#it’s frustrating that the thing I can do to help these victims the most is just talk about what they went through

[neverpathia]

crappy rant/analysis about the Voice of the Paranoid because I'm very normal about him

with that said.

It's pretty clear that he's not just scared. Anxiety isn't his only personality trait, and the game makes it incredibly prominent that he's no helpless victim. He's a starved animal backed into a corner, straining his chain thin, clawing and biting. He's desperate and frantic and charging at it all with nothing left to lose.

But I don't really think people talk about his spite and resentment as much, and it's a little surprising given how much he moulds it to his advantage. Still, he's not just sassy for the hell of it: he genuinely hates what he's being forced to do. He's incredibly frustrated. He's very, very done with your bullshit—and that includes his own bullshit too, because he's the scared part of you (Quiet) that turns your fears into reality.

So he despises everything that he's being put through (by you, himself and the other voices), and I think he definitely despises the rest of the Quiet to some extent. He's mainly driven by sheer desperation, but petty spitefulness is also very much involved—in Nightmare, he gets very quick to snipe at Hero despite having a job to do. He even prolongs the argument for a while before Narrator urges him to resume the chant.

And I think that just like the Contrarian, the Paranoid hates what he himself is too. Granted, @/sssilverspades and @/salty-an-disco brought this up, but all the voices probably have that same capacity for self-loathing and I think he's no exception.

He's the most perceptive voice, but at the same time he twists his perception against himself a lot. He's the reason Nightmare happened. He's the reason his fears manifest. And given how quick he was to figure stuff out in Cage and Apotheosis, I think he'd figure that his biggest problem by then was himself.

It's because he's not okay that they could stand a chance against Apothy...but it's also because he's not okay that she happened in the first place. He's very far gone here. At that point, there wasn't much left for him to do but pretend it all away—just a dream, just a dream—and shut his fears off.

He wants it all to be over with, which is especially apparent at the end of Apotheosis's Grace ending, or at the beginning of Nightmare-Wraith. He's doing what he can and keeping it going, but it's not because he wants to. It's because it's the only thing he's even capable of doing anymore. And it's turning him bitter, turning him resentful.

This is what you've done, and he's a part of you. He's regretting and atoning just as much as he's fighting, yet it's what he must do.

Let's not completely rid him of accountability, by the way, which is another thing I wish fandom acknowledged more. You often get him by abandoning the Princess and denying her what she wants. This is what you did: what he did from beneath you. And he's suffering for his own actions.

This is what fear does—it's perfectly natural to be scared and anxious, but you're not the only one it affects. Let it fester, and you lock yourself in. Let it fester, and you hurt yourself more and more. Let it fester, and you lash out against this hurt. Let it fester and you turn others as hollow as you've become. Fear helps no one. All you can do is amend and atone, which in a way is kind of what he ends up doing sometimes. Or you get Moment of Clarity.

As much as I love him, it's a bit hard to see people just praising him for being the goat (even though he is lol) because of how much he helps. Yes, he's a very useful voice. But he's the very reason he has to be useful, not that he even wants to be here.

I might just be completely misinterpreting his character here, though.

[tokkiiibunny]

Chick Habit | Megumi Fushiguro

13: 7 Words

Words: 1.5 k

Mainlist

I think you shouldn't have glorified, now you're wrong

Suck, suck, suck, suck

Suck, suck, suck, suck

Oh boy...

A part of megumi still refused to accept that he had screwed up, he kept wanting to think that it was your fault, that you were no victim and that you definitely deserved everything he had done but deep down he knew that he had been a fucking idiot, that he had taken things too far and that he had been doing for years the same thing that your former friends did to Tsumiki.

Megumi Fushiguro never regretted it, but maybe and only maybe at this moment he was doing it.

The more days went by the more frustrated he became and maybe, and just maybe, he was wondering what would have happened if he had figured out the reality of things before spreading all that shit about you, what would have happened if that first day of school he had responded to your cheerful greeting with a simple "Hi." You weren't the only one who had been wanting to do things differently.

"Did they hide what happened with that girl? It was horrible." Tsumiki brought up the subject in the middle of dinner, she only knew the story halfway and did not know that her beloved brother had been responsible. "poor girl, Mrs. Linwood told me she was a good girl, with all this she must not be having a good time."

"Why don't you shut up, Tsumiki?" Megumi was rude all the time to everyone, but he rarely had that attitude with Tsumiki.

"Megumi." Satoru scolded him.

"And shut up too, you have no idea what happened, stop acting like you care." Satoru leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, watched Megumi for a moment, he had known him long enough  to know that something is wrong.

"That girl, Yn Yl I think, she was in your class wasn't she? Maybe you can explain to us better what happened." Megumi hated talking to Satoru because he always felt like he knew everything, most of the time it was difficult to keep Satoru's secrets hidden. Megumi got up from the table and left the house slamming the door behind him.

They didn't know shit, no one did, you were just a fucking crybaby and he could have been so much worse. But God, he couldn't get you out of his head.

Although for a long time he saw you as the "enemy", the time he spent with you, those times when he wasn't being a bitch with you, he had really enjoyed your company. 

Because that smile that he had tried so hard to convince himself that he hated was actually the most beautiful he had ever seen, In fact, you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

You were pretty, funny, intelligent, you were full of good qualities, you were like a dream but he had broken you and there was no turning back. 

If he had to count how many times he had dreamed of you, the fingers of his two hands would not be enough. And it would be a lie to deny that his mind was repeating the two kisses he had given you over and over again because he loved remembering the feeling of his lips on yours. You were soft and sweet, the complete opposite of him.

Lately he had wondered a lot if he hated you or if he was just completely and deeply obsessed with you.

Yuji hadn't approached him since the Halloween party and Megumi really missed him but his pride prevented him from trying to talk to his best friend, Yuji missed him too but he was still angry about everything Megumi had done.

He was walking aimlessly, he was just trying to clear his head and forget about the small conversation he just had at home, he cursed that he didn't bring anything with him to help relax him.

The air was cold and his sweater wasn't helping to keep him warm But he refused to go home, he didn't want Satoru to question him again because he knew that he would sooner or later get into the truth.

That day he did not return until midnight and when he opened the door Satoru was on the sofa waiting for him.

"Where were you?"

"Don't start."

"Sometimes you forget who is in charge in this house." Satoru didn't seem to be playing at this time, even if his attitude was almost always playful and teasing, he looked Upset now.

"You're not my fucking dad Satoru." Megumi immediately cursed himself for saying that, but it was too late and he could only keep his defiant attitude as much as possible.

"I know." Tension filled the room, Satoru paused for a long time before continuing. "I know I'm not." Satoru preferred to keep his words to himself, he knew that anything he had to talk to him would be useless at this moment. "Go to your bedroom, it doesn't matter anymore."

That night was no different from the others where sleeping was almost impossible, now he was not only thinking about you and Yuji but he was also thinking about how he had been an ungrateful son of a bitch with the only two people who had taken care of him, Tsumiki and Satoru were his only family and yet he treated them like shit every time he was angry.

Sometimes he questioned why he was like that, what was wrong with him, to say that he hated himself would be too kind For what he really felt.

He was a cruel bastard too proud to admit his mistakes out loud, a motherfucker who every time he felt someone too close showed his worst side to puch them away.

The next morning he go downstairs to the kitchen And it probably wouldn't have been much different from any other day if it weren't for the very strange but recognizable figure that was on the couch between Satoru and Tsumiki.

Toji Fushiguro was like a blurry memory in megumi's mind, Although his voice was more than present in his mind because of all the calls he had received over the years, the way he looked was distorted among his memories.

He was strangely similar to him, Satoru had always told Megumi that he looked like his mother but he was also so similar to Toji that his stomach churned to, he didn't want to look like that man.

"Megumi." Satoru looked tense, in reality none of the three of them seemed too comfortable with the situation. "Sit down."

"What is he doing here?" but Megumi didn't try to hide his displeasure.

"Just Please Megumi." Satoru wanted to make things easier and although he knew that talking to Megumi would be useless, he tried to make him come to his senses.

"No. What is he doing here?"

Toji sighed and got up from the sofa, his expression far from the violent and strong face that Megumi remembered but still she was not going to trust him easily.

"I came to get my family back."

"You don't have any family here."

"Megumi." Satoru called out him.

"No, He's only here because he's old and finished, he doesn't give a fuck about his family, he doesn't give a fuck about changing."

"Just listen to him, Megumi."

"Shut up Tsumiki. Shut up, you three."

Megumi didn't go back to home that day, he didn't answer any calls, he hated Toji, he hated Satoru for accepting him into his house, and he hated Tsumiki for accepting back his father.

He felt stressed, tired and angry, he was fed up with everyone and couldn't leave his room because his fucking father was in the living room and didn't want to see him. After thinking about it a lot, he sent you a text message, he wanted to talk to you, he missed spending the afternoons in your bedroom.

You never responded, you didn't even receive the message, you had blocked Megumi's Contact.

Megumi was eating his breakfast when Toji arrived at the kitchen and patted Megumi on the shoulder.

"Are you going to talk to me, kid?"

"Never. touch. me. again." He got up from his chair with the intention of going back to his room but his father stopped him.

"Megumi, I really want to talk to you."

"But I don't want to. Look, I don't care about you, I don't want you in my life and you're never going to be my father. I lived without you up to this point and I prefer to continue doing so." Toji had never been present in his life, he didn't need him and he didn't care if this time he would change, he wasn't her father and never would be.  "I don't care what shitty story you tell me this time, but I don't want you to try to talk to me."

Notes area:

>Comments, suggestions and feedback are welcome

>Thanks for reading!

Taglist:

@soobinbunnie5 @anonymity-222 @hanakalovesbnha @starrysho @sylussss7 @Shortcakebbg @Szired @briezy04764

[philsmeatylegss]

Decided to do the Abu Ghraib prison as a project for one of my history classes. Not too big of a project; I have to do three a semester and they have to be detailed, but not like a final. Knew of Abu Ghraib, knew it was bad and a war crime and all that. I’ve skimmed only a few articles and yall,,,, I have never felt more like an ignorant dumb American than I have right now. Dark shit doesn’t affect me. I’m really interested in it. This is really one of the first times I’ve researched something and I’ve had to look away. I love history so much and I am so happy I am studying it and choosing to go into the field for a job, but sometimes you stumble upon something and you realize why ignorance is bliss.

[moonbakeries]

HOW I MANIFESTED MY DREAM LIFE IN A WEEK

BACKSTORY

So I decided to fully immerse myself in "persisting" and fulfilling when I listened to Lonely one by LOVA because I spent around an hour just sobbing because I related to the song.

the week that I started was around Easter break and I was under the most amount of stress I have ever been through and I could see it the effects on my body

I was breaking out with huge pimples even though I was on accutane, I was averaging 2 hours of sleep a day every week for 2 weeks, my period had going on for 2 weeks, I was losing weight rapidly (was under 35kg:( ) my anxiety was at an all time high because I got harassed again(sexual assault victim). I used to have severe depression and have had multiple failed attempts of suicide. AND YES I WAS DESPERATE AS FUCK TO MANIFEST THIS DREAM LIFE OF MINE WHICH IS NO LONGER A DREAM

in the mornings I would be super anxious but I learned how to deal with it and get myself into the state super easily

HOW I DID IT

I GOT OFF TUMBLR: you know how many times I doubted myself only to realise I was doing everything right

I also read and listened to Edward Art MULTIPLE TIMES

Within a week of fulfilling and persisting, I had manifested my dream life. just like that. I woke up one morning and everything I had ever desired was right there. and it was super easy.

all I did was affirm(to remind not to get), visualise and feel. I would only do these methods if I wanted to, if I didn't I wouldn't.

Within a few days, the anxiety lessened so much and it started to feel natural. 

this was a question on Bambi's " how I manifested with hard circumstances " post which has now been sadly deleted but I remember copying this because it gave me hope at the time I copied it (don't hope, just know)

"But isn’t ranting “not letting the old story die out?” you and i could rant until our minds are cleared, just as long as you flip my thoughts, you are on the right track.  I rant for 2% of my 24 hour days. The other 98% i was persisting in the fact that creation was done. as “time” went on, it began to feel more natural and I felt more at ease. I held onto that feeling because I knew this was when I would get my desires and I did."

and that was when I knew I shouldn't give up and I just kept going even when I wanted myself to just get on tumblr and overconsume 

I actually nearly decided to see what I was "doing wrong". I clicked on one of Aphrodite's posts but I didn't read it. I just asked myself if I would look through it if I had my desires and I wouldn't and since I already have all of my desires I didn't.

Whenever the anxiety was too strong and I could feel the frustration and desperation building up, I would just rant and it helped me calm down and get back into the state super easily.

why?

because STATES MANIFEST THOUGHTS DON'T

which is why you can rant.

you know how many FUCKING DOUBTS I had, but I didn't even give them attention coz they didn't deserve any and how many times I wanted to just give up, but I was like NO, STFU, I DON'T WANNA LIVE MISERABLY ANYMORE and now I'm not :)

The affirmations I used:

It is done

I am living my dream life

I am in my desired reality

The 3d will conform as long as i keep persisting

Imagination is the real reality

I also daydreamed, but since imagination is the real reality they were real

WHAT I MANIFESTED

- desired appearance

- name change

- family change

- skills (drivers licence etc)

- apartment and furniture

- wealth

- a bunch of random materialistic things

- desired friend group (I absolutely love them!)

