#i'm ensorcelled by him

[wildsaltair]

a few pictures of Russell and Bridget that have made my brain go on a permanent vacation

[bigfan-fanfic]

My Blooming Rose (Enchantress' Child!Reader x Ben Florian)

@iliumheightnights Hi friend! May I please request a little story? I'd love to read a story about Ben Florian dating a son of the enchantress reader. Reader still is learning magic and Ben helps him when he can and encourages him? All the fluff please?

In some respects, no one would necessarily blame your boyfriend's father for wanting to imprison your mother on the Isle of the Lost.

She did, after all, enchant a young, albeit spoiled, prince and condemn him (an eleven-year-old, mind you) to ten years of suffering and self-loathing in a body not his own.

But no. King Adam and his Queen would never have met if not for the Enchantress.

Besides, they learned well from the example of Queen Leah and King Stefan - don't piss off the magical entity in close proximity.

And so the Enchantress lived within Auradon, and you, her child, were born.

You're not sure you quite approve of the whole Isle of the Lost thing - your mother's punishments tended to get to people before they became irredeemable, so the idea of endless incarceration seems harsh, even by her standards.

But all the same, you are invited to Auradon Prep, mainly to study with the Fairy Godmother to hone your talents in magic. And since you aren't expected to enter a royal line, you don't even have to do some of the more inane Auradon courses.

But who would have thought that without any magic at all, you'd have ensorcelled the heart of Prince Ben.

Ben is just a spot of sunshine in your world, he's so affectionate and lovely.

And supportive!

He's figured out the loophole in the rule that he can't spend all his free time with you by organizing "study dates" in addition to normal dates.

But since magical homework and study is pretty involved, that just means he hangs around in your dorm with you more often than not.

Not that either of you mind.

Except this can sometimes lead to minor mishaps.

You're practicing a spell in the mirror, meant to help disguise someone by changing their appearance.

Focusing on your hair, trying to lengthen it just a little. Just a small test.

But then Ben leaps up to kiss you on the cheek and you wave the training wand just a little haphazardly-

And Ben gets a face-full of your magic.

"Oh my gosh, Ben! Are you okay?"

"Yup!" Ben groans from the floor. "Nothing broken. I think."

He hops back up to his feet, and you gasp.

Your boyfriend's smooth jaw has sprouted patchy growths of hair that are still thickening until they make a rather nice beard and mustache. "Ben... I..."

Ben sees himself in the mirror and grins. "Oh, this is nice!"

"It was an accident."

"If even your accidents are this great, you're gonna be a better wizard than Merlin!" Ben pats your shoulder before stroking his new beard. "It's not even scratchy!"

You blush. "You look really good with a beard."

"Do I look kingly?" Ben asks eagerly, striking a pose.

"You do, but let's try and find a counterspell quickly. Accidental magic tends to corrupt pretty fast. You might end up with the hair changing colors like a chameleon or something."

"That actually sounds kinda-"

"And then I wouldn't be able to see where to kiss you."

Ben instantly gets serious. "Let's hit the books."

"But uh... when you do reverse the spell... Maybe try it on purpose? I wanna see what kissing with a beard is like."

You grin. "Oh really? Why?"

"Cause when you're my Royal Consort, I'll probably grow out a beard and kiss you all the time, so... I wanna see what I'm working toward."

You laugh and then squeeze his hand. "In that case, let's get this thing reversed as soon as we can."

"Love you. My blooming rose."

"Love you. My noble king."

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 82: Vivian's Peace

Prev > Masterlist > Next

tw: broken leg, mind control, lots o' stabbing

October 1925

Vivian's scream echoed through the safe house as Oliver, disoriented and hallucinating, tripped and fell down the stairs before she could catch him. She'd seen many gut-churning injuries in her time as a hunter, but it still didn't prepare her for how Oliver's leg was bent in an unnatural way. Blood trickled down his face, and his eyes were glassy, staring at nothing.

"Oliver!" She rushed to his side. "Oliver, can you hear me?"

"…Yes," he said weakly.

"All right. Don't try to move. I'm going to take you to a doctor."

So much for hunting her vampire quarry this evening -- but there was nothing that could be done about it unless she was okay with leaving Oliver to suffer and maybe even die.

"What happened to Oliver?" Emily had run over. "Oh my god, his leg…"

"It's broken. I'll need help loading him into the car so I can take him to the hospital. It isn't far."

Emily looked pale as she helped Vivian pick Oliver up. He looked pained as they accidentally jostled his leg, but he didn't cry out, seemingly lost in a place far away. His eyelids were drooping, and Vivian knew that he was still under the effect of the sleeping draught she had given him.

She thought she was doing him a favor. He was panicking about the possibility of his vampire master being killed, even though most of the enthrallment should have been cleared from his mind. The vampire had such a strong grip on the unfortunate man, and he was clearly going to be a hindrance in his own salvation. It seemed like a mercy to put him to sleep until the morning, when hopefully the vampire who tormented him had been returned to hell and he could think clearly once again. She had never expected this.

The two women struggled to get a semi-unconscious Oliver into the car. He was pale and shivering now.

This was all her fault. She shouldn't have been a coward, terrified of enthrallment, a fate far worse than death. She should have killed Alexander when she had the chance. She'd been so intensely gripped by panic when she felt his spell starting to breach her defenses -- if this was how she reacted to Alexander, how could she ever hope to destroy his vile sire and avenge her mother?

And now, he would be hunting her. Oliver was bleeding, and that would make him easier to track. What if Alexander picked up the trail, and it led him straight to the safe house? What if he brought the Maestro with him? She wasn't remotely prepared to try and kill both of them at once, especially not with the former thralls' lives on the line.

"Emily, listen to me," she said, pulling a wad of cash from her wallet. "You need to run."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Just trust me. Take this money, go to the train station on the corner of 7th, and get a ticket going anywhere, enough to put some distance between you and vampires. Gather up the rest of the thralls and take them along too."

"What about Bobby?" Emily asked.

"Try to get him out, but if you can't, lock the doors and leave him. Hopefully I'll be able to get back soon and get him myself." It was an awful thing to consider, but she wasn't willing to tell Emily and the other thralls to sacrifice themselves to save someone so far gone he might never return.

"But what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to take Oliver to the hospital, and then I'm going to hunt vampires." It was the only thing she could do. Oliver made a low noise of distress, and Vivian knew she couldn't wait any longer. She waved goodbye to to a frantic Emily and drove off.

"I need to go," murmured Oliver, half-asleep. "It's the only way. I need to go."

Perhaps taking Oliver had been a mistake. He was so deeply ensorcelled that her magic couldn't fully dispel it. She would have just tossed him back at the vampire to make her escape if it hadn't been for Emily's request to help him.

Vivian looked over at Oliver, his face screwed up in pain even as the sleeping draught kept him mostly asleep. A hopeless case -- she could see that now. Even if Alexander died, he was the sort that would be selling himself back to a vampire within three months, no doubt. The way he defended that monster sickened her. He'd rather see her condemned to a lifetime of mindless servitude than to have her slaughter the creature that'd kept him captive. Even if it wasn't his fault, even if it was just the spell that had been placed on him, she could hardly stand to hear it.

Then again, Oliver had given her by far the most information she'd had on the Maestro. That made his rescue worth it.

Unfortunately, if the Maestro were actually on her trail, she was not prepared to fight him yet. Her rune's effectiveness had faded before she could finish the job with Alexander, and the Maestro was no doubt stronger than that. She needed better safeguards if she wanted to stand a chance.

The car sputtered to a stop in front of the hospital. Thankfully, Vivian was strong enough to carry Oliver, who was in no shape to walk on his own. He groaned as she took him through the double doors and into the dingy lobby. Vivian was very well acquainted with this hospital, as it was the only one in the city open throughout the night.

The night nurse behind the desk put down her magazine. "What happened to him?"

"He accidentally fell down a flight of stairs and broke his leg. He also hit his head and may have other injuries."

She nodded and stood. "We'll get him into a bed right away. There are no doctors on staff right now, but one of the nurses can examine the fracture, set the bone, and give him something to ease the pain. There will be a doctor to see him in the morning."

"That'll do." Vivian followed the nurse into a hall, where patients lay on thin white mattresses. They were mostly asleep or half-awake, but a few stared at them with wide eyes as they passed. The nurse gestured to an open bed, and Vivian lay Oliver down on it, trying to be careful with his battered leg.

"Are you his wife or his sister?" the nurse asked.

"Nothing like that. I hardly know him. He was… in need of a room, and staying at my house temporarily."

"I see. Does he have any family we could contact?"

"No. In fact, if anyone comes by claiming to be his family, you should turn them away." It wouldn't do much good if Alexander came calling, as he'd have this nurse's mind in his grasp in seconds, but she might as well try.

Vivian and the nurse returned to the lobby, and the nurse waved a piece of paper at Vivian. "Could you at least fill out the intake form? We'll need his name and --"

"His name's Oliver. I don't know his last name or anything else about him. And I need to get going." This unexpected emergency had burned a critical part of her night, and she needed to get back on track if she had any hope of finding Alexander before he found her. With Oliver's blood in the air, she was at even more of a disadvantage.

She'd done what she could for Oliver. With the way his leg looked, he might never walk properly again, but that was the doctors' problem. The best thing she could do for him now would be to dispose of his vampiric master.

Vivian got back in the car and slumped in the driver's seat. She took out her knife and carved the familiar rune, something she might need to do several times tonight in case she were ambushed. Where was Alexander most likely to be? If he caught the scent of Oliver's blood -- and depending on how keen his senses were, he might be able to do so from miles away -- then he'd be either here at the hospital or at the safe house. Hopefully the thralls had evacuated for the train station by now.

With any luck, she'd be able to catch her quarry prowling near the safe house. As she drove, she considered her strategy. She knew now that she couldn't rely on the rune for long, not when Alexander began to sing, so she would have to make it quick. She had an incapacitation spell, but it probably wouldn't be enough to stop his voice, and --

Vivian screamed as a pedestrian appeared in the road in front of her, swerving the car and driving it halfway onto the sidewalk. She'd been so absorbed in thought that she hadn't even seen the woman in time. Heart pounding, she opened the door and went to the poor soul she'd nearly hit. It was a young woman in a floral sundress, with an innocent and sweet face, a visage that would have fooled anyone but a seasoned hunter. As it was, Vivian realized her mistake before she'd taken even a few steps.

"Don't move," said the woman, her voice carrying an air of authority. Vivian's rune burned as it absorbed the command, and she could tell immediately that this vampire was extraordinarily powerful. With Alexander lurking out there, this was the worst time possible for her to run into another vampire.

And it would be much, much worse if it wasn't a coincidence at all, if the two vampires were working together.

