#sure hope nothing traumatic happens so I can enjoy it

[timaeusterrored]

Together 💕

[woodlandwrites]

i. mind over matter

aphrodite!reader x luke castellan

pre-tlt, characters 18+, mdni, def going to be a pt.2

warnings: cursing, whole lotta impertinence!

2.7k read - unedited

You have been plagued by flocks of doves and Luke Castellan. So Aphrodite decides to meddle a little a lot in your love life. Who needs memories anyway? Unfortunately, the only person you find comfort in - is the very person you hate.

A/N: first fic in a loooong time - stick with me here. there will be more parts and maybeee some spice? anyways hope you enjoy!

You’d like to think that Aphrodite loved the game of making you miserable. In retrospect, you hated your mother. She was a hard act to follow. 

Don’t jump to conclusions - you loved your cabin. Your brothers and sisters were wonderful - not vain like most campers would say. No, that was not an issue. The problem started with one slender, curly haired, crooked smile boy - Luke Castellan. He was the golden boy of Camp Half-Blood and the bane of your existence. 

Luke was an astonishingly aggravating self-centered egotistical bigot. 

“Why do you hate him so much,” Silena asked one day out of the blue. You both sat in the stands watching Luke teach his swordsmanship class. You pondered her question for a while.

“Because. He confuses me - and aggravates me constantly. I have never met anyone so full of themselves in my entire life. He is Narcissus reborn again. It also does not help that he is a complete jerk,” you nodded as you ate another fresh strawberry. Silena pondered on your words.

“Are you sure this has nothing to do with mom and the whole..argument,” she said in a cautionary tone.

Silena was the only one who knew about you and Aphrodite’s - complicated past. To be fair - she didn’t know the entire truth. The prophecy, the impertinence, all the bullshit. However, she did know that your shoulders seemed to tense every time Aphrodite’s name was mentioned. 

“I mean every time I have talked to him at camp counselor meetings he seems like an alright guy.

Silena - forever the optimist. Sometimes when you looked at her through the corner of your eye she resembled your mother. She had this soft tone and locks of hair that seemed to always catch the wind just right. Yeah, no wonder Luke was nice to her. Selina was extremely beautiful - Beckendorf struck gold. 

“Yeah, I can see right through the façade-” you were cut off by a dove landing next to you. He started pecking at your strawberries mindlessly. Silena stifled a small giggle. 

“It is funny when it isn’t happening to you. The bastards have been following me around for days,” you said annoyed.

You tried scaring the bird away - only for more to return. After a couple minutes an estimated 20 doves flocked around you mimicking every move. 

“Go away!” you screamed - only for the feathered friends to cock their heads in curiosity. By now, the entire arena seemed to convert their attention to you. 

“Hey! I heard if they shit on your head it’ll bring good luck,” Luke echoed watching amused.

He leaned against his sword in a cocky manner. What an asshole - you hated when he did that. The other campers seemed to laugh along. 

“Up yours, Castellan,” you yelled with a face the color of cherries. 

The doves had now increased their army to a solid 50 - all looking to you for a further instruction. Doves had followed you around your entire life - a gift your mother had bestowed to you. The unfortunate part was that they were pretty much the most non obedient monsters on the entire planet. You never had truly understood why they would appear - most of the time it was a random occurrence. Of course - Luke was always there to revel in your misfortune. You still had not forgotten when the doves caused a complete riot last month at dinner - leaving quite a mess for you to clean up. The younger campers were still traumatized. 

That was the thing about doves - they were just like your mother. At first they are nice to look at, almost sweet. That is until they turn into vicious assailants from Tartarus (Silena says you overreact). They also annoy you - another common attribute with your mother. 

“For Gods sake just leave!,” you yelled again, stomping off, bidding Silena goodbye.

You did not want to continue being entertainment for the rest of the campers. The doves seemed to take the hint - maintaining their place in the stands. You were sure there were some week old snacks stuffed between the seats the rotted things could ravish on. Luke chuckled before turning his attention back to his students. 

The sun was setting and soon it would be dinner - but you still sat in bed thinking about what Silena had mentioned early about your mom. Maybe it was your nerves - but you knew a visit soon would be unavoidable. The doves only confirmed your suspicion. It was rare for gods to visit Camp Half-Blood, at least publically. The closest thing the camp had to godliness was Mr. D - what a joke. However, you knew your mother and her constant desire to meddle with your life. 

Dinner went without a hunch - except for the Stoll twins starting a food fight at the Hermes table. You loved quiet nights like these where the summer breeze feels like a warm hug. Silena nudged you - reading her expression you knew she was inquiring about the events from earlier. A shrug sufficed. You were so caught up in laughing with your siblings you failed to notice the yelling from the other side of the pavilion. 

“One of the Ares girls was flirting with Luke after you left today - Charlie and I could not help but laugh. It was so awkward,” Silena mentioned.

 There were a couple of murmured sounds and gawking from your siblings - which was the usual. If there was one thing they loved it was - well - love. However this subject rubbed you the wrong way - maybe it was just Luke’s name being mentioned.

It felt like a suffocating gut punch and it was most likely your mothers doing. If there was anything she loved more it was demigod love - the trials and tribulations - and of course the unfortunate ends. It quite literally made you sick. But why did Luke have to be roped in it and moreover - why did you care? You smiled and nodded - trying to pay attention and not let the thoughts take over. 

“Get these goddamn things off of me!,” a familiar voice yelled in annoyance.

So wrapped up in thought - you failed to care - assuming it was a practical Hephaestus joke with an Ares kid. Selina quickly nudged you pointing towards the Hermes table - for quite an interesting scene. Luke being attacked by a merciless army of doves. 

“Hey Castellan, let them shit on your head - heard it was good luck!,” the words reflected from just a few hours prior.

You couldn’t help but giggle - it was nice not being the receiver of dove aggravated assault (as Beckendorf had termed it). It was also nice not to be the joke for once - everyone laughing at someone else for a change was different. 

“Call the damn things off,” he struggled - yelling your name in the process.

“Why do you automatically assume I am the one who set them off? They just do what they want!” you retorted.

 Silena looked at you - questioning your motives. He struggled even more as the doves thrashed him around - seemling gaining confidence in their blows. They seemed - deadly - more than before. Silena muttered your name.

“You have to try,” Silena persuaded. Reluctantly you obeyed - knowing she was being more serious than she was putting on. 

“Stop!” you yelled sternly to the winged creatures.

Like usual - they did not obey. Unfortunately, they keep going - tearing Luke’s shirt in the process. He held himself quite well against dove assassins  - a fact you did not want to admit to yourself. 

“παύω!” You spoke - pleading that it would end.

It was all your mothers fault. She wanted you to be miserable. She wanted to ruin your night, humiliate you - and to hurt Luke. You weren’t sure why that last part bothered you so much.

 “Φεύγω!” you screamed once more in an earthshaking tone.

The doves dissipated automatically. Like literally - poof - into dust. Again - the entire camp had its eyes on you - what else was new?

“What is wrong with you,” Luke questioned - still astonished at the sheer power of your voice - that very voice that made doves disintegrate. You slowly looked up at his disheveled appearance - he looked worse.

Beautiful. 

You wish that voice in your head would go suck a dick!

“Shows over, enjoy your dessert,” you said bitterly to the crowd taking a bow.

Silena yelled your name but you had already darted towards the woods. You could hear the muttering of the crowd questioning the evening entertainment. You could not seem to care. 

You took a seat in the sand on the beach overlooking the shore. The moonlight seemed to make the water sparkle like diamonds. You felt almost calm here - no one to distract you from your thoughts. Why did his words strike you like a knife? He might as well plant backbiter into your back, it would hurt less. It all led to the proper question - why? Why would the doves attack him anyway? They had never done anything quite so ruthless before - nevertheless to another sole person. 

Then again - it was always about Luke - ever since you got to the infernal camp. He was probably celebrated for his brave victory in the battle of the doves - hoisted up by other campers. You suppose a feast in his honor was in order. 

“You think such unhappy thoughts,” an angelic voice sang from the sea. 

Your attention turned towards a bundle of sea foam. The foam began to sparkle and mangle to take the shape of a woman the closer it got to shore. Soon after your mother - Aphrodite stood before you - in all her glory.

“I thought seafoam was just whale jizz,” you spoke casually. You chucked at yourself that was a good one!

Of - fucking - course. Your mother was behind the entire dove fiasco - you called it. You should start placing bets at this point. 

“Most would be labeled impertinent with that attitude - especially with a God.” 

“I am impertinent.” You shrugged, pulling your knees to your chest. Maybe if you really ignored her she would disappear. 

“I will not disappear yet - we have much to discuss.” 

“Get out of my head.” 

“I heard what occurred tonight at dinner. Shame, doves are very gentle creatures.”

A dove magically appeared in her hands, letting out a soft coo. You cringed. If you saw another dove tonight - you might just roast it and eat it. 

“So that was you?” You asked venomously.

“Well thanks mom! Now the entire camp thinks I tried to kill the golden boy with a league of killer doves. They all think I am absolutely crazy.”

“I did nothing, my child.” You gawked at her - she paused to collect her thoughts.

“However, you might want to look within yourself before you spit accusations that are not true. I merely gave you a gift - how you use it is at your own expense.” She finished. 

“But I don’t control those horrid things - they just show up and do whatever. Why would I even attack Luke with a bunch of wimpy doves?”

That was your mother, having the audacity to say you caused the incident. That it was all your fault. 

“Love, perhaps?” Her eyes seemed to glitter at the thought. 

“No.” Ugh, not this again, you thought.

“Doves are a mere - personification of one’s inner love. That is why I gave you the gift - so your innermost feelings can never be bottled. That does horrid things to one’s complexion.” 

“Well thanks for the shitty gift, mother. Next time maybe a pair of socks will do the trick.” 

“Why do you insist on denying who you are? Denying what you are destined to become? Denying yourself the love of the century?”

“Why love someone if they eventually will die.” It was true. Your father had died when you were young - leaving you an orphan. Your demigod friends you made throughout the years died horrible unspeakable deaths.

“Isn’t that all the more fun?” 

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you? You just love to see me suffer?”

“You’re being rash.” She fired back.

“Rash? Where have you been?” You scoffed at your godly mother.

“Child, I do not write destiny - I only enforce it. I know you more than you would like to admit, sweet dove. And you - are in love with the child of Hermes.”

 Apollo could’ve shot you through the chest - it would have felt better. 

“Mother, you have it mixed up - I do not have any feelings for Luke. You’re just making things up because you are bored and need some excitement. Please go back to Olympus and meddle with someone else’s life,” you stated. You staggered to your feet dusting the sand off. 

Before you could walk away a bolt of pure energy hit you in your spine. You flew to your feet hitting the ground with a hard thud. In a blur your mother was standing proud above your feet - surrounded in a pink aura. 

“Luke Castellan, he will keep you safe - and you will keep him steady.” 

You might have thought to curse at her - but you couldn’t speak - let alone move. She had disappeared from vision leaving only a dove in her wake. The pain - was excruciating - like being electrocuted a million times. Your ears rang terrible tunes as you tried to level yourself - only to fall back down. The world was spinning at an unmeasurable pace. You could hear shrill screaming - or was it yours? You weren’t even sure who you were? Only images of dark curls, broad shoulders, and crooked smiles flashed through your vision. 

A quake of footsteps running towards the shore were felt as you thrashed in the sand. Voices - yelling a name - whose name? You couldn’t recall. All you knew was darkness. 

“Y/N?!” a feminine voice called. You could feel her hands shake your shoulder violently - it felt like knives.

You heard screams - this time knowing it was your shrill cry. You pushed her away with force. You backed away, crawling backwards in desperation. 

Once your vision returned you focused to see a swarm of kids all in orange shirts - staring at you in shock. The girl who touched you - you could only assume was kneeling in the sand in front of you. She seemed to be pleading.

“Stay away, please,” you pleaded with tears streaming from your eyes. You weren’t sure what had happened but you knew you had never felt pain so deeply. 

“Y/N, please you were screaming. We only want to make sure you are okay. We can go to the infirmary and figure it out,” the girl reached out only for you to retreat more. You hyperventilate on your own words. 

“What’s going on?” another voice asked with urgency from beyond the crowd.

Every child seemed to turn their attention to focus on the male figure. Pushing his way through the crowd - he became shocked at the scene before him.

However, you felt as if all the oxygen had left your body - leaving you limp. You felt as if a hand had grabbed your heart and ripped it in two. He was the one - the one you had seen in your visions. 

“Y/N?” he questioned - half concerned, half annoyed. His chocolate eyes seemed to lock ever so easily with yours. He was indeed the most beautiful man you had ever seen - like a carving of marble. Your soul ached. Without a thought - on instinct alone - you ran. He was engulfed in a desperate hug - his shoulder muffled your pitiful cries. 

“Please, you’re the only one who can help.” You could feel the eyes on the two of you - the gasps were hard to ignore. He went stiff in his posture - not sure how to react. Silence fell over the entire shore, only the crashing of waves in the background. 

“Y/N what is going on? Is this some sort of prank?” he asked in disbelief. 

He had never seen you like this - so scared. Some small part of him wanted to scoop you up, hold you tight, and tell you everything would be okay. He wanted to tell you how he would fix all your problems - just so he would never see you cry again. Although these feelings were so suppressed he restrained.

Gods you were beautiful. 

“I- I don’t know who Y/N is. I don’t know anyone. I don’t know me.” 

[whumpetywhumpwhump]

Okay so something which I don't think I've ever directly disclosed here before is that my favourite whump ever is intubation whump. I've literally always liked it and I don't know why.

When whumpee's going in for surgery, caretaker- maybe a medic- stands right next to them, holding their hand as the propofol starts to kick in. whumpee goes from being able to speak clearly and coherently to slurring their words, eyelids growing heavier and heavier, until at last they're completely out. limp. as the paralytics kick in too, there are a few seconds where whumpee isn't breathing at all, until the anaesthetist places the tube and watches for the condensation within it.

caretaker can't help feeling a little unnerved. whumpee's usually so talkative, yet now they're so still they may as well be dead, only breathing because a machine is breathing for them.

whumpees in comas, too. they're so sick that it's necessary to keep them on life support, allowing the rest of their body time to recover, but caretaker has to sit by their bedside and hold Whumpee's limp hand, watching closed eyes that they know won't open anytime soon. every so often, a doctor comes in to shine a light into their eyes or ask them to squeeze a hand, but there's nothing except the hiss of the ventilator to let caretaker know that whumpee's even still there in some way. caretaker hopes at least that whumpee is somewhat comfortable, too sedated to feel the discomfort of a tube down their throat or the sticky pads of the tube holder on their cheeks.

or how about whumpees who have been involved in a traumatic accident/have been hurt so badly/are so sick that the paramedics on the scene have to tube them? it's no longer the safe, sterile environment of the hospital, and the paramedics have to lay out all their equipment on sheets beside them, running through a checklist to make sure everything's ready before they start. plus, they no longer have the luxury of time to make sure all the proper medications have been given- the priority is securing whumpee's airway.

that means lots of medications, fast, pushed through IVs while another paramedic preps the tube. while this is happening, whumpee could be deteriorating even more. they might vomit. they might try to get up or hit the paramedics, the injury to their brain meaning they're in distress, not understanding what's going on. all the paramedics can do is clean whumpee up as best as possible, hold whumpee down gently until the paralytic and sedatives kick in, then, when all is quiet, intubate.

this, by the way, isn't your regular old intubation. it's called RSI, which stands for 'rapid sequence induction' and it's done for the most critically ill patients.

maybe do it to one of your whumpees? or just intubate them in general. please. it's very fun to read.

(Partially inspired by @i-eat-worlds post, since you are not alone in enjoying this I promise lmao.)

[j2hoes]

Hopes And Fears Part Three. (Wally Clark x Reader)

Summary: Y/N’s death is traumatic. So traumatic in fact, she can’t even look at Wally without reliving what happened to her.

Word Count: 2.4k

Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!

Warnings: Mature Language

I’ve grown fond of the early mornings whilst stuck at Split River. The first glimpse of the sun shining over the gardens, a warm hue welcoming the day. With no students roaming the halls, all I hear is the quiet sounds of nature. On the odd occasion, I’m even able to spot a rabbit or deer, grazing gently on the acres of freshly trimmed fields surrounding the school buildings.

It’s become a habit of mine, each morning I find myself lounging besides the flowerbeds. Allowing myself to feel each blade of grass that delicately brushes my skin. For a while, I forget that I’m no longer alive. I can simply exist.

It’s not uncommon for Wally to join me. Sprawled on his back, gazing up at the clouds. Pointing out different shapes and imagining different backstories for all of the cloud animals he sees. Besides that, neither of us speak much. Only enjoying one another’s company as we relax in the morning light.

Spending this time has given me the opportunity to process everything. Wally helps me to work through my emotions and thoughts. Nothing ever being too much for him to listen to, though I’m still afraid to divulge everything. I’m sure he can sense that I’m holding back, yet he doesn’t pry. Content to just listen. In all honestly, I truly believe that these moments with Wally have helped me more so than Mr Martin’s support group has. Despite attending every session since my memorial, I consistently leave the group feeling unfulfilled. Unsatisfied. In fact, it doesn’t seem as though the teacher wants us to discuss the past, our lives and our deaths. Only wanting us to focus on the present, the state we are confined to. I find myself struggling with this a lot.

“What do you think you would be doing if you hadn’t died?”

Pushing myself up on my elbows, I look over to Wally, who is resting on his stomach, absentmindedly plucking grass from the ground.

