#hopefully I can figure out how to explain this in a healthy way to the person who triggered me yesterday bc I like them

[penkura]

Scared of Doctors anon again.

I now raise you: Law during his time at Punk Hazard finding y/n while they're still a subject.

Honestly I have too many thoughts about this. It's helping me wait for the dub to come out

Such good ideas though, omg. I'm thinking and more is coming to me for this, it's such a good prompt. There's so many ways it could go!

But for now...

Law had not intended to save you when he came to Punk Hazard. He had a plan, one that would hopefully bring down this Devil Fruit factory and help him get his revenge, it didn't include meeting and getting to know you little by little in the time he was there. You had run into Law by accident when trying to escape, making him curious about what was going on.

You look scared when you first run into him, having turned a corner abruptly and colliding with the young doctor, asking him for help.

"Please, help me get out of here!"

"What?"

There's a fear in your eyes he doesn't like seeing, while you grip his coat tightly and plead with Law to save you, somehow. He knew Caesar was conducting experiments, obviously with the SMILE fruit and everything, but he didn't know the extent, and now he's more curious seeing you.

You look perfectly fine and healthy, there doesn't seem to be a reason why you should be afraid of anything. Most of the people that Law has seen through the lab are willing participants, or they've been bribed by Caesar with something for him to use them. You don't seem to fit either bill, unless there's something hidden that even he can't see.

But his powers should tell him, right? The brief scan he does shows nothing is wrong, though he can see some kind of drugs in your system. He'd have to do his own testing to figure out what they are and what they're for, but you're interrupted by Monet a moment later.

"Oh, I see you've met our oldest patient, doctor."

Law's concerns grow when you immediately remove your hands from him, looking towards the ground with more fear than before. Monet explains you'd been sick with a highly deadly virus three years ago before she and Caesar took you in, away from your home and family, and have been working ever since to find a cure. He watches as you back away bit by bit, turning more into yourself and apologizing, before turning around and running back where you'd come from. When he asks Monet at the illness was, she beats around the bush and doesn't give a straight answer, Law knows something is wrong with this situation but he's not in a position to figure out what it is.

Not until the Straw Hats and the Navy show up anyway. The distractions provided by them allow him the time to find you again, though you still seem fearful of him. He holds his hands up where you can see them, making you tilt your head.

"I won't hurt you. I won't touch you at all. I can use my powers to see about your illness."

"...why bother? I'm gonna die anyway."

How strange, to hear words he'd said so long ago said to his own face, but in such a different situation. After Law explains how his Devil Fruit powers work, you consent to letting him do a proper Scan, and you're confused when he tells you there's no sign of any illnesses in your body. He still sees those drugs in your system, but he doesn't have the time to check what they are yet.

"We're going to destroy this place. You'll have to come with me if you want answers from Caesar."

You really don't know if you should trust him or not, he hasn't given you much of a reason not to apart from being a doctor, like Caesar and Monet had claimed to be. Your voice is shaky when you ask Law if he promises to find out what happened, and when he does, you're almost crying as you nod. Law lets you take his hand, once you've calmed down and agreed to go with him, he starts to lead you to a safer area.

"I won't let anything happen to you, all right? Not until we get you the answers you need."

For some reason, you decide to trust him.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 33)

Uzi took a canister of oil with her when they left, taking a drink out of it to hopefully cool herself off. N was holding Tera much like you would a human baby, supporting her head with his hand. The trip was mostly quiet, both drones overtaken by the same, and separate, worry.

She wasn't sure what has going on with her, as she took a read on her internal temperature, it came back normal, telling her that her oil reserves were full, and that her systems were nominal.

Even so, she felt herself getting warmer as they walked, she took another gulp of oil, even as it continued to do nothing to help. If the heat wasn't coming from her systems though… where was it coming from?

“Are you sure you're okay?” N asked, putting a hand on her back as they rounded the corner to Khan’s apartment, she nodded, this didn't feel like her overheating, that kind of heat was all-encompassing, searing, and painful.

This heat was… none of those things, she was just… warm. It was uncomfortable sure, because it seemed to want to pool into her head and down her back, but she wasn't scared, she wasn't hungry.

“Yeah, I think so.”

They reached the door that was their destination, Uzi's hand pounding into it as their gazes both fell on the still immobile toddler, Tera's eyelights scrunched as she met her mother's eyes.

Her kit would be fine, her core was healthy, the rest would come with time.

She shook her head, shaking the weirdly assuring thought out of her head. Kit?

Her dad opened the door with the biggest smile on his face, ushering them in with a “Come in, Come in!” N was already smiling, although his tail was instinctually arching around Uzi, as if his body was reacting to her discomfort even if he was consciously unaware of it.

“I see my granddaughter has her toddler body! What a cute little head of black hair!” N nodded, agreeing with him although overtaken by more worry, Tera's eyelights roamed over to Khan, staring intently.

“Oh my… has she not moved since the transfer?” Khan asked, stepping a little closer to his essentially-already-his-son-in-law.

“No… that's why we're here, we kinda wanted advice.” N replied, and Uzi nodded back, still slightly distracted by her own temperature.

“You… came to me for parenting advice?” Khan looked touched, one of his hands gripping his shirt over his core.

“She hasn't even been able to move her mouth.” Uzi explained, placing a hand on Tera's core, it was covered by the purple onesie, but she could still feel it thrumming away.

She's okay, see? Stop worrying.

“How long ago did she get this body?” He asked, putting his hand underneath his chin as he thought.

“A couple days ago.” N replied, holding the small toddlers hand and rubbing his thumb gently into it, he wasn't sure if she could feel it or not, but he hoped it was still comforting.

“Hmmm, well Uzi took a day to start moving, it could just be she just hasn't figured it out yet.” Khan suggested, smiling gently at N, possibly as an attempt to ease his worries, but N (nor Uzi) didn't seem to be pacified.

“But, let me take a look at her.”

N nodded, slowly dropping the toddler in her grandpa's arms, Khan looked at her for a moment, and Tera at him, eyes turning upwards into a smile.

“Well she's got her visor down.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, she got that down almost immediately.” Uzi responded, a weird feeling of possessiveness taking over, watching her dad hold her kid. It wasn't so bad she couldn't ignore it, but it was still strange.

When N held her, she didn't feel that way, what was the difference?

Khan held her up, her arms and legs dangling and her head slumping to the side, as if she was a doll.

“Your mom and I massaged your limbs to get the oil flowing, you could try that.” He suggested, turning to his daughter as he began to cradle Tera in his arms.

“Shouldn't her core be doing that?” N replied, pointing at the center of his chest for emphasis.

“Yes but… sometimes some manual movement can do the trick.” Khan took her over to the couch, laying her on her back and sprawling her out, she blinked at the sudden movement.

“I've been moving them for her… is that not the same thing?” N asked as he followed Khan to the couch, Uzi right behind him as she lept up onto the top of the couch on all fours, before jumping again to land next to N, who had crouched down on the floor.

“That was good instinct, but this may be more effective if her limbs are stiff.” Khan explained, taking one of Tera's limp arms and squeezing the tubing between his fingers firmly, but not nearly enough to hurt.

N watched him for a moment, analyzing his movements before taking her other arm and doing the same, only he had to be far more careful.

One wrong move, and he could rip her arm clean off.

He gulped at that thought, but continued, Khan stopped, and grabbed Uzi's hand to put it on Tera's arm, she looked at him curiously.

“Your daughter, you should be the ones doing it.” He smiled, and she couldn't help but smile back, the possessive feeling suddenly draining as she messaged her daughters arm.

She was reminded a bit of the old Biology books she'd read, where some animals licked their newborns not only to get them moving, but to clean them as well.

Only, Tera wasn't a newborn, and she was using her hands.

Tera's eyelights didn't portray any emotion, only her looking between her parents, who were both now focused on their task.

She trained her eyelights on the arm N was working on, eyelights furrowed in strain, the fingers in that arm twitching enough for N to take notice.

“It's working! Come on Tera, you got this!”

Uzi felt her core leap, smile overtaking her face.

Tera, spurred on by the praise, put more effort into moving her limbs, the whole arm jerking into her chest, the fingers on the arm Uzi was working on twitching erratically.

“Good job! Little more!” Uzi found herself joining in on the praise, not noticing the way Khan stiffened for a moment at the way her voice sounded. Or N's tail wrapping around her waist.

N moved down to her leg, keeping the pressure even and controlled as best he could in his excitement.

The arm Uzi had been massaging jerked before it too was pulled into Tera's chest, both arms now clumsily trying to grab everything. Her fingers not quite dexterous enough to do much but barely grip.

Her legs were next, going from stiff to kicking wildly into the air, nearly planting a foot in poor N's face, Uzi snickered, before she too had to dodge a uncontrolled kick to the visor.

“Looks like she just needed a little push.” Khan said, looking down onto the family from behind the couch, N's attention went to her mouth.

“Do we… like squish her face?”

“I guess.”

Both of N's hands came to squish Tera's silicone face, to be honest, it looked a little ridiculous. But still N pinched and squished her cheeks like an overly affectionate aunt.

And slowly, her head began to try to turn away from him, and her mouth turned to show her tiny teeth gritting as N rubbed her face.

He pulled his hands away, both parents leaned in to watch as Tera lifted her head slightly, roving as she slowly looked around the room.

Her eyes locked with Uzi again.

And the first sound out of her mouth was not a word, but a noise;

Chiiiiirp

Next ->

[callipraxia]

A Very Partial Annotation of The Book of Bill

The Axolotl, perhaps unsurprisingly, remains a mysterious figure even after his second-ever canonical appearance. Luckily (?) for us, though, nothing in Bill's ramblings directly contradicts the existence of Ax's metaphysically unstable and perpetually irritated brother the Olm, and he had a few things to say about Bill's latest escapades....

Disclaimer: This post should in no way be taken seriously. This is just me reacting to the book in only slightly delayed real-time, transcribing the sticky notes full of first impressions which cover my copy and elaborating them into dialogues both in and out of character because it amused me. This is about as serious as the Weirdmageddon: The Musical! incident. Also, Olly’s customary underlining has been replaced by a different font because tumblr doesn’t have an ‘underline text’ button for some reason.

Calli: Interesting cover...that's clearly meant to be an adaptation of an ankh in the corners of the book, and that's the same shape as the Emperor's scepter in the traditional tarot, and Ford takes the place of the Emperor in the Mystery Tarot....

Olm: Yes, because Stanford is so well-known for how well he embodies the concepts of authority and structure and the Idealized Father and Administrator. I somehow doubt young Bill made the association. It's more likely a reference to how the book allows him to behave as if he was still alive, to whatever extent.

Calli: I mean, you're probably right, but that's no reason to ruin my fun, is it?

Olm: ....

**************************************

Olm: You spent hours reading the alchemical symbols in different directions and making wild guesses about what they were supposed to be. Those sticky notes will make your family think you have either joined a cult or have become a serial killer if you ever lose track of two of them at once. These are the reasons why I ruin your fun.

**************************************

Calli: ...Yep, Ford definitely doesn't have any ongoing anger issues or PTSD-like psychological phenomena associated with Bill. Shooting the trashcan with a shotgun is totally normal, healthy behavior and definitely not something that would make it...concerning...if teenagers with no taste ever did pull such a prank....

Olm: I presume the loss of a perfectly serviceable trash can took place in the name of that piece of theater. Shooting the book would have sufficed. Or at least not failed any more miserably than the attempt where he did shoot the trash can failed anyway.

**************************************

Calli: ...Ford, you can't just tell me that books can be infected by the contents of other books and not explain what that means. What does that even mean?!

