#willing myself to have fun this year and not suffer

[m00ngbin]

I am so excited for school I am so happy I have both of my electives first I'm so ready to walk back and forth all day I will ignore old 8th graders they will not bark at me they will not talk to me I will keep all my friends and gain a minimum of two I will not get sick I will have fun I will not associate high school with hell I will be fine

[backpackingspace]

Hey this just in? Ptsd sucks balls

[sematarygirls]

Living Dead Girl Pt. II — Patrick Hockstetter.

part one

pairing : patrick hockstetter x ghost!reader

summary : patrick gave into his urges and finally tested his morbid curiosities on prey much larger than just a cat or dog. little did he know his actions would come back to haunt him... literally.

warnings : patrick being a psychopath , animal cruelty , male masturbation , graphic descriptions of murder and suicide , reader being manipulative , degradation , sexual themes ,

word count : 4.5k words !

a/n : can't believe i'm finally posting this after a year and a half. also this is my first attempt at smut-ish so i'm sorry if it's ass. im not gonna say this is 18+ bc I myself am not 18+ (im turning 18 this year tho) also im not your mom and idgaf what you read.

"Finally," a voice sounded, causing him to drop both his can and his plate. The sharp sound of glass breaking followed by a loud thud echoed through the room as the plate and soda can collided with the floor.

"No, no, no," Patrick shook his head, shutting his eyes. "This isn't real. I killed you. You're not here. You're not real."

"Sorry, babe," the voice, your voice, whispered into his ear. Your warm breath fanned his ear, and he felt his whole body tense. "I'm very much real."

"That's not possible," he said through gritted teeth. "I watched you die. I buried you!" He opened his eyes, convinced that this was all some terrible drug trip. Maybe the weed he'd just got from Henry was laced, or maybe he was suffering from a temporary psychosis. Either way, there had to be some rational and logical reason that he was seeing you.

However, when he saw you there, sitting there with a smug look on your face, your presence as solid as any living person, he felt his heart skip a beat.

You tilted your head, eyebrows furrowing as you pouted. "What's wrong, Patrick?" You asked condescendingly. "Don't act so scared now." You walked toward him slowly, watching him scramble backward in a panic. A smile spread across your lips as you saw the pure fear in his eyes when he hit the wall behind him, having nowhere else to go. "You weren't scared when you stabbed me. You weren't scared when you watched me bleed out in your arms. You weren't scared when you buried my body like some animal you found on the side of the road." Your voice was seeping with anger as you stepped closer and closer, cornering him. "So you don't get to be scared now."

Patrick Hockstetter was not someone who was frightened easily. In fact, up until this very moment, he didn't think he had the ability to be frightened at all. His unique ability to remain calm and collected in situations that would often stress others out was one he was prideful of. However, at that moment, he felt all composure and level-headedness dissolve. For the first time in his life, he was scared. Not just scared—terrified.

"What- What do you want?" He asked, his voice shaky as he looked into your eyes. You no longer looked at him like he hung the moon. There were no remnants of your innocence and naivety—willing to trust that people have the best intentions. There was nothing behind your cold, lifeless eyes. It was like staring at a corpse.

"Now, what's the fun in that?" You grinned, leaning forward so your face was inches away from his. Your gaze flickered to his lips. The same lips you thought he'd planned to kiss you with, but instead, he'd stabbed you in the stomach and mocked your intelligence. "You should really watch your back, Patrick," you whispered with a devious smirk, your breath fanning over his face. "I heard the search for me is really picking up after they found my blood in the woods."

Your words snapped him back to the reality of the situation at hand. He had killed you. What you were saying was impossible though. Right? He was meticulous in every stage of his plan. There was no way they found any trace of you. "What are you talking about?" He asked, his eyes searching you for any sign of deception, but you were impossible to read like this. He was no longer able to detect everything from a single glance. He only knew what you wanted him to know.

Without another word, you disappeared, leaving the boy spiraling as he went through all the events of that night over and over again. "Come back!" He screamed, his voice echoing through the empty house. "You can't just leave like that you bitch!"

Patrick let out a frustrated yell as he grabbed the nearest thing—which happened to be a porno mag—and threw it across the room in a fit of rage. Who did you think you were to haunt him? To come into his room, make him feel that horrible emotion, and tease him just to leave abruptly?

He sat on the edge of his bed, trying to control his heavy breathing as his anger took over. You had to have been lying, trying to get into his head. He hated to admit that it was working. He was supposed to be the one in your head. This was his world. He controlled everyone and everything. You shouldn't be here. You should be dead and buried like he had intended.

He fell back in his bed and took a deep breath, letting his mind settle as he chased sleep. He told himself you would be gone tomorrow and that would be that. Your appearance to him, like something out of a Charles Dickens novel, was just a fluke. Tomorrow you would be dead and all would be right with the world.

He drifted off to sleep, having convinced himself that he would never see you again. He was able to get a few hours of sleep, but you weren't going to let him be at peace for long

At around 4 am, Patrick had a very vivid dream that he was choking. He was gasping for air, clawing at his neck as he looked around frantically. His surroundings dissolved into a pitch-black room. He felt his lungs burning, his brain growing fuzzy as the oxygen left him. It felt so vivid, so real.

He awoke in a panic, sitting up straight as he gasped for air. His lungs felt like they were on fire. Like he had truly been deprived of air like he'd dreamed about. He panted, catching his breath as he looked around at his room, thankfully finding no signs of you. However, when he finally felt secure, able to draw a breath without feeling like a thirsty man drinking water, he realized the pillow that had been behind his head was now sat on his lap.

The realization dawned on him that he may have been actually suffocating, and you were the culprit. He shook his head, trying to expel the thought as he laid back down, throwing the pillow off into the black depths of his room, so he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. It was just a dream. Just as you were just a vision.

Patrick wasn't stupid, though many would argue to the contrary. Just because he didn't give a shit about school and didn't try didn't mean he wasn't smart. He just saved his intelligence for things that actually mattered—like planning and executing a murder.

That in mind, his refusal to accept the things he deep down knew to be true was not, as some would think, him being stupid. On the contrary, he believed himself smarter than to believe in silly things like ghosts. Dead things stay dead. He'd learned that at a very young age. He knew when he killed his brother that he would not be coming back. Just as he knew when he killed you that you would not be coming back.

Ghosts don't exist. He wasn't dumb enough to believe that.

As he laid in bed, trying to rationalize himself into a calm enough state to fall asleep again, he found himself more on edge with every creak of the old house around him. He stared up at the ceiling, his eyes conspiring with the moonlight to play tricks on him. His breath hitched at every shadow dancing around the dark.

You were proud of your work, and you had barely done anything yet. You watched from the shadows, pleased as he seemed to run himself in circles trying to cope with everything going on. The mere thought of you was torture enough.

You grinned, biting your lip as a thought washed over you. As a ghost, not bound by the physical realm, you had the ability to do a lot of things. One of those so happened to be raising and lowering the temperature in a room.

You focused hard, raising the temperature several degrees, making Patrick swear at the sudden sweat washing over him. You watched with a satisfied smirk as he pulled his shirt over his head, trying to cool himself off.

He didn't have a six pack or anything, but you didn't expect him to. He had a lean, toned torso with a very sexy v-line peeking out from his jeans. A small tattoo sat on his stomach just above his v-line on the right side. You couldn't make it out in the darkness, but you didn't care much. The sight of it alone was enough.

After all, who said you couldn't mix a little bit of business with pleasure.

He had taken away the rest of your life, all the possibilities of experiencing having your first kiss, losing your virginity, falling in love. It was only fair he made up for that in one way or another before your time together came to an end.

The time passed agonizingly slowly with Patrick staring at the ceiling and you watching him, studying him like he was some foreign thing. It was so interesting to watch someone when they don't know they're being watched. Of course, he felt the hairs on his neck stand on end, his body detecting the unseen eyes on him, but he chalked it up to paranoia—as he did every other unexplainable thing that seemed to be happening to him.

His mind drifted off, the heat making him restless as his brain filled with gruesome images of his previous kills. He sifted through his memory for the most interesting ones—dismembering birds, beheading cats, snapping a squirrel or two's neck—but none of them seemed to get him off anymore.

The image of your face right after he stabbed you made it's way into his mind. Your eyes, so wide and filled with fear. He could practically hear your sweet voice crying out, asking why he would do this to you. The thought made his cock tighten in his jeans.

He reached down, palming himself through his jeans with a groan. Reliving the sounds of you choking and coughing up your own blood had his fingers working quickly to undo his belt. He tossed it to the side, practically ripping the button off his jeans as he pulled them down along with his underwear, allowing his dick to finally be free from the restrictive fabric.

He spat in his hand, gripping his cock and lubricating it. He caught his chapped lower lip between his teeth as swept his thumb over his pink head, smearing his precum across it. He let out a low moan, letting his hand travel up and down his dick at a slow, agonizing pace. He kept his eyes screwed shut, immersing himself in the memory of your murder as he stroked himself.

Patrick was not a moral man by any means but this was a new low. Getting himself off to you, in his mind, was no better than if he was imagining one of his dead animal playthings. You were nothing to him. You were roadkill.

But, for some reason, the fresh sight of you, wearing the clothes he killed you in with that dark blood stain right where he'd stabbed you, your hair all matted, and the cold, lifeless look in your eyes, made it so easy to relive that night in great detail.

It was the greatest night of his life. The biggest release of pressure he'd ever felt since he began getting those homicidal urges—those itches. He didn't think he'd ever get to feel that euphoria again, but fucking himself to the thought of it would get him pretty damn close.

He let out a strangled moan, his hips pushing into his hand as he came, and he was right, it was the second-best feeling he'd ever felt. It didn't compare to killing you, but it was enough to satiate his urges once again.

He laid there, panting for what felt like hours. The time moved by so slowly until finally, the sound of the alarm block beside his bed blaring pulled him from his thoughts.

The red numbers reading 7:30 blinked slowly, reminding him that he had to get up and get ready for school. He leaned over, smacking the top of the clock roughly to silence it before falling back flat on his bed, preparing himself to get up.

He groaned, pushing himself up and grabbing a random pair of jeans and a shirt that smelled clean enough. He quickly got dressed before making his way back downstairs. He knew Belch would be here any second to pick him up—he always woke up later than he was realistically supposed to.

He slipped his boots on, and a few moments later, he heard Belch laying on his car horn. Rolling his eyes, he opened the door, heading outside and letting it slam just behind him.

"Calm your tits," he shouted in annoyance. Patrick always had a short fuse, but after the particularly restless night in which he'd been visited by some fucking ghost of Christmas Past, he found himself particularly irritable.

"Dude what happened yesterday?" Victor asked as Patrick climbed into the blue Trans Am.

"You were totally tripping the fuck out," Belch chimed in, starting the car and peeling out of Patrick's neighborhood.

"Dumb fuck can't handle his liquor," Henry scoffed from his spot in the passenger's seat.

"Shut the fuck up, Bowers," Patrick bit back, gazing out the window. "At least some of us don't piss our pants when we drink."

"It was one fucking time you dickhead!" Henry defended quickly, his cheeks turning red from the embarrassment.

At the feeling of someone's hand on his thigh, Patrick quickly looked over at Vic. "Don't fucking touch me you-" he paused just short of spitting some derogatory remark about Victor being gay and a freak when he saw you sitting between him and Victor, grinning at him darkly.

"What the fuck are you talking about, dude?" Victor asked, bewildered by Patrick's behavior. Patrick was always an odd one, but he never acted this weird.

"He probably smoked himself fucking dumb," Henry grumbled, still annoyed about the pants pissing remark.

You held a finger to your lips as climbed over onto his lap, holding onto his shoulders to steady yourself. You just wanted to rile him up a little, make him feel suffocated by you, like he could never escape. And truly, he couldn't. You were never going anywhere until you believed justice had properly been served, and you would take that in any form.

He glared at you, but you paid him no mind, leaning to whisper into his ear: "How cute," you condescended him. "You thought I would just go away." You dug your nails into his shoulders making him sharply inhale, trying not to tip off his friends to the seemingly unwarranted pain he was feeling. "You will never be rid of me," you whispered menacingly, looking deep into his eyes with a sickening grin that made nausea pool in his stomach.

In any other situation, having someone on his lap, digging their nails into his shoulders would probably have been a pleasurable experience, but this was not any other situation. This was a nightmare he couldn't seem to wake up from.

When Belch finally pulled into the school parking lot, Patrick couldn't get out of the car fast enough. You disappeared as he scrambled to unlock the door and get out, finally feeling like he could breathe. He pulled his shirt collar to the side, looking down at the angry red marks where your nails had been. They served as a disturbing reminder that you were really there, and you could do anything to him.

"You get laid last night, Hockstetter?" Belch asked, grinning as he saw the red marks.

"That why you ran off yesterday?" Henry snickered. "You pussy whipped?"

"At least, I actually get pussy," he sneered, paling as he heard your laugh echoing around him the moment the words slipped from his lips. It was a deafening sound. Like a mix between a cackle and a scream that seemed to permeate his surroundings.

His jaw clenched, eye twitching as he resisted the urge to cover his ears. Apart from not wanting to look insane, he also didn't think it would help much. You weren't around him. You were in him, in his head.

The bell could faintly be heard going off inside the school, making Victor curse under his breath. They had two minutes to get to class or they were late.

"Mrs. Denton's gonna throw a bitch fit if I'm late again," he groaned, watching as Henry lit a cigarette.

"Kiss ass," he remarked, taking a long drag before exhaling the puff of smoke into Belch's face as Victor walked away.

"You asshole," Belch coughed, shoving Henry.

"Oh, shit." Henry's eyes widened as he tossed his cigarette on the ground, quickly stomping it out. "Let's go," he ordered, making his way up the stairs to the front doors of the school, looking behind him frantically.

Patrick's eyebrows furrowed at the sudden shift in Henry's demeanor. He followed the brunette's gaze, his eyes locking with those of Butch Bowers, the sheriff.

"Wonder if they're here for you," your voice taunted him, breath tickling the back of his right ear. He turned, preparing to come face to face with that condescending smile you always seemed to be wearing, but you weren't there.

He looked back, finding Sheriff Bowers still staring at him, seemingly ignoring whatever the deputy was leaning into his ear to say. Patrick wasn't one to back down easily, but your presence, your warnings, had him on edge. He quickly advanced forward, his lengthy legs providing long strides as he followed suit in heading inside Derry Highschool.

The sounds of his heavy boots hitting the linoleum floor echoed through the empty hall as he made his way to his math class. Victor was right; Mrs. Densen was going to throw a bitch fit that he was late, but he didn't care. He wouldn't have cared on a normal day, but on this day, with the police sniffing around and you practically breathing down his neck, he cared even less—which he didn't even know was possible.

He pulled open the door to the classroom, a hush falling over the students as he entered. Most stared at him wide-eyed, some avoided looking at him altogether, and he briefly caught Vic looking at him with sympathy. The teacher, however, was glaring at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Mr. Hockstetter, late again I see," she said pointedly. "You've earned yourself a detention after school today." Patrick stifled a laugh as he made his way to his seat at the very back of the classroom. "Is something funny?" She asked, her tone displaying clear annoyance.

"Yeah, that you think I care," he rolled his eyes, slipping into his desk. He tuned out whatever lecture the teacher decided to give him after that. His gaze drifted to the empty desk in the front row— the one you used to sit at.

"Don't go feeling remorseful now," you said into his ear. He felt your arm around his shoulders as you leaned down, your face positioned next to his. He turned to look at you, and you turned to look at him, your faces almost touching.

your breath fanned across his face, the moment oddly intimate until you grinned at him, opening your mouth and emitting an ear piercing scream.

"Ah," he grunted in pain, his eyes screwing shut, and his hands gripping his ears. It felt like his eardrums were seconds away from bursting and causing blood to pour out of his ears. "Shut the fuck up!" He yelled, the room, and you, falling dead silent immediately after the words left him.

He peeled his eyes open, his hands falling as he looked around. "Excuse me, Mr. Hockstetter," the teacher gasped, clearly taken aback by his outburst. "Take yourself to the principal's office right this instant!" She ordered him.

His blood began to boil as he stood up abruptly, storming out of the classroom and slamming the door behind him. He was getting very very sick and tired of your little games. He headed toward the back door of the school, not wanting to cross paths with Henry's dad.

"This doesn't look like the way to the principal's office," you mused, appearing beside him. He stopped, turning to shove you against the locker. He groaned when his arms made contact with the locker instead of your body, and your laugh echoed behind him. "You think you can hurt me, how cute."

He let out a frustrated groan, smashing his fists against the locker. He couldn't stand you. He couldn't stand having someone that he couldn't manipulate or hurt but that could manipulate and hurt him. "What do you want with me?" He asked, refusing to look at you.

"To break you," you grinned. "To have you begging for it to stop."

Yeah, right he thought.

He was Patrick fucking Hockstetter; he didn't beg. He didn't bend to the will of others, especially not some dead bitch. He was determined not to let you win. You would eventually get tired of tormenting him and go back to wherever the fuck you came from. He was sure of it.

Oh, how he underestimated your patience and overestimated his resilience.

He lasted exactly a week. A week of you screaming and poking and scratching and fucking with his head. A week of people staring at him like he was insane with his random outbursts and talking to the air. A week of torment before you finally had him right where you wanted him.

"Just leave me alone!" He begged, standing in the middle of his room with his head in his hands. You had finally drove him to the brink of insanity, and he didn't know how much longer he could live like this. You, being everywhere all the time, taunting and touching and teasing, it was too much for him. He couldn't take it anymore. "Go away!"

You tsked, grinning at him, that condescending grin that filled him with indescribable rage. How could you look at him like that? Like he was stupid? You were the stupid one. You were killed by him not the other way around!

"I'm afraid that's not how this works," you told him, shaking your head slightly. "I get to stay until you give me what I want." You took a step, punctuating the next words you said with a pause between each one and another step forward. "However. Long. It. Takes."

"What the fuck do you want from me?" He yelled, desperate to get you away from him forever.

"Well," you drawled, running your index finger along his chest, making him flinch. You smiled at the effect you had on him. He talked a big game, getting mad when you left—cursing, throwing things, even—having the audacity to fuck himself to the thought of your murder— but when it came to being face to face with you, he cowered away.

Ain't nothing like a little fear to make a paper man crumble as Henry Bowers' father once said.

