#int. -> seth.

[failbhe]

closed starter for @witchysethharper

With a few hours to kill before his shift and an abundance of unshakable energy, the castle’s gym seemed like the most logical place to waste some time and keep himself healthily occupied – a pledge Cían was hopeful to stick to post-emancipation. The centuries spent under strict regime and schedule had become the norm all too quickly and now that he found the vast majority of his days spent with nothing but free time, Cían was struggling to keep toeing the line of peaceful, respectful boy-next-door. The need for his retrieval services on his mother’s side had been in too short a supply to feel sufficient and with both sides of his being starving to be nurtured now that they were no longer stifled, the hellhound’s default state as of late had become a distinctly uncomfortable mix of irritable and antsy. 

Cían had been so lost to his thoughts that he’d missed the right corridor entirely, too busy scowling at the castle’s floor in a petulant daze as he’d followed what he’d believed to be the usual route, realising far too late that he’d been following Dublin’s castle’s floor plan out of sheer habit; after a while, each castle blended into one in one way or another within the mind when you weren’t at the top of the chain and though he loathed to admit it, his first residence there still felt like some form of home despite the horrors. Shaking his head with a humourless laugh at his own idiocy, Cían took in his surroundings and glanced from door to door and stepped closer to the wall to slowly read the nearest plaque, quietly sounding out the letters until he reached the second letter of the surname and a loud bark of laughter left him involuntarily, realisation and memory entwining in his mind simultaneously as he moved to knock twice on the office door.

He didn’t wait for a response as he let himself in and shut the door behind him to rest his weight against it, taking a moment to study Seth and familiarise himself with the other’s scent. No matter how long ago a hunt was, Cían never really forgot the scent of a former target. There was a distinct charred edge to it now and the noticeable change coaxed a smile to the hellhound's face for a moment – he really had managed to get himself out after all, then, had he? It was an impressive feat, he'd give him that. Cían hadn't been sure if the rumours he'd heard had been entirely true but if the sight before him was anything to go by, they clearly had been. Schooling his expression into something less obviously amused, he watched the magic consultant curiously, a beat of further silence dragging out before Cían remembered that he'd been the one to interrupt the peace. “Seth. Seth Harper. You got a minute?”

[nahimarchive]

closed starter for @witchysethharper

in order to truly understand rhys’ appeal to roland, nahim had chosen to start off gently, scheduling biweekly appointments under the guise of utilising the head magic consultant’s skills in divination to offer a little preternatural advice. the sessions weren’t taxing for either party, more of an excuse to fall into easy conservation and lull the witch into a semi-genuine sense of security. over time, rhys would grow comfortable enough not to notice when the narrative spotlight would inevitably shift to him and nahim could pry at what really made the witch tick. for now, he treated roland’s object of affection with the utmost respect, only drinking from him if offered to do so. whilst rhys hadn’t offered the first time around, he’d become surprisingly comfortable doing so every in every session that followed and nahim saw no good reason to turn any opportunity down. 

with a minute to spare until their scheduled meeting for the week, nahim made his way to rhys’ office, slowing in his tracks as he watched a face he was yet to familiarise himself with leave rhys’ office. by the looks of him, the stranger could easily be the other magic consultant; rhys had fondly mentioned… seth, was it? wandering closer, nahim flashed a cordial smile in the other’s direction as he passed, strengthening his mental shield out of habit around all magic users; out of all the lessons bastjan had taught him, keeping all thoughts concealed was paramount to guaranteed protection and, more dramatically, survival. “what kind of mood is he in?” nahim ensured his tone was jovial as he spoke, nodding towards rhys’ office to accentuate his questioning. “something along the lines of pleasant, i hope?”

[rhysdasiorarchive]

After a few stressful weeks of trying to find some sort of feasible plan that wouldn’t result in the most godawful outcome imaginable or land him in the same dreadful situation as Seth himself, Rhys could finally start to see the light at the end of the tunnel when it came to bringing Seth back from his suffering. Through some small miracle, Cairo had agreed to offer guidance throughout to ensure the summoning process was as seamless as it could possibly be and despite the knock Rhys’ ego had taken in having to ask for it, he was deeply relieved to have an extra pair of hands on board just in case things took a turn for the worst. 

Taking a final look at the items required for the ritual to effectively take place, Rhys tried to ignore the shudder of uncertainty that rolled down his spine as his gaze lingered on the human skull that sat atop his desk amidst the collection of other trigger objects required. The skull's presence was almost more unnerving than the fact that he’d be expected to spill his own blood for this farce; if word ever reached back home of such a practice, Rhys dreaded to think of the lecturing he’d receive for dabbling in the Dasior’s biggest no-no field of practice. The daunting air cleared in his mind as his gaze flickered to one of Seth’s sweaters folded neatly beside the other objects and for a moment, he felt genuinely hopeful that this might actually work. Not that he doubted Cairo’s tutelage or anything, it was just a lot to take in.

Giving a brief glance at his pocket watch – it was only a matter of minutes before Cairo would arrive now – Rhys exhaled slowly and made his way to the windowsill of his suite to uncork the power augmenting potion he’d prepared the night before, eyeing the shimmering liquid with a hint of hesitation and downing it before he could dwell on it any further. It was just as unpleasant as he’d anticipated but if it meant being able to pinpoint Seth’s exact location when the time came for it, it was worth it. He anxiously passed the empty bottle from hand to hand as he turned to survey the barren room. He’d cleared it entirely in the early hours of the morning as sleep had escaped him yet again and the anticipation had proven too much to bear. Cairo had mentioned something about the summoning circle taking up a lot of room, so Rhys could only hope his efforts would be sufficient.

As the sound of Cairo’s sharp knock against the door echoed throughout the suite, Rhys took a deep breath to steel himself and hurried over to pull it open, stepping aside to invite the older witch inside. “Hey. Thanks again for… well, y’know, all of this. I’ve got as much prepared as I could." He nodded over his shoulder towards his desk to prove his point just to show that he had made an effort rather than pacing the length of his suite and fretting like he had been for the past few weeks. "Wasn’t sure about the whole… blood magic side of things. Thought it’d be best to broach that when you got here. Can I get you anything before we start?”

@cairorenaud

[heartsdefine]

↪ memes — accepting!

@unwaivering said: "I don't need anyone else." (Seth Solo to Rey)

        “Everyone needs someone,” Rey replies easily, as if this is the one thing she's most certain of. “Especially those who don't think they do.”

[blcssom]

closed starter for @tcrnished ft. seth barlowe

he's stood back in silence (the way he's meant to) for about as long as he can bear. it's on their fifth lap around the room that seth clears his throat. "is something.... bothering you?"