Olm: As usual, he never thinks of the consequences of his actions. Just dump dangerous artifacts in everyone else's realities, why don't you, wash your own hands of it, it's quite impossible that it will ever come back to haunt you after that…

**************************************

Calli: Luckily, this image doesn't pull off the jump scare nearly as well the second time around. Hopefully, this means I won't see this monstrosity in my dreams....

Olm: ...you've written things more disturbing than that, but a simple visual makes you uneasy? How quaint.

**************************************

Calli: Gotta love a children’s book that personifies rivers while offering step-by-step instructions for murder!

Olm: See those text boxes? Those text boxes are why you stay in school, children. One trillion years old and still can't spell...or, for that matter, apparently operate a decent word processor.

**********************************

Calli: ….puppets don’t have neurons. And that ‘chapter you won’t find’ business - what’s that about? Is it a reference to the Barnes and Noble version, or just an attempt to make us all waste a lot of time, or…?

Olm: Yes.

**************************************

Olm: As much as I hate to give him credit, that tangle of symbols probably is the closest thing to the correct answer that you all could process. Not the most poetic expression, but we’ve already discussed young Bill’s conflicted relationship with the written language…

**************************************

Calli: …isn’t that just a description of a normal potato?

**************************************

Olm: …somewhere, amidst all the glories of the multiverse, there is a human who will attempt to fit samples of every item on the Cheesecake Factory’s menu into a blender. It cannot be otherwise. There is at least one human who is doing that right now, in fact, and who will not believe me when I tell them that they will accomplish nothing more impressive than developing a severe case of indigestion at the end of that ill-advised quest. In light of that, I hardly see what the point is to informing you all that drinking fear will also probably give you indigestion, but take my word for it: there are much finer emotion-beverages out there. I’m rather partial to flow states, myself.

Calli: …welp, guess that explains why I’ve been struggling to write for the past two years. Also, Goliath is not gonna be happy about Bill’s picture there….

Olm: And I also look perfectly presentable in a bow tie, thank you very much. If I want to. It tells you a lot about an entity when he does something like claim allegiance to a style of formalwear so recently developed by one species that it might as well be a single particle in one atom in the shortest, thinnest thread of the Great Tapestry of reality…and do let me know if you ever make plans to tell Cthulhu that last bit to his face, Billy-boy. I’ll make popcorn.

Calli: …what use do you have for popcorn? Your most common form is a salamander, and I'm told the next most common one has four faces, two of which are always screaming.

Olm: That still leaves me two faces which can be put to better uses even on days when I can’t be bothered to take a stable form that has teeth. Next question.

**************************************

Olm: Finally! Some reading material that doesn’t aggravate my cosmic migrai -

[Eldritch profanity ensues]

**************************************

Calli: …ok, I can’t lie, that last line...that one kiiiiiinda hurt. Was that really necessary, Ford?

**************************************

Calli: I hate the source, as you all know too well…but man’s got a point about the relative importance of magic tricks and who’s crushing on you in the vast majority of cases.

Olm: Ultimately, they both sink into the nothingness from which they came, never having accomplished anything important enough to be remembered more than a few centuries at the most...but if I must pick one, magic has certainly proven more useful than any of my assorted ex-spouses.

**************************************

Olm: I’ll grant my lying, backstabbing excuse for a sister this much - she never made anyone pretend to be happy about being in any of the afterlives she's presided over. That’s more our brother’s style… Of course, my sister also used keratin deposits from the corpses of her subjects to construct vehicles for one of Father’s schemes, so I suppose allowing the wretched creatures to look miserable really was the least that she could do...but Bill really is too annoying for any self-respecting hell. Perhaps they could deserve each other, but even I don't hate her enough to subject her to that.

**************************************

Calli: …why was the second page so much harder to read than the first one was in my hand mirror?

Olm: The mirror also reflects what it reverses.

**************************************

Calli: ...Ok, I already said it, but this book *really* needs to stop hitting so close to home...

**************************************

Olm: Ah, yes. That incident. Someone remind me to thrash him again sometime for that one. Such a mess to clean up, and Huitzilopochtli is still screaming....

**************************************

Olm: Ah...self-sabotage! Let me sprinkle a bit of that onto my popcorn.

Calli: Am I the only one way too excited to see Powers' agency's card here? To find out they knew about Bill? To find out that the U.S. government once physically captured Bill and took a blood sample??

Pity about the "Bureau of..." bit, though. It took forever to think up the DFSI and now I'm going to have to adjust to it being the BFSI, I guess, and that doesn't roll off the tongue nearly as well.

**************************************

Olm: Oh, of course he'd be tasteless enough to include a photograph of his chess set, mortals aren't even supposed to know that those exist....

Calli: I've written about your brother's. You also used chess metaphors to drop hints in Part III.

Olm: Neither of us is semi-canonical!

**************************************

Olm: I would call that an unusually flattering sketch of my brother, if not for Stanford's unawareness his existence and for his proximity to what appears to be some sort of...aardvark?

**************************************

Calli: Interesting that everything after the first one is dangerously close to some aspect of the truth...I'm gonna take this as a point of support for my theory that Ford really contacted Fiddleford about the Portal less because he needed the technical expertise than because he knew on some level that he was in deep trouble and was practically screaming for help without even realizing it.

Also, I love the fact that Ford is trying to solve potentially prophetic dreams with fridge magnets.

**************************************

Calli: Fun fact! I spent so long looking at charts of alchemical symbols in an attempt to make sense of that row of them inside the front cover that I was actually able to recognize those two in the center of Nightmare Bill's pupil there. They mean..."Vinegar" and "Distilled Vinegar II." No idea why they're there, but that's what they mean.

**************************************

Calli: ...well, at least I've never been arrested for public intoxication and/or committing indecent exposure at a Mexican restaurant. Whenever I feel bad about myself, I guess that I'll always at least have that now.

Olm: He probably hasn't, either. You'd have to ask Zozo to be sure, as I was asleep at the time, but I very much suspect that he is lying. Do you really think something with a bounty like his on its head could just stroll into a multidimensional bar? Or, for that matter, that any even semi-mortal authority could hold him for six hours against his will?

Calli: ...Ok, fair. Especially since the blood in the milkshake machine makes it seem pretty unlikely that he somehow forgot his powers when the cops showed up.

**************************************

Olm: He'd be welcome to my uncle, but he's been dead long enough that I don't think he's coming back.

Calli: I thought you said that you didn't cross the line between hating your family and hating your family enough to subject them to Bill?

Olm: I said that I don't hate my sister enough to subject her to Bill. My uncle, on the other hand...he wasn't nearly as bright as his reputation might lead you to think, my uncle. If he had been, I imagine he would have been more familiar with the idea of self-fulfilling prophecy….

**************************************

Olm: ...He's perfectly capable of speaking normally, you know. The rhyming couplets are just to obfuscate and frustrate and confuse. Though I don't think I can blame all of these on him...'Upstairs' is not a concept that makes much sense in his domain, and the rhymes themselves acknowledge that he…no longer exists inside of space.

**************************************

Olm: And so a god is reduced to a mental patient. A sad old story, that one, but inevitable from time to time....

Calli: ...yeah, yeah, great, but what's this 'Puppet Hour' thing? Why is it in all-caps like that demented "show" Bill made for Ford? And why's the doctor apparently part of the Axolotl cult? This is all a bit unnerving and has a lot of story potential!

**************************************

[crabsxdragons]

[23:13]

warning: mature content

He wasn’t expecting a completely dark home when he opened the door this evening. But here he is, trying to make his way to the bedroom without hitting any furniture on the way. His baby is home, he knows it.

Sleeping perhaps?, he thought.

He couldn’t be more wrong-

The dancing silhouette in his bedroom says otherwise. The figure dances in the dark, a familiar silhouette created by the light streaming through the window. The person is completely oblivious to his presence, moving in a teasing manner, lost in whatever music is playing through the earphones.

He cleared his throat, adjusting his position as he leans on the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest.

As his gaze focuses more and more on the body, not on the movements it makes, the performer turns around-

A gasp breaks the silence.

“You’re back”, followed by a tiny voice, almost a whisper.

He licked his lips, making his way closer.

“Yes, darling”

“How long have you been standing there?”, the earphones are off, his gaze lands on the pair of ears getting redder by the second.

He pretended to think, “hm… long enough to say that you are an incredible dancer, not long enough to see the entire performance”

“You weren’t supposed to see that”, the pout that came with the statement made him laugh.

He moved closer, trapping his little dancer with his arms and the dresser.

“Oh but it’s a pleasure for me to see that, darling”, his whispered.

He licked his lips again, feeling thirsty out of nowhere. His eyes darts to the pair of soft lips in front of him, calling out his name.

“How was your day?”, he almost didn’t catch the question, too lost inside the thought of a certain pair of lips against his.

“Exponentially better after that private performance of yours”

“Goodness, I wish there was a way to make you forget you ever saw that”, he could sense the embarrassment with a hint of frustration.

He was doing a great job holding in the urge to claim the lips in front of him, until someone’s teeth started chewing on it-

-and he lost it.

Another gasp fills the room as their lips collide. Bodies flush against each other. His lips moves passionately. He is hungry- no, starving. Hands are all over the place, feeling every curve his little dancer has. He gives no mercy, no time to breathe. Why breathe in oxygen when this person is the air he breathes?

Feeling a gentle push on his chest, he pulls away slightly, breathing heavily.

“I- I need to breathe”, he responded with a smirk, followed by a kiss on the forehead.

“You should take a shower, it’s late”

He was amused at the attempt to distract him from what he wants, “only if you join me, love”

The pair of eyes glaring him at him sent him laughing, “don’t- no, please stop doing that”

“Do what? I’m not doing anything, darling”, he teased more.

“Just go shower already, I’ll wait for you in bed”, and another gentle push on his chest.

He place a kiss on the neck, whispering, “I’ll see you in bed, baby”

“-hopefully with nothing on”

note:

hi everyone! i am well aware that i have not posted anything in two years. i sincerely apologize for that, and i am apologizing in advance because i can not promise you that i will be posting regularly in the future. anyways, ya girl is a doctor now. i hope that could explain my absence (sorry). here’s a little something i wrote, because apparently i daydreamed a bit too hard and this scene has been stuck in my mind ever since. take care! please stay happy and healthy ✨

[captmickey]

PROMPT:

Setting is somewhere in Puerto Pollo. I love that place. You decide what's going on.

Lucas clung tightly to his dad’s hand as they walked the cobblestones of Puerto Pollo. With the way the sun was beaming down, he looked around the town, noting the liveliness as the townsfolk who were going about their day, the occasional chicken that were clucking about and the seagulls soaring above. 

Puerto Pollo was very different from Melee Island.

Turning a corner, his dad knocked on the door, hearing from the otherside a gruff ‘come on in’. He was usually brave about new places, but something about this man’s voice had him slightly nervous. Lucas felt his mother’s hand on his head, giving it a slight brush to grab his attention as he looked up at her.

“You have nothing to worry about, it’s just a barber shop.” Elaine reassured him. 

“I’m not worried.” Lucas said, trying to puff out his chest. “Just being… cautious of new places.”

“Caution is not such a bad idea with these three.” Guybrush said just quietly enough for Elaine to hear.

She chuckled as Guybrush opened the door and stepped inside the shop, where three men were tending to different things. One stood in the back of the room, cleaning various blades with a rag that could use a wash, another was sharpening some of the razors used to shave, though his back was turned to the Threepwood family as they walked in. But the last man, one that easily towered over his own dad, looked at them and smiled widely. He cleaned his hand on a towel and walked over to them, bellowing out a laugh.

“Well, well, well! If I live and breathe, Guybrush Threepwood!” The man greeted, slapping a strong hand against Guybrush’s back. “Good ta see ya, lad!”