- desired uni and always getting good grades

- outfits from pinterest

and a bunch of other things

- I also ended up manifesting an sp without even knowing and he's pretty much I everything I scripted him to be(scripted a year ago because I didn't really care for a relationship) but this happened before I manifested my dream life

after a year and half of being on loablr I finally manifested my dream life. and you can too

(there was probably over 100 things I wanted but I realised what I want is not much, nothing ever is when you know about loa and yes, i was super desperate)

you don't need anymore information other than @angelsinluv states post and fulfillment challenge

you shouldn't ever be stressed or worried while manifesting whatever you want, because you wouldn't stress if you had it

TAKE YOUR TIME

YOU GOT THIS

[inkskinned]

there's a video on instagram of a man kicking his partner's door in. the top comment is (with over 4 thousand likes): "how about you tell us what you did to make him that angry?"

barring emergency, nobody should be kicking anybody's door in. many of us lived in houses where it was always, somehow, an emergency. there is a strange, almost hysterical calm that comes over you in that moment - everything feels muted, and you almost feel, however incongruently, like you should be laughing. you are living inside of "the emergency." oh my god, you think. i am now a fucking statistic.

there is another comment with 2.8 thousand likes: "if this was a woman doing it to a man, nobody would give a shit."

do people give a shit now, though?

barring emergency, the door should remain standing. the emergency should be panicked, desperate - "i'm coming in there to protect you." many of us know what it feels like when the emergency is instead "i'm coming in there to get you."

1.5k likes: "and yet you post this for notes. glad to see being the victim has become your whole personality."

hysteria is a word connected to womb, from greek. what you're experiencing is so senseless and inhumane that you (a rational creature) try to find any ground within what is irrational and cannot be explained. one of the most frustrating things about staying in bad situations is that we also lie to ourselves. we also ask ourselves - wow. what did i do?

women can be, and often are, also abusers. abuse is not gendered. abuse is not just a "straight person" problem. abuse does not have a face or figure or sexuality. you cannot pick an abuser out of a crowd. an abuser could be actually anybody.

and then so many people rally behind the man kicking the door in. here is something nobody should be doing, right? you want to ask every person that liked that first comment: do you ask this because you side with him? do you ask this because it helps you feel safe from this ever happening?

in some ways, you're weirdly sympathetic to the top comment, because it is the same logic you see frequently. the idea is that the average, normal, sane person doesn't just break down a door. doesn't just shoot up a school. doesn't stalk and kill women. doesn't threaten sexual assault. doesn't run over protesters. doesn't shoot an unarmed black person. doesn't scream at underpaid walmart employees. doesn't just "lose it". something had to have happened, right? because the default (white. straight. cis.) - that is someone who is always, you know. "sane."

(right?)

on a podcast, you hear a sane, normal, rational person. "if you piss me off, i'm going to need to hit something. sorry but i'm not apologizing. that's just who i am that's how it is." his voice almost sounds like he's laughing.

you think of the door, and how you were almost laughing behind it, too. ironically, every real emergency in your life has almost felt peaceful in comparison. fire, car accident, flash flooding - these felt quiet, covenant to you. you'd stood in all of them, feeling them pass over and up to your chin, never actually overwhelming.

but when the door was coming down, you had felt - is there a word for that? there has to be, a word, right.

surely one of us has figured out the word for that, i mean. it's such a large fucking statistic.

[heliza24]

Consent and Abuse in The Vampire Chronicles (and how it explains things like Daniel and Louis's disappearances)

TW: discussions of abuse, sexual abuse and rape, and CSA throughout this meta.

I’ve now read the first six Vampire Chronicles books, and I want to talk about the role that consent, or more importantly, the lack thereof, plays in the morality the books espouse. When I was a few books in, I discovered this post by @diasdelasombra, which uses excerpts from several scholarly texts to create a schema that helps us understand who Anne Rice considered a “worthy” victim of abuse. To summarize, the characters that Anne favors and who are featured in the narrative were violated against their will, but don’t whine about their misfortune. Instead they extend grace and forgiveness to their abuser. (Think of David or Lestat) The characters who are portrayed as conniving, wicked, or who are punished by the narrative are those who don’t adequately protest their assault, or who harbor anger or plans of revenge towards their abuser (think of Claudia).

When I say abuse here, I am specifically talking about sexual abuse and rape, but also being turned into a vampire against your will. Being bitten by a vampire is obviously sexually coded, and being transformed into a fledgling vampire nonconsensually is a metaphor for a rape. So I’m going to spend this meta talking about nonconsensual turnings interchangeably with rape.

When I read about the dichotomy of victimhood detailed in the original post, the books suddenly shifted in my mind, and I felt like I understood Anne as a writer for the first time. I love these books and their resulting adaptations, but I do believe that Anne had many flawed beliefs, and this insistence that the only proper response to assault is complete and total forgiveness of the perpetrator is certainly one of them. I want to take the theory put forward by the original post one step further, and propose that in addition to imperfect victims, Anne also struggled to write about characters that engaged in sex/vampirism consensually. This feels very Catholic to me; you’re allowed to enjoy sex, but only if you didn’t ask for it. It’s the lust and the longing that’s sinful. It’s this discomfort with consensual desire, along with the insistence that victims must forgive their abusers, that is at the heart of many of the most frustrating aspects of the Vampire Chronicles. It also drives some of the conflict I see in the fandom, and has the potential to impact the TV adaptation in interesting ways. I talk about all of that in detail below the cut:

We can see this central belief about abuse and worthy victims easily in the characters Anne chooses to feature. Lestat, David, and Marius were all turned against their will, but crucially do not linger, protest, or whine once the act is done. Lestat is incapable of holding any kind of grudge, Marius approaches vampirism and eternity with calm stoicism, and David immediately forgives Lestat for turning him against his will.

I think this is key when we try to understand why Anne wanted to replace Louis with David as a companion for Lestat. Louis’s turning is complicated; you get the sense that he did consent to it, even as he tells Daniel that he “can’t say that [he] decided” to become a vampire. And even though he does forgive Lestat at the end of IwtV, the telling of the story in that book is filled with resentment and anger. Louis is not a perfect bastion of forgiveness by any means. Anne talked about how she wanted to move on from the grief that Louis represented and also the passivity he embodies as a character (which she classifies as uniquely feminine, which adds another dimension of meaning to who is allowed to consent to sexual acts and remain angry at abuse) but I also have to assume that she wanted to move on from his anger. Which is actually a huge disservice to Louis, Lestat, and the complexity of the narrative.

The other characters who are turned consensually are all abandoned by the narrative. Madeleine is killed, Gabrielle largely disappears after TVL, Nicki kills himself, and Daniel goes mad and is then simply forgotten.

My love of Daniel is the reason why I started stringing this theory together. Daniel is the most clear-cut case in the entire chronicles of a consenting adult who deeply desires to become a vampire. He has no reservations, no resistance. The Devil’s Minion chapter is unique in that it lingers on Daniel's love and desire. Daniel is briefly allowed to want something unabashedly that is also coded as sinful and evil. And once the consummation of his desire happens, Anne simply doesn’t know how to continue to writing him. Armand’s insistence that fledglings will come to hate their makers seems in some ways to be a result of Anne’s worldview, that desire cannot cannot endure unpunished, rather than something Armand would believe in-universe (he never hated Marius, after all). When fans rail at the way Daniel’s story seems to disappear from the page, this is what we are protesting: Daniel’s desire deserved to be shown, Daniel deserved to evolve, and Daniel’s willingness does not require rebuke.

There is of course another interpretation of the Devil’s Minion chapter, which is that it is Armand playing out his and Marius’s relationship, but this time with Armand in control. In some ways I think the Devil’s Minion chapter is the one successful attempt Anne makes to subvert the cycle of abuse. Yes, Armand is re-enacting many of the things done to him, but Daniel is happy to do this role play with him, at least for a while. While far from perfect, their relationship manages to turn abusive history into present day kink, and exist in a context of mutual care.

Armand himself is probably the most interesting edge case in terms of Anne’s dichotomy of worthy and unworthy victims. He asks to be turned into a vampire, but he’s also a child, which makes his ability to consent unclear. (Whether Anne even believed that child sexual abuse was possible at all is up for debate; she wrote a message on her “fan voice mail” that is still transcribed on her website that defends a convicted pedophile and seems to argue that 14 and 15 year olds are effectively adults and therefore cannot be abused. Yikes yikes yikes.) This kind of uncertainty seems to be reflected in the changing way Anne writes Armand throughout the series. He’s evil at first in the same way that Claudia is evil; a conniving forever child who is smart and vicious enough that what was done to him can be justified. But Anne softened on Armand after Queen of the Damned. As the series goes on, Armand comes to resemble Anne’s perfect victim more and more. He forgives Marius relatively quickly, for instance, for turning Benji and Sybelle without his consent.

For Marius (and Lestat) overcoming victim status also means becoming the abuser, the rapist, the perpetrator of the dark trick. The only way to not be trapped under the cycle of abuse is to perpetrate it. Even though it is hidden in a lot of language about love and forgiveness, this theme is ever present in the Chronicles and to me it’s where the true horror of the books lies.

We see these values begin to be applied to world building and the book’s overarching philosophy more and more as the series progresses. Akasha is the big bad in Queen of the Damned because she represents the ultimate lack of forgiveness. She is angry at all the men in the world for their collective abuses (a world view that seems to originate at least partially from the overly protective and restrictive way Enkil treats her, in my opinion) and seeks to kill them. She is an unquestioned evil, in a way that most characters aren’t in The Chronicles. And Maharet and Mekare, who are much more forgiving towards Khayman, one of the perpetrators of their own rape, are the ones able to defeat Akasha. Forgiveness and grace trumps righteous anger every time.

Memnoch the Devil is an interesting book (even if it is not a *good* one, imo) because it spends its pages interrogating this idea of abuse and forgiveness, but blows it up to a theological scale. Memnoch’s main argument with God is that he lets humans suffer needlessly. Memnoch feels that all that is good and holy amongst humans can be found in the way we love each other and find joy in sex, art, food, and celebration. But God requires humans to suffer through disease and death, and sometimes even violence brought about by religion. When Memnoch is put in charge of hell, he makes souls worthy of heaven by working on them until they are ready to forgive God for the suffering they had to endure during life. That’s what makes you worthy of heaven: forgiveness. I find this so interesting because it almost feels like Anne is arguing with herself over philosophy and religion. Memnoch is very convincing and his belief that joy without guilt is good is given due weight by the narrative. In some ways it’s what these books are about- sensual pleasure without guilt. But on the other hand, Memnoch is the devil (if that- Lestat is never quite sure if he’s really the devil or just a malignant spirit) which means we shouldn’t trust what he says. The idea of God as the ultimate abuser— the person who puts humanity through unspeakable horrors on a wide scale, and then requires our forgiveness in order to find peace— really chimes with the way that Anne writes about abuse in the rest of the series. According to this view, the cycle of abuse is absolutely inescapable. It is decreed by the almighty, and the only way to not be completely crushed by it is to accept its omnipresence and embrace its perpetrators without anger.

This focus on forgiveness is clearly a huge part of Anne’s (and therefore the vampires’) worldview, and I of course find that pretty problematic. But I also think it hurts the reader’s ability to connect to the characters and can have the unfortunate side effect of draining the books of the conflict needed to create a propulsive plot. The vampires’ inclination to completely forgive those who have wronged them, and to not linger at all in any feelings of anger, grief, or resentment, sometimes leads to baffling situations where conflicts that loom large in one book are completely forgotten in the next. The most jarring example of this to me is Armand casually playing chess with Santino in Queen of the Damned. Santino! The vampire who kidnapped him, forced him to eat his best friend, and generally tortured him. And they simply never address this. They just start playing a casual game of chess on Night Island after Akasha has been defeated. Situations like this can make character seem like they are acting completely out of character, and it makes it hard to understand their motives. Yes, there’s the in-universe explanation that time heals all wounds and eventually vampires just live long enough that they can’t hold any grudges. But I still think it’s reasonable to assume that Armand would hesitate before casually engaging with Santino again, no matter how long has passed. This kind of automatic forgiveness also means that we skip over so many conflicts that that would be fascinating to read about. If Armand and Santino really do need to reconcile, I want to see what that looks like. I want to see Armand remember Ricardo when he looks at Santino. I want to see what David and Lestat mending their relationship after Lestat’s violation looks like. But we don’t get any of that and instead the vampires move seamlessly on to something else, which is often much less interesting than these interpersonal conflicts that Anne ignores. And because of that, I think this focus on forgiveness creates books that are less fulfilling than they could be.

I think this focus on forgiveness is also at the heart of some of the conflict I see between book readers and show-only fans. I often see book readers talking about how Armand and Louis come back to each other later in the books, that Louis forgives Armand enough to live with him again for a time. And this makes sense in a book universe that prioritizes forgiveness above all else. In fact it actually signifies positive character growth for Louis, as it means he is becoming closer to Anne’s definition of a worthy victim who can forgive those who wronged him.