“I was supposed to go to college, play football. Hopefully make it pro, that’s what the plan was anyway.” He tells me, full of confidence yet his tone of voice suggests that’s not the pathway he would’ve chosen for himself.

“What about like outside of a job though?” I pry, the boy has my curiosity heightened. “Like, surely you have other things that you wanted to do?”

His eyes focus in on the pieces of grass that he’s now twisting together in a makeshift sort of chain. Deep in thought, I can see the cogs working in his brain as he tries to think of an answer for me. I’m sure it’s not something he’s necessarily thought of before, following the path that his mom set out for him upon birth.

“You’re gonna laugh, but I always wanted to get married and have a family. I know that times have changed and you lot don’t really believe in marriage and stuff that much anymore but I’m a family guy. Always have been.” He admits, finally looking at me and I see the honesty written across his face. “It just sucks that I’ll never actually get to experience it.”

My heart aches for him. One fatal accident and his entire future was stripped away. Never getting to experience the things he always dreamed of. It breaks heart, knowing what he could have had.

“Wally, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s no big deal, really, I’ve spent the last few decades accepting my fate and it’s not so bad here.” He tells me, a sadness shining in the brown of his eyes, trying his best to cover it up with a soft smile. “What about you? Other than taking over the world with your best friend, what was the plan?”

Giggling slightly as he references Abby’s speech, I start to wonder what my life would’ve looked like. Truthfully, I have no idea. My life revolved around dancing and cheer, other than that I have no clue as to who I am. Up until my death, I didn’t believe I was worthy of love, the one chance I took was with Spencer and look how that turned out.

“I suppose I wanted to leave Split River, Abby wanted to go to New York so I figured I would study there.” I reply, knowing New York was never my dream. I just couldn’t bare to part with her once high school ended. “It would be quite nice to live on a farm. Out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by animals, I think that would’ve been my dream.”

“Now this makes sense.”

Crossing my legs underneath me to sit up properly, he’s unable to hide the bright smile on his face. Clearly finding some amusement in what I said.

“What makes sense?” I ask, to which he laughs quietly. Pulling a clump of grass out of the ground, I launch it in his direction. “Hey, you dickhead, I didn’t laugh at you, so you can’t laugh at me.”

“No, no. I’m not laughing at you.” Wally speaks through chuckles, rolling on to his back. “It just makes sense now why you like to sit out here.”

His arms are thrown across his face, shielding his eyes from the sun. I can’t help but stare as his muscles flex, admiring the sight in front of me. Following his body, I find myself biting the inside of my cheek as I notice his top has risen up his stomach ever so slightly. Highlighting the small trail of hair that dips below his shorts.

“Did you have a girlfriend?” I blurt out, before I even realise what I’m saying.

Slapping my hand across my mouth, embarrassment floods my body, eyes wide as Wally smiles. Eyebrows raised as he looks over to me. Sly smile making its way on to his face.

“No. No girlfriend. Why?”

“I was just wondering. I mean, star high school quarterback, you must have had girls queuing up for your attention.” I’m able to stop myself before I begin a long-winded rant. Helping to ease at least a tiny amount of my embarrassment.

Wally rolls his eyes at my comment. “Well in that case you must’ve had boys queuing up for your attention. What with being head cheerleader and all.”

“Ha ha. Okay, I know it was a stupid question.”

Fortunately for me, I’m saved from making a fool out of myself even more by the sounds of cars entering the parking lot. In unison, we both turn to face the sound. Observing the students that have started to filter into the building, chatting loudly amongst one another as they do so.

My vision locks in on Spencer and his gang of hooligans. They’re jumping all over one another without a care in the world as they make their way into the school. Trail of awestruck girls following behind in the hopes of garnering the smallest amount of attention from one of the jocks.

If only I was able to tell them what they’re really like. Perhaps they wouldn’t make the same mistake that I made. Perhaps I’d be able to save them from the same fate that I suffered.

“So I was thinking we could have a pool day. I think Charlie would be up for it, maybe not Rhonda, but it could be fun for us all just to chill out. You haven’t really spent much time with anyone else apart from in our sessions with Mr Martin.”

Wally’s words echo around my head though I’m not paying any attention. Despite, no longer being able to see the group that I was fixated on, I’m still closely watching the area that they had just previously been walking through.

Two weeks later and Spencer and his friends still evade justice. Police presence at the school has increased drastically with crime scene investigators cornering off the old toilet block. Maybe I’m impatient, but it feels like they’re getting away with it. Receiving no consequences for their heinous actions.

“Y/N, are you listening?”

Wally’s words finally drag me out of my thoughts and I meet his eyes. “Yeah, pool day, sounds good.”

“And we’re inviting Charlie and Rhonda.” He states, eyebrows raised as he knows I wasn’t truly paying attention to a word he said.

“Oh, no. They’re nice but can we just do it alone? I’m not sure I feel up to doing a whole group thing.”

Wally nods, though his eyes narrow. Sensing there’s something off with me. He’s good at noticing whenever my demeanour changes, or whenever something is bothering me. It’s part of his nature.

“Yeah of course. We should probably head to group first though.” The athlete pushes himself off the floor as he speaks, waiting for me to stand as well which I reluctantly do, not before releasing an annoyed groan. “You know, one of these days, you might actually enjoy the sessions.”

Rolling my eyes, I follow Wally towards the gym. He holds the doors open for me as we enter the building, his small act of chivalry makes me giddy. I make no effort to show this however, politely thanking the boy as I walk through.

“Ah here they are! Took you two long enough.” Charlie jokes as we enter the gym, taking our seats. I sit between Dawn and Rhonda with Wally seating himself between Charlie and Mr Martin.

“No guesses what they’ve been up to.” Rhonda comments, lollipop hanging out the side of her mouth as she does so.

“Thank you Rhonda.” Mr Martin chimes in, stopping the conversation from escalating any further. “So today, I figured we would get to know our newest member. Y/N you’ve been here for a couple of weeks now and we still don’t know too much about you.”

“I’m sure Wally could tell us all about her.” Rhonda remarks under her breath. So quiet, I almost don’t catch it.

“I’m sorry, is there something you want to say?” I snap, my tone harsh and confronting.

She laughs in response, the annoyance on my face evident as I glare at her. Her snarky and sarcastic nature hasn’t proven to be a problem for me, though I think that may be about to change.

“Y/N, tell us about your death. We’re all dying to know what happened. No pun intended.” The teacher interjects, attempting to diffuse the tense situation yet I still feel on edge.

“No thank you.”

“Oh come on Y/N, none of us are going to judge you. You know that.” Charlie tells me, offering me a reassuring smile.

“No, she’d rather just listen to all our trauma. Isn’t that right cherry pop?”

Rhonda’s words strike a chord within me. I’ll admit, the other ghosts have been very open about their deaths with me. All discussing in detail what happened to them to result in this fate. Sure, I haven’t divulged into the details of my death as of yet, but it’s for good reason. Not only am I still trying to process it myself but I don’t want them to look at me any differently nor do I want them to take pity on me when they learn the details.

“Do you have a problem with me or something Rhonda?” I ask, swinging around in my chair so that I can face her directly.

Upon doing so, I take note of how Charlie and Wally are quick to sit up straight. Feeling the anger radiating off me and awaiting any possible confrontation that may be about to occur.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” The girl retorts, crossing her arms over her chest before she continues speaking. “You waltz in here and make no effort with any of us besides Wally. Who, let’s not forget, you made to feel like a piece of shit on your first day after that unreasonable outburst. You listen to all of us recounting our deaths, the most traumatic things that could’ve happened to us and still none of us know what happened to you. It hardly seems fair.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry Rhonda. I’m sorry that i’m still processing what happened to me. I’m sorry that I’m not ready to discuss it with a group of strangers. I am so sorry that I’m not getting over everything as quick as you would like me to.”

My voice is raised as I speak, hurt that she would even think that my choice not to share what happened is a personal attack on the group. No matter how hurt I’m feeling, the anger completely outweighs it. Angry that she can’t see that I’m still struggling and angry that my murderers are still attending this school. Instead of being locked behind bars for the rest of their life, like they deserve to be. Nobody can understand what I am going through and that makes me so astonishingly angry.

“Boo hoo. You’re still processing, we’re all still processing. Not to mention the fact that we’ve barely seen Wally these past couple of weeks because he’s been trailing around after you, trying to make you feel less threatened by him. He’s even taken off that stupid football shirt that he loved so much! I hate to break it to you, but he was here first.” She argues, tears well in my eyes as she mentions Wally. I lock eyes with him and see his downcast expression. Was she right? Was he only spending this time with me to make me feel better and less scared? “You should do everybody a favour and fuck off back to the old toilet block where you came from.”

“Rhonda!” Charlie exclaims, clearly shocked by her words.

“Is that how you really feel Wally?” I ask hesitantly, the dejection evident in my voice.

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. Nodding slightly, I understand completely. Pushing myself out of the chair, nobody speaks as I make my exit from the room.

“Lovely chat.” Rhonda shouts, one last attempt to get a reaction from me. Even as I shove open the doors with an obnoxious slam, I don’t look back.

The entirety of my body feels heavy as I drag myself down the hallways. Nobody comes after me, not even Wally. I feel truly alone, hurt and confused. Death was supposed to be peaceful and yet here I am. Suffering more than I ever did when alive.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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[d3sserts0ul]

Have a little request :33. The DOA with a member who’s afraid of blood, I feel like it’d be interesting

Sure! Right below~ ( Little warning though, they might be a bit out of character..)

“ 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘭oo𝘥𝘺．𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶? ”

𝘋𝘰𝘈 [ 𝘋𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘴 ] 𝘟 𝘎𝘕！𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘌𝘙 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥．

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ；𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴，𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶／𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳，𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧．

𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘔𝘚 ；𝘏𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘢 － 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥.

Дорогой — Darling (Russian).

－ 𝘚𝘪𝘨𝘮𝘢

• When you two went on a mission together, he was pretty confused and concerned on the fact that everytime he shot someone and blood splattered on you or him or anywhere for that matter, you started to freak out.

• Of course, he managed to calm you down. But that didn’t explain why you panicked or what even caused you to feel that way. Was it the gun or the sound of the gun? Maybe it was you seeing a corpse? All of these questions echoed in his head, and he wanted (needed) them to be answered so he could help avoid the issue in the future. So he decides that this will be talked about as soon as you get home, and he WILL be focused on that topic whole day because he’s worried something might be wrong with you, and you’re too precious to lose.

• Once you tell him that you have hemophobia, and get bothered when you see blood, everything started to click. Even this didn’t seem like a big deal to you, it became one to him. After all, he wants you to enjoy yourself, even during missions.

• Sigma understood that blood can traumatize people and cause them to have a negative reaction to it and he was fine with it, but what worried him was that since you are a member of the Decay of Angels, the job can have a lot of bloody work and preventing you from being upset from the sight/thought of blood could or would be inevitable.

• To carry out with his plan, he does some extra research on the phobia particularly just so he can clearly understand it, as well as using his ability by touching you to find out if you have any more phobias. ( in case he hasn’t already use his ability on you. )

• Sigma tries to come up with something to help you do your job without any problems, ranging from him doing the bloody work and having you look away, or maybe you can work behind the scenes rather than being on foot and having to deal with killing people or watching people get killed. He even talks with Fyodor and Nikolai in which Fyo responds brutally, calling you unworthy of being a DoA member. On the other hand, Nikolai wants to try to help you on feeling comfortable. But since Nikolai is Nikolai, it’s a good chance he’ll also call you make fun of you and weak for being afraid of blood.

• Absolute sweetheart and supportive unlike the others in the group, even fascinated that hemophobia is even a type of phobia. If you want to tell Sigma why you have that phobia, he’ll listen closely and comfort you if you happen to cry while explaining the reason. Overall, Sigma deals with you very nicely with someone who has hemophobia.

Sigma leans against a wall, breathing heavily after fleeing a bloody scene from earlier. You didn’t know what had happened back there, but you did hear some screams and gunshots. Who would’ve thought that Sigma was deadly and cute. “ I hate missions like this. I'd rather be up working on the sky casino than this. ” He mumbles under his breath. You felt shakened up from before and he could tell, telling from your legs shivering. “ Is everything okay? I hope nothing scared you. ” A worried tone says to you. “ I’m fine. I didn’t see any blood or something but I’m just… shaken up from that. ” You replied.

“ Understood, I hope the method we chose eased your trigger. If you need anything, I’m at your call. ” Sigma fixed his posture and walked up to you, putting your hands in his. His eyes showed gentleness and warmth.

“ I talked with the other members, and they will try to fix a position for you to not be around blood. ”

－ 𝘍𝘺𝘰𝘥𝘰𝘳

• Fyodor probably either knew you had a phobia of blood, or just didn’t at all. Safe to say, he took the information and used it to his advantage.

• He listened to you explaining your hatred or fear for blood, beginning to laugh halfway through the explanation. You were confused on what was so funny, until he told you that you were weak as hell for that and you aren’t really worthy of being a Decay of angels member.

• Don’t get him wrong, he thinks you’re stronger than an average human/ability user. But blood? Yeah no, you’re going to see that anytime you go on a mission with him— And you always accompany him on missions, whether you like it or not.

• Thinks you need some training in learning how to deal with blood. This training is harsh, usually having you watch him take out a target with his ability, then ordering you to stay there and endure the sight of blood. His eyes watch your every move and expression as you begin to panic.

• Fyodor threatens to force you to watch him kill someone if you get out of line. As long as you follow his every order and not be a brat, you won’t have to go through anymore psychological trauma.

• But there are times where you bawl your eyes out from the sight of blood, and sometimes (rarely) Fyodor offers you to sit on his lap and calm down once you both are at home. Stroking a hand up and down your back, it’s a sugarcoated action and his voice an be sweet like honey. But since Fyodor is… what he is, this is to only make you come back for more and become obedient to him.

• If he unfortunately happens to be in a bad mood, and you also happen to be triggered, he won’t beat you psychically but will hurt you with his words, going on and on about how pathetic you look crying about something humans have daily and that some people have it worse.

• Though he ‘apologizes’ through touches right after though and will gaslight you. Saying that he didn’t mean it and that you’re such a snowflake.

• If it makes you feel any better though, Fyodor finally decided that your phobia is permanent and irreversible. Therefore he will no longer let you go to missions and might just have you stay home since you’re supposed to be a housewife/husband for him anyways. You’ll usually have Ivan watch you, and if you happen to accidentally see blood, he is quick to distract you and cover your eyes.

You sat in front of him, teared up and sobbing.“ Stop crying Дорогой, it was just a small injury. ” Fyodor spoke up with a smug look on his face, wrapping his hand in bandages. You were in a vulnerable state and he admired how you trusted him during a time like this, so he suppose he could help his precious angel. You try to stop the tears from forming and fall down your flushed cheeks and was successful. Once you calmed down, Fyodor sighed softly in a bit of irritation. “ I came up with a solution with your illness— ”

“ It isn’t an illness, Fyo. ” You corrected him. He obviously didn’t like that, and it was evident on his face. “ Don’t speak unless I tell you to. You know what happens when you’re a brat, yes? ” He warned. You cross your arms as a response. “ As I was saying. I came up with a solution. You will be staying with Ivan now and any mission there is where it doesn’t involve death, you will do. Understand? ” Fyodor asks. You nod.

“ I still don’t understand why a little bit of blood can invoke fear in one. You really are an odd one. ”

－ 𝘕𝘪𝘬𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘪

• When you first told Nikolai, he just asked an overwhelming amount of questions about it.

• Honestly really intrigued and proceeded to tell some phobias of his own. Even if this thing was about you only.

• He kinda wants to help but also wants to prank the hell out of you with it, which he usually does.

• Sometimes Nikolai would say that the mission you two are going on is a rather tame one, involving no blood. But once you two go on the mission and end up have some ‘ company ’, he smirks and asks “ things are going to get a bit bloody, you’re fine with that right? ”

• Not funny, didn’t laugh and he could tell you didn’t find that funny. Always apologizes if he does that even if he did it unintentionally.

• Comforts you if you just so happen to freak out or get sick when seeing blood. Loves seeing your pretty tears, even if your upset, sometimes it makes him want to reward you.

• tries to talk to fyodor to make you not go on too dangerous missions, because he thinks that if you fight with some thugs or whatever, you’ll see blood from a injury or corpse and freeze up, causing you to be killed by who ever you’re fighting. And since Fyodor and Nikolai are… friends… then Fyodor tell him to do whatever he thinks fit.

“ Oh how sensitive you are, doll. It’s adorable to me. ” Nikolai smirks as you cling on to him, a person Nikolai just killed laying in a puddle of their own blood. You didn’t feel too good seeing this and he could tell, therefore cupping your cheeks and having you look at him. “ Come on now, it’s just a corpse, breathe. ” Nikolai chuckled, before placing a kiss on your lips. That seemed to have calmed you down and he did it again, and again and once more.

“ You are just so desperate for my kisses, aren’t you? ”

I love how sigma is the only normal one out of the bunch…😭

[imkylotrash]

Growing Sideways

Pairing: Haymitch Abernathy x reader

Summary: Haymitch realizes you're not safe after the stunt he pulled with the forcefield in the arena, so he forces you to flee District 13.