[yusukelogist]

the inevitable highschool au for everypony 

[rhysdasiorarchive]

Rhys’ expression faltered slightly at the hint of less dinnertable-friendly discussions and he wrinkled his nose in visible disagreement. “Actually, y’know what? Yeah, keep those details to yourself. I think I can survive just fine without them.” Listening attentively as Seth continued, Rhys tried to remain focused and not lose himself to the simple joy of simply having Seth back. The time spent apart from him had been nightmarish in its own right, the process of getting Seth out of Hell had been gruelling in ways Rhys had never even thought possible… but it’d all been worth it for this moment. Worth all the heartache, the grief, the frustration, the uncertainty – there wasn’t a doubt in Rhys’ mind that he’d do it all over again if he had to. There was very little he wouldn’t do for Seth. Rhys gave a coy smile at the reference of his complete lack of informing Shade of the plan in any way but then again, it hadn’t seemed wise to encroach upon Shade’s space even after all the time that had come to pass since their last altercation. Rhys’ ego and pride simply hadn’t allowed it, not that it would’ve made much of a difference in the long run anyway, not in Rhys’ professional opinion. 

The witch raised an eyebrow in silent judgement across the table as Seth insisted that everything was fine but he knew better than to press further. If Seth insisted as much, then it was so. Rhys’ arched brow rose higher at the sight of Seth’s smirk across the table and gave a light laugh in response, shaking his head at the memories of the difficult interim period. “The agency staff weren’t the worst, but… well, they weren’t you. Do you know just how many last-minute corrections I had to make to things? I owe you an apology, Seth. I really do. I’ve been taking your expertise for granted all this time and didn’t even acknowledge it. Honestly, between the two of us, I’m just glad the department’s still standing. Had a few touch and go moments here and there. Fuck knows what happened to my time management skills– but it’s like you said, it was fine. It’s definitely fine now, anyway.”

Seth nodded once more, glad to let the topic of Roland die there so as not to spoil the mood of the evening. He was out of Hell and back to normal. Almost. Aside from the whole obvious demon thing but whatever, more power wasn't something he'd complain about. He had his dog, he had his suite, he had his job –– it was like nothing ever happened. And Seth was fine to move on like that.

"I mean, do you want to hear those kind of details?" he asked, grinning a little wickedly at Rhys. "Like I said, he said he was happy I ain't in Hell any more. He was more surprised than anything when I walked in, which makes sense cause I didn't exactly tell him about any plan for me to come back and I'm guessing you didn't either. But it's fine. Everything's fine." Or so Seth kept telling himself. He smirked a little at his mentor across the table. "I'm sure you're glad to have someone help you with the magic consulting load that you don't need to train," he chuckled. "How've things been with you otherwise while I've been... uh, away?"

[theoneandonlyseth]

INTRO

Helloo, I'm Seth and I go by he/him prns. :-) I'm the host of a system & a Morphtive.

I made this blog because I don't really get to talk about being a host or my sources very often. (im a Seth fictive from ennead if you havent guessed) Expect rants about myself and my life.

Not sure what else to say, I'm a bi man and I do use some desirdaes. I've allowed my headmates to talk on here too if they want so they might also post.

I don't really have a DNI because they don't really work anyway so I'll just list my stances and you can decide if you want to int or not.

I'm pro endo, pro good faith labels, anti radqueer, neu proship and more I'm probably forgetting rn.

At the end of the day I dont really care who interacts with me as long as they stay civil. :-)

Sourcemates PLEASE interact!

[onestepbackwards]

Love That Bites Pt. 7

This fic has me by the throat a lil bit. Though it was never my intention to write the chapter to be this big 😅 it kinda did what it wanted.

Summary: Things seemingly were beginning to go well for you. Of course, you should have known it was only a matter of time before things went horribly, horribly wrong.

CW: Multiple injures, blood loss, panic attacks, abuse, irresponsible injury treatment, cursing

Word Count: 7111 words!

Wanna help support me? Come follow me here!

Reblogs and comments appreciated!

Taglist: @onewiththebeanbag

@starrlo0ver

First: Here

Last: Here

Next: Here

It was only a matter of time until things spiraled out of control.

You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised.

Given that you were a Belmont, you knew your luck could only go so far, especially with how you had been cruising what little good luck you had left until now.

In hindsight, you really should have put forth an effort to further anticipate this.

After all, it was only a matter of time before you were heavily injured by your ‘family.’

Things had briefly gotten admittedly better, before things took a turn for the worst.

It had been too good to be true. You relaxed too much. Let yourself get too comfortable.

A little over a week before this had happened, your family had seemingly backed off. Something that you had admittedly been relieved about at the time.

They gave you space, well, about the same amount of space before you started sneaking away even more to see Dracula’s statue.

Jason had no longer been up your ass complaining and trying to instigate a fight.

That itself had been a huge weight off your shoulders. Your step brothers you could handle, but your step father? He had quickly grown into a short fuse over the years, and had especially been reactive as of late.

With Jason backing down, your brothers seemed to follow his lead.

Seth had taken to lingering in the background when you were around. Ever present, watching you, but never saying anything.

His gaze unnerved you, but hey, it was better than talking to him most of the time.

Mark meanwhile had barely been around the house. When you did see him, he seemed pissed off. Angry, just like his father.

He especially seemed mad at you, but would storm off before he would yell.

That had you concerned at first, and you worried you would have to watch your back for him instead.

Nothing ever came from any of them. Just the usual shit from about a year ago. Avoiding you, still making you clean, and having you take dirty jobs.

You could live with that.

Even if it was still poor treatment, it was better than whatever had originally pissed your step father off bad enough to hit you outside of training.

With them not all constantly down your throat, you were beginning to feel a lot better too.

Sure, you still weren’t getting as much rest as you’d like, but now you were at least able to rest.

With the lack of immediate stress, and some actual sleep, you actually were beginning to feel a little better.

By the end of the week, you’d dare even say you had felt somewhat good. It was a wonder what a lack of migraines and puking your guts out could do for your health and overall well being!

You had even taken a trip back to your cabin to check up on Dracula at the end of the week. With each bout of sickness, it had been harder to head over there without issue.

But when you were feeling better, you left with no hassle. Not even a peep from your step family when you left in the evening!

That should have been another warning.

They always have something to say if they catch you ‘sneaking’ out. If not a snide comment, it’s usually yelling and screaming as they followed you to your car.

The visit itself had been uneventful, but you had brought some snacks, and happily talked on about how you were feeling better for once.

You knew better than to tempt fate like that, yet you still did it, too happy and in bliss.

It had even felt like you were welcome. The Castle hadn’t felt intimidating in a long time. It felt, dare you say, somewhat welcoming.

Or that was just your hope and delusions talking.

Dracula hadn’t moved at all, though you did notice his eyes still changed positions on occasion, still solidifying he was somewhat aware of you.

You had left that visit happy, and feeling a bit lighter.

Of course, all good things must come to an end.

The few days afterward were similar to the last, and you didn’t suspect a thing. You only became wary whenever Mark would get upset, but like before, he would turn and leave you alone.

It wasn’t until an average Monday afternoon that things turned sour.

You had been writing in your journal, noting your visits with Dracula inside it in code. It had become a pastime for you when you arrived home, and figured detailing your visits wouldn’t hurt if you needed them in the future.

As you had been writing, you heard the familiar sound of footsteps walking up stairs and towards your room.

Quickly, you hid your journal, and pulled out another to pretend to write in.

Moments later, your door opened, with not even a knock.

Jason stood there, an odd look on his face. It almost seemed… gleeful.

That unsettled you, but you kept your face blank.

“Get your things. We need you for a training session.” He said, though you knew it was an order.