“Hi Haggis.” Guybrush greeted, wincing slightly at the hand slap. “Good to see you too.”

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” The man cleaning the blade smirked, walking over to them. Upon closer inspection, Lucas noticed the man was sporting a patch eye and now wasn’t sure if to point out the pun about sore eyes.

But the one sharpening the blade in the back, he looked directly at Lucas, his expression not shifting. 

“I see you expanded the Threepwood Clan.” The shorter man said, Lucas realizing it was his gruff voice he heard earlier.

“Expanded?” Haggis raised a brow and looked over, spotting the small Threepwood. His smile widened as he lowered himself to be somewhat at eye level with him. “Ay! A wee Boybrush! What’s yer name, lad?”

Lucas let out a small yelp and hid further behind his dad’s legs, clinging tightly to the fabric as he felt a gentle hand on his head.

“It’s alright, kiddo. They’re friends.” Guybrush reassured him. “Remember the story about the gold statue?”

“Hopefully you told the story in a positive light.” The man with the eye patch chuckled.

He looked at the three men from behind, trying to be brave like he said he was. Glancing at his parents, he saw the reassurance from them, how Elaine with a smile mouthed ‘go on’ to him.

“L-Lucas…” he answered quietly. 

“Pleasure ta meet ya, Lucas. I’m Haggis. That there is Van Helgen and the quiet one there is Bill.” Haggis introduced. 

Lucas waved and blushed a little when he heard both his parents chuckle. 

“What brings ya three here?” Haggis asked, looking up at Guybrush.

“Well, kiddo here needs his first haircut.” Guybrush explained, ruffling Lucas’s hair slightly. “Figured who better than the three best barbers I know in the Caribbean?”

Haggis chuckled and stood back up properly. “Aye, I can see the lad could use a wee bit of a trim.”

“B-but I want to grow it out!” Lucas protested. “I want it to be like yours, dad!”

Van Helgen looked at Lucas, tilting his head before his good eye widened in understanding. He cleared his throat and kneeled down to be at eye level with him.

“Don’t you worry, we’re not going to trim too much. Just enough so it can grow to be healthy.” Van Helgen explained. “Besides, your father comes here from time to time to get his hair trimmed.”

“Aye, last time he fergot to visit, it was a rat's nest.” Haggis recalled.

“It wasn’t that bad! Just… very long.” Guybrush blushed.

“Too long.” Elaine muttered.

“It was longer than your mother’s that he constantly got it tangled.” Van Helgen whispered to Lucas, warranting a chuckle from the child.

They went over to the barber’s chair where Guybrush helped Lucas sit on it. Gently draping a cloth around him, he looked to be enveloped by the fabric with only his head peeking out of it. Lucas looked around nervously with how he was shifting slightly in his chair and looked over at his parents for help, especially when Haggis placed a strong hand on his shoulder and he let out a startled yelp with the chair being raised up one, two, three clicks.

“Mom? Dad?” He said in a scared voice.

“It’s fine, we’re right here.” Elaine said, going over to hold his hand. “It’s just a trim.”

“Lad’s never gotten a haircut?” Haggis asked.

Guybrush shook his head. He opened his mouth to begin explaining but was immediately halted by Bill as he harshly cleared his throat.

Lucas hated to admit it, but he felt nervous. More so than usual. He looked at his reflection, realizing just how small he was as Haggis leaned slightly on the chair and looked at the reflection as well, which, by extension, was to look directly at Lucas’s eyes. 

“First time’s always scary.” Haggis says. “But it’s nothin’ ta really be scared of, lad.”

“I can’t help it…” Lucas admitted.

“I know. And I know you want to keep yer hair’s length like your papa… but it can’t be helpful when playin’ with friends now, ey?”

He thought of all the games he played, how his bangs got in the way… his parents tried to tie it up, tried to use a bandana or a headband, but it would slip off after a while. Lucas frowned and shook his head.

“It’s not.” He admitted. “It’s… kinda annoying.”

Haggis smiled. “Yer papa said the same thing when we dealt with the rat’s nest.”

Lucas, at that, smiled. “Yeah?”

“Aye. Now, I’ll show you what I’m gonna do. Every step, so you can see it’s not that scary.” He promised, starting to move his hair and trying to show how it will look in the end. “Starting with… moving yer hair as such, trimming it this much and even keepin’ some of the length.”

“And if you’re startled and need a moment, just say the word.” Elaine added.

“The word being orange.” Guybrush joked, warranting an elbow from Haggis. But the two laughed.

Haggis shook his head and looked at Lucas. “So, ready for yer hair adventure, wee one?”

Lucas looked at his reflection, somehow able to see what Haggis had in mind and nodded with a shaky breath. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Atta lad.” Haggis smiled and moved to grab a comb and scissors.

As Haggis got to work, Lucas looked around the shop. Occasionally, his head being moved by the Scotsman to go back into place as he combed and trimmed while his parents stood back and chatted with Van Helgen and Bill, letting Haggis focus on his work. With slight boredom, he wiggled his feet from under the cloth, seeing the fabric move to and fro.

“Um… Haggis?” He spoke up.

“Aye, lad?”

“Why are there so many chickens on Puerto Pollo?” Lucas asked.

Haggis paused for a moment and let out a laugh. “Excellent question, but I believe the answer ta be why the island is called as such.”

“Hm?”

“Pollo means chicken, kiddo.” Guybrush answered with a smile.

“Oh!” Lucas’s eyes lit up. “So… so Port Chicken!”

“Somethin’ like it.” Haggis laughed, continuing to cut a few strands. 

“So were the chickens here first? Or the people?”

Haggis, once more, paused and glanced over at Elaine and Guybrush. “Curious one, isn’t he?”

“Just like Guybrush.” Van Helgen laughed.

“Boybrush.” Bill said, though whether he smiled or not was a mystery.

Haggis however laughed and continued to work.

“Well, what is it? Chicken or people?” Lucas asked.

“I believe it’s the chicken, sweetie.” Elaine answered for the barbers. “When I governed this island for a bit, I looked into it… was curious about it myself.”

“Ooh, learned something new!” Lucas smiled, now moving his feet with excitement.

More bits of gold fell off and eventually the session came to an end, Haggis ripped off the cloth and used a small brush to clean off any strands of hair from Lucas’s shoulders. Pleased with his work, Haggis stood back and let the child admire his own reflection.

“Whoa…!” Lucas examined slightly touching his newly trimmed hair. “It feels so much lighter!”

“A good trim will feel like that.” Haggis said. “And the bangs are nowhere near yer eyes now. I also kept some of the length, see?”

Lucas reached out and touched the back of his hair, smiling at how he could feel some of the length still. And with it, a small bow. He beamed and looked at the barber with absolute joy.

“You tied it!”

“Aye, I did. Been wantin’ to do a bow since yer papa’s wedding.”

“Thank you, Mister Haggis!” Lucas said gleefully.

“See? Not so bad.” Guybrush said, walking over as Elaine offered to pay in thanks for their services. “Looking really sharp.”

“Yeah!” He looked back at his reflection, smiling. The place was nice, the people were even nicer. Lucas touched a bit more of his bangs, understanding now why his dad referred to the Barber Quartet as good people. “Dad? I like Puerto Pollo.”

[verai-marcel]

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 16 of ?)

Summary, Notes, Tags, & Part 1 are here.

Act I - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Act II - Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

AO3 Link is here, my dear.

Word Count: 4275

————————————

Act II, Chapter 4 - The Portal

The next morning, Karlach was sitting at the campfire, waiting very impatiently for you to wake up.

“C’mon, c’mon! Let’s go see if Dammon can fix up my engine!”

You smiled at her. She was like a kid in her excitement. Getting up and throwing on your day clothes, you left camp in a rush, pulling on your gloves as you went.

“Why do you always wear those gloves outside of camp?” she asked.

You shrugged. “Habit.”

Karlach looked at you, tipping her head to get you to continue. You ignored her.

“Alright. Keep your secrets.”

“I will, thank you,” you said with a grin.

Dammon was waving to the two of you as you arrived at the forge. He explained what he had done, and how Karlach needed to install the piece.

You watched with academic interest as she opened up her chest and installed the insulating chamber to her heart engine.

“Did… did it work?” she asked as she stared at her hands.

“Only one way to find out.” Dammon held up a hand. “Go on. Give us your hand.”

Tentatively, Karlach reached out to him. Slowly, she placed her palm against his.

He didn’t burn. He only smiled at her. “Damn. I’m good. And you… you’re very touchable.”

You held back a snicker.

Karlach looked at you. “I can touch people again!” Her face was lit up like a summer sky, her happiness filling you with so much joy that it overflowed your heart. Unable to help yourself, you leapt up and gave her a big hug.

Laughing and squealing with cheer, she swung you around a few times, easily holding you up like you weighed as much as a feather.

“I can’t wait to hug everyone!” she cried out.

“Wait,” Dammon said, his face turning serious. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

***

Walking back to camp, you glanced over at Karlach, who was clearly processing Dammon’s news. You didn’t know what else to do, other than hold her hand the whole way back. You had your gloves on so you couldn’t pry into her emotions, but you could tell from her expression that she was quickly digesting it and moving on.

I’m not sure that’s healthy for her emotionally, but maybe she’s handling it better than I would have.

“Who are you going to hug first?” you asked, hopefully getting her mind off of her future for the time being.

“I don’t know…” She tapped her chin. “Although it’d be real funny if I hugged Lae’zel first!”

As the two of you entered camp, hand in hand, you noted everyone’s reaction.

Gale did a comically exaggerated double take. Really? He’s such a dork sometimes.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. Those two are more alike than they realize.

Astarion glanced at your joined hands and smirked. Oh, I bet he’s got loads of quips in his head right now.

And Wyll smiled and immediately came up to the two of you, holding out his arms. You let go of Karlach and not so subtly pushed her towards him.

He picked her up and held her tightly. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.”

Karlach and Wyll seemed like they were in their own world, so you walked past them quietly to get breakfast made. As they finally joined everyone at the campfire, she told everyone about her heart and her future choices.

“But we’ll worry about that when the time comes,” she said when she saw the concerned looks on some of their faces. “For now, let’s figure out what’s goin’ on with these tadpoles in our heads. Then I can go home.”

They planned to head to a mausoleum in the old ruined town south of the inn called Reithwin town. You bundled up some snacks for them and wished them luck. 

***

A little past midday, you saw a familiar face. 

“Arabella?” 

You recalled the little tiefling girl from the party, where her parents had been coddling her and profusely thanking the group for rescuing her. The fact that she was here alone did not bode well. 

The base of your spine tingled. It felt cold. 

Oh no. This isn't good. 

She told you that the others had saved her from the shadow cursed while she was looking for her parents. They had told her they would look for them. 

You glanced up at Withers, who subtly shook his head. 

Godsdammit.

“Well, while you wait for them, why don't you come help me with some chores?”

She shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”

***

Arabella soon grew bored of helping with your chores, as most children do, and split her time between playing with the animals and bothering Withers with inane questions. You eventually took her to the inn to play with the other tiefling children while you helped out around the building. 

After a few hours, you saw the party return, Halsin leading with an old, battered lute in hand. He headed straight for the room where the Flaming Fist were staying. He looked determined, an elf on a mission.

You fell in step with the others and followed him, wanting to see what had gotten the usually calm archdruid into such a state.

Halsin held out the lute to the semi-conscious man on the bed, talking softly with him. The man didn’t seem to respond, and even strumming a few strings didn’t do much beyond getting his focus for a few brief moments before he fell into delirium once more.

What if…

You quietly backed away from the group and went to the bar.

“Alfira!”

