like another vampire. This is when you start to panic. Tears are already sliding down your cheeks once your sense of touch comes back to you, realizing that you are wrapped in the arms of another man.

His skin is cool, scaley, his large arm coiled around your body as you try to squirm away from him. You realize now that whatever spell had been placed on you was wearing off.

Your entire body is trembling, and there is a stabbing pain in your chest and your temples at the realization that you are alone in your head.

“Tch tch, my little darling. Mage, again.” The man’s voice is deep, rumbling, and you feel the flicker of a long, thin tongue lap at your cheek. You won’t forget how he loves the taste of your tears.

****

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5.

Masterlist

[bunniefleur]

Between Worlds: The Princess of Twisted Realms

Prologue 7

Book 1: Chapter 1

Morning: Ignihyde Dorm—Night Raven College

Golden rays of morning sun streamed through the towering, arched windows of Vivian’s room, casting a soft, amber light over the intricately decorated space. Every corner of the room reflected an understated elegance—soft hues of blue and silver weaved into the tapestries and furniture. The room’s enchanted climate control maintained the perfect temperature, with a faint scent of lavender and mint lingering in the air, calming and sharpening her senses simultaneously.

Vivian stirred beneath the silken sheets, her mind slowly transitioning from the blissful silence of sleep to the reality that awaited her. The tranquility of the room clashed with the lingering tension in her chest.

A familiar presence hovered just above her. Teddy, his wings shimmering faintly as they caught the morning light, nudged her cheek gently, breaking through her drowsy haze.

"Good morning, Vivian," Teddy’s voice resonated in her mind, the telepathic link between them carrying warmth and affection. His expressive eyes, usually full of mischief, reflected concern this time.

Vivian blinked her sapphire eyes open, her fingers instinctively reaching to stroke Teddy’s shimmering mane. "Good morning, Teddy," she murmured, her voice soft as she began to wake fully. "How did you sleep?"

Teddy gave a small, reassuring nod, though his gaze didn’t lose its edge. "I slept fine. But you—you're tense. More than usual." His sharp eyes caught the small furrow in her brow that even sleep hadn’t entirely smoothed.

Vivian’s smile was brief and tired as she pushed herself to sit up, her long, wavy blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. "It’s just nerves. Today’s our first real day of classes," she said, the weight of her words lingering in the air.

Teddy perched beside her, his small wings still as he watched her. "You’ve faced far worse than a classroom, Viv," he said, his tone light but with a gentle undertone of concern. "It’s not like you to get worked up over something like this."

Vivian’s fingers traced the emblem on the blue knit vest hanging on her chair—the emblem of her family, one she wore with both pride and caution. "I’m not worried about the classes," she admitted quietly. "It’s the people. I just don’t want to deal with anyone right now."

The soft chime of her custom tablet cut through the room, its sleek screen glowing as it projected the day’s schedule. The interface was simple and elegant, yet its presence was a reminder of the precision and expectations tied to her every move.

"Our first stop is homeroom with Professor Trein," she noted, her fingers brushing over the tablet’s surface. "Jack and Epel are in my class." Her voice grew quieter, contemplative. Those two weren’t just classmates—they were part of the key group she had sworn to avoid.

Teddy fluttered up, his tiny form drifting lazily around her. "Well, you survived orientation without drawing too much attention. You’ll be fine." His voice was reassuring, but Vivian could feel his underlying worry for her.

"Maybe," Vivian said, though her tone was less certain. She rose from the bed, moving with deliberate calm as she dressed in her uniform. The crisp white shirt, blue knit vest, and blazer felt heavier than they should. As she adjusted her Ignihyde armband and stepped into her blue Mary Janes, she couldn’t shake the weight of her identity.

Teddy stayed close as she dressed, offering quiet reassurances, though neither of them spoke much. The silence stretched on, filled only by the gentle hum of the enchanted climate control system. When she finished, Vivian paused for a moment, looking at herself in the mirror. Her reflection stared back, every detail meticulously in place, but beneath the polished exterior, she couldn’t hide her unease.

"Let’s get this over with," she muttered, adjusting the collar of her blazer one final time. Her heart raced, despite the calm expression she wore.

As they left the dorm and stepped into the bustling hallways of Night Raven College, Vivian felt the shift in the air almost immediately. The students, engrossed in conversation, seemed to quiet as she passed. Eyes followed her—some curious, others wary. The murmurs began almost as soon as she entered the corridor, whispers trailing in her wake like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

Here we go again, she thought, her mental voice laced with resignation. She kept her gaze straight ahead, refusing to meet the stares of those around her.

Ignore it, Teddy responded softly. It’s just curiosity. That’s all. You’re a new face, and... well, you’re you. His teasing tone tried to lift her spirits, though both knew the truth behind his words.

Being me is exactly the problem, Vivian thought back sarcastically, keeping her eyes straight ahead as she navigated the labyrinth of hallways. She could feel the weight of stares pressing down on her from all sides, each one silently questioning or judging. The burden of her royal lineage, her magical prowess, her reputation—none of it was something she could shed.

When they arrived at Classroom 1-B, the door was already open, and several students had already taken their seats. Professor Trein stood at the front of the room, his sharp eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses tracking the students as they settled in. Jack and Epel were among the first to arrive, both seated closer to the front, looking lost in thought.

Vivian hesitated, just for a moment, before choosing a seat near the back of the room. She hoped the distance would offer some semblance of anonymity, though she knew better than to expect it. As she sat, her tablet and pen materialized on the desk with a soft shimmer of magic, automatically syncing with the enchanted blackboard at the front of the room.

Despite her best efforts to stay focused, she could still feel it—that subtle but ever-present awareness of being watched. It was as if every student in the room, whether intentionally or not, was attuned to her presence, waiting to see what she would do next.

This is going to be a long day, she thought, though her expression remained impassive.

Teddy settled on her shoulder, his wings fluttering softly as he gave her a nudge. Just stay calm. Let them watch. Eventually, they’ll get used to you.

Vivian didn’t reply, but inwardly, she hoped Teddy was right. As much as she longed to blend in, her very existence seemed to defy such a simple wish. The day had barely begun, and already the weight of being "Vivian de Alcantara" felt heavier than ever.

_________________________________________________

Homeroom: Classroom 1-B—Night Raven College

The air shifted as Professor Trein strode into the room, his black robes flowing behind him like a shadow. His every step exuded authority, and the quiet rustle of his papers seemed to still the low hum of conversation among the students. "Good morning, class," he began, setting his books on the desk with a practiced, almost ceremonial precision. Beside him, Lucius, his ever-watchful feline companion, slinked across the surface of the desk, his sharp eyes mirroring the discerning gaze of his master.

The students straightened, the atmosphere thick with the weight of expectation. Vivian mirrored the others, her posture already perfect, her fingers resting lightly on her custom tablet. The sleek surface hummed faintly with magic, ready to capture every word. Trein wasted no time diving into his usual opening: a speech that was as much a tradition as the school itself.

"As first-year students," Trein began, his voice steady and unwavering, "you are expected to adhere strictly to the rules of this institution. Night Raven College is not a place for the weak-willed or the undisciplined. You are here to excel, to rise above mediocrity. Academic excellence is not merely encouraged—it is demanded. Your actions, both in and outside the classroom, reflect on the reputation of this school, and any disobedience, tardiness, or negligence will not be tolerated."

Lucius punctuated the end of Trein’s words with a sharp, commanding purr, his eyes narrowing as they scanned the room, searching for any hint of dissent. A collective murmur of agreement followed from the students.

Vivian, still as ever, kept her attention fixed on Trein. Her expression was neutral, but inwardly, she recognized the weight of his words. In this place, appearance and reputation were everything. No room for error, no room for vulnerability—qualities that felt all too familiar in her world. Her goal was simple: stay unnoticed, blend in, despite everything that marked her as extraordinary.

But even in the quiet corner of the classroom where she sat, Vivian could feel the subtle pull of attention. Jack’s cautious wariness, Epel’s almost childlike curiosity—she could sense it all, though she kept her gaze forward and her focus sharp.

"As students of this institution," Trein continued, his tone brokering no argument, "you must strive to uphold the values that have been ingrained in this academy for generations. Discipline, knowledge, and integrity. Your schedules have been designed to push you, to ensure you grow into capable magicians. Do not waste the opportunity you’ve been given. And for those attending practical classes, remember: come prepared. Any failure to follow these expectations will result in immediate disciplinary action."

Jack, sitting closer to the front, absorbed Trein's words without so much as a flicker of doubt. His disciplined nature kept him in check, his thoughts methodical and sharp. Though he had heard plenty about Vivian’s reputation—her supposed genius and nearly unparalleled magical prowess—his instincts told him to keep an open mind. She didn’t appear arrogant, nor did she carry herself with the air of superiority he had come to expect from others of high status.

She doesn’t seem like the type to flaunt her status, Jack mused, his eyes flicking briefly to where Vivian sat in the back. But someone with that much power? There’s got to be more to her. Better to stay cautious.

Epel, meanwhile, had a harder time keeping his curiosity in check. His gaze wandered back to Vivian every few minutes, the image of her sitting quietly at her desk conflicting with the stories he had heard. In his mind, she was almost larger than life—a prodigy in both magic and combat, a figure nearly as skilled as the crown prince himself. But seeing her now, sitting quietly, her expression calm and composed, threw him off balance.

She doesn’t look as intimidating as I thought she’d be, Epel thought, chewing his lip. But legends are tricky. You never really know what’s true until you see it for yourself. I wonder if she’s as skilled as they say.

There was something almost ethereal about her, a quiet confidence that seemed to draw people in despite her efforts to remain in the background. Epel felt a mix of awe and apprehension. Part of him wanted to approach her, to test the truth of the stories, but another part hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he could handle the truth if it turned out she was as extraordinary as the rumors claimed.

Trein continued his lecture, driving home the importance of discipline and academic rigor. His voice never wavered, a testament to his years of experience in handling students both eager and reluctant. "You are here to learn, not indulge in frivolous distractions. Every assignment must be completed on time and with diligence. Any failure to meet the expectations set by this academy will be met with the appropriate consequences. Is that clear?"

Vivian remained calm, her pen moving fluidly over the tablet’s screen as she took notes. She kept her expression neutral, her attention seemingly focused on the lecture. But her mind wandered to Yuu, to the strange energy she and Teddy had detected earlier. The mystery still nagged at her, a piece of the puzzle she hadn’t yet solved. She wanted answers—needed them—but for now, she had to play the role she’d chosen. The studious, quiet academic. Nothing more.

As Trein finally concluded his speech, he looked over the class once more. His sharp eyes landed briefly on Vivian, a flicker of recognition passing through them before he continued his survey of the room. "You have ten minutes before your first period begins. Use your time wisely."

The students began to stir, the tension of Trein’s lecture easing as they adjusted in their seats or pulled out their materials. Vivian remained still for a moment longer, letting out a small breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Teddy, perched on her shoulder, fluttered his wings slightly, the faint movement enough to remind her he was still there, still watching over her.

That went well, Teddy whispered through their telepathic link. What did I tell you? They’re all just curious.

Let’s hope it stays that way, Vivian replied silently, her gaze drifting to the enchanted blackboard as it synced with her tablet. The last thing we need is anyone suspecting us.

She glanced around the room, feeling the weight of eyes on her again. Jack’s steady gaze, Epel’s not-so-subtle curiosity, even Trein’s brief acknowledgment. She could feel them watching, waiting, as if they expected something—anything—from her.

But as always, she gave them nothing. Only the quiet, unassuming image of a girl who wanted nothing more than to focus on her studies.

The day was just beginning, and already, it felt heavy.

_________________________________________________

Passing Time: Classroom 1-B—Night Raven College

As the students began to gather their things, Vivian rose with her usual grace, her tablet still in hand. Every movement she made was fluid, almost ethereal, as though she were gliding rather than walking. She caught sight of Epel’s lingering gaze and, after a brief moment of thought, decided to offer him a small, polite smile—a calculated gesture to appear more approachable.

It backfired spectacularly.

Epel’s breath hitched as soon as her smile met his eyes. All the stories and rumors he’d heard about her seemed laughably inadequate. Vivian’s smile wasn’t just beautiful; it was entrancing, almost otherworldly in its warmth and charm. He felt a rush of heat in his cheeks, the unmistakable bloom of a blush spreading across his face. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat reverberating louder, urging him to take a step forward, to say something—anything. But his tongue felt heavy, and his mind blank.

She’s even more incredible than I imagined, Epel thought, struggling to maintain his composure amid the chaos of emotions swirling inside him. No wonder people talk about her like she’s a legend. That smile… how can someone look like they were from a fairytale? But… His gaze faltered, dropping for a moment as his thoughts grew more conflicted. How could someone like me ever approach someone like her? She’s in a completely different league.