One of the few things you couldn’t talk your way out of in this house.

“Alright. I’ll be there in a minute.” You said with a sigh, closing your mock journal.

Jason didn’t waste another moment, and turned and left, not even closing your door behind him.

Jerk.

You made sure you had your whip with you, and changed into some comfortable gear to dodge in. It’s not like they’d let you actually attack them, anyway.

Quickly, you then headed to your family’s training area, drrad an annoyance in your stomach.

That wasn’t unusual. You never enjoyed training with them, with how aggressive and temperamental they could occasionally be.

Not to mention, this was just an excuse to use you as a punching bag to take their anger out on.

With how temperamental Mark had been lately, you had a feeling you would be leaving this ‘training session’ with a few more bruises than normal.

It started as normal. Your step brothers were allowed to choose whatever weapon they wanted, same with your step father.

Any weapon, except for your whip.

Anytime they asked (read: demanded) to use your whip, that was the one line you never let them cross.

Even in the past, when they physically threatened you, tried to take it forcefully, and tried to intimidate you by threatening to evict you, you held firm.

The Belmont family whip would stay in the family. It’s not like they could awaken and use its power properly anyways.

…Not without killing themselves in the process, at least. The whip was very picky, apparently.

Since you had your whip, they often argued you didn’t need any other weapon. That was the downside of keeping it on you around them.

“If you were so great at fighting, you wouldn’t need them anyway, right?” They’d always say.

It wasn’t too different this time, though you just decided not to bother asking for a chance to use something else.

Best to skip the ‘formalities’, after all.

As usual, Jason instructed you where he wanted you to stand, and that your step brothers and himself would be practicing weapons they weren’t the best with.

“Better to practice with a live target, right?” Seth had spoken, grabbing an old battle ax.

The look on his face made you shudder.

Those words, and the weird look made your gut churn.

You didn’t like that, not one bit.

Glancing to the side, Mark stared at you with a steely gaze. That iron hot anger simmered behind his eyes, and you felt yourself beginning to sweat.

He was silent, and alarm bells were ringing in your head.

Mark was always the loud one of the two brothers. His silence spoke volumes.

Him also holding a spear with murderous intent didn’t help.

Jason was in front of you across the room, as if to act as a referee. You knew damn well it was only for show. He only stopped the fights if you fought back, just to yell at you for daring to ‘attack his precious sons.’

He also would join in if he really felt like it. If he ever was in a foul mood, or felt you weren’t taking enough aggression, he’d try and sneak into the fight. Something he only started doing after your mother had passed away.

If he had tried that shit when she was alive, even if she was ill, she would have torn him to pieces.

Stars, you missed her.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to settle your nerves.

Jason was staring at you, a focused look on his face. You gripped your whip tightly, your stomach beginning to churn.

Something was wrong.

Every instinct that had been drilled inside you was screaming at you to run.

You weren’t the hunter here. This didn’t feel like it was going to be a regular training session.

You were now the prey.

In an instant, Mark sprang into action, and threw his spear at you with alarming accuracy. You let out a yell of surprise as you jumped back, the weapon narrowly missing you by a few inches.

Jason hadn’t even given the okay. That had been an attempt on your life, you were sure of it.

You didn’t have much time to think on that, with Seth running up to you with a yell, swinging the ax at your neck.

The weapon came down at a vertical angle, and you hissed as you dodged to the side.

“What the fuck is your problem!? If that had hit me, I-“ you yelled, though let out a curse mid sentence when you spotted Mark out of the corner of your eye, trying to stab at your mid section.

Your free hand came up just in time, and you managed to parry the spear, sending it to the left.

Seth was in front of you again, and you panicked. With Mark behind you to your left, you had very little room to dodge the ax once again headed your way.

Before Seth could bring down the ax, you pushed forward, taking him by surprise as you got in his personal space.

With no room for him to swing, you ducked under his arm, trying to get away and put some distance between you and them.

Before you could run, you felt a hand at your back, grabbing your shirt, and tugging. With a yell, Mark threw you backwards behind them both, and the force knocked you to the floor.

You didn’t have time to even acknowledge the air being knocked from your lungs as you quickly rolled to the side. Where you were just a second prior, Seth’s ax was lodged into the ground with a worrying thunk.

As Seth tried to tug the ax from the ground, you saw Mark running at you, fully intending to gut you with his spear.

Swiftly, you kicked his legs out from under him, rolled backwards, and landed onto your feet.

Mark fell to the ground, landing on his lower back with a groan. A curse followed as his spear tumbled out of his hand, and part of the handle landed on his face as he struggled to grab it.

Shaking from the adrenaline and slight panic, you looked between the two siblings, bewildered.

Sure, they loved beating the shit out of you, or trying to during the ‘mandatory’ training sessions Jason would throw at you. But this?

They were trying to kill you.

Every attack had been an attempt to end your life, not just break a bone or two and cover you in bruises.

“Just what the fuck your problem!? It’s not training if you’re genuinely teaming up to kill me you asshats! Jason, this is going too far, even for-“

You paused as you panted. Jason was not where he was moments prior.

“…-you?”

In a split second, it was as if time slowed down. Your instincts once again screamed at you to move.

Without thinking, you dived to the right. Your body felt like lead, but your mind moved at a thousand miles an hour.

You felt it before you saw it.

A sharp, striking pain erupted in your left side. You could feel it practically burn your nerves alive as the pain slowly spread.

Landing with a roll, you let out a pained yell as time seemed to finally catch up with your senses.

You gripped your side, and looked where the pain was, and your shirt was quickly growing soaked with red.

Blood.

There was a tear in your shirt, though you couldn’t properly see the wound from how you sat.

However, you certainly felt the pain, and could see the blood both dripping down onto your pants. Your shirt was quickly becoming soaked with red, and you were instantly concerned with how bad the wound must be to be bleeding that quickly.

With a hiss, you cupped the wound, wincing as you tried to stop the blood flow.

You turned to look behind you, and you grimaced when you saw Jason holding a bloody hunting knife.

“Motherfucker, did you just-“ you cursed, and Jason simply clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“You’re getting rusty. That should have been easy for you to dodge.” Is all he said, and your eyes narrowed.

He lazily swung the knife in his hands, as if admiring it.

“You fought back against Mark, so I figured you needed a challenge. It seems I was right, if I was able to hit you.”

A grin grew on his face, and you felt dread build up in your chest as Seth and Mark began to close in on you, both having recovered from earlier.

“After all, without a challenge, how can you ever hope to improve?”

Shakily, you stood up.

Gripping your whip with one hand, and holding your side with the other, you glared at the three.

“This is nuts! You really think critically injuring me is going to help me improve?” You spat, your mind swimming as pain filled your senses.

Your step father gave you a disgusted look, as if you were nothing but the scum on the bottom of his boots.

To him, you most definitely were.

You let out a yelp when Seth’s ax swung down at you, and you stumbled back.

Twisting to the side with a grunt of pain, you narrowly dodged another wound in your side from Mark. However, you cursed when you felt the edge of the spear cut your right arm.

“Who said it was just you needing to improve.” Mark spoke, and pulled his spear back to stab you again. Seth dashed at you at the same time, trying to take you off guard.