Fans of the show insist that the TV version of Louis will never forgive Armand, and for all I know they might be right. The TV show has shown that it’s very capable of taking the events and themes that Anne presented and reframing them. The show is already presenting a more critical depiction of CSA, in my opinion, by doing things like eliminating the incest subtext between Louis and Claudia and making it clear that Marius groomed Armand. I also think the show does a better job of keeping emotional stakes consistent. Louis may forgive Armand, but something more substantial than time passing will have to happen to facilitate that in the TV show. So show Louis may indeed never forgive Armand, given those new parameters.

In its efforts to reframe some of Anne’s themes, I believe the television show is shifting the emphasis on forgiveness slightly. Louis’s arc over the first two seasons depends on him reaching a state of forgiveness, not for an abuser, but for himself. He extends grace to Lestat as part of this process, but I really believe that the catharsis comes from Louis embracing his own failings and his own power, and moving forward with confidence. He has not forgotten his anger or the things that were taken from him, but he has the ability to face the rest of eternity now without self-recrimination. I imagine moving forward that this is going to be a major theme of the show. No matter if you sought vampirism out or had it thrust upon you, you must learn to how to deal with its horrors and its perks. You must learn to embrace your own monstrosity and not shrink from it. And you must find a way to accept the love that those around you are willing to offer, whether or not you always perfectly deserve it. I think these are lessons that Lestat, Armand, and even Daniel have yet to learn in the television show. Those character arcs are going to fuel the show through its coming seasons, and I for one cannot wait to see it unfold.

I’m interested to hear from other readers to see if they picked up on these themes, and how they anticipate the show will adapt them. Please tell me your thoughts! And thank you for reading this far.

[the-clock-of-the-time-dragon]

[Wicked Act II spoilers]

[edited for tone and clarity of purpose, apologies for initial crudeness and frustration]

Okay, obviously I'm biased, but I'm gonna need the Fiyeraba shippers to please set a lot of your people straight about some things. I've seen way too many people trying to say that Glinda is just a selfish bimbo and that Fiyero is a virtuous and selfless figure more worthy of Elphaba's love. I'll set aside for now the idea of "worthiness" in this context. But let's start off with Fiyero joining the Wizard. Hoo boy...

Yes, he was initially somewhat less tolerant of the propaganda against Elphaba than Glinda was; yes, he was secretly trying to find her so he could run away with her or whatever. But honey: those facts DO NOT fully absolve his actions as the Wizard's top officer, or selfish recklessness throughout Act II. I see so many popular threads and posts romanticizing and whitewashing with "oh but he didn't REALLY join the Wizard, he just pretended so he could try to get to Elphie! It's all for love, and he sacrificed everything for her!" As if the literal captain of the literally fascist forces responsible for the oppression of Animals wasn't equally responsible for said oppression?? Hello? Fiyero really didn't think of seeking out Elphaba in ANY other way that DIDN'T involve becoming *checks notes*... the trusted leader of the troops committing all the abuses she's fighting against in the first place???? Like it's cool and all that he helped with Brrr, and it's all well and good that he planned on betraying the Wizard as soon as he found Elphaba (which took literal years, so I guess we're left to assume he was prepared to just keep doing fascism indefinitely if she didn't show up????), but uh... it's kind of concerning to how eager some of you are to make excuses for this dude volunteering as the head of the Ozian Gestapo??? smdh

He didn't accomplish anything from it either, by the way — like yeah, we get it, he did everything he did whilst silently fantasizing about running away with the Witch he was being paid to hunt. Fine. But I can't be the only one who doesn't buy that as an actual excuse???? Like, guys: nobody forced him to join the fascist army — even with crazy ulterior motives. He wasn't coerced into it; it wasn't his only choice or anything. Searching for Elphaba did not somehow compel him to go and volunteer to follow (or to give!) orders in the name of the dictator who was trying to have her assassinated the entire time. He could have just not done all that. (Genuinely so curious how the second film plans on covering that material tbh)

Glinda made several questionable decisions that can be (and have been) debated, but she is still very unambiguously a victim. Her position in the Wizard's regime was foisted upon her. There are things we can discuss, but I find that many folks need reminding that Glinda would undoubtedly have been disposed of (or worse) if she failed to make herself useful. I mean hell: she wasn't even supposed to meet the Wizard in the first place — she was only there because of Elphie. If she'd tried to resist, it would have immediately gotten her labeled the Witch's accomplice. As soon as she'd chosen not to get on the broom, her fate was out of her hands, and all available options were varying degrees of horrible.

That's not the case with Fiyero. He went to the Wizard all on his own; no one ever cornered or forced him into it. Thinking Animals are people, and having a crush on Elphaba, simply did not stop him from carrying out the regime's orders — for years. It's not clear exactly how long he's been captain at the start of Act II, but the clear implication is that he's been a soldier for most of the time skip. I've seen Fiyeraba accounts with headcanons about him acting as a double agent, secretly doing stuff to help Animals — and that's a great idea, it would indeed serve to make a lot of his actions way more palatable — but until we actually get to SEE some of that (maybe they'll add it for the movie version of Act II; we'll have to see), there is nothing in the story to suggest that. He certainly didn't do a damn thing for all those Animals who were enslaved and caged in the Wizard's palace — and we don't see a single other Animal outside of there in Act II, so as far as we know Fiyero has participated over those years in the near-total removal of Animals from Ozian society. In the name of "finding Elphaba". Not fighting for her cause. Just finding HER. For HIMSELF.

It's fine to have a ship you like, obviously — and there is genuinely a lot to like about Fiyeraba, I don't dislike the idea of them as a couple or as friends — but come on guys: please stop those out there idealizing Fiyero as somehow a clear "morally-superior" alternative to Glinda, lol. The dude had power, access, and opportunities, for years, that he could have wielded in any number of really selfless, revolutionary ways. He didn't. And I propose (apparently controversially): he simply didn't want to. And that — at the end of the day — is (much as some would like to deny it) true to his character. He always WANTED to be self-absorbed and shallow, and all his actions are consistent with that. Elphaba saw depth and discontentment in him, yes: but (and I cannot stress this enough) when given the chance, he channeled that in the wrong direction. He didn't confront that and become a better person — for the most part he just displaced and projected it onto Elphaba as an object of obsession, and put on an even thicker pretense than before.

All his actions — regardless of the complexity he has deep down — are those of a man who never gives one fuck about anything or anyone, except (kinda sorta) Elphaba. But even then: at no time does the care he has for her seem to extend to caring about any of her wants or needs outside of sexual validation from him, or how she might feel about his actions, or indeed the impacts of those actions upon her, her cause, or anyone or anything else. I don't think it should be all that controversial to say: he doesn't think through the wider repercussions of anything he does — thoughtlessness is just one of his core character traits. He doesn't think ahead or see meaning in anything outside of what can temporarily excite him, in the moment. I think people place a little too much weight on Elphaba clocking him with regard to his internal pain, and seem to expect (understandably of course) that she is not only right, but moreover that he will grow from that in a positive direction, based on her influence.

But he doesn't. If anything, we get a surprising inverse: he pretty much proves her wrong. Not to say he didn't have hidden depth and all that, like she said: but his hypothetical heart of gold proves not to really amount to much in practice. He doesn't grow out of his shallowness and his self-centeredness: he grows into it in a way that he hadn't quite yet in school. Where once he was only masking an internal listlessness, after he's been cracked open by Elphaba he decides to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow, not just coasting by. He performs in new ways — as a soldier, eventually as a "fiancé", etc. — but by Act II we meet a Fiyero who has staked the last remaining shred of humanity in him on the vain pursuit of the only object of his desire that has ever been unavailable to him, and firmly chosen to say to hell with everyone and everything else.

When put to the test, Fiyero sacrifices Glinda, the Animals, and all else that Elphaba actually cared about, to pursue his own unresolved crush from college. Mostly to get in her pants, really — as harsh as I'm sure that sounds. But let me be frank: that is literally all he ever accomplishes in the show. He gives her dick one time, and one of his castles, and that's it. That's the culmination of his years trying to find her — years in which he actively worked as one of the stormtroopers (or even the one commanding them) committing untold crimes against Animalkind (who, again, it seems have been all but erased from Oz by Act II): y'know, the very crimes Elphaba sacrificed her life to try and stop????? He spent the most important time of his life — of his own free will — being a fascist soldier, but he "did it for her" somehow, so according to some, it's perfectly fine. Heroic, even. Yikes??

But let's make something very clear (since my original version of this post caught a lot of flak, including slurs and other rudeness):

I like Fiyero. I find his role extremely interesting (I could do a whole dissertation on him, but I'm especially a fan of the way his proving Elphaba's assessment of him wrong presents a fascinating parallel and contrast with Glinda, which I think is lost on a lot of people). But PLEASE stop with all the misguided Glinda slander and idealization of Fiyero. By all means, thirst! But don't give me all this bullshit about him deserving Elphaba more, or being super deep, or being really principled or noble or whatever else. He does have layers, and quite intriguing ones, but his insides are straw — he isn't meant to have some deep, overwrought emotional core or motivations; he has passions that he acts upon when given the chance. That's it. And that's fine. Actually kind of refreshing in a story rooted in simple children's fantasy but rife with intensely complicated personalities. Fiyero makes it his mission to represent denial of depth and embrace of raw, spontaneous desire — and I for one love that, and wish others appreciated it.

And in all seriousness, shipping wars aside: by the end of the story, it's Glinda who is ultimately vindicated, and has — for all her faults — made the necessary choices to fulfill Elphaba's wishes, bring down the regime, etc. And all that despite herself. She's miserable: not just because of the mistakes she made, but because of her correct moves as well. Fiyero is simply not — and could never be — that person. And that's okay! Like I said: I am not anti-Fiyero. Fiyero's willingness to throw it all away for the sake of sheer, overriding passion is a huge part of what people like about him, of course — and it's an obvious factor in the attraction between him and Elphaba, because she has her own flavor of that impulse as well — but I'd actually argue that it's not romantic, it's his fatal flaw. And thematically that's fantastic! But I just don't believe that it somehow means he "deserves Elphaba more" because he "gave up his life for her" or whatever. In part because NOBODY truly "deserves" Elphie tbh, not 100% (and I question anybody who claims otherwise), but ultimately because I don't accept the idea that his fleeting acts of passion make up for all the shit leading up to them (or even proceeding after them tbh). At least Glinda managed to do what Elphaba always wanted in the end — but I would die on this hill even if Gelphie didn't exist.

You don't have to agree with my analysis of Fiyero and his choices, relationships, etc. — that's fine. What isn't fine is trying to portray Glinda as some kind of spineless traitor whore for the Wizard and Fiyero as a conscientious hero who earned Elphie through self-sacrifice. That's just not the story that was written. It's WAY messier and more interesting than that.

[greenandsorrow]

the price for misbehaving (ii)

post rut Alastor x gn!reader

WARNINGS; the aftermath of a very horny fic, mentions of deer mating season, friends to lovers, deer/doe!demon!reader, reader with self worth doubts, a sprinkle of angst, curly-haired!Alastor, undertones of Alastor being a momma's boy, mentions of his past, making out, fluff (literally), there's plot

Dividers by; @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune

Please do not repost or directly copy my work and don't use it on AI platforms either ❤️

From a smutty oneshot to a multi chap fic. Nothing can compare to the chunkiness of the 1st chapter, but I'm satisfied with this one as well. Enjoy you lovely beings and thanks for being patient with me!!! The art above is by @kalico-of-doom.

~masterpost~

The only time Alastor isn't smiling is when he's sleeping, you have come to realize. You can't help but notice how tired he looks as you lay motionless beside him. You start petting his ears and he groans softly, nuzzling deeper into your touch without even bothering to open his eyes. A small smile forms on his mouth, a real one. Is this really the same man that has been fucking you until your legs stop working?

In the morning you wake up in his bed, a daily occurrence at this point. However, you weren't expecting him to be staring deeply into your contemned soul.

"A- Al?"

Your voice is hoarse from sleep. You scratch your deer ears, flop on your back and stretch. Alastor keeps staring, studying you and every micro expression you make.

You can feel fear creeping into your gut. Is this the end? Is the rutting season gone? Does he want to kill you and eat you now? Will he kick you out? One thing is certain.

He doesn't need you anymore.

After all, you were just a friend helping him go through a difficult time. Nothing more. Still, you would be lying to yourself if you said that you haven't caught any feelings. From his forceful claiming -that hid a great deal of desperation- to his tender love making last night, Alastor has left more than just his mark on you. One could say that he owns you in the most primal and raw of ways, but if he chooses to deny that... -that's all it takes really- then you were nothing but a fucktoy.

"Um... I- I'm gonna take a shower"

Is that you doing the walk of shame? Alastor is a gentleman, why isn't he saying anything?! Not a single thing that could make you feel less terrible about the whole situation!

Now that his hormones have died down and you are far from aroused as well, getting out of bed and standing completely naked in front of him... It makes you feel exposed, vulnerable, small and inferior...

This new emotion, the deep embarrassment that has your face feeling hot and your stomach churning with anxiety makes you dress up and leave "your friend's" room in the speed of light.