His frustration only deepened his blush, and his hands clenched slightly, fighting the overwhelming urge to look away in embarrassment. The realization that Vivian could be so close yet feel so unattainable was almost painful. She embodied everything the rumors had promised and more. The desire to speak with her, to connect in some way, grew stronger—but it was weighed down by the reality of their differences.

From his seat nearby, Jack watched the brief interaction with a seemingly neutral expression, though inside, he wasn’t quite as unaffected as he appeared. He prided himself on staying grounded, never getting swept up by surface impressions or idle rumors. And yet… there was something about Vivian that disrupted his usual calm.

Jack’s thoughts echoed in silence as he replayed the moment in his head. His brow furrowed slightly, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar feeling creeping up on him. It’s no wonder she’s got everyone’s attention. But there’s more to her than just looks. She doesn’t carry herself like someone who’s trying to impress people, but it’s clear she knows the impact she has. His eyes narrowed slightly as he continued his quiet observation. She’s hiding something—or maybe she’s just more complicated than she lets on. Either way, I’m going to keep watching. Maybe I’ll figure out what she’s really here for. No one’s that perfect.

Vivian, completely unaware of the silent emotional storm she had stirred, continued toward the door, her outward demeanor as calm and composed as ever. She was all too familiar with the way eyes followed her, how people watched her every move, but she had long since learned to master her expressions. The polished exterior she showed the world was a shield, keeping others at arm’s length. Here, at Night Raven College, vulnerability wasn’t an option.

As she exited the classroom, her mind shifted to the tasks awaiting her, compartmentalizing her thoughts with practiced efficiency. Yet, despite her focus, she couldn’t entirely shake the feeling of being watched, dissecting every smile and gesture. Every move had to be carefully controlled—this was a game of chess, and she had no choice but to play.

Perched comfortably on her shoulder, Teddy took in the entire scene with barely concealed amusement, his sharp eyes noting every flustered expression and reaction with gleeful precision.

Oh man, look at those two! Teddy thought, snickering quietly. Epel’s face is practically a stop sign! If he gets any redder, we might need to call the fire department for a color code emergency! And Jack? He’s over there like he’s trying to calculate the meaning of life! I’m pretty sure he just needs a good cup of tea and a hug!

Teddy ruffled his feathers, bursting with laughter at the sheer absurdity of it all. Vivian, you’ve really outdone yourself this time. You’re like a walking, talking charm spell, and you don’t even know it! What’s your secret? Do you have a magic wand hidden somewhere?

He relished the chaos her presence caused, his mind racing with funny scenarios. I should start charging people for commentary on this stuff—Oh! I should write a book! “Teddy’s Guide to Surviving the Dazzling Princess: Tips on Recovering After Getting Flustered!” He paused, chuckling to himself. Chapter One: If you think impressing her with your favorite vegetables will work, that’ll just make her wonder what’s wrong with you! Just don’t bring up Brussels sprouts—trust me on this one!

Amused by his own musings, Teddy shifted his position slightly, nestling himself more comfortably on Vivian’s shoulder. He could already tell this wasn’t the last time he’d get to watch a scene like this unfold. While Vivian remained blissfully unaware of the effect she had on others, Teddy was more than happy to sit back and enjoy the show.

With a final chuckle, Teddy settled in, content and ready for whatever came next, while Vivian moved forward, blissfully unaware of the whirlwind she had left in her wake.

_________________________________________________

Passing Time: Hallway—Night Raven College

Vivian stepped out of the classroom, her footsteps soft against the polished stone floor, yet each step echoed through the labyrinthine corridors like whispers of history. The gothic architecture of Night Raven College loomed above her, casting intricate shadows from towering arches, their dark elegance a reminder of the ancient magic embedded in the walls. The cool, enchanted air brushed against her skin, carrying the faint scent of centuries-old wood and the remnants of powerful spells long past.

As she moved deeper into the school, the vibrant hum of student life surrounded her. Whispers filled the corridor, a ripple of curiosity that intensified with each step she took. It was a chorus she had grown used to—the blend of awe, envy, and uncertainty, like a wave crashing around her as first-year students craned their necks for a glimpse.

"Is that her? The Crown Princess?"

"She's a prodigy, right?"

"Forget that—she’s the CEO of Nightingale Innovations! How’s she even our age?”

"And the Scepter of Hercules… how much power do you think it has?"

Their voices buzzed like insects at the edge of her awareness. Her posture remained impeccable, her expression serene—a carefully practiced façade she had perfected after years in the royal court. Every movement was deliberate, each glance calculated, as if she were performing for an unseen audience that was always ready to pounce on any slip.

Is this what it’s always going to be like, Teddy? She reached out with her thoughts.

Teddy’s voice filled her mind, light with humor. What, the constant fan club?

Vivian resisted the urge to sigh aloud. Being under a microscope, she corrected.

A chuckle resonated in her thoughts. Tomato, tomahto. Think of it this way—everyone’s watching you because they expect something amazing. You’re practically a living legend to them.

Or, she countered, they’re waiting for me to fail.

Well, yeah, that too, Teddy’s tone was matter-of-fact, but playful. But failure’s more fun with an audience. Besides, what are they going to do? Boo? I bet if you handed out enchanted cupcakes, they'd worship you. Who doesn't love a good pastry?

Vivian stifled a smirk. Pastries? Really?

Trust me. A magical cupcake is diplomacy at its finest. One bite, and suddenly you're "Princess Vivian, the Savior of Breakfast."

And here I thought politics was more complicated than baking.

Depends on who’s doing the baking.

Despite herself, a sliver of warmth curled inside her, though she kept her expression calm. Around her, the attention grew thicker, palpable as a physical force pressing in on all sides. The glowing sconces cast an eerie, flickering light, their ethereal flames licking the stone walls. The students' stares ranged from open awe to sharp jealousy, yet none of them dared to speak directly to her.

As she entered the second-year section of the corridor, the atmosphere shifted. Gone were the idle whispers of first-years—these students were more experienced, their gazes less curious and more calculating. They didn’t stare as openly, but she could feel the weight of their scrutiny. It wasn’t admiration—they were assessing her. Evaluating. Judging.

And standing near a marble pillar, observing her every move, was Riddle Rosehearts.

His crimson eyes locked onto her with an intensity that cut through the murmurs of the hall. He was composed, his uniform immaculate, his posture rigid—yet something in his gaze was sharper than it should have been. Suspicious. Calculating. It was the look of someone accustomed to order and authority, now faced with a presence that disrupted the delicate balance he had so carefully crafted.

That smile... His thoughts betrayed him, surprising him more than he’d ever admit. He quickly averted his eyes, the color rising to his cheeks. Focus, Riddle. You're better than this.

He tightened his grip on the leather-bound book in his hands, the only outward sign of his inner turmoil. Why is she really here? With her intellect, she doesn’t need this school. It doesn’t add up. This has to be about power. It’s a strategic move, not education.

His eyes darkened as the pieces of his theory began to align. I’ll be watching you, Vivian de Alcantara.

Vivian felt the weight of his scrutiny without needing to meet his gaze. It was a familiar sensation—the same sharp, penetrating look she had grown accustomed to in the royal courts. He wasn’t just watching her, he was analyzing her, searching for weakness. Years of royal training kept her expression serene, her pace unhurried, but internally, her mind whirred with thoughts.

Teddy?

Yeah, I see him, Teddy’s tone lost its usual humor, adopting a more serious edge. Riddle Rosehearts. He’s got that “head-of-the-rules” vibe. You know, the type who probably keeps a spreadsheet on everyone’s mistakes.

Plotting my demise, most likely, she mused.

Either that or preparing an overly detailed lecture on the rules. Don’t let him ruffle you. You’re twice as smart and ten times more fun. Plus, I bet he’s never heard of pastry diplomacy.

Vivian’s eyes remained forward as she passed Riddle, her face betraying nothing. His gaze followed her until she disappeared down the corridor, but her mind was already shifting to the next challenge.

The third-year section was darker, quieter. Fewer students wandered these halls, but their presence was heavier, their silence more discerning. The flickering blue flames cast long, eerie shadows, lending an otherworldly quality to the space. These students didn’t gawk or gossip—they watched in silence, their attention sharper, more dangerous. Here, she wasn’t just being observed—she was being measured.

They’re watching you closely, Teddy noted. Don’t worry though, they haven’t figured out the secret weapon: strawberry tarts.

Vivian’s lips quirked ever so slightly. I’ll keep that in mind.

The whispers in this hall were different, too. Quieter, but filled with more malice.

"They say she’s on par with the Crown Prince…"

"She’s here to take the throne, isn’t she?"

"Why else would a genius like her waste time at Night Raven?"

Vivian tuned out the words, but they clung to the air like poisonous smoke. Speculative rumors were nothing new, but the third-years’ words had more bite—colder, more strategic. They weren’t merely curious about her; they were wary.

Pastry diplomacy, Teddy’s voice cut through the tension again, this time teasingly. A well-placed cupcake and they’ll be singing your praises.

Noted. The lightness in his tone eased the tension in her shoulders as they approached the towering doors to the third-year classroom. Massive and intricately carved, the wood thrummed faintly with ancient magic. Beyond those doors awaited the real test—not just of her status, but of her abilities, her intentions, her strength.

She paused, taking a steadying breath.

You’ve got this, Teddy’s voice was filled with unwavering confidence. Brains, magic, and snacks—what could go wrong?

Vivian straightened, brushing her fingers against the cold handle of the door. The whispers behind her faded, the weight of Riddle’s suspicions slipped away, and the tension from the third-years dissolved into nothing. She was prepared for whatever lay beyond that door—whether it was judgment, rivalry, or something far more dangerous.

As she stepped inside, the classroom fell silent, all eyes turning toward her. But Vivian de Alcantara was ready.

[pesterloglog]

Jake English, Dirk Strider

Page 633-636

JAKE: Fuck!!!

JAKE: Why did she have to go and build a moon laser!!!

JAKE: Why did she have to go and

JAKE: And SAY all that!!!

DIRK: It's not over.

DIRK: That moon laser doesn't mean shit.

JAKE: ...if theres no one to press the button?

DIRK: Boom.

DIRK: Or, you know.

DIRK: No boom.

JAKE: Her guard is down...

DIRK: And you have a gun.

JAKE: I have TWO guns.

DIRK: Let's be real, this wouldn't even be the first time you've thought of it.

JAKE: Its... an option.

DIRK: Or.

DIRK: You help her win the battle.

DIRK: Avoid baptizing the Earth with laser-fire.

DIRK: And she uses The Point, and the world doesn't end.

DIRK: Probably.

DIRK: Who the fuck knows.

JAKE: What should i do?

DIRK: I'm not gonna tell you.

JAKE: I already know youll want me to do whats heroic.

JAKE: But you wouldnt want me to kill jane either.

JAKE: Would you?

DIRK: Stop staring at me like I'm gonna tongue-kiss the answer into you, dude.

DIRK: You know what you need to do.

JAKE: But jane was right about me!

JAKE: I cant be trusted.

JAKE: I dont even like 99% of people.

DIRK: Then do it for one person.

DIRK: Aren't you tired of spreading yourself thin trying to believe in everything?

DIRK: Because it's looking pretty fuckin' likely that the future where Tavvy is happy and the future where Jane is alive don't coincide.

DIRK: You have to kill one for the other to survive.

JAKE: It sounds like youre gunning for her.

DIRK: It sounds like *you're* gunning for her.

DIRK: Say what you will about Dirk, but he always wanted you to be your best self.

DIRK: He pushed you hoping if he did it hard enough, you'd push back.

DIRK: That's a far cry from whatever neutered domestic purgatory Jane's offering you.

DIRK: Wasn't it nice to be believed in, man?

JAKE: Ugh.

JAKE: Can i make an honest query?

JAKE: Did i really kill him?

DIRK: Hm.

JAKE: I did, didnt i?

DIRK: Common sense says no.

JAKE: Cant you swing that one by your esoteric telepathic dirk connection?

DIRK: That's a tricky fuckin' wicket, man.

JAKE: Its "sticky wicket".

DIRK: It's nothing, because that's a stupid fucking phrase cooked up by fake people about a fake sport from a dead planet.

DIRK: Anyway, it's tricky because there's not really all that much of anything left of the big man.

DIRK: Not here, anyway.

JAKE: Oh, baloney!

JAKE: Thats not how this works. Youre the supernatural tsaheylu of our combined "steezes".

JAKE: This isnt my first ride in the rodeo, mister, I KNOW THE RHYTHM OF THIS BUCKING BRONCO.