She turned to you. “Yes, what is it?”

“Could you come help us? We need someone who can play a lute.”

She grinned. “Well, I might know someone.” 

Returning to Halsin with the bard in tow, you tapped him on the arm and gestured towards Alfira. “Can she play?”

He nodded and smiled at you. “Great idea.” Handing the lute over to the tiefling, he stepped back and allowed her to stand beside the bed. After listening to his broken song for a few minutes, she began to play the same song on the lute.

You watched as the man, who you learned was named Art Cullagh, slowly came back to the present, his fragmented mind reconnecting the dots of reality with each strum of the lute. When he sat up, looking around at everyone with clarity in his gaze, Alfira handed back the lute to him and wished him well before excusing herself.

“Thank you,” you called out to her as she left.

“Any time,” she replied as she smiled at you.

You turned back to the conversation before you, learning about the next steps in Halsin’s quest to save Thaniel.

“A portal?”

Halsin nodded. He turned to everyone. “Whenever you are all ready to help, I can summon a portal and get Thaniel out of the Shadowfell. But I’ll need your help to guard it. If the enemy comes and shatters the portal before I return…”

He didn’t need to elaborate. Everyone nodded.

As they all began to head out of the building and back to camp, you spoke up. I have to confirm, even though I'm pretty sure Withers was right. “Did… did you find Arabella’s parents?”

When all of their faces fell, you knew they had. And it wasn’t good.

“No!”

You turned around to see that Arabella had been eavesdropping.

Dammit, I thought she was with the other children.

She looked to be on the verge of tears. “I saw you all, so I came to ask… But… it can’t be. No! I refuse to believe it!” Taking off in a sprint, she left the building faster than you could speak up.

Chasing after her, you saw her taking the path back to camp. A bit relieved, you followed her, keeping her in sight, making sure that she made it back safely. The rest of the party followed at a more sedate pace.

Reaching the campsite, you saw that the girl was sitting with her arms around her knees, staring out at the water next to Withers. Looking at his stone-faced expression, you only shared a nod before turning away, letting her process the news. 

You went about your usual chores, mending and cleaning while letting the stew pot do its thing, but in the back of your mind, you wondered if you could repeat your off-the-cuff cooking cantrip that you had accidentally sang in the Grymforge. While part of you enjoyed letting the food slowly simmer and accumulate its flavor, you knew that the others were probably hungry.

Dropping off the pile of armor and clothes to be cleaned next to your bedroll, you took off your gloves and went up to the pot and stared at it.

Alright, here goes.

Your hands hovered over the simmering water as you hummed, trying to remember exactly what you had done last time. Knowing that it wasn’t quite right, you still managed to make something happen as greenish-yellow lines sprung from your fingers, and you weaved a spell with your voice.

Dropping the magical web down onto the pot, you were surprised to suddenly see the simmering water go eerily still.

You peered into the pot curiously.

A tingle shot through your spine, and you reared your head back just as a fountain of stew shot from the pot, steaming and boiling in the air before landing straight back in, liquid splashing over the sides and scalding your hands. You hissed in pain.

Shadowheart called your name as she rushed over. Taking your hands, she cast a light heal on you.

“Careful, that nearly hit you in the face,” she said, taking a handkerchief and wiping the stew off your skin.

You smiled at her, a bit embarrassed at how badly your spell had backfired. “I know. Thank you.” You glanced over at your stew. “It… might be done?”

It smelled good. You grabbed the ladle from where it had landed on the ground, cleaned it with magic, and tasted the stew. “Yup, it’s done.”

“A dangerous way to make dinner faster,” Gale commented. “But effective nonetheless.”

“You could market that as dinner and a show,” Wyll joked.

Rolling your eyes, you started to serve up the meal.

Afterward, everyone began to prepare for the next day. Sharpening weapons, sparring with each other, reading up on spells… You finished with everyone’s clothes and set them by their tents as usual before heading over to Halsin, who was staring out across the water, deep in thought. You were worried for him most of all.

“Halsin,” you said quietly, reaching up to touch his arm. He felt determined, unshakeable as a mighty tree. Yet there was a hint of fear, but it didn’t seem to be for him. “How are you feeling?”

He turned to you, a gentle smile on his features. “I won't lie, I am a bit nervous. Traveling into the Shadowfell is no easy task. I’ve studied for years, beseeching the Oak Father for his blessing. I pray that we will have his favor come morning.”

You nodded. “I’m hoping that everything goes smoothly. Who will go with you?”

“I must go alone.”

You gasped. “What? Why?”

“The portal is maintained with my power, and the more people that go into it, the more it will drain me. If I’m to have a chance at finding Thaniel and bring him home, I need to go in with as much strength as possible.”

You nodded. That made sense. “So everyone else will be defending the portal?”

“Yes. The moment it opens, the shadow-cursed will swarm it, trying to destroy it. If they succeed…” 

He didn’t need to say more. You reached for his hand and held it tight. “I trust our friends. They’ll make sure you come back safely.” You smiled. “And I’ll make sure there’s a nice meal waiting for you when you return.”

He smiled back. “That’s more than enough incentive to return.” Halsin let go of your hand and held his arms out for a hug, and you gladly let him wrap his big arms around you.

“You’re stronger than you know,” he murmured.

You pulled back, observing the knowing look in his gaze. “What do you know that I don’t?”

He grinned. “There’s a power inside of you, older than even me, and I’m more than three centuries old. I can’t quite place it, but it’s there, within you. You just need to learn how to harness it.”

Frowning, you instinctively reached for your back, but quickly pretended to scratch your shoulder instead. “If you say so,” you said, putting your hands in your lap and wringing them together. He must be sensing something else, not actual power. I’ve never done anything other than cantrips.

He patted you on the head, and you felt a fondness, like a big brother ruffling your hair. “One day, little witch. You’ll find your magic.”

***

Returning to camp, you rolled Halsin’s words around in your head, but they made zero sense. 

An old power? Inside me? Maybe he’s sensing the seal my mother placed on me. There’s nothing else it could be.

You tried to put together the pieces of knowledge that you knew from what your mother had told you. You had an eladrin ancestor somewhere in the past, it was why your ears were a bit pointy. An eclectic form of magic, based solely on song, was what you had learned from your mother, who had learned it from hers, and so on and so forth, passed down through the generations.

From your father, you had learned a bit about the different planes. Baator, Shadowfell, Feywild, the Astral Sea, and their denizens. You had never really thought about why your father, so learned in these things, was living in a small village in the middle of nowhere, but you were thankful for the knowledge. If not for his random lessons while you were growing up, you would have never known about the githyanki, devils, demons, pixies, and other extraplanar beings.

It has to be the seal. It must be some kind of ancient spell she put on me. But for what purpose? Other than giving me weird premonitions.

Perhaps it was a protection spell? It had certainly saved you from bodily injury a few times at this point.

You had been in your head so thoroughly that you had walked past your bedroll and towards the other side of camp, your foot nearly stepping off the shoreline and into the murky water. You stepped backwards and felt a presence at your back.

“Still can’t sense a damn thing, can you?”

You turned to see Astarion smirking at you.

Godsdammit, can’t you come talk to me like a normal person? “Can I help you?”

“You’ve already helped me plenty, my dear,” he said. He pulled out his dagger, gesturing towards yours on your belt. “I’m returning the favor.”

You sighed. “Alright. Go easy on me.”

Pulling out your dagger, you attacked, a clumsy lunge, a graceless swing. For five minutes, he effortlessly deflected every one of your strikes.

Then he began to hum.

Confused, you continued to attack. There was no power in his song, but somehow, he seemed to be even more nimble as he dodged and spun away from your flimsy attempts to stab him.

“Your turn,” he finally said.

“Huh?”

“Hum something while you attack.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Just indulge me.”

Sighing, you thought of a faster tempo song and began to hum. Focusing on the song while striking at him over and over, you stopped thinking, and started to just act and react on instinct. Like the flow of a melody, you slashed, parried, jabbed, and finally, felt like you had made progress when you grabbed Astarion’s wrist, twisted his arm, and dipped in close, pointing your blade at his throat.

“Not bad,” he said, beads of sweat slowly dripping down his forehead. 

Then you felt a tapping on your belly. You looked down to see his other hand, wielding a second, shorter dagger, pointed at your gut.

“But I would have eviscerated you before you got this close.” He tapped the flat edge of the dagger against your belt.

Sighing in defeat, you stepped away from him and put your dagger back into its sheath. “Well, at least I got closer.”

“Did music help?”

You nodded. “Yes. I… I hadn’t thought of that. It was like I stopped overthinking about my next move and just reacted.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, patting your head. You felt that fondness, but it was different from what you had felt with Halsin. This one seemed like…

No. There’s no way.

You pulled away, tired of getting mixed messages. “Thank you for helping me,” you said quietly as you glanced back at your bedroll. “I’d better get some sleep.” You started to turn away.

“Wait.”

You turned back to him. “Yes?”

“I…” He paused for a moment. “Tomorrow morning. We’ll be helping with this”—he gestured dismissively—“portal thing.”

“I heard.”

“So…” He looked up at you and then looked away, clearing his throat. “Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be hungry when I return.”

You smiled. You miscommunicating idiot. “I’ll keep that in mind.” On a whim, you stepped up to him and patted him on the head, the same way he did to you. “Stay safe, kitty cat.”

He caught your hand and held it close to his chest. His gaze bore into you, two scarlet irises focused fully on you. “You do the same, kitten.”

Thrown off by his intensity, you blinked and backed away, pulling your hand gently from his grasp and smiling to hide your sudden nerves. “Of course. Good night.”

“Sweet dreams, darling,” he said, but you were already heading towards your bedroll.

I’m not running away. I’m not.

***

The next morning, everyone headed off to a small rock outcropping that was just outside of Isobel’s barrier. You went to the inn to help out with laundry and potion making, since a shipment of goods had just arrived, and many of the guards had been injured to get the shipment here.

As the day progressed, you could tell something was wrong. The tingling at the base of your spine was growing stronger with every passing minute. In the past, a tingling would just make your mind churn with anxiety, and you usually calmed down after distracting yourself with some chores. That was before you began having these stronger inklings, and their strength kept increasing as you spent more time with your companions.

This time, the feeling would not go away, even after peeling all of the potatoes in the galley.

You stepped out of the Last Light Inn, your gaze turning north towards the spot where Halsin had opened the portal. You weren’t sure how things were going, but your heart kept telling you to go have a look.

Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be hungry when I return.

You knew it was his roundabout way of telling you to stay safe and hidden away.

Your seal kept tingling. Fine, I’ll just go take a peek.

As you made your way over to the edge of the shield, your heart began to drop. Shadows and the shadow-cursed were swarming a shining portal, covered in crackling lightning. And in front of the portal, the party was fighting desperately, defending it to the last. 

You could tell that the spellcasters were down to only cantrips, their power weakening as they grew exhausted. The fighters kept swinging their weapons, but the sheer number of enemies was forcing them back, step by step.

You didn’t see Astarion, and started to peer around, looking for him. It wasn’t until Karlach made a big shove, forcing two shadow-cursed away from her, that you could see a bit beyond. On the ground in the front of the portal, you saw one pale elf, clutching his side.

Your feet began to move before your mind caught up. As soon as you left the safety of the shield, you could feel the shadow curse filling your lungs, but you didn’t care. You had to get to the group.

You had to get to him.

Claws of darkness scratched you as you passed, lines of crimson leaking into your clothes as you took cut after cut. But you pushed through and to everyone’s surprise, made it to the top of the rock overlook.

“What are you doing here?” Karlach yelled as she grabbed your arm and practically tossed you behind her.