Vivian pulled her silver knife with one hand and a strength draught with another. The possibility that she was working with Alexander meant that her usual trick, pretending to be enthralled to get the vampire to let their guard down, wouldn't work, and that meant she had to rely on physical prowess to quickly end it. The vampire was at least a foot shorter than Vivian, a bit plump with no muscle, and if she were a human, she'd be no match for Vivian. With vampires, though, their appearance was a poor indicator of their abilities.

"Oh, dear, is that any way to treat me after you nearly ran me over?" said the vampire, honey sweet. "Why don't you just lay down that weapon and relax, and we can have a nice chat."

Vivian didn't bother to respond, as there was no point. Anything this vampire said was intended for the sole purpose of trapping her mind. She downed the strength potion in one gulp, trying not to gag on its rotten meat smell, and charged.

The vampire seemed to be taken off guard by the force of Vivian's blow, staggering backwards and losing her footing. Vivian didn't hesitate, jumping on top of her and pinning one arm, aiming her silver knife straight at her heart.

"Stop!" she cried out, and although her rune absorbed the magic, it was enough to make her hesitate for just one second, enough time for the vampire to toss her off and stand up again. Vivian leapt to her feet and was about to try again when she heard an echoing song from nearby. Alexander. He was here too.

"I don't want to hurt you," said the vampire, weaving her spell. "You'll feel much better if you calm down and stop fighting."

Sleep, said the song in her mind. Give up and rest. You're exhausted. Close your tired eyes and go to sleep.

The rune was searing itself into her arm, its power draining too quickly with the enthralling spells of two vampires prodding at her mind. She had to take one out quickly, and judging from the fight last night, Alexander was the weaker of the two. She feigned as if she were lunging at the other vampire again, and as soon as she braced herself for the impact, she turned and leapt in the direction of the song.

"Oh, no, you don't." The other vampire grabbed her arms from behind, restraining her. "I told you, you need to calm down and stop fighting."

Alexander stepped out of the shadows, his song more insistent. Surrender. Obey. Sleep.

"No, let go of me!" Vivian managed to free the hand with the silver knife, only to have it caught by Alexander. Her potion gave her the strength to shake him off, trying to plunge the knife into his chest, when the other vampire dragged her backwards, causing her to swipe at the air.

"None of that. You don't need to fight," whispered the sweet voice in her ear. "You don't need to think. You just need to surrender."

Go to sleep. Shut your eyes. Surrender. Open your mind and listen.

The brand on her arm was flickering, and now Vivian was truly scared. She was at a severe disadvantage now that she'd failed to take either vampire down quickly, and if her protections faltered, it would be impossible to resist their spell. She kicked backwards at the vampire holding her, managing to sweep out one leg and sending them both toppling onto the road.

"So feisty!" she said, laughing. "Oh, you're going to be a fun one. All you have to do is surrender, and then we can play together."

Alexander wrenched the silver knife from her grasp, cutting himself in the process and tossing the knife half a block away. Even as he clenched at the wound on his hand, his singing didn't falter.

But Vivian's brand did. She could feel her muscles relaxing against her will, her mind clouding.

The other vampire pulled her close, speaking seductively in her ear. "Good girl. Just submit to me. Submit and surrender yourself."

Surrender yourself, Alexander's song echoed. Sleep and obey.

She pushed against the insidious commands with all her might. This was it. She had one last chance. The other vampire had made the fatal mistake of allowing Vivian to be close, believing her to be enthralled. She would only have one shot at this.

As quick as she could, she pulled her second knife from her belt and thrust it towards the vampire's heart.

"Lily!"

Time seemed to slow. Alexander shoved the vampire aside, the silver knife catching him in his upper arm. He cried out, clutching the burning wound, as Vivian reeled.

Lily. The expert in human subjugation, the name on every other thrall's lips when they were asked who had hypnotized them. The vampire who'd captured and enthralled every hunter who'd gone after her. The vampire that scared Vivian more than any others save the Maestro. She was here, ready to silence Vivian's mind forever.

"Oh, no, you don't, you rotten little brat!" said Lily, grabbing Vivian around the chest. Vivian's hand was still free enough to plunge the knife into her side, earning an agonized shriek. Lily collapsed onto the road, the gash steaming where the silver had burned her.

The triumph was short-lived, however, because Alexander grabbed her from behind and sang a pure, clear note in her ear, one which stopped any thoughts in their tracks. Vivian pulled away, but he was singing of sleep, sleep, sleep -- and her defenses were faltering. She swayed uncertainly on her feet, lifting up the knife to defend herself, even as thick drowsiness enveloped her mind and body.

When she swung the knife at Alexander, it was clumsy and slow, not like the blow she'd used against Lily. He caught it easily, disarming her of her second knife and grabbing both of her wrists.

The brand on Vivian's arm went numb, shedding the last of its protection, and with that, Vivian felt herself sinking into a fatal stupor. She'd never felt this way before -- like she was going to lose.

So this really was it. This was her end, captured and forced into servitude. It was just like she'd told Oliver would happen, if she lost.

And this was the vampire Oliver thought she could reason with! He'd brought a specialist in human enslavement as his backup. All vampires were the same deep down, just as she'd thought.

Surrender, he sang. Submit to me and obey.

"Oliver… thought you… were better than this…" she said.

"What?" That startled the vampire out of his perilous song, giving Vivian a moment to try and collect herself.

"Focus, Lex," said Lily from where she was curled on the floor. "She's trying to get a rise out of you."

Alexander resumed his song before Vivian could truly catch her breath. Go to sleep, go to sleep and surrender, let your mind sleep and open to my words.

"That's it, go to sleep," Lily coaxed. "No more fighting. Off to dreamland."

Vivian had never been this exhausted before, so utterly spent that no matter how hard she fought against it, she couldn't stop her head from nodding forward and heavy eyes from closing. Alexander caught her as she pitched forward, holding her gently and stroking her hair. He smelled of soap.

And Vivian's tired mind finally gave up.

It was like a rubber band finally snapping under tension. As soon as she lost the battle against enthrallment, she fell deep and hard into enchanted slumber, immediately dropping down into the hypnosis she'd fought so hard against. Alexander continued to sing to her, his voice dark and sure, and Vivian opened to it, allowing the song to pour into her defenseless mind.

"There, now, you are truly under my control."

"Yes, sir," she said, without a second thought. That was what thralls said, and she was a thrall now.

"Very good. You will tell me the truth."

"I will tell you the truth, sir."

"Lex, be careful. She might be trying to trick you again," said Lily.

"If it's a trick, it's a damn good one."

"Not a trick, sir," she murmured. "I'm under your spell." It felt so right, in the strangest way. She knew what thralls did, what they acted like, and so she knew exactly what she was supposed to do. She'd never felt so at peace, forgetting what had made her so frightened.

"Where is Oliver?" he asked.

"In the hospital, sir."

"The hospital!"

"He broke his leg falling down the stairs, sir."

"Damn," Alexander swore. "Which hospital?"

"Mercy, sir."

"I know where that is," said Lily. "I had to take a thrall there once."

"I have to go to him," said Alexander. "But I can't just leave you, and we'll need to make sure the hunter doesn't wake."

"A broken leg isn't fatal. Oliver will be just fine in the hospital, with human doctors to treat him. You can go to him tomorrow night."

"But my sire --"

"Will do what he pleases regardless of what you do. But I can't get home by myself like this, Lex, especially not with the risk that the hunter might wake up."

"You're right. I hate to leave him there in pain, but -- you're right." Alexander hummed a tune of obedience and docility, sinking Vivian further. "I can't carry you and tend to the hunter all at once, though. You'll need to heal up enough to walk. You need fresh blood."

"I was thinking the same thing," said Lily. "Her blood smells amazing. It's just the thing."

"And drinking from her will help subdue her as well. Here, let me bring her close."

Vivian felt herself being set down on the road. She was dimly aware that the vampires were going to drink from her. She'd never had a vampire's fangs on her neck before, except in her nightmares.

Alexander's song changed. Let her feed, give your blood, be still and quiet.

Vivian couldn't move, could hardly even breathe, as her shirt was pulled aside and her body arranged to make her neck more convenient for Lily to access.

"Good girl," said the sweet voice in her ear. "This won't hurt at all. This is going to feel wonderful, and then you'll know what your true purpose was all along."

Still and quiet. Feel no pain.

The cold fangs settled onto her vulnerable neck for just a moment before biting down, and Vivian was lost, so utterly lost.

Prev > Masterlist > Next

She'll be fine, probably. Next week: One of Alexander's worst days.

Thanks for reading!

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @und3ad-mutt

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

@fuckcapitalismasshole @slightlydisturbedbeans @paperprinxe @demetercabingreen-thumb @the-broken-pen

@pokemaniacgemini @jumpywhumpywriter @basica11ywhumped @anoontjecanush @cepheusgalaxy

@whump-me-harder @whump-till-ya-jump @the-monarch-whumperfly @ium1naryy @wumpbean

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

She stands between his legs on a stool and kisses him in an attempt to ensorcel him. She asks, did you enjoy that? Cory smiles. Yes ma'am. Topanga is relieved. Okay, good. -Danielle 

Thank God he's straight. -Rider

Thank God my boyfriend still likes it when I kiss him. Very benignly. -Danielle 

Well, Danielle, in all fairness, you've got a history. I'm just saying just a history of your boyfriend's turning out to be gay. -Will

[dandelion-wings]

Stuck at the hospital with only my phone and rn the sickfic WIP isn't appealing, so why not start a new phone WIP? >> This concept originates from a longer idea @theabysscomeshome and I had once (wherein this episode feeds into a relationship shift), but rn I'm just focusing on baby Kaeya.

---

ETA: Now edited on AO3!

---

"This must be confusing for you," says the red-haired man crouching in front of Kaeya. It's the first sensible thing Kaeya has heard anyone say since he woke up under this terrible open sky.

He doesn't say that, of course. He only nods. Giving anything away to these people would be a bad idea.

It's a good thing, in a way, that he'd woken to see the woman standing behind him before anything else. Her, and the sky above her, and the symbol of the Ordo Favonius--their ancient enemies, the crusading scourge that followed the first disasters of the Cataclysm--emblazoned upon her armor. She had seemed to take both his scream and his frantic grab for the sword beside him in stride, though she had wrestled the weapon away. She'd claimed to *know* him.

Kaeya knows no Knight of Favonius, but as long as he goes along with her claim, she seems disinclined to kill him. So he can't do anything that will prove her wrong.

"I thought that he would be more comfortable here at the Dawn Winery," she's telling the red-haired man now. "He's been very shy, and I think being around so many armed knights is frightening for him."

"He was afraid of knights when he first came here," the man agrees. Which means he thinks he knows Kaeya, too. "We'll look after him until your alchemists come up with a solution."

"Thank you. I know he'll be happier with you."

Kaeya stiffens when she puts a hand on his shoulder, but all she does is squeeze. When he looks up, she's smiling at him.

"We will work tirelessly to repair this," she tells him. "For now, simply enjoy your time here at the Winery."