Bobbing and weaving, you barely managed to avoid both weapons. Though your eyes widened when you felt a bit of air next to your ear from behind you as you ducked.

Jason, the fucker, had aimed for your damn head.

You licked your lips as you struggled to figure out what to do.

They weren’t the best fighters on their own. Deep down, you think they all knew this as well.

It’s one reason you always got the icky jobs. They were never tough enough to handle them alone.

But together? They were annoying, and an actual threat since they were actually trying to kill you.

Sure, they were disguising this as training, but you knew they were aiming for that ‘lucky’ hit to put you out of commission at best.

If you were to die? Well, you were from a family of hunters. Accidents happen, after all. It unfortunately wouldn’t be the first time a hunter died from an accident in training.

You had to do something, figure out a plan. This wasn’t good.

Your mind was growing a bit foggy. Moving was beginning to get harder too, not just from the pain. The blood loss was beginning to slow you down.

Jason was right, much to your dismay and disgust.

In a way, you had let this happen. You weren’t paying enough attention, and you might end up gravely paying for it.

Letting your guard down and thinking this would be regular training was your biggest mistake.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t be your last.

You moved to back away, and gasped in pain when one of them kicked you in the back, sending you toppling forward.

“Still not fighting back, just as I had taught ya.” You heard your step father practically gloat from above you as you struggled to push up.

“At least you’re able to listen to some rules. Not a complete idiot who doesn’t know how to listen to an order.”

The wind was then knocked from your lungs as a shoe slammed onto your back, and you crumpled to the floor.

Your hands clenched into fists, and you felt hot tears welling up in your eyes.

Pathetic.

How could you let this happen?

You could level armies with just a whip. Destroy packs of demons with a knife. You trained to defeat Dracula, of all people. Your family had even praised your prowess, confident you’d be able to do so should the need arise.

Yet you let these three clowns get a lucky hit, and had you falling like a flimsy house of cards.

Granted, they had never gone this far before. You should have seen it coming.

You got lazy. Compliant. Relaxed.

How could you let it get to his? Were you really still that afraid of fighting back?

Did the fear of losing everything really hold you this far back?

“Oh look at that. They’re crying! When was the last time they’d done that?” One of them laughed above you. You were so out of sorts, you weren’t sure you could tell who it was.

One of them scoffed.

A moment later, you felt a sharp pain to your ribs, and you let out a cry of pain and surprise.

The kick had enough force to flip you over, and you cursed. They had hit you right in the wound.

You cracked your eye open, and immediately regretted it as the handle of Seth’s ax came down at your head.

It missed your eye, but the brunt force was enough to turn your vision white regardless with hot, blinding pain.

“Holy fuck-“ you cursed, curling in on yourself and trying to grab your temple.

“Shut up.”

A scream was then ripped from your throat when you felt searing pain in your leg.

This wasn’t training anymore. This was torture.

“Hmph. Look at them. How pitiful.” Seth, you think, spoke up.

One of them chuckled.

“What a disappointment. Such a disgrace doesn’t deserve the Belmont name.” Jason scoffed, and he bent down to your level.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him reaching for your whip.

Your ears rang, and for a brief moment, you suddenly had a moment of clarity.

A growl ripped from your throat, and Jason let out a squawk of surprise when you suddenly reached out, and tossed him over your body.

Faintly, you heard his body harshly hit the floor at your side.

Mark and Seth were briefly taken off guard, and you took the opportunity to shakily stand to your feet.

“Don’t ever say that to me again. You may have taken our family name, but you three will never be Belmonts.” You snarled, holding your whip close as you struggled to stay standing.

Mark’s face twisted into fury while Seth had rushed to his father’s side. Jason had seemingly landed on his face, and was now cupping his nose as blood dripped down his chin.

You hoped he broke his nose or fucked up his jaw.

Mark raised his spear, and was about to rush you again.

Before he could, you felt the dam break.

Gripping your whip, you lashed out, and a loud crack echoes across the room, followed by a hollow clutter against the floor.

The spear had been masterfully ripped from his grasp by your whip, and was now innocently rolling across the ground.

All three of them froze.

It had been years since you raised your whip against any of them. The last time being when your mother was alive, and you were allowed to fight back during training.

The silent fury was evident in your eyes and posture. Despite your injuries, you were still standing, and ready to fight once more.

And you were pissed.

No one talked. No one moved. Their eyes flickered between yourself, and the whip in your hand.

Unknowst to you, the weapon was glowing a soft purple. All three of them could feel a rage from the whip, one that was completely different from the rage coming from you.

The temperature seemed to drop, and the three of them suddenly struggled to breathe properly. It was as if they were suffocating from how heavy the air had become.

So this was the power of a Belmont.

You hadn’t even done anything, but all three felt the immense pressure, the immense power you wielded. The immense potential you had, even after the injuries they had inflicted onto you was untold.

They were no match for you, they knew this.

Growling, you cracked your whip again, making all three flinch.

“That is enough.” You spoke, your voice echoing in the chamber.

“I’m going to leave this place to recover, regardless of your consequences. You will not stop me. If you try to attack me when my back is turned, I won’t hold back.”

Your words were cold and icy, and they could sense the frustration and fury you were holding back.

Slowly, you turned towards the exit, and began to limp to the door.

However, you momentarily paused before opening it.

“I’ll be back eventually. I recommend we pretend this didn’t happen, for both our sakes, understand?” You said, your voice even, but your rage still ever present.

The three looked at eachother, though you missed the frustrated, annoyed looks on their faces. Despite this, they did not speak.

Nor did you give them the chance to.

You opened the door, and slammed it behind you, limping up the stairs and through the house to your room.

It wasn’t until you reached your bed that you finally collapsed.

Gasping for air, you groaned as you felt the pain rip through your body.

You lost so much blood. The wounds they gave you weren’t life threatening on their own, but left unattended, and being forced to move with them had cost you.

Gripping the side of the bed, you lifted yourself up slightly, and opened your bedside drawer. Feeling around inside, you let out a sigh of relief.

…Only to groan is frustration when the potion bottle you pulled out was almost empty.

Right. Up until this last week, you had been sipping on these to help with bruises and your bouts of illness.

All that was left was about an inch of liquid in the bottle.

Not enough to fix any severe damage, but enough to hopefully slow down the bleeding.

Without hesitation, you downed the little bit left in the bottle, and proceeded to crawl towards your bathroom.

You could at least feel the wounds trying to stitch itself together, and your head didn’t hurt as much.

This is what you get for not stocking up. Instead, you had decided to go visit Dracula again, when you really should have contacted one of the alchemists you did business with.

Lesson learned, you supposed.

With a grunt, you clambered over to your desk, and pulled out a first aid kit. With practiced precision, you began to dress your wounds.

It was sloppy and rough, but it was better than leaving them open. Anything to slow or stop the bleeding, and avoid instant infection.

You could clean them up later when you got away from here. Anywhere from here.

Though you already knew where you would be going. You didn’t even have to ask yourself such a question.

When your wounds were eventually wrapped, you put a small bag together of anything you needed, and began limping back down the stairs.

You grimaced at the blood stains on the wood. You'd let them deal with it, knowing they’d care too much about the house to just leave it be.