A/N Please excuse any mistakes. I didn't proofread this

Everything is changed when he returns from the Games. He never talks about them. Not to his parents, not to his brother, and certainly not to you. Of course, you watched them live on the broadcast same as everyone else in Panem but there are moments you can't even begin to understand or comprehend, and Haymitch knows that. You feel him slipping through your fingers, and you can't even blame him. Going through something so traumatic... you shudder at the thought. It doesn't stop you from being there though. You don't push him, but you're always right there when he needs you.

Two weeks pass before you experience the aftermath of one of his nightmares. His mother invited you to stay after dinner even though Haymitch wasn't home. You'd be lying if you said that you didn't accept her invitation with the hopes of seeing Haymitch.

"He's not very fond of using the front door," his mother remarks dryly when the bump of two feet hitting the floor interrupts your conversation. But her eyes shine with worry about her son.

"I'll go check on him," you excuse yourself and get up from the couch. He crawled through the window into his room, most likely to avoid the confrontation with his family. There's a half-empty bottle lying on the floor and seeping onto the carpet of his room. Haymitch is passed out in his bed, looking too much like the sweet 16-year-old boy he was before the Hunger Games.

Today had been rough. Haymitch had once again been forced to play the part of the victor for some celebratory show in the Capitol. Those people forget that it's real children they send into that arena. The thought of them enjoying themselves while watching kids get killed is enough to make you feel nauseous.

"Don't leave," he mumbles before beginning to toss around in the bed. Nightmares. It's been like this every single night since he came back but this is the first time, you're here to actually experience it. The only reason you know is because his parents have shared their concerns with you.

"Please," he chokes, a trickle of sweat starting to show on his face.

"I'm dealing with this the best I can!"

You get on your knees in front of the bed and carefully take his hands into yours, ignoring the echoes of your fight earlier today. His thrashing stops momentarily, allowing you to crawl into bed with him.

"I don't even want you here, so why do you insist on being here?"

"Y/N?" he whispers, not fully awake yet.

"I'm right here."

"Just leave me alone."

One thing Haymitch Abernathy doesn't get to do is push you away when he's hurting. You can't stand the thought of him in pain, and the pain only multiplies in the next couple of days. You're not sure why you're surprised. After the stunt he pulled with the forcefield, of course, the President would be angry.

His father dies first. Mining accident. Nothing suspicious about that. He's certainly not the first to lose his life in those mines.

You imagine his mother is trickier. Maybe that's why they decide to have the peacekeepers execute her in the square for buying supplies at the black market. That day Haymitch packs a bag with your belongings and sends word to his contact at District 13. A contact he's only known since they were introduced under the games. They keep you safe and in return, he works for them in order to bring down the Capitol. Neither of you has any idea what that really means, but Haymitch doesn't care if it means you're safe.

"Haymitch, I can't just leave. There are people who depend on me."

"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. You're leaving at 8pm tonight." He shoves another sweater into your bag as if that's what you'll be missing if you go to District 13. Everything is happening too fast. Five minutes ago, you had no idea District 13 still existed, and now you're going there indefinitely?

"Do you not understand that he will kill you just for being associated with me?" Pain is evident in his voice as he finally turns to look at you. He's already lost his family, he can't watch you die too, and you know that.

"You're a victor, you won the games. The Capitol loves our relationship, he can't kill me," you argue.

"Nobody ever wins the Games. Period. There are survivors. There're no winners."

"Come with me then," you plead, your voice shaking with unshed tears but there's no escaping for him. He's a victor, and he'll be forced to perform as such for the rest of his life. Your final hug is filled with things you can't bring yourself to say. Things Haymitch already knows, and things you promise yourself to tell him when you see him again.

[lyra-kane]

Here are my ranking of characters in the caraval/ouabh world (it's long read at ur own risk)

1.jacks ..duh

The archer? The prince of hearts? Imagine having more iconic titles than these!

I really love his character it's very well written. He's not the typical morally gray who is always grumpy he has a really good sense of dark humor, which adds more to his character. Bro also literally dyed his hair blue after he got his heart broken, and he eats apple to stop his urge from kissing? I can't..😭 the way he teased eva? Hehehe, he had me giggling. I love sm their banter! Also, don't get me started on "there's nothing of equal value to me" bro just take my heart😔🫶 also him trying to teach eva how to defend herself then come saving her each time>>>

2.Evangeline

She literally the softest character and she didn't lose her feminine vibes and got cold because the world was against her she fought for what she believes in and LITERALLY THE FIRST FMC TO CONFEESS TO THE ML also she's vulnerable and forgiving she still had progress at the end ! She's the best example of coquette girl 🎀🩷 she isn't blinded by revenge like other mc she just want to live happily with jacks and she didn't sit and wish for it to happen she fought for love! She confessed to Jacks , and she kissed him herself! she's one of my favorite FMC!🥰💕

3.Scarlett

Scarlett is the most caring person she always put other needs above herself, especially if it comes to her sister since she was her only family I think when their mother left she felt like she had to fill that role since older sister kinda have a protective side to their younger siblings she even was ready to marry a man by his letters for that, I'm so glad she meet Julian because they just fit together! The way she was ready to make him hate her just so he can be free... I love that woman, a true empress indeed❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥🤌

4. Julian santos

I will try to keep it short from now! I love that men the way he only had was following his brother's script, but he was ready to change it just for her , bro even gave a day from his life for her so she'd wake up to not miss the game. He got a crimson tattoo to not forget her😭 he was ready to fight to save her at the end ! They're literally my babies..😔💓also we're getting his pov in the spectacular hehehehe🤭

5. Lala

I just love iconic women who love fashion, ngl. I was mad at her when I learned she was responsible for the curse, but in the end jacks did worse things💀, plus she did save eva she also supported her till the end!girlie was ready to kill aurora for her! Also, I hope she can finally find love, and it lasts! I need a book for her with chaos, hehehe 🤭

6.chaos

Ok, i was mad when he killed eva, but I get it. I can't imagine being turned to a vampire, then had to wear a helmet for God knows how many years that prevent me from drinking blood. It's not like he had control on himself, but I'm sure he was traumatized when he realized what he did! I'm so curious to learn more about him too, and plus he did have iconic moments that made me giggle 🤭 I also have a thing for vampires ...😔💕

7. Dontella

Ok, to be honest, I'm neutral about her. I don't like her nor hate her. Yes, she was annoying sometimes, but do I think that she deserves to HATED ? No hate is a strong word. Also, I actually would defend her from the people who accuse her of not caring about scarlet.. I mentioned it before in another post..

8.legend

Ok, cool, sometimes , but ugh, I hate how he treated Julian sm...also the whole grandma thing...ik he's immortal and old, but why stephanie?😭

I'm not a fan of him. Also neutral although he does have moments I enjoyed, like when he visited tella Dreams or some moments as dante, i hope he grows on me in spectacular 👍

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Pretty like the sun

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n the follow up chapter AND This is pretty like the wind series spin offs. This can be read as standalone all you need to know is that Azriel has two adoptive kids with OC - Zofie and Axel. Future stories related to them might include stories specifically decided to Azriel hence why I am taging it as Azriel story too. Don't come at me please. ✨

warning: none? A bit of fighting, blood.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Zofie's pov:

She had been beaming all morning. Not only had it been the best sleep of her life, but there was something so surreal about waking up in the arms of a man you had the biggest crush on. There was a moment when Zofie was sure that it was her sleepy brain playing a trick on her. That Nyx wasn't there with her. They weren't actually in the same situation. Limbs tangled. But Nyx's arms, which had quite a firm hold on her hips, felt all too real. His breathing did, too. So did his messy hair and slightly pouty lips.

How did one look so adorable in their sleep? Mother, he would be a frowning mess if she called him cute. But he was, and Zofie had to try really hard to suppress the giddy excitement that bubbled in her chest. Nuzzling back into the crook of Nyx's neck, she breathed in his scent. Feeling her body melt into it. Oh, how she missed him when he was away. How oddly lonely she felt. Truth be told, Zofie didn't have many friends. A couple of younger priestesses that Gwyn was teaching, yes, but they practically never talked. So... not friends. But Nyx had always been so keen on getting her attention. She was weary of him at first. He was the most talkative kid she had ever seen. But then Zofie only had a handful of traumatized sanctuary toddlers to compare him to. His bubbly side chipped away with the years, though. More often than not, the smile that was plastered on Nyx's face was nowhere near the smile he used to give her when they were younger.

"You're the cuddliest person I've come across in my entire life," Nyx grumbled, opening one eye to look at her. "So, if I pulled away now..." Zofie muttered, but Nyx's grip on her tightened immediately, "Don't you even think about it?" His morning voice was raspy and, oh, so delicious. "Got you," Zofie breathed out, shaking her head. He never denied her touch. She could watch him roll his eyes at Feyre kissing his cheek, but the next minute he would be right next to Zofie, his fingers subtly reaching for her as their palms brushed against one another.

"Do you think if I don't open my eyes, we can pretend that we don't have to go back?" Nyx muttered, and Zofie could sense the dread in his tone. "Your mom probably misses you a lot," she said softly. "Cause Ma always cries when Axel comes home, so I'm sure the high lady would..." "Don't." Nyx's whole body stiffened. Zofie frowned as specks of red fell onto the sheets. He was mad. Or frustrated, at least. "Did something happen?" Her voice grew weary, and Nyx's face grew ashamed. Hands pulling the girl back to his chest, "Promise it's nothing; I'm sorry, just tired," he breathed out. She didn't say anything after that. Letting the silence stretch over them both.

"My... The high lords are hosting a ball", and Nyx sounded as if this was the most dreadful thing he had to make himself think about once again. Zofie quickly cut in, "You don't want to go?". Nyx huffed, "Something like that." She never really understood if the high lords of the night court enjoyed the festivities themselves. Rhys, Nyx's dad, was a charmer, always quick to tell a joke. His grin never failed at balls and parties. But Zofie had caught him once. Head in hands. Messy hair. Wrinkled shirt. It was such a difference compared to that beaming smile she had seen on her high lord's face only moments ago. "Well, Axel and I will probably be there if our parents are going," Zofie breathed out, hoping to ease some of the tension, but Nyx simply shook his head. "I have a feeling it's the lordship shit," the heir growled before explaining even further, "Preppy parents in desperate need to marry off their children to form bonds between courts."

And here it was. This was the thing Nyx hated with a burning passion. All he wanted was to be normal. A young man still so full of life not some crystal gem for everyone to drool over. He cringed and frowned at all the titles people threw his way. And Zofie... Zofie hated every single female who felt entitled to come and touch him, pull at his hands, and rub at him like cats in heat. "Oh, Nyx," she breathed, her fingers carefully brushing through his hair. His fingers grazed her wrist tenderly. "Everyone is making such a big fuss over it too," he admitted as Zofie nodded in agreement. No wonder he was stressed. Especially if he was also to be left alone. Only with nobility to keep him company all night long.

"Bitch your way through it," Zofie muttered, and Nyx let out the most genuine chuckles she had heard in a while. But it had also died down as quickly as it started, "Will you tell me why you were by the river last night?" Zofie knew this was coming. Nyx had a hard time letting go of the topics he wanted to discuss. And he had been more than clear that he was going to get the answer out of her about this. So fighting this...

"I have a sister," Zofie breathed, her eyes falling to the crisp white sheets on the bed. Nyx shifted slightly, his hand dipping beneath the blanket to run soothingly up her thigh, "I hear a sad note in that," he muttered. And Zofie hated that. She hated that she was still upset over something she genuinely wanted. She didn't care much about having to share her parents' attention for a while. It was everything else that ticked her off. "She's perfect", Zofie let out a deep sigh, "Has wings, no flaws. She's perfectly Azriel's". Her voice died down, overpowered by the growl Nyx had let out. "Has that asshole?", "No, no, I just... it's me," Zofie shook her head, "I felt... irrelevant.".

The room fell silent. She watched as Nyx blinked a couple of times, letting her words sink in, "Don't you talk shit like that about yourself?" His voice had an edge to it. A powerful force. "But it's true; I'm Illyrian but have no wings," Zofie muttered, turning to play with her fingers instead. Admitting her fears and insecurities felt humiliating almost. "I'll always be your wings," Nyx's much bigger palm cupped hers, giving it a little squeeze. "What have I done to deserve you, huh?" Zofie chuckled slightly, hoping to mask the sting in her eyes. Nyx crooked his head to the side. Watching her for a moment, "You didn't have to do anything. I'm the one who's lucky that you were born.".

Nyx's pov:

They had laughed through the whole flight back to the city. And the closer they got, the more Nyx dreaded it. He didn't care much about the shit he was going to get from Rhys. But it's the letting go part that pressed against his chest. He knew, for a fact, that if not tonight, then by the next morning they would be ushered back into the camps up the mountain. Yes, he was happy to learn and to earn a rank, but leaving her here felt like a dreadful task. Not to mention that they weren't allowed to write letters while they were up there. Not to mention that Nyx had a whole box of letters he had written for Zofie. Ones he had written while up there. Ones that no one would ever see.

Zofie had asked him to drop her off at the edge of the forest near the house. "Better if you don't just walk in. You know my dad," she said. However, Nyx felt it the minute Zofie's legs hit the snow beneath her. He had barely let go of her when the claws of darkness pulled him back, nearly sending him to his feet. But he expected this. Escaping the spymaster under the protection of his father's wards was one thing. The moment they were on the perimeter of Velaris, well, let's say that was Azriel's hunting territory. And that male always hunted as if he were starving.

Nyx had seen Azriel pissed more than once, but the frown on his face this time was unmatched. And accompanied by the dark circles beneath his eyes. Yeah, he looked as if he was out for blood. "You forgot yours, young man," the spymaster said through gritted teeth as his shadows roped around the princeling's ankles and wrists.

"Dad, that's enough." Zofie stomped through the thick snow, trying to get in between the two of them. Nyx wished she wasn't there. He hated it when she was there to witness their snarls. "You lost all sense of fun, uncle," Nyx said mockingly. His own hands grew dark, seizing the spymaster's dark, as cold gloominess chased all of Azriel's shadows away. "You had no right to take her like that," Azliel bit back; his wings were arched in a warning, but Nyx didn't skip a beat, doing just the same.

"No one took me," Zofie growled with a huff. And it was the way Azriel had turned back to look down at her that broke the last sense of logic within Nyx. It was the way his big frame looked toward her when Azriel snared, "I wasn't speaking to you, young lady," that undid Nyx. "Why?", he asked bitterly, "Because you forgot that she existed? The new child has already taken too much of your time?". It felt as if the whole world had stopped. Even the snowflakes seemed to have seized in their fall. "Nyx..." he said, meeting Zofie's pleading eyes. Saw her shaking her head in disapproval. But he was truly seeing red. No one had a right to make her. Make his sunshine feel small.

"What did you just say?" Azriel frowned, slightly taken back, but his demeanor was still predatory. The princeling only growled back at the shadowsinger. "Nyx for fuck sake," Zofie pleaded, panic raising to her features as she moved closer to her dad in hopes of putting distance between them. But it was for nothing when Nyx muttered, "You heard me loud and clear, spymaster." Nyx managed to spare Zofie one look. One look before his vision was interrupted by black dots as his head was wiped to the side from the impact. Zofie's shriek pierced the silence, rippling over every surface.

Nyx knew that, in a way, he deserved it, so it didn't surprise him. He had been messing with the habitat of fae males. One who had just become a father. One who's instinct to protect was on such high alert. But he had to. Had to stand up for her. "Papa, please," Zofie pleaded. Nyx wiped the warm liquid trickling down the side of his lip. Oh, he was not going to go down without a fight. "Please, let's just go home. Please, I'm sorry". Her tiny hands were grasping at Azriel's hands, trying to pull him back. "Don't you apologize for him," Nyx snarled, but Zofie's firey eyes met his as she muttered, "Shut up." Only now did Nyx notice the tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. Only now did he see the quiver in her chin.

"Zof," Nyx breathed out, but the girl had simply turned her back on him. "Come on, papa, please," she pleaded once more, and this time it was enough to get Azriel's attention. His chest was still heavy as he breathed through his anger. "If I ever catch you doing anything like this," Azriel snarled, stepping forward to look at Nyx, but Zofie pushed back, putting all of her weight against her dad. "Consider yourself fucking lucky." Azriel flapped his wings a couple of times before reaching for Zofie's hand, tugging her alongside him as the shadows swallowed them both.

Your pov:

Quite frankly, you knew something was wrong from the moment you looked up to see Zofie's pale face when Novie was born. And deep down, you knew that this insecurity that was quite clearly blooming right in front of you was inevitable. You just didn't know it would take a turn like that. Zofie had always been good about voicing her discomfort, and you had always encouraged her to speak her mind, but it seemed as if your love had been lost in the shuffle of it all.

You knocked on her bedroom door gently. It's been a couple of hours since she and Azriel got back home. Your mate, mostly thanks to his lack of sleep, assumed that you both hadn't noticed your girl not being home and, and then hadn't felt them coming home. It was the stench of anger that was dripping from Azriel that was enough to let you know that a fight must have happened. And this sort of frustration as of lately was only brought on by one person.

Without getting an answer, you just let yourself in after a while. Zofie was curled up in a ball, and the blanket Azriel had knitted for her was tightly wrapped around her. That fact must have slipped her mind, considering the fight the two have been in. Sitting down on the very edge, you let your fingers gently brush through Zofie's dark waves.

"Sweetness, why don't you eat up? It's lunchtime", you said gently, nodding towards the plate of warm food you had brought up for her. She simply shook her head, turning away from your touch. A sharp ache pierced your heart. If your children were hurting, so were you. You climbed into the bed, nudging her slightly as you moved to wrap your arms around the girl. Let her be the little spoon.