Then she turns and walks away, leaving Kaeya here in this softly-lit room with the man looming over him even crouched to his height. It's still better than being surrounded by Favonian knights.

"Has Jean explained the situation to you?" the man asks.

She'd told him that she knew him as an adult, that he was a captain under her, and that some Abyss Mage had ensorcelled him in a fight. She'd told him that he was her best friend. Kaeya doesn't believe any of it, of course. But *she* does.

His own best theory, right now, is that the Abyss Mage switched them somehow. Why, he doesn't know. How his name can match her friend's, and furthermore how he can look enough like the man she knows for her to believe it, he doesn't know either. But Mages are capricious; that one snatched him from where he slept at his father's side while he slept and substituted him for this Mondstadtian Kaeya seems more likely than becoming a Knight of Favonius. Or, worse, the *friend* of one of those butchers.

Kaeya just nods again.

"Then I won't try to pretend that I'm Father. Not that there would be any point in that. I am Diluc. I'm simply fifteen years older than I was when you arrived."

He seems to expect some kind of answer, so Kaeya nods a third time.

The man nods back. Then he stands, abruptly, to his full height. It takes all of Kaeya's efforts not to flinch. If the knight thought he would be happier here, then surely the person she thinks he is wouldn't.

Passing Kaeya, the man--Diluc--opens the door. "Let's go find Adelinde. She can get your room set up and feed you. I'm sure you're hungry."

That's the second sensible thing Kaeya has heard anyone say today, so he follows.

[desceros]

ajkfljskj I saw you were taking requests now and I lowkey just- 👀 I'm having sexy Bayverse Turtles intrusive thoughts. Imma share a Leo one. Ever imagined Bay!Leo sharing his hobbies with reader after she earned his trust and teaching her Japanese calligraphy? Him watching her skin glow in the candlelight, dreaming to use her naked body as a canvas for a Japanese love poem written in kanji? Sexual tension, mixed with slow, agonizing brushstrokes? Cuz I have 😏 -💙

so i got this and immediately i was like 'omg. this would work So Well as a deleted scene of sorts for tea-verse' so that's what it ended up as. kind of sexual tension but it edges more on pining. also, i'm burning now, thank you everyone for playing, we had a great run here on desceros dot com leonardo x reader; T, GN!reader, 1.8k; leo pining like a TREE. officially takes place after the leaf scene in this fic if you want context for some of the subtler touches but tl;dr reader always makes leo his tea. (the fic itself has a female reader but this snippet is GN)

He wonders if you know. 

You’ve caught him staring, before. It makes his shell feel tight, his skin too-hot. Even with mating season coming up, it’s too soon for him to be reacting like this; the burning ache that comes just from the bell of your voice, the alluring sway of your footsteps as you come to his side. And yet he does. Because it’s you. Just because it’s you.

“Okay, I’m excited for this,” you tell him, teeth biting into a smile as you tuck as close as you can without touching. He knows you do it for him, that you stay away because of his wishes, but it’s an agony all the same. The sweet smell of your soap haunts him, even under the burn of the incense that ghosts the room with smoke.

“Yeah?” he asks, pleased when he sees the happy, easy glow of your face. 

“Are you kidding? It’s so pretty,” you say. “Plus I like how the ink smells. It smells really nice with the tea when I bring it in.” 

Pretty, he echoes, trailing his eyes down to your throat, your shoulders, your hands. The way all your angles and curves catch the candlelight and dance in a softness that makes his palms ache with emptiness.

…He wonders if you know how soft you make him.

“Okay. Tell me the names for everything,” you tell him, studying the tools laid out before him, a gentle eagerness brightening your eyes. He smiles, turning his head and gesturing at everything to share its proper name in Japanese, then English. Grinding the ink, he explains the process, looking to you and your fascinated expression and trying to remember to breathe.

“What do you want me to write?” he asks once he’s ready, causing you to look at him and smile.

“What do you want to write?” you ask. 

Reaching out, he picks up the brush between his fingers. He studies the paper before him, blank and infinite, but his mind is somewhere else. 

…It had rained, a few days ago. You’d come into the lair drenched, laughing as Splinter had sent him off to bring you a towel. He’d returned in time to see you lift your shirt, squeezing it out over the storm drain, miles and miles and miles of skin stretching before his eyes. The curve of your spine as you turned to speak to his father, the arch of your hips as you leaned to twist the fabric, the pull of skin over your flesh. Breathless, motionless, frozen, he’d faltered in the doorway, ensorcelled by the image forever, marked, seared into his mind.

It’s that sight that comes to his mind, now, as he closes his eyes. 

He could do it, he thinks. He could ask you to turn, to pull your shirt over your head. It’s so easy to imagine the way your shoulder blades would curve, the dip of your spine, the way you’d shiver when he pressed the brush to your skin. It would tickle, at first, until you got used to it; then you’d sigh, still, and let him spread his soul onto your canvas.

Oh, all the things he wants to write there, where it would sink into your flesh like a brand. All the little ghosts of you that haunt him, memorialized with love in charcoal: the way your teeth catch your lip, the flash of skin at your hemline when you stretch your arms above your head, the wet press of your tongue to your lips when they're dry, the way your eyes flutter shut when you have your first sip of tea, the hum of pleasure you give when it tastes good. 

…He’d make you feel so good.

“…Leo?”

Leo opens his eyes, feeling the hunger in them, letting them get as far as your mouth before he turns them back to the paper before him. A pointless daydream, a torment of his own making. 

“…Sorry. I was just thinking,” he says, and it’s not a lie, not entirely, but also nothing but. There is nothing just about the way that you consume him.

It’s easy, then, to think of what to write. In long, elegant nine strokes that pull from his shoulder, he glides the brush over the paper. Each inch of ink carries a memory of you, your hands as you pass him a teacup, your care in checking the flavor, your endless drive to perfect the art just for him. 

“…Tea,” you recognize, proving your familiarity with the subject. He smiles; of course you’d recognize it, what with how often the two of you share.

“Tea,” he echoes, waiting until the ink is dry enough to handle before he takes the paper and hands it to you. “Here. For you.” 

“Wh—Really?” you ask, eyes wide. 

“Of course. It’s about time I gave some tea to you, after all,” he says with a smile that makes you laugh. He tucks the sound into his heart, next to all of the others. 

“It’s beautiful, Leo,” you compliment, holding it before you. Your eyes take in every stroke, awe open and genuine, before they meet his own and your smile goes warm like the sun. “Thank you. I’m going to hang it somewhere nice in my apartment.” 

And oh, but you are the sun, he thinks, heart pounding as he watches your fingers trail down the edge of the paper. Reaching out with warmth, lighting everything you touch, smiling as everyone around you basks in your radiant glow. What is life without you, he wonders, chest aching and so full and so empty all at once it hurts. Madness. 

…He wonders if you know. 

[merakiui]

overblot! Riddle nonconning you in front of Ace and Deuce while going on about how this is the only thing a magicless nobody is good for ���🏼

Omg yes,,,,,,,,

(cw: yandere, gender neutral, nsfw, non-con, humiliation/degradation, public sex)

Amidst a ruined, debris-ridden rose maze, a monster looms. No one dares stray close, lest they find themselves maimed and sent to the grave, and so they can only watch helplessly from the safety of overturned chairs, tables, and uprooted rose trees. The scene was once serene, an almost-perfect Unbirthday. Now it is desolate and bleak, a nightmarish reality that leaves thick, discomforting silence blanketing the grounds.

Riddle casts a grotesquely bone-chilling shadow, and his appearance mirrors that of a creature torn from the pages of a classic horror; that's the only way to describe him: cruel and cold, all sharp, vicious edges and thorns, dripping blot. He's on the verge of a supernova, toeing the line of life and death, a monstrous mage who has reached the consequences of a culmination of excessive magic, spilled over into bitter negativity. The aura that clings to him is, in a word, utterly terrifying.

And you're right there in his shadow, a fragile, caged thing bent down on your hands and knees. Your fingers curl into the grass, tearing clumps. No one dares to speak up, to demand he release you, to fight for your safety and dignity. Hopelessly collared, Ace and Deuce, your closest companions in all of this mess, look on in horror even though they don't mean to.

It's like a tragedy spun right before their eyes. They want to look away, but they can't. It's morbidly ensorcelling.

"Observe!" Riddle's voice booms, commanding absolute obedience and attention. His pallid hips press against your ass while clawed hands dig into your hips, holding you perfectly still. Blood is drawn; it seeps beneath his sharpened nails, leaving painful indents. You feel filthy and fearful, cut down to something small and insignificant and weak. Droplets of blot speckle your backside each time he shifts. It's warm like candle wax, but it doesn't burn.

The betrayal does, though—stains through to your very soul.

You grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut in hopes of drifting off elsewhere. Anywhere that isn't here, speared on his cock for all to see, forced into the grass like you're bowing apologetically before the Queen and her card soldiers.

"You lack the key capabilities all mages must possess, and yet you thought it wise to challenge my rules? Here? When my word is law?" He barks out a laugh, sickly amused. Scarlet eyes narrow with disdain. "Perhaps you're as slovenly as you are disobedient. As expected of a disrespectful, magic-less fool who knows nothing! Absolutely nothing of the order I so carefully uphold!"

He pulls back, seething through grit teeth, and snaps his hips forwards. You collapse on shaky arms, gasping in pain.

It hurts more than heartbreak, more than a bruise, more than a slap. Tears spot your lash line, threatening to fall with one more well-aimed, brutal thrust. Spidery fingers dance along your waist, tracing a line towards your neck. He grips your chin and forces you to look upon a crowd of terrified faces, all ogling with bated breath. Ace is watching and so is Deuce, albeit through the cracks in his hands.

"What did you hope to achieve—to prove—by defying me?" he demands, his grip a deadly vise. "That I could be in the wrong? That all I've worked tirelessly for, all that I've done, is wrong?"

"Riddle..." You wince in your futile attempt to pull away. "Riddle, please... I... I'm sorry, but please... You're hurting me..."

He turns your head towards him, eyes ablaze with a furious tempest, and he leans closer, pinning you with startling ease. His cock presses up against your insides, enveloped tightly in your walls, and you shudder through the discomfort and the agony. A single claw traces dangerously close to your jugular.

"Speak up if you have something to say!"

"It hurts!" You gasp again, outright sobbing now. "It hurts! Please..."

"It's a punishment," he sneers, glaring disapprovingly. "It's meant to impart a lesson—one learned through pain. If you understand this, stop sniveling and respond appropriately."

You're not sure which is worse: humiliation at the hands of someone you considered a friendly acquaintance or the fact that, no matter how villainous he may be, you only wish for him to return to himself. You'd never wish this fate on anyone, but maybe it's your too-big heart that makes it impossible to hate him. You don't hate him. You can't.

And perhaps that's the worst part of all this.

You hang your head, defeated and devoid of hope. "Yes, Dorm Leader..."

And so he teaches you and all those who witness the devastating spectacle a lesson neither will ever forget.