Wouldn’t have even been an issue if they had not decided to torture you. It was their problem now.

You ended up passing them briefly on your way to the car. Your hand was still on your whip, and they gave you a wide berth as you passed them.

It pleased you to see your step father with a bandage around his nose. Fucker.

Still, that didn’t stop the glares he sent your way, or how Mark seemed to twitch in his seat in the kitchen as you passed by.

Was it bad you almost wanted him to attack you again so you could hurt him?

You decided no, it wasn’t. You’d process those feelings later when you weren’t still in possible danger and injured.

When you reached your car, you tossed your things into the back, and hit the gas as soon as the engine was on.

There was no time to waste. You wanted out. You had to get out. Had to leave.

It wasn’t until you were out of town did you notice how badly you were shaking, and how much blood was on your hands.

Your own blood.

A heavy sigh passed through your lips, and you continued driving.

The silence in your car was heavy. Your mind felt like it was racing, yet felt eerily calm at the same time.

It wasn’t until an hour into the drive that you finally pulled over, and got sick on the grass at the side of the road.

This wasn’t the same as when you were ill. This was some sort of physical response to the stress.

The last time this happened had been after your mother’s funeral, though that had been years ago.

Still, as you sat in the grass with a bottle of water, redressing your wounds as you nursed a migraine, you couldn’t help but feel your world was crumbling.

Your step family… they had finally done it. They hurt you. Intentionally. You know for a fact some of those attacks had the intent to kill.

Hot tears fell down your cheeks as you sat there, dwelling on it.

If you hadn’t fought back, finally giving in, who knows how far they would have gone when you had been a broken mess on the floor.

The fact your step father had even reached for your whip proved what it had all been about. He wanted everything. Having the house, the money, and the artifacts wasn’t enough.

He wanted to be a Belmont. He wanted your family’s legacy. The power, the notoriety, everything.

You refused to break.

Of course, you knew you couldn’t stay away forever. You’d have to go back eventually. There was no way in hell you were leaving the house to them without pitching a fit at least.

Wiping tears from your eyes, you heaved a sigh.

Everything sucked so much right now.

All you really wanted was to be in the cabin, or the castle. Run away and hide from this mess.

You would for a time, at least.

Lick your wounds before returning to what had become your own personal hell. You at least counted yourself lucky you had somewhere to go in the first place.

It took longer than you’d like to get back on your feet, but you had to keep moving. It was dangerous to camp out on the side of the road as injured as you were.

So you finished up, trying to avoid looking at your wounds as much as possible while still messily patching them up.

The less you acknowledged this at the moment, the better.

So you got back in your car, and continued to drive.

You could at least admit you felt a little better after crying a bit, but you had a sinking feeling this shit was gonna do some hardcore psychic damage to your mental health once you started processing it.

That could wait until later. Right now, your body was still tense.

It was strange. Your body couldn’t relax. Your body was still in fight or flight mode, and you could only wonder if it was the shock.

It took a while longer to reach the cabin. Longer than you would have liked, but it still somehow felt like a blur. You briefly wondered if you were losing your sense of time from the trauma.

“At least its working in my favor…” you couldn’t help but mumble as you dragged your bags into the house, uncaringly dropping them on your couch.

It wasn’t like you had anything too delicate anyway.

You ended up sitting on your bed, staring at your lap as you attempted to relax.

Even after hours of mindless driving, your heart still hammered in your chest, and your body shook.

The searing aches and pain from your wounds didn’t help either.

In fact, they kinda made you just wanna crawl into bed and die.

Heaving another sigh, you put your face in your hands, wincing when you felt the wound on your head.

“Man… I probably have a concussion too. Probably should not have driven, but…”

The words went unspoken, but even in this state, you weren’t going to take any chances of being followed. Physically or otherwise.

“What should I even…” you began to mumble, but stopped.

You didn’t know what you should do, but you knew what you wanted to do.

Realistically, you should just stay here. Redress your wounds (again), and eat, and take a long nap.

But you couldn’t. No way would you be able to rest in the semi manic state you were in.

No matter how many deep breaths you took, you still shook. Your heart still pounded in your ears. It was too hard to think. To focus.

“How pathetic…” you mumbled as you stood up, stumbling at the firey pain erupting from your calf.

“I’ve fought scarier monsters, obtained worse wounds, and walked it all off fine. Get beat up a little bit though by those… scum, and suddenly I can’t do anything right?”

You could probably go hours beating yourself up over this.

But you wouldn’t. Not right now.

Despite being at your cabin, your sanctuary, you did not feel at peace.

But you knew where you could calm down.

Was it a bad idea? Oh absolutely it was.

That wasn’t going to stop you, though. At this point, you could care less about what might happen.

“If anything, I’d rather Dracula kill me than my own step monsters.” You grumbled as you stumbled through the living area, searching for a specific bag. Grabbing it, you were out the door in moments.

Besides, it’s not like Dracula hadn’t seen you at a few lows already. What was one more?

If he still thought lowly about you, he’d at least get a kick out of it.

You pushed out the door of the cabin, your mind still feeling as if a thousand wasps were buzzing inside your skull.

So many thoughts, but it was hard to truly think about any of them. They were like water flowing through your fingers, and you didn’t care enough to cup your hands to try and catch them.

It was a bit of a walk, and it was arguably incredibly stupid to push yourself even more just to get to Dracula’s castle, but you were determined.

Also incredibly stubborn.

The walk wasn’t as easy as you had hoped it would be. Time didn’t pass as quickly as it did in the car, though the fact you were actually moving your body around instead of driving may have a bit to do with it.

You were in a painful daze every step of the way. Tremors or pain shot through your body with each miniscule movement.

But you didn’t relent.

It took a bit longer to arrive, but you couldn’t deny the wave of relief you felt when you passed the clearing to the lake.

The familiar, dark, looming castle was still there, surrounded by a vortex of storm clouds.

It was a sight that brought you an intense feeling of comfort and familiarity.

When had this cursed castle begin to feel closer to home than your own family house?

The thought was fleeting in your mind, the only thing you really cared to think of was getting inside, and getting past the obscene amount of stairs.

“How the hell did my ancestors get around this shit… Dracula, the lucky bastard, can teleport. How did anyone else get around?”

You were really regretting deciding to come here injured. Your legs were screaming at you, and you were drenched in sweat.

It was only a matter of time before your body forcefully shut down so you’d rest.

You at least wanted to be in the main tower when you inevitably passed out for a few days.

Despite everything you should have thought, it was the only place that felt safe. The only place you could pass out in peace.

Something a year ago you would have scoffed at, yet here you are.

You were sure you must have looked like a hot mess when you pulled the throne room’s doors open with your good arm.

No doubt you still had blood on you, and your wounds were still badly wrapped. Your face probably looked just as rough if the tender spot above your temple was any indication.

It was strange.

You could have sworn the energy in the castle shifted the moment you walked through the throne room door.

From the usual, comforting feeling you had grown accustomed to, the energy suddenly felt… off.

Vile? Angry? Suffocating? Hot?

But… you didn’t feel unwelcome, despite how the feeling around you made your stomach churn.

Slowly, you stepped forward, your limp becoming much more apparent now that you were here. You could relax a little.