"I'll be nice and give you a choice," you said darkly. "You can turn yourself in," you almost laughed at the way his demeanor hardened. "Which we both know you're too proud and stubborn to do," you continued. The intrigue behind Patrick's eyes was undeniable as he eagerly awaited his second choice. "Or," you trailed off, grabbing a razor from his dresser and holding it in front of his face. "You can die."

"You're a crazy bitch!" He shouted, though his inability to mask the tremble in his voice made him sound less than threatening.

"Maybe," you shrugged, admiring the sharp piece of metal. "Hmm," you hummed. "I wonder how you'll feel about me in another week," you asked thoughtfully. "I bet you'll be wishing you took the chance while you had it."

His jaw clenched at your words. He'd already lost a considerable amount of sleep because of you, and the thought of you tormenting him any longer was a fate worse than death. "Why don't you just kill me?" He asked defeatedly. You'd backed him into a corner that he was positive he couldn't get out of without doing things your way.

"I'm not you, Patrick," you spat hatefully. "I don't kill people or things."

"What? Like driving me to suicide is any better?" He scoffed, challenging your sense of superiority over him.

"You have an informed choice," you told him, trying to regain your calm. You didn't like losing your temper, especially not to the likes of Patrick Hockstetter, scum of the earth. "That's a luxury you didn't extend to me."

He eyed the blade in your hand warily. He didn't like accepting defeat. He would never admit to killing you. Being confined to a tiny room, unable to satiate that burning itch deep inside him whenever he needed; it would drive him mad.

"Go on," you urged him softly, holding the razor out for him to take. "Put yourself out of your misery. End it all and be free."

He looked between you and the blade hesitantly, a million thoughts running through his mind as he tried to make a decision. Glaring at you, he took the blade. A scowl formed on his face as he observed the triumphant expression that you seemed to wear immediately after he made his choice.

"Two deep cuts, and you'll never have to see me again," you assured him. That all but sealed the deal. Patrick didn't believe in heaven or hell and death didn't scare him. Being caged like one of the many animals he's so cruelly killed scared him more than dying. He walked over to his bed, sitting on the edge.

He sucked in a breath, pressing the blade into his wrist and dragging it upward toward his inner elbow. He clenched his teeth, deeply inhaling through them. A groan of pain fell from his lips as he felt the warm blood begin seeping from his wound, running down his arms and onto his jeans. He continued the action on the other arm, feeling nauseous and lightheaded.

The blade fell from his trembling fingers, clattering to the floor as he fell back onto the bed. His head felt foggy, and the pain began to melt away into numbness. His eyes began to droop, and he faintly saw your outline standing above him.

He just barely felt you lean down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. His ears began to ring as his eyes fell shut. The words you spoke next were the last he would hear before his heart slowed to an eventual stop. He almost couldn't make them out, the sound muffled, as if he was underwater, but his mind used its last bit of energy to process them before giving out.

"Goodbye, Patrick Hockstetter," you said softly. "May you burn in hell."

tags! : @fatfagsj , @mysticalhills , @simpingforthe80s , @slasherho , @pinkpanther-44 , @slaggylemon , @kyranisnotdead , @ladydragiiss ,

[hyperfixat]

hey!! I really love ur blog so so much rn! If you can, I'd like to request a neurodivergent MC? One that has certain foods they hate and have never told anyone since their family had forced them to try them since they were little? (Ex. Cauliflower, brussel sprouts, blueberries, bananas, carrots) and so, one day, when theyre all eating (at the HoL or just out) and they notice MC eating all but those foods on their plate? Sorry if this is a bit too specific, I just really can't write it properly for myself and i would like to have some form of comfort-

Anyway, have an amazing day!!

anon i am holding you so close rignt now this cured my writers block this is the first ask i’ve got in like two months TT 

i am incapable of writing anything not hurt comfort so there is some ‘oh man im so sad :(‘ at the beginning but yk if u said u like my writing i imagine u kinda expected this

warning for mentions of throw up and actually eating the bad foods :(

and yes yes yes i love writing explicitly nd mcs!! i added in another obstacle to the req; freaky demon food bcs thats always fun to consider. That way u can kinda make the demon food similar to whatever food u want in ur mind, anyhow, the words u wanted;

/

You push the pile of purple (purple!?) mashed… something from one corner of your plate to the center.  First you had to go to a strange demon school where all of your peers are so much scarier and larger than you and now you’ve been presented with whatever the hell this is for dinner.

You think Leviathan (Levi — it feels so odd referring to him so casually having just met him) was the one that made it.  There was a protein on the plate, you ate that with no issues, but. 

Urgh. This?

It’s your second night sleeping in the House of Lamentation and you don’t feel nearly comfortable or safe enough to get a snack on your own, especially at night. You’ve had such a long day at RAD and your body is dying for some food.

Disguising your disgusted reluctance with a carefully blank face, your grab some of the.  The stuff. 

Ah, nope.  You set your fork down quietly after taking a slow bite / swallow and grab your cup to drown the leftover flavors and textures.  

Luckily all the demon brothers seem pretty into their dinnertime banter and didn’t notice your… less than satisfactory reaction to the food.

Gosh, you don’t want to offend any of them, especially not so early on in the year you’ll have to room with them.  

It’s a good thing that Beelzebub is practically a food vacuum and doesn’t question the nearly untouched pile of. Well you know. Left over on your plate.

/

…It’s official. You hate Devildom cuisine.  

Is the universe playing one big, cruel joke on you?  What the hell is wrong with demons?  Why must the eat the worst things in the world?  Why… why… why?

Lucifer wouldn’t let you starve under his roof, and provides you with full meals and makes it clear what parts of the kitchen are free to raid (as not to take anything designated to anyone else).  You feel like the most ungrateful human in the whole wide world right now.

It’s been quite a few months since the start of the exchange program and you’ve been… getting by.  Okay, that’s not exactly true, you’ve been having a blast in most aspects of your stay in the Devildom.  Most.

There’s still the teeny tiny issue of the cuisine not quite fitting your tastes.  You’ve tried talking to Solomon about the Devildom cuisine and he tried to cheer you up with some authentic human world cuisine, but as it turns out his cooking is far worse than Devildom-style food.

Not to be dramatic, but you’re suffering in silence.  You get by, as in you’re not hungry – the demons you’ve grown oh so fond of wouldn’t let that happen.  They always seem willing to fetch you anything.  

You’re trying so hard not to hurt any feelings, because you love them and want to support them.  It’s just.  You want to throw up almost every meal.  (Barbatos’ little treats have been your saving grace – he always seems to have some yummy little snack on him.  One that you like and doesn’t make you feel like your throat is crawling out of your mouth.)

Most of the time the brothers don’t pay much thought to what you leave on your plate – as long as you eat some of what was served they seem content.  Even on nights where the meal is more nasty than good, it’s easy to just say you’re not that hungry.

This night was bound to happen at some point.  Your plate is uneatable.  It’s edible, just uneatable.  It’d be more humiliating to choke down a few bites than it is to go to bed hungry.  You wrinkle your nose when you think no one is looking and stab at the meat chunk.

Your eyes are downcast and you drag your knife lazily through the food.  It’s mesmerizing in a way, so much so that you don’t notice at first when Asmo calls your name.

“MC, is something wrong? Are you feeling alright?”  At this point he’s drawn the attention of his brothers as well.

“Yeah, you’re barely eating,” Mammon supplies.

Ah, the moment you’ve been dreading and hoped you would never have to face.

“Oh, I don’t have much of an appetite right now.”  Which certainly isn’t a lie.  

“You didn’t eat much at lunch, hon.” Asmo reaches across the table to put the back of his manicured hand on your forehead to feel for a fever.

You cringe, “uhm, well.  I’m.”  You fail to think of a decent lie quick enough – nothing you say will be believable as you mentally blue screen.

“Honest answer?”  Satan prods.

“I’m not the biggest fan of some Devildom foods.” “Not the biggest fan?”  Beel questions, “you dislike them enough to forgo eating entirely.”  

“I’m trying not to sound like an ungrateful jerk right now.  Give me a moment to word this properly.”

Satan scoffs. “Just say it.  Whatever you have to say can’t be worse than what we’ve put you through.”

“Damn, okay.  The food makes me wanna throw up when I eat it.”

Levi, the chef of the night, folds in on himself, face darkening with shame or embarrassment.

“It’s not a personal gripe, most meals have something that makes me feel that way, hon.” It seems your attempt to comfort him isn’t appreciated though, as Levi shoves his face in his hands.

Lucifer sets his fork down. “And why haven’t you said anything to any of us about this?  We want you to feel at home here.”

“You can’t expect me to be comfortable barging into what was at the time a strangers house and demand they make special accommodations for me, then once I was comfortable enough to say something I felt I put up with it long enough that it’d be odd to bring it up out of nowhere.”

“Fair enough,” Satan nods along.

“No? Not ‘fair enough’!” Mammon scolds.  “You shoulda said something to me!  Do you even like half the snacks I give you?  I spent good Grimm on those!”

Memories of bribing Beelzebub to do certain errands in the earlier days of your Devildom stay flicker through your mind.  “They got eaten.”

“MC,” Lucifer brings the conversation back on track.  “Let us know foods you don’t want to eat, we may be demons, but we’re here to provide you with a comfortable stay.”  You nod under his sincere gaze.  “Now, give your plate to Beel and order some delivery.  I’ll cover the costs, as long as you eat.”  

As you shove your plate across the table you see Lucifer pulling a shiny black card from his coat pocket.  He gestures for you to come and take it.  You walk to the head of the table and he presses the card into your hand. 

“Order whatever you’d like.  My treat.”  There’s a glint of humor in his eyes and you look down to see Goldie in your palm.

[codfanficedits]

Cheating Ghost, full version.

I've always posted this in the parts as I wrote them, this is the full story. This story came to mind after I've suffered childhood abuse, and now my brother is following in the footsteps of my father.

Also, happy birthday to me.

CW: Domestic Violence, mentions of sex/describing sexual acts, mentions of rape.

18+ MDNI.

Ghost POV:

My hands on her hips, my lips leaving hickeys on her neck, my hard cock against her stomach. It all felt so right. Expect she wasn’t you. She was better than you, sexier, hotter, willing to try all the positions you wouldn’t do. She looked at me with the most hypnotizing eyes when I called her a good girl, those same eyes sparked when I called her my filthy slut. She was everything you couldn’t be for me. The first few times I felt incredibly guilty, I would spent minutes watching over you when you slept, cursing myself for being so weak, but as time passed, my heart stopped aching. Instead your flaws were showing even more. I knew you too well for you to be ever exciting again, I knew the way your lips tasted, the way your body felt on mine, I could predict your every move.

It took me 2 extra days to come home to you again. I had been dreading the moment, waiting until the very last moment to come home. Her smell still wrapped around my body as I set foot into our bedroom.

YOUR POV:

You and Ghost have been together for three years. You moved across the country for him, 10 days after you met him. You had been at his side ever since. You were there after the good missions, the bad missions and the failed mission. You were there to kiss his bruises, to hold him while he cried about a fallen teammate, you were there to celebrate every success he had in his career.

But lately things had changed. His mission taking longer than you were used to, him being more distant, no longer sharing the details of a mission with you. The first few weeks you tried to ignored it, thought it was because of a bad mission, but after a while you couldn’t ignore it anymore. Something was going on. Ghost was away on a mission when you received a text from one of his teammates, telling you he had seen Ghost leave with another woman. It left your heart shattered. You wouldn’t believe it at first, Ghost would never do this to you. But you knew it would fit, it was the missing piece of information to tie all of his odd behaviour together. You tried to ignore it at first, until the place you used to call home, was no longer appealing to return to. You could hear him set foot into the bedroom. You waited, pretending to sleep so you wouldn’t have to face him. He just stood there, as if he was waiting for you to make the first move. “Hey..” You said, making your voice sound hoarse. “How long have you been standing there?” You ask him.

“I was just admiring the view.” He answered. The fucking liar. You kick back the blankets and pat on the bed. “Come here, I’ve missed you.”

He starts to undress, and you pretend you don’t see the hickeys on his happy trail. Looking at it makes me feel sick. He slides in to bed with me, and you can feel the distance. “How was the mission?” You ask, your fingertips caressing his jawline, like you always do. “Oh you know, same old, same old.” He tells you. You can smell her on him, her perfume smells floral and expensive. He didn’t even have the respect for you to at least take a shower before coming home to you. You roll over to your other side, “let’s go to sleep, you must be tired, baby.” You say.

He wraps his arm around you, pulling you close and kissing your neck. Her perfume invading your bed, his erection pressed against you. “How about we have some fun first, hm?”

 You don’t know what makes you feel sicker. “I’m really tired, sorry.” You say, being too disgusted to even feel horny.

“Fine.” His voice got cold and he rolled away from you, refusing to touch you. Fine.

Your mind was racing, trying to make up a good excuse for him, it was trying to diffuse the situation. Surely there must be a logical explanation? He had fallen asleep next to you, you were wondering how he even could sleep at night. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe he.. Maybe he.. But your mind couldn’t come up with a good reason, it was way to easy to connect the dots. But you needed to know for sure.

You saw the screen of his phone light up. Bingo.

Careful to not wake him, you got up from bed, slowly taking his phone from the nightstand, trying to not make a sound. You snuck his phone into the bathroom, you tried to unlock it, his passcode was your birthday for ages. Access denied. You frown, maybe you made a mistake typing it. You try again, this time even more careful. Access denied.        

Fuck.

You decided to type his own birthday, maybe he just happened to change it? It worked. As you scrolled through the messages you couldn’t really find anything. Soap sending him some memes. Captain Price reacting with two thumbs on everything Ghost send him. Gaz sending him pictures of food. Even their group chat was innocent.

You scrolled through everything. Until you found a hidden folder with pictures. Your eyes widened by the view. The pictures started looking innocent. Just some nudes, nothing too special. You could live with this.

Then they became more graphic. She was sitting on her knees, her tongue stuck out, semen on her face. You guess whose it was. You swiped again. It was her again, lying on a bed, looking at the camera with her hungry eyes.

A video. Against your better judgement you click on it. Your heart drops when you do so. He was fucking her like there was no tomorrow. She was on all fours, her face down, her ass up. You could tell by his pace that he was about to cum.

She helped it put it in again when it slipped out of her. It made you sick to your stomach. Yet you can’t stop watching. You’re torturing yourself. You can see his thick semen being shot on her back. You could imagine him grunting while he did so. You watch it again, pressing the volume button once. The sounds made you sick to your stomach, but your eyes were glued to the screen. The grunting was as you imagined, they were dancing with her moans. His voice cracked when he called her beautiful and you could feel your heart shatter.

A large hand slaps the phone out of your hand. “Do you always snoop through phones that aren’t yours?” A deep voice growled.

“Simon, what the fuck is this?” You ask. “What the FUCK is this?’ You yell at him.

“Oh come on, it’s nothing big.” He answered. “I’ve always been there for you!” You start to raise your voice again. “With every mission, good or bad. I have ALWAYS been by your side.”

His hand grabs your wrist. “Are you going to fucking behave?” He hisses in your ear. “Quit being a fucking drama queen.”

“Why? How could you?” Your voice sound defeated. He laughs at you. “Oh come on. You became boring. I can tell how you react at everything. It’s no longer exciting or new anymore.” He scoffs. He takes a step towards you. “Did you really think I loved you? Jezus Christ, you’re so fucking naïve.”

His words cut through you like knifes. Part of you wanted to change for him, be a more exciting person, anything so he wouldn’t leave you. But you weren’t stupid. You knew there was no coming back from this.

“I need you to get the fuck out of here.” You hissed. “Go sleep at Price or something.”

It was his laugh that sent the shivers down your spine. “I have to get out of here? Do I need to remind you this is my house? Take the few fucking things you own and get out before I kick you out.”

With tears in your eyes you grabbed your bag. You stuffed it with some clothes, your phone, your laptop and your wallet. He is right behind you when you walked out. Not saying a word to you. When you turned around to beg him to let you stay, his cold eyes told you enough. He slammed the door in your face. Leaving you all alone.

Ghost POV:

Of course I didn’t want it to end like this. She was always the safe option, but at least something was better than nothing.

I grab my phone, calling the girl I had been fucking for the past few months. A frustrated grunt leaves my throat when she doesn’t pick up. So I call again, and again until she finally picks up.

“What the fuck do you want?” She hisses at me. “It’s fucking 4 in the morning.” I let out an amused chuckle. I loved it when she was so feisty. “My girlfriend is gone for the night, and I don’t expect her home until noon. Care to come around?” I asked her. It’s quiet at the other side of the line and it is making me feel rejected. I hate that fucking feeling. “Well?” I ask, trying to hide the annoyance in my tone.

“You have a girlfriend?” The woman on the other side hissed. “You’re such a fucking pathetic man.”

I was taken aback by her reaction, where did she get the nerve to trat me like this? After all, she was nothing more than my toy. A toy I used to pass the time, but she didn’t let me answer her, her angry rant going on. “You’re a horrible, horrible man, if I had known you had a girl waiting for you, I would’ve never let you touch me.” She continued. “Lose the number, you fucking asshole.”

She hung up on me. The fucking bitch had the audacity to hang up on me? I scoffed. I didn’t need a stupid fucking toy anyway. I had you to come back to. After all, you always came back to me, no matter how much I fucked up.

I sat down on the couch, my fingers lingering over the screen of my phone. Fuck it.

“When are you coming home?” I texted you.

5 minutes. Five whole minutes had passed and you still didn’t text me back. Usually you’d text me back within seconds, like a fucking needy dog.

“Listen, I’m sorry you feel this way. I can change. I promise” I texted you again.

8 minutes. It had been eight minutes since my first text, and you didn’t hadn’t sent me anything back. It caused me to pace around my living room like a caged animal.

“Please come home, I miss you.” I texted, once more. It started to irritate me that you didn’t answer, but I couldn’t let you know.

14 minutes. The anger was getting to me. What the fuck were you doing? It was 4:28AM. You couldn’t possibly be doing something useful.

“Get your fucking ass home.”

???? POV:

He had known Ghost was a cheater, but he always tried to ignore it. Until he met you. God, you were gorgeous. It pained him that you only had eyes for Ghost. He fell in love with you the first time he met you. The way you walked, talked, your smile. Your beauty was out of this world.

But of course you were in love with Ghost. Ghost was everything he wasn’t. Mysterious, handsome, tall, confident, a deep, hoarse voice. So he hid in the shadows. He wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him.

But the guilt began to eat at him when Ghost started cheating on you, bringing some blondie back to the base after a mission. Her loud moans filling the empty halls. He couldn’t ignore it anymore after Ghost had brought back the second girl, but he was to afraid to tell you. It took him two more years to finally find the courage to tell you. He couldn’t even do it face to face. No, he texted you, like a coward.