Zofie laid as still as a statue for a moment before her arms snaked around yours. "Now he will never love me again," Zofie's voice was barely a whisper, but you still managed to hear her perfectly well. "Who, baby?" you asked, running your fingers up and down her arm. She stilled for a moment before looking up to catch your gaze and saying, "Papa." A breath hitched in your throat. "Lovie," you muttered.

Zofie quickly shuffled, sitting up. "First, I don't have wings; now he thinks I'm sneaking behind his back with Nyx," she blurted out in a rush, "And I'm not, I promise." She caught your arm, shaking it slightly. You cupped her face softly and said, "There is nothing wrong with you falling in love." Her face scrunched up so hard that you almost had to laugh. "I'm not in love. I'm not", she stated. "Okay, okay," you muttered, tapping her cheek playfully.

"And Azriel loves you, Zo." Your tone was much firmer now. You understood the fears. Mother, even you still had them. Wondering why? Why had Azriel chosen you, and what did he see in you? So for a teenager to have emotions like that, "He had loved you from the moment he saw you," you added.

Zofie bit her lip as if contemplating her next words for a moment, "But his yellow is fading", she admitted. Her colors. She found comfort in them, but good things usually come with baggage. Understanding the amount of emotion there was still a hard task. "That doesn't mean he stopped loving you. Maybe the color is evolving. Shifting into something different", you said softly. You made a mental note to ask her tutor to find her a book about the colors of emotions to read. Well, one that she hadn't already devoured.

"Hate," those silent words, made your mind halt. You shook your head. "Love has different forms; you'll learn that along the way," You reached up to carefully take her necklace between your fingers. "Papa is on edge right now because a lot of things are changing. He's sensitive because he's lost so much already. Losing all of us would break him without repair." It felt like a lot to unload on her, but she had to see that Azriel's love hadn't just faltered or disappeared because of Novie. Thinking like wings, no wings, scars on no, even the blood bond didn't matter to Azriel. Zofie pinched her eyebrows. "Is he home?", she breathed, "I need to...", "He's out on his broody walk, but I'm sure he'll be back soon," you said softly, reaching for the plate and handing it to her. She was desperate to make sure that she had at least some food in her stomach.

Nyx pov:

He had lost track of how long he had been flying. Nor did he know where he was going, but regardless of his endless attempts to escape it, Nyx knew that he would have to go home eventually. A part of him hoped that Rhys wouldn't have been able to sniff this one out, but then Nyx had lost track of his uncle fairly early on. So Azriel could have already been stomping his foot in his father's office.

"Purple truly suits you." As if on cue, Rhys's voice rang out. He was seated in front of a fireplace. A drink in hand. His usual black button-up shirt hugged his skin. Nyx didn't hate his father. He hated the high-lord aspect of him. Yes, he was different from most. Mother, spare anyone from a father like Beron, but... he still valued his position a bit too much at times. Nyx simply shook his head, shifting to move toward the back patio, but his father's voice stopped him, "I don't remember letting you walk away.".

Nyx let out a bitter chuckle, "Oh, so now I am to obey you too, like a servant?" It was bitter; he knew it. But Nyx just wasn't in the mood—wasn't in the mood to deal with any of this right now. "You're my son," Rhys stated firmly, his purple eyes gleaming. "Doesn't that just suit your story?" Nyx barked back, matching his father's glare. "Nyx," Rhys said in a warning tone, but the princeling was already walking. "I'll be with Mom," he breathed over his shoulder.

The wind that hit his face as he stepped outside soothed his heated cheeks. He always loved the walk towards his mother's gallery. It had always been his favorite time of the day when the two of them would go there. Gods, did he need to clear his head. Anything. Everything. All he could think of was her. Yet... two hands clasped his shoulders, making Nyx quickly spin back, putting whoever was behind him in a chokehold.

"Well, dang, you're on edge, my man," a familiar voice rasped out, and Nyx instantly let go, pushing the figure forward. "What the hell are you doing here?", he whispered. Axel simply smirked before shrugging, even if his eyes lingered on the library door for a bit too long. "I came to see how my dad painted your face," Axel chuckled, "Pretty." Nyx simply flipped his friends off and said, "Fuck off." Yet the corners of his lips did twitch slightly. Axel always had that effect on him. It was hard to not smile around him.

"She's okay," Axel muttered, making Nyx's eyes snap up at him. Yet he refused to give in to it. "I don't care," he said simply. Axel raised one eyebrow at his friend, tilting his head to the side, and, "Right, so you wouldn't care if I told you that mom got her to eat, and she's much calmer now." Nyx's shoulders eased a bit. Eased almost immediately. A calmness like no other washed over him as he nodded in agreement.

"She asked about you." Now these words struck a chord with Nyx, and his big eyes were instantly searching for Axel. "Did she?", Nyx breathed out desperately. Axel simply chuckled, slowly shaking his head, "No, but I love proving a point." Nyx let out a growl, "I'm so kicking your ass on the sparring mat." But he couldn't help but smile now. Because Axel knew him. And in a way, this was his silent way of approving. Or at least not stepping between him and Zofie.

But Axel's eyes lingered behind his friend, and Nyx's eyes instantly followed suit. Only he caught sight of white robes slipping back inside the library. Nyx instantly turned back to face Axel. "What was that?", he questioned. Axel blinked a couple of times, "What was what?". Oh, but Nyx wasn't stupid. "That look," he muttered, motioning his hand towards Axel's face, "Are you fucking a prestress?" Axel frowned at the question instantly, his eyes finally moving to gaze at his friend, "What the hell, man, wash your mouth." Nyx chuckled slightly, but he knew deep down that the moment they were going to be better on the camp walls, he was going to get his answers one by one. Now all he needed was his sun. His Sunny and for some reason risking a black eye didn't seem that big of a sacrifice.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @sirenpearldust @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @naturakaashi @stressed-reader @woodland-mist @goldenmagnolias @nocasdatsgay

[astheworldgoesonitswickedway]

There was that one part in The Reptile Room, where Klaus asks if they can really have their own rooms. And Monty is kinda like "Of course??? I have this ginormous house?? Why would I force you all into one room, who would do that?" And Klaus is like. "Count Olaf did." Every time I remember that these guardians were V.F.D. and knew Olaf, literally grew up with him, and might even have been friends with him, it just changes everything. Every single time. Imagine all the flashbacks Monty had when Klaus said that. Imagine everything Monty knows. He "grimaced as if he tasted something terrible" and responds with "Count Olaf sounds like an awful person. I hope he is torn apart by wild animals someday. Wouldn't that be satisfying?" This is soo personal. I mean, what a completely unhinged thing to say to a group of traumatized children!? Maybe it's because I've been listening to the audiobooks, just to hear them read by Tim Curry, but I imagine Monty saying this in a suspiciously cheerful voice that is kind of scary. I love Monty, I really do. And I understand wanting Olaf brought to justice. And yeah, they may have wanted Olaf to feel some of the pain he caused others. But this is just so next level. And the fact that he says this and moves on like it's nothing. Like, what happened to you, Monty? Can we assume someone Monty cared about was eaten by wild animals because of Olaf? Maybe similar to Olivia? Or was that Monty just thinking up a particularly horrible way to die? Either way, there's a story here for sure.

Side note: I love the fact that Monty gave the children personalized tasks they would each enjoy to make them happy and keep them busy. I don't believe for a second those three tasks just so happened to line up. Isn't it more likely that V.F.D. was monitoring the Baudelaires and Monty made sure to find out what they liked and think up ways to make them feel involved and happy at the same time? It's so cute. And maybe, just maybe, it was a way to keep their focus off other things going on. Like deeper reasons for a trip to Peru. And secrets he wasn't ready to share.

[cherriegyuu]

Hiii. So i got into a car accident today while driving, nothing too bad happened to my car and the car that hit mine. Im also not badly jnjured but mentally, just got so traumatized from the impact. I can still hear the loud boom upon impact and like now im home about to sleep and while ive had many thoughts, one of them was just hoping there was someone who would care for me. Someone who’d come to my rescue as it happened and process the trauma with me. I could really see this with Seungcheol. Could you possibly write a drabble about this if its not too much ask?

Thank you

like we talked before, i hope you're doing well and that the worse is gone. i hope you enjoy! sorry it took me so long

pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader genre: angst  word count: 1.1k warning: car accident, reader gets hurt (minor)

a/n: this was not proofread

requests are open

You dropped the keys on the table, your bag and coat right on top of it. You glanced at your hands, just to have the confirmation that they were still shaking, though a visual confirmation wasn't really necessary, as you could feel it. The sight of it was just an added bonus. 

No more than 5 hours before you were in a car accident. While on your way to work, you stopped at a red sign — as one usually does — when someone hit you from behind, causing your car to hit the one in front of you. 

You were stuck in the car for at least 45 minutes until they managed to get you out. Your leg was stuck, it wasn't broken or hurt, but you were confident that if you tried to move it then you'd injure it. 

During those 45 minutes, all you wanted was to call Seungcheol and have his voice calm you down even just for a second. But your phone was inside your purse, in the backseat, so there was no way of reaching it. So you stayed stuck, silently crying.

The paramedics did their best to calm you down, talking with you the entire time, assuring you that everything was going to be okay. 

"Can I call my boyfriend?" you asked once they pulled you out.

The medic smiled at you and handed you your purse. You knew that Seungcheol was at a meeting, like his earlier text informed you, outside of town, so there was a possibility of him not answering the phone. But you had to try it. You: needed to hear his voice even if it was just the voicemail. 

He picked up the phone on the fourth ring.

"Baby, what happened? Is everything okay?" He said as soon as he picked up the call.

Seungcheol knew that you wouldn't call him over nothing, just to chat, while he was in a meeting, a very important one at that. That was an agreement the two of you made early on in your relationship: phone calls were mostly for emergencies during work hours. 

"I was in an accident," you said, trying to control your voice so as not to scare him "Someone hit me from behind so I hit the car in front of me"

There was a moment of silence, then the sound of a door closing.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

You couldn't hold back your tears anymore, not to the sound of his voice growing worried by the second. And you didn't want to do that, didn't want him to be worried about things he couldn't do anything about. He was hours away from home, working. You knew what the sound of your crying would do to him, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to stop. 

"I'm okay, just scared. The sound of the car hitting me was so loud, then someone screamed and an alarm went off somewhere around me. I just…" you pressed a hand to your temple, suddenly aware of the thin layer of blood running down your cheek "Oh, shit"

"yn?" Seungcheol's voice was desperate on the other side of the line "What is it? What happened"

"Miss? We have to go now" he heard someone say

"They're taking me to the hospital," you said, starting to cry again "Just to make sure everything is fine, I think"

"Everything is fine, you're okay," he said, his tone suddenly changing, a little more bright "I'll be home soon, okay? I'll figure something out, but I'll be there as soon as I can. I love you"

Seungcheol felt yet another squeeze in his heart. He should have been home, closer to you. Should have been able to get back sooner than a few hours. The world seemed to be moving slower than usual, the traffic not moving at all. He just wanted to get home, to you. He needed to see, with his own eyes, that you were, in fact, fine. 

It didn't matter to him that you told him you were okay, multiple times, that while at the hospital you kept updating him and reassuring him. Seungcheol knew that sometimes you'd downplay how you felt to not burden others. 

He could tell just from your voice that you were still shaken up, as your words came out almost whispered. 

Seungcheol pushed open the door to the apartment you shared. His eyes scanned the living room, then the kitchen. Only to find you standing over the stove, mindlessly stirring something in a pan.

"yn? baby?”

You had been so lost in your mind, in the memories of the accident, that you didn’t hear him coming in, or the sound of the door. But his voice was enough to bring you back. 

“Cheollie,” you said.

The moment you saw him, you broke down. The entire day, after that first call with him, you had managed to keep it together. Crying once had been enough, as it usually was. But not this time around. You had never been in an accident before, not even close, and the moment kept being replayed in your mind as if you were stuck in this infinite loop of that moment. You remember the sound more than anything else, so loud that made you think that the accident had been far worse than it actually was. 

Seuncgehol held your face, his thumbs pushing away your tears, as he searched your face for any injuries. Only to find the small band-aid over your right eyebrow. It was the light blue one you always kept in the bathroom. 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

His voice was so soft, his touch so gentle.

“Can you just hug me? That’s all I really need right now”

Seungcheol wasted no time in pulling you to him, one of his hands on your waist and the other one at the back of your neck. He planted small kisses on your temple, over the band-aid, on your cheek, on your hair. He wasn’t sure what he could do for you. The worst seemed to have passed, but he knew that you’d still be thinking about it for days.

“Thank you for picking up my call,” you said against his chest “and for coming home. I didn’t want to be by myself today. Sorry I interrupted your meeting though, I know it was important”

He pulled back a little. He had the sweetest smile on his face, his dimples showing as he caressed your head before pressing his lips against yours.

“This is the only place in the world I wanna be at”

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[milkywaydrabbles]

12 and 10 fluff with Alucard 🥺 he is feeling insecure about his scars, and about his own being, considering himself to be a monster, and then reader calms him down

A/N: Me pouting the entire time I wrote this bc I love alucard sm and I hate thinking of him sad lmao. I hope this one is okay and that you like it, I'm not sure if it's my best work ): mwuah

"Hold me" "I wish you could see how I see you" x Alucard

Some days are easy. Some days are nice walks in the park, getting free loaves of freshly baked bread because the village people are so grateful for everything he’s done. Some days are sweet, simple, enjoying the day with the love of his life. Other days?

Other days are hard. Terribly so. 

Today was a hard day. A mental rain cloud had been brewing over Alucard for the last few hours, starting when he saw himself fresh out of the bath, scars seared into his skin from what could be one of the most terrible nights of his life. The traumatic events flashed in his mind, rendering him still with fear. Fear that it’d happen again, with you, fear that he’d be useless in the face of danger if someone came for you, fear that he even had the capacity of thinking you capable of such wickedness. His hands trembled, staring at himself in the mirror, a tear escaping from his eye before turning away from the mirror, dressing quickly and getting on with his duties for the day. He didn’t want to think about it anymore.

But the fear had latched onto him, growing and festering into an ugly cycle of feeling self conscious and not good enough, hating the way the scars look, hating the way the scar his father left behind looked. His body marred with imperfect skin, showing the world his weaknesses. The rain cloud had split open and a thunderstorm loomed over him, retiring much earlier from his chores than intended. He threw himself into his studies in hopes that he would forget the sick feeling in his stomach. 

“Adrian, honey?” Your sweet voice called out to him, and it broke him out of his stupor. He forgot about dinner. A dinner that he insisted on helping you with. And he left you there to finish it all by yourself. Alucard felt miserable. He’d been brewing in his own misery; he had been ignoring not only his duties to the village but to you. You must hate him, you must think he’s so selfish, and lazy, and no good, and-- “Ah, there you are!” You smiled, skipping over to him before noticing how rotten he looked. “Adrian? Are you okay?” You worried, bringing a hand up to his forehead. He tried his best to put on a brave face, shaking his head. “I’m fine, love, don’t worry about me. I’m sorry I lost track of him, I left you to prepare dinner alone.” He stood, ready to put on a facade for the rest of the night, lest you think something awful of him. 

But you knew him better than anyone. 

“Dinner can wait, why don’t we just go to the room for a bit?” He wanted more than anything to stay distracted and not think of the burning his skin felt today. But he knew you wouldn’t let him continue to wallow. Alucard sighed, saying nothing and heading into your shared room. You gave him space, sitting across from him. You didn’t ask any specifics, not needing them. All you needed to know is that Alucard wasn’t feeling his best, and that you would do anything for him. “Adrian, sweet boy...what can I do to help?” Your soft voice nearly ruined him, a broken sob escaping without his consent. The palms of his hands pressed into his eyes, hating more than anything in the world this was happening. Now was not the time to look weak. But he needed you, needed to feel grounded. So he broke. “Can you...can you hold me? Please?” He let out a shaky breath, and silently you moved to him, cradling his head in your hands and bringing him closer to your chest, Your legs wrapped around his torso, trying to cover as much of him as possible with yourself, hoping that whatever was tormenting him would slip away with your presence. 

“I’m sorry--I’m sorry love, I fucked up and I missed dinner. I didn’t mean to, I lost track of time and--” You hushed him mid sentence, rocking him gently back and forth in your arms. “Tell me what’s really going on, this isn’t about dinner.” Alucard steadied himself, releasing a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “I can’t stand looking at myself. Not with these disgusting scars.” Your heart shattered hearing how awful he talked about himself. You cursed the world for ever hurting your sweet boy like this. “Adrian, light of my life, fire in my veins, my handsome man--you’re perfect.” You kissed his temple, running a hand over his hair. “The scars are a reminder that you persevered. That you survived.” You gently reminded him, and another kiss. “I wish you could see how I see you. I love every detail about you, I’m so sorry you’ve endured the life you have, but I am so grateful that it has brought you to me.” Slowly, you untangled yourself from him and sat on your knees before him. You took his hands that had loosened from his eyes, kissing each wrist. You pushed the sleeve of his shirt up, kissing the patches of scar tissue that showed through. You moved to his chest, kissing the scarring that showed through the shirt, and mirrored your actions to his other arm. You let go of his arms, wiping away the remaining tears that stained his cheeks and kissed his eyelids, before pressing your forehead to his. 

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met in my life, inside and out. And that includes the scars. Never doubt yourself, or my love for you. I’ll be here with you, until the ends of the Earth.”