You lock yourself in your much smaller room, preparing a bubble bath for your spent and tired body. You smile to yourself a little, remembering how Charlie had made sure you'd have your own bathtub so that you can read your books while soaking in the warm water.

Sinking in the now filled tub, having the water envelope your frame, cleanse your energy and take his scent off of you feels nice. You let your eyes droop until they close lazily, you allow your shoulders to relax, your jaw to unclench.

A long and audible sigh.

Your hands around your frame.

You start crying.

If another deer demon resided in the hotel, he might as well had spent his breeding season with them. You weren't special. The mere thought of such a thing is killing you. You were just another victim of the radio demon's manipulation.

Still, it's your fault as well. For believing this was more than what it appeared to be? Maybe. You are getting more and more confused by the minute.

But oh... the way he had been repeating your name like a prayer... It must mean something to him -you being there for him. You didn't even judge the way he had spilled tears of sexual frustration when handjobs weren't enough to relieve the ache in his loins.

Who else has seen Alastor Hartfelt of Pride under this light? No one. You are the only exception. He wouldn't have allowed you to get so close to him if he didn't trust you... Right?

As your thoughts keep overlapping and fighting with each other and you continue to cry softly, you peak up the all too familiar sound of static.

Another unfair thing! He can melt into shadow and go anywhere he pleases... The sound intensifies as he approaches... you? Is he really thinking of invading your space like that? You can't even cry and be miserable in peace! Not like you're in Hell.

"Bonjou! Konmen s'apé kouri? Huh?"

Not only are you not in the mood to ask him to translate what he just said, but Alastor literally spawned in your bathroom and he's now acting like this is an okay thing to do. The way he's readjusting his lapels and smiling smugly like he wasn't a grunting mess last night infuriates you even further.

"Can you please get the fuck out of here?"

"Mh?" he just stands there in his usual apathy. He's even holding his cane.

"Can you at least stop smiling for a second?"

"Oh ho! I'm afraid I can't do that my deer!"

"But you can definitely get your ass out of my room! I-"

The sound of your voice carries to your ears like a whining child. There's a lump in your throat that you're beginning to fear you won't be able to keep down for much longer. If your face and hair weren't already wet from the bath, then it would be crystal clear that you were weeping like an idiot before he saw himself in.

Alastor is quick to gauge your body language. You're hugging your knees -shielding your naked body from him. Sometimes you swear he can tell your emotional state by sniffing the air around you. It's like your scent is enough for him to piece together the puzzle that you are.

The radio demon scranches his nose.

"What's there to be so sad over y/n? Today is a beautiful day!"

Is he playing stupid?! Because if he's doing this on purpose... Well, there's not much you can do now that he doesn't need you anymore.

Your lower lip trembles at this terrible thought and the lump in your throat escapes your notice, resulting in a broken and weak sob to come out of you.

Tilting his head to the side way more than necessary and squinting his eyes, Alastor asks "Are you pregnant?"

You freeze and widen your eyes. "I- Is that even... even fuckin' possible in the afterlife?"

The fucker chuckles!

"Oh, I don't think so, at least not for lowly demons such as yourself!" The worst part is that he wasn't trying to insult you by saying that, but rather calm you down.

"Go to Hell."

"Ironic."

You can't help it now. You break down in tears. Your chest feels tight as the sobs ripple through your body and make your frame retreat to itself. In addition to your general misery, the water has gone cold, causing you to shiver.

The overlord places his cane against the tiles of the bathroom wall and crouches down so he is level with you. He won't let it show just yet, but Alastor is very worried. There's guilt eating him from the inside.

While he was in musth, in breeding mode -or in whatever you wanna call it-, he wasn't fully aware of his actions. Alastor's mind was blurred from the desire to mate and basically reproduce. Now that he's back to his senses, he has come to the unpleasant realisation that he might have caused you harm in the process of letting out his passion.

And this simply won't do! This deer demon has done cruel and vile things he doesn't even feel particularly bad about... but hurting you... He would never be able to forgive himself.

You were there for him and showed him a great deal of love and understanding.

So, that's the reason you left so hurriedly from his quarters... He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. HE DID THIS TO YOU.

Alastor's permanent grin fades just slightly. It is replaced by concern, evident in the way he looks at your trembling body in the water. He reaches out to gently touch your skin, checking for any signs of pain or discomfort. Your friend's voice softens, it's now filled with genuine worry and regret.

"I'm so sorry darling... I didn't know I caused you... pain."

It's true that you have many bruises and hickeys decorating various places on your body, but that's not the reason behind your breakdown.

"I- It's not th-" you just look down. You can't even explain yourself.

The radio demon's worry only deepens after your vague response and he quickly takes action to be by your side, pulling you out of the bathtub and into a tight hug. Alastor whispers reassurances in your ear, his voice filled with remorse.

"I'm so sorry... We should have stopped when it got too much."

No one has heard Alastor apologize before -not even God, for all that's worth.

His expression softens even further as he sees your tears that just keep coming. He carefully brushes them away, worry etched into every line of his handsome face.

"I didn't mean to make you cry. You must know that."

"I'm not in pain... Just sad."

You do look rather devastated.

Alastor is almost frozen in place from all the guilt since he can now see the bruises forming on your skin. The water camouflaged them, but now they are exposed for him to observe and take in.

He swallows hard, his voice shaking with emotion like never before. "Y/n... I didn't mean to do that. I didn't. None of it."

"None of it?"

Your voice is muffled due to how you have hid your face in his chest. At least he's warm.

"My intention wasn't to cause you injury or physical pain."

You look up at him, finally making eye contact. He's looking at you as well, eyes shining with regret, guilt and what appears to be shame.

What really surprises you, though, is the pleading tone of his voice. It's one thing to be vulnerable because he's hungry for sexual contact and another because he genuinely cares for you.

"Can you ever forgive me for this? I promise, it was never my true intention. I just... I got carried away. And now... It's not an excuse..."

"You really meant none of it to happen between us?"

"Now, now, little deer! Someone's getting ahead of themselves! That's not what I implied at all."

You sigh and settle in his lap.

"Oh mon cher, did you really think I regret our... stimulating times?"

Alastor's long arms press you against him, his clothes absorbing the water on your still bare skin. He then picks you up bridal style and carries you to your bed. It's not king sized like his, but he doesn't seem to care for such details right now.

"Now... Let me see you."

"I said I'm fine!"

"The artist will be the evaluator of his work."

"No Al! Artists get critics to evaluate their work."

"Hmmm, did you say something, dear? Cause I didn't hear you!"

It's a common tactic of his to hide his real feelings by being chatty and pleasant. You of course know that, but in your current state, it's very validating to have him take care of you.

So he did care. And he still does after having stopped necessarily needing you.

Alastor isn't joking around. He's searching your body, subconsciously writing down every scratch, every bruise and hickey, every bite mark.

Ears alert on top of his head, eyes wide open. He can even make out the shape of his fingertips on your hips... He turns you on your stomach only to discover his whole palms are imprinted on your buttocks. Meanwhile, you just allow him to inspect your body for as long as he wishes. All the crying has left you drained but also tranquil and calm.

"I'm fine Al. Really."

"Shhh, I'm not done evaluating the damage."

"It's just a bite or two."

"I drew so much blood..."

"Yes and?"

He just keeps observing, keeps rolling you this way and that. The scratches and the bruises are the most triggering to him. They remind Alastor of unhappy memories -back when he still hadn't taken good care of his father.

As long as he hasn't permanently marked you, it should be fine.

"I'll ask Niffty for some ice."

"N- no... Can we just... sit here? Like... cuddle?"

"You were my solace."

"What-"

He gently presses a finger on your lips to shush you.

"Thank you."

"You don't have to say that. It's not like I helped you with a flat tire or something."

"I don't do cuddling."

"Nor touching for that matter. But... It's not that bad, huh? Just let me put something on first."

You stand up and go to your closet to pick something to put on. Your hair is still wet and your legs still feel sore from your intense moments -but it was a big relief to know he still wants you in his life now the rut has ended.

Alastor's behaviour makes you wonder. He's contradictory. From fucking your throat in his radio station, to bending you over various objects in the hotel, taking you in missionary, against walls, windows and doors, he still seems pretty reluctant to give himself to intimacy. Unlike those times, his mind is now clear -no overwhelming heat involved. Intimacy equals vulnerability ...and to him vulnerability equals pain. The inevitable way in which things had worked out in his life.

"But we did sleep together until yesterday."

The radio demon cannot deny you. He's already sat at the edge of your bed, taking off his coat, shoes and anything else that could make the experience any less enjoyable.

"I wish I could say you'll take this to your grave."

You grin brightly and chuckle at his silly, little remark. Your confidence has been restored -to an extent- after he made it clear that he does concern himself with your wellbeing.

"But why don't you like being touched? Physical contact is a form of affection."

"Or a form of punishment, of intimidation, domination and... many other vile things, my dear deer..." His voice is too low for your liking as he says that.

You don't know what burdens Alastor's shoulders, but it can't be good -and I'm not even referring to his own cruelty and the pain he has inflicted on others. Maybe his opinion on physical contact is connected to the endless scars on his body.

"Oh well whatevs Al. I just want my cuddles."

The way his ears are pulled back and he looks at you almost like he's a shy and innocent boy makes your heart bit faster. At least there's no velvet rubbing off his antlers this time.

Alastor is extremely gentle and cautious in the way he handles you this time. He lays down on his back and you use his chest as a pillow.

It's a cozy place.

His chest. He has some fluff there, just like Angel, but unlike the former, he hides it under layers of clothing and keeps it unstyled. Still, it's undoubtedly soft and fuzzy and you like to sink your hand in it or swirl the soft fur around your fingertips. The radio demon isn't complaining -as one would expect. It's soothing to have someone touch his body in a non-hostile manner. It's refreshing to have someone appreciate his body as it is.

Would you also appreciate it if you saw him as he once was?

His father hadn't. He could handle the child of a mixed marriage, but Alastor wasn't just mixed, but also looked the part -and according to the racist beliefs of his father in the 1900's, that was a bad thing.

As you're happily nuzzled against his long and elegant neck, your friend's mind wanders. You lived during the 90's. What would it have been like if he had also lived during that period? Everything would have been different. The town he grew up in, his relationship with his parents, his career as a radio host -and a serial killer.

"Did you know that my hair is naturally curly?"

Your ears perk up at that and Alastor gently takes hold of them and pulls at them from the root, just slightly.

"That feels nice..."

"Oh I know."

"What were you saying?"

"Oh yes, my hair's curly! Since I was nothing but a tiny, adorable, baby boy! ...my mother... she..."

His hand lets go of your ears and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh.

There's a melancholy about him now and you feel the need to comfort him. He's opening up to you by being genuine and vulnerable. Alastor is sharing a part of who he used to be and the least you can do is listen. You resume your activities on his fluff, almost massaging the area. He seems to like it, for a moment closing his eyes and letting a sound like purring.

"Can you keep this up?"

"Sure Al."

"Merci. What was I saying...? Oh yes, of course... Mama and my curly mop."

The radio effect of his voice and his arms around you make you feel like you're a kid being told a bedtime story.

It's a good thing the other residents have gotten used to you and Alastor disappearing together for long periods of time. His soft chest fluff under the pads of your fingers only intensifies the feeling of being told a story while tucked in bed, warm and safe from the outside world.

"It's truly amazing how much power is given to hair in certain cultures. In my culture, dear y/n, hair texture served as an indicator of social status. My family -a wedding between a white man and a creole woman of colour... Oh ho dear! It was something else back then...-

As a kid, I was always the one teased for having “weird hair”, as if it didn’t match my other facial features. When school began, my sweet mama, she... she would put my hair in locs to protect the curls. Apparently, they didn't like that at school! So my father... he -radio static intensifies- he made my mother shave it. He claimed that if my mother and I wore our hair differently, then no one would take us seriously."

You take a moment to digest this new piece information. It's true that locs enclose the natural hair and help it stay intact. It's also true that Alastor grew up in a time when it was very difficult to be of a cultural background which was different to the majority's. You choose to not comment on anything -that's not your job.

You swirl some more of his fluff around your fingertips before moving your hand to his hair.

"Well, it's not curly in the afterlife."

You feel the vibration of his chuckle through your check that's resting on his chest.

"But it is!"

Alastor lets out a satisfied sound as he presses you even tighter against him and begins rumbling about his hair care routine. He uses anti frizz oils, heat protection oils and then blow dries it. Truth is, that's just the steps you managed to actually register in your brain, because a sleepiness started overtaking you as you stayed laying in his embrace.

You're now fading between consciousness and unconsciousness. It almost feels like you're floating. Is this what Heaven is like?

Maybe it is. Maybe it is not. But you did manage to find your little oasis in Hell. And so did he.

Alastor looks down at your much smaller frame curled up against him. Your breath has slowed down and your eyes are closing. Why does it feel so warm and soft to have you close to him like this? He knows he shouldn't be letting his guard down, but he can't help it when it comes to you.

The radio demon is enamoured with you.

Wanting to make the experience even cozier and dreamier for his favourite sinner, Alastor starts singing quietly. His sense of rhythm is immaculate and his jazzy tunes make you fall sound asleep in no time whatsoever.