But he had finally told you and that is what mattered.

He started to hate Ghost for this. The idiot had the most precious woman in the world and he tossed it out of the window for a little thrill.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw your text. You’d gone through his phone, and now he had kicked you out?

Damn.

A feeling of guilt washed over him, if he hadn’t told you, you’d be safe and sound in your bed, not wandering the streets at 4 in the morning.

He texted you his address, offering you a place to come to if you were lonely.

Your POV:

You felt alone. So god damn alone. You’d left everything, everyone behind to move in with Simon.

There was nothing you wanted more than to get back to Simon, to feels his strong arms around you again, but you weren’t stupid. You knew those arms would never feel like home again. You knew you’d never trust him again. The common sense in your body told you, you were worth too much to worry about him, but the love you felt for him tried to prove your common sense wrong, still. You could change for him, right? You could try to be less boring, to be less predictable.

A nearby bench in the park became your new place to stay, just so you could gather your thoughts. The bag you’d been carrying with you got dropped on the ground. A big sigh followed. How does one even go from here? Back to Simon was not an option, you refused to be his second choice.

Your phone buzzed. It was Simon, asking you when you would come home. Your heart skipped a beat. He still cared about you. Of course he did, otherwise he wouldn’t be texting you! You’re trying to convince yourself, but it’s not working. Something is different. For once, your love ending didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

You fidget with your phone, ignoring the messages that come rolling in. You pressed the phone against your lips, your mind working overtime. What was it that you wanted?

After what seemed like forever you make a decision. You don’t want to be alone, not right now, so you decide to text him. Not Simon, no, he wasn’t worthy of your presence. You text the person who tipped you, after all, he had always told you he would be there for you if you needed him. It takes every ounce of your selfcontrol to not text him the whole story, so you give him a short update. 3,5 minutes. That’s how long it took for him to answer you. It’s just his address, and you take it as an invite that you’re welcome. As you open the navigation on your phone, it shows you that it is just a ten minute walk. Perfect for you to clear your head, so you wouldn’t be all in your feelings when you got to him.

It's 5:25 AM and the sun is starting to rise again. For a moment the world doesn’t seem so bad after all.

Your hands shake as you ring the doorbell. The door swings open almost immediately.

Johnny.

Ghost POV:

I was starting to lose it. You’d come online, but you didn’t read my texts? How dare you? Where the fuck do you think you have the audacity from to ignore me?

I texted you again.

“At least have some fucking respect and answer me.”

An uneasy feeling starts to linger in my stomach, causing me to pace around the living room. What if you really did decide to leave this time? No, you wouldn’t. I was sure of that. But then why didn’t you answer me?

No it shouldn’t bother me this much. I can just go to the bar and pick up a better version of you, a prettier one, a more adventurous one. Then you did the thought of you leaving me sting so much?

I lose my temper, and an empty teacup flings across the room, against the wall. The brown liquid dripping down.

A few deep breaths and I should be okay again. Wrong.

The uneasy feeling in my chest stays and there is nothing that I can do against it. Why would you do this to me? Why did you have to make things so hard? Why couldn’t you just come home when I asked you to?

God, you’re being a pain in my ass right now. Making such a fuss, and for what? Because I had a little fun? That was your fault really, you had always been a little boring, why couldn’t you just be a little spicier in life.

And now your behaviour is making me feel bad? I don’t think so. I sent you a final text.

“You’re gonna get it when you get home.”

Soap POV:

He was waiting in the living room for her, nearly falling over his own feet as he made his way to the front door. The sight of you standing there, with your broken heart is the hardest thing he had to watch.

‘Even in her agony, God is jealous of her beauty.’ Soap pushed that thought away, he wasn’t here to hit on you, he was here to be the friend you needed. He stepped aside to let you in. “It’s not much, but it’s safe.” He said, gesturing around his living room. It was clear a single man lived here, the pizza box from last night still on the table, his dirty socks and shoes next to the couch. A sheepish smile on his face, hoping that you wouldn’t judge him too much.

He was mesmerized by your eyes, but he could see the sadness, the hurt in them, and it made his heart ache.

He signalled for you to sit on the couch, handing you a beer, his own in his hand, as he took place in his recliner, wanting to keep a distance. There was a silence between the two of you, but to him it didn’t feel awkward at all. It felt like coming safe home after a long, stressful day.

He glanced over at you. You looked so fragile on his couch, a large pillow being used as a shield, as your gaze met his. A nervous smile.

Your phone buzzed, and he could see it was from Ghost, his eyes narrowing as he read the text. “At least have some fucking respect and answer me.”

But you were strong and you didn’t pay any mind to his text, you tossed the phone next to you and met his gaze once more.

Then the words started to pour out, and you told him everything. How you couldn’t believe it at first, how you finally started to connect the dots. How Ghost dared to come home smelling like another woman, the video you had watched. He took an occasional sip from his beer every now and then.

With every full sentence he could see your mind working overtime, telling you to not go back to that relationship anymore. It made his heart beat faster in his chest.

As if it’s natural the conversation shifts to a lighter one, as if you want to leave Ghost and the darkness that he brings with him in the past, and Soap was happy to oblige.

You tell him about your job, your hobbies, your favourite crystals and he takes in all the information as if it is the most important thing he has ever heard.

Your phone buzzed again and the both of you look at it at the same time.

“You’re gonna get it when you get home.”

Those words made Soap’s stomach drop, he had always known that Ghost had a temper, a bad one, but even this felt low for Ghost. He looked over at you, expecting to see fear in your face, but instead you just laughed. As if you were freed from the chackles Ghost had put on you.

“Shit.” Your voice sounded like giggle. “I should really put him in his place for speaking to me in this tone.”

‘God, her laugh could light up a room without trying.’

No stop, he shouldn’t think like that.

Maybe it was the beer talking, maybe it was the lack of common sense from the whole situation, but he had an idea. An idea that would put Ghost in his place.

“Come with me.” Soap told you, as he made him way to his bedroom. It was surprisingly tidy compared to his living room. Sure, the bed wasn’t made, and his backpack was casually tossed into the corner, and now that he looked around, his nightstand were a mess too. But the dirty socks were limited to the bathroom only and that was something.

“I need you to trust me, I’m not a pervert, I promise.” Soap was rambling, a treat he had when he got nervous. He swallowed some air before he started explaining. “I need you to get on my bed on all fours, I promise I won’t look okay.” The rambling continued.

You didn’t even question it, you just did what he asked you to do. He took a step closer to your ass, his breathing getting hard to control. “Look at the wall.” He muttered. The shadow being rather, suggestive.

‘Life was an artist and you were the fucking masterpiece.’

He couldn’t help but look down at you, the sight of you presenting yourself like this, God it got him hard, the blood going straight to his growing erection. He dug his nails into the palm of his hand, he had to contain himself.

You handed him your phone, allowing him to take a picture. If he didn’t know any better the shadow suggested he was actually fucking you. The thought of how tight you would be, how good you would take it, it was flooding his mind. Shit shit shit. He needed to stop.

He handed you your phone back, stepping aside, it would drive him insane if he kept looking at your ass.

Soap looked over your shoulder as you sent Ghost the picture. A grin on your face when you started to type.

‘Sorry, I was busy.’

Ghost POV:

It has been more than a fucking hour since I’ve sent my last text, and yet you lack the fucking respect to answer me. You’re a fucking worthless waste of air.

I look over at the table when my phone buzzed. “Sorry, I was busy?” I repeat your text to myself. My fingers are quick to open the picture you sent me.

My phone buzzed. A text from you.

No, no, no, no, NO.

I could feel my stomach drop from that picture. You’re a fucking disgusting slut and you know it. How the fuck dare you? After all we’ve been together you’re throwing us away like this? How fucking dare you?

My anger gets the best of me. I want you to be hurt. I want to take away the things you like. I want to see you cry, beg me for the mercy you don’t deserve.

In a blind rage I pull out the cutlery drawer in the kitchen, I was looking for some scissors but couldn’t find them, so I took our kitchen knife. The fucking stuffed animal I had won for you at the fair was the first to go. God it felt so good to take my anger out on something. Besides, who the fuck has a stuffed unicorn?

The rest of your clothes became my second target, a maniacal laugh leaving my throat as I could hear the fabric rip under the force of my knife. Shit it felt good, too good even. For a second I would imagine you there instead of your clothes and the rage would leave my body, but it’s temporary, I want to destroy you.

If I can’t have you, no one should have you.

My hands tremble when I look at the picture again. My eyes widen when I recognize the room, I recognize his fucking backpack, the idiotic sunglasses on his fucking nightstand.

God fucking damn.

My best fucking friend. The fucking son of a bitch.

Where the fuck did the two of you get the fucking nerve to betray me like this?

Granted, Soap had been more distance towards me since I’ve started to cheat on you, but he never had a problem with it during my last relationship. This must’ve been his idea. Letting you catch me cheating, so I’m the bad guy, while you’re getting your pussy pounded by that fucking traitor.

I’m angry, furious even. Part of me wants to take the knife and stab the both of you, watching as the life leaves your eyes. I can feel the rage boil inside of me.

A sudden wave of relief washes over me. I know what I have to do.

I leave the knife in our matrass, I don’t even grab my jacket. I know the way to his house, it’s a short walk and I know what I’ll find when I get there. You all loveydovey in his arms, as the goddamn slut that you are.

The walk there pisses me off even more, it gives me the time to think about you, about that fucking traitor of a man I used to call a friend.

My fists bang on the door. “Soap! I know you’re in there with this filthy whore.” My voice is a mere bark.

“Be a fucking man and face me.”

Your POV:

You had nearly forgotten about Simon. Not really obviously, you knew you still had to face him one day. Half of your belongings were still at that house. But for now, for now you could forget him. Soap’s bedroom was filled with laughter, you had more in common than you thought, memories, hobbies, even the same dishes you liked.

Although he liked olives, and the mere thought of them was enough to make you shudder.

Soap was in the middle of a story about Captain Price, something about his hidden porn stash when three loud bangs made the both of you quiet. It was unmistaken who’s voice it was. It felt as if a hand had reached out to your throat, squeezing it shit. Your eyes pleaded to Soap, begging him to stay in his bedroom with you. Surely Simon would leave, right? Right?

The banging got louder, more violent, his profanities carrying out over the street. All you wanted was for the ground to break open and swallow you whole.

“I have to face him.”

“What? No Johnny that’s ridiculous.”

“He won’t leave, I can just explain what happened. I’ll tell him you don’t want to see him.”

“But he sounds dangerous.”

“I’ve known him for years, lass. I’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You couldn’t ignore the knot in your stomach, the horrible feeling as if something was bound to happen, Soap had closed the door behind him, as if he wanted to shield you from what was about to happen. You hid away in the corner, your knees brought up to your chest, as if you wanted to make yourself as tiny as possible.

You could hear the door open. Soap’s voice was the first to be heard. “Hey man, I know this looks ba-“ His sentence got cut short.

Something was happening, but you couldn’t make out what it was. The closed door muffled the sounds to much.

Yet the sounds of a person falling was clear to you. A man begging another man to stop, the faint sound of fists hitting their target.

Your bag.

It was still on the couch, you knew it was there, all you could do was to pray that Simon didn’t find it.

Your mind was racing, where had you put your phone? You knew it was in this room, somewhere, you had used it to text him that picture.

Oh god, why did you do that?

This was all happening because you just had to be petty. Johnny was getting murdered and you were having a pity party. Selfish bitch.

You had to find that fucking phone. Call someone. Call the police even.

But you were too scared. Afraid that if you were to move, Simon would hear you and come for you.

The sounds of footsteps on the stairs snapped you out of it. You wanted it to be Soap, you really did, but you knew it was Simon. “I know you’re in there you fucking filthy slut!”

You pressed yourself against the wall, hoping that you could blend in, maybe disappear while you’re at it.

The bedroom door swings open, and the man before you is no longer the man you once loved. His eyes are wide, his nostrils flared, a predator looking at his prey.

You can hear the soft groans coming from downstairs. You want to escape, you want to leave, but your body betrays you.

“Simon, I, I, I.” You start to stutter. His hands grab a handful of hair, forcing you to look up at him.

“You really thought you were smart, huh?” He hisses through his gritted teeth. He lets go of your hair, and for a second you think you can breathe. That was a mistake.

His right fist hits you, then his left, right, left, right, left, right. Until you start to lose count.

You hold up your arms to defend yourself, but it’s useless. He is trained to do this, and you’re his target.  

You start to beg him, beg him for your life, but you can tell he is enjoying this, your tears, the fear in your eyes, it is nothing but fuel to his anger.

His hands grab your hair again, dragging you towards the bed. You’re too stunned, too terrified to even react.

The sound of his zipper going down makes your eye widen in fear. “I’ll show you who the fuck you belong to.” He hisses at you.

It is Soap who stumbles into the room that make the both of you look up. God. He looks horrible, he looks as if he was dragged through hell and back. The pain is visible in his eyes, the blood on his face, the red marks on his body.

A broken promise.

Ghost let’s out an annoyed grunt. “I’ll take care of our little problem.” He whispers into your ear. His voice, the tone, the words, it sends shivers down your spine. The sound of his zipper going back up is a blessing and a curse.

You’re safe, for now.

You can only watch in horror when you can see Ghost make his way over to Soap. You want to react. Your mind is screaming at you to do something. But your body can’t.

It seemed as if time was slowing down. The sunset slowing illuminating the room you’re in. The tension in the thick air. It looks like a horrible nightmare, one you wish to wake up from.

You’re held captive by your own body and mind. No control over what you’re thinking or doing, it makes you feel helpless.

Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breaths. Snap out of that freeze response, no more freezing. You need to fight or you need to get out. Go. Go. Go.

Your body handles on it’s own, despite the pain you’re in, you manage to get up, stumbling over your own feet.

Get out or fight.

It’s the gunshot that follows next, that puts you into freeze again.

Your POV:

Ghost looked at his hands, he was visibly confused by the blood on them. His blood?

Your hands are shaking, your mind goes back to a date you and Ghost went on 2,5 years ago.

It was a sunny day, and he was so excited to take you there. He had been talking about it for a few weeks and you finally decided to give in.

Who would have thought a silly little date to a shooting range would save your life one day?

Not you, not Ghost.

You had spotted the gun in Soap’s backpack, the will to survive took over, your body snapping out of your freeze mode before your mind was able to.

“That’s a good lass.” A Scottish accent broke the silence.

Ghost dropped to his knees, his hands pressing on the gunshot wound. So much was happening at once, yet you tried to take control over the situation once again. Your hands tremble as you load another bullet into the chamber.

“Stay down or I’ll fucking shoot again.” Oh how you try to be confident, but the words are a mere whisper as the tears start to roll down your cheek. You try not to choke on your shallow breaths.

The tension in the air is horrible. You can tell Soap is holding on for dear life, not knowing how to continue. You can tell that Ghost is defeated, as if the shot held a mirror in front of him, he was no better than his father and he knew it.

And you, standing there. Holding on to that pistol for dear life, your knuckles white from the tight grip.

A few loud bangs, a loud voice, a small army of police men joining you in the room, the rest of the day a blur.

You didn’t exactly look innocent, holding a loaded weapon, pointing it to an already wounded man.

And God, for the first time you felt lucky. You could show the texts he had sent you, the way he had torn up the place you used to call home, you had only shot him once, and it was a non-lethal shot.. It all ruled in your favour, the judges ruled it self-defence.

Ghost on the other hand didn’t get as lucky, all the evidence pointed in his direction, even after you’d shot him.

Although the sentence he got was a joke.

Sixty days.

He would spent two months in jail for traumatizing you, for harming you, for destroying what belonged to you, for harming Soap, for making your home feel unsafe.

Just sixty days.

But, for sixty whole days you felt safe. You knew he wouldn’t be lurking around the corner, you knew that for sixty whole days you could breathe again.

Ghost POV:

I lost it all. And for what? For a little toy, for a little smile, for a little weak moment. Sixty goddamn days of my life.

It wasn’t even worth it. It made me lose the job I worked so hard for. Price didn’t want to hear shit after I got my sentence. I tried to explain how it wasn’t really my fault. After all, you and Soap had planned this. No matter how innocent you tried to act in court. I knew what had happened.

I really tried to live with my anger. I had to go to therapy, but that was a waste of my fucking time. I have one little outburst and all of the sudden I am the problem?

I had to sell the house, because of you. Everything reminded me of you, at night I thought I saw you stand in the doorway, I swear I could hear your footsteps, your laugh, your voice. But you were never there. It haunted me, you know that? So I sold it, bought another house. Tried to forget about you. The money I had made during my time in the military, it lasted me a long time. I didn’t have to work, no I could drown my sorrows in liquor and hookers. The funny thing was, money doesn’t last, just like we didn’t.

And I really tried. I tried to get new jobs, but they would never last. God, people are morons and I just cannot deal with them. Do you know how hard it is to keep your house when you’re not able to keep a goddamn job? And furthermore, do you know how hard it is to keep a relationship when you’re not able to hold a job, when the bills are stacking up?

God, and even if I could hold a job, I’m not able to keep a relationship, I keep searching for a piece of you. Even when they’re a perfect match, they’re still not you.

I hate myself for letting you go, I crave how predictable you were, I crave your touch, your voice, you.

Yet at the same time, I am so angry at you for taking everything from me. I deserve better than this. You took everything I worked so hard for.

The anger is tucked away, for now. It reappears whenever I hit the bottle. Everything I’ve been holding in comes out then. It’s not a pretty sight when I get my shit together again, it makes me feel ashamed.

Your little action has made me unable to look into the mirror. I see my fathers eyes whenever my eyes linger to long on the man I see in the mirror. I became what I hated the most and I can only blame you for it.

I even tried to make up with the last woman, the one you found the video of. I went to her house, tried to explain myself. I even apologised for calling her my toy. She had the audacity to laugh at me. She told me to fuck right off. Hell, she even pulled her girlfriend to her side when I asked for a second chance. It left me broken. Not even my back up wanted me anymore.

Lately I’ve been wandering the streets, as a soul without a purpose. I avoid the large windows, I cannot stand to see my reflection in them, the shell of the man I was supposed to be. I had such a good life ahead of me, but it was all ruined. My days are filled with sorrow and time is slipping through my fingers.

It is a good day, a beautiful day, so I decide to go to the park, maybe it would ease my mind, before I would go home and get drunk again. I wander around in the park, aimlessly, the sun on my skin is a nice feeling, it beats the feeling of feeling sorry for myself.