[superectojazzmage]

Really interesting aspect to Amazing Digital Circus is how the performers aren’t actually, like, forced to do anything.

Its made pretty clear that the adventures aren’t compulsory or anything like that. There’s no punishment for not participating, the performers can just wander off to do other stuff instead of taking part in adventures (Jax, Pomni, and Ragatha do exactly that and Zooble tries to do it only to walk into the Gloinks by accident). Ragatha claims that Caine only generates the adventures as a way of helping the performers avoid abstraction and they’re totally optional, while Caine himself notes that the one thing he can’t control in the Circus is people’s own minds and souls. There’s no gun to their head forcing them to partake in these weird, oft-traumatic antics, their free will is not impaired in any way.

But at the same time… what else are they gonna do?

They can’t leave obviously, so their only sources of entertainment or any real life experience for that matter is whatever they have on hand in the Circus and the weird cyber-island it exists on. That would be fine but there doesn’t seem to be a ton of real amenities on the island beyond the Circus, and the Circus is mostly just confusing and terrifying and bizarrely empty for something meant to entertain people. The “rewards” for adventures are just that, seemingly only able to be given to them by Caine as a condition for winning and consisting of stuff like dinners. Presumably they’re allowed personal possessions or hobbies, but what is that going to amount to when there’s nothing but circus equipment and the occasional object you’d see in a children’s rec center?

Any kind of purely adult fun is preempted too, even though the only people in the Circus are adults in their twenties to forties. They can’t go out drinking or engage with media that has anything above an E For Everyone rating. They can’t have sex because of the enforced censorship and kid-friendly nature of the Circus (and their avatars probably aren’t even physically capable of it), and even if they could why would they WANT to have sex with each other considering their avatars’ appearances and their hideously clashing personalities? They’re not even allowed to swear or discuss “adult” topics, so they have to stifle and censor their speech constantly instead of speaking frankly as adults.

(as a side note, I feel like this whole “all ages” element is possibly intended or could be read as a satire on the infantilization of the modern internet by corporations and censorship in general in modern society, but that’s a whole other post)

Literally the only break from the monotony of the Circus is when Caine changes things slightly by introducing an adventure. And even that doesn’t seem to attract much enthusiasm from the performers, since the one adventure we’ve seen so far sucks and seems to just annoy everyone more than anything. Caine tries to give them things they would enjoy, but is clearly limited by both the strict content rules of the Digital World and his own poor understanding of humans; he created the Fake Exit to try and cheer up Kaufmo by giving him what he wanted — an escape from the Circus — only to realize he couldn’t actually let them out that way and that they wouldn’t respond well to thinking they’re getting out only to have their hopes shattered (which is exactly what happens to Pomni).

These annoying, asinine scenarios are the only thing that createsk any sort of change or excitement in the Circus, so of course everyone is going to engage with them because otherwise they’ll be bored out of their skulls. And being bored out of your skull is a sure fire way to push your mind ever closer to abstraction. And maybe even with how dumb they are, the adventures could be fun, but it’s hard to get very enthused about them when they’re the only thing you have, day in, day out. That monotonous feeling of running without moving never goes away.

The reason the Circus breaks people so much and so badly isn’t because of how freaky it is, but how tedious it is. It offers only an illusion of choice while never impairing the performers’ ability to recognize that they DO have a choice and SHOULD be able to do other things because they’re people but they artificially can’t. And that suppression of their ability to have choices and do whatever they want like any human can is what drives them mad.

[lesfir]

Hi! I’m a big fan of Astarion’s character as a whole (Spawn and Ascended) but I don’t really feel comfortable talking about him in a lot of places because of… you know 🫤 but I was wondering if you had any headcanons on his background before vampirism? Theres a few things I’ve seen that kind of imply maybe he wasn’t always a noble, like the ratcatcher line, or his unmaintained grave in a public cemetery, or that he’s really ambitious and strives to not be nothing/a nobody. Or even the fact that he’s a charlatan/rogue. I like to think that his drive for power and wealth comes from him being lower class at one point and he climbed the ladder on his own, that’s why he’s even more bent on having it again. Idk I could go on but I was curious what u think

Hello, thank you for your question! I have poor English, but I will try my best.

> whole (Spawn and Ascended) but I don’t really feel comfortable talking about him in a lot of places because of… you know I know, still this, gross. Poppsychology hysteria is very high. Evil Win is something that is not possible according to Anti. Pure Health or Abuse Tragedy. Although "I can heal\fix someone (narcissistic, immoral, traumatized manipulator) with the power of love, kindness, questionable therapy skills, "I'm proud" leads to the last one if you're so zealous in your health-psychology research. That "I love to hate it"-moment, bully instinct, whatever the means and methods. I'm sure if AA was breathing, Anti would find shit to throw. Absolutely destructive poisonous behavior.

Well, it's a shame this is happening to the fandoms, I hope it goes away in the next five years. The golden recommendation of fandom that I've heard - if you feel shame, discomfort for what you like - you close the door and leave the place, for your own calm and enjoyable time. When things like this happen to a fandom there's clearly something wrong with it, although that's a problem with many fandoms right now, it doesn't negate that it's wrong. All right, enough about that.

You are fortunate to enjoy two.

> but I was wondering if you had any headcanons on his background before vampirism? One of the biggest assholes of Baldur's Gate is my head for "Astarion before Cazador". I think it's a constant. > few things I’ve seen that kind of imply maybe he wasn’t always a noble There are no objective hints for me in the game for that. I can assume that option, but most of my thoughts are that he was always noble. There is one thing about Idle champions, more on that later.

>ratcatcher line No-no. Because that's the line for Original Astarion when he's already become Lord. It's a reference to his slavery to Cazador. That he was forced to eat rats. Not to his mortal life.

I'll add here too, that he was wealthy, with power, and he remembers that. But we're talking before even that and "was it always so?", this angle will also be detailed below.

>his unmaintained grave in a public cemetery He died 200 years ago, so... Maybe he didn't even have people close to him. It could indicate that he didn't have one in his mortal life who would have grieved his death for a long time. Either that someone is lazy or doesn't like cemeteries. I wish we knew more about it, but we have what we have.

>or that he’s really ambitious and strives to not be nothing/a nobody I thought he had ambitions. He is not without ambition. However, I now think his theme is one of pleasure, hedonism. Power and high status is a tool in his hands to live and flourish. The desire for power comes from the very beginning if you refer to the artbook. He wanted more. But why? And for what? So far I see it that he realised it was a power is fun, useful sickle, especially in the field of law, ruling, and without it, well… the chances of dying and not enjoying harvest that world has to offer are higher. I'm sure he was arrogant, proud of everything he had, influence, wealth, including his beauty and his voice. He liked it when his voice sounded loud in the hall. He sure liked being someone important. This was intensified when he became a slave, especially as he was emphasised all the time how small he was. It's a huge wound of the loss of everything.

>Or even the fact that he’s a charlatan/rogue Stephen Rooney loves the rogues in DnD. He said in one interview but I'll drag out the answer even more if I search :,,,,,) That in my opinion is the main reason, he liked writing a trickster. He was needed in the story. Knaves often don't have high status. They want it have by stealth. Being noble for archetype rogue is a pretty fresh concept. Also Noble may not be so important and there is something to aspire to, more, grander.

Charlatan's juicy moment in DnD 5, on which BG3 was written.

Charlatan Bonds «I come from a noble family, and one day I’ll reclaim my lands and title from those who stole them from me».

D&D 5e Player's Handbook Part 1 | Personality and Background 128 p. Charlatan

Now for more details about my point of view. A lot, I got inspired to write so here we go.

It's hard to speculate on Astarion's backstory if you start relying on canon, which I usually prefer to do. ***

And canon was…

The entire first act, some scenes are cut (3-4), others in shortened to 1-2 phrases as the dialogue with animation is removed, but it remains, as well as the approvals and phrases "chicky little pup", all written with the ideas that Astarion was:

Greedy for power, hunger for eternal life, corrupted elite from the Upper City. Who sold the criminals, gurs (they're "savages" in Faerun) to vampires as food, and then sold them into slavery.

Why… It's been so little revealed. Who took away a whole detailed story about how this horrible man became a slave (not perfect either, Cazador suffered for 200 years) and then became a sunshine Lord with the help of my corrupted Tav.

As far as I know, no one could force the developers talk about the main ideas about the story, writing it in an artbook, selling the artbook in a physical edition until now, plot which they might have thought to change all or part, and to give an interview to VICE and YouTube channel (in which he repeats wording from the interview). „A disgraced nobleman who used his position as a local magistrate to serve a vampire clan by feeding them prisoners, he was eventually too corrupt even for them and was effectively sent to serve as the personal slave of a powerful vampire”

Baldur's Gate 3 Features You Didn’t See In The Demo 14:12 „Vampires made him their spawn after catching him selling criminals into slavery when he was a magister. His punishment has lasted hundreds of years and Swen cryptically refers to something written on his back that when you finally see it, you'll be, and I quote, "oh f**k!” I wrote more about it here. It was a hook for the players. Which has now become a reason not to trust Larian at all. In my opinion it was decided to leave unrevealed in order to make the product more mass-market or Larian's team didn't have enough time.  

Larian also couldn't decide which character was Astarion. - Noble - EA - Courtesan - EA-time Charcter Sheet - Charlatan - Release

Or does it combine everything together? Courtesan is no-no for me, very. Could this be a reference to his slavery when he seduced people? When thinking of courtesans, it is rather presented as a forced choice: either poverty or this. Or fully a choice. For example, Cherie 2009. Where courtesans did make a lot of profit themselves, money not only to survive, but to live very luxuriously. In Astarion's case, it was simply slavery, of any kind or manner. Well, about the victims he could have knocked them out in a dark alley, or holding a knife to their ribs and brought them in. The explanation that Cazador made it such a torture for him to have sex doesn't convince me much. + Using Cazador to explain everything is meme, no plot, lacks complexity and the player's personal assumptions, impressions and experiences (grounded in the knowledge of psychology especially) don't add to it to the actual game. Music and acting unfortunately too. Weak scripts and cut content affects. So the "courtesan" as a reference to his slavery seems to me kind of wonky. If this was before Cazador, meh. There's a movie called "Dangerous Beauty", 1998. I don't remember it well, but I remember the woman had a choice of work, convent or Courtesan due to poverty. Did he really not want to work so badly? :,) Or was he really that poor and was lucky enough to get into a prestigious brothel, and further up the hierarchical ladder, because of need. (no, I don't like it) I don't think Astarion was forced to do that and he was so poor. I think it might have been a way to gain power. He could have just been from an impoverished noble family (so he didn't know how to work and hated it) and decided that the way of his beauty is more efficient. He got money and influence and became a magistrate. I don't like the idea still.

I can live with the word if it is used with the historical context of the Middle Ages.

Given how entrenched the word has become in the modern day, I don't think it could have been with this context.   But by the way fits perfectly with noble, charlatan and magistrate.

"In European feudal society, the court was the centre of government as well as the residence of the monarch, and social and political life were often completely mixed together. Prior to the Renaissance, courtesans served to convey information to visiting dignitaries, when servants could not be trusted".

(oh and the point that he doesn't trust anyone, he's seen how much betrayal there is in high society. In this case, Astarion could also seek influence through seduction, but it was his desire and no longer even out of need or habit. It could even be one of libertine entertainment, that's still profitable)

I will always prefer noble or charlatan. Charlatan fits, including on DnD.

Idle champions of the forgotten realms.

Among the items Astarion has are "Forged Potents of Nobility". But also the portrait of the Cazador, the Vampire Rapier. It could be an Easter egg out of context with other items, hint that he wasn't noble right away. He could, as Magistrate, engage in paper forgery and sell. And, wasn't Astarion hunting in the Upper City, maybe he had to have noble documents to get into some places. But since he was outside the law of mortals, like a vanishing shadow, he had forged papers. Yes, while I was writing this Astarion noble became canon again.

The Dungeons & Dragons 50th Anniversary Superdrop Post here It was an ad somewhere on instagram. You can see the ‘sound’ icon at the bottom, identical to Instagram. I tried to find it on the official dnd instagrams, but no results. Need THIS ALL very much. He was probably changed to charlatan because he has no status at the moment. Although for games, the archetype ‘noble’ is still connected to the attitude towards the world around you. ‘I'm better,’ striving for luxury, squeamishness, arrogance. So he behaved like that, but now he doesn't have that status and power - so the game decided to more correctly call him a charlatan who had his nobility taken away from him, like in the DnD5 book. Also he acted like a charlatan (most likely) when he was with the magistrate, so that point fits as well. Let's clap for Astarion, who is noble again. 💅✨👑 Clap harder because he do nothing for it, at all.

His age has also been changed several times, which is still a mistake in the game script and on the gravestone. In my humble opinion. - 350 - Death at 150 (Idle champions of the forgotten realms, first time) - 239 - Death at 39 (229 - 268 DR) (game BG3) - 263 - Death at 63 (Idle champions of the forgotten realms, after change) I'm no DnD expert so you're reading what I found and checked while I was writing, hopefully it will be ok here. Speaking of consciousness Being in the society of other races that live, grow up and die faster, elves adapt to this life and are already considered adults. There was a good example to explain: it's like a rather infantile 18 year person who already understands everything. Has rights and obligations before the law, if they live in a society other than elves they a full-fledged adult member of society. But emotionally tends to be more naively, maximalism, impulsively, intense.

After turning into a vampire, he didn't age, that's the point. How Cazador cut his back, his skin unrecovered? Probably the holy water, spell. How old is the half elf Shadowheart? About 40, she looks 25 - half elves age faster than higher elves. Astarion is a high elf how could he age faster than Shadowheart at 39 years - no way. Halsin is 350, he's a wood elf, but in DnD5, high elves and wood elves don't have such of the aging body difference. He looks older than Astarion by I don't know, like 10 years? When do High Elves get their first wrinkles? (sorry Astarion) Alright, in Larian's homebrew in BG3? Considering Shadowheart, Halsin and lil wrinkles Astarion, Idle champions was right here about 150 for a high elf, but 63 can be tolerated. *** So we have an extremely large space for headcanons about his backstory.

There's an option headcanon his backstory as a funny goofy hedonist. Possibly who could do evil things to the poor, vagabonds, “barbarians”. In canon we have one moment in Act 1 where Astarion tells his story with the Gurs. “They didn't like the decision I made” - 99% of the time that decision was unfair. I'm sure he was prejudiced before the attack. I don't think he tried to judge fairly, justly and mercifully those he considered ‘trouble makers’ and ‘barbarians’.

Also we have space for headcanons of how evil he was. (I think though he was a goofy hedonist at any way). Given the latest news with noble, I think he's been one since birth. Well, I'll keep the part where I little speculate about how he could have been non-noble, at the very beginning. And little about how writing his attitude towards the world (very noble).

I definitely had thoughts that he tried really hard to be on top because he was poor once. Though he likes skillful thieves, he has quite a bit of disdain for the poor, vagabonds, wretched, plebs etc. This incidentally reveals his status-issue, he became in that low status he hated. I'll give a few examples that can be shown glimpse hints of his past as a magistrate. Astarion: I've watched urchins freeze to death on the street. It looks peaceful - just like falling asleep.

The concept that he was “urchins” too, and hated it - possible, wanted nothing to do with this position, becoming noble he completely separated himself from this world. But no, I don't think so, I'm not close to that idea. I feel the mood that he was always noble, how mutch rich and influential? - is already that moment where I'm considering different options. Yenna approaches the camp to ask if they can stay.

Astarion: Absolutely not. We've hit our quota for mangy strays.

Minthara and Laezel react in a similar mood. Astarion, though, emphasises some aspect of poverty. Mangy stray. These are just few examples, there are more, approvals, hints.

There's also a scene about “Justice”. Which in my opinion is a hook to his past and the idea of his character, story. Narrator: A true champion knows justice and eliminates those who stand in its way. Restore the balance of justice. Wyll: Justice. No pardon without repentance, and no penalty without mercy. Wyll: The right path often lies between the extremes. Astarion: Mercy? Please - justice should be a harsh lesson. All the better to deter the next vagabond.

Player: I'm with Astarion here. Off with every criminal's head, I say. Wyll: If such violence is truly justice, then let it never again be called a virtue. ___ I think Stephen Rooney had a hand in this scene. This theme of violence, justice, about the dark side of humanity. Harshness can bring justice. It can become violence. Can become so corrupted and vicious that it ceases to be justice. (or has it always been a side that's always been kept quiet...) Can be in balance. Astarion hardly shares Wyll's point of view. Not to mention his history with vagabonds. The thing is... No one would care about mercy if a rabble of vagrants attacked your home. Wouldn't you regret trying to keep things in balance? The crowd doesn't care who was an honest man and who wasn't - everyone is a target. In that time and place (the Middle Ages) Astarion has a point.

Wyll literally said right, good things. Astarion: Mercy? Please~ It is XD yeah.

Astarion has the freakiest moral scales, always. In reality, he cares little about justice. He has an opinion about it. But it will still be "good, as long as it doesn't hurt me". If justice points its sword at him, he'll turn things around so it doesn't have to be that way. Will be proud if it's successful. He's not a wise character, even if he has a point in his story where the gray morality. I paid a little attention to it here. It's amazing how his character brings fun to the dark side, luring down the path of vice. Astarion has a picture of the world according to “evil” in DnD, “the strong survive, the weak die”, this picture is similar to Laezel and Minthara. But Astarion has no ideas or what he serves - his desires are the guideline. One thing is clear to me - he likes to live a pleasurable life, he will protect it and keep it in any way he can.