You paid her no mind. Immediately kneeling down where Astarion lay, you pulled up your sleeve, exposing one of the deeper cuts on your arm, and forced it into his mouth.

“Drink, dammit,” you cried.

The sounds of the battle behind you became muted as you watched his eyelids flutter. His lips moved, and then through sheer instinct, he latched onto your wound and began to drink. You winced at the sharp pain of his fangs penetrating your skin, the pull of blood into his mouth. But after half a minute, he let you go and opened his eyes.

“You idiot,” he rasped as he sat up. He looked terrible, wounds on every limb, claw marks raking his chest.

“I know,” you replied, and slowly stood up, turning to the shadows.

In the back of your mind, you had a thought.

Closing your eyes, diving into your memories, you recalled that specific song from your mother, the one she had only taught you phonetically. A melody to shield against the long cold nights, a hymn that traveled beyond Evermeet, beyond the Trackless Sea.

It was a song you had sung a thousand times, and nothing had ever happened. But you felt that maybe, just maybe, something would happen if you just sang it one more time.

What if it doesn't work? It's never done anything before. 

But it has to. I need it to work.

Taking a deep breath, you imagined a barrier, much like the silvery shield of Isobel, and began to sing.

As if the world suddenly paused, the sounds of battle quieted. You weren’t sure if it was because you were so focused on your song, but it sounded as if the hordes of the undead were moving farther and farther away.

You opened your eyes. A golden aura was before you, pushing back the darkness, giving the others a chance to breathe as the shadow creatures slammed against the shield. With one particularly strong hit, you felt one of your cuts bloom in pain, a burning slice into your skin, and you gasped in agony.

The shield crackled and began to fade. 

Oh shit. 

Ignoring the pain, you sang, and sang, and sang, until the barrier grew strong and bright once more. Until your voice was hoarse and your throat was raw. Until you felt like you were being flayed alive with each strike, the shield taking its power directly from your body. Your cuts bled, the searing pain intensifying with each passing lyric. But you would not, could not stop your song. It flowed out of you like water over a cliff, unstoppable.

Until finally from behind you, the portal crackled and shattered. You felt a familiar presence behind you.

“Well done,” Halsin said.

Smiling, you ended the song on a single triumphant note.

The shadow cursed had disappeared, and vestiges of the enemy lay around a golden perimeter that slowly faded as the barrier created by your song faded away. You felt exhausted, but also elated. You had helped. 

The others turned to you, and they all immediately gave you a strange look.

“What?” you croaked.

Astarion tipped his head towards your reflection in the water. “Take a look at yourself.”

You walked to the edge of the water and gasped. Your ears had grown pointier. Your skin had become tawny brown, and your hair had turned into waves of auburn red, streaked with strands of gold and orange. And your eyes, gods, they glowed like the setting sun. You looked as if the whole of the autumn season had manifested in you.

As your magic faded, you began to look like yourself again, but the image was burned into your memory.

The last memory of your mother as she sang this exact song, her form looking exactly like one of the legends she had told you as a child: The autumn form of the fey eladrin, the folk from the feywilds who spoke and sang in Sylvan, the predecessor of Elvish. 

You turned back to the others. There were smiles all around, but you could tell they were definitely tired. Shadowheart pulled out the last arcane potion from her belt and quickly drank it. 

“Vos cura!”

A blue glow suffused the area around the group, and everyone felt their wounds heal somewhat.

Except for you. You felt nothing except for Astarion’s bite mark heal on your arm. Curious.

“Let’s head back to camp,�� Gale announced, hovering next to Shadowheart, his eyes assessing her condition. “We could all use a rest.”

The others began to walk away with Halsin, who was carrying the boy in his arms. Only Astarion remained by your side, guarding you. He held out his arm to you, as if he was escorting you to a ball.

You smiled. It was a kind gesture, and though you knew he did it to be playful, you also knew that he wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t care.

You reached out for him.

Then your world tilted.

And everything went dark.

-------------------------

Chapter End Notes: I have been waiting and WAITING to post this chapter, I’ve had the portal portion written since chapter three, just infilling the story to get to this point. I’m so happy to finally share this chapter with you. I hope it was worth the wait! Let me know what you think in the comments!

And let me know if you want to be on the tag list so you get notified of the next chapter release! (I usually post on Thursday nights, but I may be delayed here and there because of that darn real life thing getting in the way)

Tag List: @numblytemporary @xalphafox @avitute @stormyjane7

[runningfrom2am]

achilles heel - II: I Figured She Was His Sarah

summary:

Grace is the very opposite of her brother in every way. when she finally moves onto campus at UNC Chapel Hill, she feels like she gets to be her own person, make her own friends, and hopefully start a promising career in the museum industry, and maybe, one day, get married to her high school sweetheart and live the American dream for herself. Rafe Cameron however, upon their very first meeting, throws a wrench in her very perfect plan.

tags/warnings:

rafe cameron x fem!oc, rafe is giving very much homewrecker, fanon!rafe (kinda), college!au, friends to lovers, slow-burn (maybe?), minimal oc description, drug and alcohol use, mostly unedited, (these tags are not exhaustive, lmk if i should add anything!)

wc: 1.9k

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January 5th, 2019

Rafe eyes the ball flying towards him from up above, stepping back a few paces and raising his leg, and lowering it quickly to cushion its fall and keep it from flying out of his control, giving it a gentle tap a few feet away so he can wind up for his shot. He nails it, and it lands right against the top left corner of the net in front of him.

He smiles in satisfaction with himself, placing his hands on his hips as he steps off to the sidelines to grab some water while his coach spouts off at the next player in line. He watches for a minute or so before his eyes drift upwards in the indoor field, landing on the looping track on the next level up.

The indoor fields at UNC are honestly impressive- and actually, were a huge motivator for Rafe to attend. Besides the fact that his dad would have had a conniption at the mere mention of him going anywhere else. Overlooking the indoor soccer field is a full-size running track, circling over top with a glass barrier. From up above you have a great view of whatever's going on down below, and lucky for Rafe, on this day, he has a great view of Grace walking laps around the track, right along the railing.

She didn't even realize her brother would be practicing at the same time she decided to take a study break and stretch her legs, but she's always enjoyed watching his sports games the same way Ben used to attend all her dance and violin recitals when they were growing up. It was a pleasant surprise to be able to look down and watch him practice while she listened to her music and got a good healthy break from her stuffy dorm room.

"Cameron- stop drooling over the track girls and get back out here." His coach calls him, pulling him out of his mind as he watched her walk about halfway around the track without even noticing a moment had passed. He's pretty sure she didn't look down for even a moment. Rafe promptly throws his water bottle back into his gym bag on the ground, jogging back over to join the next drill. Sprints- everyone's favorite.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･

"So, you into track? Or..." Rafe says, joining Grace's side as she continued to walk even when their practice was over.

"Huh?" She pulls out her headphone, looking over at him with a smile. "Oh! You're Ben's friend. I'm so sorry- you'll have to remind me of your name...?"

"It's- uh, my name is Rafe." He's taken aback by her response- he's never had someone forget his name before. "I was just wondering if you were into track or something." He repeats.

"Right, yes! Rafe. Sorry, I'm not the best with names," She explains, attempting to ease his mind. She understood it was rude to forget names, but honestly, his is a little bit obscure so how could she have remembered when she's only heard it once before? "And no, not really into track." Grace laughs slightly, shaking her head and looking down. "I just wanted to stretch my legs. My room is just so cramped."

"Ah, gotcha." Rafe nods, his duffle slung over his shoulder with all his soccer gear thrown inside hastily.

"I can't imagine it's as bad as the frat." She jokes.

Rafe laughs at that. "Yeah, no way. It's honestly the worst."

"Ben loves it, though. Just bros being dudes, all sharing a house." She shrugs. "Sounds like my own personal version of hell, that might just be me though."

"Well, that explains why I've never seen you there," Rafe replies.

Grace nods, reaching up and tightening her ponytail as it started to drop down the back of her head. "I just can't even imagine the smell."

"It's pretty bad." He agrees, chuckling at that as he shakes his head, his eyes trained firmly on the side of her face since she was no longer looking at him.

"What about your boyfriend? He live on campus too?" Rafe asks, trying not to sound like he's prying.

Grace nods again, clearly not reading into it. "Yeah, he lives a couple floors below me."

"Would I know him?"

"Probably not- unless you know a lot of the engineering kids. From the impression I get, they tend to keep within their own group." She explains. "He's also in his third year now, so that affects things too."

Grace has always been a little insecure around Nate's friends, more so now that she's in the same school. They're all just so intimidatingly smart- and she knows she's smart too, but engineering students have this annoying habit of looking down on other majors. Especially art- so they immediately treat her accordingly; as if she's an idiot.

"I definitely don't know any engineering students," Rafe says. "What's his name?"

"Nate- Nathan." She corrects herself quickly, remembering he doesn't like strangers calling him by his nickname.

"Cool." Rafe nods, and he's pained by the few moments of silence that follow.

"What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?" Grace asks, which shocks him. She didn't seem super conversational before, or really interested in him personally. "Or boyfriend, I realize I don't know you well enough to make that assumption.

"No, uh, no girlfriend." He replies, brushing past her second comment. "Relationships have never really been my thing."

"Fair enough." Grace nods. "I mean, fits into what little I know about Ben's teammates."

"Gee, thanks."

"That's not a bad thing!" Grace backtracks quickly. "Sorry, Rafe, I feel like I've made a shitty first impression." She admits, rubbing her forehead.

Rafe smiles a little at that, shaking his head. "No, you're fine." He promises her. He's honestly met handfuls of girls who have probably made way worse first impressions and he's still gone home with them anyways, but there's something about Grace that had her on his mind all day regardless.

"I'm glad you feel that way since we've got a whole semester of seeing each other twice a week ahead of us." Grace laughs.

"What do you plan on doing with a history degree, anyways?" He asks her.

"I'm thinking I want to be a museum curator. I've just always been so fascinated with all that stuff." Grace explains, shrugging her shoulders just slightly.

"That's cool- I never considered that like, people have to do that as a job." Rafe muses.

"Well, what's your plan then? With history?"

Rafe doesn't honestly have an answer. "Uh, I don't know. I just feel like the courses would be really interesting. 120 Is kind of a trial run for me."

"Well, I hope you like it! Last semester my history courses were the highlights. I hated my requirements." She laughs. "I don't understand why I had to take a science for a Bachelor of Arts degree, but at least it's done."

"Ugh." Rafe groans. "Maybe I don't want to take history then."

"Then you definitely don't want to take business- it's a surprising amount of math, and communications is such a drag." Grace explains, stopping off the track near the exit where she placed her backpack.

"Uh, do you want me to walk you back to your dorm?" Rafe offers, following behind her like a lost puppy, trying not to stare as she bends over to grab her bag, pulling her water bottle out.

She turns and throws her bag over her shoulder, taking a sip of water. "No! No, you don't need to do that. Thank you, though."

Grace smiles at him, and he just nods. "I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early?" She asks, and Rafe takes this as his cue to leave her be.

"Yeah, uh, yeah. I'll see you then." He replies, watching keenly as she waves and turns to leave. "Hey, Grace?"

"Hm?" She turns, slowing her pace as she walks backward.

"Maybe I could grab your number? I feel like if I get around to doing the readings tonight I may have some questions and I think you could clear those up." Rafe asks. Not his smoothest attempt at getting a girl's number, asking her to help him with homework, but at least it seemed relevant and not weird.

Grace couldn't hide her disappointment at this, but she tried to keep her smile. Of course, her brother's friend would also want help with homework. "Sure, ask Ben for it." She replies, pushing open the door to the stairs and promptly leaving him behind as it slams behind her.