My heart skips a beat when I see you. You’re standing close to the water, and I can’t tell what you’re saying to the man in front of you, but you look happy. The clothes you’re wearing fit your body perfectly, and truth be told, you look better than you’ve ever looked before.

God I miss you. I miss you so goddamn much. I start to make my way over to you, I want to talk to you, maybe there is a new chance for us to be together. The guy you’re with can suck it, I can show you what you deserve.

My blood runs cold when I see the man in front of you go down on one knee.

No.

Your POV:

You never stepped foot into that house again, you tried, but the tea stained wall was enough for you to back down. All your belongings you had left behind were things you could replace.

But that wasn’t your biggest worry. Soap had risked his life for you, and for what? Because you needed to prove a point to Simon? You felt so, so, so goddamn guilty. Luckly for the both of you, Soap ‘only’ had two broken ribs, a black eye and a few other bruises. You both knew it could have ended different.

Soap was a kind soul, and you knew it. He offered you a place to stay when you couldn’t go back to the place you once called home. He insisted on taking the couch, even with his injuries. He insisted that you were the one who deserved to sleep in his bed after everything you had been through.

In return you made him breakfast every day. The man was a sucker for fresh pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, maple syrup. All of them together, or just one of those things. It didn’t matter to him, as long as it was something you had cooked, this man was content.

What started as just breakfast, quickly became dinner too, lunch followed shortly  after. Although Soap slept on the couch, he wouldn’t hesitate to come running up the stairs when he could hear you having a nightmare, eventually you’d start having flashbacks of that morning. The events repeating themselves in your mind time after time, leaving you frozen in place.

Soap was there for you, no questions asked. He was on medical leave anyway, and he wanted to care for you, protect you. He would always be there when the nightmares or flashbacks started. Holding you, grounding you, bringing you back into reality every time.

After one particular flashback the two of you stayed on the couch, even though it was late at night. You didn’t dare to go to sleep, worried that the nightmares would keep you up again, and Soap wasn’t going to let you out of his sight.

The next thing you knew was that you woke up with him in your arms. His head resting on your shoulder as you held him tight. The best part of it all? It never felt awkward. When he finally woke up he had a boyish grin on his face.

“Best night of sleep I’ve had in a while.” He told you, before he gave you some space again. “How about I make you some pancakes this time?”

You had always thought that Ghost made you feel at home, but Soap.. Holy shit, Soap was something else. When the night fell that day and it was time to go to bed you held your hand out to him, he didn’t have to sleep on the couch anymore. Not if it was up to you anyway.

You could tell he was hesitant to take your hand. “I want you to, no, I need you to know you don’t have to do this to pay me back in any way, shape or form.” He began. You shushed him. This wasn’t about paying him back, this was about the feeling that had began to grow inside your heart.

He responded with a simple kiss on your nose. A token of appreciation.

It was the start of something beautiful, Soap was so much kinder than Ghost had ever been to you. Because it was Soap who woke you up with a thousand and one kisses on every inch of skin he could get his hands on, it was Soap who made sure you were always comfortable, no matter where you were or what you were doing. It was Soap who made sure you would at least get a text every day when he was on a mission, it was Soap who hid little love notes around the house when he was away.

Soap brought you stones from the missions he had been on, always proudly telling you how he picked the prettiest rocks, just for you. Even when he was away on missions, he always made sure you never, ever felt lonely.

He had just come home after he went to a little bakery to get you both breakfast, so you could sleep in.

“I saw some ducklings in the park when I walked back.” He told you, before he took a bite of his croissant.

“Really?” Your voice is filled with excitement. “Can we check them out after breakfast?”

“Only if I get a kiss first.”

“Deal!”

“Ah shoot, I should’ve asked for more.” The Scot pouted while he stole your last piece of pastry.

“Hey! That was mine.”

“Sorry lass, boyfriend tax.” He grinned as he swallowed the stolen bite.

“Now.” A devilish grin formed on his lips. “You still owe me a kiss.”

A laugh escapes your lips before he kisses you, his strong arms wrapped around you, as your hands rest on his waist. “That was worth all the ducklings in the world.” He whispers to you as he presses a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Come little lass, before those ducklings are fully grown ducks.”

He doesn’t let go off your hand for the whole walk to the park, the two of you walk in silence, and it’s nice. His presence is enough for you, and you are enough for him.

You look around the little pond to see a glimpse of the promised ducklings, but they are nowhere to be seen. You have your back turned to him, as your eyes scan the area.

“They’re gone.” Your voice sounds disappointed. “Well damn it, I want that kiss back Jo-“ Your breath hitches in your throat when you turn around to face him.

There he is, on one knee in front of you, a little black box in his hand.

“Will you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

[vigilskeep]

if she has the kid the latest she could pre-kirkwall, i.e a newborn in 9:30, then the kid would be (a) 1 when her mom goes to the deep roads (b) 7 when anders blows up the chantry (c) 11-12 during the events of inquisition (d) 14 during trespasser and (e) 22 in veilguard! hope that helps 😊

(although it does add some fun and delicious nuance? angst? crunch? to anders blowing up the chantry…)

( also also; leaving your living sibling behind to care for the baby maybe? depending on your hawke’s uuh… trust? i guess? in leaving the kid with leandra and gamlen)

despite what i am being put through here i do appreciate that other people are doing timeline maths for me because i would not do that by myself. also: what the hell

this au always adds crunch to anders, from him simply getting to see a kid grow up free in a mage family, to him potentially helping tutor them if they’re a mage and wrestling with whether or not he can trust himself do that considering the choices he’s made. and yes the decision to blow up the chantry and finally start the conflict has added Flavour, because endangering and uprooting everyone includes this kid he loves who’s already been uprooted so many times! but it’s also because he is willing to do whatever it takes for the world to be better for them! makes me feel crazy. (i think da2 really suffers thematically from children being largely absent and putting one front and centre does a lot for it)

i don’t think hawke would have a problem with leaving the kid with leandra? this is for the deep roads expedition, i assume? despite the severity of her depression in act 1, she is an experienced parent and i have to assume she would be doing the bulk of the childcare anyway because hawke is, you know, out-hawkeing. it’s not like hawke could bring a baby along for athenril’s smuggling or meeran’s mercenary work for a year, and they’re scraping money together working hard all through act 1, i douht they’re home much. (leandra might even be better off in act 1 for having that to occupy herself with, since a sense of uselessness/powerlessness seems to be at the core of her illness?) i can see hawke leaving the surviving sibling behind to help though, or maybe using that as an excuse for leaving them behind or as a balm for their own worry about leaving the kid

[totallyveryallosexual]

I see a lot of people say that people self diagnose neurodivergence because it's "quirky" or cool or something, which shows a lack of understanding of self diagnosis that I would like to correct.

1. I personally do not think I have autism because I "saw a tiktok and related to it". I think I have autism because I fulfill the diagnostic criteria that I have looked into extensively. I have sensory difficulties. I get overwhelmed by sound, and light, and the wrong fucking texture un my clothes or food. I was made fun of my entire childhood for "taking things too seriously", and I took what people said at face value, because I took things far too literally. I spent my entire childhood figuring out how to act normal, how to say the right thing at the right time so I wouldn't be made fun of or excluded. I am extremely comforted by various types of stimming, but was punished as a child for anything considered fidgety or abnormal. I love biology, and can infodump to you about genetics (special interest) for hours. This is an interest that can be considered abnormal, and it has consumed most of my available brain space for many years. Also, every single autistic person I've ever met has clocked me in about five seconds and immediately told me I have autism. The truth is, people don't self-diagnose themselves with a highly stigmatized disorder unless it is seriously impacting their lives.

2. Autism, especially in girls and bipoc, is often missed. If they can learn to mask it, it doesn't get diagnosed. I got straight A's all throughout high school, and I had teachers tell me that they thought I had autism, but that it was probably fine because it didn't impact my academics or my life. Spoiler alert: it did! People think that when a seemingly functional person claims to have autism, they are hopping on a trend, but most of the time, they are suffering. I was depressed and sometimes suicidal before I figured out I had autism. I got called a psychopath for things that should have been recognized as symptoms of autism, and a lot of the time I believed it because I didn't have any other words for myself. Our society is shitty and if you aren't a little cis white boy, it's much harder to get diagnosed.

3. Diagnosis is expensive, and hard to access! A lot of people don't realize that it's a privilege! It costs a lot of money to get diagnosed, money that not everyone can afford. It's also hard to get a diagnosis because of social stigma, especially if you figure out you have some form of neurodivergence under the age of 18. I'm a month shy of being a legal adult, and I know that while I'm working towards it, it will be a while before I can get properly tested and diagnosed. My mother, who would scream if she ever saw me wearing noise cancelling headphones in public, is not going to help me get a diagnosis. My mother, who has thrown what can practically be considered temper tantrums over me stimming (literally just tapping my fingers against each other) is not going to help me get a diagnosis. The children of parents who aren't ready to give up their image of a perfect child and think autism can be wished away don't have the same access to diagnosis as the children of parents who are willing to work with them and contribute financially, and neither does any adult who has gotten through life alright but struggles financially because They Have A Disability!!!

In conclusion, don't shame people who diagnosed themselves. I absolutely think the end goal should always be to work toward a professional diagnosis, but that isn't always feasible for people, and we can't sit around slowly drowning in the meantime. If you are worried about self diagnosed people taking away resources: guess what, there are no resources!

Self-diagnosis shouldn't be quick. It comes after a long time spent diving through symptoms and diagnostic criteria. But it gives people without access to diagnosis the ability to nonetheless understand themselves better. For me, it means being able to say "I'm overstimulated, I'm going to find a quiet place" instead of sitting and suffering. It means being able to say "I'm going to sit on the floor instead of my desk, because that grounds me and stops me from spiralling". It means stimming when I'm overwhelmed, and stopping when I need to, all without shaming myself or thinking of myself as lesser for not being able to do things I was told I should be able to.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Wait; I don’t remember much about some arcs, but the foxy the pirate arc was fun; if you’re willing to do anything with this it would be much appreciated!❤️

It’s about on child lucky/reader during the foxy the pirates where they take the reader during one of the games, trying to win her back. Since she’s a child and has no idea what’s going on, she starts crying and stuff, but once they win her back that she’s so clingy and won’t let go of them to the point where she just holds onto on their legs when they win her back and if they lose again; she starts fighting tooth and nails to not let go.

Or something else. I just want to read more child lucky stuff if you have any! Thank you for reading, have a good day author!

I keep telling myself that I’m not going to spoil Lucky Break… but y’all keep giving me these plot bunnies and I keep caving instantly

When I wrote Get Back Here! I’d only imagined the deaging to be temporary, but now this ask has me thinking about it being permanent and now Lucky has been factory reset into a four year old. It’s a very interesting dynamic to think about. I’m gonna have to write about this some more… I’m hereby calling this the Little Lucky AU

I’ve written something like this about the Foxy Pirates before actually! It was just a short drabble, here, but it’s got a similar vibe. The davy back fights do not mesh well with yanderes, and considering that normal, regular-ass Zoro suggested just killing them and leaving in the anime, I think I underplayed how dangerous yandere Zoro would be tbh

Ok so into the spoilers for Lucky Break. They would not get Lucky at all. Period. Why? Because they couldn’t have come in at a worse point in the story. Don’t get me wrong, the Straw Hats wouldn’t take it well at any point, but by this point in Lucky Break they are unhinged. Skypeia is a really bad time for Lucky, and it really messes with adult Lucky so child Lucky is going to be severely traumatized by it. Enel winds up being the tipping point for the Straw Hats going from low-key yandere to full on yandere. Everything post Skypeia takes on a darker tone to match it and the yandere elements of the story go from subtle to very intense.

By the time they get to Long Ring Long Land, Lucky is looking like she got thrown down a flight of stairs, electrocuted, and strangled. This is concerning to see on an adult, and is horrifying to see on a literal preschooler. The Foxy pirates aren’t even really being malicious when they try to take her, they’re genuinely concerned (and also suffering under the effects of Lucky’s amulet which becomes much more potent post Skypeia). They have a team meeting beforehand and are all like “so we’re gonna take the baby and leave the rest of them behind, right?” and no one disagrees.

But needless to say, all of the Straw Hats are on edge and fucking feral so this concern is not taken well. This was supposed to be a drabble, but as per usual I have no self control and wrote a whole ass chapter basically.

3.9k words

Resisting the urge to pick at your scabs was hard on a good day, but when you were feeling sick to your stomach with nerves, it felt impossible not to do. Not wanting to make Chopper upset, you move your hands to grasp at the brim of Luffy’s hat. Partially to keep your hand busy, and partially to keep it from falling over your eyes again.

You guess it made sense that they wouldn’t let you participate, but that didn’t make having to be separated from your friends any less nerve wracking. Luffy had tried to bring you onto his boat regardless, only relenting when Nami bitterly admitted that they had a point and you would be safer on land. 

Terrified at the idea of being alone, you immediately began to tear up and protest, but Luffy made a compromise with you. Since the race was going to be so dangerous, he needed someone to look after his hat and keep it safe. So, if you could be brave about being by yourself for a little while, he would entrust this task to you. Part of you still wasn’t happy about this, but you didn’t want to let Luffy down, so you put on a brave face and accepted. 

Now you were left to sit on the cliffside overlooking the start of the race, waiting for it to begin so it could be over already. At least not everyone else will be in the games after this. From your perch, you could see your friends frantically scanning through the crowd. Oh, they were probably looking for you.

Standing up, you maintained your hold on Luffy’s treasure with one hand and waved to them with the other. Sanji was the first to spot you and pointed you out to everyone else. They all swiveled their heads in your direction, and the relief on their faces was palpable. Everyone waved back at you, and Luffy stood up, rather shakily on his raft, to call out to you, “Don’t worry, Lucky! We’ll win this no problem!”

There were some chuckles coming from the audience, and the weird looking announcer guy felt the need to comment on this, “Oh! What’s this? The Straw Hat’s captain thinks they’ll win this no problem? A bold claim to make from someone who has never seen the might of! The! Foxy! Piiiiraaates!”

You winced at the sheer volume and noise of feedback, not able to resist the urge to cover your ears. Luffy’s hat fell over your eyes, blocking out the view but doing nothing to block out the noise. You already didn’t feel good, and that was not helped by the roar of applause and cheers coming from the crowd. 

The breath lodged in your throat. The onslaught of noise felt like it was coming at you from all angles, melding together and ultimately amping up into an obnoxious ringing in your ears. Your knees buckled, making you fall onto your behind as you struggled to force yourself to remember how to breathe.

It’s too much! It’s way too much! It’s-

“Hey!” Two familiar hands fell onto your shoulders, snapping you out of the downwards spiral you were falling victim to. One of the hands moves to lift the brim of the hat just enough for you to make eye contact with your best friend. He smiled, and just seeing it was enough to soothe you a little, “It’s going to be okay! Don’t listen to them, we’ve got this!”

“Y-Yeah, of course you do,” you choked out.

Luffy brought you in for a quick but tight hug, smushing your face into his red shirt, “That’s it! We’ll be back before you know it!”

“Luffy! If you’re not in your boat by the start of the race you will be disqualified!” The announcer shouted, causing you to flinch again.

His grip on you tightened, and while you couldn’t see it, you just knew that he was scowling. His neck snapped towards the announcer furiously, “I will be! Stop being so loud about it!” Gently, Luffy pulled you away from him, offering another smile. His voice was quieter than usual, “Don’t worry about it, we’ll beat them and be out of here before you know it.” 

With a quick pat to your head, he rocketed himself back to his raft, nearly flipping it over in the process. While the exchange had eased your fears a little, there was still an overhanging discomfort about the situation. What would happen if they didn’t win? Who would those other pirates take? You shook your head. No. You’re not gonna think about it! Luffy will win, you just know it.

The distinct sound of grass crunching beneath feet made your shoulders tense up. Hesitantly, you turned to identify who was coming up behind you. It was two people. One of them was the captain, you think Luffy said his name was Split-Head? Yeah that sounds right. The other one was some big monkey-looking guy. You’re pretty sure his name was Hamburger, a funny name but who are you to judge?

Split-Head grinned at you, but it was not providing the warmth and comfort that Luffy’s gave you. It reminded you of a sleazy salesman that your mother yelled at in the mall one time for being too pushy. Maybe he’ll go away if you ignore him? You hope so.

“Why hello there, young lady! Your captain didn’t include your name on the roster, can you tell me it?” Split-Head was now crouched down next to you, much too close for comfort.

You kept your head down and shrugged, “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

This didn’t deter him in the slightest, “Aww, come on! You won’t make friends that way, kid. You can trust me! I’m captain Foxy of the Foxy pirates!” From your peripherals you could see him puffing out his chest in pride. His name is Foxy? Split-Head is more fitting in your humble opinion. He must think really high of himself. “There, now I’m not a stranger!”

It seems like this guy isn’t going away any time soon. You dug your heels into the dirt anxiously, wishing he would leave you alone. “Yeah, well… you’re still strange,” you mumbled.

Split-Head-Foxy let out an offended gasp, then fell to his knees with a gloomy aura looming over him. Wow. He’s pushy, full of himself, weird, AND dramatic. You rolled your eyes and took a decisive step away from him, looking out at the ocean as the race finally started. 

It was then that it dawned on you that this race went around the whole island, meaning that you’re going to have to run to try and keep up. Emphasis on the try. Without a word to the two pirates bothering you, you ran after your friends’ boats. Both of your hands were tightly grasping the hat on your head to prevent it from flying off. Sure, there was a string attached to it around your neck, but you didn’t want to risk it.

Immediately, it became obvious that you were not going to be able to keep up. Even if you were at your best, you wouldn’t be fast enough. But with how injured you were, everything was sore and the pain of your muscles pulling on your scabs made your run more like a trot. The Straw Hats’ boats were getting farther and farther away, and you could feel frustrated tears prickling at your eyes.

There was the sound of… galloping? Yeah, galloping behind you. Pretty soon, Foxy pulled up next to you riding Hamburger like a horse. Man, this guy just keeps getting weirder.

“Looks like you need a ride there, kid. Why don’t you hop on so we can watch this race together, hm?” Foxy held out his hand to you, smiling smugly. Memories of your preschool teacher telling the class to never get in a stranger’s car came to mind. A monkey man isn’t exactly a car, but you think the same idea applies here.

You shook your head vigorously, “No, I don’t wanna go with you.”