JAKE: HES STILL HERE, DAMMIT!

DIRK: I'm sorry.

DIRK: He's gone, dude.

JAKE: OH FUCK OFF.

JAKE: YOU CHARLATAN.

DIRK: Yeah.

JAKE: HORSES ASS.

DIRK: Get it all out, man.

JAKE: YOU MALEVOLENT MASCULINE MALFEASANT.

DIRK: I know a crisp glass of personal culpability isn't what you ordered, but hey.

DIRK: It's better than relapsing.

JAKE: Im drunk right now.

DIRK: And that sucks, buddy.

DIRK: But I'm talking about the big show of "everything's fine now" kitchen table red undie dirty dancing you did.

JAKE: Oh, i forgot about that.

DIRK: You fuckin' wish you did.

DIRK: It'd be the only reasonable excuse you'd have for nipping this uncomfortable epiphany in the bud so you could slink back to following orders from Dirk.

JAKE: ...

JAKE: Gods hooks, i backflipped right into my old ways!

DIRK: Don't beat yourself up about it. It's a running theme with literally everybody we know.

DIRK: You all get caught up in these feeling jams, hugging it out in self-realizational bliss.

DIRK: Then, bam.

DIRK: Premature ejaculation.

DIRK: That passionate growth grind ends before it builds to anything actually satisfying.

JAKE: :(

JAKE: Are you saying i need to be red undies jake again?

DIRK: Absolutely the fuck not.

DIRK: Hands off the belt, buddy. You've graduated.

DIRK: You're fully dressed Jake now.

DIRK: Sitting on the sticky floor of a custodial closet, hidden away from anything certain and good in this world.

DIRK: Alone.

JAKE: This is scary! I dont like this.

DIRK: Fuck yeah it is. This is sweaty, achey, burning transformation, brother.

JAKE: I want to go back! I want to be the other guy again.

DIRK: You can't be the other guy anymore, Jake.

DIRK: We're sending him upstate to live on a beautiful farm, where they're gonna immediately drag him out back and put him out of his fucking misery.

DIRK: Remember when you told Egbert you wanted someone to hold you accountable?

JAKE: No.

DIRK: Well.

JAKE: Nooooooo.

DIRK: "Here's Johnny!"

JAKE: AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

JAKE: Oh...

JAKE: *sniff*

JAKE: Oh, dirk...

JAKE: Cripes, if there really is no magical component to all of this,

JAKE: if youre really gone,

JAKE: then i am simply a forty year old man... being led by the nose... by an imaginary friend.

JAKE: That is not cute.

DIRK: It's kind of cute.

JAKE: No!

JAKE: Its mental illness!

DIRK: It can be both.

DIRK: Look.

DIRK: What you need to do is stop sobbing into your own fucking arms and make a decision.

DIRK: Spying for the rebellion, running away... these were steps in the right direction, but they also had, y'know.

JAKE: Plausible deniability.

DIRK: They were deflections.

DIRK: And at the end of the day, that's what choosing Jane would be, too.

JAKE: Its odd, but...

JAKE: Shucks, i dont want to cut her down right before she makes this big turnaround.

JAKE: If shed decided to keep her promise...

JAKE: thatd be bitter fucking berries to live with.

DIRK: But?

JAKE: But she probably wont change, will she?

DIRK: Why in the fuck would she?

DIRK: She'll have won.

JAKE: But... i dont think she was meant to be this way. Do you?

DIRK: Like, was she born to be a wildly racist dictatorial cake boss?

JAKE: Ok, when you put it that way it sounds a bit bonkers.

JAKE: What i mean is...

JAKE: Take me, for example.

JAKE: I know its not my fault janey got a bit rough and tumble with our relationship. That fundamentally, i didnt deserve it.

JAKE: But that doesnt exactly make me a mensch by default, does it?

JAKE: In fact i worry there might be more of me thats, well... inherently bad than not.

JAKE: And thats why everything tends to get so furiously fucked all the time!

JAKE: Everyone is waiting around for this better version of me to pop up, but thats never going to happen.

JAKE: Because if it did, it wouldn't be me anymore.

DIRK: So, are you trapped being Mr. Pissy Pantyloos Loser Man no matter what?

JAKE: Sort of.

JAKE: What do you think?

DIRK: I don't know.

DIRK: Maybe?

JAKE: Oh...

DIRK: Who even gives a fuck?

DIRK: This is some big philosophical philandering you're trying out, and we didn't even finish elementary school.

DIRK: The best we've got to work with is whatever you gleaned from "My Dinner with Andre" and "Blade Runner."

DIRK: And you fell asleep during "Andre."

JAKE: Point taken.

DIRK: Here's what we do know: when you face our friends tomorrow, they're gonna be none-the-wiser about the insane masturbatory matrix bullet time battles you've been having with yourself in your own head.

DIRK: What will be real to them is what you DID.

DIRK: That's it.

DIRK: Show them you're trying.

DIRK: Or don't, and get left behind.

JAKE: Good god...

JAKE: This is the worst pep talk... ever.

DIRK: It's you, dude, what did you expect?

JAKE: True.

DIRK: Do you want to be left behind?

JAKE: No!

JAKE: I want to see tavvy grow up!

JAKE: I want to choose him!

JAKE: But i want to believe in jane too...

DIRK: Sigh.

JAKE: Listen.

JAKE: I never really understood all that much of the "doomed timeline" hoopla you cerebral types tend to gab on about.

JAKE: But... its nice to think that there might be countless janes somewhere out there who never stopped being happy.

JAKE: Baking, getting up to all manner of lighthearted mischiefs... true blue all around.

JAKE: When i think of her, thats whats real to me.

JAKE: What she is now, what these rotten unenviable circumstances have made of her, its all just...

DIRK: Happenstance.

JAKE: Is that stupid?

DIRK: Probably, but you're a god of Hope.

DIRK: You're a poster-child for making stupid shit feasible.

DIRK: And no one has the power to say what's true for every Jane.

DIRK: I'm sure if you asked a couple of them how they feel about labor camps and domestic violences, they'd hit you with a "Woah there, buster jones."

JAKE: "Thats not for me!"

DIRK: "No siree!"

JAKE: Hehehe.

JAKE: Exactly.

JAKE: If i can believe in those janes,

JAKE: i think i can let this one go.

DIRK: Extravagant hoops to stumble through just to keep believing, man.

DIRK: It's sneaky. I like it.

JAKE: Its decided then?

DIRK: Seems so.

DIRK: You can finally leave the closet.

JAKE: Har, har.

JAKE: Goofs aside, old buddy...

JAKE: I get the strange sense i wont be speaking with you again.

DIRK: You won't. Why would you?

DIRK: You're normal now.

JAKE: But-

DIRK: You don't need him.

JAKE: It feels good to pretend, though.

JAKE: To hold on a little while longer.

DIRK: Don't.

JAKE: Fine! Fine...

JAKE: Hope is the crummiest aspect of the lot, huh.

JAKE: I swear the only time its worth a lick more than delusions and hot air

JAKE: is if it really fucking hurts.

DIRK: Welcome to being a person, Jake English.

[cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal]

Tinfoil Hat Time

Or Why Cigs Thinks Mount Hood is Still Alive

Okay, so, yeah, back before I deleted, I had a theory post about Sidestep being a re-gene that was mostly ignored and turned out to be true, so now I have a new wild theory for the modern age: Marshal Mount Hood is still alive.

Specifically, I am pretty certain Hood is alive and held captive in Hollow Ground's home. Bear with me. I have reasons:

Is it possible that HG is a double boost? Yeah. So why do I think that's not the case? Well, for one, it would be a narrative disaster. When writing a major antagonist, you want them to be powerful enough to be a threat, but not enough to feel like an overwhelming task for your protagonist. Having HG be both a tactile telepath and in control of seismic activity would put him into the latter category. It would put a lot of wrenches in the machine, especially given that HG is more of a secondary antagonist (read: not a minor antagonist).

HG likely wouldn't have wanted to get a second boost. Taking the Boost drug is incredibly dangerous and becomes more of a gamble the more you take it [5]. If HG started out with seismic control, why roll the dice on another boost? That's already an alpha level power. Similar reasoning if HG started with tactile telepathy. Why would you risk you life on a gambled second power when you have the ability to thread people?

HG is an incredibly private and cautious individual. They are hiding their telepathy so well that almost everyone we talk to thinks they have seismic-based abilities. The only way you can determine their telepathy is if you have extremely high telepathy yourself and meet them in person. They take a gamble on you to thread you - high risk but also high reward, and likely played with the knowledge that few people are powerful enough to catch their threading in the act [2]. This level of caution begs the question of why they would risk a second boost, but also:

If you follow HG after Parkview and botch it badly enough, HG notices you tailing them and turns around. But they head back to Parkview [3]. Why? That's an extremely dangerous place for them to be at this point. Charge was just there, there's a likeliness that other Rangers will be close behind, and it was their last known location. So why go back and risk being seen/caught? Unless there is something of extreme value at their home. Something that is worth jeopardizing their own capture rather than giving it away.

On that note, it is extremely difficult to play without alerting HG to the fact that you're a telepath [1]. It would make perfect sense for them to want you out of proximity of their home if you have the ability to pick up a particular mind in their house.

Now, regarding Hood himself. We know a few things about him, such as he was an alpha level seismic boost with full sleeve tattoos and a dislike for the stuffy bureaucracy of his position as Marshal. So why is it that when his funeral came around, he was dressed in a suit and had his tattoos covered? [7] There would be no reason for the city to go against a living will - something that likely all the major heroes in the city have - and I highly doubt Hood himself would have made either of those requests. So why would they have occurred at his funeral?

Finally, the scene that started it all: the Hollow Ground Retribution epilogue. In said epilogue, Hollow Ground mentions to Nocturne that they had to "deal with the old man" [4]. This could be colloquial for their father, but it's a little antiquated if it is, and that would be the perfect place to hide subtle hints without tipping off all of the readers. They also mention that seeing their mystery guest drains them [4], something we know is also a problem when they red-thread people.

[1]: Retribution - Chapter 20

Though mentioned again later in the code (spefically the Parkview meeting), Hollow Ground will know Sidestep is a telepath not only if they've been an open telepath in their villain career, but also if their pre-Heartbreak Sidestep reputation is equal to or higher than 30 regardless of whether or not they've used telepathy during their villain career.

[2]: Retribution - Chapter 23

In order to notice or avoid being threaded by HG, Sidestep must have either >80% Subtle Manipulations or >80% Force of Mind respectively.

[3]: Retribution - Chapter 25

$!{swear}. You pull out, but not in time. Below, you can see the car slowing down, making a turn, going the long way back toward Parkfield. $!{swear}.

[4]: Retribution - Hollow Ground Epilogue

 "You know I needed to deal with the old man today. I couldn't be stuck on the phone all morning." Hollow Ground swings ${hghis} legs over the side, pushing the sunglasses to ${hghis} forehead. [...] "Come on, Noe, can you blame me? You know it takes a lot out of me." Hollow Ground gets to ${hghis} feet, shrugging on a shirt before following her back inside.

[5]: Patreon Q&A 04/2021

What would happen if a boosted individual takes the drug again? Is there more risk involved?  Yes and no. Taking it again means pushing the odds, the body is already changed, but if the first boost power increased durability, the risk would be less. This is why Anathema survived the second dose.

[6]: Patreon Q&A 08/2021

Could Anathema have kept taking the boost drug repeatedly, or would something have eventually gone wrong? Something would eventually have gone wrong, there's a limit to how much the body can be twisted. If that would have ended in death is a different question...

[7]: Patreon Extra - "Four Funerals and a Wake"

You're not wearing a suit. Hood hated suits and wouldn't have been caught dead in one if he had a choice. Now he's dead and in a suit. [...] An open-casket funeral, you know you're supposed to say he looks just like if he was alive, but they covered up his tattoos...

[kendsleyauthor]

Cordially Invited

Shot in the Dark (Canon)

~700 words

A fun little plot bunny about how Sylvia would be invited to a magical girls' night by Delilah! (And in first-person POV 👀!)

I have vague ideas about the actual girls' night scenes that I don't know when I'll get to, but for now, enjoy Sylv's excitement (and the boys' lack of enthusiasm) over receiving Delilah's invitation 🥰

@marydublinauthor

We were enjoying dinner at the motel room when a glittery pink plume of smoke erupted from the center of the table. All three of us drew back in alarm, certain we were about to be attacked. Jon and Cliff pulled guns, and I had ice at my fingertips.

“What the fuck?” Cliff breathed. 