When you wake up an hour or so later, he still hasn't moved, but he acknowledges that you're awake with a small hum.

"Oh wakey wakey my darling y/n!" had been his usual response to you waking up while he was in the rut. However, right now he appears to be much more unguarded and raw than his usual persona -no need to put up a show. You haven't even woken up properly and you're already wondering about this new side of him.

"Al? Is everything okay?"

"Oh why, yes it is, but there's this thought occupying my brilliant mind..."

"Care to share it with my not so brilliant one?"

You expected him to laugh or even chuckle, but Alastor goes straight to the point.

"All this... making love and we still haven't kissed. Not really."

Kissing him would mean you actually view him romantically and whatever "friends with benefits" situation you have going on will be destroyed. That's not a bad thing though. Despite your initial fears of your fellow deer demon being too emotionally unavailable and only needing you to calm down the torment of his lust, a kiss wouldn't hurt. Kisses are good.

"We can change that y'know."

You make the first step by leaning towards him, basically giving him the green light that you're consenting to this. Alastor notices it and wastes no time, pressing his lips against yours while wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close into another embrace. He smiles widely as you kiss, his head tilting slightly as he runs his fingers through your hair. After a few seconds pass, he pulls his head back, slowly breaking the kiss as he looks into your eyes with a broad smile -that reaches his eyes.

"Aren't you delightful?!" and he dives back in.

Alastor's second kiss with you is firm and passionate -but not overly aggressive. His lips are warm and he seems to enjoy the intimacy of it -taking his time to explore your mouth. As the kiss progresses, he gradually increases the pressure of his lips on yours. His arms wrap around your waist and his tongue slowly wanders further into the welcoming heat of your mouth.

Once again -just like when it came to sex-, you have come to the conclusion that Alastor isn't that experienced, but some raw power -an instinct if you will- provides him with the ability to do all the right moves at the right time.

And then, you just break character. You burst into laughter. His large and pointed ears twitch at that change of pace.

"When I thought I was doing a good job~"

"Oh no, that's not it at all. I'm just happy." You're giddy and so is he.

Maybe not needing you but actually wanting you isn't the worst case scenario.

To be continued.

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[g4rvez-r3id]

Let Me Stay

Ex! Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU Reader

Synopsis: You and Spencer have gone back to normal, somewhat. But it only takes one conversation to ruin that all again. All you wanna do is stay, but he won’t let you.

Category: Angst

Warnings: not really a happy ending, established past relationship, maeve arc, mentions of death and suicide, takes place during 8x17 “The Gathering”, mentions of 8x17 events, spencer being a lil sad shit, crying, reader was in a past relationship before spencer, it’s just really sad, let me know if i missed anything! <3

Author’s Note: here is part two to “when you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light”! it’s short and sad 🤗 might make a part three???

part one

After helping Spencer, things were back to somewhat normal. You’d both bumped up from only talking on cases to the occasional small talk near the kitchenette or asking how each other’s days were going when you both were in the elevator on the way to the bullpen.

Everyone seemed to notice the change but hadn’t said anything to indicate that they knew. But then you’d heard Garcia gossiping about it in her office the other day to Morgan.

“Can you believe it? They’re finally talking again! Isn’t that great? Small talk can lead into something more! Maybe they’ll finally get together again and my ship will sail!” She’d fangirl and you shook your head with a small chuckle escaping your lips. (She was always so hell-bent that you two would eventually get back together).

Not that you didn’t agree with her, you always hoped you’d get somewhere with Spencer again. You just didn’t know when you could. He was still in mourning over Maeve and you knew he needed time to heal before dating again. You’d wait forever if you had to, unfortunately.

He still seemed quiet during most of the cases or would bury himself in his work to avoid feeling his feelings. And you couldn’t say you blamed him, because if it were you, you’d do the same thing. You have done the same thing. So, with understanding, you left him alone. And you were waiting for him to come to you.

And then you had that case in Minnesota. Your unsub was Peter Harper, he had stabbed women and pulled their tongues out pre-mortem. And you knew that him pulling the tongues out had some kind of significance to him. The disparate set of women victims was chosen at random until they discovered one connection between the women and it was that they all have a very strong on-line presence, their deaths telegraphed by stories in their own online blogs, messages or texts.

They’d finally found him at a public pool, ready to throw a woman in the pool and to wait for her to drown and when the team finally found him, he’d had a knife to his neck, ready to kill himself. You and JJ tried to talk him down off the ledge and told Peter he’d get help and that everything was gonna be okay. But then Reid had spoken up, telling him the truth and the total opposite from what you and JJ were saying.

Peter had killed himself shortly after that. And Reid walked off in frustration. You and JJ shared a look, wondering what the hell that was about.

You’d gone back to the office after filling out your paperwork. You were ready to go home, to relax and to wash the stench of this case off of you. And while you were packing up, you’d overheard Hotch and Reid’s conversation nearby. You knew Hotch was questioning his decision with telling Peter Harper the truth — that it wouldn’t get better, that it was gonna be hard to get help.

And when questioned about it, Reid’s answer was simple. “Well, Hotch, I thought the last time I was in a situation like this, I did exactly what I was supposed to. I told a perfect lie and that didn't work, so this time, in the hopes of saving someone's life, I tried something different.”

And then it was clear what this was about. Maeve. And you’d known that he still wasn’t over her. And of course, it really hadn’t been that long since she died, the wounds were still raw.

When you saw Reid abruptly leave the convo between him and Hotch and head towards the elevator, you knew to follow immediately. You’d worried a lot about him since what happened with Maeve. And you guessed that you just wanted him to be reassured that he had someone in his corner.

“Spencer,” You called in the parking garage and he’d turned around at the sound of your voice and could tell by his sigh that he was in no mood to talk with you but regardless he stopped.

“Look, I really don’t want to talk right now—” And you should’ve just left it at that. But you pushed, like you always do. Instead of walking away, you interrupted him. “I don’t care if you don’t wanna talk, but you know what you’re gonna do? You’re gonna listen.” Spencer crossed his arms, obviously in defense mode as you continued.

“Spencer, we have given you time. We have been there for you thick and thin and all we wanna do is help—” This time, he interrupts you. “Have you ever thought about the fact that maybe I don’t want your help? That maybe what I need is just a little bit of space?”

With that, he walked off.

And you’d officially had enough.

“Do you really think that you are the only person in the world who has lost someone?” You exclaimed and Spencer stopped in his tracks, his back still facing you. “Well, you are barking up the wrong tree because — newsflash, Spencer — you are not the only person who’s lost someone. When I lost—” You pause, not wanting to say his name. “I was… such a wreck.”

You gulp, deciding to continue, hoping your words were getting somewhere with him. “And you helped me, remember? I never would’ve gotten through that if you hadn’t of helped. And I pushed and pushed you away but you didn’t leave. You stayed. All I’m asking is to let me stay.” You walk over to Spencer and he looks down at the ground, avoiding your eyes as you choose to stand in front of him.

You bow your head, wanting to meet his eyes as you put a waiting hand on his soft cheek. You move his head to look at you. “So, let me stay.” He can see the tears forming in your eyes as you practically beg him. His eyes gaze over to your lips before quickly going back to your eyes.

“Please don’t shut me out when all I wanna do is help.” You tell him and instead of nodding and listening to you and asking you to stay, he walks away. Because if he stays any longer, he might kiss you. And you don’t deserve that. Not right now.

He walks away, leaving your heart in pieces and you in shambles. He chose his path, so you must take the same route and forget you’d ask him to let you stay.

[userworldshadow]

I'm seeing people go "TCO this" and "DL" that. I don't care about those two. They're fine in my opinion. My hatred isn't for them, but for ALAN.

Victim's life began in early June, and he escaped Alan's laptop in late March. That's nearly ten months. In that time, Victim was subject to almost ceaseless torture.

Ten months of agony. To Victim it probably felt like an eternity since he probably had no proper concept of time given how often he was killed.

And Alan took JOY in this. He would play with and kill Victim slowly. Agonizingly slowly. Purposefully.

He took pleasure in watching Victim suffer. Instead of doing something else, maybe play a game on his computer, he toyed with him. It's emphasized this was a daily thing or at least constant to an overwhelming degree, given how the video emphasizes the months going by.

I'd also like to point out the duration of all this.

Ten months. Ten straight months of abusing this stick figure.

We even get a glimpse of Alan in the real world, on his floor in his room. His expression looks to be a mix of anger or frustration. But there's no hint of satisfaction or even a smile. He looks bored. Tired, even.

Maybe in the beginning Alan did what he did for his amusement. Not anymore. He does this because it's habit, or something to pass the time. It's something he does for the sole sake of doing.

And still he prods at Victim, trying to get some reaction. He only leaves because of his call to join dinner.

When Victim flees the laptop, it cuts away from Alan. I can only assume he made another stick figure to toy with to pass the time.

Eventually he creates the Chosen One and asks a friend for help. Given he knows someone that knows about the intricacies of living stick figures, that proves Alan knows they are self aware. Then he created the Dark Lord, and the two escape to cause havoc.

This leads to Mitzi being destroyed, giving Victim more trauma and grief.

Later Alan makes the Second Coming. The ONLY reason he is kept alive is because he's useful to him. TSC helps Alan draw, and in turn TSC can live.

My conclusion: Alan is the one to blame, to point fingers at. Alan is sick and twisted, and he's don't nothing for any of his creations save for giving TSC a life to live, and even that is dubious at best.

Alan had no remorse for his actions. He didn't care what he was doing to his creations.

Alan tortured and abused Victim because he could.

Doing something so heinous for the sole purpose of doing it because you can is the most evil thing a person could do.

TCO is not the bad guy. ALAN is.

[bridgyrose]

Something I do vastly enjoy about RWBY is that while it is willing to show villains as horrible people, it's also willing to show them as human and how most were failed by society at some point to end up on this path.

Salem was failed by the gods, not because they wouldn't bring Ozma back, but because they never really understood the grief that Salem was going through and thought making her immortal would help her understand the importance of death.

Tyrian, as far as we can tell, is mentally unstable and never ended up with the help he needed. So once he met someone who was willing to save him and indulge in his desires to kill, he latched right onto it.

Hazel was also a victim of his own grief, unaware of how his sister died beyond a training accident and blaming Ozpin for it. He managed to find Salem, tried to kill her and only fell further into the idea that Ozpin had to be stopped.

Cinder was abused for most if not all of her childhood, promised a way out if only she could hold on. But with nothing to really help her with the abuse and finally snapping, Rhodes hadn't even tried to understand her situation, only seeing her kill and seeing it as enough to arrest her. Eventually killing him and finding Salem, everything she's done has been in the name of power and freedom because she's terrified of going back to that situation.

Neo and Roman both ended up as criminals due to a lack of love. Roman was orphaned and Neo's parents treated her as something that was broken.

Even Adam was failed, only ever given reasons to give into his frustrations and anger, eventually using it as a weapon to try to put humans beneath faunus after losing himself to his anger.

At any point things could've been different for most of them. Someone to lean on, someone to help them, maybe there could've been other paths for them.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“So, are you just going to stare at my pretty face all day, or…?” The villain crossed their arms in front of their chest and rolled with their eyes. It was embarrassing enough, the hero didn’t have to rub it in.

“Is that such a crime?”

The villain let out a humourless huff. Their anger was evident, their frustration obvious.

And the pain, god, sometimes the villain couldn’t even breathe. Getting out of bed was already hard enough but being forced to work under these conditions?

Of course, it could have been worse. As part of their rehabilitation, they didn't need to do much, their work wasn't even that demanding.

But with their injuries, every move seemed to be unbearable.

“Just fuck off.”

“I have some documents to sign for you. My boss insists.” The hero fished a folder out of their bag and, unfortunately, they had indeed more documents. The villain found it quite unbelievable how much they had to sign. Although they knew it wasn't clever not to read over all of the pages carefully, they were too tired to do so.

They didn't really care that much either.

“Or better known as your excuse for visiting me,” the villain joked. Their side started to hurt again, a pain so cruel and prominent that they had to remind themselves to take everything slow.

It was actual hell. Not being able to do anything. Not being able to move freely. Although the doctor had assured them they were healing and doing well, the villain felt everything but fine. It had been over three weeks now and they were still waking up in the middle of the night. Pain robbed their sleep and pain robbed their mobility. They were impatient, they were annoyed.

The interrogation room was very familiar to the villain by now. Every week, they got to meet the hero. Either documents or lectures — whatever topic the hero chose, it was always a long conversation the villain’s body couldn’t manage towards the end.

However, they never said anything. The hero's visits were better than work. They were the best part of the entire week.

“I don’t need excuses to visit you,” the hero said, winking. They pushed the document towards the villain. “Sign here.”

The villain sighed. They didn’t even look at the paper.

“Can you ask them to increase my medication again at least?” the villain asked softly. They took in a deep breath and signed the document on the last page, their pen following their shaking hand's command as quickly as possible.

"I'm sorry, you're already on the highest dose possible."

"Oh." The villain put down the pen and stared at their nemesis. Their nemesis who had captured them. Who had put them in this situation in the first place. They seemed to be recovering just fine. They seemed to be fit and healthy, seemed to be in the prime of their life. Attractive and kind - perfection had carved itself through the hero. "...do you think the people here are honest? The nurses and the doctors, I mean?"