Rafe sighs, dropping his shoulders. He knows Ben won't give it to him if he even decided to ask. There goes his shot, which for once, he wasn't sure he even had. He sulks to himself as he walks out of the building, unable to stop himself from glancing down the tree-lined road heading in the direction of the dorms. He sees Grace making her way down the road just as he gets on his dirt bike, watching her turn a corner and leave his line of sight behind a patch of trees.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･

"Rafe- hey, buddy, are you gonna help us prep for the opener this weekend?" His lifelong friend, Kelce, asks him as he walks in their front door.

"Another one?" Rafe sighs, throwing his bag down on the table.

"Well, duh, we had one last semester. We have to get back into the routine after Christmas break." Kelce explains, hardly looking back from his video games on their obnoxiously large TV.

"Okay, then yeah, I guess so." Rafe shrugs, striding over and falling back onto the couch next to him. "Who are we inviting?"

"Anyone. Everyone who will pay to get in- also the sorority girls." Kelce answers.

"Gotcha. They're annoying as hell." Rafe admits. He thought he'd be all over the idea of sorority girls- pretty girls who are nice enough to do charity events twice a week, but smart enough to maintain good enough grades to stay there. Surprisingly to him, he kind of dreads having to be around all of them at once.

His friend laughs, shaking his head. "True. They're hot though. That's what matters." Kelce drops his controller when the game over screen pops up, sighing and leaning back on the couch cushions. "Want to do a booze run with me tonight?"

"Uh, I mean I guess so. I've got some readings to do tonight so I probably should get that done first." Rafe agrees, mindlessly scrolling on his phone.

"Woah-" Kelce laughs, "You're doing readings now? Since when do you care?"

"I don't. Not really. I mean, it might be nice to actually understand what's going on." Rafe shrugs, not pulling his eyes from the screen in front of him.

"I mean, yeah? I guess so." Kelce agrees, eyeing his friend skeptically.

"Did you know Ben has a sister?" Rafe says, catching his friend off guard.

"I mean, yeah, he's mentioned her once or twice."

"She's in our class. They're straight up twins, I didn't even know he had a sister until yesterday."

"Yeah because your head is always so far up your own ass." Kelce laughs. "To be fair I didn't know shit about her. Or that he had a twin. I figured she was his Sarah, like, probably hated her guts so I never bothered to ask her name or anything."

"Yeah... true. It's Grace, though, if you wanted to know." Rafe replies flatly, shoving his phone in his pocket and standing up, grabbing his bag as Kelce picks up the controller again. "Hey- do you think we could ask the team if we should invite the engineering kids this weekend? I've heard they party pretty hard."

"Yeah, we'll ask. Can't see why they'd say no to more people."

Rafe nods even though his friend can't see him, and stalks up the stairs and towards his room. He sees no harm in having just a quick nap before starting the readings.

taglist: @madelynie @slut4drudy (message me or reply to this to be added!)

[konigsblog]

COD characters (men or women is fine) w/ a reader who has an eating disorder? I’m not trying to romanticize it btw, I have an eating disorder and I kinda need comfort about it. Thank you! <3

(I also love ur writing!)

EACH EACH 141 MEMBER WOULD REACT TO AN EATING DISORDER...

WARNINGS: mentions of eating disorder and the symptoms. this is for comfort, and not to romanticize it. gn!reader. mentions of bmi being <18.5 to describe someone being underweight.

a/n; i mentioned different eating disorders for each character (excluding price) since i know that anorexia isn't the only eating disorder, and if anyone wants a different eating disorder to be talked about. THANK YOU ALSO!! i'm glad you're enjoying my posts, and i hope you manage to get better, or hopefully this comforts you. 🫶

eating disorder hotline - if you need someone to talk to. <3

༉‧₊˚. PRICE (no specific eating disorder mentioned)

i view price as a very fatherly type of man, something about him seems comforting. he'll encourage you into recovery, but won't force it apon you as he realises that could make it worse for your mental sake. of course he wants you physically healthy, but he has to think about your mental health and sudden body changes could affect you.

sitting in his car for some privacy, pulling you onto his lap while he sits in the drivers seat. his hands massage your scalp, covering the crown of your head with his large, calloused hand and pushing it into his warm chest. he worries for your sake and decides to keep you off missions to not put any stress on your body.

༉‧₊˚. SOAP (bulimia)

johnny knows you've been struggling with an eating disorder. how you excuse yourself to the bathroom 10 minutes after eating, chugging water. he also notices your jaw, how it's swollen, your lips puffy and how you seem more exhausted after standing up. john attempts to help you, he's not educated on eating disorders fully so he does some research to figure out the best way to help you.

it's through comfort. any foods that you feel comfortable with, he'll eat with you, even if it's something he hates. johnny's hearts breaks when he see's you getting anxious, the minutes passing and the opportunity to throw up slowly fading away as you begin digesting it. if you use exercise to substitute, he'd slowly decrease the hours. either by watching a movie with you or entertaining you with something, anything to keep you from overexercising yourself.

༉‧₊˚. GAZ (anorexia with a bmi less than 18.5)

he notices how you begin limiting your food intake. it starts off with removing a few pieces, before he see's you limiting more and more, explaining that you'd already ate, or felt too sick to finish your meal. he's worried, he knows that you're struggling, he can see how tired you are; your iron levels dropping, fainting and getting dizzy when you stand up, hair loss and weightloss.

or how your clothes look more baggy on your figure, and your bones becoming more visible. it scares him, and he's worried for your safety. eventually, he begins telling price who takes you off missions 'til you're well enough, he doesn't want you passing out on the field. gaz helps you with encouragement, comforting you whilst you eat something you'd considered a fear food. he'll do whatever it takes to help you, anything.

༉‧₊˚. SIMON (binge eating disorder)

simon worries when he see's you. your face swollen from overeating, and how you push yourself further during training and sparring to compensate for the calories you'd eaten. soon enough, he confronts you. his handa wandering through your hair as he asks the question. simon is pretty blunt, he's openly asking as he's scared incase you rupture your stomach.

he helps you with recovery, making sure you're eating enough and not too little as he realises that results in a binge. he works on your recovery before working on your health, talking to you every day about anything that's on your mind. he won't pressure you to lose weight, but will comfort you whenever you look in the mirror, seeing yourself and feeling insecure. simon doesn't want you overexercising or pushing yourself to compensate, but he makes sure that you get out that mindset whilst he helps your eating habits.

[anomymoussoapbar]

hey, I saw one of your posts and your account and said you wanted to learn more about proship, right? (Sorry I can be a lil overthinker at times) I can explain my own causes if that can help you learn another perspective. THIS IS GONNA BE LONG SO PLEASE BE PATIENT.

First off, I am mostly a darkshipper! darkshippers ship the illegal stuff, like incest and you know all that. I am myself a darkshipper mostly. I ship things like "stalker x victim", "yand3re", "obsessive dynamics" and all that stuff similar. I DONT ship the illegal incest/ age gaps but Instead I prefer to go with the illegal toxic dynamics!

Now as to WHY I am a darkshipper and why I use this KIND OF FICTION to 'cope' comes from a past experience of mine. Not gonna go into detail, but I used to be very obsessive and have unhealthy attachments! They weren't good at all! I even had harmful intrusive thoughts because I would get jealous and live In a constant fantasy of "yandere wannabe" (Lol- I was 11 at that time ok💀) Which almost led me to end up harming others irl! (Hopefully I never did) and Now, I am out of that phase, I went to therapy for a while but then my mom got me outta there for idk why, which is why after i finished therapy, I wanted to manage my same intruisve thoughts and urges as much as i could! which is what led me to discover proshipping! (Or darkshipping specifically)

I project myself onto my dynamics and characters, so i can relieve myself when im feeling stressed or have a strong urge to go back to that horrible phase of my life and not care about anything else (to be short, i am impulsive. Also, ive also tried things like writing and drawing but they dont help as much)

Shipping these kind of fucked up dynamics GENIUNELY GENIUNELY helped me figure out the severity of it and gave me more control and the common sense to not do those things irl. Since I am now taking out the intrusive and impulsiveness outta me in fiction and not real life, I am not harming anyone! Nor do I truly wish to. My preteen years were f'ed up but I am better now and darkshipping has helped me through that. I don't condone abuse nor toxicity irl, and I NEVER WILL, since I am now aware of how grave the situations are if you take it out of fiction and put it in a real life setting.

The main reason for darkshipping is to relieve myself in fiction without worry I am harming others (because it's fiction) whlist knowing the severity of the ships if they were in in real life. As a proshipper (someone who's anti-harassment and supports problematic media, pairings, or are laid-back about it), most of us go by this saying: "ship and let ship". Also, we KNOW fiction AFFECTS reality, it can and it will, but not on a 1:1 scale (meaning it only affects reality when the shipper doesn't have the common sense to differentiate the two or if it's a kid, who's brain hasn't developed yet)

I WILL always keep my ships in fiction, and I am no longer feeling as impulsive as I did all those years ago, because darkshipping for some reason helped me figure out a way, which was projecting onto characters as well as exploring dark dynamics for fun!

Each Proshippers/darkshippers/comshipper's stories are a reason for who they are now. We don't go around and go committing those things we ship irl because it's very wrong to do so. As someone who almost attempted horrible things irl at such young age like 11, I myself now have the common sense and the control within myself now that I'm a little more grown up. Now i am older, I know have the care and healthy attachment to keep friendships and hang out with others, be more self-controlling and of course, more understanding of myself and others.

PLEASE PLEASE take care of yourself, if anything bothers you distance yourself from it, drink plenty of water and go for a walk or do your fav hobby, anything when you're feeling a little down ❤️ I'm GLAD I could talk to someone about this! So sorry if it was very long but I hoped this helped with your perspective. You're loved and you're very amazing, I love your account, and I'm willing to share more some other time. Bye👋

Hello :*)

Thank you so much for sharing your reasoning. I love how you found yourself a healthy way to vent out feelings and express them in ways that you can realize how realistically would be harmful. Interesting how darkshipping is actually quite common now that you defined it.

Killers/stalkers/kidnappers x victims are a common trope people love and the complexity of it is something I see everywhere. Even self proclaimed antis use these tropes as well. I never really thought about it until now LOL.

Also, thank you so much for the ask, you are very kind. I am sorry I took so long to get to you 🌸💕 and for the other askers as well. I will get to you all soon. I love you all and the support I have received in this blog.

Explanation for inactivity under cut

I have begun my studies again, and have focused SO much on them I have been neglecting my tumblr. Specifically this one. Trust me when I say this is NOT bait. I promise.

-Soapy

[princescribbler]

How did you learn to be OK liking diapers

I don't always know when to be brief and when to be overly explanatory. I'm guessing this is a time for verbosity, though. Why? Because of the huge subtext in your question. How to be ok with it; not how to be more turned on, how to get a specific kind of relationship... how to be ok with it. How to be ok, implying that you're not ok with your kinks, you're struggling emotionally likely to not just accept your kinks... but to accept yourself. Because spoiler alert: you are made up of a lot of things, and your kinks and fetishes are part of that.

So how did i hey to a point of self acceptance?

First, my process likely looks different than yours will. Let's acknowledge that. Self acceptance is a lifelong journey, and each of us treads our own paths. But put simply...I didn't accept my need for this stuff until I was in my late 20s or really into my early 30s. Plus, my journey involved family issues, recognizing issues with adhd, depression, anxiety, etc. I needed therapy, I needed friends, I needed a new life all before I could start my healing process... and hopefully you don't!

I had issues with acceptance. That's the key of this though: self acceptance and accepting your kinks. Accepting that you really don't have a lot of control over what turns you on, just how you interact with it. Acceptance and acknowledgement that me having a diaper fetish in no way, shape, or form negatively influences me as a human. I'm still me: I just sometimes get off in diapers.