The smoke faded to reveal a folded piece of yellowed parchment on the table. It was closed with a white wax seal. Glitter lingered in the air, some of it shimmering on my fries.

A heavy moment of silence surrounded us as we tried to make sense of what had happened.

“I don’t feel anything malicious,” I announced after a moment, thoroughly confused.

Jon approached the table cautiously all the same. His frown deepened as he picked up the parchment and turned it over. He lifted his eyes to me. “It’s addressed to you.”

“What?” Sure enough, my name was written in loopy cursive on the other side of the paper. “Open it!” I perched on Jon’s shoulder as he tore the paper around the wax seal. 

“It’s blank,” Cliff said, crowding in beside us to see.

“No, it’s not!” I exclaimed. The page was thoroughly inked with the same elegant text as the outside. “It must be enchanted for my eyes only.” I looked the page up and down in growing puzzlement. This didn’t feel real, yet here it was. 

“What does it say?” Jon asked, his tone guarded as though I’d received a death threat.

I cleared my throat. “You are cordially invited to… girls’ night. Hosted by Delilah Fairchild.” My mouth fell all the way open, my heart thrumming with tentative excitement. There was a stamped illustration in the middle of the page that showed a group of women dancing wildly around a bonfire. 

“You’re kidding,” Cliff said flatly.

I shook my head and started reading off bullet points listed beneath the picture:

Arrive after sundown.

Disclose any allergies or substance aversions ASAP. (i.e. iron, silver, saltwater etc.)

Safe event. All pending duels and active death bounties are null for the duration. (NO fighting—unless it’s sexy.) 

Dress code: Just kidding, wear whatever you want. Or nothing, if you prefer.

Child-free event. NO exceptions.

“Okay, you made half of that up… right?” Jon said slowly.

“I didn’t!” Flitting off his shoulder, I lifted the corner of page and found another underneath. It listed the date of the party—one week from now—and further instructions.

“Delilah’s out of her mind,” Cliff said, rolling his eyes as a he returned to his seat. “As if you’d actually go to this thing.”

I pursed my lips. As though sensing my thoughts, Jon set the invitation on the table and gingerly nudged my arm.

“Sylv…”

“I’m going,” I declared, looking between the hunters. When Cliff opened his mouth to protest, I flew right in front of his face. “Don’t you see? This is… this is like a revel! I haven’t been to one in over a year!”

“Sounds more like a trap than anything,” Jon muttered.

I whirled toward him. “It’s not! The invitation says it’s safe.”

“Well, if the invitation says it’s safe,” Cliff mimicked derisively. He shook his head. “Anyway, Delilah lives across the country. How do you expect to get there?” He raised his eyebrows as if to say, ‘Cause I’m sure as shit not driving you.

Landing on the table, I pushed aside the first paper and pointed triumphantly at the one underneath. “There’s a rune that’ll get me there. It’s only active during the event. It’ll take me there and back, and Delilah’s supplying the magic for it. She must have put a lot of thought and care into this…”

My grin faded slightly when I looked up to see Jon and Cliff sharing an intense stare, like they were telepathically trying to come up with a way to convince me not to go. 

“I’m going,” I said again. 

And judging by the peeved, though concerned, expressions on their faces, they understood that I wasn’t seeking their permission to begin with.

[maladaptive-jcb]

Chapter 3: A Taste of Intrigue

Jamie x female!reader fanfic

(fluff, safe for under 18)

Click here for chapter 2 if you missed it.

Summary: Reader is an independent artist who lives on her own in a small town and meets Jamie, a musician, in an art studio where their budding relationship formed through shared interests of different forms of art.

Warning: There will be talks about trauma and PTSD from domestic abuse and dissociative episodes throughout the story.

“Shit, Jamie. This is a fancy place I thought it was just a small restaurant! I am not dressed for this!” I nervously adjust my denim jacket covering my casual white dress that has a little paint stain on it.

There's no way he actually brought me here. I've heard people talk amazing things about this place. Heck, celebrities were seen dining in this very restaurant. Even with the place blasted with air-conditioner, I still feel beads of sweat forming on my back and my palms where I'm discreetly trying to wipe off on my dress. I'm sure no one is looking at me but I can't help but to telepathically apologize to everyone for the way I look. I promise I can look better than this. I'm so sorry everyone, please give me a chance. Yet, everyone just keeps eating and talking to each other mindlessly.

“Stop it. You’re beautiful,” he touches my shoulder to reassure me. His fingers graze on my hand as he lowers his and sends my feet frozen in place. “You always are.”

Before I could say anything, he's already making his way to talk to the hostess. “Jamie Bower reservation, table for two?”

“Yes, sir. Right this way,” the beautiful hostess ushers us to the table, admiring the man in front of her. He really has a certain allure that draws people's attention. Whether it's the way he's dressed, his charisma or confidence, I can't quite figure it out. Either way, the hostess' admiration is evident to them and it only draws my interest of the man behind that dazzling smile.

As we settle into our seats at the table, my mind buzzes with curiosity. Lots of questions are running through my head. He has a fancy car, great fashion sense, and now he's interested in a small town and a simple painting class. Why would someone like him even bothered to join something like that?

“Jamie, can I… can I ask you something?” I lean in to whisper.

His face turns serious, “What is it?”

“Are you… are you… rich?” I whisper in a hushed tone.

He starts laughing and clutching his chest. “No, darling I’m not. My parents are though. I'm just lucky enough to get to treat a friend tonight.”

I laugh in ease. “Well, how sweet of you. Alright, next time you’re paying for my coffee instead.”

“No, I’m paying for dinner,” as he grabs his menu to his chest and gives that sickeningly sweet grin again.

"Well, if you insist," I return the smile to him.

Everything feels so much more at ease with our playful banter. Jamie really has a way of lightening up the mood. However, a sudden realization dawns upon me.

That cliché notion of a man paying for dinner makes me wonder if there's a romantic interest behind it. Although, Adrian did pay for our dinner one time after closing the bookstore and it was definitely not a date. I find myself overanalyzing the situation and questioning Jamie's intention behind this. Should I assume it's a date? What if I'm misinterpreting everything? I mean, would it be so bad if it is?

Before letting the excitement bubbling up to my chest, I shut it down immediately. I shouldn't get ahead of myself.

I face towards him again. He's tapping his fingers on his chin now, scanning the menu and still trying to decide what to get. He doesn't seem to notice my train of thoughts.

“Thanks for bringing me here. I didn’t expect our random café meet up would bring me to this place. It’s nice," breaking our moment of silence. I'm still finding myself looking around the beautiful restaurant once again. It has an overlooking view of the radiant sunset in the ocean.

“My pleasure,” his hand closer to mine on the table. His long slender fingers brush against mine. Every little touch from him sends an electric shock down my spine.

“You know, you were about to leave immediately. I was trying to find a way to make you stay,” he slowly sips on the wine poured for us. “I could really use a friend and I'd love to get to know you more," he adds on.

Friend. The word flutters in my chest as I wonder if it's just a friendly gesture or there's more to it beneath the surface. I quickly shake the thoughts away and casually pulls my hand to fix my hair and hoping he doesn't notice my nervous gesture.

The waiter finally comes to take our orders. My appetite goes for the ravioli while Jamie goes for the Chicken Parmigiana. Jamie raises his eyebrows excitingly at me while his hand rubbing on his stomach. I let out a small giggle.

"You know, I've heard so much about this restaurant. I've always wanted to try this place," I say, feeling more at ease as we continue our lighthearted banter.

"Oh, you're in for a treat," Jamie replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

____

“Okay, come here you need to try this,” he gets some of his chicken to his fork and lifts it up towards me.

“No, Jamie. Don’t be silly,” I shake my head and laughs at his demeanor.

“Ah, ah- I’m not gonna stop until you try it. Come on.” He’s still trying to get me to open my mouth.

“Jamie, I don’t think-“

“Oh come on, y/n. Come on, come on, come on-“ he pleads, lips pouting now.

“Alright! Alright! You silly bean,” I take a bite immediately. He smiles in triumph and waits for a reaction.

My eyes widen. He's right. It is good.

“Uh huh. What did I tell you??” his hand gesturing himself knowing he’s right.

“Woah, what did they put in this food??” I swallow after the burst of different flavors in my taste buds.

“I’m telling you! You need to trust me more a little, y/n.” His fork now playfully swinging at me.

The playful banter continues, but beneath the surface, curiosity still creeps into my head. Can I trust him? It's true that we spend time together in class and have shared some connections, but there's a part of him that remains a mystery.

In class, Jamie is often quiet and reserved. Yet, in our interactions outside of class, he's charming, attentive, and full of life. I can't help but wonder which version of him is the real one.

“What, you’re not gonna let me taste yours too?”

I jump a little.

“My…” and I notice his glances shifted from my eyes and towards my plate.

“MY FOOD,” I exclaim a little too loud. “Here if you want it soooo bad,” I tease him and pushes my plate a little closer to him. Jamie’s eyebrows furrow and squints at me.

“Not like that, darling.” He closes his eyes and opens his mouth.

I can feel my cheeks are getting warm again. A little grateful that his eyes are closed as my blood are rushing quickly towards my face. I pick up some of my ravioli on the fork on one hand and another under his chin to avoid making a mess.

“Oh yes, that’s amazing." His face making an exaggerated satisfied look. "Tastes about the same as the first five times I’ve had it here,” he adds, trying to contain his laughter this time.

“For goodness sake, Jamie!!!” my hand on my forehead now, covering myself in embarrassment.

He finally lets out a laugh. “Aw come on, y/n. You know I can’t help myself," he pulls my arm away from my face gently. His fingers feel warm on my bare skin under the cold air of the restaurant.

We spend the rest of the dinner sharing more stuff about each other. Jamie eventually opens up about the passion that he has in music. He looks so animated and full of joy from talking about songwriting, singing, playing the guitar to playing the piano. He even talks about a few music he puts out with his old band which was basically his younger brother, Sam and a few other friends.

"I'd love for you to listen to my stuff whenever you get the chance to," still talking in excitement. I nod in agreement.

He reels me in even deeper into who he is. Jamie's artistic heart runs deep, and it's not limited to just painting. His passion for music is evident in the way his face lights up and his whole demeanor changes when he describes it. It's like a different side of him emerges, in a good way. As much as he likes painting, he still feels like he has to constantly work to be good whereas with music, Jamie seems to have a natural talent that comes effortlessly.

He's not just a quiet guy that I thought I knew. He's so multifaceted with depths that I'm only starting to discover and I'm excited for it.

After we continue the night with more funny stories from class, we finally realize how late it is. Time really does fly when you're having a good time.

_____

Chapter 4

Woo! You're finally getting to know Jamie a little better after wondering about him for a while. How will the dinner end for you guys? Can this friendship turn into something more or is one of you guys still aren't ready for that? What do you think? Let me know :)

[iamblue15]

Mystery Kids Classic Monsters Headcanons NO.2

Dipper (Werewolf)

.Gets that wet dog smell, night or day.

.He’s secretly bummed that he still doesn’t have chest hair despite growing hair EVERYWHERE at night.

.Had a small panic attack after he ate some chocolate because he didn’t know if it would poison him (It didn’t).

.Clips his long claws so he can write his catalogues, but they grow back every 10 minutes.

.Is often treated like a puppy by either Mabel or Neil, like attempting to dress him in costumes or trying to boop his nose.

Mabel (Witch)

.Is handed a spell book at the time of her transformation.

.She is the most human-looking out of the monster kids.

.Has wondered if she can use her magic to make waddles a cute prince but the others strongly advise against it for they don’t know what could happen if it fails.

.Tried to use a spell to bring her plushies to life, this resulted in them turning against everyone in the shack and almost setting it on fire.

.Her first time flying a broom resulted in being stuck zipping in all directions until Coraline and Neil stepped in.

Coraline (Vampire)

.If she smells even a whiff of garlic, she’ll feel lightheaded.

.She’s safe from the sun at daytime if it’s overcast or cloudy, she states it’s “the one time she’s thankful for such crummy weather.”

.Her daylight survival gear consists of: a long dark cloak, an umbrella, sunglasses and thick gardening gloves.

.Her new teeth is designed not only for pricking but also ripping out chucks like a wolf like so:

(She has hardly any need for them as she doesn’t need to feed).

.Likes to take naps sleeping upside down as a bat so she doesn’t feel soar when she wakes.

.Has discovered that peering into her seeing stone makes her able to see her reflection (She has mixed feelings about her appearance).

Wybie (Frankenstein’s Monster)

.Has one plug outlet in the back of his neck so he can take an extension cord and recharge the “safe” way. 

.When he feels excited or giddy, he produces static that can reach to about six feet from him.

.His eyes can also function like flashlights when he gives his head a few taps.