Red is passionate and fiery, a reflection of roses and redamancy. But it is not a pleasant color. Not anymore. Not in the aftermath.

Red is the color of Riddle and Heartslabyul and blood and pain and anger. And every time you spy the slowly healing marks from that day, you feel it all over you. Red everywhere, inside and out. Externally, you may heal with all matter of magical cures, but internally it's not an easy fix.

So red is no longer a comfortable color. You wish you could look upon it and admire it for what it is: a color. But that proves impossible, for a color that is so highly revered as pretty does not evoke pretty feelings for you.

[leaderpinhead]

Gidel - Lucky Ear Rubs

Prompt: Carnival I've done really well in the past year avoiding any big spoilers for the Playful Land event until it released in English, so I'm completely ignoring everything that may happen post Part 1 of the story. But I also acknowledge I prefer the names on the JPN server, so I'm sticking to Gidel and Fellow Honest for now. :P

Girls were easy targets. At least that’s what Gidel tried to tell himself when he found the girl and her direbeast playing the carnival games. Gidel smirked. While Fellow was handling the older Night Raven College students, Gidel thought he’d handle the easier guests. 

Gidel silently slid up to Yuu’s side. She didn’t look at him, concentrating on the target she soaked with a water shooter. The small whale connected to the target slowly raced across the booth, falling behind the other whales played by “invisible” competitors. Grim cheered her on, hopping across the counter and shouting above the carnival music. The game ended with a loud buzz before her whale reached the finish line. 

“Poor luck,” the marionette manning the booth hollowly lamented. Its stiff limbs woodenly swung a small stuffed fox towards Yuu. “Here’s your consolation prize.” 

Grim growled and snatched the stuffed fox from the marionette's hand. He threw it into the growing pile at his feet. “This game is rigged! How are you supposed to win the big prizes against players that don’t exist?” 

Yuu’s eyes narrowed at the large stuffed animals sitting on a high shelf at the back of the booth. She pointed at the large whale taking up most of the shelf. “You’re mine, Whalebert.” 

Gidel inched closer. He eyed Yuu’s pockets in search of something valuable. The magic of Playful Land may have changed their clothes, but that didn’t mean any of their belongings had vanished. 

“Do it again!” Grim demanded. He jumped on the counter and kicked the water shooter. “If you don’t get it this time, I’ll—Myah! Where did you come from?” 

Gidel smiled when Grim finally saw him. He nearly fell backwards off the counter in his surprise but was saved by Yuu. Gidel hoisted his hammer higher on his shoulder and smiled at Yuu. 

“Hi there,” Yuu greeted. She dropped Grim onto the ground where he huffed. “You’re just in time. Give me the sacred lucky ear rubs.” 

Before Gidel had a chance to be confused, Yuu gently grabbed his ears. Gidel stiffened, his heart thundering in his chest. Looking as earnest as Fellow performing a high-stakes scam, Yuu gently rubbed his ears. The repetitive motion slowly eased the shot of anxiety he felt. His eyes involuntarily closed. 

“Stop harassing every beastfolk with animal ears and win me that whale!” 

Gidel tensed when he realized he leaned his entire weight against Yuu. He jerked back and gripped his hammer like he was prepared to clobber her. She didn’t seem to notice his attack stance and instead turned to grab the handles of the water shooter. 

A bell dinged to signal the start of the game, and Yuu’s whale bobbed along the track after the other whales. Gidel lowered his hammer and watched her whale take the lead. It traded places with another whale for the first half of the track before it pulled ahead and stayed there until it reached the other side of the track. Upbeat carnival music blasted from the booth, and the marionette performed a little dance to announce the winner. 

Grim cheered and jumped onto the counter again to accept the large whale. Gidel knew the game was rigged—the booths in the park ensorcelled to let real players win after a few losses—but he couldn’t help smiling when Yuu turned back to him. He stiffened when she suddenly grabbed him in a hug. “The lucky ear rubs strike again!” 

“Stop harassing the kid!” 

“You’re just upset because your ears have lost all their luck.” 

Grim harrumphed and marched over to the next game booth, holding the whale high above his head. Yuu released Gidel from the hug and leaned down to grab the other toys they had won. For a moment, Gidel had the oddest yearning to lean back into the girl. He didn’t realize he was leaning closer until she looked back up at him, and their noses bonked together. Gidel ducked back and covered his nose. 

Instead of showing any anger, Yuu laughed. “Did you want to help? That’s sweet! Way sweeter than Grim.” 

“Less talking, more winning,” Grim shouted from the next booth. 

Yuu hummed and gathered the remaining toys in her arms. She dumped them on the counter of the water shooting game and moved as if to join Grim. Gidel grabbed the back of her vest and pointed at the toys. She shook her head. “We just wanted Whalebert. Those can go to any of the other visitors in the park. Or you can have one!” 

Gidel stood in frozen shock as Yuu abandoned her winnings to join Grim. He looked back and forth between the pair and the pile of toys. The marionette behind the counter woodenly invited him to play. 

Gidel slowly shuffled over to stand at Yuu’s side opposite of Grim. She smiled at him and pointed at the large donkey hanging above a pyramid of glass milk bottles. “We’ve decided Whalebert needs a friend.” 

“I said we should name it Sir Ass-ington, but Yuu says we can’t!” 

“I’m sure Ace would get a kick out of that, but Trey’s here too, so we have to keep things classy.” 

Gidel glanced between the two as they laughed and began throwing baseballs at the pyramid. He sidled closer to Yuu until their elbows brushed together. Without even looking at him, Yuu used her free hand to pet his ears. He leaned more heavily into her petting and silently cheered with them when they finally won the donkey after their fifth game. 

By the time Fellow came looking for him, Gidel had completely forgotten his original plan and was instead carrying Whalebert under one arm and Sir Donkeyton under the other while totally not taking advantage of their losses to get more “sacred lucky ear rubs.” 

[zeldaelmo]

I guess I need to start promoting this story a bit, seeing it starts in ten days. I could use some motivation for the last stretch, too. I'm struggling a bit, so some encouragement is greatly appreciated. 😆

This is from chapter 10, Link just learned a couple of things that happened during his time in the still world after Zelda beat him in a sparring match with his own tricks.

“So, about your sword. Your echo left it behind and… well, when I took it… I don't know how to explain it. Every time I touched it, a spell fell over me," Zelda explains.

“A spell?”

“That's the best word I can come up with. I suddenly knew how to use it and I assume now my body remembers it, even without the magic.”

Link chewed a moment on that, his gaze flickering over the grasslands stretching out before them. The windmills in the distance must be Kakariko.

“And you just picked it up and let it put a spell on you that changed your bodily abilities?” he asked and returned his gaze to her. Something about this didn't sit right with him. “That happened in the still world, right? Didn't it occur to you that it could have been a trap? Dark magic? It was an evil echo leaving it behind, after all!”

“Don't patronize me,” she snapped. “Did you know what would happen when you fired an arrow at the crystal? Or when you hit Null’s extremities with your sword? No. There's always a certain risk involved with these kinds of things.” She huffed. “And you didn't seem to mind too much when I freed you from the crystal with your bow.”

“I'm not patronizing you,” Link shot back. “I just find it kind of weird that you trust an evil echo of me enough to pick up things it leaves behind and when you get ensorcelled by the item you just roll with it? I mean, didn't you fear the spell could turn on you?”

Her face shifted into a frown, then back to a scowl and she kicked her horse into a sprint. Link’s mouth fell open. It hadn't even occurred to her! 

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

You're Special to Me | Us Too

You’re Special To Me is so? mmm I don’t have the words to describe it but. (it’s really good) (all your fics are really good but this one just hit the spot for whatever reason) …any plans for a second part with more comfort than hurt? where the others realize what they’ve been doing to Remus and make it up to him (and summon a mattress from the room and have a cat pile sleepover)? – anon

All I've got to say is: touch-starved Remus. That's it. In anything. Just poor Dukey needing a damn hug. (/nf) – anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: none

Pairings: none

Word Count: 3323

The others have a nasty habit of comparing Roman and Remus. It starts to get grating after a while. Good thing Roman's always thought his brother was the best.

 

Logan comes up to him when he's in the Imagination weeding Ollie's pond. The Kraken rumbles and shifts in the water, making the reflection dance as he turns to see a figure with a large bag over its shoulder emerge from the mist. He stands up and wipes his hands on his overalls.

"Lolo? Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me." Logan finally steps out of the fog, holding one hand in front of his face as if to shield his glasses. "My apologies for intruding, but Roman said I might find you here."

"You found me, good job. Did you want something?"

"I was hoping we could talk."

A cool greyness far starker than the surrounding fog starts to creep into the edge of Remus's vision. "Talk? What about?"

"It's come to my attention that I've been very unfair to you. And by that I mean Roman gave me a kind reminder as to what it's like to have your work process judged, verbally or otherwise, and I'm here to make it up to you."

Remus blinks. Logan is here to what, exactly? And Roman did what? And Logan what? "What?"

Logan sets down the bag on a nearby rock and comes to stand next to Remus, who only then realizes he's wearing over-the-knee muck boots. "It was my fault for assuming that you and Roman would have similar processes because you are both Creativity. My response to realizing my error should not have made you feel as though your process is inferior or inadequate compared to Roman's."

"O-oh. Uh, I don't think you meant it, but, um, thanks?"

"Of course."

"Why're you…" He gestures to Logan's everything. "This?"

"Well, I was hoping we could have another brainstorm if you were feeling up to it—no pressure to say yes, obviously, this was not planned ahead of time—and I brought things to help."

"Help with the brainstorm?"

"Roman had mentioned you were looking to test the salinity of Oliver's pool in case you needed to introduce other creatures to his habitat," Logan explains as he opens the bag and unfolds it to reveal a series of vials and jars held in fabric sleeves, "and so I thought I would—"

"You made this for me?"

Logan pauses, looking up at Remus's disbelieving face. He huffs a laugh. "Yes, Remus, I made it for you. I was intending to leave it with you to do on your own time, but I figured as I had an apology to make—"

"You're forgiven, exonerated, whatever." Remus all but pounces on the bag. "Now shush and help me run some tests. Ollie! Get ready to throw your ball around a lot 'cause we got work to do!"

Logan chuckles and pulls out a notebook as Ollie trills in excitement, already fishing around in the kelp for his ball.

2.

"You got your gloves, right?"

Roman flexes his hand—his already gloved hand—and Remus rolls his eyes. "It's okay, I'm excited too."

"Shut up and let's get going. I want to try and have this ready for the afternoon."

"Shutting up!" Roman opens the Imagination door with a flourish and they walk out into a sunny field of lavender. The smell is nearly overpowering; if it weren't so pleasant, Remus might offer Roman something to plug his nose with, that's how strong it was. The last time his nose had been so thoroughly ensorcelled had been when— "Re? You okay?"