So step 1: acceptance is key, and so is the very challenging task to recognize your value and qualities are not dependent on how socially acceptable those qualities are. Sure, SOME other people might judge, but not the quality ones.

Step 2: reconstruct my mental idea of what my kinks are. For example,I used to think i was deeply fucked up for wanting to wear diapers full time and unpotty train. Heck, I didn't even admit that to a therapist until I was nearly 30, almost a decade AFTER starting therapy... only to be told it wasn't a big deal. The therapist got to the heart of it very fast: she explained it as, roughly, "You want to become diaper dependent, yes because it is sexually exciting in some ways and a loss of autonomy and control, but also so you can justify your needs through physical, rather than emotional, justification". Mind fucking blown. My whole mental map had this idea at the core that I was a perverted sexual deviant... only to be reminded that we're all just trying to figure out why we feel and want what we feel. I'm just a bit more kinky about it than average. Add in a complete internal dialogue change (like accepting the term cute for my regressive mindset instead of it feeling 'fake', or embarrassing, or trying to be PROUD of my efforts to integrate kinky into my life in a healthy way, seeing progress and taking pride) and more change follows.

I found a whole new partnership: I can't promise I'd have made it this far in acceptance and self discovery without my partner, my love, my princess, and my sweetheart babygirl mommabyte, @giggle-byte . I found someone who fostered the good, helped me not obsess over the bad, and worked with me on gently repositioning my outlook and perspective. I think I've helped her in the same way, because support and encouragement are magical, awesome things.

This one can't be ignored: FIX THE OTHER STUFF. You might think your big issue is kink... and sometimes you're right, and sometimes you're wrong. I was fixated on kink as the source of Shame for me, of all my issues. Therapy and EMDR to cope with some trauma changed my outlook and I realized my core issues weren't that I was overly kinky or ashamed... it was that I was not taught healthy interactions with relationships, with kink, with family and I developed fragile and unhealthy attachments while repeating the negative patterns of behavior modeled for me by my family. And I got diagnosed, not just with depression and anxiety, but with adhd. And I started to treat it. I couldn't seem to get a good anti anxiety medication. I tried and failed about a half dozen antidepressants. And then I got help for adhd, and realized that in fact I had a severe developmental disorder, and am not just secretly lazy and useless like my entire self image taught me! Add in actually being better at focus, at my job, learning about my sexual and romantic needs while ACTUALLY GETTING THEM FILLED??? Fucking mind blowing!!!!!

So... to summarize so far, and the Key takeaways of my journey to accepting and being ok with diapers and my kinks; self acceptance, changing my internal dialogue, therapy, addressing underlying emotional and behavioral challenges, finding a romantic partner who accepted, supported, and nurtured my growth and safety, and then honestly working to develop better coping strategies and more positive self talk.

It's a lot! To be honest most folks don't struggle quite this hard, but hey, I'm special I guess. And my family did throw me out over kink. And I might've had a few complicating factors in there, lol... but the point is, being ok with diapers, and kink, and all of this stuff... it wasn't a single thing. And it wasn't a short term fix.

The only things I can advise for 'short-term' improvements are to help are changing your internal dialogue and seeking useful and peer reviewed research on how to cope with kinks and fetishism. And maybe getting a therapist... because that's kind of more key to my personal journey than I want to admit.

Good luck my friend and I wish you comfort, security, self acceptance, and a life of enjoying your kinks!

Good luck, bud, and as I try to tell everyone: stay happy, stay healthy, and stay kinky!!

[dragon-tamer-1]

Aftermare Week 2023

Day 3: Light

Nightmare had a plan: sneak over to Geno and pick him up. Why? He just wanted to surprise him. And hopefully he won't be too startled to summon his attacks.

He peaked his head around the tree to see if Geno was distracted, and saw that he was down in the field of flowers. Perfect. He knows that Geno always seems transfixed on the color and texture of the flowers and likely doesn't notice there's anyone coming up to him if they don't make themselves known.

Moving as quickly and quietly as he can, he made his way down the small hill the Tree stood on. He froze as Geno moved, thinking he noticed him coming and ruining his plan on surprising him. But Geno had only repositioned himself and had not noticed him. Nightmare relaxed, relieved that he was still in the clear.

He was right behind Geno now, and seeing that he was still not noticed, braced himself to pick up the slightly smaller skeleton.

He grabbed Geno from under his arms, yoinked him up, and, to his surprise, stumbled when he realized that it took way less effort to carry Geno than he thought. He nearly fell over, but managed to balance himself with Geno still flailing in his arms. The totally-not-a-girly-scream that totally didn't come out of Geno's mouth(he will never admit it) was hilarious. And no panic magic attacks. Score!

But now he's focused on how light Geno is, like, unhealthy kind of light. Dream is not this light, and Dream is only a half-inch shorter than him, and an inch taller than Geno. Of course, he has no other reference for the healthy weight of a skeleton monster(or a skeleton monster that is also a spirit being for that matter), but he can't help but be concerned.

Meanwhile, Geno is calming down from being picked up out of nowhere upon realizing it was Nightmare. He's about to fuss over being startled like that, but then he notices Nightmare's expression. Geno, now confused, "You okay?"

"W- Oh, yeah, I'm okay. But can I ask you a question?" He lowers Geno to the ground as he asked.

"Of course, what is it?"

"I have just now noticed that you are much lighter than I thought you'd be. Are you alright? Are you not getting enough food?"

Geno was a bit confused until he realized why he was concerned about his health. "Oh! Yeah, I'm okay, I promise. You guys are giving me enough food, and I am as healthy as I can be. It's not something that can be fixed, anyway."

"Oh... But then what caused this? I-If it's alright to ask! You don't have to if it's not something you want to talk about."

"Hey, you're fine. I think it'd be better if we were sitting down for this. Let's go back to the tree, alright?" Nightmare agreed and followed Geno up to the tree.

After sitting down, Geno tried starting to explain, but found it hard to admit how physically weak he was. He knew he said he would tell Nightmare, but a part of him refused to admit how vulnerable he really was, especially since he knows that, despite this, he can hold his own in a short fight.

". . . Are you sure you want to talk about it? You really don't have to if you don't want to."

"No, I want to talk about it. I'm just trying to figure out how to say it without my own stubborn mind fighting me on it... hmm, maybe..." Geno started mumbling to himself, quiet enough that Nightmare couldn't quite pick up what he was saying.

But then Geno looked at him with a determined glint to his eyelight. "I believe it would be better to show you, but I warn you, it isn't going to look pretty. Promise me you won't freak out?"

"Okay, I promise. What is it?"

Geno took a deep breath, and then lifted his shirt, revealing his ribcage. Or what was left of it, most of it looking like it was a touch away from falling apart. A few ribs on the bottom were completely gone, only jagged stubs remained on the part of the spine they would have been attached to. There was also what looked like the scar of a slash that went from the top right of the ribcage to the bottom left. Or at least on what was visible on the frail looking ribs. If Nightmare looked closely he could see that his spine also looked like parts of it had dusted off before stopping completely.

"Oh... oh gosh... does... does it hurt? How-"

"Hey, no freaking out, remember? And no, it doesn't hurt. Not anymore, anyway. It's pretty much tied to the situation with my right eyesocket. And also why I don't really react well to humans. So, remember that I told you about how my world worked? And how a human kid ended up with the ability to reset time?"

"Oh, yeah. It still doesn't make a lot of sense to me. You told me about them starting as a good kid but then started hurting and, uh, killing other monsters. What about it?"

"Well, that's how I got the injury that you can see, the slash. It would have killed me, but because I pretty much pumped myself full of Determination, a substance that pretty much gives you an extra boost and an ability to persist after death, I lived long enough to get myself into a place that I ended up calling the Save Screen. A downside to having too much Determination in me is that I had started melting slightly during my fight with the human.

"I had already lost a... bit of mass to my being, as I had started dusting before I got myself into the Save Screen, and that's why my ribcage looks like this. And why I'm quite a bit lighter than I normally would've been. So, that's why I weigh less than normal."

Nightmare took a minute to process all that information, some of which he kinda knew, but most of it was new to him. On one hand, he's happy that Geno feels comfortable enough with him to tell him this. On the other, it was so much. He knows what the Save Screen is from another time when Geno told him, and how he was able to watch what was going on in his world. And that he could only watch, not interact, not interfere with the goings on in his world.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you. At least you're alive, and here with me and my brother."

"Yeah... yeah, you're right. I have you guys here with me. Even though I miss my bro, and it'll still take some time before I can really feel like this is my new home, I'm grateful for the two of you. Also, I don't want you or Dream treating me like I'm made of glass for this, alright? I can still do most of the things you can do, even if a bit more caution is needed for certain things."

"I won't, and I'll be sure to not let him do that. Though, that does raise the question, do you want him to know about this? He might freak out more than I was about to, but I know he would be understanding of your situation."

"Yeah, I probably should. Later, though, I'm a bit tired."

"Alright then, how about we cuddle for a while?" And upon receiving a nod in reply, he leaned back against the tree. Geno followed his lead and leaned into his side. Soon enough they fell asleep under the warm sunlight that filtered through the leaves.

Later, when Dream returned from whatever stupid errands the villagers were tasking him with, he found both Geno and Nightmare cuddled up to each other for a nap. He decided to have a nap as well and sat against the tree a few inches away, not quite wanting to be away from his brother, but also not wanting to wake them by leaning against them.

This is one I hadn't intended to be as long, but then it got out of my hands. One of the ones that started as fluff, and went to angst, though not as angsty as it could have been. Also this is in the world of Glitched Apples. It happens at some point.

@bluepallilworld @shinechermont

[multiplicity-positivity]

hey uhhh i hope its fine to ask advice.

i (??? im really blurry rn sorry) got two new headmates relatively recently and im trying to figure out how i can let them front without putting us in danger.

if i dont let them front they will be even more mad at me, which just makes it worse.

i just really dont know what to do because we're busy with (online) school for 5 days a week and on the weekends i want to relax, but i guess i cant take all that time for myself because they need time to relax too. but im still really stressed because if they meet my parents and act wrong it might not go well like last time.

it seems really hard to put the time out of my schedule despite it not being that busy due to stuff like chronic pain and needing a lot of time to rest compared to normal. but i dont want them to hate me.

sorry if this is impossible to answer. i get it if you delete it /gen

Hey, this is a fine and valid question to ask. We’ll do our best to answer:

For hosts, allowing their other headmates time to front and interact with the world (if those headmates want it) is essential to ensuring that the whole system can live happy, healthy lives. We know this can be very difficult to come to terms with, especially if you’re not used to having to share your time like this. I (Parker) still get weary from time to time sharing my life with my alters. It used to frustrate me more than it does these days, though. I understand that my alters want to experience life and interact with the world, and in order for me to give that to them, I had to learn how to step back and just let things happen without trying to control every aspect of their lives.

We understand that you might have to mask at home for your own safety. If you are able to contact and communicate with your headmates, it would probably be good to try and explain this to them. Y’all might be able to reach a compromise where other headmates can front if, while your parents are around, they’re able to effectively mask or pretend to be you. We know this situation isn’t ideal, but at least that could allow these headmates a chance to front every now and then. Many systems unfortunately do have to mask for their own safety - and if y'all reach a point in your lives where you no longer have to live with your parents, you can focus on learning to unmask.

At the same time, maybe you could set up some ground rules for dealing with your chronic pain and the amount of rest you need. Could you educate your headmates about the body’s pain and fatigue issues? This way, if other headmates understand how to manage your body’s pain and get enough rest, they may be able to front more often and even help you take care of your body.