.Has thought of given himself new modifications like extending and grabbling arms with his original ones being detachable.

Raz (Swamp Creature)

.When Raz uses telekinesis, his psychic hand becomes a webbed claw.

.He can carry and balance himself with his tail, proving that even with a tail, he’s insanely strong for someone his age.

.Had small telepathic conversations with fish and has gained insight of their daily life, sometimes it's peaceful but it can also be traumatizing with fishing or natural predators.

.His usual attire feels restricting in his new body, so he either wears swim trunks or his family’s acrobat uniform.

.He can use telekinesis and hydrokinesis to form a water helmet for long trip with out hydrating himself.

Lili (Gorgon)

.Once tried to knockout Coraline by spraying her venom to shut her mouth but finds out she’s immune to poison.

.Likes to soak in sunlight along with her flowers.

.Has Raz take care of Harold the rat because she doesn't want him to risk being turned to stone and scarred for life. 

.She doesn't’ use pyrokinesis as much as she used to, for the intense heat makes her scales itchy and uncomfortable.

.Has trouble find the beat sleep position with her long tail.

Norman (Dullahan)

.Is a little geeked out about his new form as he almost resembles a certain demonic anti-hero.

.The skeletal horses he summons can be quite possessive and takes some convincing to let others ride them.

.His power of ghostly fire comes in handy when telling stories by the campfire for it creates the haunting atmosphere.

.Whenever he feels too shy or insecure, he becomes a little non-corporeal and see-through.

.When asked what it feels like to be hollow suit of armor, he states it's like " like his fleshy body's still there but also not there", similar to phantom limb.

Neil (Gargoyle)

.Uses his new wings to hold more people for his hugs but because he's made of stone, he has to be gentle.

.His jaw has proven to be quite quite strong as he once chomped a stone into pieces.

.Likes to imagine his new form would make him so good at hockey or football but the others point out that it would give him unfair advantage.

[tetsuo-z]

• Side Story 4 •

Pairings: Tetsuo x Kaori/ Kaneda x Kei

Characters: Kaneda Shotaro, Kei, Kai, Mizuki, The Capsules, and Others

Summary: Conversations no one can hear or know except Tetsuo and Kaori

Genre: Fluff and Sweetness

Everyone was hanging out, but instead of hanging out at Kaneda’s place. They all decided it’ll be nice to go somewhere fun out in Tokyo, with not many people or crowds.

It took a lot of convincing and using Kaori to get Tetsuo to agree to the idea. He knew being holed up in a house for so long can be boring and suffocating.

And Tetsuo doesn’t like wearing his Kabuki mask for to long, it can be hard to breathe in it sometimes. Because it seems like they’ll be out longer than he wanted.

But he reminds himself to do it for her, because she deserves a different scenery every now and again.

They all got dressed and the guys rode to there destination.

“So where is this place you’re trying to take us to Kaneda?” Kai asked.

“You’ll see.” Kaneda smirked, leading the bikers. They finally made it and everyone looked up at the sign.

It was an outdoors onsen, one of the most popular ones.

“An onsen?” Tetsuo looked at Kaneda under his hood.

“Yeah, Kei and I one these awesome onsen tickets, at an event we went to. Also with great food mind you.” Kaneda grinned.

“I thought we needed to be somewhere with less people?” Mizuki added.

“It is, these are tickets for a private booking! So it’s just us.” Kei said excitedly, because now she has a girlfriend to join her, along with certain girls as plus one that were dating one of the gangs. To cover the other tickets

In the middle of the conversation Kaori chuckled out of no where. Causing stares, she noticed and then fixed herself. Tetsuo turned his head trying not to laugh.

“What’s so funny, I wanna laugh too?” Mizuki asked.

“Nothing.” Tetsuo answered, before everyone shrugged it off and continued inside.

“What if the Owner sees… You know.” Kai whispered in Kaneda’s ear pointing behind them at Tetsuo.

“Don’t worry man The Ow-“

“Welcome To Momo’s Onsen! My name is Juju Gezumi I am the owner of this onsen, and I hope you enjoy your stay.” The owner smiled at them, they all realized that-

“He’s blind, The Owners blind Kai. So he won’t see Tetsuo. Thank you Mr. Gezumi, we most certainly will.” All of them entered.

Everyone had a designated room, it was traditional but very nice and elegant. The food would arrive once everyone was out of the onsen.

As everyone was settling there stuff down. Kaneda and Tetsuo’s room was side by side, as he heard giggling and laughing from Tetsuo’s room with Kaori.

“What the hell are they laughing at!?” Kaneda was about to check, before Kei stopped him.

“Leave them alone.”

“It’s not like I’m doing anything, I’m just curious of what’s so funny. I don’t even hear them talking, it’s just laughing.”

“Haha, why does it concern you so much. Let them enjoy each other’s company, they deserve it you know. Just like us.” Kei walked two fingers up Kaneda’s arm on his shoulder. Eventually wrapping her arms around his neck.

Pulling him into a kiss, Kaneda hugging her waist. Bringing her closer to deepen the kiss. The kids felt long but was quick.

Kaneda, Kei, Tetsuo, and Kaori were doing a couples onsen. So they four was in the same one, Kaori was very skeptical. She wanted to join but her insecurities were knocking at her door.

The towel was covering her body, Tetsuo came behind her, “Need some help?” He whispered in her ear, with a devious tone in it.

“N-No I-I’m, F-FINEEEEE!” Kaori dragged the last word, as Tetsuo pushed her into the onsen. Before he hopped in, she popped up trying to catch her breath.

Kaneda and Kei came out after, and joined them. They didn’t notice that they were arguing telepathically.

Kei sighed in relief, “This is so niceee.”

Kaori nodded in agreeance, before dipping lower. To the point only half her head showed.

The trio began having a conversation about the place and soon other things. Kaori was still not the social butterfly, so she just listened peacefully.

Then she slightly perked up, turning her attention to Tetsuo. Who quickly side eye her with a smirk, and looked away.

He was talking to her telepathically while he’s verbally talking to the other two.

Tetsuo was trying to think of something that would really get his girlfriend in a fit of laughter. Then it hit him, he waited for the perfect moment

It went into a comfortable silence for a minute. Then all of a sudden Kaori burst into a fit of laughter, to the point she even began snorting. Covering her mouth trying to restrain her laugh, she cried so hard till she had tears.

Tetsuo ended up cracking up, Kaneda and Kei looked at them in shock. Kei slightly smiled, she thought Kaori’s snort was adorable.

“You guys been laughing non-stop. Can you like fucking tell us what it is!?” Kaneda was frustrated being left out of the joke.

“It’s an inside joke you wouldn’t understand.” Tetsuo smirked, as Kaori was calming down. She started laughing again.

“T-T-Tetsuo… S-S-STOP I-It! I-I can’t… breathe.” Kaori face was red, she got of the onsen going back to there room.

“Oh how cute you think it’s funny talking shit with your powers.” Kaneda glared at him.

“Yes. Yes I do.” Tetsuo grinned wider, he eventually got out and joined his girlfriend. Kaneda was glaring daggers in his back.

“Man he is so fucking annoying.” Kaneda folded his arms. It was Kei turn to get up.

“Ha! Now you know what it’s like to live with you.” Making all three of them laugh. Kaneda rolled his eyes, hoping out as well.

“You gonna regret making fun of me!”

In the end, everyone enjoyed themselves at the onsen, and the food was exquisite.

[1787americanrevnerd]

Family Is What You Make It

Part 1 Previous Next

Wanda didn't know what to expect from their final destination, but this certainly wasn't it. Below them was a huge house, with an equally as large area of land surrounding it. Wanda never imagined that a property that big could belong to anyone that wasn't royalty. Growing up in Sokovia, where all the houses were less than 900 square feet, she couldn't even fathom a house as big as this. not only was there an excess of space, but students were also walking all over the campus. Wanda smiled as she looked down at the lively place. She and her brother would be happy here, she thought to herself. 

When the plane finally landed Wanda all but ran out the doors. Her legs were slightly wobbly but she couldn't care less. Wanda ran through the grass, twirled around, and looked up to feel the warm sun on her face. Wanda knew that she must have looked insane to the people in the field, however, she didn't have it in her to acknowledge their stares. Wanda was free from her captors. Wanda hadn't felt anything other than cement under her feet in so long. She had been robbed of the ability to dance around and enjoy herself. Most of all, Wanda hadn't seen a genuinely sunny sky in over three years. Just standing under the warm golden beams seemed to help rejuvenate her soul. Getting tired of standing, Wanda decided to lie down on the ground instead.

After a few moments, she felt Pietro lie down next to her. Wanda breathed in deeply, held it, and then let all the air out with a toothy smile. She turned to look at her brother. Where Wanda could hold a tan until the next day sunshine came, Pietro got pale after the first week that sun was gone. By no means did Pietro look like he was white, but his skin lacked a certain vibrance. 

"Wanda," said her brother. She looked into his eyes. "Get up people are staring," he continued to say. Wanda looked around, people were indeed staring at them. Wanda smiled sheepishly and got up off of the grass. She brushed the back of her dress hoping no more grass was left on it. Then Wanda followed Pietro and Erik inside the mansion. The home was even more spectacular inside; there were mutants everywhere, and they were all Wanda's age.

Wanda's eyes wandered around the massive entryway, there were beautiful cream moldings, extravagant light fixtures, dark wooden walls, and massive windows, and the whole room was tied together by the grand, polished, wooden staircase. Wanda looked at her brother, they were thinking the same thing. In a flash, both of them were racing up the stairs, so that they could ride the railing back down. Once they got up to the top of the staircase Wanda and her brother sat on top of it and waited a bit before sliding down, in other words, Wanda had to push Pietro. Wanda laughed, maybe a little too loud, as she went down the railway. Most of her childhood was stolen from her, she was happy to have even only a few seconds back. When she got to the bottom Pietro stopped her from flying out the door. 

Even as she was still smiling she heard a voice in her head, "I'm glad someone is enjoying that old staircase." 

Wanda was now on high alert, she had never come across another telepath. She whipped her head around to where she sensed the other person to be. When she looked down she saw a man in a wheelchair smiling up at her. Even though the man looked nice enough Wanda didn't like the feeling of someone else messing around in her mind. Wanda wondered if this is how others felt when she controlled someone. Wanda could still feel her mind in the man's grasp. Let go, she projected while shoving the wheelchair back with a red burst of energy.

Wanda's eyes widened, she would be hurt now all because she couldn't control her emotions. However, instead of punishing her the man simply smiled and stuck out his hand for her and Pietro to shake. "Charles Xavier, I'm deeply sorry for intruding. Sometimes I forget that most don't find the experience terribly welcoming". Wanda shook his hand after Pietro. She was happy to meet another telepath, however, she was less thrilled that she understood only half of the words he said.

Erik looked at Xavier and they seemed to have a little telepathic conversation, Wanda knew that she could've listened in but that would be a breach of trust between her and her liberator (she also knew that adults thought the strangest things and she did not want to learn more than she had to about the two men). Wanda wasn't the intrusive type, despite what her powers may lead one to believe. When Wanda had to read a mind she liked to do it nicely, go in, get what she needed, and then get out. 

After a few moments, Erik turned to the twins. "I know that you can not speak English very well, and since you do not want Charles in your mind I will be translating. I am sorry for any mistakes as Russian is my 6th language."

Pietro waved off Erik, "It is okay, Russian isn't even our first language. I think there will be mistakes from us too." Erik smiled at Wanda and her brother. Wanda followed Erik and Charles into the kitchen, her brother holding her hand the whole way. Ever since escaping HDYDRA, Wanda and her brother had started to cling together more than ever before. Wanda was happy that she could finally be near her brother with no wall separating them, and she knew that he felt the same way. 

When they got to the kitchen, Erik motioned to the two empty seats in a breakfast nook. As Wanda went to sit down she saw Erik go to grab something from a cupboard, until Charles motioned to a big metal pot that was on the stove. The two adults exchanged some words and Erik gave Charles a look that told Wanda there was a long complicated history between the two. Erik then went to a pantry and started to mix together a doughy, grainy-looking mixture. Erik then got a spoon and started to make balls out of the dough(?), which he then dropped into the pot along with other cut-up vegetables. A little while later Wanda and Pietro were scarfing down the delicious soup, they were practically licking the bowl. Wanda looked up once, and she saw Erik following Charles out of the room, she was too hungry to care about it though.

[goblinselfshippr]

Intro for Kurt’s fic!!

Words: 711 Warnings: First person/Caz pov, familials mentioned, she thinks her magic abilities are delusions. Additional notes: I’m not writing in Kurt’s accent bc it makes me feel icky. Please let me know if there’s something I missed in the tags.