Remus blinks and sniffles. "Yeah. Sorry. Smell got me remembering Willow."

Roman joins him in the quiet as they walk through the field, both of them remembering the baby dragon that loved the flower fields so much when she was still a hatchling. The dragon had grown up and flown off to the Cloud Kingdom, somewhere high up in the Imagination that they could only get to on the back of Roman's dragon—so they didn't go very often anymore. The lavender rustles around their legs and does a great job of cheering them up when they finally find a spot to gather the plants.

"How much do we need?"

"Let's try and fill these baskets if we can, I think we need to have enough for both the glaze and the cake itself."

"Sure." Roman nudges him as they crouch down. "This was a really good idea, Re, I'm glad you suggested it."

"Thanks for coming with me."

"Oh, shoot—" Roman pats his pockets and stands up. "I think I forgot the stopwatch."

"You mean the one that we take into the Imagination each time so we remember what time it is in the rest of the Mindscape? That one? The really important one that we keep on the hook by the door—"

Roman cuffs him half-heartedly on the shoulder. "I'll be right back, you asshole."

"Love you too, Roro."

Roman walks back down the rows of the field as Remus gets to work. He doesn't bother with the gloves, not at first. His hands spend too often smelling of Kraken slime and other gross things, which normally he doesn't mind, but if he has the chance to smell of lavender instead, he'll take it. He falls into a soothing rhythm of plucking and pruning, the basket at his side growing slowly fuller, until a shadow falls across his lap.

"Ro, you're back, did you…?"

He trails off when he looks up and sees someone who is decidedly not Roman.

"…Pat-Pat?"

"Hey, Remus!" Patton looks around. "This place is really pretty. Did you and Roman make it?"

"Yeah." The flowers start to grey a little at the edges. "Did you see him on your way in? Is he almost back?"

"Yeah, I, um, passed him in the hall." He suddenly looks sheepish, fiddling with the sleeves of the hoodie tied around his shoulders. "He agreed to give me a few minutes to apologize to you."

"To what?"

"I'm not very nice to you," Patton says bluntly, "I know I'm not. It was—Roman was really upset with me over the whole baking thing. I didn't know—I didn't realize how it felt that I basically bossed you around for the whole time and you didn't even get to make what you wanted."

"…so you're apologizing for it?"

"Yeah, I am. I'm sorry, Remus, I was mean to you and it wasn't your fault."

"Uh, thanks." He drops another lavender leaf into his basket. "I appreciate that."

"Are you guys making something will all the lavender?"

"Yeah, we're gonna make a tea cake."

Patton claps his hands. "Ooh, that sounds really good! Can I help at all, or should I just wait?"

"I think you'd better wait, Patton, too many cooks and all that," Roman's voice comes over Patton's shoulder and Remus thanks everything he's ever made that his brother knows how to say the stuff he wants to say in the way where no one actually gets mad at him. "But we'll be sure to save you a big slice!"

Patton claps his hands and squeezes Roman in a hug before he's leaving the Imagination. Remus holds his breath until the door closes and then sags into Roman.

"I'm sorry," Roman murmurs, "I didn't realize he'd…I thought that'd be easier on you than it seems like it was."

"It's fine, it's not your fault. He's just a lot sometimes."

"Yeah, he is. But on the good side, I'm pretty sure that means you and I have free run of the kitchen all afternoon."

"Can we make him regret it slightly?"

"Oh, we can make him regret it way more than slightly—"

"Yes."

"—with how good this tea cake is."

Remus pouts and Roman laughs.

3.

"You look sad," comes Janus's voice from beside him as arms wrap around his waist, "so you're getting cuddled now."

Remus just turns his face into the crook of Janus's neck and breathes out, long and slow. Janus hums, setting his chin on top of Remus's neck and rubbing his back. They shift around a little to get elbows out of ribcages and knees out of groins before Janus starts scratching his hand through Remus's hair. Which isn't fair, and he knows it, because it always makes Remus want to tell him what's wrong, even when he doesn't want to.

Like now.

"I'm so tired," he whispers, the words leaving him with no small amount of shame, "I'm just so—I want it to stop."

"Want what to stop, sweetie?"

"This," he mumbles and bonks his head against Janus's chest, "this, this thing in my brain that won't shut the fuck up, I want it to go away and leave me alone."

"Do you want to tell me what it's saying?"

"No."

Janus pauses, then shifts up enough to press his mouth against the crown of Remus's head. "You be quiet in there, you here me? Don't make me put my angry gloves on."

The reference to a set of gloves Remus had made when they were younger, complete with snarling mouths that opened up when the palm was exposed, makes him laugh. Janus chuckles along with him, kissing his forehead and holding him a little tighter.

"You're doing so well, sweetie. Everything is a lot right now and you're dealing with it as best you can. You're going to be okay."

"I'm really tired, Janny."

"Then sleep." He shifts underneath him to lie down properly, Remus arranged atop him like some great weighted blanket. "You're nice and warm and I am excellent at cuddling. Have a nap."

"Right here?"

"Yes, on this couch, where we're both safe, where I can take care of you and steal all of that body heat you and Roman hoard to yourselves." Another kiss to his temple. "Do you want a blanket too?"

"Yeah."

A quick snap of Janus's fingers and there's a thick green comforter resting on top of them, not too heavy, not too hot, just enough weight and cover that some part of Remus actually relaxes underneath it. His eyes begin to drift closed against his will, something he knows Janus realizes by the slightly smug turn in the air.

"Shh, now," comes the soft voice, "that's it, sweetie, just go to sleep. It's alright, everything's alright, you're safe with me, I'll take care of you."

"I don't know when the last time someone hugged me who wasn't Roman was."

Janus is quiet for a minute. Then: "I hope you know I'm not letting you out of here until dinner time, and maybe not even then."

"Okay."

"And I might kidnap you to warm up my room since I've been getting cold falling asleep."

"Okay."

"And I might have to get Virgil to help me too."

"…okay."

"As long as you're aware of what's about to happen, sweetie."

"Mm."

4.

Janus does end up telling Virgil, which is how he ends up with a heavy lapful of Emo one evening when they're all lazing around before movie night. He'd sat down on the couch to finish digesting the insane about of spaghetti he'd managed to eat during dinner, and yelped when something landed on his lap, sighed, and squirmed around to get comfortable.

"Virgil?"

"Hey, Remus." Virgil grins up at him. "You don't get to be mad about me surprising you when that's literally all you do to us."

"I wasn't—okay, maybe slightly," he amends when Virgil gives him a look, "but…it's not like you do this, not to me."

"Yeah, well." Virgil shifts a bit more and one hand comes up to clumsily pat Remus's shoulder. "You and I haven't been around each other that much lately. I gotta make up for lost time and all that stuff."

"You do?"

Something flickers across Virgil's expression and he sits up, his face only a few inches from Remus's. "Yeah, Remus. We were—not as close as you and Janus were, but we were close. You used to sneak into my room to put on crazy shadow puppet shows and I used to run to you when I was scared of the thunder. And then I…left, and we haven't really been that close since."

"Because you made everyone think we didn't like each other."

He winces. "Yeah, I know. But I—hmm. I'm really trying to be better about that, Remus, I am. I really did miss you."

"You did?"

"Yeah." Virgil quickly glances around and leans closer. "Don't tell anyone about this, okay?"

"Okay."

"The reason I started picking on Princey at first was because he reacted kinda like you did when I pushed Janus's buttons. He got all uppity and loud and it made me think of how you'd always pretend to be some weird knight riding to Janus's defense whenever I pissed him off."

Remus's cheeks flushed. He'd forgotten about that, when Virgil was being a pest and Janus was running out of patience, he'd jump in between them and start a play fight with Virgil to defuse the tension and get everyone laughing again. To hear—well, he'd known that Virgil got close to Roman for similar reasons—but something like this? Just because he missed Remus? And here he was thinking that Virgil was thanking his lucky black holes that he was away from Remus.

"I didn't know."

"I know you didn't," Virgil says, his voice softer now, "and I know you didn't think I cared enough to notice you were touch starved."

"Well—I—I didn't—I only—Janny said—"

"Janus said, Roman said, I thought." Virgil flops back down onto his lap, burying his face in his stomach as he wraps his arms around Remus's waist. "You get cuddles because you need them, and I give them to you 'cause I spent too many years pretending I didn't wanna."

"That was mean," but it's weak as Remus starts to sag into the warm embrace.

"I know, bud, and I'm done with being mean to you. Now we just get along unless we're play fighting, deal?"

Remus nods back, but his voice is too shot to make anything close to a reasonable response, and Virgil doesn't seem to mind.

5.

He's having another bad day when Roman sinks into his room and carts him back off to the Imagination, this time picking one of their favorite rooms in the high castle. It's all warm grey stone and warm wooden floorboards that've been sitting in the sun all day, pillows and blankets tossed about the room for making temporary mattresses. He sags into Roman's side and refuses to budge when Roman insists on getting some of the blankets and pillows.

"In a second," he laughs as Remus whines in protest, "just let me go for two seconds and you'll be happier, I promise."

Remus pouts but does wait the few seconds for Roman to throw something together. Then he just lifts his arms like he's a toddler asking to get picked up. Which he does, and he's tossed unceremoniously onto the pile of pillows. He bounces and Roman laughs at his surprised face.

"Come on, no pouting," he teases, lying down in the blankets too and pulling Remus into a cat pile, "let's just enjoy the sunset, okay?"

Imagination sunsets are the best. There are always a ton of pretty colors, always enough strategically placed clouds to keep you from being entirely blinded, and they last for just as long as you want them to. The one today they can see through the wide windows of the high tower is no exception. Rich blues and purples chase the reds and pinks around the sky, the clouds airbrushed with the most delicate versions of the colors as the sun slowly descends over the hills. There's no risk of mugginess this high up, nor any biting insects thanks to the constant breezes around the top of the tower. Remus feels his eyelids growing heavier and heavier as he sinks into Roman's embrace.

"Hey," Roman whispers and he hums something in reply, "you're the best brother ever, you know that?"

"No, you."

"No, you." Roman squeezes him around the middle and presses a gross, smacking kiss to his cheek. "And I love you."

"Don't get all sappy, Ro."

"Sunsets are sappy times, Re! Besides, you've had a really long day and that means getting cuddles while I tell you how much I love you 'cause you're a great brother."

"You mean it's the time you try to kill me with sap overload."

"Semantics."

Remus swats half-heartedly at him and his drama queen of a brother yelps like he's been struck with a whip, but he can't keep the smile off his face.

Roman loves me. He really, really loves me.

It would be a very different world if he didn't have such an amazing brother.

+1.

There are still bad days where he doesn't feel like getting out of bed or talking to someone who isn't his brother.

There are more good days. Days like this, where he gets to spend it surrounded by his family.

"Shush," Virgil mumbles, swatting Logan's leg with a pillow as he tries to go on another rant about a certain trope that Remus never caught the name of, "it's sleep time."