"Some of the best people in the country are working here," the hero said. "That includes medical staff."

"Okay." The villain's voice was quiet. They didn't understand the logistics behind a place like this, they didn't understand anything about the things the hero gave them to sign. "Did you know they're experimenting on me?"

"They take samples from your tissue or blood to look at in the lab. Seriously. You're not in any danger." The hero smiled sweetly and scratched the back of their neck. "I check the reports regularly and I talk to your doctor on a daily basis. It's their priority to help you."

"Why?"

"Well, you're a victim, are you not? We don't know much about the supervillain and their powers, so helping you recover could help us get more information on them. And considering your past, we have to...observe you in a special place like this." The hero leaned over the table to get to the document. Their fingertips touched the villain's knuckles by accident. "That's only one reason, of course. Most importantly, you were beaten to death and needed help."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Half your organs were hanging out of you when I found you," the hero said. Their voice was quieter now, maybe lost in their thoughts even. "I donated a kidney for you."

"You can be so romantic," the villain said. The sarcasm didn't really come across and the villain knew how half-hearted their jokes had become. It wasn't like they weren't grateful, it was just difficult to be saved and have a life when they had accepted their outcome a while ago. That day, they had accepted that they wouldn't survive. They had made their peace with it and then the hero had saved them.

And now, the villain had to live with this horrible pain.

With the nightmares and the fear. They had become a stranger in their own body. It didn't feel like they had control over themselves anymore. Although the hero was right, they couldn't help but feel like a lab rat.

"The point is...you're the only person who has survived them and if they find out you're alive..."

"A facility like this won't hold them back," the villain said. "It would be a minor inconvenience."

"I know, that's why-" the hero held up the document "-you just signed a request for special protection. With me being your caretaker."

Again, that sweet smile spread across their face but the villain didn't really know what that meant. Their poor heart skipped a few beats.

"Are you saying you'll be staying here?" The villain's neck started to heat up. Wasn't this a bit too much? Had they asked for too much? With the medication and the doctors...wasn't this too much effort for the hero to put in?

"I am saying you're coming with me if this gets approved. Which it will."

"Like, to your house?"

"Yes, darling." The hero leaned back in their chair and took in a deep breath. "I've been working on this ever since I found you. I knew the agency wouldn't let you recover in a prison that easily. I argued that you're a victim and a source of information. That brought you here. But still, they made you work in here which I argued to be counterproductive. The law department is pretty annoyed by me."

"I...I'm not sure what to say," the villain said. Their head was reeling. Maybe everything would be a little easier. Maybe waking up would be easier. Were they actually dreaming? They could be out of here soon?

"You don't have to say anything." The hero stood up and walked up to them. Once they were closer to the villain, they sat down on the table, looking down at them. "I just need you to rest."

"You didn't have to do this," the villain said. Their voice was shaking. "You didn't have to save me again."

"I can't help it. By the way, we have matching scars, did you notice that? I can't just leave you in here."

"You suck," the villain said, but there were tears in their eyes. The relief they felt was indescribable. This place was alright. The people were alright. But they weren't the hero. They weren't comforting. With their chair, they moved closer towards them. "You're so horrible."

They leaned their head against the hero's arm, too tired and overwhelmed to hold up the weight of their head anymore. Quickly, the hero went through their hair with their fingers, holding their jaw in their hands and guiding them to lay their head on their lap.

"Oh, honey..." They played with the villain's hair and scratched their scalp softly. Their fingers went over the villain's face, carefully avoiding their bruises. "I promise I will take care of you."

They stayed like this until visiting hours were over.

[faerievampling]

A Sweet Heart

Summary: Astarion follows the sweet scent of Tav's arousal to her tent, unable to help himself. Set in Act 1, after the clearing scene.

Word Count: 1.2k

Here's the link to AO3!

Pairing: Act 1 Astarion x Female Tav

Warnings: 18+, Explicit. PiV. Blood kink. Blood drinking. Biting. Vaginal fingering. Oral sex. A little bit of angst and sweetness.

A/N: I wrote most of this in a horny delirium last night. hope you enjoy!! 

Astarion could smell your sweet yearning from across camp. The two of you had thus far only shared a night; but the scent of your juices, your sweat, your blood…Astarion hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Hadn’t stopped thinking about how you had let him feed on you in your most vulnerable state.

And now, he could smell the rise of your swelling desire as you lie in your bedroll; he wonders if you’re touching yourself, or maybe having a naughty dream.

Astarion had been happy to choose you as his next ‘victim’. You were strong, competent, and beautiful. 

You were sweet to him. Your blood was sweet; even your cunt, which Astarion thought was rather pretty, was sweet. 

And you were still standing. Cazador never came and took you away, despite Astarion staying up all night, anxiously awaiting for you to disappear from where you slept beside him.

But you didn’t. You were here. And you were a naive, generous, and sweet little thing with a pretty cunt who could protect him.

Astarion begins to walk to your tent. Once he picks up on the beat of your heart, he knows you aren’t sleeping. He decides to utilize the tadpole rather than startling you by other means.

Which he could totally do uninvited, by the way.

“Darling, I’d like another taste of you,” He edges into your mind, offering an invitation. 

Astarion is excited when you accept. His fangs and his cock are aching for you. 

When he enters your tent, you are already in your underclothes, and Astarion can smell the evidence of your arousal; he doesn’t waste any time with words before he kneels beside you and embraces you in a kiss, hands trailing over your body as he listens to the quickening pace of that sweet heart of yours.

My sweetheart. Astarion pushes the thought away as he frees your breasts, taking you in hungrily before latching his lips to your nipple, remembering how much you liked it last time. 

Astarion trails his hand down your other breast until he is tugging at your underclothes, freeing you of them before he begins to take his own clothes off, coming back to your breast after each motion.

He really wants to bite you here, just above your pert nipple. But instead, he decides to kiss you, using his tongue to part your lips. He's decided that you aren’t a great kisser, and so he would have to teach you. 

Practice does make perfect, Astarion thinks, and it seems like a worthy investment on his part. You are rather gorgeous and you wouldn’t be taken from him come morning. 

As his fingers slip between your slick folds, Astarion hums against your lips, the evidence of his pleasure making you quiver.

The pads of his fingers find your swollen clit and begin to make slow, circular motions; the pressure of his fingers is so perfect, it sends waves of delectation throughout your body.

Astarion moves to your entrance, pushing a finger inside of you with little resistance. 

“So eager, darling,” He purrs before brushing his lips to yours again, this time trailing down to your jaw and your neck. As he eases another finger inside you, his thumb circles your clit, causing you to clench around his fingers. 

Astarion begins to feel his own underclothes wet with his precum; his cock was begging to be freed of its restraints. 

He has you unraveling beneath him in minutes. With each kiss, each roll of the hips, Astarion grows increasingly frustrated until he eventually frees his cock, eyeing you hungrily before placing himself between your thighs. 

When he removes his hand from your cunt, a string of your juices follows, and it is so lewd that he thinks about just ramming his cock and his fangs into you right then and there; using you like a toy, to be discarded after use.

“Oh, you naughty little thing,” He says under his breath. 

But another part of him thinks that he just wants another taste of you. 

Astarion wraps his hand around his cock as he uses his fingers to spread your folds. He eyes your sex with anticipation before tenderly placing his lips around your swollen clit. 

Astarion's lips look lovely on your mound, and you can't help but run your hand through his beautiful curls as he consumes you.

His tongue is soft, almost feather light at first, before he begins to lap and suck at you. Astarion thinks that you taste even better than before. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re trembling beneath him, the shocks of your orgasm reverberating throughout your body as you come on Astarion's tongue.

The smell of your juices and sweat invigorate him, and he wastes no time: once Astarion has lined himself up with your entrance, you feel the weight of his cock slowly pressing into you until he is balls deep.

You squirm around his length as he takes a nipple between his fingers and squeezes, giving you a smirk before bending over and planting his lips on yours again.

He lowers his head to your neck, breathing against the spot he liked to feed from. 

“Yes,” is all you manage to say before you feel the sharp pain as Astarion pulls you into a sanguine embrace.

Astarion moans against you, fully pressing into you as he drinks you in, his swollen cock immediately knocking into that sweet spot deep inside you.

You moan, gripping at his hair and trailing a hand down his neck, his back. You feel your blood trailing down your collarbone as Astarion begins to stroke you; his pace is slow, deep, and it follows the pull of your blood by his pretty lips.

You swear you feel his cock harden even from within you, and when he pulls away, his cheeks are flushed with your crimson.

You feel woozy as he continues to fuck you; Astarion is lapping up the spilled blood, one hand on your waist and the other on your breast as his pace quickens, causing you to moan with each thrust.

Suddenly, Astarion pulls out of you fully before sheathing himself inside you once more. The noise your cunt is making is obscene as the clap of him against you sends you into oblivion. 

You clench around him, moaning his name in his ear as he continues to slide his cock against your walls: but he is about to lose control, and once he does, you feel his thick spurts of come deep inside you as his tip bangs against your cervix. 

After you’ve recovered, Astarion lies next to you, putting his arm around you as he did the first night. You’ve fallen asleep next to him, and he watches as your chest rises and falls. 

He closes his eyes and focuses on your beating heart. It is steady, strong, and for some reason, open for him to explore. 

Astarion curses at himself for even thinking of doing such a thing. Yet here you were, in his arms, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. 

Gods above. It could never be that simple, could it?

Masterlist

[w4w4lycsss]

EXTRA CLASSES | MORGIE LE FAY

Request: Morgie x gn reader where the reader tutors morgie and is a goody too shoes, but is terrified of him since the reader is Merlin's child Pairing: Morgie Le Fay x gn!Merlin's child A/n: I was asked for this request by private message, I don't mind if you write to me there if you have any ideas!

You tugged at the sleeves of your sweater before sighing in resignation, entering the library and cursing yourself for having accepted the favor your father had done for you. You always had good grades and you were diligent, the best in the class, so you weren't surprised that the people asked you for help with certain jobs, and you liked to help.

Now you were really, really regretting being so approachable and kind, because you're inside the library looking around for Morgie Le Fay to help him with his grades and be his tutor. You sigh in resignation, trying to calm your nerves combined with absolute terror of being near a villain to approach the table where he was.

You cleared your throat, making him lower his feet from the table upon noticing your presence. "Hi I am-"

“I know who you are, can we do this quickly?” He rolled his eyes, resting his face on his hands with his elbows on the table.

You nodded slightly and sat next to him, taking some books out of your bag and placing them on the table. “Do you know anything about Herbology?”

“Plants are boring.”

"That is a no. Very well, the first thing you have to do is learn their appearance to know how to differentiate them.”

“Maleficent said that in your leaf house there is a plant that works as a drug, is it true?” He interrupted you, smiling evilly.

You frown and purse your lips, maintaining your composure. "No, it is not. Firstly, it is a greenhouse, secondly, at school we are not allowed to consume that kind of-”

He groans in protest, rolling his eyes. "Yes yes anyway. The faster you talk, the faster I’ll get out of here.”

You sigh tiredly, beginning to read the brief description of your Herbology book, knowing well that he wasn't paying attention to you. After an hour and a half, you check your pocket watch, realizing that time is up. You don't bother telling him because as soon as you take out the watch, he stands up and leaves without saying a single word.

You don't go to your room when you leave the library, you prefer to go to your friend Bridget's room to seek solace after feeling humiliated, a feeling that grows more when you pass by the VK group, listening to how Morgie told them that it was the most boring afternoon of his life.

"I don't understand! I don't know whether to be rude or nice, nothing blends.” You protest in frustration as your friend removes the clips from your hair and combs it gently.

“It's not your fault, maybe you should be more patient. It was your first day, I bet tomorrow will be better:”

You sigh in resignation, not being as positive as her.

The following days continue to be very boring and stressful for you, because you must do your homework as a student and prefect supervision (being Merlin's child) before tutoring time with Morgie, to which you arrive tired and not in the mood to know what whether he is paying attention to you or not.

One day you wake up particularly bitter, or rather, desperate. You can't stand another day with so many responsibilities and you tend to repress your desire to cry from stress, Morgie is increasingly unbearable and you feel that the next victim of the VK jokes at any moment is going to be you.

“Le Fay, I need you to pay attention to me, these topics will be on the exam.” You ask with a pleading tone and annoying desperation.

"You need it?" He scoffs when he hears you say something different than the words in the book.

You had reached your limit. You stand up and hit the table hard with one of your hands while you look at him angrily; Your eyes turn an intense blue color beyond the iris, you extend your hand towards the library door and they are closed by your magical force.

"Enough! I can't be more patient, I've been struggling for a month with not losing my sanity.” Your voice resonates even more strongly because of your power. “I've done everything I can to get you to pay attention to me and do better in class, I'm not going to let my reputation be ruined by someone so…annoying!”

“No one asked you to help me.”

“Yes, yes they did. My father and the pressure to be perfect asked for it. I can’t believe someone like you scared me at first.” Your eyes return to their natural color but your expression is still annoying, and the magic has not been reversed. 

"Scared…?"