 Being the middle management for a demon king was definitely not for the faint of heart, but returning to the Xavier Institute had a certain nostalgia for me. Sam had dropped me here multiple times over the years when he was too busy to watch me. Xavier's was one of the few places equipped to handle a volatile angel child with impulse issues, and Samael had partially seen to that.

I appeared instantly at the front gates, Xavier already waiting for me. "I thought your father would be the one visiting today," He called. The professor rubbed his forehead, irritated by the demon's flightiness. I tucked my hands behind my back, "He said it would be nice for you to see me."

"It is good to see you, Cazimir. It would just be nice to see your father for once, too..."

"He's busy with his school, you know? New little brothers running rampant and all."

"Another one? How old?"

"Twins, both sixteen. Rin and Yukio."

"I see. I'll forgive him, for now, then," he decided, thinking for a moment. I felt eyes on me, but I was unsure from where. Charles goaded, "Stay for dinner, I'll make sure there's food you can eat.” At the end of his sentence, there was the distinct sound of magic, and a man appeared beside the professor. I jumped back a little, laughing off my shock. Amaimon played these games, too. He greeted the man beside him with a curt, "Professor." Oh no.

I knew this one. I had seen him long before he saw me, the opposite of his usual dynamic. I was hit with the memory of a vision I'd had years ago. Flashes of midnight blue fur, glowing gold eyes, and a fanged smile that made my cheeks sting. This was a fated meeting.

Despite my inner turmoil, the professor introduced me easily, "This is Cazimir Faust. Her father helps with the institute's upkeep and has his own program overseas. Caz, this is one of my X-men, he uses the name Nightcrawler." I smiled a little brighter, hoping that the heat from my face didn't burn outward when his eyes met mine skeptically. "So you're a mutant as well?" The newcomer asked. I shook my head, stunned, "Oh, no, I..."

I trailed off, meeting the professor's eyes, and sending a telepathic message:

Do I tell him?

He tilted his head just slightly to the side towards the man:

If you'd like, he doesn't bite.

As if sensing our conversation, Nightcrawler's tail flicked towards us, "Just an ally then. Got it." I felt a thought appear and then get snatched away just as quickly. My head whipped around to the professor, "Hey! Give that back!" Charles only laughed, and I knew from his mind that my face was red.

"Stay for dinner, I'm sure Logan will be thrilled to see you again."

Logan, despite his usual grumpy demeanor, was overjoyed. It was obvious from the way his teasing didn't stop since the moment he saw me. My pink dress, my grown-out undercut, and my obvious lack of sun were all fair game for him. He didn't mean it. It was all play, of course. Until he looked me over and asked,

"Where are your wings?"

Right. That uncomfortable question. I avoided it with a shrug, thankful for someone else catching his attention. Rogue, another person I had seen but never personally met before. The woman invited him to play basketball. She was nice enough to me, and had also assumed that I was a human. These people had real powers. I was just delusional. I sat lazily against the building, enjoying the sun from the sidelines. As I watched the others play, my mind wandered back to the man I met earlier. The professor called him Nightcrawler, though I wasn't sure of his actual name. I didn't call Logan or my old babysitters by code names. It would feel weird to call only him by his alias. But there was something else there, deep down.

I don't want to call him by his alias. I want to call him by his name and to feel close enough to him to do so

[babulejka]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ matchup trade with @teardrop-scales ⋆⭒˚.⋆

i match you up with hisirdoux casperan the xiv!

★ first of all, you’re a witch. i mean, come on, you’re an alluring woman dressed in black, how can you not be a witch? calm and mysterious, with certain charm, animals gravitate towards you... a witch, definitely. i feel like you could have magic like sophie in 'howl's moving castle' book → making things real by simply saying them. you could lay spells just by saying them.

★ douxie, douxie, douxie... i feel like you've known him for a long time. probably met him while he still was clumsy and reckless guy with god awful male bun. when he saw you the first time he almost tripped, has never felt such infatuation with any other woman he ever seen, you're just ~something else~

★ rockstar bf privilege. he dedicates you every concert. you're his inspiration when he writes songs for his band. his fan base has recognized that every single one of his songs are about you. the way he describes the subject of his love suits your exact appearance, plus a track of his is named after you. not only did he name a song about you but an entire album, it included songs describing the way he felt about you. "the enchantress" "magic of your lips" "love you to death".

★ he absolutely loves your singing, definitely encouraging you to sing more. privately, he'd love to make a duet with you and pull you into dance, just silly singing and jamming and simply having fun in his apartment (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

★ he's charming individual, expect a lot of subtle touches and flirty remarks. his adoring gaze and sugar soaked words that softly left his lips are solely reserved for you. calls you 'my fair lady' and greets you by kissing your hand. his life mission is to woo you and to sweep you off your feet. truly a gomez to your morticia.

★ matching jewelry! and outfits! and sharing clothes and accessories! and douxie is so dramatic with this. once he bought silver snake ring, planned whole date to give you it, creating this whole proposal atmosphere, kneeling down on one knee in front of you, pulling out the ring and putting it on your finger.

★ douxie is the type of man to adore the act of making you feel special and showing you off in public, especially during a date night. but what he loves even more is staying at home and sharing a lovely night in with one of your favorite films on display and homemade cooking on the table.

★ since you've known yourselves for a long time, you have very intimate relationship. you just understand each other in specific way, almost telepathically and you exactly know how to sooth each others insecurities. you have such stable and healthy relationship, filled with calmness and comfort, knowing you can relate on each other.

★ he's a palmist and sometimes he takes your hand, lovingly tracing patterns on your palm, reading your future. (usually douxie predicts you a kiss from very handsome guy and then smothers you in kisses.) he always ends this by kissing inside of your hand.

★ his friends adore you, oml<3 you create special bond with archie. and i can absolutely see you being friends with claire and zoe! absolute besties<3 you have girls nights, going to the cinema, buying clothes or trinkets, bickering playfully about silly things. you're surrounded by badass girls, because that's exactly who you are.

★ absolutely not a jealous type, but gets a bit annoyed when you pay more attention to archie than him. but who can blame you? his "assistant" "associate" is a dragon! so when, in his opinion, coo too much over his familiar, he will take you into his arms and pepper you with kisses just to have your attention for himself.

★ absolutely gets your love for spicy food. wizards usually have strange appetites, he himself is fond of medieval pies (which apparently had eyeballs inside). you make contests who can eat more zesty food (you always win). sometimes, randomly in the middle of the date, he'd ask you if you'd like to spice up things and orders some peppery food you haven't tried before.

★ loves your sass, laughs at your sarcasm, lives for your witty remarks. enjoys teasing you, because he knows that your reaction will be both funny and interesting (and probably would make him blush a bit) you truly act like good old married couple<3

[aloudplace]

Dirty thought 6

I woke sometime in the wee hours of the morning and Loki was there beside me in the bed.

He'd tucked me in himself, displaying a level of care and tenderness I'd never expected from him, and then he'd lain on top of the covers beside me and told me to go to sleep.

It had been easy to obey after what we'd done together. I still felt wonderfully loose and satiated.

Loki hadn't slept at all though. I knew because I hadn't dreamt. Being telepathic has some serious drawbacks when it comes to intimate relationships. Sharing dreams with the person sleeping next to you was definitely one of them. Being privy to the private thoughts another person has at 3 am on a sleepless night is another.

Loki was awake now, lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. And he was thinking hard.

Dark thoughts--memories of an alien planet, creatures unlike anything I had seen before. Torture. Threats. Bargains of the darkest sort.

The images and feelings were broken--jagged and fitful in the way that only traumatic memories are. His thoughts skittered across them, bouncing this way and that, latching on to certain moments and then shrinking away.

Someone had hurt him. Forced him into servitude. Tortured him brutally. Under the agony of that, there was the sharp ache of abandonment, loss. His pain was like a hot brand on my psyche.

My breath caught on a sob and Loki's head turned toward me in the dark. His mind snapped shut instantly like a steel trap and his eyes glittered with anger.

"Who is Thanos?" I whispered.

"Go back to sleep," he said softly, dangerously.

I knew he wasn't going to tell me, but I couldn't let it go. "What did he make you do?"

There was a moment of tense silence and then he rolled toward me, over me, pinning me to the bed with his body. "If you're not going to sleep, there are other things we can do," he growled.

"Loki--"

He bent and nipped my throat hard enough to make me yelp, and then he sucked the spot very gently, soothing it with his tongue. The air around him swirled with lust and anger. His mood put me on edge--frightened me a little. Or maybe it was the residue left behind from his unguarded thoughts. Either way, my body seemed to vibrate, flashing hot and cold--a fever of desire and trepidation.

Loki pressed his hips into me and he was already hard. Even through two layers of bedding, I could feel the heat of it. An answering heat pooled between my legs. I gave in to it willingly; his pain still echoed across my consciousness and I wanted fiercely to soothe it--for him and for myself.

All my earlier resistance had fled. I wanted him. At the moment, I couldn't imagine why I had resisted before. It seemed silly after everything we'd done on the couch.

I curled my arms around his shoulders as he brought his mouth to mine, slid my fingers into his hair and sighed around his tongue.

He must have sensed my surrender because his anger dissipated, replaced with a desperate sort of hunger. He started pulling at the bedding, trying to get to my body while still kissing me ravenously.

I wiggled beneath him, pushing as he pulled, equally mad with the need to feel him against me. The blankets bunched around my waist and he broke from my mouth abruptly, lifting himself to tear them aside and then coming down on top of me again, straddling my thighs.

He'd dressed after putting me to bed, but instead of the leather and armor, he'd conjured a simple cotton tunic. Before he could kiss me again I yanked the hem upward and he let me pull it off so I could touch his chest and shoulders, run my hands over his naked arms. Every inch of him was smooth and hard: lean muscle covered in fine, velvety white skin.

It made me crazy.

He was propped on his arms over me, watching with hooded eyes as I touched him. When my hands slid down over his belly he made a low sound of pleasure that made my nipples tighten and my womb clench.

"Lights," I whispered, needing to see him.

He made a quick gesture with one hand and the lamp on my bedside table switched on by itself, spilling soft golden light across the pale planes of his body.

God, he was so beautiful. I stroked my hands down his torso and he flexed into my touch, the muscles in his belly standing out in stark relief.

He was enjoying the way I looked at him-my touch and the pleasure I took in his body.

I reached for his fly and he bent to kiss me again while I freed his cock and stroked the silky column with both hands, marveling at how hard and hot he was.

Loki pushed my shirt up and dragged his hands over my breasts almost roughly, thinking about how beautiful they were, thoughts swimming with sexual aggression. His touch sent bright shocks of pleasure down into my belly, into my sex.

I wanted him inside me so bad it actually hurt.

It wasn't just my desire, though, I realized dimly. He wanted it too--his thoughts were a dark, erotic river, pouring straight into my mind.

From far away, I heard fabric tearing. He'd ripped my shirt open and now he was reaching for my pants, sucking my right breast as he yanked them down. Growling fiercely when he plunged his fingers between my legs and felt how wet I was.

An instant later the pants were gone--I didn't know how or where, and I didn't give a damn because Loki was between my legs, pushing inside me. Buried to the hilt in a quick, wet glide.

The breath left my lungs on a cry of pain and pleasure. He was big--stretching me, touching me deeply. I lifted myself, wrapped my legs around him.

His pleasure swamped me.

He was already thrusting, thoughts tangled up in the sensation of it: my body beneath him, the liquid glide of his cock inside me, my sex squeezing him tightly. The soft, helpless sounds I made with each thrust inflamed him, made him feel savage.

Intoxicated, I looked up at his face, drank his expression of ecstasy and the pleasure that radiated from him, dug my fingers into his back and rode each thrust with wild abandon.

The pleasure built so rapidly that the orgasm took me by surprise. I think I cried his name--he bent down, kissed my open mouth and rode me faster, murmuring low encouragements--yes, baby, come for me, sweetheart --and he was controlling himself carefully because he was afraid he would hurt me. I wanted to tell him to stop holding back, but the pleasure was splitting me open, setting me on fire, searing every nerve ending.

Just as the orgasm began to ebb, Loki gave a low, rasping groan and his thrusts came so hard they did hurt a bit--in the best possible way--and I made myself tighten around him, wanting to give him pleasure, to make it as good for him as it had been for me. He cried out again--a sharp, animal sound--and then he was coming, pleasure pouring off him in waves, cock jerking hard inside me as he made his final desperate thrusts.

It took a few minutes for my heart and my breathing to slow... and then reality set in.