"You're going to fall asleep on the floor?"

"Right, good point. Princey?"

"Coming right up." Roman snaps his fingers and the familiar giant mattress appears in the middle of the living room, much to the delight of Virgil and Janus, who both sprawl onto it like overgrown kittens.

"You both need to make some room," Remus grunts as he shoves at an errant leg, "c'mon, let the rest of us on."

"Ooh, I want Remus cuddles today," Virgil mumbles, only for Janus to snatch him. "Hey!"

"Too slow."

"Children," Logan scolds, reaching out and ruffling Remus's hair with a wink, "I could've sworn we talked about consensually abducting cuddle victims."

"I'll fight you for him," Virgil declares, already reaching for a pillow, but Patton grabs it instead. "Hey!"

"No," Janus whines as Patton joins in the playful fight for Remus cuddles—when Remus himself is more bemused than anything else and Roman and Logan are just smiling, the useless wonderful bastards— "get your own Remus! This one's mine!"

"That's all of our Remus, you have to share!"

"Yeah, give us each a limb or something."

"No, I want the torso!"

"I want the head," Logan remarks casually with another wink when Remus blushes, "but I think Roman would prefer we kept his brother intact as much as possible."

"You can share," Remus gasps out eventually when he's getting battered with pillows, "I wanna cuddle all of you!"

"Well, if that's what he wants—"

"Who are we to say no?"

Janus just chuckles as the four of them quickly make themselves at home in the middle of the blanket, arms slung over Remus until he can't quite tell whose limbs are whose. But the warm pressure and familiar scents of all of them right here, safe, under the blankets are sending the everything good, sleep now signals that his brain is having a hard time ignoring.

So maybe he won't ignore them and he'll just fall asleep.

He makes eye contact with Roman before his eyes slip closed properly and the last thing he sees is Roman's soft grin.

There will be good days, there will be bad days.

But Remus never feels truly grey ever again and for that, he's happy.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[mariyekos]

Maleagant and Siegfried's relationship is so interesting and Maleagant's Fate Episode has brought back a bunch of my old headcanons regarding Siegfried's past and kind of makes me want to try my hand at my first GBF fic (which I would need to do a ton of reseaech for so it's probably not happening, but what if...)

Basically, I think it would be fascinating if Siegfried's memories really only crystallize/become firm at the point he met King Josef, with everything before that being more like vague awareness than true memories. That's the point where his life got "true purpose" if you asked him, so he definitely remembers everything from then on.

But the years before? Well, he was killing monsters around the village, yeah. He remembers fighting. Killing. But did he bring the corpses back for bounties? He...might have? He's not really sure. Maybe not, he msotly did it for the thrill of the fight and because that's just something you do. Did someone ask him to kill monsters at some point? Well, of course they did. Who? Can he name someone specific? Does he remember any requests in particular? ....No, not exactly. But he's pretty sure he talked to a few people often. Pretty sure. What year did he end up at his childhood village? Well- he. He. He was there as a teenager, he knows. He remembers that, vaguely. Does he remember being a child there? Well, it's his childhood village! But does he remember being there as a child, or does he just call it his childhood village because that's where he thinks he grew up? (It's the latter).

The fic would basically be about Maleagant growing increasingly concerned as he realizes just how spotty Siegfried's memories are. Some of the gaps in Siegfried's past are things he's briefly thought about but decided he wasn't very concerned about, while other gaps have never come to mind and seem to throw him off once he realizes they're there. The two would go around the village only to discover that the villagers' memories are ALSO really spotty for some reason, only increasing Maleagant's concern. Yes, the former mayor says he remembers Siegfried taking care of the local monster population. But hm, that's odd, he can't remember when exactly it was that Siegfried showed up. But he's pretty sure he remembers Siegfried being around as a teenager. He thinks. And so Maleagant and Siegfried go around town asking other folks about whether they remember how old Siegfried was when he showed up, whether he was dropped off by someone anyone saw, when he first appeared, if he had any notable clothing or possessions or accents or anything else, etc. only to come up with the same few answers in every single case: I don't remember, I'm not sure, or I don't know. Sure there are tons of people who remember Siegfried being there, and some say he was definitely there as a teenager and might've been there as a kid, but no one can give specifics. It's as if Siegfried just suddenly materialized out of the aether and everyone accepted his existence as if he'd always been there or something.

Which is the crux of the matter: DID Siegfried just suddenly appear one day? Was it as a child? A teen? Where was he before? More importantly: why can no one remember. There's clearly something magical/supernatural going on here. I'm trying to decide of Siegfried would joke about or be generally concerned about the idea that maybe he just sprung out of nowhere fully formed and the world bent to make him fit in, but it's sort of a genuine possibility. Where did he come from? Where are the others with dragon lineage?

I think Maleagant might start worrying Siegfried was captured and either experimented on or just imprisoned and ensorceled into not remembering his time beforehand, based on his own history. And if that is the case, does that mean Siegfried doesn't have any family left? That the number of those with dragon blood has grown so small? What if they all died in imprisonment, or if they died years before while Siegfried was kept suspended in a way similar to Maleagant? Siegfried would reassure Maleagant that that's probably not the case; Siegfreid just has a bad memory, and after ten, twenty years the people of his village have just naturally forgotten the details of their encounters with a forgettable man. To which Maleagant would insist Siegfried is very much *not* forgettable and there has to be *something* going on here. It's not just memory. But Siegfried would shrug it off. He's not that concerned about his past; he knows where he is in the present and that's what matters. He hopes no one got hurt in his past and that his lack of memory won't hurt anyone, but he's not too concerned about figuring out his own origins. He's survived just fine so far.

Maleagant, however, isn't appeased. He *will* figure out what the mystery with Siegfried's past is. Fafnir's blood may prevent him from reading Siegfried's memories, but maybe reading the memories of the villagers would be tempting (assuming he somehow got their permission to read from them, which is its own issue). Potential plot point of either absolutely nothing coming up/the memories being unnaturally foggy when Maleagant tries to read them, or them basically confirming the 'Siegfreid just suddenly Appeared One Day and everyone accepted him as if he'd already been there' theory.

Also while there is the experimentation/capture explanation, I would also really enjoy a purely supernatural/magical explanation without foul play. Feendrache needed someone, so it crafted someone to protect it, based on its protectors of eld. I swear there's a word for the people with dragon blood but it's nearly 1am and my brain's not working well, but anyway- yeah basically he DID pop out of the aether. He doesn't really have parents, or if he did, then it's because he's based on someone who once existed and had parents, but even then they're not really *his* parents, because his existence is separate from the original. Siegfried just Is. Formed, not born. Absent of childhood memories because there was no childhood at all, or because even if he was created as an infant his first years were accelerated enough to be glossed over. Aged up until the point of usefulness or being able to protect himself. Something like that.

One of the things Maleagant asks Siegfried when trying to figure out his past is how old Siegfried is. Siegfried responds he's 32 (or older, if we make it so the story exists in less of a time bubble). When Maleagant asks how Siegfried knows this, as in does he remember any birthday parties or just knowing he was X age in his childhood, Siegfried pauses. Because no, actually. He doesn't. And as Maleagant stares him down, Siegfried awkwardly explains that when King Josef met him, Josef said something along the lines of "Hm, you look like you're what, 21? 22?" and Siegfried said yes, which had him put down as 22. He can't remember a time where he thought about his own age before that. Was he actually 22? Or did he just agree with Josef?

Okay it's late so I'm going to stop for now but. Tl;Dr Maleagant tries to investigate Siegfried's past only to realize it's very shady in ways Siegfried at times didn't care about and times didn't even notice due to what appears to be some sort of supernatural meddling/influence to specifically not think about these things very long (that goes beyond Siegfried's propensity to not worry about this stuff). Maleagant does not end up finding any living relatives. It's not super happy, it's more of a "oh something is UP with Siegfried and it's disturbing Maleagant while Siegfried tries to calm him down" fic. In the morning I might refine this but. Yeah. GBF dragons and dragon people, man....

[noodyl-blasstal]

ooooooooh how about Tiny child in awe of you in a public space and whoever calls to you!

This got real silly real fast and I'm probably even a little sorry about it! Thank you so much Reeese! The prompt is from this list and I’m still open to requests.

-

“Why are you doing that face?”

“What face?”

“You know, the…” Taako scrunches his face up in his best approximation of Kravitz’s weird smile.

“It was happening again.”

Ah, that explains it. “Goth baby?” 

“Goth baby.” Kravitz nods solemnly, gestures to her with his eyes. “I thought I’d try and commune.”

Sweet, wonderful idiot. “Did it work?”

“Maybe?” Kravitz sounds uncertain. “Although. No. I don’t think so. Maybe I need to try something more clear?”

“How about a hand shake?” 

“Oh, of course, how rude of me.” Kravitz begins to walk forward and Taako yanks his arm back.

“Just checking, handsome, just picking up the phone to ask you a quick question, were you just about to walk over to that stranger’s baby, hold out a hand, and do the whole “‘ello it’s me, the grim reaper, wanna shake me ‘and?” bit?”

“No?”

“No question mark; or no full stop?”

“No full stop?”

“Cha’boy’s still hearing the query in there, bones.”

Kravitz sighs heavily. “I… I was going to do that, yeah. I might not have done the accent though.” He adds, optimistically.

“Babies love the accent.” There’s no point in denying it.

“You’re right, of course you’re right, I… yes I would have done that.”

Taako rests a soothing hand on his shoulder. “I’d let you shake my baby’s hand.” He says, reassuringly.

Kravitz breaks eye contact with the ensorceled baby and raises an eyebrow at Taako. “You didn’t let me interact with Angus at all for months! We only got to speak when he figured out we were dating and came to interrogate me at work.”

“And what did you do when he arrived in your office, Kemosabe? Whatmst did you deign to do when the baby genius himself rocked up in your workplace in his jamjar specs and his fancy hat and said he was there to see you? Hmm?” Taako hasn’t ever asked, he doesn’t need to, he knows it in his bones.

“I shook his hand.” Kravitz says, downcast.

“You shook his hand!” Taako’s triumphant, maybe a touch gloaty, it’s fine, Kravitz likes him like that. Before he can do anything ridiculous like attempting some humility Kravitz stops doing his pondering face.

“Fine. I won’t shake hands with the baby.” 

Taako doesn’t want to ruin it entirely. “You could try waving.” He suggests.

“What kind of wave?”

“Fancy one.” Taako demonstrates.

“Like this?” Kravitz waggles his fingers dramatically at Taako.

“I think you can do better.” Taako does a trick shot, passing a hand behind his back to wave from one side.

Kravitz snorts, but spins round on the spot then waves back. Perfect man. “Okay.” He takes a moment to think. “How about…” he waves in a sweeping motion, then circles back up the other side to form a full greeting circle.

“I like it. See if the kid does.”

Kravitz waggles his fingers in a fancy circle. The baby remains stone faced, she doesn’t break her stare.