“Yes, you are a VK, as annoying as everyone. I thought maybe it would be easier to handle you. Ugh!”

Morgie's eyes flash as she hears the way you spoke to him, feeling hisface flush even though he wasn't going to admit it, clearing his throat and reaching out to grab the book you were previously reading to read on his own.

Maybe you had gotten something into him.

Another day you decided to agree to give him another class no matter how angry you were with him that day, you put your books in your backpack and began to walk towards the library with a firm and angry step, looking at the floor

Your head was planning possible ideas to make him focus on his class when you bumped into someone, pushing you back.

You held your head in your hands before the blow, looking up to apologize. "Ah, I'm sorry, I wasn't watching."

"Hello, and/n."

"Morgie?" You were shocked, feeling like the scary kid who first met him. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to look for you, actually." He cleared his throat, stuffing something into his pockets. "We may not study today, I want to spend the afternoon with you and... ask for your forgiveness."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, very seriously." He looked up, embarrassed. "I was an idiot."

"Okay, at least you admit it." You smiled a little. "Are you sure you don't want to study today?"

"Perhaps, we could study somewhere else:" He smiled back. Go to the Black Lagoon?"

"It's okay, I have what we need in my backpack."

Morgie dared to hug your shoulders with his arm, as if they had known each other all their lives and you hadn't yelled at him with stress a week ago, but it felt like being with him. There was a comfortable feeling in your chest as he approached you, as if your anger and fear had instantly disappeared because of his newfound interest.

[to-thelakes]

concussed

pairing; luke alvez x fem!reader

summary; after you are attacked by the latest unsub, luke does his best to take care of you while you suffer from a concussion.

warnings; hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, minor injury, vomiting, stubborn reader, reader is concussed, a bit of a enemies to lovers but not really enemies

notes; i wrote this thing last night, i wanted to write something angsty because i wasn't feeling great and so i found an angry confession prompt but then it sort of just spiralled away from the anger and we have this! i sat and did some research on concussions (and u can sleep while concussed contrary to popular belief) so this should be accurate-ish! i might do a part two but for now, here it is <3

ao3 / masterlist

The case was taking a toll on your team and you wanted to try and pretend that it was okay. But it wasn’t. You continued to hit dead-end, after dead-end. Your profile didn’t seem to be leading you to any plausible suspect and the killer was devolving into a spree. And as much as being unable to solve the case was bothering you, something else was.

Luke fucking Alvez.

Honestly, you got along with Luke amazingly, most of the time. You’d had a rocky start when he had helped the team with finding the fugitives. He preferred to work alone which infuriated you because you were used to working in a team. He was defensive, reluctant to work with you and just annoying. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was but everything he did made your jaw clench and you wanted to punch his stupidly handsomely angular jaw.

JJ noticed it almost immediately when he began to work with the team. She often did her best to keep the peace between you and that had led to Rossi dragging you into his office more than once to try and understand what was going on. Hotch did the same before he left and then Emily did but every time, you made it clear that you didn’t have any issues with him.

Because you didn’t. He just ticked you off and after him spending so much time with BAU, the irritation slowly began to seep away. But there was something about the way he was acting on this case that was irritating you again. It was tipping you over the edge and you were ready to hit him if he stepped out of line.

And it just got worse when Emily kept assigning you to do tasks together. You assumed she was trying to heal the rift that had suddenly formed between the two of you but if anything, it had just made it all worse. You were walking on eggshells around him and he was doing the same with you. There was no harmony, no talking. It was just two frustrated agents, doing a really bad job at doing their jobs.

You were beginning to think maybe that’s why you were finding it so hard to understand the case but then, Reid managed to figure something out. Which led to the team leading an assault into a warehouse where they believed the victim was being held. 

In the car, everybody had been quiet, only the necessary things were said. Garcia called and answered all of Reid’s questions about the location. The team coordinated with SWAT. And when you arrived, you got out and Prentiss ordered the team to take the different exits. Of course, you were paired up with Luke.

But you had to focus on the Unsub and getting the victim out safe. Which is why you did your best to ignore the ticking anger in your chest that was threatening to explode at any given moment. Luke took first position, opening the door and stepping in. He flicked his flashlight around, keeping his gun up before he nodded, giving you the all-clear to step in. 

The warehouse was filled to the brim with wooden crates and the entrance led to a two-way split-off. So, Luke nodded to one side, indicating you to take it. You nodded and stepped towards it. There was the distant sound of voices but there was no way of being able to locate where it was coming from. So, you headed down the crate corridor.

You were quick on your feet but thorough as you used your flashlight to check any blind spots. You were not going to get caught unawares by the UnSub.

But that is somehow exactly what happened, you had found yourself at a four-way crossroads and you were shining your flashlights down every path, checking them out, when suddenly, a pain reverberated through your skull and you dropped.

The next few seconds were a blur of bodies moving past you as you tried to reach out for your gun, hoping to get a shot at the UnSub. However, he had hit you harder than you had initially and your depth perception was off. You tried to reach for your gun but you couldn’t pick it up. You tried to drag yourself forward but all the strength had left you.

“Luke,” You called out weakly but you weren’t sure how loud you even were. Your world was tilting on its axis when you heard the sounds of gunfire and then you slipped into unconsciousness. 

When your eyes snapped back open, you had been propped up against one of the wooden crates. The warehouse must have been switched on and when you looked around, Luke was standing a few steps away talking with Matt, his back to you.

Your eyebrows furrowed and Matt noticed you were awake. He must have told Luke because suddenly his head had snapped to you and he looked pissed. You had never seen Luke actually angry but this was it and you were a little scared.

Your ears were still ringing, the world still a little hazy so you didn’t hear what Luke said but then Matt was gone. You used the crates to slowly push yourself to your feet and Luke rushed to your side, holding your shoulders to keep you stable.

“What happened?” He asked, keeping his anger carefully controlled beneath the surface. 

“Unsub got me. Didn’t see him coming,” You explained, leaning back against the wooden crate. Luke stepped back, confident that you wouldn’t immediately keel over again even though your eyes were unfocused, “It wasn’t like I did it on purpose,” You added, clearly being able to see the anger that was rippling at the surface.

“If you did, this would be a different conversation,” He snapped, not amused by your comment. You sighed, letting your eyes fall closed as you pressed the heel of your hand against your forehead. Your head was throbbing and you were finding it hard to think straight.

“I’m not that fucking stupid,” You snapped back at him, forcing your eyes open so that could look at him. He huffed out in annoyance, hand moving to rub at his jaw before he looked back at you.

“I know.” His voice had softened a little. Your hand returned to your head, feeling the emotional whiplash from this conversation, “You’re impossible. You should have been more careful.” His voice had morphed from anger to relative calm as he looked at you. You muttered something in response before pushing yourself off the edge of the wooden crate.

“I’m fine, It’s not like I’m dead. So, it’s fine,” You brushed off his concern as you attempted to take a step forward. But you were completely off-balance and the movement had your world tilting off axis. Luke was quick to grab your arms, stabilizing you against him.

“No,” He responded as he helped you get back to your feet, “You have a concussion so you’re gonna stay here until the medic gets here and clears you. Is that clear?” You let your eyes fall closed again, stepping back to lean against the crate.

“Yeah, whatever,” You muttered. Once Luke was sure you weren’t gonna move again, he let go of you. He turned on his heel, pacing up and down the corridor of crates. You hadn’t seen him so stressed before. It was like he couldn’t stay still and he kept looking back at you, face set into a frown. It wasn’t helping how you felt.

“Was I bleeding?” You asked after a moment. Luke looked up and the short nod of your head made you sigh. You honestly couldn’t feel the pain but you assumed that the blood had already matted your hair. Maybe the cut on your head was the reason that your head throbbed as hard as it did. Then you felt it, bile racing up your throat. In seconds, you had turned around, hand pressed against the wooden crate, “Luke, I’m-” but you didn’t get to finish your sentence before you threw up in the space between your feet and the crate.

It burned your throat as you coughed and sputtered, tears beginning to stream down your face as your fingers curled against the wooden crate. By the time that you had done puking up, your stomach was empty and tears were running down your face. Your whole body felt weak and Luke was keeping your ponytail from falling into the line of fire.

His hand was against your back, running soothing circles as you gagged a few more times before coughing. It seemed that your body was done but your head hurt even more now. The headache had gotten worse, the violent push of vomit up your throat had just made everything a million times worse. Luke gently took hold of your shoulders, pulling you back from the mess of vomit before he turned you around. He was careful, keeping your movements slow as he pulled a cloth from his pocket. He was gentle as he wiped the corners of your mouth for you and you looked up at him, tears blurring your vision. He placed the cloth on a nearby crate before he pulled you into his chest. 

The tears were burning your cheeks but his arms engulfing you brought some much-needed comfort.

“Sorry, that was, that was disgusting,” You said against his chest. You were sniffling, silent tears falling down your cheeks as your head began to pound even more.

“Medic’s here,” Matt said, startling both of you. His gaze flicked from the two of you to the pile of vomit on the floor and he quickly understood what was happening. The medic then approached the two of you and you cautiously stepped out of Luke’s hold. The medic walked you to a nearby crate and made you sit down.

She then asked what date it was, what year you were in, who was president and it made you realize that you were a little foggy on the details. Everything about your personal life was intact but the second you got out further than that, it all became a little muddy. You were able to tell her everything. You told her what year it was and what president was in office but it took you longer than you would have liked to admit.

Then she made you follow her finger but you were finding it hard. It made your eyes hurt and your head ache and then she shined the flashlight in your eyes. The dilation levels of your pupils didn’t change at all.

“You’ve got a concussion,” The medic stated and you nodded, “Do you live with anyone at home?” She asked. You shook your head.

“It’s just me,” You muttered. She sighed.

“Okay, if that’s the case, it might be best if I get you checked into the hospital. You’ll likely be fine but you need someone to be supervising you at all times in case your symptoms get worse,” She explained.

“I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself,” You tried to argue but the medic didn’t seem satisfied. She glanced at Luke and Matt who had silently watched the interaction, not sure what to make of your current state. Then she looked back at you and your head rested against the crate, eyes closed.

“Can I see your head wound?” The medic asked. Your eyes slowly reopened before you shuffled forward so she could take a look at it. You felt her push your hair around, pressing against your skull which made you seethe in pain a little. But it didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as you had expected it to, “Well, that’s good news. Your head doesn’t need stitches but I really would recommend that you stay overnight at the hospital.”

“I’ll be fine, I swear. I’ll just take it easy,” You insisted. The medic sighed and then she stepped back.

“Agents, would I be able to speak to one of you privately?” The medic asked. Luke and Matt exchanged a look before Luke gestured for the medic to follow him. Matt then walked over to you and sat down on the crate beside you.

“I think you should listen to the medic,” Matt said. You rolled your eyes before letting your eyes close again.

“I can take care of myself,” You repeated. 

“I’m sure you can but you’ve got a concussion and that means your brain isn’t functioning the same,” He stated blankly. You scoffed and huffed out. You didn’t even have the energy to open your eyes anymore. You were exhausted and you felt like you could have curled up on that crate and fallen asleep at a moment’s notice. But you didn’t, “Listen, buddy, I do not doubt that you can take care of yourself but we just want you to be safe.” Matt was approaching you like he did with his kids when they were being unreasonable. It seemed to work well on them but he wasn’t so sure about what it would mean for you.

“I’m always safe. I just wanna get home and get a glass of water, all I can taste is vomit,” You admitted. Matt nodded and he glanced over your shoulder to see Luke return from his conversation with the medic. He gestured for Matt to tell you to head out and so Matt was left with the task to coax you to your feet.

He kept a hold of you as you walked out of the warehouse and when you stepped out, the lights were still flashing red and blue. It made your head hurt and you flinched away from it. The rest of the team was talking with the PD, discussing what the best course of action was when they spotted you.

JJ and Emily were at your side in seconds and JJ took you off of Matt’s hands.

“How you feeling?” JJ asked softly. You shrugged.

“Fabulous.” The sarcasm laced your tone and they both knew it but it at least meant that you were still somewhat feeling yourself.

“Are you okay to go home?” Emily asked. You shrugged again.

“Medic told me that she would advise I go to the hospital if I don’t have anyone to look over me for the next day but I’ll be fine,” You insisted. Emily’s eyebrows furrowed and she glanced at JJ, who seemed just as concerned. Emily tried to argue back but like you had been earlier, you were set in your way. You refused to go to the hospital and when Luke came over, hearing your bickering, he only made it worse.

He explained that you had thrown up and that you were refusing to listen to anyone which only made Emily even more concerned. And somehow, in the midst of the conversation, people began to discuss whether any of them could stay with you to ensure that you were okay. You honestly began to tune the conversation out, resting against JJ’s shoulder.

Your eyes reopened again after a moment and you were looking at Luke. His arms were crossed over his chest, face set into a frown and you knew that he was mad at you. He had looked so angry and you had thrown up right in front of him. You mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ to him and he sighed.

“If you both have plans, I can watch over her. Roxy can stay with the sitter for another day,” Luke interjected. You let your eyes fall closed again. It was the first part of the conversation that you had heard and you didn’t really understand it. Emily and JJ exchanged a look before they looked back down at you.