Loki was still breathing hard, eyes closed, holding himself up on his arms because he didn't want to crush me, thoughts flowing like molasses, slow and sweet. It had been good; he couldn't remember the last time it had been so good. I'd been much less inhibited than he'd expected--more passionate, wilder. Sweeter, gazing up at him with such adoration on my face, arching into every touch, crying out his name. He wanted me again already.

And then it hit me.

Oh, shit.

I'd just had sex with the God of Mischief.

Bella, you idiot.

Loki lifted himself and looked down at me. His expression shifted from gratified to accusing, but his feelings...I read hurt and disappointment. "You regret it already."

He wasn't quite angry yet, but he was headed in that direction.

"There's a reason I didn't want to," I said reluctantly.

He swore softly. "Because you believe I don't respect you."

"No--well, I mean that was part of it. You don't see me as an equal."

His eyes narrowed. "And why else?"

Dammit. "Because I don't do casual sex."

His brows drew together. "Casual sex."

"Yes," I squirmed uncomfortably beneath him. "Could we continue this conversation when you're not..."

"Inside you?" His eyes flashed heat. The squirming had turned him on. Oops.

"Yes," I said, heart beating a little harder.

He gave me a long, focused, predatory look. I held myself very still. Finally, he pulled away.

"Stay," he said when I started to sit up. Then he swung his long legs over the edge of the mattress, stood, closed his pants, and left the room.

Nonplussed, I propped myself on my elbows and looked at the empty doorway.

He came back a moment later with a damp towel--a different one--and climbed back onto the bed to lay beside me.

"'Casual sex' must be a Midgardian concept," he murmured, nudging my legs apart so he could wipe me gently. "I'm not familiar with it."

"It's pretty self-explanatory," I mumbled, a little breathy. He was being so damned gentle. It made my heart squeeze in my chest.

"Is it?" he looked up at me. "I would not describe what we just did as 'casual.' Nor sex in general, for that matter."

I swallowed. He had tucked the rag against the opening of my sex and held it there to catch the fluid that trickled out of me.

"It means sex without feelings. Without emotions."

One of his brows arched. "You're telling me you felt no emotions when I made love to you?"

Made love? My heart lifted traitorously. "No," I said, "That's the problem."

He gave a little huff of exasperation. "You're speaking nonsense."

I sighed. Here it comes . "I'm saying I'm incapable of casual sex, Loki. I have feelings for you. Sex makes those feelings get bigger."

He was silent for a moment, but his emotions seemed to wobble from irritation to something shockingly close to...joy. "And that's a problem?"

"It is when the person I'm having sex with is a manipulative, arrogant, extraterrestrial deity with a serious superiority complex," I replied bluntly. "You're not exactly boyfriend material--not that I expect you to start dating me."

Loki took the rag away and leaned back. He wasn't insulted in the slightest, which was sort of funny--or it would have been if I wasn't tied in knots from having confessed my feelings to him. Instead, he was giving me a speculative look.

"What, exactly, are the parameters of this boyfriend/dating relationship dynamic?"

I blinked. "You want me to explain the dynamics of romantic relationships to you?"

"Human romantic relationships," he corrected.

Well, this was taking a turn I hadn't expected. I sat up and pulled the ripped edges of my shirt together, suddenly--and rather belatedly, I realized--feeling exposed. "Can I put some pants on?"

Loki glanced down at the lower half of my body with blatant appreciation. "Must you?"

But he held his hand up and my pajama pants appeared in a little flash of green light. He smiled smugly.

"Show-off." I took them from him, aware that he watched with great interest as I wiggled into them. "Why did you rip my shirt if you could do that?"

"Because I wanted to," he replied, as though it were perfectly obvious.

Alrighty then. "I liked this shirt, just so you know." I scooted back against the headboard and crossed my arms to keep the fabric closed over my breasts.

Loki flicked his hand in my direction and I felt a buzz of magic across my chest. I looked down and the rip was gone as though it had never been there.

"Wow."

He smiled. "Now tell me about Midgardian relationships."

"What do you want to know?"

Loki sat up to face me, leaning back onto his arms and stretching out so his feet rested next to my hip, legs crossed at the ankle. "Define 'boyfriend.'"

"Okay. Boyfriend is the term for a male partner with whom one has a semi-committed romantic relationship."

"Semi-committed?"

"Yeah. Fully committed would be marriage, generally speaking. There are exceptions, but--"

"What's the difference between a boyfriend and a lover?" he interrupted.

I thought about it. "Depends on who you ask. To me the difference is that a boyfriend is someone you're attached to publicly, and the relationship is monogamous. A lover is someone you just have sex with, there's no commitment, and it isn't necessarily monogamous."

"Interesting," he murmured, green gaze trained on my face with disturbing focus. "So you would have 'casual' sex with a lover, but not with a boyfriend?"

"Right. I mean, sex with a lover doesn't have to be casual, per se, but...it doesn't really work that way for me."

"Which is why you didn't want to have sex with me."

I nodded.

The speculative look in his eyes darkened into something else entirely. "Because you expect me to be opposed to a semi-committed, monogamous relationship."

My heart was suddenly fluttering right at the base of my throat. "Yes...and no."

His eyes narrowed. "Explain."

I took a slow, careful breath. "I don't know that you're capable of a semi-committed, monogamous relationship, Loki."

"You don't think I'm capable ?" he repeated softly.

Swallowing hard, I nodded.

"And why is that?" he replied in a silky, dangerous voice, eyes glittering.

"Emotional intimacy," I said bluntly, heart racing.

The temper in his eyes--in his aura--faltered.

"It's a necessary part of the kind of relationship we're talking about," I said gently. "And it doesn't seem like something you'd be able to give me."

Loki licked his lips slowly--an unconscious, nervous gesture. I could feel his confusion, his hesitation, though his thoughts were guarded.

"Can you give me closeness, Loki?" I asked very quietly. "Would you listen to my private thoughts and feelings? Share yours with me? Would you even want to?"

His eyes had gone very cold, his face still. Showing nothing. He'd withdrawn further from me psychically than ever before, but... he was thinking. Processing.

He was actually considering it.

And doing so filled him with a host of very conflicting emotions.

"You don't have to answer right now," I said, battling the hope that rose in my chest.

Don't do it, Bella. Don't wait around for the God of Mischief to fall in love with you. Be realistic.

"You won't make love with me again unless I agree to this," he said, low and slightly accusatory.

"Don't say it like that. It's not an ultimatum, and it's not a transaction. This is about my personal well being. I can't just give you that kind of intimacy without getting hurt."

Loki stared me down for what felt like several minutes. My heartbeat was very loud in my ears.

And then he shocked the hell out of me.

"Monogamy, I can give you," he said cautiously.

What? I blinked at him like a fool, not sure I had heard correctly.

"Public acknowledgment as well," he added. "If that's what you require."

I think my mouth dropped open. I had forgotten how to breathe.

"And I'll listen to whatever you want to tell me."

My throat tightened. Is this really happening? "Loki-"

"But the rest will be difficult," he finished stiffly.

Words had deserted me. This was all wrong. I hadn't expected--not in my wildest dreams had I thought--not even for a second!

"Are you sure you actually want this?" I blurted. "Or is it just because you want to have sex with me?"

He gave me a baleful look, eyes going dark.

"I like the idea that you will be publicly marked as mine," he said flatly.

My head swam. "Is that all?"

He hesitated, but the words rang with truth when he finally spoke them. "I want to hear your intimate thoughts."

It floored me. Loki wanted intimacy. Real intimacy. With me. The God of Mischief was completely wrecking my perception of him as an untouchable egomaniac.

But still... "Can you treat me with respect?" I asked. "Consistently?"

His expression became hooded, cool. "I treat all my things with respect."

Son of a B-- I was so pissed I couldn't move for a moment. Then I just started hitting him--knowing it was stupid, and there was no way I could actually hurt him--but I was so mad I couldn't see straight. He was laughing--the asshole!- -and he fell back onto the mattress with me half-on top of him, punching his naked chest as hard as I could.

Finally, he caught hold of my wrists and said, "Alright, alright, I yield!"

"You are such an asshole! " I snarled.

He was grinning. "I know."

"I'm serious, Loki! This is a serious conversation!"

"I know it is."

"Then take it seriously! "

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry."

I sat back abruptly on my heels, nonplussed. Loki lay flat on his back looking up at me, black hair fanned around his head, attempting to look serious. His eyes were creased with amusement.

He was happy. He thought he had me--that I was his. Smug bastard.

"Let go," I said, tugging at his grip on my wrists.

He let me go.

I rubbed my face with both hands, overwhelmed. I was half in love with the God of Mischief already, and I'd let him seduce me. I both wanted to be with him and was afraid to let it happen. And then there was the stuff he had been thinking about when he thought I was asleep...too many revelations for one day. And every single one with serious potential consequences.

I caught sight of the clock on the nightstand. It was after 4am. "I'm too tired to continue this conversation," I said, realizing just how true it was. I was exhausted, physically and emotionally.

The mattress shifted. Loki had sat up. He was leaning close to me. "Bella," he murmured.

"No more," I whispered. "I need to go to sleep."

His arms curled around me, and it was unexpected but...exactly what I needed. Temper crumbling away, I turned and burrowed into his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"I adore you," I whispered helplessly.

"Mmm," he held me tighter, kissed my neck. His feelings flowered in my mind, slow and warm; satisfaction, affection, desire. A blossoming sort of tenderness that he found both unexpected and disconcerting. He gave in to it though, because he wanted to comfort me.

Tears stung my eyes.

It felt good, to be held like that that. By him of all people.

I wanted more of it. More tender, affectionate Loki. More thoughtful, caring Loki.

More fiercely passionate Loki.

"Don't hurt me, okay?" I whispered, knowing it was stupid. He would hurt me. It was inevitable.

And Loki must have known it too, because he didn't bother to answer.

[amyelevenn]

muddy days

PAIRING; c!SBI x gn!reader

SUMMARY; request - platonic Technoblade, where he's trying to maybe give gardening lessons to everyone but someone (maybe Tommy/Wilbur/idk) start a mud fight? Just something fluffy and entertaining, I just enjoy reading about Techno trying to gives lessons of any kind 😁 Phil needs to go do some things, leaving Techno in charge of his siblings - one thing leads to another and a mud fight breaks out (ages: Techno & Wilbur - twins - 16, you - 9 (also called Clymene), Tommy - 7 (Also called Theseus))

WARNINGS; none

A/N; ahhhh adorable request !!! had fun writing this as I barely write fluff :))

1.3k words - M.LIST

The past week had been rain, rain, and you guessed it – more rain. Mother nature took no break, deciding it best to have it pour non-stop for 6 straight days. Some hours were heavier than others, yet it never varied past a light shower.

The weather was so bad that if it were human you would have no choice but to assume they were miserable.

Miserable. The perfect way Tommy and his siblings would describe this forecast. You were all sick and tired of being locked up inside, to the point where Wilbur got so antsy that he pulled his two younger siblings out with him to play in the rain. Yeah, it did result in a scolding from his father, but all three knew the short time outside was worth more than their money.

After yet another night of seemingly endless rain, dawn broke when the down pour finally eased. It drizzled for a little while longer, but came to a proper end by the time the sun was comfortably above the horizon.

Phil really wanted to take the chance to get out and do what he needed for supplies so his family could suffice, so that is exactly what he did. He was gone before his three youngest were awake, making a quick conversation with Techno to double check the hybrid remembered all of the household rules.

Techno was ecstatic that he would get to boss around his annoying siblings for the day, finally able to get the stuff he wanted done around the house. He knew that their home would look better than it ever had by the time Phil was back. (Because really, all he wanted was to make his dad proud.)

As the Minecraft kin awoke, Techno immediately informed them on what would be happening today – hastily promising it would be fun when he was met with three separates groans of distaste. You ate breakfast as per usual, then the hybrid sent you all off to do certain chores.

“Waaiitt,” Wilbur objected, “can’t we get dressed first? Surely you won’t deprive us of that.”

Techno shot him a glare, which his twin only shrugged off. “Fine,” he huffed, “but don’t wear anything good, we are going to do some gardening later.”

You and Tommy wailed in disapproval whilst Wilbur shook his head, clearly not happy with Phil’s decision.

the break for lunch came and passed sooner than any of you would’ve liked, and it wasn’t long after everyone had finished that Techno was dragging you all out the back door to start gardening. Once all eight gum boots had been slotted onto their respected feet, you raced Tommy down the stairs and to the shed. You were having a good day so far, so you let Tommy win. The smile on his face was much better than winning would’ve gotten you anyway.

As the mud squelches under foot, a brilliant idea forms in your head, and when you look up at Tommy, based on the glint in his eyes, you can tell he has the exact same idea.