“Hey, I’m back.” You spoke, albeit a bit weakly.

The air seemed to tighten, and you felt a bit hot.

“I know, I know. I look like shit. I feel like it too…” you spoke, your voice softening to a murmur the closer you got.

When you were a few feet away from the statue, you sighed, and dropped your bag.

Nothing had changed since last time, it seemed. Dracula’s hand was still outstretched towards where you had fallen asleep that one time.

“Ugh…” you mumbled, and finally sat down. Gripping your head gently, you opened your bag, and grabbed a water bottle.

Taking a swig, you grimaced.

“Bleh… tastes awful. Is water supposed to taste that bad…?” You mumbled, looking over the bottle, unaware of the growing distress from the other person in the room.

Your face scrunched up as you took another sip.

“Ugh. Tastes sorta like metal. Did this get left out?” You hummed as you forced yourself to drink more. You’d need the water after everything that happened, after all.

You sat there in silence for a while, contemplating what to do. What to say.

“Today was rough.” You spoke, your voice cracking.

Now that you were somewhat safe, you could feel the familiar heavy feeling sinking in your chest.

Pain. Anguish. An unexplainable sickly feeling…

That's not to mention the absurd physical pain you felt. Your injuries were screaming at you at this point.

It was probably some of the worst pain you had felt in years.

You finished your water bottle, and tossed it back into your bag with a wince.

Just turning your body hurt.

“Aw, fuck-“ you then hissed, feeling your wound on your side pull open again.

It had only been a matter of time. You had poorly treated it before leaving your family home. That, and all the walking to get here?

Yeah, your wounds reopening wasn’t a surprise.

“Son of a bitch…” you mumbled through grit teeth, and pulled the bag closer.

You may not have any potions stocked, but you at least remembered to stuff some medical supplies in this bag for when you got here.

It took a moment, but you finally found the gauze and some medicine. You hissed as you got to work.

“What a mess…” you groaned out as you started on your injury on your side.

Maybe bringing an extra shirt would have been smart. Fuck.

Still, you pushed the messy garment away, and cursed when you began to undo the bindings for the wound.

Just as you thought, the wound had reopened.

It could be worse, but it certainly didn’t look pretty. You had to clean this up, and fast.

You reached over for a bottle of antibacterial cream, only to start cursing when it slipped from your hands after picking it up.

The small plastic jar rolled on its side across the floor, until it bumped against the statue, innocently slowing to a stop at its feet.

Head hanging low for a moment, you contemplated how bad the damage would be if you just left it.

“Damn it…” you mumbled, and slowly stood to your feet.

Gripping the wound on your side, you took a few steps forward, before gripping your head.

You were so exhausted. No doubt you were dehydrated, and your body was trying to shut down to try and rest.

Standing up and trying to walk, even if it wasn’t fast, was enough to give you a headrush. It also made you suddenly feel incredibly dizzy and nauseous.

Your vision blurred, and your feet stumbled, causing you to trip over yourself.

A string of colorful curses left your mouth as you fell forward, desperately trying to catch yourself.

One of your hands flew forward, and you let out a small ‘ack!’ when your hands landed on Dracula’s statue.

You fumbled as you tried to catch yourself, your bloody hands landing on his outstretched arm as you attempted to avoid hitting the floor.

“Fuck me…” you gasped as you attempted to avoid heaving up the water you had previously drank, leaning loosely against the stone arm.

“What a-“ you began to mumble, but froze when you heard the distinct sound of stone grinding against stone.

“-…pain?” You weakly spoke, eyes widening as your head snapped back to the statue you were leaning against.

Your heartbeat thud in your ears, and you felt like you were about to choke for entirely different reasons than before.

Dracula was moving.

His head shook, and stone dust fell around him…

…And his head snapped to look at you.

“Oh sh-“

Before the words were even out of your mouth, it was as if the castle itself took a deep breath, and then there was an explosion of power that followed.

A scream was immediately ripped from your throat as you were thrown backwards, sliding on your back against the floor past your bag.

You were dazed from being thrown, but you could faintly feel the air grow thick with energy, and the very castle beneath you shook.

It was almost too much. You felt like you were going to be sick.

Almost as fast as it began, the castle’s tremors slowed to a stop, and you finally could catch your breath.

Only to choke when you attempted to sit up.

Torches on the wall began to light up with flames, one by one, and the air began to clear from all the dust in the air.

And in the center of the room, an all too familiar figure slowly stood to their feet.

You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe.

Dracula.

Panic began to well in your heart, and you were shaking all over again.

You were frozen. You could not move.

Dracula turned, and you felt like you were punched in the gut.

That same beautiful face you had grown accustomed to, was now full of color, and striking red eyes met your own.

Dracula was back.

You were going to die.

It wasn’t so much a thought, but rather a feeling. You knew in your current state, you were unmatched.

The silence was deafening. His gaze never left your form.

Pure, stone cold rage was on his face.

His ruby colored eyes, however, were scathing hot. Hot in a way that made you think of the fiery pits of hell itself.

The air was suffocating.

Dracula took a step towards you. Then another. And another.

Each step echoed loudly in the chamber, like a thunderclap in the eye of a storm.

Every step he took, you felt your heart attempt to jump out of your throat.

It felt slow, and so fast. Time was frozen, yet moving faster than you could understand.

Dracula grew closer and closer, and you felt yourself beginning to hyperventilate.

You weren’t ready. Of all times for this to happen, you weren’t ready.

Eventually he was right in front of you, and you found yourself frozen. All your muscles refused to move. Fear gripped your heart tight with a vengeance.

Dracula was tall. He easily loomed over you as you sat on the floor, and you had to crane your neck just to see his face properly.

This was it, wasn’t it? He was going to kill you.

You waited in bated breath for him to mock you, or at least to strike you down where you laid.

He did neither.

In fact, you nearly jumped when he began to lower himself, crouching down to your level.

He was so close… less than a foot away.

Then, he reached forward.

At first, you flinched as his hand reached for your face, and he hesitated. That nearly brought you out of your stupor. Why would he hesitate?

But then, instead of lashing out, his giant hand ever so gently reached forward, and carefully cupped your face.

Your breathing hitched, and you froze.

The action was so out of place from what you were expecting, it caused you to stop panicking from disbelief.

Dracula’s hand was tender and cool against your fevered flesh. He seemed to be looking over your wounds, which were now beginning to sting all over again.

He was quiet for a moment, and you couldn’t help but grow confused, though your heart still hammered painfully in your chest.

Finally, after a brief, tense moment, he spoke.

“Who did this to you?”

[rhysdasiorarchive]

closed starter for @witchysethharper.

Given everything that had occurred over the past few days, the last place Rhys wished to be was anywhere containing other people. He’d been comfortable enough locked away in the safety of his office, avoiding any and all socialisation unless workplace requirements demanded it. For a while, it had been easy enough to distract himself with the last few pages of paperwork that needed tending to – followed by a brief flick through the pile of books on his bedside table he’d been meaning to read for months but had found himself too distracted by Roland’s near-constant presence to properly devote any time to – before the guilt and concern grew too large to ignore. He’d been lazy in patching things up with Seth after the events at Cannabites, too proud to be the first one to admit concession and too distracted by Roland’s incredibly sudden and jarring departure from his daily life seemingly overnight. It seemed as if that evening had brought with it a whole host of complications that Rhys really should have envisioned a whole lot sooner. Then again, perhaps this is what he got for neglecting his divination and intuition in favour of pursuing and maintaining emotional connections. 