Foxy’s smile fell, and his hand drooped. He plastered it back on his face after a moment, “Kid, you’re not going to be able to keep up, just come with me. I’ve got some candy! I’ll give you some if you hop on!”

A stranger offering you candy to get in their vehicle was another thing your teacher warned you about. Yeah, this was definitely a bad guy you shouldn’t talk to. You doubled your effort to run a little faster to put some distance between you and them, “No! Leave me alone!”

They sped up, closing the gap in seconds. Instead of saying anything, Hamburger simply reached out and plucked you right off your feet then dropped you onto Foxy. Naturally, you started thrashing and screaming, “Let go of me! Put me down! Stranger danger!”

Hamburger laughed at your terror, “What a feisty child.”

“Quit laughing Hamburg, she’s kicking up a storm,” he was frantically trying to get a good hold on you. “Calm down! We’re not going to hurt you, we’re help- OW!” You managed to land a good kick to his face. Despite that, he was able to hold onto you. He spun you so that you were facing away from him.

His hand grabbed your face and turned it to gaze out at the ocean, “Look! We’re caught up now!”

True to his word, you could see the contestants. Your face scrunched up in confusion, not seeing Luffy and Sanji’s boat anywhere. Or Zoro and Chopper’s. Were they that far ahead? Yeah, that was definitely it, had to be. You could still see Usopp, Nami, and Robin at least. Seeing them made you feel a little calmer.

“See? We were just trying to help you out,” his smug grin was back. “Now how about you tell me your name?”

As much as you didn’t want to, he probably wouldn’t shut up about it until you did, “It’s Lucky.”

“Lucky? Is that supposed to be a nickname or something?” “It’s my name! You asked and I told you, stop bugging me about it,” you grumbled. You want to get down, but you get the feeling they wouldn’t let you do that. At least you get to follow the race now.

Foxy fished around in his pocket and pulled out some brightly colored objects, “Here, I bet you want some candy, don’t you?”

It’s bad enough that you’re riding with him, you’re not gonna take any candy from this weirdo, “No thank you, I don’t want any.”

He sighed and stuffed it back in his pocket. You hoped this would be the end of his chattering. Unfortunately, it didn’t appear that luck was on your side today. Or this week, really. Foxy held out your arm, scrutinizing all the scabbed over burns on it, “How did this happen, Lucky?”

“It’s none of your business, I don’t wanna talk about it mister,” you huffed. You didn’t want to even think about that ever again. About him. About how cold and uncaring his eyes were. About how much it hurt. Your shoulders started to shake and your lip trembled.

“Whoa, hey it’s okay! You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to!” Foxy brought you in for a hug, but you really didn’t want it. You squirmed and tried to get away from him, but he wasn’t letting you.

“What’s this?! The last remaining Straw Hat boat has broken into first place with incredible speed!” The announcer shouted.

Wait. Last remaining?! How was there only one boat left?! You looked out to see Usopp, Nami, and Robin barreling towards the finish line. They were going to win! They needed to if they were the only ones left.

Foxy cursed under his breath, “Hamburg, you need to hurry to the end goal!”

Hamburger only nodded and sped up. You were kinda impressed by how fast he was able to go. Despite being pestered by these two so much, you were smiling and kicking your feet in excitement. They were going to win this race! And then they would win the other two races, too!”

A little ways before the finish line, Hamburg came to a halt, and Foxy hopped off. You took the opportunity to scramble off him, too. You rushed to the cliff and called out, “You can do it! You’re gonna win!” If they heard you, they didn’t react.

“I wouldn’t count your chickens before they hatch, Lucky,” Foxy stated ominously. He held out his hands and made some weird shapes with them, like he was trying to make shadow puppets. All you could do was eye him curiously, trying to figure out what that was supposed to mean. You don’t have any chickens, why is he talking about counting them? Weird. 

His fingers were pointed right at your friends and then he said something about a slow-slow beam. Your friends, who were previously rocketing towards the finish, abruptly slowed down to a crawl, seemingly unable to move. Your jaw dropped as the other boat with the pointy nosed girl on it took the lead and then, much to your horror, won the race.

You whipped around to Foxy, who was looking quite proud of himself, “What did you do?!”

“I put my devil fruit to good use, that’s what! I can slow down anything with my slow-slow beam.”

“That’s cheating! You’re a cheater!” You stomped your foot angrily, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“No it’s not. I said there were no rules in this race, didn��t I? That means I’m allowed to help my team from the sidelines if I want.” He tried to pat your head, but you slapped his hand away.

“But that’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair, kid, you should get used to it and be a good sport about your team losing,” Foxy had the audacity to try and scold you for your behavior. Who does he think he is?!

“I hate you! Stupid Split-Head!” You kicked his shin before running off to try and find your friends, you need to tell them about this. 

Due to how large Foxy’s crew was, it was difficult to find one of your friends. Especially when everyone was trying to get you to stop and talk to them for some reason. Finally, though, you spotted the red shirt that you would recognize in a heartbeat. 

“Luffy!” 

That catches his attention, alright. He whirls around and then runs to meet you. Knowing the drill, you lift your arms so he can pick you up. He does just that, holding you out in front of him, “There you are!” His clothes were wet and water was dripping out of his hair, he must have fallen into the ocean at some point.

Your first order of business was to return his prized possession to him. You pulled the hat off your head and placed it onto his, albeit a bit crooked, “I kept your hat safe for you!”

“I knew you could, good job Lucky!” Luffy pulled you in to balance you on his hip and used his free hand to ruffle your hair.

Now onto the big thing, “Luffy, that Split-Head guy is a cheater! He’s got a devil fruit that makes stuff super slow and he used it on Usopp, Nami, and Robin! He uses his fingers to do it!”

“Is that what happened?!” The grin he was previously sporting dropped and he looked surprised.

You nodded, “Mmhm! I saw it myself!”

Luffy mimicked your nod, humming in thought, “Well now that we know about it, we can look out for it in the next game. We’ll figure out how to beat it, don’t worry!”

You looked away, picking at his shirt nervously, “Are you sure? You said the same thing about winning the race, but…” 

He tensed up from that, “Hey, come on! Have some faith in me, in all of us. We’ll win the rest of the matches for sure!” Luffy knelt down to put you on the ground, “Now how about you go stand with the others, okay?”

“Okay,” you didn’t really want to leave him, but you needed to listen to him. He probably had important captain stuff to do. It only took a second to spot some of the others. They weren’t far away and were watching your interaction with Luffy. You hurried over, squeezing yourself in between Robin and Sanji.

Sanji dropped onto his knees and brought you into a tight hug. He was also soaking wet. “Were you okay being on your own, princess? No one bothered you, did they?”

“I’m okay. Some people did bother me, but I gave them the slip after I kicked one of them in the shins,” you declared proudly.

Sanji’s face pinched in fury, “Who?”

“Um,” you took a second to remember their names again. “Oh, Foxy and Hamburger!”

“Hamburger? Do you mean Hamburg?” Robin asked, stifling a chuckle. Oh yeah, Foxy did call him that, didn’t he?

“Yeah, that. They kept trying to talk to me and made me come with them to watch the race. I didn’t want to, but Hamburger- I mean Hamburg, picked me up and made me come with. Oh, and Foxy tried to give me candy but I didn’t take any.”

Sanji was scowling and looked ready to go on a rampage. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he let you go and stood up while digging his cigarettes and lighter out of his pockets. He was muttering about caving their heads in later.

The announcer and captain were standing on a stage and said that it was time to announce who they were taking for their victory. Your heart sank and you clung onto Robin’s leg nervously. Who were they going to steal? Would Luffy really be able to win them back? What if they won all three rounds and stole three of your friends? Robin pet your hair reassuringly.

“We have decided on who is becoming a Foxy pirate! It is none other than,” there was a pause for dramatic effect. Your stress was climbing with every second. The announcer took a deep breath and finally finished the sentence, “Lucky!”

Everyone fell silent, but for only a second. Then chaos erupted.

“Absolutely not!” Nami shrieked.

“You said she was too young to participate!” Sanji interjected.

“We said she was too young to participate in the fights, not that she was off the table for this part,” Foxy pointed out with a smirk.

“She’s four years old! What could you possibly want from her?!” Sanji was already mad before the announcement, but now he was furious.

“That doesn’t matter, you need to hand her over now, lest you want to break the rules,” Foxy reminded him.

Sanji was distracted from his argument as he heard a sob behind him. From you. Robin was quick to scoop you up, cradling you in her arms and trying to calm you down. “Now look what you did! She’s crying!” Sanji barked at them.

“I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna!” You wailed, clinging onto Robin like your life depended on it. Which, as far as you were concerned, it did.

“Pick someone else, Lucky isn’t going to go with you,” Luffy spoke. His tone was cool, but the words were sharp.

“Don’t tell me what to do, straw hat. I’m making the rules here, not you. She’s a pirate, is she not? She needs to learn not to be such a crybaby. Besides, once she’s with us she’ll see how nice we are!” Foxy crowed proudly. 

“This is cruel, she’s just a child!” Robin chimed in, clutching you to her chest even tighter.

“Quit complaining so much, it’s not like we’re going to hurt her any worse than she’s already been hurt. We’re probably better suited for protecting her than you are,” the pointy-nosed woman was now approaching you and Robin, looking annoyed. “Now give her to me. Come here, Lucky! Do you want to go get some cotton candy with me?”

Her reaching for you only made you scream louder, “NO NO NO! I’m not going!” She tried to grab you anyways, but Robin was quick to put a stop to that. Arm sprouted from the woman’s body and immobilized her. 

Robin backed up by several paces, “Get away from her, you’re just going to make this worse!”

At this point, tears were pouring down your face and you felt like you couldn’t breathe despite how frantically your lungs were working. You coughed and hacked between hysteric breaths and sobs. Your heart was pounding out of your chest and your head hurt. They were going to take you away. You were going to be taken away from your friends again. Just like in Skypeia.

They were going to steal you.

They were going to hurt you.

“Don’t let me get taken away again!” You wailed at the top of your lungs.

Foxy scoffed, “This is getting ridiculous! Fine, if you won’t give her to us then I’ll tak-”

His sentence was ended abruptly by Luffy’s fist connecting with his face. A sickening crunch cut through the air. Before he even hit the ground, Luffy’s hand grabbed hold of his jacket and pulled him close. As soon as he was in range, Luffy was on him. 

He climbed on top of him and as Foxy was raising his hands to defend himself, Luffy grabbed them and snapped his fingers before he could put his devil fruit to use. Then Luffy began wailing on him, furious, raw screams erupting from his throat.

Everyone was frozen in place, shocked at the display, but then the crowd rushed at Luffy to save their captain. They couldn’t even get close, though. Zoro leapt into action, cutting them down like paper. You weren’t able to see anything else after that, as Robin snapped out of her own state of shock and buried your face in her neck. “Don’t watch this, Lucky,” she whispered.

A hand landed on your head, gently stroking your hair. It feels like Sanji. He confirmed this by speaking lowly, “Robin, get Nami and Chopper and head back to the ship. Prepare it to set sail, it looks like we’re not going to be finishing these games after all.” He peaked around her shoulder to be able to look you in the eyes, “Don’t worry Lucky. We will never let you get taken away again, I promise.”

Many Foxy pirates swarmed around you ready to attack, only to get sent flying by Sanji. He didn’t even look back at you and Robin, “Go! I’ll protect you so just focus on getting the others and going back to the ship.”

“Right, let’s go Lucky,” Robin held you securely in her arms and ran. “Navigator! Doctor! We’re leaving, follow me!” They didn’t need to be told twice, cutting through the crowd to run in tandem with you and Robin. “We need to free the ship and get it ready to sail!”

“Should be easy enough,” Nami said. She caught your eye and switched to a softer tone, “When we get back to the ship, I need you to go hide in our room until one of us comes to get you, okay?”

“O-Okay,” you sniffled pitifully. At least the tears had stopped now. You chose to nestle in closer in Robin arms for the duration of the sprint back to the Going Merry, eager to leave and for this to all be behind you.

[horrorisunknowntoyou]

[Simon "Ghost" Riley x Wife!-Reader] Headcanons

A/n: my birthday is today! so I wrote this as a treat for myself. I been hella sick and unwell so yeah :) also there's a lack of fluff and domestic stuff so I'm here to provide! + Birthday stuff at the end! 🎂 🎉

TW// dark topics, mentioned of Simon's trauma and mental illness, It's like brief.

Song recommendations:

Somewhere Only We Know - Keane

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

You been married to Ghost for a long time, hell the task force didn't even know you existed until later this year or so.

Your meeting with your husband's buddies/co-workers (?) was quite a pleasant suprised.

Captain price was a lovely fellow, very much the father figure of the group. But he can be very cruel if need be.

Soap was.... interesting, you understand why your husband both love/hate the guy. But he was definitely fun to talk to. He was the most surprised to see you.

Gaz was a sweetheart, nice young man. Funny definitely. Didn't talk much.

Laswell was nice, she seem like the cool aunt type to drink wine or something.

But they definitely were surprised at the revelation that Ghost was married. Which isn't surprising considering the type of man he is.

(also you definitely showed the team your guys wedding photos/videos much to Ghost's protest.)

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

But speaking of marriage, you been married to Ghost for around 5ish years. You met him by chance during an errand. It was really cliche, you accidentally bumped into him. And he was very awkward, and kinda stood their staring at you. You just laughed it off.

In some sense, you two were polar opposites that was interchangeable. He was the moon and you were the sun, etc. You balance each other out.

Also if it isn't obvious, both of you have some sense of dark humor. His was more shitty dad jokes and yours was offensive ones or very niche references to stuff. *Cough." Tumblr "Cough."

Also considering your husband, you were used to his interest in the morbid or macabre. Of course you had to tell him to dial it down so it doesn't hurt him. Specifically his interest in live leak. Also cause you didn't want to see that.

You were also the only person who could properly calm him down, or deal with his anger issues. Reminding him, it's fine to take a step away to breathe. Of course in the beginning it was hard but, you learn to understand him well.

You knew his triggers, his traumas and fears, of course it took ALOT of time and trust for him to even tell you this. But he slowly open himself to you and vice versa.

Also one of his bad habits, be it anger issues, but he sometimes unintentionally gaslight you. You know it means no harm but sometimes it can get overwhelming or lead up to fights. He tries his best not to do it often.

He may not be a great person for comfort, mainly sitting besides you or awkward hugs. But it's obvious he tries his best and that's enough for you.

And he's very protective of you considering what he's been through.

He trained you to defend yourself and how to use a firearm in emergencies just in case. It helps put his minds in ease. But as mentioned earlier, due to his anger issues. He will have the urge to fight anyone who upsets you or hurts you. That's the only time you can't hold him back much to your pleas.

But at the same time, you, yourself is highly protective of him. Of course he's more then capable to defend himself afterall he's a highly experienced military man. Who's 6'4 and 200+ pounds, but even so you will protect him. After all you love him with all your heart. Of course being a civilian, there's not much you can do but you try. And I think that's enough for him.

Also both of you have this weird complex of "I'll put my life aside for my significant other." You both definitely need to work on it.

He also knows your triggers and issues, he doesn't fault you for it. Be it whatever you suffer from, he's always willing to help you, or at least something to lean on.

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

Domestic life between the two of you is interesting.

First things first, Simon wears his mask even at home. He doesn't show his face often and you don't really mind it. As it just became part of him in some sense.

However he has to do face mask with you to make sure 1. His face is handled and cleaned, 2. To wash his masks and hoodies he wears. It makes you cringe at how dirty his mask are.

You two also sometimes play videogames, funny enough first person shooters. You suck at it though, your not terrible but Simon dies inside when your aim is shit. However you force Simon to play Just Dance with you so that's a win in your book!

Also chores between the two of your are planned out before hand so not much issues between that, but if you both are tired you just order out take out lol.

Also surprisingly, Simon's a really good cook he's just lazy or pretends to suck because he doesn't want soap to know. lol

You both have your own specialized mugs to drink tea or coffee in it.

Simon likes to play and brush your hair, it kinda calms him down. He sometimes braid it or style it. You have no idea why he knows how to do this but you ain't complaining.

Simon is also a HUGE sucker for cuddles, either be it sleeping or laying down in the couch. But specifically in bed he's either sleeping as if he's in a casket or he's holding you protectively around his arms. No in-between.

In the more colder months, even though you have your own hoodies, Ghost allows you to wear one his. It engulfs you and it's very comfortable to be in.

But you, you love spoiling Simon. It being some expensive knife he wanted or little charm to add on his weapon. The glee in his eyes make it worth it at times, especially the slight hints of red brushed on him. Of course you respect his boundaries and not overdo it.

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

During Ghost's deployment he likes to keep a picture of you, either a simple picture within his pocket or a locket he hear around his neck.

Same goes for you, you mainly have a picture of him sleeping peacefully while watching TV as your wallpaper, You smile at it every time.

You also have a Polaroid that you keep on deck in your wallet. It has a little note on the back from Ghost. It's cute.

You even have your own version of his skull mask for you too wear, if you feel lonely when he's away weeks at a time.

He does worry his work will put you in harms way or affect you negativity. It plagues his mind and it makes it hard for him to sleep in his cot or wherever.

You do get lonely while he's away, but you manage it.

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

+ [Birthday stuff!] Characters are ooc lmao

When it's your birthday, Simon is alot more soft around you. He truly does care about you, and thankful for you in his life.

You usually have a small birthday party at your guys house with the task force (and some people of your choosing ) Especially, by now you really grew accustomed to them and it felt like a family to you.

You knew the first time round, they definitely struggled, as it was a surprise party. And Soap and Ghost were arguing over the placement of the banner.

Price was absolutely tired but gaz and Laswell (+ her wife) kept you distracted so you didn't even notice much to his relief.

Eventually Ghost sort it out, much to Soap nagging.

And when gaz and others brought back you were surprised with a birthday party.

You were so happy, you almost cried at how sweet everyone is. You were so thankful for this.

You had alot of fun with everything, they absolutely tried, it was like birthday party mixed potluck. It was fun!

There was also a bunch of moments you remembered.

One, Soap got drunk lmao. After the pinatas in which Gaz got most of the candy in his sweater, Soap starting doing some karaoke thing. He was singing California girls. The best thing though, you recorded it and you can see in video Ghost giving him a death stare.

You and Gaz did rock, paper, scissors over shots. You don't drink but it was fun till price like any father figure immediately stops it before it goes out of hand.

Also did you guys get a bounce castle knowing very well you all are grown adults? Yes.