“I don’t think she liked it.” Kravitz shrugs, pocketing his hands as if they might try again if he doesn’t holster them.

Taako shrugs. “Her loss.”

Kravitz nods. “Yeah… you’ll wave back at me no matter what, right?”

“Natch, Taako wouldn’t leave you hanging.”

[hexcrystals]

I'm glad Izzy's dead BUT I will forever regret not getting one particular scene. Izzy canonically thinks that Ed and Stede have been banging since at least the Run Me Through moment on-deck and possibly longer. And that Ed is the ensorcelled victim of Stede's magic dick. I would have loved for the proverbial penny to drop for Izzy that at that the time when Ed renounced Blackbeard/piracy/every cornerstone of his life with Izzy to save Stede's life, he had never even touched Stede's lips with his own, let alone had carnal knowledge of him. That THAT's how much he loved Stede and would never love Izzy. Imagine the look on Izzy's face, Ed risking it all for a man he'd never even kissed.

anon i have a post you're gonna enjoy lemme just find it

okay after a long and bloody battle with tumblr's abysmal search function i've finally dug it up

but yes you're so right. ed fell so hard so fast. the relief on his face when stede wins the duel against izzy. the way there's not even any question of whether he'll leave with izzy/advocate for izzy to stay/etc - he just stays with stede

and now he gets to stay with stede. forever. and izzy can't get them anymore. that's a love story babey

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 78: Oliver's Awakening

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: aftermath of mind control, discussion of abuse

October 1925

Oliver writhed on the ground, his chest as tight as a drum and tears squeezing from his eyes, as all the fear and pain and shame that had been suppressed the past few months flooded him.

He'd been content, so content to give up his own life to become the servant of a vampire, hardly even struggling as he was taken and confined and ensorcelled. He'd enjoyed the vile feedings, looking forward to the vampire drinking away his blood, pleased to slump over in the vampire's arms as his life was drained, satisfied with the twin scars on his neck. He'd cheerfully allowed the vampire to pass him around like a party favor to his lover, to curl up around him as he slept, to dress him up in ball gowns and take him to vampire dens to show off…

But truly, it wasn't the shame that hurt the most -- that was just the easiest of his emotions to understand. No, the worst of it was the profound sense of emptiness. It was if Alexander's music had filled something within him he hadn't known was empty. It had given him a purpose, even if it was to follow the selfish whims of a monster, and now he was devoid. Knowing intellectually that it had never been a real purpose, just enslavement, didn't ease the sting of his heart.

Vivian crouched down and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Oliver, I know it's a lot to process. It might take days or weeks --"

"You don't know!" Oliver wrenched backwards to get away from her, furious. "You don't know what you just took. You can't!"

"I know it must hurt --"

"If you knew it would hurt like this, then why did you do it against my wishes?" Oliver demanded.

"Oliver!" Emily was standing nearby. "She was just trying to help. It's not fair to yell at her like that."

"It's not fair that I feel like this!"

"Leave him alone," said Vivian. "Let him scream at me if he wants. He's coming out of a much deeper enthrallment than you were in, Emily. It won't be easy."

"That's not true," she said indignantly. "I could barely talk, couldn't remember my past, wasn't even literate any more."

"Yes, and that's relatively easy for a vampire to do. What's been done to Oliver is far more precise and insidious, to keep him so intact on the surface while bending his desires and loyalties completely."

"Do you mind talking about me as though I'm not even here?" Oliver hated how angry he was, how he couldn't control the harshness of his voice. He was never angry, never so much as raised his voice at a difficult customer, not before he was captured. Even then, his anger had been weak, easily plucked out of his head by that damned Miss Lily. He felt sick to think of himself drowsing in her company, letting her rummage through his very mind, throw out anything she didn't like, and replacing his truth with a pretty painted facade.

"I'm sorry," said Vivian. "I know you're upset with me, but this is important. Can you still feel the connection with your former master?"

"No. It's been severed. I can't hear him anymore."

"That's good. With a vampire that powerful, it's likely that your connection is actually only weakened, not entirely destroyed. He may try to enter your head again, draw you under his sway."

Oliver nodded, ashamed that a part of him hoped he would, that Alexander's music would dull the pain. No, he would have to resist somehow. He couldn't go through all of this heartache for no reason, to go merrily skipping back into the arms of a vampire. Vivian's magic had stripped away the illusion, revealed the monster behind the handsome face.

"I'll try to resist," said Oliver shakily.

"Good, that's good. If you hear his voice, you need to tell me immediately, all right? I can help protect you, or wash out his influence again if we need to," she said. "It's my fault for not killing him when I had the chance. I was a coward. And now I'll have to plan to go after him again, before he hunts me down."

"Don't kill him!" Oliver's fervor surprised even him.

"Oliver, you'll never be safe until I do."

"I know that, but -- I don't want him to die. Maybe I should want him to die, maybe I'm still under his spell, but I can't bring myself to want him to die," he said, not understanding why he felt so strongly about this when he knew Alexander's true nature.

"He took you from your bookshop, remember?" said Emily. "The whole time we were in those cages -- at least, before Lily warped our minds -- that's all you could talk about, was your bookshop and how you had to return there. Don't you want to?"

His bookshop, and the tiny apartment above. His little safe haven, where he'd spent his entire life. The antique books locked behind the counter, the sagging shelves of the history section, the ratty armchair with the throw blankets that might still be waiting for him.

"I can't go back there," he said. "Alexander was one of my customers. He'd find me easily."

"That's why I have to kill him," said Vivian.

Mounting horror dawned on Oliver. "But even if you did kill him, it wouldn't do any good, because his sire would find out and hunt us both down. I'm sure of it."

"His sire? A vampire that powerful, and he's still beholden to his sire?"

"He's a terrifying vampire." The fear, which had been acute before, was now so much more sharp without Alexander's soothing influence. He could remember the feel of harsh fangs in his neck all too well, the panic of being unable to open his eyes. "Far more terrifying than Alexander could ever be. Alexander once told me that if we ever tried to escape him, he'd hunt us both down and make sport of it, and I believe him."

"It can't be…" Vivian muttered. "Tell me more about him, your former master's sire."

As much as Oliver didn't care to recall those memories, Vivian might actually be able to help. "I'll tell you whatever information I have. I'd be happy to see him die, and Alexander would, too. I don't know his real name, but they all call him the Maestro --"

"You've met him?" She gripped his shoulders like a madwoman. "You've actually met the Maestro?"

"Unfortunately, yes. You've heard of him?"

"He took my mother. He's the vampire I need to kill more than any other. You must tell me everything you know about him."

"I'm sorry about your mother," he said. "I can tell you everything I've learned about him, if you agree that you won't kill Alexander."

"Even if I were convinced you truly meant that and it wasn't just residual conditioning, I couldn't agree to that. Alexander is likely to come after me for taking you, and if he does, I need to be able to defend myself."

"I suppose that's true," said Oliver reluctantly. He didn't want to admit to himself that it would be ideal if Vivian were to kill the Maestro but spare Alexander, so that he would have the option of returning to the vampire without the threat of his sire hanging over their heads.

No, he must still be under the spell. He shouldn't return to Alexander under any circumstances, not if he wanted to keep a free thought in his head.

"You need to tell me," Vivian insisted. "Revenge on the Maestro is one of the main reasons I became a hunter in the first place. It wasn't just my mother who suffered. He's killed at least twenty hunters, and he's believed to have kidnapped a number of musicians and stage performers. He needs to be stopped."

"He does." Oliver sighed, feeling that tiny bit of leverage slip. "All right. I'll tell you what I know."

He tried to recall everything he could for Vivian's sake -- everything Lex had told him, and especially recounting his own experiences with the cruel vampire. Emily sat nearby, her eyes going wide with horror as Oliver described his blinding and the painful feeding. Vivian, on the other hand, was absorbing all of Oliver's words carefully.

"So when he controlled you -- was there any sort of induction he had to perform? Any conditions he had to meet?"

"I don't think so, or at least I don't remember any. Alexander didn't mention any either. He was able to puppet my body as easily as if I were a toy, and there didn't seem to be any way to resist it."

"Hm. That's going to be trouble," said Vivian, deep in thought. "And when he stopped you from opening your eyes again -- how long did it take for that enthrallment to wear off?"

"It didn't. The next day, Alexander took me to Miss -- to another vampire's home, one that specializes in hypnotizing humans, and she reversed the Maestro's command."

"A specialist in hypnotizing humans? Lily?"

"You know her too?"

"Yes, I'm aware of her."

"Are you going to kill her, too?"

"I really should, considering how many people's minds she's destroyed -- or are you going to defend her as well?"

"…No." Truthfully, he felt more conflicted about it than he should, given that Vivian was objectively correct. How many human minds had she stolen? How many lives had she cut short, selling innocent people off to vampires with nothing more than glee about her profits? She was the one who had twisted his mind, and all those feelings of comfort and warmth as he slept in her chair were nothing more than lies to keep him docile.

"So do have any idea where the Maestro lives?"

"No, I'm sorry. Those are the only two times I encountered him, and Alexander never mentioned where he lives, from what I can recall."

Vivian sighed. "It's a pity. But even so, you've given me far more information than I had yesterday, and I'm grateful for it."

"You know… both you and Alexander want the Maestro dead. Could you ever consider working together?" asked Oliver.

"Working with a vampire?"

"Only this one specific time, only to kill an even worse vampire!"

"I can't do that," said Vivian. "Even if we do have the same goal. Fighting a vampire as formidable as the Maestro would leave me vulnerable, and I can't trust that this Alexander wouldn't simply enthrall me afterwards. In fact, he'd be stupid not to, lest I kill him."

Oliver wanted to protest that Alexander wouldn't do that… except that Alexander might actually do that. After all, he had no qualms at all about buying a human at auction, even a human he previously knew as an equal. Why would he hesitate to enthrall a hunter?

"Come on," said Vivian, helping him off the floor. "We can talk more about this later. You've been through a lot tonight, and need more time to shake off the spell you've been under. We have a room that you can use, but I'm going to have to lock you in, and keep you under surveillance for now, at least until we're sure that your vampire isn't going to try and push himself into your head again."

"Fine," he said, accepting that Vivian didn't trust him. He didn't even trust himself. "Why can he still do that, if you've undone the enthrallment?"

"There's a psychic connection established when a vampire drinks your blood. It's not quite the same thing as enthrallment, and it can be very strong. It fades in days or weeks, but until then, you'll still be vulnerable to the vampire's influence."

"I see." He wondered if that applied to any vampire which had fed from him. If it did, that meant -- "But the Maestro, he…"

"Yes," she said grimly. "Has he ever entered your mind before, when he's not there in person?"

"I don't think so. I hope not."

"I hope not either. I'm not prepared to fight him just yet. If you sense anything, you need to tell me right away."

"Yes, of course."