The twins interrupt your ‘telepathic’ conversation with Tommy, scurrying into the shed to grab any necessary tools. The duo came back out, guiding you over to the veggie patch.

“Alright Theseus, Clymene, you two will plant whilst Wilby and I will weed,” Techno directed, ignoring the pointed scowl coming from his twin at the childish nickname.

“What are we planting Tech?” you ask.

“Uh- just some carrots and potatoes, nothing that exciting,” Wilbur interjects.

You and Tommy hum in approval, making quick work of grabbing the necessary seeds and running over to a separate veggie garden to be alone. As you hastily throw down your tools, Tommy looks up with the most wicked grin you had ever seen.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he smirks.

“That depends sir,” you giggle, attempting to hide your ever-growing smile. “Were you thinking about how fun mud can be to play with?”

“Yeah!”

“Good me too!”

The pair of you laugh, oblivious to the twins’ gaze on you. They could tell the two of you were up to no good, but were weirdly willing to let it all play out.

“Ok Toms I’ll move to the other side of the veggie patch so that way you can throw mud at me, but I will ‘accidentally’ duck so it hits Wilby in the face,” you snicker.

“Why do I have to throw?” Tommy whines.

“Why can’t you?”

“Techno likes you better so he won’t get mad if you do it.”

You think for a moment. “Good point. You move to the other side and I’ll throw okay?”

He nods, salutes, then crawls so he is opposite of you, his back turned to his brothers. You wait until Tommy is the only one with his eyes on you, then ready yourself.

“Get down,” you whisper, failing to contain your massive smile.

 “MUD FIGHT!!” you screech, gathering the biggest clump of mud that you could muster and piffing it at Wilbur’s head. Unfortunately your aim isn’t exactly perfectly accurate – so instead of hitting the twin you aimed for, you may have hit the other.

For a hot minute, everything froze. You thought for sure this was how you were going to die – Technoblade killing you for something you misdirected. Wilbur’s pupils were blown wide – as were Tommy’s – at what had happened, both clearly unsure of what Techno’s reaction would be.

“Tech?” you gulp, fear running rampant through your veins. “I- I didn’t mean to hit you I was aiming for Wilby I promise-”

Your sentence got cut short because a big, gooey chunk of mud landed straight in between your eyes.

“Bullseye,” Techno smirks, already prepping himself to make Tommy his next target. Wilbur seemed to have a similar idea, glancing at his twin before launching his attack.

Wilbur’s mud pie hit Tommy in the back of the head, causing him to turn around and then be struck on the nose by Techno’s.

Multitudes of laughter echoed around the garden at the youngest’s double whammy, joy spreading like a contagious disease. You and the gang felt better than you had in over a week.

Yet when you noticed how clean Wilby was looking, you didn’t bother to resist the urge to push him over and into the mud. Running as fast as you could, you grinned as his own smile faltered, quickly realising what he was in for.

You cackled as he scrambled to his feet, screaming oh so loud. “Noooooo Clymene I’m your favourite! You wouldn’t dare!”

“Yes I would!” you cheered, chasing him in circles around the veggie patches.

You could hear Tommy shrieking in glee as he did the same thing to Techno, antagonizing the elders with you.

Adrenaline flourished throughout all four siblings as the chase continued for a while, the two younger beginning to tire out. The twins knew it to be only fair for them to slow down, meeting eyes for only a second as if in mutually agreement to let the youngin’s best them.

Hope sparks in both yours and Tommy’s chests as your pursuit was coming to an end. For you, all you had to do was stick your leg out for Wilbur to trip on, falling and landing face first into the ground – now coated head to toe in mud.

Tommy, on the other hand, had a bit more trouble bringing down the piglin. So, after lending him a hand up, you and Wilby decided to help him out.

With his twin holding his hands behind his back, Techno was stuck, rendered useless. Tommy and you had a field day smushing mud onto his face, smearing it on his neck and arms.

Despite how grimy and gross the twins felt about being saturated in dirt, both knew the pure happiness that shone from Clymene and Theseus was well worth everything that had happened.

And although he claims it was a waste of time, to this day it remains one of Technoblade’s fondest childhood memories.

[mandalhoerian]

poison you literally said everything AHHHH !! it made me want to yap a little about this fish 😭

1- i want to say that with rafayel you get the ideal version of a man you can play with together with none of the real life downsides, which is immaturity & weaponized incompetence & irritating childishness! it's a healing factor honestly to be able to have fun & be silly together without having to hold back, he eggs you on and encourages you to come be silly with him and that it's okay to be like that. it's "let's unlearn shame together" meme LMFAO and there's a sense of safety bc it doesn't go too far since rafayel knows boundaries.

2- gap moe. he's only like this (whiny, bratty, entitled, flirty) with you, by the way. rafayel unexpectedly is the "i hate everyone but you" guy. he's literally colder than sylus to others, even with fellow lemurians he's distant (not unkind). like, outside of you, that's a completely different man. he's SCARY. i can't emphasize how his "waiter" at the nest made my stomach DROP. you have privileges with him. it's not that he's pretending to be a certain way with you, it's that only you get this loverboy side of him. one could say he's "tailored" this personality for you so you wouldn't be threatened by him or get scared/won't see the "real" him, but in my opinion it's become real the more he spent time with you/felt safe around you. much to be said on this topic but i digress. i am in love with shady man who becomes a clown with you trope (see: 707 from mysme being my obsession back then)

2.5- like, he's on a killing spree of ever researchers who were involved with experimentation and killings of lemurians over the years. he also may or may not have been held captive in the past like that. WE TEND TO FORGET THAT PART OF HIM..... dude infested his painting with metaflux so it would 1) make raymond hallucinate and deteriorate 2) attract wanderers that would kill him. he then went to his funeral and left flowers for the poor lemurian whose skeleton was being displayed as an art piece in his house. and also killed someone with his song. god knows what else he did. sylus does it outright but this man is an assassin. he's SCA-RY. it's such a whiplash to see him go "glub glub" to my face knowing all this 😭

3- the part about him being perfect for bi girls is SO REAL AGH not only is his design very unabashedly delicate (like, the tattoos, accessories and clothes of god of the tides as well) and he falls under the "pretty/beautiful man" umbrella, but the lemurian merfolk concept in itself is so romantic. he's the farthest thing from traditional masculinity. you could go shopping with this man, he would personally dress you up (fashion!) & help you be your best self, hell he'd do color analysis of you, he could do your makeup. he'd be into gossip and drama. and there'd be no insecurity involved. he's very safe for people like me who are in the skittles squad, into androgyny & are afraid of men in general.

4- lemurian bond. you can order him around. he won't ever do anything you don't want, and there's something very reassuring about that LMFAO. also, he can lowkey sense what you want and think through this bond. ever wanted a man to telepathically just know without saying anything? this is him. lemurians are partner-oriented. it's unbelievable when you think about it, but yeah. mating for life. live for love, die for love. he's a literal fairytale lover. insane concept, to be honest. back when he was a god mc wanted something in return for her worship and he literally went "TAKE MY HEART" and doomed his people -- insane.

5- in terms of "versions" of a character, he really takes the cake. imo, other love interests show the same character traits they have in their myths and they don't go through a lot of *core* changes like rafayel does. sea god rafayel, abysswalker rafayel and current rafayel are three different people. sea god is at times cruel, intimidating, awkward, and serious with potential to be sensitive. abysswalker is mysterious, a yearner and alluring. both outright show competence and power current rafayel is hiding away from sight. rafayel as a character is very versatile, and has gone through a lot of development and change. he has so much range.

6- softcore stalker... we tend to forget he i kinda love a man who's a little crooked in the head and is obsessed with me.

ANYWAY IM STOPPING. ENOUGH I KNOW. SORRY

genuine question because youre one of my favorite writers, you seem to really have a thorough grasp of the characters: what do you see in rafayel that makes him appealing? i try to get past his entitled brattiness because i really want to enjoy all of the guys, but i cant see anything else. please help me understand 🥲

Oh boy, baby, darling, sweetheart, you opened a can of worms. Come do a little bit of character analysis with me~

About Rafayel:

Rafayel is a brat, yes. But that means he wears his heart on his sleeve, outright when he needs your attention or sulking when something is bothering him or faking a dramatic accident to get your attention. There's no silent guessing or fake "I'm fine's," just his overdramatic, raw emotion that's easy to read. He's has anxious attachment stemming from hundreds of years of betrayal and loss.

Rafayel is a romantic, a yearner. And yes, while I also agree his attitude was annoying at first I am very unfortunately into people who get on my nerves, especially when they are flirty and funny as well. I folded during his hospital scene.

Entitled? He is a god. He has been trying and failing to save his entire civilization for over 800 years and still simply can't because he refuses to hurt the one he loves. While all the boys have been through pain there's something about Rafayel's story that really gets me. I think it’s because if I— as mc— knew the sacrifice he was making, I would give myself up. So to have someone selfish enough to place me first is heartbreaking, devoted, and cruel. 

Also there are plenty of scenes where Rafayel is serious, especially if you read between the lines. The brattiness and sass is a playful cover to someone who's been through pain and understands it. Someone who chooses to still see joy and happiness in his life while fully understanding how cruel the world is.

Simply, I'm a sucker for doomed character archetypes. There is no version of Rafayel's and mc's story where they both end happy. Millions of people will die or if mc kills herself Rafayel will live forever as a husk of his former self. Using a sassy, filirty, bratty attitude to cover up such a genuinely depressing story is so juicy to me.

About Me:

I'm a Zayne irl. Work is honestly the most important thing to me outside my family, I'm devoted to my hobbies and leadership positions, and I have a close circle of friends I would do anything for.

I'm the eldest sibling, the guard dog, the de-facto leader for almost everything. I'm the person who had to grow up fast, to parent my immigrant parents at times, who never made space for love, and who is by default independant and comfortable with it.

I prefer to listen-- I love my yapper friends. Don't get me wrong I can talk for hours about anything, but day to day I tend to get exhausted talking after a while so I surround myself with people who can do the easy talking for me.

My irl partner is a mix between Rafayel and Sylus I'd say. He's the one who pulls me out of my work spirals by nagging me until I give in, someone I'm comfortable yapping about my current hyperfixations too, someone who my inner child can come out to. But I also enjoy being a caregiver, that's always been my role and I relish in it, I like being relied upon as much as I appreciate having someone in my life that lets me take a step back. The only part that's Sylus is how his love language is bullying me and his vibe/looks lmao, but usually I am more into raf-stereotypical pretty boys.

So, overall, the appeal of Rafayel to those that choose him:

Rafayel is for the eldest daughters who needs their inner child to be free, who needs a little bit of ridiculousness and impulsiveness in their lives.

Rafayel is for those who never got praised for their effort or strength, for those who success was the only option, who had to be perfect, reliable and serious all the time. He makes it so clear how much simply being with you means to him, constantly complimenting, flirting, and reassuring you just how much he needs you. Showing you how obsessed with you he is.

Rafayel is for those who didn't think love had a place in their lives due to shit family or life circumstances. He proves time and time again that you're the only one he loves. Even though he's lived forever, you were worth the wait and that he would wait again for you, no matter how long it takes. He proves you can be loved, and that it comes easy.

Rafayel is for those who always placed others first. He's more than willing to show you again and again you will always be first in his mind. He needs you more than he does water. Sure, you can take care of him, but he wants to be with you and take care of you, too.

Rafayel is for those who need someone else to drag them out of work/school/spiralling even when they don't want to admit it, bringing in laughter, color, and a little bit of dramatics.

Rafayel is for creators who dedicate themselves to their craft, who are scared of losing this "spark," who want to get better but constantly feel that what they create isn't enough or must be more. 

Rafayel is for hopeless romantics, those that go out of their way to surprise their friends during their birthdays, those who plan platonic dates for those they care about, those who put out so much love into the world and suddenly break when they get that love back.

Rafayel is for those used to having little siblings or those to take care of in our lives. Only while Rafayel relishes in the attention, he's also ready to give it back five-fold.

Rafayel is a switch for switch (brat for brat) lmao. He's for those who like to start on top, teasing and pushing his buttons to get all those cute reactions out of him, just until he breaks. Then he can take control and finish us up. We love vocal men.

Maybe projecting, but Rafayel is the perfect bi-girl's boyfriend. He's a classic pretty boy, unafraid to be in touch with his feminine side, a little dramatic, a little artsy. But he's also super romantic, sensitive, loving, and intense. And gosh, who could say no to those big puppy eyes?

I could probably continue to talk about Rafayel for hours, but ya, hopefully this helps answer why I and others love this man. Just continue on with the main story and read between the lines with his dialogue and I'm sure you'll pick up on it too~