I'm also thinking… Astarion can ridicule and flips any reasoning about morality, principles, rightness, he doesn't really care, the main thing is to achieve whatever he wants. That's what he did when he was a magistrate.

So I'm closer to the idea that he was the golden boy.

Speaking of the Magistrate. One - something made him choose a good career about money and power. Perhaps something unpleasant, tragic. Two - variant he just realized by watching society that this is what you should strive. Reason was very petty, like he felt gOLd embroidered gloves were worth quite a lot. He didn't like the thought of counting gold. And his personality. It's useful and fun. Wearing poor or even average clothes and not eating delicious food - sucks. Three is a combination Lately we have been looking for reasons in the actions of the villain, psychological, subtle reasons - it was not bad, as long as it comes to the point that the more reasons the less he is a villain and just a “victim of circumstances”, it is already a tired concept for me. It's much more interesting when the reasons are there, but there is a distinct decision by the individual, where he clearly understands what and how would be right, but chooses wrongly. Astarion chooses the immoral path, he prefers it that way.

Why the Magistrate and not, shall we say, a merchant, a shipbuilder. Because the magistrate can tax everyone. To neatly circumvent the law, you have to know perfectly well how it works. :D Interesting, he loves Baldur's Gate, he's fascinated that this city is so great, a city of opportunity, he said. When he becomes Lord, he wants to rule it, or rather will do so again, in a higher status, a tiny pause of 200 years. He loves the heartbeat of this city.

There are other options, but here's how Astarion sees the city, a heart to bite into. Hot. In talking to the dead "that he was going to do as Lord" - rule and be free. Dead men don't lie. He wants to rule.

Could this be a reference to raw ambition and a desire to rule that he's had in the past? Probably. However, he said that there are many other cities in the world, perhaps this is a trick for Wyll.

But he could really easily leave the city with Tav\DU. So even ruling the city isn't his main idea. It's enjoyable, but there are other fun things too. The idea was to turn into a bat, evidently. And do:

Success. One more a constant thought: The choice to become a Magistrate was his willful decision. Astarion was looking for more power and a place at the ruler of the city. Only later did he find out it was boring quite a bit XD But the perspective of the place and what it gave and could give was very pleasing to him.

Speaking of family. For the full picture, it's worth looking at something I haven't done yet - how the High Elves settle into cities where races that live faster, and what that means for the elf family. There are options: either he had a family or barely had one. There are several other branches from that, the family's attitude towards him, what happened to them.

• If there was a family

A respectable family, who easily got everything he wanted. Probably started demanding too much. (Mommy may I?) I headcanon that his family may have been impoverished because of their honesty and lack of ambition. But not much, they still had status. Yet Astarion was affected, “money can run out, it's amazing”. It may have sparked his interest in power.

★ Astarion was adored by his parents.

He was cared for and protected. Perhaps nurturing in him an attitude towards other people, especially the poor "I'm better, my family is better, others don't matter". By guarding him, they could say: "Don't think of running outside the upper city, it's all muck". With a family like that not caring for the grave, I can explain it this way: - His parents was killed before he died. Maybe criminals, maybe a fire. He was left alone. - His parents died after he died. - His parents were so heartbroken that they left Baldur's Gate forever

☆ The other option is his parents didn't really care.

There are so many ways in which that could be. I prefer that they were nobles who disappeared at balls, loved their son, but did not know how to care and teach him, all this was done by servants and his friends such as children of noble. Here heartbreak works too and leaving town. They thought they had plenty of time...

○ If Astarion had no family.

Astarion still had status and probably a guardian who almost didn't raise Astarion. Astarion had his looks, money, and the society of the golden youth. (Corrupt nobility). I pay less attention to this option, but I like it just as much. It's a simple option, but that's the point. As in the case of the family that didn't care, Astarion raised himself, among children who had everything.

Speaking of personality. I also believe that Astarion has an inner desire to reach for "debauchery and darkness". Which is consistent with the idea – dark&fun. It's his core to be himself. As an example, he would steal when he had a lot of money, just for fun to cheat some clunky merchant and watch him red-faced. quite the rogue He was very mischievous. As he got older, his mischief became... well decadence level.

I think I've written a lot.

That's not all I think about this. But it's almost all I've found words for at the moment. The important thing is that my thoughts may change in some details. Especially since we're going to have a new artbook and what will Larian write in it? That could affect it, too. I've outlined the constants and the things I like about this story.

Thank you for your attention All the best.

[bow-of-aros]

Day Fifteen: Are You Ticklish?

Summary: It's Ted's birthday and nobody seems to give a damn as per usual. All he wants is to go home and forget that today ever happened.

Seems like his friends have other plans.

-

Hey folks! This is my very self-indulgent birthday fic bc it's my birthday and I can do whatever the hell I want!! It's my longest fic this month and I'm very proud of it, so enjoy <33

Also, to the person that put in the request for this day, I hope that you in particular enjoy the most!

-

Ted had never had the best experience with birthdays.

Growing up, nobody had really bothered to give half of a shit about him, and it hasn’t exactly changed much since then. Sure, Pete would text him and try to rope him into doing something if he was home, and at one point, there had been Jenny, but that hadn’t exactly worked out.

So when Ted walks into work and is greeted with the usual half-hearted enthusiasm—which is definitely an upgrade from the outright disdain from before The Incident—Ted just sighs and accepts that it’s gonna be another shitty birthday.

The Incident. Nobody’s really quite sure what happened. In fact, they all tried to not think about it as much as physically possible.

Ted’s just grateful that they all seemed to form some sort of trauma bond. Everyone was a bit more tolerant of his antics, sometimes they even smiled at his jokes and references instead of just shaking their heads and ignoring him.

Paul will actually invite him to Beanie’s every once in a while and listen while Ted brags about his genius little brother with something that almost looks like fondness on his face.

Bill doesn’t go see musicals anymore, but he’ll ask Ted if he wants to watch a new movie that’s come out without looking like he’d rather do anything else.

Charlotte got a divorce from Sam and asked Ted to have some space while she sorted out her life and, for once in his life, he respected her wishes and kept his distance. She looked more relaxed around the office and Ted felt like he’d found a real friend in her, like he could just talk to her with only a slight fear of judgment.

And he definitely hadn't set his sights on a beige-wearing, musical-hating coworker of his.

Definitely.

But all of this didn’t mean that they actually liked him. Ted wasn’t stupid enough to think that just because some horrible, incredibly traumatizing thing happened to all of them that they would suddenly start actually enjoying the company of their disgusting sleazeball coworker.

But still, Ted would take what he could get, and he’d actually started looking forward to coming to work, even if he threw up a little in his mouth at the thought.

He couldn’t help but be disappointed when he didn’t even get so much as a ‘Happy birthday’ though. Like, sure, they weren’t exactly best buds, but the bar really isn’t set that high!

As the day goes on, Ted notices that his frien—coworkers are avoiding him more often than was usual. It was almost like they were slipping back into their pre-Incident dynamic. Conversations would stop the second he stepped in the room, attempts at jokes fell flat and were only met with a roll of the eyes, and Ted found himself falling back into his old role in response.

He curled in on himself more before trying to project the false bravado that had once felt like a second skin to him. His any attention is good attention mindset was back in full swing, praying that something he did would get anyone to just talk to him!

Thankfully, that only lasted for a little while before he realized that he didn’t want to be that Ted anymore, and wasn’t that a revelation to examine literally never.

By the end of the day, Ted was exhausted. Mr. Davidson had asked him to stay a few minutes late to help him with some last-minute filing, which could not have been that important but hey, he had nothing better to be doing.

He’d spent a solid few hours picking through his memory to try and figure out if he’d done anything extra repulsive within the past few days and came up empty-handed.

Paul had even gone home early, also known as not thirty minutes late, which he never did and Ted was worried enough—and desperate enough— that he’d sent a u gud? To which he’d received a perfectly punctuated Yeah. Thanks, Ted.

Was it sad that those three words had made him feel better than anything else that day? Definitely.

Was Ted going to take anything he could get? Abso-fucking-lutely.

As he pulled into his driveway, all he could think about was ordering some shitty takeout, drinking some shitty beer, and pretending that he didn’t exist until this shitty day was over. Hopefully, everything would go back to normal tomorrow, and Ted could just chalk today up to his birthday curse.

The key slipped into the door and it turned after the required two seconds of trying to jimmy it open.

As his hand fumbled for the light he called out, “Hey Pete! I’m home! Fair warning to finish anything up before I—OH HOLY FUCK!”

The light flipped on, revealing a very brightly decorated living room and Paul, Bill, and Charlotte gleefully yelling, “SURPRISE!”

Silence rang for a moment.

Two.

“Ted? Are you… Crying?”

At Charlotte’s question Ted whipped around and very unsubtly scrubbed at his eyes as he said, “No! It’s hay fever season! I just have, uh,” He sniffled, damn it, “I just have really bad allergies.”

He turned back just in time to catch an armful of knitted sweater and curly hair.

“I’m sorry!” She said, somehow managing to be the one holding him despite the fact that he had a foot on her at least, “I told them that a surprise party was a bad idea! But they were so set on it and I’m so bad at keeping secrets! And oh my God we were so mean to you today!”

Charlotte pulled away to look him in the eye, “Can you forgive us? Please?”

Honestly, Ted had forgiven them the second he learned that they all hadn’t gone back to not-so-secretly hating them.

And he’d never really been able to say no to Charlotte.

“Alright. I guess I can forgive you.”

She let out an ear-piercing shriek before throwing herself back at him and Ted found himself sinking into the affection.

A warm body encompassed him from behind as Bill joined the hug and, fuck, Ted couldn’t burst into tears again and ruin the image he’d been carefully cultivating for the past however many years.

“Yeah, man. We were kinda shitty today. Sure it was all to keep the party hidden but that’s not an excuse. Are you alright?”

They are not making this easy on him.

“Yeah!” Oh, that was way too high-pitched. Let’s try that one again.

“Yeah.” Much better, “I definitely wasn’t worried that I’d done something wrong and you guys all hated me again and I’d fucked up the only actual friendships I’ve had since I was a kid or anything.”

…Yikes. Great save, Spankoffski.

Ted felt an arm wind its way around his waist, giving him an awkward side hug and holy shit. Paul, Mr. If-you-come-within-two-feet-of-me-I-will-dissolve-out-of-pure-social-discomfort, was hugging Ted.

“Look, Ted,” said Paul in the voice of someone not well-versed in the art of reassurance which, hey, neither is Ted, “Sure, you used to be a disgusting sleazeball that we all tried to avoid.”

“But,” He raised his voice to be heard over Charlotte and Bill’s groaning, “You’ve changed. And we can see that you’ve put actual effort into changing. We honest to God like you Ted, you’re our friend! Hell, would we have done all this for you if you weren’t?”

Paul gestured at the room and Ted looked at the balloons scattered around, at the cake on the table and the three wrapped presents sitting on the couch.

Huh.

“No,” Ted said slowly, still trying to wrap his head around the concept, “You definitely wouldn’t.”

“Exactly! Now, why don’t you say we— What was that?”

The squeeze Paul had given to his side that Ted was sure was supposed to be reassuring had the unfortunate side effect of making Ted nearly jump out of his own damn skin. Of course, it was just his luck that the Spankoffski charm had come with a large dose of the Spankoffski super-fucking-ticklish.

“Nothing!”

He could feel Charlotte grinning against his chest as Bill tightened his hold, effectively eliminating all possible escape routes.

“That didn’t sound like nothing,” Charlotte said, mischief colouring her voice, “You should try that again, Paul! See if we can give Ted some good old-fashioned birthday cheer!”

At that, Ted actually started to put up a fight, if pretty half-assed.

“No! I’m already cheerful so that’s not necessARY— Pahahahaul nononono shihihihit!”

Laughter tumbled from his lips, echoed by the people surrounding him as he tried and failed to escape.

Paul’s voice rose above the noise in utter disbelief, “Are you telling me that you, the guy who can’t get enough of bugging everyone else, are ticklish?! We could have been using this against you for years!”

“No I’m nohohohot!”

Ted was going to go crazy. Paul’s hand had moved up to his ribs and was now prodding at the bones and wiggling between them, making Ted’s laughter pitch up into childlike giggles much to the delight of his tormentors.

“Are you suuurrrreee?” Charlotte asked, giving a quick scribble to his spine and laughing ecstatically at the snort that elicited.

“Yeah, Ted!” Bill chimed in, “You seem pretty ticklish to me! But, if you’re not, then you won’t mind if we stay here a little longer. It is your birthday, after all, gotta make sure that you feel loved and appreciated!”

Paul leaned in close enough that Ted was grateful that the red in his cheeks could be explained away as he said, “All you have to do to make this stop is just admit that you’re ticklish. Is that really so hard?”

He lightened his touch enough to let Ted catch his breath a bit and give him a chance to tap out if he wanted to.

But Ted Spankoffski is a man of honour and dignity and he WILL NOT GIVE IN!

“Go fuhuhuck yourself, Paul!”

Any fire in his words was snuffed out by the lingering giggles, but Paul still gasped, playfully affronted in a way that Ted’s never seen, but knows can’t be good.

“Well,” Paul says simply, “You asked for it.”

And Ted was thrown back into laughter as Paul’s hands dug back into his ribs, aided by the occasional pokes and scribbles from Bill and Charlotte who seemed mostly content to hold him in place and let Paul do all the work.

“PAUL!” Paul had vibrated his hand into the soft space just below Ted’s lowest ribs and, yeah, this is how he was going to die, “Paulpaulpaul plehehehease! I’ll sahahay it! I cahahahan’t!”

“You can’t say it?” Oh that little shit, “I’m sure I can help you out there.”

“No! I’m ticklish! I’m tihihihihicklish! Now please let me gohohohoho!”

With that proclamation of defeat, they all unwound themselves from around Ted, and he did his best to not miss the warm pressure as they guided him to his ratty old couch, unstable legs nearly giving out on him before he collapsed on the worn cushions.

As he sat there catching his breath while Paul settled down next to him and Bill and Charlotte started fiddling with the candles on his cake, a thought suddenly occurred to him.

“How the fuck did you guys get into my apartment?”

They all laughed as Paul said, “Peter gave me his key. Told us to not fuck this up.” His voice slid into something a little more fond, “You’ve got a good kid on your hands, Ted.”

“Yeah,” Ted said, the grin on his face more than just the remnants of his ordeal, “I really do.”

Suddenly, Bill and Charlotte were bringing the cake towards him in all its fiery glory.

“Alright sleazeball, make a wish.”

Normally, Ted would hate being called that by someone other than himself, but Charlotte said it with such fondness that he really couldn’t bring himself to mind.

He thinks for a moment, then takes in a big breath and blows out all the candles in one fell swoop.

After the cheering died down, Bill asked, “What did you wish for?”

Ted just gave him his signature grin and said, “I can’t tell you, Billy. It wouldn’t come true!”

The rest of the day flew by, filled with laughter and games and only a few drinks. Looks like the birthday curse is broken, because this one had been pretty damn perfect.

I wish that all of my birthdays could be the same as this one, minus the first half, surrounded by my friends who just want to see me smile.

[darling-i-read-it]

Not Fun Dreams

Dalton Lambert x fem!prophet(esc)!reader

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: insidious 5 spoilers, some angst, canon level events/violence (descriptions of the readers visions as violence and never being good), shared trauma, a lot of unedited fic lol 

Author’s Note: This ended up a LITTLE LONG good lord lol. I just kept going! I hope you enjoy love, it ended up being a little less angst then I wanted to have some sort of preunderstood relationship. ALSO i made up the art school dalton goes too because I couldnt’ find the name or remember if it was mentioned. When will this movie be available to watch whenever i want smh. Anyway, enjoy!

Requested: by anon, your dalton fics were amazing and if you’re still in the mood to write for him i got an idea! dalton with a prophet esque reader. maybe not full out but maybe they have dreams or in certain places they can see what will happen there but doesn’t get the full event ( mostly negative/horrific things because this is the insidious universe and nobody can have nothing). id imagine they’d be more reclusive than dalton because even though they’re both obviously very traumatized reader constantly has to see these horrific things and not know how to stop them. knowing possibly from a young age where you and the people you love will die. the trauma bonding. the protectiveness. imagine the drama if she knew the whole time he could astral project and didn’t tell him, like being childhood friends and going to the same college as you saw something in a dream (one of the dorm scenes) and are trying to prevent it. i’m an angst girlie through and through and this movie made me worst. please don’t feel pressured to write at all, and i hope you have a great day/night! 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

When you were a kid it was much more simple. It made far more sense to you when your imagination was stretched as far as it could go. It was clouded by the guise of childhood, never knowing what was supposed to happen and what wasn’t. You figured that when you went to sleep and pictures flipped in your head piercing like a migraine, everything was normal. Your parents told you it was just dreams, even when the dreams started to get darker. You saw flashes of people’s faces, drenched in fear as they faced something unknown. The nightmares got worse. You insisted they weren’t nightmares. Children dealt with weird things all the time. 

It helped when the boy next door flew away in his sleep. 

Everyone must have these little gifts then right? All the children had a perk that slightly scared them, one they told their friends about that their parents didn’t pay much attention to. 

You’ll never forget the day Dalton moved. He left the house he had grown up in so that his parents could move somewhere bigger, somewhere to raise the new baby. You remember his little face, matching yours. You had never had a friend you cared for so much. It felt like the world could be taken on when you were with Dalton. 