Vivian led Oliver out of the attic and into a room little bigger than a closet, with a cot and a small chest of drawers. "You should get some rest," she said, herding Oliver inside. "You'll feel better once you have. Is there anything you need?"

"A glass of water, please?" asked Oliver, sitting on the edge of the cot. "And if you have any interesting books…"

"Certainly. I'll see what I can do."

Oliver waited patiently for Vivian to return with the water and a couple of old magazines. As soon as she left the room and he heard the lock click shut, he fell back onto the bed, knowing that he wouldn't even be able to concentrate on reading, not with all the thoughts crowding his head.

He was free.

Wasn't he?

It was terribly hard to feel free when he was locked into a small room, the threat of his vampiric master and his sire still hanging over his head like an executioner's axe. The confinement was for his own safety, and he understood the reasons, but he wouldn't actually be free until both Alexander and the Maestro had ceased to walk the earth.

He was frustrated with himself. He shouldn't care so much about the well-being of a vampire who had literally purchased him at auction. And yet…

Now that the initial shock and fear had worn off, he was finding himself gripped by a deep and profound sadness. The cot he lay on was hard and cold, and he couldn't suppress his longing for his bed at home -- no, Alexander's bed. It wasn't ever his. He'd been hypnotized to share it, to cuddle up with a monster.

He'd been hypnotized into affection.

And it was really the only affection he'd had since he was a child, wasn't it? He'd lived such a solitary and quiet life, spending almost every night alone in his small apartment with books for company. Even the simple pleasure of curling up to read next to someone else had been foreign to him until he came into Alexander's possession.

And it had all been a fabrication meant to keep him compliant, hadn't it? He shouldn't miss it. He should be glad to be rid of it.

But the thought of returning to his solitary life, of never experiencing actual tenderness, was crushing him inside. He'd been starving for so many years, but it had been bearable when he didn't know what he was missing. Now that he knew that his choice was between actual loneliness and false companionship, he could only be ashamed at the parts of himself which preferred the lie.

No, he had to press on somehow. He couldn't return himself to a monster, no matter how charming. He should be happy to be freed. He could have his own life back. He could sleep during the night and wake during the day, and walk in the sunshine, and choose to go wherever he pleased.

He could take what little money he had stashed in his bookshop and take a train out of town, or a boat overseas, see the new places that he dreamed about but never got around to visiting. He could start his life over, do something else with it. Live a fuller life in the here and now rather than wait in his lonely little bookshop, wait for something to happen to him. Something had happened to him, and it should have taught him a lesson about choosing what he wants before it's chosen for him.

It was exhilarating. But…

For all his newly gained freedom, he still had no idea what he actually wanted. The desire for fangs in his neck was fake, but at least it was a clear desire. What did he want before, apart from books and safety? And who was he now, now that he knew the dangerous world of the supernatural lurked just behind every streetlamp, just waiting to pull him into it?

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Next week: Oliver is not as free as he might have hoped.

I'll also have a Christmas-adjacent self-indulgent vampire story up tomorrow, so please keep an eye out! And vote in the holiday edition of Sedation Vending Machine!

Thanks for reading this story another year, and happy holidays!

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @und3ad-mutt

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

@fuckcapitalismasshole @slightlydisturbedbeans @paperprinxe @demetercabingreen-thumb @the-broken-pen

@pokemaniacgemini @jumpywhumpywriter @basica11ywhumped @anoontjecanush @cepheusgalaxy

@whump-me-harder @whump-till-ya-jump @the-monarch-whumperfly @ium1naryy @wumpbean

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Rhian, drop your morning/night routine!

Rhian: In the morning, I don't "wake up" like most do. Instead, I simply get out of bed since I'm usually up all night attempting to fall asleep. Repose rarely overtakes me, and my mind's always reeling. I may have to commission a sleeping draught from a witch one day.

At this stage of the morning, Rafal is usually still out cold, and it doesn't matter how loud I am, so I listen to the morning Kingdom Council spellcast reports from a mirror I've ensorcelled at full volume and review the Putsi market trends as I start on my routine.

The Gillikin Gazette's updates about its ongoing cathedral construction are my favorites though—its flying buttresses rival Camelot's dated, heavier Romanesque designs. I only manage to catch those reports on Saturdays though since I have to be out of the tower and on my way at an early hour most days. Oh, and I tend to cast a spell, so my bed makes itself while I busy myself with more important tasks.

Firstly, I need my ermine slippers and silk dressing gown. I shower and usually start with a facial, rosewater, or whichever magical cure-all I'm currently using to remove my under-eye shadows with.

Though, Rafal's been a bother about the cucumbers I go through. He thinks I'll drain the Woods' supply and that he won't have any left for his sandwiches. Mind you, that isn't true in the least.

I use charcoal imported from Akgul to remove impurities of the skin, and that's been rather effective as of late. I also ice my pores, page through Maxine's progress reports, and keep tabs on the lackadaisical performers. Tracking's very important at a School like ours, you know.

On some occasions, I do my own makeup, but really, it seems to me that only the Evergirls care if they notice at all. These days, I've been fond of whipped beetroot tinctures and orchid cologne. Then, I arrange my hair, dress suitably for the day's activities in whichever clothes I pressed the night before, and polish my boots. I polish Rafal's too. He doesn't notice or care—thinks we're immune to disease and scrutiny—but he's missing the point. It's about image, of course. And I worry that he'll bring bird mites from his Stymphs indoors, and that would not only be unseemly for a School Master, but a disaster of inordinate proportions, even if our health isn't at risk. Think of the parent complaints we'd receive, if we had an infestation. The picket-lines would never end!

When I head out, Rafal's almost always still asleep, so I bring us back breakfast, and wake him then.

Well, I say "wake him," but rousing him isn't as simple as I've likely led you to believe. By now, it's turned into an awfully elaborate burlesque. I switch mirror channels to the Jaunt Jolie Music Hall's Cricket and Brass orchestra production of the day. If that fails, I bang a ladle on our breakfast's silver cloche over him. And if all else fails, I shout "FIRE," "INVASION," or even "PIRATES" if I'm desperate and running late, and that does the trick. I still haven't figured out if he's been deluding me though, or if it's his dreams that leave him with those horrid little grins.

Yet, this particular song-and-dance of sorts has been more of a recent development. His clarion-belled alarm clock from Geppetto's broke last month, and he hasn't had the time to replace it. The flight's a day's trip, and this new class of Nevers cannot be left alone for more than a day because he's sure there'll be either an outbreak of some pox or of some general pandemonium since he doesn't think I'm capable of maintaining order. I'm more than capable in truth.

We eat then, he in his pajama shorts and shirt and black stockings with the runs I chastise him about throwing out everyday, and me in my typical smart attire.

At the end, I wash up, sit, and wait for him to set the dishes to scrubbing themselves, comb his hair, and dress. After that, we split off to our respective sides for the day, and I see him again at dusk.

"Bye." or "Morning, brother." is as talkative as he gets at this time of day before he vanishes into the Tunnel of Trees or crosses the Halfway Bridge into the smog, unless he has a storybook victory to congratulate himself over or another point to bolster his side of an argument with—arguments I naively believed we'd already put to bed the night before.

After a full day of overseeing classes, Rafal legs it over the window sill when he returns and showers immediately when he gets back. Then, he grades papers and exams. On days when he's exhausted by puppeteering mock battle raids or Storian knows what he subjects those poor children to, he passes out in bed fully-clothed without showering, and showers in the morning.

All the while, I perform my nightly skin- and hair care routines, snuff out the candles, and get in bed with an eye mask, in my attempt to get a good night's sleep, often sooner than he goes to bed because he reads news updates and whatever musty tome he's tearing through late into the night.

Sometimes, I wake in the middle of a night terror and realize he's still up marking or reading or scheming, so I confiscate the candles at that point and force him to sleep. Rarely does he listen, and I've stopped bothering most of the time as he reads by the light of his fingerglow instead, contrary to all sound advice. He doesn't view sleep as necessary seeing as the Storian sustains us, but he has no sleep troubles, so I suppose that's an easy conclusion to form if you're him. The latest remedy I've resorted to is tucking lavender into my pillowcase, but I've had not a drop of luck.

[tothestarsinvelaris]

My unhinged reactions to the chaotic ride that is The Folk of the Air series ((first two books only bc I'm only 30% through The Queen of Nothing soooo ---- no spoilers plsss))

The Cruel Prince Worst Betrayals:

TARYN - MA'AM!!?????!??? You knewww?? you knew Locke was playing both of y'all??? and you weren't even ensorcelled or whatever?!?!? GIRL?! "if you let me seduce your sister in front of you and keep your mouth shut it proves that I love you" I'M sorry?!?!!??? I absolutely cannot. Someone will need to give me some serious break down of why tf I shouldn't jump in there and smack the bitch myself for being so stupid and betraying her sister like that smh ((more on this bs later bc i've made it far enough through TQON to know things))

JUDE!!!!!!!! - Girl why tf are you gonna do my boy Cardan dirty like that???? He finally TRUSTED YOUR ASS okay?! he is clearly a lil bby who has never had a hug and never felt loved and is v much into you so maybe you should be NICE TO HIM (or mean bc hes into that obvs) but like -- you put the damn crown on his head when he SPECIFICALLY ASKED YOU NOT TO?!??????? oof

The Wicked King:

I sat there really trying to figure out who tf betrayed Jude already when Nicasia's jealous ass said that and like I knew it was not my boy Cardan bc he has never done anything wrong in his entire life and he has a plan and reasons and you can't tell me any different okay!? someone ((JUDE)) just hug the damn boy and pat his lil head and tell him everything is gonna be okay pls?? and I knew that boy Locke and stupid idiot Traitor Taryn were sus. Obvs Madoc is a dumb murder bitch so like?? DUH he was gonna do something stupid since you know, he already fucking committed treason. I just sat there from page one waiting for those three to pull some stupid shit to betray Jude and OBVS I WAS RIGHT ! those stupid idiot dumb dumbs can't help themselves but betray Jude! hate them allllllll hate hate hate

but the scream i screamed when the Ghost of all damn people - (me picturing him as some kinda cute lil spy cutie) - called for Jude in that tower and was like "naaaahhh I worked for Dain bitch, not your ass" I'm???? sorrryyy??? betray ME?! the READER OF THIS BOOK?!??! excuse you!

but also the way Cardan was like "tell me you hate me" and "i want to tell you so many lies" and "i'm a sad lil bby and nobody has ever cared about me" and "i trusted you" and "marry me" and "crawl to me" crawl to meee????? sir. and he sent her ass to the mortal world but did not deny her and did not revoke their marriage so likeeee??? jude girly use your damn brain okay babes i know its in there somewhere so pls just get back to your 4D chess game you had in book 1 and realize this man loves you and is trying to PROTECT YOU OKAY ugh!!!!!

Currently reading The Queen of Nothing so like.... doing my damn best to fly through this book so I can finally look at fanart and fandom shit okay? gh