To start, even just allowing your headmates to front for 5-10 minutes at a time can allow them to test out the waters of existence, hopefully without exhausting you. The more informed they are about your situation, and the more willing y’all are to make compromises and cooperate with each other, the more you may find it’s possible for you all to live in harmony together. Perhaps with communication, patience, and taking things slow, y'all may be able to start switching in a way that allows your headmates to front occasionally, without putting your system in danger.

Good luck with this! Trying to navigate system life by allowing other headmates to front while keeping the system hidden can certainly be difficult, but for many, this sort of thing is necessary in order to accommodate other members and allow the whole system to experience the world. We're wishing y'all the very best as you try to figure this out!

💫 Parker and 🍃 Corrie

[allyheart707]

HELLO! It's me again! Asking this on my way to school! With more asks again, lol

1. Why was Carol not allowed to see the turtles? Poor Carol, was she too nice or something?

2. Regarding arpil, does she know about Raph or perhaps Mikey or Donnie?

3. Another one Regarding april, how old would april be as of now?

4. Damn bros be needing to take samples alot, you sure they have enough blood for that?

5. I'm not gonna touch those health bars with a five foot pole, so I don't think they are edible, but mind explaining just why they are feeding my poor turtles what I assume is worse then school food?

6. Regarding Carol for this one, Carol, as we know it is a good scientist, so how often did they work with Mikey or Donnie until the others stopped her?

I don't think I have any more asks. Thank you. im always curious about these and have many theories or questions.

Sorry no drawings- feeling lazy XP

One of the (many) reasons was that she kept sneaking in unapproved food.

You willll have to find that out later XP

10- same as Raph! :D

Well, I'm not the best at showing time passing but those samples taken at the beginning of the story happened over a few days. It has been at *least* two days since the last samples were taken!

Ohhhhh the health bars are definitely healthy- that is about all I can say for them, though :(

For a while! She was hired on not long after they realized the turtles were sentient and needed more help figuring these little guys out. She was brought on as an expert in psychology so they could hopefully understand how their brains worked!

[furiousgoldfish]

Happy birthday!!! Idk if your birthday is difficult for you in any way, but I hope you feel some joy about the fact that you've made it this far. Hopefully you did something fun for it!!

Your blog has been an amazing resource for me. I've never been physically or sexually abused- just a nice variety of neglect and social isolation :D And because neglect is not as well recognized as other forms of abuse, it was difficult for me to reconcile that my parents are abusive, but your blog helped me realize that I am, indeed traumatized. Some of your posts resonate with me so much. They make me realize I'm not alone, dramatic, or crazy. That my pain is real, and all that.

Seeing someone else struggle and work through trauma similar to your own is important for healing, I think. You've shown me that it's possible, though painful, to heal and make something of yourself. The trauma will never "go away", and we'll never be "normal" (whatever that is), but it doesn't have to be end of us.

Thank you for sharing so much of yourself. You've helped countless people by spilling your guys, and writing amazing posts.

I always go into holidays and birthdays optimistically, like 'oh I'll be fine, years have passed and surely the trauma wore off' then act surprised when I suddenly get attacks and meltdowns. Who could have predicted this. Not me.

My recovery period does get shorter though, and that's all it matters, seeing progress.

Thank you for all of the kind words you've said to me in your ask, I do want to point out that neglect and social isolation can be absolutely devastating to a child, as attention, interaction, caring touch and social acceptance is absolutely vital for growing up healthy, and missing out on all that makes a very disadvantaged, traumatized person. I didn't realize it either, just how bad neglect it, before reading Complex PTSD from Pete Walker, where it's pointed out and explained in detail, that just the absence of neglect and receiving care can stop someone from developing ptsd altogether after experiencing trauma. It also points out that victims of abuse and neglect will often go and choose abuse rather than suffer neglect, they will want interaction even if that interaction is filled with pain and hatred. That's how bad neglect and isolation are. We are likely to choose to be actively hurt than to be abandoned, alone, without a connection in the world.

Last thing I need to point out is that you already are someone. Just by the fact of existing, you already are someone in this world. It can be very difficult to see it, isolated and with no clear place in current society, but we're all someone even if we don't do anything about it, we don't have to 'make' ourselves, just figure out what fulfills us and go after that. I know abusive parents like to act like this isn't true and they go telling children 'you'll never make anything out of yourself', like that's even a possibility. We're all someone by default. Our choices lie in whether we managed to go and also be happy as ourselves. We don't need to prove that we're something, to anyone.

I agree with everything else you say, even if trauma persists, that's not the end of us, we're still people, and often good, kind, compassionate and capable people. We don't get to see it, because we're not put in a place where our virtues can shine, and out best traits are instead often used against us, but that doesn't change who we are.

I'm glad you can tell that your pain is real, and I'm really sorry you've been put thru all of this, and had to find the resources yourself to make sense of it all. You deserve more resources and support than this blog. Thank you for everything kind you've said to me, it really means a lot to me to read it.

[bobbinalong]

wip

She looked very young when she slept, Tim thought, features relaxed, curly blonde hair falling loosely across her forehead, and it was easy to forget, sometimes, with everything they saw and everything they did, that they both still were very young, children by some people's standards, and that maybe they should always sleep like this, no worries, no nightmares.

Too bad she only slept as peacefully as she did because she was still under general anaesthetic and he hadn't closed his eyes for longer than a second in twenty hours or so.

He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

His eyelids fluttered.

"I'm glad you're alright", he murmured. "Your mom is, too. You gave us quite the scare, y'know? Made me skip town and all, my dad's gonna freak when he wakes up in a few hours. I'm probably gonna get grounded."

He took her warm hand into both of his.

Rested his forehead against his knuckles.

"You're worth it, though."

He wasn't sure how he'd explain to his father how he'd gotten to Gotham within a night.

He wasn't sure how he'd explain what he was doing in Gotham to begin with.

He wasn't sure it mattered right now.

Or at all.

He lifted his head with a sigh.

Once Crystal came to take his place or Stephanie had woken up—whichever came first, he supposed—he'd have to find a way to call home, let his father know where he was. Hopefully before the man found his son's bed empty once more.

His phone was resting comfortably on his nightstand, where he'd put it before leaving for patrol and where it did him no good, and it wasn't like he could reach dad on the Bat-Comms. He usually kept some change in his utility belt, though, so if he found a payphone, at least that should be fine.

Nothing else would be, his father would probably install bars before his new windows, but all that was hours away and he was exhausted—this wasn't worth spending his last bit of energy on.

Steph stirred, then.

And every thought not about her fled him so quickly that for a second, he had trouble remembering what he'd been worried about at all.

Her mouth twitched.

Tim squeezed her hand.

"Steph?"

And leaned forward, eyes wide, heart trembling under two layers of disguise.

"Can you hear me, Steph?"

Her eyes fluttered.

"Steph?"

"… Robin?"

Her voice was low, almost inaudible, and he leaned forward to be sure to catch every word she might mumble.

A dopey smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

She sounded relieved when she said: "You're here."

"I've been here the whole time. Sat with your mom. She's alright, y'know? Worried sick about you."

His thumb stroked her knuckles when she hummed quietly.

Her eyes fell back shut.

"I'm so tired", she mumbled, and then, like his words had taken a second longer to reach her than usual: "My mom's still here?"

"She never left. I don't think anything could have made her. She's—"

With the baby.

Who Stephanie hadn't mentioned yet, too tired, too scared, still a little too disoriented, maybe, and so he said, softly, gently: "Steph? You know why you're here, right? You remember?"

Her face scrunched up for a moment and when she blinked, not without some trouble, her eyes were wet, a tear slipped down her cheek.

He hurried to reach out and brush it away.

She turned into his palm.

"The baby's fine", he assured quickly. "A healthy little girl. Your mom is with her."

His smile was hidden by his mask.

Hers wasn't.

It was small and uncertain and just a little wobbly, but happy without a doubt.

"Have you seen her?"

There was a hopeful curiosity in her eyes that made his heart lurch in an odd way, one he didn't have the energy left to examine, and so he just shook his head slowly, biting his lip when Steph's smile slipped for a second.

"Not yet", he said. "I figured … well, I'm not family. And your mom and I thought it would be good if you had a familiar face here if you woke up. Which you did. So it is good that I'm here. But your mom'll be here in a minute, I'm sure, and she'll tell you everything you want to know about the … about the baby. That is. I mean … Hm."

He'd taken off his gloves before sitting down with her and he missed having something to busy his hands with.

"You weren't sure about keeping the baby when you called … Are you … are you now?"

Stephanie took a shuddering breath.

[brokenpaladin]

10, 20, and 38! (I rolled a dice so I have no idea which ones these are 👀)

And A for the creator ask!

Oh boy, a fun selection!! This'll be long, hopefully I can put a read more here via mobile. Also, I'm gonna answer the creator one first,

A) Why are you excited about this character?

*drags over a chair* WELL I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED. Though I guess an easier question would be what am I not excited about over Talis. I love him!! He's my boy!! He'll second-guess himself into the ground over something as simple as small talk, and he'll commit physical violence to protect a frightened stranger. He's convinced he's a terrible, foreboding presence and he gives off the biggest kicked puppy energy ever

He's seven feet tall and tries to stand as small as he can. He knits and mends to calm himself. If he stares at the sky too long he'll cry. He'll swear on his life to help someone get somewhere safely and he fully means it. He can't spend more than a few weeks traveling with someone before he's convinced he needs to leave for their own safety.

He once became a crux-point person in the change of power in an entire city, was nearly executed in another's place, and I'm not sure he realizes it. He befriended an injured owlbear. He's functionally homeless. He's absurdly powerful for a random forest stray living outside a town in the middle of nowhere, and he still will hire himself out as a day laborer in exchange for a meal

More seriously, he's become a very near and dear representation of an archetype I've always felt drawn to but never really sat down to extrapolate or write with abandon-- the self-sacrificing hero. The one who will put himself in danger to protect others. And specifically, the toll that takes, time and again, throwing yourself between another and cruelty you can't stop. The way it warps your thoughts and your view of yourself

And hopefully also how you learn to redirect that protective instinct into a healthy direction, how to grow and heal and value yourself again >:T But we're working on that bit

10. What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

I mean, tbh, everything haunts him-- he lets nothing go :') But the lie he tells most frequently, and actively, is probably about his own state or well-being. The simple regular ones, "I'm fine" and "it's nothing", the ones you tell to keep going. He doesn't think much of it, actually. He's sturdy and has survived worse, so to fuss over a bout of fear or a single wound feels painfully pointless

20. If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

Oof….. um, that would be a tricky one for our paladin lad. For you see, he's aromantic! He's never really felt a draw towards any particularly romantic relationship? But he's always been an affectionate, friendly lad, even as a kid, so growing up it was a little tricky to navigate-- he and his mom had many a long talk about how it felt weird when people made a big deal about holding hands, or how sometimes the way someone insinuated around him spending time with a friend felt uncomfortable. But she listened to his anxious talking over it, and helped him figure out that while he was fond of folk, he didn't feel drawn to them in a coupling sort of way-- just general affection or physical attraction, though he always got embarrassed to bring that up (I mean he was an absolute goob as a kid)

Now though, you're mostly just going to get a momentarily puzzled look and a shrug. He's not so talkative, these days

38. What memory do they revisit the most often?

Consciously, none. Or, he tries not to think on anything that has been, but he finds his memories of living in Neverwinter intruding most frequently when he's awake. For good or for ill, that was his safest and best home when he returned to the surface. He'll push those memories away as often as he can, because he doesn't think he has any right to miss his home there. He left voluntarily, after all. They would have kept him and looked after him forever, if he let them…