You have alot of videos of it, mainly ghost and soap wrestling each other in the castle. Even though ghost refused to at first but soap pissed him off lol.

Laswell and price mainly stated out there.

You however joined in, and almost gave Ghost a heart attack when you grapped the roof part of the bouncy castle and got lifted up. He immediately pulled you down.

Gaz was the kid who mainly stated in the corner on his phone. But he did join in for a couple of games.

After that mess, you guys did the birthday cake. It was you favorite cake with white candles. And you say at the center of the table, and smiled.

They sang happy birthday and you blew out your candles.

Opening presents was a mess, you had alot of presents, that you didn't expect. Ghost obviously gave them tips what to get you.

You have alot of photos/videos of you opening the gifts.

Overall it was a really fun! You were the second person to fall asleep. Soap was asleep on the couch, you fell asleep on the recliner hidden in a hoodie.

Gaz fell asleep on two party chairs like it was normal. The rest either left or talked.

Overall you had a really fun night.

Also Ghost definitely teased you the next day over the stupid shit you did. But he's happy you enjoyed it.

[thedeerman]

RadioApple Fic:

Do You Want To Know?

Hey all, this is the first chapter of my little slow burn radioapple fic. Please let me know what you think, I don’t write much!!

Ch1: A New Idea

It’s been three weeks since the attempted extermination. Three weeks since Lucifer just barely saved the life of his daughter in a fight that nearly killed everyone she cared about. Three weeks since he helped to build the new hotel and moved into his very own suite. It’s been both terrible and beautiful for Lucifer. He had hardly spoken to another soul for years and now was thrown into daily gatherings with sinners he didn’t know. Some of which he certainly didn’t care to know. But those gatherings also included his daughter. His wonderful, smart, passionate, forgiving daughter. I don’t deserve her, Lucifer thinks constantly. He spent years neglecting their relationship, burying himself in his own sorrow, and yet Charlie welcomed him in without a second thought. Without even asking for an explanation or apology for his years of absence. He’s not sure where she got such a big heart, but he’s beyond grateful that she has it. And as an attempt to show her just how dedicated he is to helping her see out her dream, he’s been showing up for every morning meeting. Every ‘family’ dinner. Every chore list, cooking schedule, errands run, nearly anything that could be signed up for, he does. Lucifer didn’t mind chores much. Cooking was fun and he could be experimental (in a way that didn’t include human remains, much to the other residents’ delight). Doing dishes or laundry was something as monotonous and calming as making ducks and other little trinkets. And on the days when he really just wasn’t in the mood to deal with it, he simply used his magic to help him get it done quickly. No matter how emotionally taxing, how time consuming, or how frustrating the task was, Lucifer was ready and willing to do anything he could to help his daughter succeed.

It’s because of this that Lucifer ends up on the attendance list for all of Charlie’s ’family’ activities for the hotel. It doesn’t seem too bad at first, but as the activities get to be a little more personal, Lucifer ends up regretting how agreeable he was to his daughter’s every request. A bit too late to be kicking myself for that now... Lucifer thinks as he sits in yet another hotel ‘family’ meeting. The ‘family’ being Charlie of course, her girlfriend Vaggie, the spider demon/porn star Angel, the grumpy bartender Husk, the scary little maid (the one that killed Adam, no less) Niffty, Angel’s one eyed bomb loving friend Cherri, now Lucifer, and... Ugh. This guy, the fallen angel thinks, as the final ‘family’ member graces them with his presence by appearing from the shadows. Alastor... What a pain in the ass. Lucifer doesn't actually have much reason to hate the demon aside from his frustrating theatrics and his need to always be the one Charlie pays the most attention to. Whatever game you’re playing, I’ve got my eye on you, he’s always thinking.

“Alrighty everyone!” His daughter’s voice catches Lucifer’s attention. “Now that we’re all here, I’d like to announce that we will be trying a new activity!” There are a series of groans from the group. None from Alastor, of course. But his creepy, always there smile seems strained, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as Charlie continued. “So! You all know how we’ve been trying out some new ideas as test runs for new residents,” she starts. Yes, and it’s been excruciating. No one involved has been enjoying being guinea pigs for Charlie’s therapy experiments. The only silver lining being that the new residents wouldn’t have to suffer the same fates, as each and every “new activity” so far has been tossed out after a resounding failure of some kind or another. Fights, tears, broken furniture, and excessive day drinking have occurred both during and after a few of these sessions. Her ideas weren’t terrible in concept, but in practice, with demons and fallen angels and souls under contract, they just weren’t working. Lucifer’s attention is once again brought to the front of the room as Charlie continues.

“And yes, I understand that the past few exercises we’ve tried... haven’t exactly ended well.” Lucifer hates the sad look in her eyes as she considers her failures, but it’s gone as quickly as it arrived. “But after a lot of discussion and thinking about how and why our previous activities went so....” She pauses, looking for the right word. “Awful? Terrible? Destructive? Shitty? Depressing?” Angel adds. Vaggie glared his way but the demon wasn’t paying any attention. “Yes, thank you Angel,” Charlie says hesitantly. “So! I took those... experiences... into account while creating this one!” Lucifer shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He was a huge fan of Charlie living out her dream, but he wasn’t a huge fan of having to be this close to the action. He lets out a small sigh. I can’t abandon my place as her dad again. Charlie paused for a moment to reach into a bag and hand a bundle of items to Vaggie. Small strips of paper and markers. As Vaggie started passing them out to each of them, Charlie explains. “First thing’s first, I need everyone to write their names down. Once you’ve written your name, please give your paper to Vaggie.”

Lucifer’s anxiety starts up, as it always does when he’s involved in one of his daughter’s ‘family’ activities. He just hopes whatever comes of this involves less property damage than before. He hands his paper back to Vaggie as she walks around to collect them. Giving the papers back to her partner, Vaggie continues the instructions. “You will now each receive a randomly chosen name. The name on your paper will be for your eyes and your eyes only. Do not tell anyone else the name that you got.” Charlie excitedly passes the papers back out, now folded shut. “Except for me!” she interrupts. “I’m going to make a note of who gets who for the sole purpose of understanding the effectiveness of this activity. Don’t worry, no one else will get to see!” Her smile is infectious, Lucifer just can’t help it. He always smiles when he sees his daughter this way, so full of hope and joy. Vaggie hands him a folded strip of paper. Before he can open it to see who he was assigned, Charlie speaks again.

“Now, unlike some of our previous attempts, this activity will not be done as a group.” Multiple sighs of relief are heard, and Lucifer notices that Alastor seems to relax ever so slightly. At least that’s one thing we can agree on... “However,” Charlie continues, “This will be a week-long exercise-” multiple groans again, “that will involve a prompt each morning. That prompt will be a question or instruction that each of you will respond to in a letter. The letters don’t have to be long, but must include a full response to the prompt. They don’t have to be short either, just go for whatever your honest answer is!” She’s practically bouncing up and down with excitement as she says “The recipient of what you’ll be writing for the week will be the name on the paper youve been given. You’ll have a full 24 hours to write your letters. Tomorrow you’ll hand them in to me during the morning meeting, and will then be given the next prompt. Any questions so far?”

All of them are silent for a long moment. Vaggie breaks the silence. “Here are the rules. Rule number one: You MUST be respectful. OUR version of respectful. No insults, no petty jabs. Just answer the prompt. Rule number two: No discussing who each person is writing to. I mean NO discussion. Do not ask, do not tell. If we find out that this rule is broken, the offending parties will be sitting in on Charlie’s hotel-wide group therapy sessions for a month.” Lucifer’s eyes went wide at this. Several others did as well. Group therapy wasn't an uncommon ‘punishment’ (though Charlie wont ever call it that) but the sessions are held four days out of the week and last for one to two hours at a time. And with new arrivals slowly trickling into the hotel to be redeemed, the sessions were getting larger. Lucifer tensed, thinking of the last time he was forced to participate after getting into a spat with the only sinner in the building he just couldn’t stand to be around. Lucifer was not meant for group therapy, that was for sure. The most any of them have been forced to attend for bad behavior was one week. None of them wanted a whole month.

Vaggie looked amused at the group’s reaction to this. She spoke again. “This also includes revealing yourself to the person you’re writing to. These letters are supposed to be anonymous.” Charlie speaks up. “This exercise depends on honesty and anonymity, and I have really high hopes that this one can be used by new residents learning to redeem themselves.” She pauses. “Okay. So now that we’ve gone over everything, I’m going to call each of you over to note down who you’ll be writing to. I’ll then give you a paper with today’s writing prompt and an envelope to put the letter in once you're done. Make sure to seal it! After that, bring your envelope with you for tomorrow’s meeting and I’ll mark the intended recipient on the front. At the end of our meeting you’ll get the letter addressed to you and the next writing prompt.”

All of this information takes a moment to register in Lucifer’s head, but after he’s gone over it all in his mind he’s left with a sense of pride for his daughter. Out of all of her experiments so far, this one is the first that Lucifer doesnt think would turn into an all out war. It seems... feasible. He smiles as she makes eye contact with him, clearly ecstatic with her plan. Vaggie calls each one of them over to the desk that Charlie has against the room’s far wall. One at a time, each member of the ‘family’ does as they’re told and then leaves the meeting room. Lucifer spends a moment wondering who got his slip of paper, the one with his name written on it, until he suddenly remembers that he never looked at his own intended letter recipient. With no one close enough to peer over his shoulder, Lucifer slowly opens up the folded paper to see whose name is written.

Of course. Go figure. Yeah, why not just make the next week my own little slice of Hell? I mean honestly- His thoughts are interrupted by Charlie’s voice. “Dad! It’s your turn!” He looks up and realizes he’s the last one to be called. Everyone else, save Charlie and Vaggie, have already left the room. He attempts to smile as he stands and faces his daughter, but she sees through it immediately. And it's obvious. “Come on Dad... I know who you got.” This surprises him. Was his face really that revealing? “Everyone else’s name has already been marked on my chart, so...” She smiles awkwardly. “Listen, I think this will be good for you! Please, just try your best?” Lucifer slowly walks to the desk and sighs heavily. “Anything for you, sunshine. I’ll try my hardest.” He hands the strip of paper to his daughter and she gives him the paper with the prompt and envelope in exchange. “I dont think I’ve got you on the chores schedule today, but I’m gonna be pretty busy so I probably won’t see you until dinner.” She smiles at him, that glowing warm smile that he’d missed out on for so many years. She encourages him with an “I love you, Dad. You’re gonna do great!” and gives him a thumbs up.

He leaves the room smiling, just loving being in his daughter’s presence, until he walks into the lobby and sees him. Sitting on one of the many comfy chairs, sipping black coffee out of a mug that says “Oh Deer” on the side. The asshole. The worst demon in the hotel. The piece of shit that loves to torment Lucifer to no end. The name on his strip of paper. He strides by as quickly as possible to avoid any contact. Damn it... He thinks on the way back to his side of the hotel. Why, of all people... He can’t get the vision of the neat, cursive handwriting out of his head. His mind focuses on one name and one name only.

Alastor

Read Chapter 2!

[redleavesinthewind]

elliot's 2023 fic wrap up

2022 version

alright friends it is once again time for me to review the (many) fics i read in the previous year and try to write a more or less concise rec list of my absolute faves (i wish i didn't have to chose but heh i'm not gonna subject anyone to 332 fics in 1 post - also wait only 332 fics? that's like. over 100 less than last year, what the fuck. anyway)

okay now first the part that interests no one but me (yes you may skip this) and that's the numbers part! i'm not making a whole elaborate spreadsheet to then not throw around cool numbers. anyway.

i've read around 4,932k words in 332 fics across 18 fandoms. that is much less than last year, and yeah, i've been generally less productive in 2023 but we don't have to talk about it. at least i have more variety of fandoms this time (let's ignore that it's only 2 more and also that from fandom 13 on there's only 1 fic per fandom)

i started out the year strong with 847k words across 72 fic in february (followed by 753k across 42 fics in january, and 621k words across 63 fics in march). it goes downhill for the rest of the year. eh it wasn't my year so what! 2024 is gonna be more filled with fic reading again!!!

my top 3 fandoms are so entirely unsurprising to me i am almost disappointed in myself. when did i become so predictable. top fandom is young royals with 166 fics! congratulations young royals, you are a very persistent hyperfixation, you didn't peter out after 2 months like i expected. Spot number 2 is taken by avatar the last airbender with 41 fics! giant leap there, but it's also funny because i fell into an atla rabbit hole late 2023 (as i do every few years) and it still got up to 41 fics despite uni not allowing me to read last semester (uni is evil). Same as last year, spn takes third place with 38 fics. speaking of persistent hyperfixations.......... *big sigh*

and that is it the boring part is over let's go to the fun section LET'S REC SOME FIIIIIICCCCSSSSSSS (under the cut)

JANUARY

bet you you'll ... (noraverse) (series) by @gh0sthugs | young royals, wilmon | teen&up | 52k words

a kid fic!! and such a sweet one too! i'm kinda weak for kid fics ngl, and nora is so sweet and wonderful, and the relationship that slowly forms between wille and simon is beautiful and comfortable. this whole series is just such a good time

spreadsheet notes: ah to fall in love with the dilf next door who also happens to be the ex crown prince of the country

A Royal Intervention by AnxiousAnaconda | young royals, wilmon | teen&up | 18k words

erik is being such a dumbass in this one. like, he means well, but he's kinda messing up and pissing people off (understandably). it's nice to get a view on erik that's not portraying him as this perfect guy though, and the fic is actually so much fun to read. and hey, the prime minister of luxembourg gets mentioned, which i was kinda waiting for in yr fic ngl

spreadsheet notes: big sigh... erik you fucking idiot. stop listening to august. also shoutout to xavier bettel apparently (edit: this aged poorly, fuck xavier bettel)

and each slow dusk by @if-fortunate | young royals, wilmon | mature | 49k words

okay. ooookay how do i even begin with this one. ohhh boy. okay. so. world war three. wille gets stuck in bjärstad with simon, many many things happen, it's about finding hope in a horrible situation and trying to live life despite everything falling apart around you. it's incredibly well written and something about it just has me in awe

spreadsheet notes: i don't know what it says about me that this is without a shadow of a doubt the best fic i have ever read in my life

Put Me Back Together and Take My Heart by @notalotgoingonatthisinstant | young royals, wilmon | mature | 50k words

i once again don't know what to say, this one is sooo good. simon is suffering and both wille and i hate it, but... but wille is there for him and ugh, they just... they just can't be apart. a story of reconciliation and healing from both physical and invisible wounds, and of making the right decisions for yourself

spreadsheet notes: ugh. UGH. my guys. MY GUYS. yeah let's go blackmail the queen

Department Six by @thisdiscontentedwinter | teen wolf | gen | 4k words

a fun short one about stiles and danny working for the fbi and being delightfully weird and mysterious

spreadsheet notes: HILARIOUS i'm in love with outsider pov always

FEBRUARY

There Are No Wolves in California by @thisdiscontentedwinter | teen wolf, sterek | gen | 5k words

you know, sometimes you see a fic you know is going to hurt you, and you've never clicked on anything faster. this is definitely one of those fics

spreadsheet notes: let's be wolves today yeah well derek what if i just break down and cry instead

you got my body, i got your body by @prince-simon | young royals, wilmon | explicit | 9k words

this one's technically part of a bigger series (which, definitely read that one too), but i'm highlighting this one cause... damn... this made me feel things... like, gender things... which is really weird cause wille's gender in this is very much different from mine BUT STILL

spreadsheet notes: how almost 9k of pwp gave me so many gender feelings i will never understand

Changing Channels: Queer Premiere by @emeraldcas, @fellshish | spn, deancas | gen | 27k words

this might actually be one of the funniest fics i've ever read. dean and cas are so stupid (affectionately) and all the crossovers are delightful (bonus that i knew all the other shows). everyone go read this it's gonna be the best time

spreadsheet notes: mel and fells have genuinely outdone themselves this is the most hilarious shit i've ever read

Catalyst by @stretchoutfics | young royals | teen&up | 3k words

a backstory for boris! this fic is within a series of other side character ficlets, but this one has a soft spot in my heart

spreadsheet notes: AAAAHHHH HE KNEW ABOUT THE RECKLESS DRIVING BUT DIDN'T BRING IT UP but also... him being a gay man trying to help the queer crown prince navigate his sexuality that's kinda nice actually, like boris understands at least a bit

The most beautiful boy by lovelysarcastic | young royals, wilmon | teen&up | 88k words

there's something incredibly grounding about this fic. the way it develops, the way wille rationalises his thought processes, the way the relationship between wille and simon develops... this fic just kinda sucked me in and spit me out again feeling... content and calm and... it's just... this fic is so beautiful

spreadsheet notes: dude i love this so much??? they're both so stupid??? i love them???