With the festivities in full swing downtown, Rhys knew exactly where he’d find the younger witch and despite his reservations, he pushed his pride aside to make the first step towards putting at least one thing right. Even if he was still unimpressed with how Shade and Seth had handled their side of things, Seth was still someone Rhys considered close enough to practically be family at this point and it seemed childish to throw away that kind of bond when it ran as deep as it did, not to mention the fact that they still had to work together – there was no point in making the workplace environment any more insufferable than it already was on a regular day simply due to working where they did. For a split second, the thought of handing in his notice with immediate effect and returning to London to spend the rest of his days in quiet misery seemed far more appealing than being the bigger person, but if he didn’t fix this now, he likely never would and Seth deserved an attempt at repairing their relationship at the very least. Rhys made no attempt to get in the spirit of things – participating in anything Halloween-related had never once appealed to him, not even as a child – simply choosing to head downtown in his usual finery, following the chord of the younger witch’s inherent magic that always allowed him to keep a vague idea of Seth’s whereabouts even from afar. The club he arrived at was Rhys’ worst nightmare in multiple ways, not just because of its owner and the witch’s soured feelings towards him, but also due to the impact of the jarring sensory overload and the very real threat of Roland’s presence also featuring. If he could get this over and done within a handful of minutes, Rhys would consider it a job well done and he could retire back to the comfort of entirely self-imposed isolation. 

Pushing through the crowd with just a little excessive force that was partially a byproduct of his rising discomfort at having to be in such an environment in the first place, it didn’t take long for Rhys to spot his fellow magic consultant and he raised his voice just enough to be heard over the music. “Seth– look, I’m not here to argue. I just– I need to talk to you. Outside. Five minutes, no more. Don’t wanna keep you from…” he gestured vaguely at their surroundings. “…this.”

[thaliaxtcrres]

Thalia takes another long sip, eyeing him over the rim of her glass. She has a composure she needs to keep, after all. There's a certain air that she intentionally carries with her to keep people at a decent distance, never really being able to crack her exterior well enough to get to know the person underneath it all. When she does pull the glass away from her lips again, she offers him a simple nod. "I'm usually the type to stick to alcohol, but you've got me curious. Impress me." Her glass is placed back on the table top with a gentle thump.

Well, she doesn't take the drink and walk off, so as far as he's concerned, the encounter is going swimmingly. He picks up the other, takes a deep drink even though the clean, refreshing taste of a mojito is definitely not what Seth would reach for... he's a dark liquor, rich flavor, pack-a-punch guy. "Good choice, though I got some ladies and gents around here who could help you blow it off even faster. You want a little taste test?"

[riptideripley]

Chapter One of: Addicted.

word count: 1,196

Ever since they first met Roman had been hooked. Seth had this spark to him that Roman felt like he could get high off of. June 2nd 2014 replays in his head every day and he just couldn’t stop it. Liv and Rhea worked through their issues so why couldn’t Seth do the same with him?

Friday rolled around and it was about time for the promo segment they had. Seth was sitting in his dressing room when the door opened, revealing Roman.

“Long time no see.”

“Yeah.”

The small talk happened often between the two, they seemed to never be able to get over what happened a whole decade ago. But only when Roman needed..him was when they would actually “talk”. They last time they found themselves “having a conversation” ended in them fucking in Roman’s hotel room.

“What do you need now Ro? Is it Rhea or..-”

“No it’s not her and it never will be. Just wanted to..check on you I guess.” he confessed, not daring to make eye contact with Seth. Truth be told he was actually nervous around Seth due to him being the only one to see him so vulnerable.

“I see..why don’t you close the door and come have a seat hm? We have 20 minutes to spare.” Seth spoke to which Roman obliged and sat down on the black leather couch.He didn’t speak, just sat there trying to form his words before he said something stupid. “Heard about you and Rhea last week, everyone was talking about it. You know you two really have to work that whole shit out before the whole world knows.” Seth broke the silence which quickly reminded Roman of what happened the week before.

Flashback.

“Rhea you know that wasn’t supposed to happen. I swear I didn’t mean f-“ “BULLSHIT. You swore no one and I mean absolutely no one would find out about that yet here comes Jimmy throwing the shit in my face!” The two went back and forth. What were they arguing about, you may ask? Well to cut shit short they hooked up after Rhea retained her championship at Elimination Chamber. They swore up and down it meant nothing to them but god knows they were both wrong.

“Rhea I’m sorry ok? He must’ve saw the messages in my phone ok just-“ “No Roman that’s bullshit. Why the fuck would he even have your phone?!”

“HEY! Can you two knock it off? People are looking. Take this somewhere private for fucks sake” Dominik finally spoke, having enough of them bickering. The two looked at him and looked at each other, choosing to go into her dressing room to talk.

End of Flashback.

“Yeah..we’re trying, she’s still mad at me and rightfully so.” “I mean I would expect her to be, you swore to keep it private but let your idiot cousin ruin it” Roman sighed and nodded at his words. Letting his head fall into his hands he sat there, not really knowing how to take in all of the stuff he’s been dealing with. Seth stood up from his chair and sat next to him, placing his hand on his thigh.

“Look Ro. Try talking to her next week alright? Now cmon we don’t have much time before the segment and you know how long your cousin takes.” he cracked a joke that made Roman laugh, I mean he was right cause my god did Rock take forever.

Fast Forward.

Everything was going fine in the segment..until Roman grabbed the mic. The second the words “crossdresser” left his lips, Seth’s mood completely changed. At first Seth could not even believe what the fuck he was hearing and then it hit him what Roman actually said. He knew Roman would definitely be paying for that later.

Hour and ½ later

“Seth you know I didn’t mean it just please-“

“No Roman I don’t want to hear it. That’s what you wanna call me now really? Oh just the other night you were calling me d-“

“OK! Jesus I get it. Look I said sorry ok?”

“Don’t wanna hear it. Meet me in my room got it?” “..Alright.”

20 Minutes Later.

“Seth can you- not tease like that..” Roman breathed out with a slight whine, being teased by Seth for 5 fucking minutes that felt like an eternity. “Someone is needy tonight huh pretty boy?” Seth chuckled out, finally giving into what Roman wanted. “Damn near didn’t need any l..lube.” Seth breathed out as he eased himself inside. Roman’s breath hitched as he gripped onto the sheets in front of him. He attempted to reach back to hold Seth’s hand but was quickly slapped. “No touching. For me to be a crossdresser you know..you seem more like the type.” he spoke with a small laugh at the end, not wasting his time as he began thrusting at a rough pace.

Roman’s body damn near fell forward if it wasn’t for Seth holding him up by his waist, with all the teasing he went through on the way to the room and during those 5 minutes he was sensitive. “S- Seth-“ Roman choked out, already feeling like he was getting close with the insane pace Seth was going at. “Cmon pretty boy..you know that’s not my name.”