“Are you sure you have to go?” you asked, quietly. You knew the answer to the question, even then. You had had an awful nightmare the night before. You had seen flashes of Dalton in bed, tubes surrounding him, IV’s in his arm. 

“My mom says so,” he muttered. You were hunched together in the corner of his house. Now empty, it seemed much larger. You didn’t like being in places that seemed to be experiencing change. You saw enough change. 

“But I’m worried,” you whispered. “Something might happen to you in the new house.” Your voice was hushed. Even then, you knew it was no use in telling his parents. No one would believe you. But you had to warn him because if anyone trusted you, it was Dalton. 

“Maybe it’s just another one of your not fun dreams,” he said quietly. He had gotten used to protecting you from them. You were often shaky when you woke up. He had seen it after a sleepover, cold sweats dripping down your petrified face. “Not one that would come true.”

You had known the lady down the street would trip down the stairs and die three weeks prior. But no one cared to check with the little girl who had silly prophetic dreams. 

“But what if it isn’t.” You pouted, a genuine pout. Dalton put his hand on yours, in a way only children could do. The most innocent of gestures. A sign of good faith. 

“I’ll be okay.” Even then he didn’t believe his words. He had been wandering further and further out in his dreams. You told him to stop, that it scared you. He insisted they were nothing like your dreams. His weren’t real. 

“You ready to go guys?” Josh Lambert asked. He walked up behind you, carrying a book at his side. 

“You’ll call right?” you asked quickly, suddenly overcome by emotion. Dalton nodded eagerly. 

“We’ve got your number, don’t worry,” Josh assured you. “We won’t be that far, right Dalton? Just down the road.” Dalton wanted to disagree but he didn’t. He just nodded, not ready for you to leave his house. Not ready to leave it himself. 

“I’ll call everyday,” Dalton promised. 

After a couple weeks he stopped calling. Your parents wouldn’t tell you why. Just that he couldn’t come to the phone. You could see him in your dreams, desperately lost and you had no way of helping him.

-

You woke up with a start. 

As you grew up the dreams started to become less violent. They were always violent in nature but sometimes you could wake up and not feel panicked. You looked at your bedside table, the orange bottles staring back at you. Some were for panic attacks, some were for general anxiety, some to help you sleep. You debated taking one, wondering if you could stick it out for the day. The thought was quickly dismissed. 

You had dreamt of Dalton. 

You hadn’t dreamt of Dalton since you were a kid, since you lost touch. The memory of it became so blurry over time. There was no way you could have blamed him for it. In hindsight you blame your parents and the cycle of time. You went to different schools and there was no reason to stay in touch because you couldn’t ever see each other. 

You grabbed your phone off the side of your bed. You hadn’t seen much. 

Dalton. Older, taller, handsomer. A full man now, though you weren’t sure why you were surprised. A school, the name of the school just barely on the tip of your tongue. You wrote down everything you remembered furiously. The feeling of dread. A familiar creeping of darkness that you couldn’t quite place. Your dreams were sporadic. Whatever you had dreamt of could still be months out. 

You got out of bed and walked down the hallway. You were packing for school yourself, eager to leave by the end of the week. The car was almost packed with most of your things. 

You reached for your parents phone book. They kept it beside the fridge, even though it was ancient and most of the numbers were outdated. You had given them grief about it before. Everyone had numbers saved to their phones now, what was the point of a phone book?

You ate your words as you flipped through the pages, looking for Lambert. Sure enough, both Renai and Josh were separately listed. You reached for your phone, trying Renai first. 

It rang for a while, leading you to believe the number might’ve been wrong. Then there was an answer and a kind voice spoke on the other end. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi! Is this Renai Lambert?” 

“This is her. Who is this?” 

“Hi Mrs. Lambert! This is kind of weird but my name is Y/N. I used to be friends with Dalton when we were kids?” There was a beat of silence and then a laugh, one you remembered well. You had always liked Renai. She was endlessly kind, always offering you lemonade when you came around. You could still hear her playing songs on the piano while you and Dalton ran around their house. 

“Y/N! Oh goodness, it’s been a while hasn’t it? Why are you calling now?” You smiled, happy she remembered you. 

“I just randomly dreamt of Dalton last night and hadn’t seen him in years. I was wondering if he still lived with you or if I could talk to him?” 

“For sure! Gimme one second.” She moved away. You could hear a muffled call for Dalton. The phone returned to her ear. “How have you been?” 

“I’ve been good! I’m going to art school at the end of the month,” you offered. 

“Really? So is Dalton! Oh, here he is!” There was a moment as the phone was passed along. You cleared your throat. 

“Hello?” 

“Dalton?” There was another beat of silence. You thought maybe he didn’t remember you, which would be slightly awkward. You would have to re-explain everything before he would even believe a word that came out of your mouth. Then he spoke. 

“Y/N?” You let out a breath of relief. 

“Yeah.” He scoffed and you could picture him shaking his head in disbelief. 

“What’s up? Are you okay?” Still the same protective boy he had been when you were kids. 

“I had a dream about you last night and I wanted to call, see if you were okay.” Another moment of silence. You wondered if Renai had left the room.

“A not fun dream?” he asked quietly. You nodded, looking down. 

“Yeah.” You could hear Renai in the background. 

“She’s going to art school too.” 

“Really? Where are you going?” 

“Western. Not far from home, at least, where home used to be.” 

“Me too,” he breathed. “Who would’ve thought?” You bit the inside of your cheek, wondering what it would be like to be back with Dalton again. You had never felt so understood like when you were with him. 

“When do you leave? We should meet up for lunch.”

-

Dalton Lambert had gotten tall. You noticed that first when you saw him. He stepped right out of your dreams and onto his dorm room flooring. You had just missed Josh who had eagerly scurried away. Your parents had left you too. Now you and Dalton were finally in a place where you could hang out away from adults, which was a weird feeling when you were together. 

He had texted you his room number and you knocked on the door. When it opened, he hugged you. It wasn’t awkward or weird. In fact, it felt like you had finally come home. 

“How are you?” you asked. 

“I’m okay,” he promised. He ushered you in. “I’d be better if you told me what your dream was about.” You shook your head. 

“It was just you being here.” 

“You have good dreams now?” You shook your head. 

“That’s the whole thing.” He gestured for you to sit at his desk or at the empty bed beside his. You sat down on his bed anyway, putting your feet up to your chest like you were a child. “I don’t. But I remember feeling bad when I woke up, like something was coming.” You looked over at him. “How are you? How are your dreams?”

He paused for a moment, like he was glitching or buffering. You tilted your head. 

“Dalton?”

“My dreams are fine,” he answered finally. “Not nearly as interesting as yours.” You nodded slowly. That wasn’t exactly the answer you were expecting to get but you trusted him to open up when he was ready. “So do you think somethings gonna happen?” 

“I don’t know. I think I’ll know more later,” you promised, though you only half believed it.

“The last time you dreamt about me I went into my coma,” he said quietly, cautiously. He opened up to you quickly, knowing what it was like to be friends with you when you were a kid. There was something so special about being known before you even knew yourself. 

“I know. That’s why I found my parents' phonebook and called your mom.” 

“At least you’ll be closer this time around,” he suggested. “You’re welcome to hit me in the head if I start drifting off when I’m not supposed to.” You laughed gently. 

“Good to know.” You looked up at his wall. He had started to put drawings up. His mom was in the one above his pillow, at her piano. She looked just like you remembered her. “How is she?” you asked. Your eyes scanned the room. “Oh man, how is Foster? Cali?” 

“Good, good, they’re all good,” he promised, laughing a bit. “My parents got divorced a couple years ago. My dad is slightly losing it.” 

“As all dads do.” Your eyes scanned the wall. There was a picture of his brother. Another of his grandmother, who you only met every once in a while. Above her was a picture you recognized. It was you. You when you were a kid, in a room you no longer remembered. “Is that me?” He cleared his throat. 

“Your call had me looking through pictures.” You glanced at him, smiling a bit. 

“I loved your house so much. It was like a second home to me.”

“It was a first home to me.” You rolled your eyes. 

“We have so much to catch up on. Tell me everything. I have nowhere to be.”

-

Dalton’s room became a second one to you. It was serendipitous, moving from swapping houses to swapping dorm rooms. The transition felt comfortable and seamless. His roommate Chris moved out because she was a girl so you mostly got the room to yourselves. 

A couple weeks in, he started to have nightmares. Nights where you recognized the look on his face when he woke up. It was the same look he had after he had wandered too far, daring you to go with him. When he woke up he looked just like a kid still. Big wide eyes, confused. 

You sat on the spare bed. Dalton had fallen asleep half an hour before but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. There was nothing wrong with just falling asleep there. You had done it before and you would do it again, waking up to his alarm for his early class. 

You laid your head down on the pillow, scrolling on your phone. The night had fallen, indicating that you should let yourself drift off into sleep. You raised your head a bit, wondering if you could easily find one of Dalton’s shirts to wear to sleep instead of your uncomfortable day one. You should’ve asked him before he fell asleep. You stood up lazily, rubbing your eyes. The room was only illuminated by the nightlight at Dalton’s side. He had fallen asleep with a pencil still in his hand, his sketchbook still out on his side.

You groggily slipped the pencil out of his fingers, putting it on the desk. You grabbed his sketchbook, looking at what he was looking at. It was still just lines on a paper, soon to be something beautiful. You put it aside. You were about to turn around when he woke up with a start. 

He lifted his head completely, almost ramming into you. You jumped, startled. 

“Woah!” you exclaimed. He was breathing heavily. He looked up at you, eyes wide. You met his gaze, almost positive what had just happened. “Did you wander off?” 

“What?” 

“In your sleep. Did you project?” He was silent for a moment, still trying to catch up on whatever it was going on in his head. He didn’t say anything for a second, staring at you with bewildered eyes. “Dalton?” 

He finally opened his eyes up to speak but was cut off by a loud screeching. You put your hands over your ears, wincing. The fire alarm was going off. Dalton scrambled out of bed, looking at the door. He rushed forward, pushing it open. 

Down the hall, all the other students were leaving their beds. Most were still muddled with sleep, wearing nothing but their pajamas. You peeked your head out behind him. He grabbed your arm and started to bring you down the hallway to the stairs. It was too tight for everyone so his grip was iron tight, weaving through the confusion. You pushed through the door to the stairs, moving with the herd down. You glanced back, trying to find the source of the confusion. 

You emerged outside into the night. It was freezing. The group dispersed into the courtyard, everyone looking back to the building you had just left. You brushed against Dalton behind you, who had finally let go of your arm. You couldn’t see anything in the building, nothing to indicate a reason everyone was leaving. 

“Do you see anything?” you asked him. He shook his head. 

“No.” You shivered, suddenly very aware of how cold it was. 

“Maybe it was a drill,” you suggested. He nodded slowly, not wanting to argue as his eyes scanned the building. 

Someone was yelling something in a megaphone you couldn’t make out. You tried to find the source of the voice to no avail. 

“What are they saying?” 

“False alarm,” he said, like it wasn’t a question. You furrowed your brows. 

“How can you hear that?” 

“I pulled it,” he said, finally. You turned around to look at him. 

“How? You were right there with me the whole time.” 

“I did it in my sleep.”

“If you knew it was a false alarm, why did we come out here?” 

“Because I wasn’t sure.” His voice sounded far away. You looked back at the building, completely safe in the backdrop of the night. You turned back to him. His look was dreary and unreadable. “You should probably go back to your room,” he said, voice still far away. You tried not to take that badly. It just seemed random. 

“Okay,” you said quietly. “Are you okay Dalton?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” You nodded slowly. People started to pass you, going back inside. 

“Want me to walk you back up?” “I’m okay,” he assured you, some of the life returning to his voice. 

“Alright…I’ll see you tomorrow?” He nodded quickly and started to walk into the crowd. 

-

The next morning you woke up in a daze. You couldn’t quite remember what happened the night before, all of it glossing over your memory like a blur. You grabbed your phone off the side table, your roommate still snoozing away. You had a text from Dalton and a text from Chris, his old roommate. 

Taking Dalton to that frat party tonight. Wanna come? 

You opened that one up first. Dalton at a frat party? You almost snorted. You hadn’t been back in his life for very long but it didn’t seem like his vibe. You opened Dalton’s text next. 

Sorry about last night. Had a weird dream and woke up weird. 

You texted him back immediately. 

No worries. Are you really going to the frat party tonight? 

Almost immediately a little bubble showed up in the white box. You laid your head back down on the pillow. It felt like you had only taken a nap because of the weird in between moments. A text came from Dalton. 

Supposedly. Chris wants me to go. Do you wanna come? 

You glanced at your calendar. 

I have a test in the morning, I think I’ll pass. Thanks for the invite tho :) Try not to get too drunk! 

You opened Chris’s texts back up too to answer her as well. As you were typing out your response, Dalton texted you again. 

Are you sure??? I could get lost, drunk and suggestive. Who would protect me from the onslaught of potential girls? 

You rolled your eyes harder. 

Chris will! 

You turned off your phone to get ready for the day. 

-

You sat on your bed in your dorm room. Your eyes were dropping off to sleep, phone down on your comforter, computer open as you looked at reference pictures. Your sketch book was open, though it didn’t have anything except the bare bones of some sort of idea. You hummed to the music coming from your phone, mind wandering from your work. 

Your roommate had gone to the same frat party as Dalton. You were by yourself tonight as the sun dropped. It was becoming more clear that you just wanted to go to sleep tonight to wake up rested for the test. You picked up your phone, pursing your lips as you tried to decide if giving up homework was worth it for the night. You had no new texts from Dalton or Chris except a picture from Chris’s phone of the two of them there. You smiled a bit. Dalton looked awkward and out of place. It was good that he was branching out. 

Finally you set your things aside. There was no use in trying to do any more work when you were still catching up on sleep from the night before. 

As you placed your head on the pillow a simultaneous pierce through your skull erupted. You grabbed your head at the familiar feeling. Usually you only got visions when you were asleep, waking up to some sort of horrific memory. 

A bathroom. It felt cold, like ice, like the ground hadn’t been stepped on by humans in years. A boy was there, his face shrouded by the toilet. He gripped the sides but his hands didn’t look real. Something was wrong with him. You couldn’t tell what it was. The sound of the door opening, a creek, a sudden stop. 

You dug your nails into the skin on your forehead, willing it to stop. It had been so long since you were awake when this happened. 

Before it subsided you could see Dalton in the doorway. The dread returned, the same dread you had when you were a kid and he was moving away where you couldn’t protect him. You let out a breath that you had been holding. Your hands were shaking. 

Usually you wrote down what you saw, quickly jotting down things you could remember. Typically nothing would stand out for you to take immediate action. This time you jumped out of bed, quickly putting on slip on shoes. You were wearing shorts and a hoodie, clothes to sleep in, when you ran down the stairs. You had never been to the frat the party was at tonight but there were still fliers everywhere and you assured yourself you would find one. 

Thankfully, right on the pole outside of the building was a green poster with the address. You knew where Greek Row was, not more than a five minute walk from your dorm. You turned towards it and started to run. 

By the time you got there you were already exhausted. You crashed through the door, entering a chaotic scene. There were people everywhere, ramming into each other, sloshing drinks on people’s clothes, too drunk to care. You scanned the crowd. You pushed through people, to the staircase. There were people hanging out there, leaning against the railing, leaning against each other. You walked upstairs, searching for a bathroom. The doors were mostly locked. 

You ran right into Chris, leaving the bathroom. You peeked inside but it wasn’t the one from your vision. 

“Woah! You decided to come after all! What are you wearing?” 

“Where’s Dalton?” She gestured to a door down the hall. You rushed towards it, almost tripping over yourself. You swung the door open. Dalton was on the ground, half under the bed, face filled with fear. “Dalton!” He snapped his head back up at you and then back in the air. There was nothing there. “Did you..did you see that?” 

“No.” 

“There was something-” You fell to your knees beside him, helping him out from under the bed. 

“What did you see?” 

“A kid in the bathroom. There was someone in the bathroom and he was-”

“Dead.” Chris emerged at the door frame. 

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Have you been astral projecting lately?” you asked him, voice low and serious. His eyebrows furrowed. 

“Have I been what?” You stared at him for a long time, unsure what he meant. Maybe he just didn’t want to say anything in front of Chris. 

“Dalton come on.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said and he felt honest. He grabbed your hand, willing you to believe him.

“When we were kids you could walk around in your sleep. Your soul left your body or whatever.” You paused, trying to read his face. “You don’t remember?” 

‘No,” he said, honestly. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Chris repeated. 

“We should go,” you said quickly. “We’ll talk back at the dorms.” You helped Dalton up. 

-

Though she protested, Chris left the two of you alone in Dalton’s dorm. The explanations coming out of his mouth weren’t something she trusted and she trusted you to make sure he went to bed alright. Though she did feel bad for dragging him along, unsure if the drinking had something to do with his abnormal reaction. 

“We have to call your parents,” you said as he sat down at his desk. He shook his head. 

“I can’t.” 

“Yes you can. They know what happened here and why you don’t remember it.” You hadn’t known everything about Dalton being in a coma but you didn’t expect him to remember nothing of it completely. He detailed not even remembering being sick. They moved into the new house and then the rest of the year was nothing but a blur. 

“I wouldn’t believe you if I hadn’t just seen it,” he breathed. You grabbed his phone off the table, opening it up. “Wait-” 

“No wait. We have to call your mom. She’ll know what to do.” 

“But this could just be something completely normal. You said I could do it before I went into my coma.” 