MARCH

All's Fair in Love and Hunting by @badjoices | spn, deancas | mature | 20k words

they're playing gay chicken but also are being incredibly competitive and stupid about it, and i'm just sorry about the shit sam has to witness. so many shenanigans in this fic

spreadsheet notes: they are both so stupid omg

["mi cotufita" started sharing their screen] by @omar-rudeberg | young royals, wilmon | explicit | 60k

so... this is a follow up to one of my favourite fics and it is a delight. very horny but also very sweet? and also for some reason there's porn. fun times! oh, and this fic made me cry. it really has the range

spreadsheet notes: how are they so horny it's so funnyyyyyy, but also if i were wille i could never look linda in the eyes again

A Light To Guide You In The Dark (Warmed By The Fire's Glow) by 80shairmetal | stranger things, harringrove | teen&up | 19k words

this is just... people taking care of each other out of the kindness of their hearts. finding comfort in strangers who become family. growing and helping each other. there's such a beauty to this one

spreadsheet notes: this is just..... comfort

did you see the love in my eyes, oh were you gazing through this disguise? by @tooindecisivetopickaurl | young royals, wilmon | mature | 67k words

fake dating my beloved. they're so in love with each other but they're pretending not to be while pretending... to be? i'm obsessed with them. but they're so respectful with each other and cautious of boundaries and they really are best friends who also happen to be obliviously in love

spreadsheet notes: love a good fake dating au they're so stupid i love them

flash like a setting sun by @playedwright | 911, buddie | explicit | 22k words

because you only realise you're in love with your best friend when you're scared you're losing him. that's the fic. and it's beautiful

spreadsheet notes: oh this is sooooo beautifully written and ugh just <333

Other people's secrets by @sflow-er | young royals, walty & wilmon | mature | 239k words

yooooo hello? so first off this is an outsider pov on wilmon which i am always obsessed with anyways but the focus isn't just on them, this is henry's story. it's a beautiful story about how friendships form and warp and change, how feelings manifest in different ways, how decisions and actions have consequences. it's an incredibly mature take on post-s1, and it's probably my favourite of the year. also ace representation!!!!

spreadsheet notes: ace henry my beloved <33 also love seeing wilmon from an outside perspective! such a good, well thought out fic with lots of healthy comminication <33

APRIL

if i stare too long by @brawlite & @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger | stranger things, harringroveson | explicit | 191k words

i haven't seen st s4 (and probably won't watch it) but that definitely won't stop me from reading harringroveson fic. i mean, who wouldn't look at those three and immediately want to see them together. the way their dynamic is written in this fic is peak, i don't even know what more to say. i also very much trust these authors with billy, and again i wasn't disappointed. there's just something in his head that's intriguing.

spreadsheet notes: this whole fic is such a vibe it makes me feel of hot summer chillin

MAY

Rewrite the Stars (series) by @in-amor-veritas | young royals, wilmon | mature | 137k words

definitely one of the highlights of the year, simon's whole life in new york... those scenes, they just show such a wonderful life simon has built for himself, and his relationship with wille doesn't change it, but he manages to fit in (after, you know, fun rom-com drama shenanigans). also. this is a kid fic. kid fics are my weak spot. rasmus is my new favourite little guy. also shoutout to luis best side character ever

spreadsheet notes: YELLING i love this fic sooo much it is everything

Where The Wind Will Carry Me by @1-life-to-give | young royals, wilmon | teen&up | 49k words

AND THEY WERE ACTORS PLAYING LOVE INTERESTS. do i have to say more? the tension guys the TENSION. also erik's side-plot i'm in love

spreadsheet notes: hopping up and down like a hyperactive chihuahua EN I LOVE THIS

Your love is my turning page (the t4t wilmon as girldads au) (series) by @willesworld | young royals, wilmon | teen&up | 17k words

i know i know another kid fic BUT!!!! t4t wilmon. makes it automatically superior. i'm not even kidding, add trans characters and i will like your fic (that i probably already like a lot) aroun 300000000 times more. but also this series comes for your feelings. it hits

spreadsheet notes: i am weak for t4t wilmon AND them having a biological child there's something so beautiful about it like that could be meeee ; siiimon i need to hug him and i need to hug wille they're gonna get out of this i prommy ; recovery and one step forwards a hundred steps back, but they made it there in the end ; they were so happy :((((

JUNE

A trace of dew by nuncflore | elden ring, this is too complicated | gen | 13k words

very elden ring-esque writing style, wonderful representation of whatever the hell is going on in the lore. hehehehehhe fucked up family ehhehehehe DIVORCE. my friends are so talented :))

spreadsheet notes: CAP I AM EATING YOU

Hanging from the Ceiling by @spicymiilk | spiderverse | teen&up | 6k words

for like. a week after i saw the new spiderverse movie i made miles 42 my entire life. that also meant reading this fic. and damn did this fic hit. i am still thinking about it

spreadsheet notes: i need more miles 42 content he is my favourite guy ever

The Darkest Little Paradise by @yourdemiurge | young royals, wilmon | explicit | 79k words

*holding you at gunpoint* read this fic. read it now, in this moment. you are not gonna regret it. believe me when i say you NEED this fic, you really do. doesn't even matter if you've seen yr or not. you're gonna thank me later

spreadsheet notes: THIS IS INSANE I CAN'T BREATHE MADY WHAT THE FUUUUUCK

JULY

Protected (series) by bastuba | young royals, wilmon | explicit | 69k words

hey do you ever read a fic and you just feel. so incredibly grounded because something about the characters feels grounded? like, they aren't grounded, but they still give off that vibe? idk how to explain this properly but that's this fic. also wille and simon cook together (i haven't read all parts of the series yet btw)

spreadsheet notes: incredibly grounded very mature how is wille like this ; i'd be like wille, always complaining about the heat ; they're soooooo. idiots. getting tattoos for each other ; i too would come out on a podcast about food ; SAFE SEX

AUGUST

The Season of Rebirth by @notalotgoingonatthisinstant | young royals, wilmon | mature | 30k words

part of a series, but i'm picking out this one specifically because it's soooo sweet!!! the title fits the fic so well, like yes it is the season of rebirth, but simon and wille's relationship is also rehashed in a very cool way, this fic is like one giant easter egg, i love it so much!

spreadsheet notes: wille taking the season of rebirth to recreate their early relationship, i am obsessed with him he's such a dumbass romantic

The Upgrade by @groenendaelfic | young royals, wilmon | explicit | 13k words

it's about the moment simon realises who wille is. that's why this fic is here. i mean of course also because it is very good, but mainly because of that moment

spreadsheet notes: the moment simon realised who wille is i am wheezing

Right Where You Left Me by @armandgender | spn, deancas | explicit | 94k words

if you're wondering why this fic is on my 2023 list instead of the 2022 list.... well that's because it took me almost a year to read the last chapter, and in terms of how my spreadsheet works, that makes it a fic i read in 2023. anyway. if you haven't read this fic yet, what are you even still doing here. click on that link right now. you want complex emotional situations? intricacies of ill-advised marriages? you wanna pick through abusive behaviour and encourage infidelity? well you're at the right place! also this has one of my favourite jack characterisations ever. it also made me go on multiple rants

spreadsheet notes: I FINALLY FINISHED IT AAAAHHHH I LOVE THIS FIC THE CABIN THE CATS JACK!!!!!

Alejito y Marimar (series) by th0ughts | red, white, and royal blue | teen&up | 18k words

OBSESSED WITH THIS DYNAMIC YOOOOOO. seriously the friendship between alex and martha is an expansion of the rwrb universe that is much needed, trust me

spreadsheet notes: the friendship i didn't know i needed in my life <333 ; they're just chillin!!!

SEPTEMBER

Change of Address (series) by hearmerory | avatar: the last airbender, zukka | mature | 134k words

okay. oooookay. strap in for this one, it is a lot. emotionally. like yes zuko is autistic, yes yes yeeees, i agree, also azula is treated like an actual person with actual mental issues, she deserves to be treated with care and this author definitely does that! this is the kind of series that makes me want to disappear in it, but it's also the kind of story i need breaks from, because it is so heavy (definitely check the tags for this one). zuko's relationship with sokka is written so thoughtfully and iroh is characterised incredibly and the author even included ursa in a way that didn't undermine everything that happened in the series before she appeared again. i can only recommend this one!

spreadsheet notes (there's lots of parts to the series, so this one is long): hhhh if i were ms jamieson i would have snapped after two days probably ; be nice katara!!!!! he's nervous ; i need to murder ozai ; and i need to murder zhao as well ; iroooohhhhh he should have just. taken the kids with him that first time he noticed something off ; yeah i think there was a reason why iroh never took zuko to the movies ; ozai needs to suffer ; i need to destroy ozai. violently and painfully ; iroh is the best uncle ever, zuko deserves all his kindness ; azula...... you don't have to fight for affection, it's not a competition..... they love you ; iroh should have taken her with him the first time around, she was like. 10, he could have just picked her up or sth ; ..... hakoda you idiot ; IROH BACKSTORY IROH BACKSTORY ; sokka and the plan that changed his life <3333 ; they are so soft with each other ; they all deserve all the therapy and support and yes sokka obviously you have adhd get with the program ; URSA??????? also i am living for sokka and azula's dynamic they are everything ; i don't. i don't understand her. i don't fucking understand her how could she not want her own children. how can she talk about them like that. like she knows them she doesn't know them she LEFT

Every night my teeth are falling out by @sulkybender | avatar: the last airbender, zukka | mature | 9k words

i was in need of some good zuko angst and oooohhh boy was i lucky to find this author. PEAK zuko angst. this fic in particular is very dear to me because it explores how mental illnesses would be handled in a world where there's practically no resources to help. i think we need that more

spreadsheet notes: yes well. how DO you deal with a schizophrenic fire lord in a fantasy world? (you stay with him and support him that is how)

OCTOBER

for years or for hours by @ghostinthelibrarywrites | the witcher, geralt/eskel/jaskier | explicit | 52k words

listennn i love myself some good polyamory fics, and this is the first fic i read for this ship and now i am OBSESSED with them. but this fic in particular.... the concept alone, like. what do you do when you thought the man you love was dead for 800 years, and then when he comes back you have another man you love. the answer is simple. polyamory. the two men you love also love each other. perfect coincidence.

spreadsheet notes: YO the concepts of witchers in modern times alone is sooo cool but adding in everything else? hello yes?

this is a love story by @achillestiel | supernatural, deancas | mature | 3k words

listen, i've never seen fleabag, but that's not the point. this is intriguing and funny, that's the point

spreadsheet notes: fucked up families and you want to fuck the priest hell yeah

The road not taken looks real good now by @stretchoutfics | young royals, wilmon | explicit | 90k words

it's not even the wilmon part i love about this fic (i very much enjoy it of course don't get me wrong) but wille and his kids. like, i don't want to spoil anything but like. wille's interactions with his kids are so important in this fic, and they're written so well. like, emilia is my favourite character in this, i kinda wish there was more with the kids honestly. this fic is definitely a highlight of the year, and to get back to wilmon, i do love how they're portrayed in this fic, how their dynamic plays out, and specifically how certain decisions do not depend on simon

spreadsheet notes: no but. the care put into this story. i can't--

NOVEMBER

Averno (series) by @sulkybender | avatar: the last airbender, zukka | mature | 12k words

a fascinating take on a fire lord zuko that was never part of the gaang

spreadsheet notes: HE JUST DESERVES KINDNESS but also he's a little fucked up WELL NO WONDER GIVE HIM KINDNESS ; i mean.... what makes a monster really ; well then let's get him out of his cell shall we (also hiiiii suki hello <3333)

Half Awake in Our Fake Empire by @hmslusitania | 9-1-1, buddie | teen&up | 34k words

another kid fic!!! but in a different fandom this time!!! seriously, giving buck a child fills so many of my life's needs it's ridiculous

spreadsheet notes: THEY'RE A FAMILY (thank you for giving that man a child)

a soldier (who carries a mighty sword) by @ghostinthelibrarywrites | the witcher, geralt/eskel/jaskier | explicit | 92k words

everything about this fic is wonderful!! the world(kaer morhen!!)building, the developing dynamic between geralt, jask, and eskel, ciri and yenn, the conflict, jask as a teacher!!!! aaahhhhh!

spreadsheet notes: they're my new favourite guyssss this whole fic is so cool, what they've done with kaer morhen <3333

Will We Last the Night by CSHfic & VSfic | avatar: the last airbender, zukka | teen&up | 143k words

this fic asks what if sokka had been stuck with zuko since the end of s1 and delivers a delightful answer. this is the adventures of zuko and sokka (and sometimes iroh) travelling through the earth kingdom. shenanigans ensue

spreadsheet notes: i am obsessed with this i'm just. i know it was only shortly but their life in ba sing se. obsessed

DECEMBER

Grudge Match by @catcas22 | elden ring | gen | 17k words

i'm not entirely sure how to explain this. it sure is an elden ring fic

spreadsheet notes: i don't even know what to say. this is ridiculous and brilliant and stupid and genius all at the same time. hell yeah suburban demigods

Lonely Digging by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger | stranger things, harringrove | teen&up | 3k words

this is hilarious. go read it to unlock intense life-threatening flirting

spreadsheet notes: best way to flirt billy's doing everything right

***

(quick note: i’ve tried to find everyone’s tumblr handle, but i’m aware that not all the authors have tumblr/have it on their ao3, however if i somehow missed someone, i can go back and rectify that!)

if you’ve made it all the way down here i am giving you a kiss <3

[calico-heart]

I've been musing about vampire lore in BG3 and a few fan theories floating around about Astarion, so I decided to do some lore-digging myself. This is mostly about Spawn free-will and the possibility of Vampire Brides/Grooms. If you're really into Astarion you've probably seen this all before lol

5e posits that there are "Vampires" and "Vampire Spawn." In the Monster Manual it claims:

Most of a vampire's victims become vampire spawn -- ravenous creatures with a vampire's hunger for blood, but under the control of the vampire that created them. If a true vampire allows a spawn to draw blood from its own body, the spawn transforms into a true vampire no longer under its master's control. Few vampires are willing to relinquish control in this manner. Vampire spawn become free-willed when their creator dies.

Which lines up pretty well with what Astarion says about Cazador and the nature of belonging to him.

Since the spawn in BG3 have the wherewithal to despise their master and Astarion made attempts in the past to defy him, I assume free will and independent thought aren't the same thing, here... but it does leave some grey area that I'm especially interested in.

Astarion was sent out to bring victims home. When he tries to help one escape, he's not just acting independently, he's directly defying Cazador's command. And Astarion doesn't attribute his later obedience to being compelled... he attributes it to the abuse he suffered for defying.

That just doesn't sound like Cazador has full unfettered control to me. Now, it's possible he allows some agency to his Spawn out of cruelty and just tortures them when they misbehave for fun. It's possible that the sheer number of spawn (7000) Cazador has makes them difficult to simultaneously control. I think that's all super valid.

But if we dial back to 2e and Van Richten's Guide to Vampires, there's some really cool lore there to consider. And while BG3 is based primarily on 5e lore and my inclination is to take the 5e interpretation when it makes more sense to, I don't think it's a stretch to imagine that 2e vampire lore at least served as inspiration for certain BG3 elements.

Progenitor and Offspring (pg.69)

(emphasis added)

Conventional wisdom is categorical on one point: newly-formed vampires are slaves of the creatures that created them, with no free will of their own. Even one of the most reputable tomes on the subject repeats this: "Once they become undead, the new vampire is under the complete control of its killer." But how true is this? And what constraints are there on the control that does exist? For the first days or weeks of a Fledgling vampire's existence, it is highly susceptible to the orders of its creator—so I have discovered from my research. IF there is no telepathic bond between creator and created, then the master vampire must be in the vicinity, and must be willing to communicate with its offspring. How, then, do vampires keep their slaves under their control beyond this period? They do so in much the same way that mortals dominate others: through intimidation. The fledgling is new to the vampiric world, and at least partially ignorant of its own abilities. lts creator can, if it is careful, create the perception in its offspring that the master is immensely more powerful and knowledgeable than the newly-created vampire, which it may in fact be. Through simple intimidation and by playing on the offspring's natural doubts and fears, the master can create a situation enabling it to rule for decades. The reader may realize that this situation is totally different and much more unstable than the "traditional" picture of the master and its unquestioning slaves. Offspring vampires may have considerable free will from the moment of their creation, although they do have an inborn propensity to bow to the will of their creator. After several years have passed, however, this propensity wears off. The Journal entry that opened this chapter indicates the risks that accompany creating an offspring vampire, The "master" must keep the intimidation level high and discipline tight. If the offspring senses weakness in its master, it may consider challenging for dominance or simply fleeing. As time passes the offspring vampire will learn more about its own strengths, and probably more about its master's weaknesses. As soon as the offspring believes that it may be able to defeat its master, the two creatures will almost certainly come into conflict. Of course, the majority of vampires will destroy their offspring before this point is reached. Some, however, will send them away, officially granting them their freedom. (This is merely another psychological trick, If an offspring vampire is "freed" before it realizes it can depose its "master" it may feel some gratitude toward its creator.) The vast majority of vampires view their offspring simply as disposable tools, to be used and then discarded [...] Vampires differ in their motivations when creating offspring. Some [...] do it to create slaves for themselves. [...] When a vampire is destroyed, all semblance of control over its offspring immediately vanishes, Most offspring will immediately go about their own business [...]

This... makes a lot of practical sense. There's nothing in the 5e page about vampire and spawn that claims an inherent telepathic link, so Cazador is most likely using intimidation as a means of control. And Astarion having the ability to attempt to disobey something he knew he was expected to do only makes sense if he can, actually, challenge Cazador's commands. There's a difference between scheming for personal gain in the margins of what your master did or didn't say, and outright doing something contrary to what he sent you out to do.

So I'm led to two possible (and not-mutually-exclusive) conclusions:

Spawn DO have free will and Cazador's control is based primarily on intimidation and torture.

Cazador has access to a variety of mind-bending spells that he uses to convince his Spawn they are universally beholden to him on the basis of being his creations. i.e. He lied about the source of that magical authority.

But! But!! I hear you say! The 2e guidebook talks about Vampire Fledglings up there, not Spawn. Correct!

I've seen no evidence of Spawn in 2e. Anyone killed by being drained of blood becomes a Fledgling. Vice versa, there are no Fledgling Vampires in 5e, either. The method for making a Spawn is the same as a 2e Fledgling. (p32)

In 2e, Fledglings just get more powerful as they age (p13), while in 5e, Spawn must be fed their Master's blood to raise themselves up.

So it's not a 1:1 correlation, which is worth considering if you hate the idea of all of this. It's just speculation, and I suspect it will always remain fanon because in a roleplaying game it's more important to give players agency than it is to give them immutable answers. If you don't like it, don't use it!

Ok Ok but what about the Bride Stuff?

Firstly, Ascended Astarion makes several claims.

He was forced to obey Cazador because of being a Spawn

He turned you into a Spawn (source)

He has Ascended, but it will take time and practice for him to utilize all the tools available to an Ascended Vampire (source)

You are not allowed to leave him (source)

Of these, I think only the third one can be reasonably assumed to be inarguable fact. The others may be true. They may not be.

And whether you are a bride/groom or not, it's possible that even without the Tadpole you may have free will as a default, or else as a consequence of Astarion not being able to compel you (yet) because he's not experienced enough. He may also be reluctant to harm you the same way Cazador harmed him to maintain authority.

If you accept that Cazador used personal magic to compel his Spawn, Astarion may lack that ability. Astarion may not know that Cazador was using magic. Cazador can lie, and would have reasonably done so to maintain control of his Spawn.

If you don't buy into Spawn having free-will at all without intervention... well, since Astarion supplanted the ritual as a Spawn, he may have only gained the powers Mephistopheles promised in the Ritual, and not other traditional Vampire talents... like compelling his Spawn.

Lots of angles to play with, there!