“Are you sure?” JJ asked. Luke nodded.

“Listen, I don’t have any plans. It’ll be easier,” He said simply. You opened your eyes again to look at Emily who seemed a little worried by the proposition.

So, you decided to speak up, “He can just sleep on my couch and then, if I get attacked again, I’ve got a scary man to take them down for me.” There was an amused lilt to your tone and you met Luke’s gaze. He looked honestly a little baffled by you but he didn’t say anything against it.

“I don’t mind,” He added. You smiled and nodded, lifting your head from JJ’s shoulder. She kept a hold of you.

“Okay,” Emily agreed.

“But if something happens, you call me, okay?” JJ made Luke promise. He was quick to agree and then the four of you trudged to the rest of the team. You were quick to wrap up with the local PD and you got on the jet to head home. At some point, you fell asleep on the flight but you honestly weren’t sure when.

But when you woke up, you still felt atrocious. Your head ached with every blink of your eye and your memory was still a little fuzzy. However, you did remember that Luke was coming home with you. 

So, when he ushered you into his car, you didn’t bother to try and fight against it. You were surprised that he had even suggested that he could take care of you considering how snappy you’d been with each other but you didn’t have the brain power to question it.

Instead, you just directed him to your apartment, got him to park in your usual spot and he helped you get inside. You could at least walk on your own now but your head was killing you. The nap on the jet had done you good but you honestly didn’t feel much better. You need painkillers before you even went anywhere near your bed. And realistically, you needed a shower. You needed to get the blood out of your hair but you also didn’t have the energy to do anything.

Luke could tell that you were feeling overwhelmed and so, he just led you straight to where (he assumed) the bedroom was. He told you to get changed into pajamas but you were quick to start bitching about the blood in your hair. So, - with reluctance and under the condition that you kept the bathroom door unlocked so he could help you if something happened - he let you get a shower. 

The water relaxed your muscles and you felt cleaner without blood clumping your hair up and so when you got out, you slipped into pajamas and trudged into the living room. He had already gotten painkillers and a glass of water out ready for you and he was sat on the sofa. He seemed to constantly be on high alert.

“Thank you,” You said before you downed the pills with the water. He was quick to stand up, checking over you and you looked a lot better, “I have some spare pillows and a cover in my bedroom. So, you can at least sleep comfortably on the sofa. Can you get the ice pack out of my freezer while I do it?” You asked. He nodded and was quick to cross over to the kitchen while you went into your bedroom.

You pulled the spare sheets from the top of your wardrobe and began to put the covers over the pillows and duvet. However, the movements were making you dizzy. You were over-exerting yourself and you had to steady yourself on the edge of your bed. That was not good but you finished the job and returned to Luke.

You dropped the duvet and pillow on the sofa before you walked over to the kitchen. Luke was wrapping the ice pack in a towel just as you came up beside him. He offered it out once he was done and you placed it against where the pain was pulsating from.

“Will you be okay on the sofa?” You asked after a moment. He nodded and you sent him a smile, “Thank you for helping me. I haven’t really given you a reason to but I appreciate it,” You explained. It was probably the most vulnerable you had been with Luke in a while and he seemed to recognise that.

“Thank you for trusting me to be here,” He said. You shrugged, adjusting the hold on the ice pack to keep it more stable, “I was worried about you. I found you in a patch of blood and I thought I had lost you. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” You weren’t sure if it was the concussion or reality but there was something akin to love in the way he spoke about you. You looked at him for a moment before you let your shoulders drop.

“I should have been more careful,” You responded. He shook his head.

“You had no way of knowing he had been there.” Luke was quick to shut you down. Everything he had said was out of frustration and worry for you but he didn’t know how to explain that. He just couldn’t have you beating yourself up over it.

“I would have if I’d just been paying attention. Instead, I was thinking about you and how angry I was at you. It would have been different if my head had been in it. But it wasn’t. We were both distracted by each other,” You said. Your voice had softened and you felt like there was a weight off your shoulders now that you had admitted that to him.

“Yeah,” He said and the silence spread between the two of you for a moment before he cleared his throat. He then suggested that you both head to bed and you thought it was probably best to call it a night. You said that Luke could change in the bathroom, and get a shower if he wanted to before you headed into your bedroom.

You curled up under the covers, thoughts of Luke lingering in your mind.

-

Your eyes snapped open, sweat dripping down your back as you looked around your dark bedroom. You were half-pushed up on the bed, the paranoia from your dream lingering. You could remember someone coming at you, something had come to find you but then it went completely blank. But you were safe. Nobody was trying to get you in here and so, you settled back down on the bed. It was uncommon for you to get nightmares after particularly difficult cases but it had been a while and you felt a little shaken.

Your head wasn’t hurting as much as it had a few hours ago but you didn’t feel any better than you had earlier in the day. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you kicked the covers back. You let your eyes fall closed when you heard the bedroom door open. You tilted your head to the side and Luke popped his head in.

He was surprised to see you staring back at him and he smiled, a little awkwardly.

“Please tell me you remember your name,” He said. You chuckled softly at his words before nodding your head. You repeated your name back to him and he nodded.

“Have you been checking on me since I fell asleep?” You asked. He nodded his head and you sighed, pushing yourself to sit up.

“The medic told me to check on you every hour or so,” He explained. He then stepped into the room a little bit and you rubbed your eyes with your hands. You were exhausted, you could feel it in every bone of your body. And if Luke hadn’t fallen asleep yet, you couldn’t imagine he felt much better. You wrapped your arm around yourself.

“Please tell me you fell asleep,” You muttered. He shook his head and you sighed. Your head fell forward slightly and you seemed to remember that you had gone to sleep with an icepack. Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked around. It seemed that you had dropped it but you weren’t entirely sure where.

“You looking for the pack?” He asked and you nodded. The pain was beginning to bloom in your temple again, “It’s back in the freezer.” That was a relief. You settled back on the bed but your body was still rigid, “What woke you?” He asked. Your head fell back against the headboard and you let out a hiss of pain.

“Had a weird dream,” You explained. He let out a soft ‘ah’ and you nodded, “Guess a head injury does weird things to your brain,” You muttered. He nodded. He was still leaning against the door frame and you just wanted him to get into the bed, if you were honest with yourself.

“You should try and get some sleep,” He said and you shrugged. You didn’t even want to think about trying to go back to sleep. You just wanted to stay up and talk to him for a little while. You knew that it would make you feel better but he also needed to sleep.

“You need it more than me,” You retorted. He shrugged and you sighed, “If you need to keep an eye on me, just lay in bed with me. It’ll be easier and you might be able to get some sleep.” You were blunt, exhaustion stabbing behind your eyes and your body was aching. You were so sick of the pretense.

“The couch is fine,” He quickly attempted to rebuke but you slipped off the edge of the bed and trudged over to him. 

“Drop the gentleman shit. Just lie in bed with me,” You said, grabbing his wrist and gently tugging him towards it. He sighed but gave in and the two of you slipped under the covers. You lay on your side, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on the injured side of your head. Luke lay across from you, facing you. Your eyes fell closed, “What did he hit me with?” You asked after a moment of silence. Everything was a bit of a blur and you could only really remember the shadowy figure of the Unsub walking away.

“Baseball bat. Aluminum.” Your jaw dropped at his words and he nodded his head, “I took him down and he had it on him. I thought the blood was the vic’s but then I found you,” He explained. You could only imagine how Luke had felt at that moment. It was a baseball bat. And the Unsub had hit you pretty fucking hard. You weren’t sure how you were alive but you were glad that you were even if your head hurt.

“I tried to shoot him but I couldn’t reach my gun,” You admitted. He adjusted his position so he was a little closer to you.

“I got him. The vic is fine. We did our job,” He attempted to soothe you. You nodded but it didn’t make you feel all that much better. In fact, you just felt worse. You should have got him but it was fine. You closed your eyes, hoping that you could just fall asleep. But you couldn’t. You sighed and looked up at Luke.

“Can you hold me?” You asked after a beat. His eyebrows furrowed but he simply nodded, shuffling closer to you. He then pulled you against him and you buried your face against his chest. Your eyes fell closed and he slowly began to run his hands soothing along your back.

“We can talk in the morning, get some sleep,” He whispered softly. You nodded and you felt the tension release from your shoulders before you slipped into sleep.

<3

[steddieas-shegoes]

“Hey, Wayne said you refused to talk to the therapist.”

It was day 34 of visiting Eddie in the hospital, and there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel. If Eddie would talk to the therapist, he could be released into Wayne’s care.

The therapist spent two hours with him, and apparently got nothing more than some sighs and eye rolls.

“I didn’t like him.”

“Well, we can get you another one.”

“I don’t like them either.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“You haven’t even met them yet.”

“I just know I won’t,” Eddie said as he crossed his arms, hissing when he rubbed against the bandages still covering most of his torso.

“Do you want to stay in the hospital forever?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t you just talk to the therapist? You don’t have to tell them everything, just how you’re feeling now.”

“I don’t want to.”

Steve was trying not to get frustrated. He promised Wayne he’d try to talk some sense into him patiently. It was proving to be harder than he thought it would be.

“What is it that you don’t want to tell them?”

“That maybe I did kill Chrissy! That maybe if she had just gone home or I told her no that she’d still be alive! Maybe Vecna would have gone to the next victim and I wouldn’t have to be here in pain!” Eddie was breathing heavily, his heart monitor beeping more rapidly the more he spoke.

Steve didn’t visibly react, though he wanted to. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold Eddie, turn back time and pretend that it was possible that Chrissy wouldn’t have died, let Eddie live his life not knowing these horrors existed.

He wanted to be able to scrub the memory of carrying Eddie’s limp and bloody body from his mind so he could go back to his regular nightmares of him dying, not the man he-

“Sorry.”

Steve’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt when Eddie spoke his apology so softly into the room. It was a direct contrast to how he’d been before, and it was startling.

A thought occurred to Steve, one he hadn’t thought of in at least two years, but felt right now.

“You know, I used to be kind of friends with Chrissy. Not close, but we talked.”

Eddie stared at him curiously, probably wondering where this could be going.

“It was funny. It didn’t happen until I wasn’t popular anymore. I guess that just shows she was a great person.”

“Yeah. She was.”

“I remember I was sitting alone eating lunch. Jason and his crew weren’t there and she walked up to me and said ‘let’s be lonely together for today.’ And I guess that was our thing, being lonely together. It sounds stupid.”

“Doesn’t sound stupid to me.”

Steve looked up and saw Eddie’s wide, wet eyes staring back at him, silently begging him to continue his story. Maybe he needed this.

“It happened a few more times and then we ended up hanging out a few times before graduation. We actually,” Steve paused and bit his lip. This would give a lot away and may end up making things worse for Eddie, but he wanted to believe it would help. “We bonded over our crush on you.”

He let it sit in the air for a moment, eyes refusing to look back up at Eddie.

Until he felt a hand on his.

“You both had a crush on me? Me?!”

“Don’t tell Robin, but she was the first person I came out to. Accidentally. And it wasn’t really coming out so much as admitting I thought you were cute.”

“You thought I was cute?!”

“Well, yeah! Always playing with your hair and doodling during class. Helping the freshman find their classes. Giving those speeches. You were brave.”

“Steve. That’s not bravery.”

“It is when everyone is willing to hurt you because of who you are.”

“I barely ever actually got beat up. Words are just words.”

“We both know that isn’t true.”

Eddie nodded, swallowed, then sighed.

“Yeah. I just didn’t want anyone to feel like me.”

“That’s why we had a crush on you!”

“Well, that’s nice that you bonded over that.”

Steve didn’t like the sudden change in his tone. Like he’d liked hearing the story, but now he realized it didn’t matter.

And maybe it didn’t.

Chrissy was still gone. Eddie still had to watch her die a terrible death.

They were both still traumatized.

But Steve still had a crush on Eddie that wouldn’t go away no matter how much he repressed it.

And maybe that part of the story was something that could change for the better.

“Robin told me I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, she tells all of us that often.”

“But this is about something specific.”

“What is it?”

“Well, I never got over my crush on you. And instead of saying something about it, I just thought I’d forget about it eventually.”

Eddie blinked at him.

“Chrissy once dared me to ask you out. She said when you graduate, I should do it. Just take the risk.

She was pretty sure you were into both anyways.”

“She was right.”

“Yeah, she usually was,” Steve nodded. “But the problem here is you haven’t technically graduated yet.”

“No I haven’t.”

“You could, though.”

“Maybe.”

“But you have to get out of here first.”

“I see what you’re doing, Harrington.”

“What’s that?” Steve smirked and reached out to move Eddie’s hair away from his face.

“Bribing me to graduate with promises of a date.”

“Is it working?”

Eddie sighed. “Unfortunately.”

“Good. So you’ll talk to the therapist tomorrow?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“You always have a choice, I’m just hoping you choose you.” ——————————— When Eddie walked across the stage two months later to get his diploma, Steve was giving him a standing ovation.

He ignored his original plan of flipping off Principal Higgins, he didn’t want more eyes on him than he already had.

He ignored it because now he had a new plan. He was gonna walk off the stage, throw his cap in the air, and then kiss Steve Harrington.

Part 2: Prologue