“And then you went too far, Dalton. I don’t actually know how far too far is but I know you’re already too close to it.” You held up the phone for him. “Call her.” He looked at you, eyebrows knitted. He looked at the canvas at his desk, completely covered in black, a red door created at the edges. There was something at that door he couldn’t remember anymore. He set his jaw and grabbed his phone. 

“I don’t think this is gonna help.” 

“Put it on speaker.” 

The phone rang for a moment but no longer than that. Renai answered quickly. 

“Hello? Dalton?” 

“Hey mom.” 

“It’s nice of you to call,” she said, half jokingly. “How are things there? Are you settling in nicely?” 

“Yeah mom, that’s not really why I called.” He gave you a look as you sat beside him eagerly. “I’ve been having these dreams and Y/N said you might know something about that.” 

The line was silent for a moment. 

“What kind of dreams?” 

“I can see my body when I leave it. Like I’m walking around in this other world.” 

“Is Y/N there?”

“Right here Mrs. Lambert.” She paused again. The tension seeped from the phone. You met Dalton’s eyes. 

“Mom?” 

“Maybe I should just come up there and talk to you in person. Can Y/N stay with you until I get there?” 

“What? Mom, you don’t need to come all the way up here.” Shuffling came from the other line.

“It’s too hard to explain over the phone. I’ll be there in the morning.” 

“No, mom.” He took a deep breath. “What happened? Tell me now.” His hands were wrapped tightly around the phone. He had grabbed your hand. You couldn’t remember when. 

“You and your father don’t know,” she said quietly. “We made it so that those memories were suppressed. I don’t know how it came back.” She shuddered. “When you were in the coma you went somewhere Dalton. For three months, we lost you.” 

“Where?” 

“A place called The Further.” Her voice was gravely serious. He stared at the ground. The name sent shivers down his spine, like all that repressed childhood fear came back. “You got lost there and things tried to take your body. Your dad went back to find you and…something else came back instead of him.” Dalton looked at the door painting on his desk. 

“How do I stop it?” 

“I don’t know honey. I’m coming down.”

“What about dad? What if he’s going through this too?” 

“I’ll get your father. We’ll come together.” Dalton had nothing to say to that. It must be serious if they were going to stay together for a long period of time like the drive up to school. “Stay with Y/N.” There was a beat. “I love you Dalton.” 

“I love you too mom.” 

She hung up the phone. For a long time you just sat there in silence. You hadn’t ever gotten those answers before, the ones you had only gotten glimpses of when you were a kid trying to sleep. 

“I remember the demon trying to get you,” you whispered. “He was dark…with red,” you said. “I had nightmares about him for months. I kept seeing him get closer and closer but no one believed me.” 

Dalton looked over at you, his look unreadable. 

“He’s trying to get me again,” Dalton muttered. “I can feel him.” 

You shook your head. That was the last thing you wanted to hear. You stood up, letting go of his hand. 

“This is bigger than us. There’s this whole other world and you’re going to it and it’s so close-” 

“But if I don’t go to it then-”

“Are you gonna stay awake? Forever?” Dalton shut his mouth. “Repressing the ability didn’t work so what else is there to do but enter the place?” You shivered. Just the memory of your visions sent chills down your spine. “I haven’t seen the demon recently. I’ve just seen you.” 

“Maybe that’s a good thing.” You nodded. You paced, unsure what to do with all the fear in your body. “We just have to wait till the morning, then my mom will be here.” You both knew that might not solve anything. Still, you nodded. There was nothing else to do but wait.

 “I’m staying here with you.” 

“I don’t wanna be alone anyway.” He shook his head, voice far away. This dorm had started to become a safe haven, despite the places your brain went when you were asleep. It felt much better than your own dorm with the roommate you hardly knew. You’d likely be getting a text from her in the morning, wondering where you were again. 

You sat back down on Dalton’s bed. 

“Are we gonna try and stay awake all night?” He shook his head. 

“If I wake up I’ll just stay right where I am.” 

“That sounds easier than it will be.” It was already late, nearly midnight. You were tired and your heart was starting to slow down now that the problem didn’t seem as pressing. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes but it didn’t do much.

“Are you ready to sleep now?” he asked. You nodded. 

“I really thought I was gonna go to bed early tonight. Looks like I’ll be skipping the test in the morning.”

“I don’t want you to do that. I’ll be fine by myself.” You shook your head. 

“No way. I’m staying here until your parents show.” You yawned. “But I should probably go to sleep soon.” He glanced at the bed on the other side of the room. He knew you would go there automatically if he didn’t say otherwise. He couldn’t exactly explain it but he would just feel safer if you were closer to him. 

He could explain it but suddenly that feeling was scarier then wandering off into The Further. 

“I’ll take that b-”

“You could sleep with me.” You raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. Without so much as a beat you answered. 

“Okay.” He let out a breath. You got up. “Scoot over then.” He looked up at you and your willingness to be so close to him.

“I’ve gotta change.” 

“Then change.” He stood up, walking to his drawer. He shuffled around in there for something acceptable to wear. Usually he just wore his boxers and a shirt but suddenly that felt so revealing. He could see you in the corner of his eye, getting under the covers and getting comfortable. 

You tried to pretend it wasn’t a big deal to you that he asked even though your heart was in your throat. 

“Don’t look,” he said. You made a dramatic gesture of covering your eyes. He took his shirt, facing away from you. You peaked between your fingers, admiring his back as he quickly slipped the other shirt back on. When he undid his belt you covered your eyes again. 

“You can stay awake,” you offered. He turned off the lamp on the desk, leaving only the nightlight. He moved the blankets aside so he could sit beside you. 

“I’m exhausted from finding out my memory was erased.”

“It sounds so dramatic that way.” 

“What would you say?”

“Hypnotism.” He put his head against the pillow, facing you. It was rare you were at eye level. 

“That’s dramatic too.” 

You sat there in silence for a moment. You hadn’t seen his face so close to you since you were kids. It was just like the sleepovers you had when you were a kid, just a little less innocent. 

“Are you scared to fall asleep?” he asked, voice a whisper now.

“Sometimes. Tonight I am. I don’t wanna dream about you.” He should be feeling awkward, being so close to you. Instead he felt more comfortable than ever. 

“Then don’t.” 

“I’ll give it my best effort.” Your eyes were so heavy. They closed without you even thinking about it. 

“I’m gonna be awake a little longer. I think I’m gonna sketch.” 

“Okay Dalton,” you whispered and it sounded so incredibly childlike. He sat up a bit, leaning against the headboard. He grabbed his sketchpad off the table. You nuzzled your head into the pillow. “Do you mind if I use you as a pillow?” you asked quietly. 

“No. Not at all.” 

You moved forward a bit and then your head was on his lower chest, arm over him. He put his hand over your back and suddenly sketching seemed much less important than making you comfortable. 

“Goodnight Y/N.”

-

Neither of you had set an alarm. 

Renai and Josh showed up early at 7 the next morning, the sun still slowly coming up. Renai knocked on the door, antsy to see her son. She had explained everything to Josh on the way over. He was pleased to find he wasn’t crazy. 

The knock went unanswered. She took a deep breath and knocked again. 

“You don’t think it’s unlocked do you?” she questioned. Josh tried the doorknob. It opened with ease. They shared a look. 

The other bed was still unused. Laying in the other bed was you and Dalton. You were on his chest, a pencil lazily in his fingers. He was hugging you with both arms, cheek pressed against your head. 

Renai couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. 

“They’re okay,” she whispered. Josh nodded. He wanted to smile at the sight. It felt right. 

“Should we wait for them to wake up?” 

Renai couldn’t help but feel unhappy when Dalton slept. Even years later, whenever he slept in, she was checking on him constantly. 

“They’ll understand.” She approached him, sitting at the edge and nudging his shoulder. He groaned. He was okay. He was there. You nosed your face further into his chest. 

Neither of you had any nightmares that night. Your sleep was as black as it should be, consumed by each other's arms.

[somethingblu3]

Mirror Mirror | Nikolai

Read on Ao3 here

18+ minors dni.

Fandom: Beyond The Rave (2008)

Summary:

You and Nikolai need to relieve your stress after a hunt.

TW: vampires,mirror sex,hate fuck,Vampire Sex,Rough Sex,standing sex,dirty talk,humiliation,biting,scratching,bruises,bram stoker lore ,blood drinking,Enemies to Lovers, vampires vs humans, vampire hunter,Possessive Sex,toxic,Unhealthy Relationships,dom/sub,No Safeword,forbidden relationship,hunting,Stress Relief,Orgasm Delay/Denial.

Pairing: Nikolai x female afab reader.

Word Count: 2,044

Graphic Credit: @keep-it-light

Note:

lightly edited. Still new to smut so let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy the buffy references! I'm trying to keep the vampire lore mostly in line with Bram Stroker. Here's the poem.

"I would appreciate it if you stopped killing my friends," Nikolai sneers as he watches you enter the basement, and you drop the wooden stake to the floor with a 'clank.'

You roll your eyes at him. "And it would be nice if your friends stopped eating mine," You warn him.

He scoffs as he steps forward, and his hand cups your right cheek. "Darling, what would be the fun in that? I know you love the chase I can feel it when your heart skips a beat. I just wish you would admit it," He whispers into your neck softly.

"Never." You groan from the tiredness and the physical exhaustion of the hunt for pleasure from his bite. You can't tell.

After a few sucks, he pulls away and wipes the crimson blood stating his chin with the back of his hand. "What's not enough for you, Nikolai?" You almost whine.

He smirks greedily "It's not that Darling, it's just that I have a little...surprise for you...a little..gift."

You raise a brow. Nikolai's gifts were never traditional gifts as you watch him scurry around the basement you half expect him to gift you a fresh head in a box you wouldn't put it past him.

You keep your eye focused carefully on him as he moves something tall and rectangular shaped in the shadows covered in a bed sheet. As Nikolai removes the cloth, uncovering the mirror. The light behind you bounces off the glass, creating a kaleidoscope. As he shrugs the rest of the fabric away in the reflection of the mirror, the cloth dances on its own accord.

"A mirror?" you frown.

Nikolai throws the bed sheet onto the ground and he scans the mirror even though he has no reflection he reaches forward and presses his finger against the faded text of the silver frame.

"I thought Silver was deadly for vampires" You say with a frown as your eyes escape your own reflection. It makes you uncomfortable your skin scrawls it's almost as if you don't want to face yourself and you know that Nikolai can hear your blood pumping.

"That's a myth" He tells you. He seems entranced by the mirror, his eyes mesmerized by it.

It almost broke your heart. he hadn't seen himself for who knows how long. It must be strange you knew one thing for sure that being turned would be the last thing you wanted not just because of the loss of your reflection but also because of the other factors not being able to see the sun hiding in the dark and the shadows all alone but then your heart skipped and you knew he felt it too. Nikolai wasn't alone. He had you even if you wanted nothing more than to stake his heart and rip his head off. There was a fondness you had for him even if it was small and often short-lived you couldn't lie to yourself that Man. That monster consumed you.

"This mirror's special to you, isn't it?" You ask

He nods and you watch as his adam's apple bobs.

"I guess you could say that. It's the last thing from my home before....before it happened"

The fire. You knew so little about his past but every now and then he would bring up the fire you had done your own research of course behind his back you couldn't trust him at first but from what you've found he had gone through something traumatic regarding a fire. Loosing not just a house but from the wording of the newspaper a wife and a baby. You couldn't help but sometimes wonder if he was looking to replace that in you.

You squint your eyes as you try and read the font that is wrapped around the frame of the mirror. Not only is it singed, it's also cursive and you quickly discover it is not in English.

"Romanian" He tells you firmly snapping you out of your haze - a side effect of his bite.

"What does it mean?" You ask

He hesitates for a moment, clenching his jaw "It's a poem"

"Will you read me it?" You request hopefully a smirk curls at the corner of your lips.

"I will it's your girl after all Darling but why don't we use it to it's full advantage hm?" He hums

You chew your bottom lip "What do you mean?"

Nioklai turns on his feet suddenly he's behind you. Swift vampire speed.

You roll your eyes as you feel his hands digging into your side shimming you out of your dirt stained trousers.

"Why don't you wear skirts anymore?" He teased dragging the fabric further and further to expose your underwear.

Dark blue with constellations. Cute.

You wished more than anything you could see his reflection in the mirror as he stood behind you. A shiver ran down your spine as he palmed your ass with his hand caressing it until it left marks you knew you would be purple and blue all over when morning came you would have to go back to wearing your long jumpers in the middle of summer so that your brother Ed wouldn't see.

"Your thinking about him, aren't you pet?" Nikolai teased as he hooked your finger in your underwear. You were already bared and aching for him.

You didn't say anything in return you knew that he was playing with you teasing and trying to get under your skin you focus on your own reflection in the mirror ignoring his taunts you weren't going to let him get off that easy.

"Your brother Ed. What would he think if he knew that his innocent sister was a Vampire's whore?" He taunted as he punctuated every word.

"He won't know. He will never know about this-" You say as you watch him from the corner of his eye and he lets out a dark chuckle.

"My dear. If he doesn't know by now I will make sure that he does by leaving these pretty little marks against your porcelain skin" His lips brush against your neck even tangled in your hair.

You moan into him, almost giving up on him entirely. Your body turned to mush as your underwear fell to the ground of the basement, your legs cold and shivering even colder against his ice skin.

"You promised me-" You whine as he pulls his lips back "A poem"

He groans "Your insatiable"

"I thought this was meant to be my gift Nikolai?" you frown with a pout as you try to find some way to play with him. To get him back for all the times he would easily turn your body into clay he could mold anyway he wanted.

"Now your going to be a good girl and I'll tell you the poem as long as you let me fuck you in front of this mirror" He orders

You nod. Purley out of habit. Fuck.

"Tell me, tell me that you want to do this-" He urges.

You know he doesn't actually want your consent he just makes you say it so he can taunt you about it later. That you wanted this - that you asked for this. Asked for his bruises burning against your skin branding you with his sharp claws.

"I--" you whimper as his finger nails dig deeper into your flesh he hasn't even entered you yet and you don't even need to see his reflection to know that he's enjoying this.

You heard him from behind as he undid his zipper with one hand. You could feel his jeans rubbing against you as they fell down you could feel him immediately and he wans' even pressing against you.

"Love-"

"I want this" You tell him and then he finally enters. He breathing into your ear.

"I think you deserve this gift from me my sweet"

You moan as you feel him ghost against you, the edge of his tip pressing against the softness of your skin.

"Your dripping for me already aren't you my love?" He teases as his hand reaches to press against your clit.

"Drenched-" He smirks.

You watch yourself in the mirror. Your head and eyes rolling back as he brushed teased and rubbed against you. You bite your bottom lip trying to conceal your sounds but you were in the basement and your brother was away with his girlfriend for the week so it wasn't as if it matters how loud you were. You just didn't want to hear yourself so exposed and so used by him. It was humiliating but at the same time...you enjoyed it, craved it even.

You try and move away to tease him but he already has you under his grasp under his will it was like you were possessed - hypnotized even as he grinds against you continuing to pick up the pace.

"No more teasing-tell me your damn poem" You groan. You could orgasm just from this alone not even touching his cock and boy does he know that.

"Alright fine" He grunts "But if you look away you know the consequences" He taunts as he takes a handful of your hair as a taunt. As a warning.

You moan in conformation.

"Good" You hear Nikolai behind you licking his lips as your eyes flutter back to your reflection.

"And suddenly I understood that without you I’m not completely sane myself, To run away and come straight back I’m tempted"

His thrusts increase with each word. You watch yourself your body jerking back you can feel his eyes on your tits as the bounce under your shirt. You don't normally wear a bra with your workout gear and with a hunt there was no need for one today.

Lucky Bastard.

There was something about hearing Nikolai grunt behind you his hand slapping into your ass as his thrusts changed rhyme from slow and steady to then fast hard and primal.

"To never know my place on Earth again. So fast did you become part of my blood, So much part of myself you are right now, A mere scratch would make me cry, For fear that I might lose you drop by drop"

"Nikolai-" You gasp.

You felt nothing but your mixed pleasure dripping between your legs. Already you were numb and soaked after this you knew you would need a long warm shower to escape his aroma.

"There is no springtime anywhere, With lifeless blossoms now you button up your coat. With springtime’s bitterness I look for honey, But you, my love, are there in its place."

You wish you could see him as he came undone grunting as he thrusted into you. You knew it was nearing the end as he brushed his fangs against your neck puncturing it still you watched yourself in the mirror. You could practically see his cock probing against your belly he was so far so deep and so tight. There was something about a vampire that was so different from anything else you had experienced before. Perhaps that was the reason why you found it almost impossible to escape his embrace.

Your neck is red now as he tears at it, ingesting your blood your body rocking back and forth his skin smacking against yours. You eyes fall to the floor as you watch your cum drip down to your legs.

"And suddenly I know that without you, I die myself and can’t come back to life, Although I had been born, as you well know,To be the one protecting you from-from"

He stutters, and it's a sight to behold. You watch as your undead lover comes undone, groaning as he thrusts into you once more, slamming you into him. You are already weak at the knees, and thanks to his powerful grasp, you are able to stay upright for the most part.

"Nikolai-" There's a sense of urgency in your voice as you urge him to come and to finish the poem.

"From yourself-" He grunts, and you roll your head back as you feel his body vibrate with pleasure, and he wraps you in a cold embrace. He breathes in and then out. It won't be long until he's back thrusting into you again.