“f..fuck. please daddy” he finally whined out making Seth smile. “That’s more like it..” he chuckled out, lifting one of Roman’s legs over his shoulder. The position was nothing new for the two but it always made Roman let out the sluttiest high pitched moan you could ever think of. Roman was a babbling mess at this moment, unable to even form a proper sentence. “c..close” he built up the courage to whine out. “Fine pretty boy.. let go for me” and with those exact words, he came. Seth wasn’t far behind and before Roman could even process everything, Seth pulled out and flipped him around.

“You know what to do.” Oh he definitely knew.

15 minutes later.

“Roro..Cmon get up big boy” Seth sighed as he lifted Roman up off the bed, sitting him up straight to wipe his entire body down. Roman just sighed and rested his head against Seth’s shoulder.

“You going back to your room”

“Yeah..just give me a minute.”

Seth nodded and let him down carefully to lay there, placing his clothes in a pile on the chair next to the bed(it wasn’t there before🌚). Seth went to the bathroom and got a wet towel, leaning down to clean up some spots off the floor.

Roman sat up and slowly put his clothes on, not really speaking to Seth. This happened often between them, they would just fuck and not speak. It pained him but he would never mention it. Seth watched as Roman grabbed his stuff off the night stand and walked to the door.

“Hey..make sure to call me tomorrow alright? I have something planned for you.” Seth spoke as Roman opened the door making him stop.

What in the entire fuck was Seth planning??

“Yeah..alright.” he responded and walked out the door.

[blcssom]

closed starter for @lvciddreamt ft. seth barlowe

finding them had been easier than he'd expected, and even approaching them hadn't given him too much trouble. now that they were out on the first date, though, seth found that wooing them was.... trickier than expected. "so——- what was it you said you do for work?"

[cardentist]

apparently there's discourse (not in the bad way, just the discussion way) surrounding lich and trans headcanons because of how he talks about michaela in the books

so here's my opinion as a trans person (other trans people are allowed to have different opinions but this one is mine):

I believe that mothy himself is well meaning about his trans and gay representation, but is unfamiliar with what We'd consider problematic. I'm not familiar enough with either mothy or the general culture of japan to say if this is the result of mothy himself being out of touch, or japanese queer culture just being different from the US's. but either way this is my read on the situation.

and so I engage with evillious with that in mind. it's a series that means well but has problematic elements. and that doesn't have to be a Bad thing, it's just something that needs some awareness while taking it in.

so when mothy writes lich openly acknowledging and accepting that michaela is his sister but then Also has him refer to her with her dead name I don't see that as mothy intentionally portraying lich as transphobic or unaccepting of her. it is, after all, how mothy chose to reveal that she was a trans woman in the first place (introducing us to "lich's brother michael" and having it revealed that she was michaela all along, and having lich acknowledge her as his sister now).

and I think there are two ways to go about this with this understanding.

we could simply gloss over the issue, because at the end of the day we're not going to be able to sit mothy down and explain why it can be hurtful to trans people. we don't have that direct communication with him. and it's not being written with the intent of being read as malicious on lich's part, so it's simply easier to smooth it over.

Or we could translate mothy being well intentioned but misinformed onto lich as a character trait. this works best within the context of him having to learn what he's doing wrong and grow, but obviously it's up to personal interpretation.

as for trans headcanons, there's nothing wrong with that in the first place. trans people are misinformed sometimes, nobody comes out of the womb socially conscious and fully aware of modern sensibilities.

having lich realize that they aren't a man could be tied into lich gaining a better understanding of transness. having lich be transmasc already and just not knowing any better because He doesn't mind these things and hasn't stopped to think that other people may feel differently. having lich be whatever flavor of trans you want in whatever way you want just because it's fun and you'd like to. it's all fine and doesn't hurt anybody

I would Also like to point out that levia has been making fun of behemo for wearing dresses and make up since she was introduced as a character, and people tend not to call her transphobic or highlight this as transphobia.

yes, there is more ambiguity in behemo's case as mothy has never stated outright what behemo's identity is, but calling someone you interpret as a man disgusting or weird for wearing dresses Is Transphobia (and was specifically highlighted As transphobia/bigotry that behemo has faced during barisol's child) regardless of what that person's gender actually is.

I personally like levia a lot, just like I like lich and behemo and michaela, and Personally I think they're all trans Because I like them. and I'm not saying that we should Start defining levia's character by this trait.

but I Am saying that it's an obvious double standard to hold lich as a character accountable while Not doing the same for levia when arguably levia is intentionally written as being harmful while lich isn't.

anyways, I think it's funny if levia realizes he's a trans man that still likes to wear dresses and make up, and I think lich is seth's boyfriend and banica's girlfriend and eater's -̴̱͔̫̭̎̆͆-̴̠͚͘͜-̶̺̰̙̦͗-̸̡̻̽̅-̴̢̹̰̠͐͑̃̈̑friend, and equally trans no matter what

(also potential lich and carlos dynamic intrigues me but I think it's much funnier if they aren't dating each other. banica's husband and banica's girlfriend silently and awkwardly eating brunch together because they figure they're supposed to hang out but between the two of them there isn't one drop of social intelligence)

(they do this every day, it never gets any better)

[blcssom]

unfortunately for eleanor, he'd already caught enough of a glimpse to recognize his own reflection. "i dunno, i thought they looked pretty good— but with such a compelling model, i guess it's no wonder." his grin is easy and disarming; a promise not to pry any further than she's comfortable, even if he's dying to. "though if you'd just asked i would've sat in a better position for you."

muse. eleanor temult. politician’s daughter & art major. open to. m / f / nb.

“wait, don’t— don’t look at those.” rushing forward, she tries to slam the book closed before they can catch a single peek at their own visage sketched across various pages. “they’re just… not very good, that’s all.”

[delusionallittleme]

Ever since i started to play zzz i haven't being able to shake the thought of that the entrance animations of the battle give so much self-aware vibes!!

We could say that is because of Eous since is the proxy companing the agents inside of the hollow but-- bro... the bangboo isn't tall enough for the sneaky little side eyes the characters gives to the camera angle

I swear they! are! meant! for! the! player! And i swear some of them are straight flirting--

Like have you seen Jane Doe's side eye??? Or the way Astra Yao enter the battle??? I bet that if they could they would straight send a kiss

Have you seen the ones from Zhu Yuan, Seth and Lucy? They are straight telling you with their eyes "don't worry, i'll protect you just stay behind me", others one who shows off is Nicole and Burnice, they look at the camera like "Just watch me, you wont like to miss this 😉"

or what about Harumasa caughing before the camera catch him, yeah he is trying to pretend that he is not sick (unlike him but i won't stop him from trying to show off)

But, you know what? Its not only in their entrance animation it also happens in the character menu!! No matter in what part you are the agents make a little animation while looking right at the player, its rare to find any character who doesn't look at the characters and if it happens it is in probable just one of all their animations

aaaand because the story telling goes more for a visual novel style while you are int he story the characters are looking at the screen!! The make little poses to change their emotions but thats the thing with visual novels, it stares right to the screen to make it inmersive, but now i can't get the self-aware au out of my mind

im not complaining, maybe is just me being delusional but i like this thought