Now, while I do really enjoy the fanon of Ascended Astarion making his lover a Bride... if it's based on 2e rules, the Dark Kiss is implied to be more complicated than this:

(p72) To actually create the bride, the vampire bestows what is known as the "Dark Kiss." It samples the blood of its mortal paramour—once, twice, thrice—draining her almost to the point of death. This process causes the subject no pain; in fact, it has been described as the most euphoric, ecstatic experience, in comparison to which ail other pleasures fade into insignificance. Just as the subject is about to slip into the terminal coma from which there is no awakening, the vampire opens a gash in its own flesh—often in its throat—and holds the subject’s mouth to the wound. As the burning draught that is the vampire’s blood gushes into the subject’s mouth, the primitive feeding instinct is triggered, and she sucks hungrily at the wound, enraptured. With the first taste of the blood, the subject is possessed of great and frenzied strength, and will use it to prevent the vampire from separating her from the fountain of wonder that is its bleeding wound. [...] Once the subject has stopped feeding, she falls into a coma that lasts minutes or hours, at the end of which time she dies. Several hours later, she arises as a Fledgling vampire—and her creator’s bride.

Being turned by him can hurt. And he only gives you a single drop of blood instead of letting you feed off him as the Ritual describes. It's possible, but doesn't seem entirely likely since you don't also explicitly get any Bride-related perks like telepathic speech between each other post-Tadpoles.

Since he gives you his blood before you die, and 5e's description refers to Spawn drinking their master's blood, not pre-Spawn, I don't think he turned you into a True Vampire, either... but it's vague enough that there's room for interpretation.

So why the blood-feeding? Possibly to create doubt for players and allow them to interpret it in various ways. My personal inclination is to believe the PC becomes a Spawn, but that being fed some of his blood pre-death allowed him to offer some of his powers to you like daylight protection (he mentions sending out dark fog to protect the rest of his Spawn someday, so this benefit appears exclusive to you or otherwise limited.)

But since it's fun to explore possibilities, I'm still thinking about what being a Bride might entail if it were true and that's what he did.

2e considers all newborn vampires Fledgling, including Brides... and both of these have free will by default. There is no context within 2e lore to imply that Brides would somehow be superior to Spawn on the basis of being superior to Fledglings, because they are not superior to Fledglings except for two things. Brides don't feel the aforementioned "propensity to bow to the will of their creator" that Fledglings initially contend with and later outgrow. And (more an inferiority) Brides are not born with any innate sense of how to survive as vampires.

Although there are some folk tales that describe the bride of a vampire as its slave, in much the same way that offspring are slaves, a bride is free-willed from the moment of her creation. The creator vampire does have great influence over the bride, however, although this control is totally nonmagical. When a vampire is created in the traditional manner—that is, when a victims life energy is completely drained away—the new fledgling instinctively understands much about the vampiric way of unlife, and about its own strengths, weaknesses, and needs. Not so the bride. Newly-created brides are generally ignorant of their own capabilities. lf in Life they heard folk tales and myths about vampires, they might have some vague conception, but often these tales are totally wrong. The bride is effectively dependent—totally dependent—on her creator, to learn how to survive as a vampire. This obviously gives the creator great power over the bride. By lying to her or bending the truth, he can convince her that she must obey his every order or suffer horrible consequences. With time, and through experimentation, the bride might find out the true level of control her creator has over her—that is, none.

So, in my thinking, if Spawn can be compelled... Brides probably can, too. If Spawn have free will, Brides probably do, too. But that distinction lies entirely in personal preference, since the game never outright says you are a Bride/Groom, only implies that you are a Spawn.

Possibility Astarion is Incorrect, or Lying

If you'll remember before all this Bride nonsense, I mentioned a few things Astarion claims that may not be entirely accurate. We've already poked at the idea Spawn might have more free will than Astarion purports. But what about claiming you're a Spawn? And that you can't leave him?

He never visibly compels you, though he implies that he could and not doing so is simply a choice when you attempt to challenge him. Maybe he can be taken at his word. But with everything in this post set up to establish doubt about a Vampire's inherent ability to control any being it created through methods other than manipulation and the threat of violence... I'm thinking no. He actually can't.

And so. TL;DR I think the reasons for that could reasonably be ANY or multiple of the following:

2e elements are blended into the 5e lore: Spawn do have free will, but their masters work very hard to make them think they don't. -

5e is entirely misleading and 2e is Larian's intent: Spawn are True Vampires, they just are kept in line through ignorance, violence, and guile, about the opportunities available to them. -

Astarion does not know how to compel his Spawn to obey him because he isn't practiced enough with his new skills. -

Astarion is an Ascended Spawn, not an Ascended Vampire, and only got the specific powers described in the ritual contract. -

Astarion did turn the PC into a Vampire but is lying about it to make them think they're a Spawn. -

Astarion turned the PC into a Bride/Groom and is lying to make them think they have to obey him.

[bastetwastaken]

Writeblr intro

Hey! I’ve been around on tumblr for a while now, and have been writing for probably the best part of fifteen years but actually only posting publicly for the last three. I’ve only ever posted fanfic, but I never stopped writing original things, I’ve just never felt able to share any of it until now. So here’s a little intro for me and my writing!

General stuff:

Call me Bastet, it’s what most know me as so it’ll just be easier

In my (very) late twenties

Living in the UK.

Other hobbies outside of writing include reading, crocheting, cross stitching, hiking and spending time with my three cats.

Bi-Ace, more sex neutral.

My anxiety can make it hard for me to post consistently, but I will ALWAYS talk about my wips with anyone willing to listen to me ramble, just be prepared for those rambles to get looooooong.

Themes in my writing:

For anyone who knows me, I think it’s safe to say I lean very much toward the cliche romance which aims to leave you wanting to gag on the sweetness whilst embracing the fuzzy warmth in your chest.

I hate sad endings. My characters will always have happy ones… eventually.

I try to keep my writing light since the real world makes us all suffer enough, so any angst will usually be light touch and always necessary to the character and or plot. I do make my OCs suffer sometimes, but not needlessly.

A focus on realistic characters, character growth and character traits.

What am I working on right now?

Untitled (titles are hard) A fantasy romance between a human and the demon who accidentally saved his life.

The general plot will follow both characters as they help each other (unintentionally at first) to heal and learn, to grow together as individuals. The human gets his opportunity to confront a past which has left him feeling empty inside and unable to form meaningful relationships, and the demon gets the chance to learn a little about what it means to be human. Their first meeting turns into a deal which binds them together, then a friendship neither thought they were capable of having, and eventually something more.

The main characters: Aviditas, Avi for short, an Incubus and Silk (placeholder name) a human.

Other fun stuff:

Demonic magic

Incubus antics

Character development and growth

Healing and comfort

A little slow burn but it’s more because these two are just idiots, with Silk thinking he’s so undeserving of any kind of care on account of past events and Avi being conditioned in Hell to believe that demons are incapable of any sort of feeling that it takes them a WHILE to work things out and actually talk.

Fun tropey romance!

I’ve tried to keep this short for the sake of everyones sanity but I will talk endlessly about this story and the characters if anyone would like to know more. (But I’ll also be posting more about them anyway so…)

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Fate or Fatuity? (working title) Another fantasy romance! No surprises here. This time, following the sons of two feuding kings who meet entirely by chance and gradually grow closer.

The general plot follows the characters as they navigate their feelings, potential conflict between their kingdoms, and how to keep their relationship a secret until they can figure it all out.

The main characters: Ilua, an elf and prince of Luceras and Akoni, a Deorum and prince of Tuath De.

This story takes place in a world of my own creation called Miotas, which draws on Celtic mythology and folklore. It includes a generous amount of magic to balance out the politics, and as with all of my writing, the romance is light and fun. Spoiler alert: there’s a happy ending.

Other fun stuff:

Elven pride getting in the way of a lot of things

Instant attraction

A little bit of deception since Akoni first meets Ilua whilst he's disguised as someone else to sneak into the Deorum kingdom.

Fun tropey romance!

Magic, who doesn’t love magic?

Overcoming prejudices.

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And I’ll stop myself there otherwise this is going to be way too long.

I’ve seen people use taglists, as I’m just starting out I don’t have one existing but if you’d like to be added to one please just let me know and I’ll do so ^.^ Specify a story, or just go all in and get tagged for everything and anything I say about these stories. I’m also looking for other writers to just chat with about original writing, as coming from a fanfic background I’ve been struggling to find that, so please feel free to drop me a DM if you wanna chat

Thanks for reading <3

[medfetabdl]

Rules of my blog and about me

About me:

I am a 20 year old virgin straight male. I’ve been into medfet and age play for a while and I love it. I have a lot of hobbies but they all mainly revolve around my love for making stuff. I am a jack of all trades, I can do electrical work, carpentry, plumbing, small electronics (design, repair, and building), sewing, embroidery, welding, machining, lock picking, lock smithing, CAD (computer aided design), 3d printing, automotive repair, and a whole lot more! My career background is in the entertainment industry, I’ve been doing lighting, sound, and video since I was 12 years old.

I love to play with medical equipment as I find it really fun to play with and find it absolutely fascinating. I love to be hooked up to my Philips Intellivue monitors and I love buying stuff for them and playing around with their infinite configurability. I also really enjoy making my own medical toys to play with, I’ve slowly perfected a diy ventilator over the last two years.

I suffer from several mental disorders including ASD, ADHD, BPD, severe anxiety, and chronic depression. I am very sensitive to loud and busy environments. I find meeting new people awkward. I tend to like to talk a lot about the stuff I’m into.

I’m in search of a woman who is around my age and shares my love of medfet and age play and who understands the struggles I go through everyday.

Rules of my blog:

-I do not RP unless under specific circumstances, I am a bit more willing to RP with women under the right circumstances, I am absolutely not interested in RP with men.

-I am happy to make custom content for people but I expect to be paid for it, I’m not just going to send you custom content because you asked nicely for it. I accept payment via PayPal.

-Do not message me asking to see specific pictures of me or parts of my body. I’m just not gonna respond to men asking to see my privates or other areas of my body. If women ask I’m more willing to send a sample pic but I’m gonna expect a pic from you in response.

-I have absolutely nothing against gay people and I definitely support LGBTQ+ but I’m not the slightest bit into men.

-Feel free to use the ask me anything button, if I don’t like the question then I just won’t respond.

-I love to talk about my projects so feel free to ask me questions about them.

-I don’t tolerate homophobia, transphobia, sexism, racism, or hate of any kind, if I see this behavior from your profile you will be blocked.

-When messaging me for the first time please try to get right to the point about what you want to talk about, just saying hi or hey means I’m probably gonna ignore you.

-My profile is 18+ only, I don’t support minors being publicly involved in fetish communities. Fetishes are an awesome thing to explore and people tend to find out about them in their teens. I think it’s perfectly okay for teens to learn about fetishes and to experiment, but do not interact with fetish or sexual communities until you turn 18. I started being apart of fetish communities when I was 17 so I understand how you feel like you’re old enough for it but trust me when I say that waiting until you’re 18 is for your own safety. The internet is full of creepy people and unfortunately there are plenty of bad eggs in fetish communities who will try to take advantage of you, so it’s best to wait.

-I don’t show my face in my posts for a reason. I am not super comfortable showing myself in pics right off the bat. It’s also for my safety, I don’t want anyone I know to stumble onto these pics and hiding my face makes it significantly harder to identify me.

-I run on a one strike policy, if you break my rules once I’ll let it slide but do it again and I’m blocking you.

-If I don’t respond to your messages it’s probably because I’m not interested in talking to you, nothing personal and no offense but I’m not really here to make guy friends I have plenty of them already, I want to meet women with my ultimate goal being finding a life partner.

-I’m more likely to respond to your DMs or interact with you in general if you actually have content posted on your profile.

-I am more than happy to take requests for content you want to see me post, a full list of all my equipment is in several posts, just leave a comment on one of my posts or use the ask me anything button to make a request.

-If I buy equipment I don’t need all of or buy something to replace some of my other equipment I will definitely be giving it away to the community and the details and rules for giveaways will be in specific posts.

[amethystina]

i still like your idea of the fanfic where, soohyun gets injured but doesn't die, and the rest is canon but gaon doesn't know yohan is alive... You put it in one of the chapters note (i forgot which chapter) i am a sucker for angst and i like to give myself sadness lol... I can imagine how broken and angst ridden gaon would be. It would be a devastating sight but also delicious.

It is a fascinating thought! But, admittedly, also the idea I'm the least likely to write out of all the ones I've come up with — for the very same reason why you like it x'D

I'm really not a fan of angst and sadness and, sometimes, I can look at a story idea and realise that it wouldn't be fun for me to write. And this one is, unfortunately, one of those. Because it would focus so much on Ga On's grief and his failing relationship with Soo Hyun and I just... don't want to write that?

Sure, it would be fascinating, but also way too depressing for me. Partly because I don't see an easy solution. Like, even if Ga On eventually finds out that Yo Han is alive, just how bad would he feel? How bad would they both feel? And just how much more pain and anguish would they have to wade through? Would they even be willing to try?

Basically, now that I've had time to think about it further, I've realised that it just doesn't work. The math isn't mathing in this scenario, at least not for a fic written in my fairly realistic and down-to-earth style.

Because it would, quite frankly, be easier for them to just cut their losses and continue living their separate lives. I think the hurt would be too much for either of them to come to terms with and reconcile. So, on top of being a very depressing story overall, it wouldn't have a happy ending, either. Which means it immediately gets disqualified because I only want happy endings xD

I wouldn't be able to give it a happy ending with a clear conscience because, sure, we all know Yo Han is a vicious asshole and Ga On is good at forgiving him. But this?

Faking his own death for months, maybe years, and not telling Ga On about it, instead leaving him to grieve — on top of all the guilt he's already feeling? And for what? Because Yo Han was hurt? Because he was jealous of Soo Hyun? Because he wanted to punish Ga On?

Well, Yo Han would certainly achieve that.

Ga On would be an absolute wreck.

And, to be entirely honest with you, I think Ga On would be too broken after spending only god knows how long thinking Yo Han is dead because of him. Because, let's face it — that's what Ga On would believe.

I wouldn't know how to fix that. I don't want to fix it because if Yo Han truly did all that to Ga On — something so vindictive and cruel — I'd side with Soo Hyun and say that it's probably best for the two of them to stay apart. Because, clearly, they're going to destroy each other eventually. Especially since Ga On would most likely become suicidal again. And Yo Han must have predicted that might happen but still chose not to tell Ga On about being alive.

And, sure, I understand being hurt and angry — Yo Han has no obligation to forgive Ga On for the things he did. But to intentionally choose to put another person — someone you care about — in a situation where you know they might end up wanting to take their own life? Just to get revenge?

Unforgivable, in my opinion.

But that leads us to the part where we also have to ask if Yo Han truly would do that and, personally, I don't think so. Maybe that's me giving Yo Han too much grace, but I really don't think he'd be that cruel considering how much he cares about Ga On. Maybe he wants Ga On to suffer a bit, sure, but not die.

So, in the end, the whole thing is a bit of a moot point x'D

The scenario doesn't work with how I choose to interpret these characters.

I think a more likely outcome if Soo Hyun doesn't die is that Yo Han would still do all the things he does in the drama, including telling Ga On that he's alive, but then go radio silent. Like, go to Switzerland and just focus on himself and Elijah. But do it more firmly than in Who Holds the Devil when he always had plans to return. Here he wouldn't.

Which is painful, too, but not quite as bad as "I'm knowingly letting you think you had a hand in killing me." And Ga On would still wallow and he'd still realise that his relationship with Soo Hyun isn't what he thought it would be, but without the looming threat of Ga On's (in my opinion) likely suicide. They might actually be able to reconcile eventually.

But, even then, I'm not sure if this is a story I would want to write. At least not right now when I'm already struggling with both my physical and mental well-being. It just wouldn't be healthy for me and, most likely, not something I'd enjoy. Some people get a feeling of release and catharsis from writing about difficult things, but I'm not one of them. I just end up feeling worse because I have to immerse myself in the misery to a point where I just sink even deeper into it.

So while I agree that this is an interesting and quite dramatic scenario, I've realised it's just not for me. In more ways than one xD

But if someone else wants to write it, then go for it! :D

[kassandras-one-braincell]

I believe I promised some word vomit about an AU that has been rotting in my brain for about a year. It yearns to be free. Yes, it predictably revolves around the knight-princess concept. And while I genuinely have too many thoughts to conceivably put onto a page, I want to share it with you, because it makes me happy

The concept: an ancient oath that binds a knight's undying protection to a person of royal status, on fear of death

The reader in this is a princess, and while I won't give them a concrete personality, the AU does have some foundations in the princess' role to the kingdom. They're successful, philanthropic and dignified. (I aspire to be these things in a much better version of myself, and this is a bit of a comfort au lmao)

The backstory is obscenely elaborate in my head but the gist is, you are the heir to the throne. Your father passed before you were of age to ascend to the throne, and your mother remarried to the current king regent because she wanted you to be genuinely ready to rule by the time of your coronation. His reign is a fixed term spanning a decade or two because he’s a consort and there’s some old law dictating this. I can never decide on the actual duration.

His reign is nearing its end. The court and the public are optimistic about your coronation. You’re a believer in progress and innovation, and have pledged vast, accessible education to the children of the kingdom on top of the schools you’ve already built. A generation of well-educated kids will be a boon to the economy in future years, so the court is mostly all for it. There are a few who feel threatened by the idea, of course, and the investment in the future means less money padding their pockets, which they’re not fond of either.

The King however has adult children from his previous marriage whom he envisions as his successors, despite the terms of his reign forbidding it, unless you were to die. Knowing there are a few very willing co-conspirators amongst the court nobles, and that you vehemently refuse marriage and having children (self-projection, sorry), he sees a clear avenue in securing the line of ascension for his offspring. Plus, he'd no longer be legally obligated to abdicate.

In the same big legal book that lays out the terms surrounding an acting monarch, there is an oath that is seldom undertaken, rooted in ye olde tradition. With a witness present, a single person may pledge undying allegiance to a member of the royal family. They would be entrusted with their life, and expected to lay down their own if it ensured the royal’s survival. The Oathsworn is regarded as an elite ranking within the royal guard, and expected to undertake additional martial duties alongside being personally responsible for the safety of the royal in question, who must give consent alongside the witness to the pledge. Breaking the Oath is high treason. The royal’s untimely death counts as a breaking of the vows, so the Oathsworn scene is pretty stagnant.

Kassandra, Soma and Eivor all have their own trajectories based on this.

Soma's is...big. I suffer from chronic undying-love-for-unromancable-npc-itis. Kassandra's is comparatively undercooked. Eivor's is a work in progress, put generously. I do love Eivor, really, it's just whenever I try to build something for her in this universe, she quickly becomes Soma. See diagnosis. But I'm going to build on them, even if the ideas aren't as long or thoroughly explored, because it's fun :)