#i have enough hyperfixation to think about it tho

[queseraphita]

Lies of P could exist in Yoko Taro's Drakenier universe, and no one would even notice it being anywhere out of place

*smacks my string conspiracy board*

WHITE CHOLORNATION SYNDROME

[hiddeninthe-veil]

.

[thejolteonmastertj]

Ppl being surprised that the first book was written in 2010 have me laughing b/c as someone who once had a hyperfixation with the history of medicine, like… yea this is just how modern books talk about past peoples.

During like the 1990s & early 2000s there was like, this comically blatant shift… I thiiiiink the chiropractors (for some reason) and/or antivaxxers sent everyone into a panic & like, for some reason ppl thought this sort of writing about the past would convince ppl to vaccinate their kids?

Something something, “progress is awesome!~ We’d all be miserable~ & die of dysentery without it! Uwu, Yippie~”

Idk, but yeah, now every book written about the past either romanticizes tf outtof it (& often wants to sell you vitamins lol) or downright dehumanizes people’s ancestors & there’s like no in-between lmao.

(Some of this looking down on past peoples did exist before the 1990s of/c, but it wasn’t as universal among the books I found, & was also easier to spot b/c it was often fueled by like old-old-school racism)

I shit you not the only source on the History Of Medicine I’d feel comfortable recommending without a ton of attached correction notes is the Extra History channel on YouTube. & that’s not even because I used to be a YouTuber(TM) myself.

I’ve read the Ghost Map & it admittedly came close but I’m sorry I’d have to add a sticky note telling you that 1.) Cholera patients needed salt, not water, & 2.) Yes, the doctors did, actually, try to rehydrate their patients. It didn’t work. Because salt.

Like for real the assumption that past peoples pre-modern-inventions were stupid & miserable is just… really is that deeply rooted. Welcome to the ancient history fandom my friend. You’re going to see a lot more where this came from.

So I got this book out of the library, about Babylon, and it immediately put me off by the way it talks about how the ancient Mesopotamians were the FIRST EVAR to want to IMPROVE THEIR LIVES so they made cities and it was a RADICAL BREAK from the past and has the author mentioned how they were the FIRST EVAR and all the people around mired in the past just doing things the way grandpa and grandma always did because it never occurred to them to improve their lives must have been astonished and everyone clapped?

Like, I'm here for talking up ancient cities and all, but seriously? Nobody else ever made cities? No one invented anything until Uruk? No one has since without following a Mesopotamian example? REALLY???

But then I came across this picture (I was flipping ahead to the glossy pages with photos, as you do)

It's a picture of a clay bowl. Clearly not made on a wheel, uneven, but with its own kind of charm to it. And the caption says, "The aesthetic deprivation of the non-elite: Crudely moulded bevelled-rim bowls are found all over Mesopotamia, dating from the Uruk era--fourth millenium BCE"

I just....I just can't. Aesthetic deprivation. Because it doesn't match your idea of Fancy. Because maybe you think non-elite aesthetics are just garbage.

I know nothing about the aesthetic goals of the potter who made this bowl, I just hate the person who wrote the caption too much to finish reading the book. It's absolutely on me. I'm sure he's a lovely person, I wish him well in his life, but I can't continue reading. Back to the library you go.

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 8 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 9k

A/N: HAPPY ONE MONTH ANNIVERSARY TO AURORA!!! I can't even believe I got this far with this fic. Fucking 50k+ words in a month??? Hyperfixation REALLY go boom! It also happens to be my birthday today 🫠 my age is definitely starting to sound WAY TOO SERIOUS now. welp. ANYWAYS - an anon motivated me to create a playlist for aurora, so here it is!!! These are some of the songs that I listen on repeat when I'm writing. Not all of the lyrics have anything to do with the story tho, some just match the vibe of the fic. Though, if I had to choose a "theme song" for Aurora, it'd definitely be Darkness At The Heart of My Love - Ghost. I know metal isn't everybody's cup of tea but in my brain, vampires = metal. And specifically Castlevania = Rammstein for some reason lmao. Anyway!! I hope you guys give it at least (1) listen, as I really think the playlist encapsules the vibes I'm trying to portray in my writing very well. ANYWAYS!!! LET ME SHUT UP!! ENJOY THIS BEAST OF A CHAPTER <3

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

? Years Ago

Jerash, Ottoman Empire

The moon was hidden behind heavy storm clouds that night.

The rain whipped against the walls and ceiling of the humble house. It consisted of only two rooms – the kitchen and a tiny bedroom with simple wooden furniture. One would consider it the house of a common peasant, but the hundreds of books piled over one another indicated otherwise. They were everywhere: over the table, stored on shelves, precarious bookcases and boxes… some looked ancient, some looked new. Some had intricate leather covers, beautiful handwriting and illustrations, while others were nothing but a bunch of pages with incomprehensible scribbles. It was even difficult to walk into the house without stepping over one.

The place smelled of spices. Many types of dried herbs were hanging around the kitchen. Different types of stones of all colors and sizes rested over the closed windowsill: quartz, crystals, amethysts, obsidian, malachites… colorful bird feathers were tied by threads in intricate designs, also hanging from the ceiling. All of that was supposed to provide “protection” against the “evil”, apparently.

Drolta hated that place.

No… hate was too strong of a word. To hate someone or something, you must care about it enough, and Drolta didn’t. She was… disgusted. All the dirt, the simplicity, the cheap magic that wouldn’t even hurt a fly… it was boring.

And the owner of that house was especially disgusting.

That short, bald creature finally appeared from inside the bedroom, carrying a heavy book in hands and an annoying large smile. When all this ended – and hopefully it would end very soon –, Drolta would make sure to kill this little man and take a long, really long bath to take his smell off her skin. She didn’t even plan on feeding off him. He didn’t deserve it. Drolta refused to drink from a neck that wasn’t soft, young and feminine.

“Here it is. The product of all of my researches over the years,” he claimed proudly. What was even his name? Was it Khalil? She didn’t remember. Before looking at her face, his eyes stopped for two seconds on her cleavage. He did it every time and hadn’t been trying to hide it ever since Drolta stepped foot into this thing he called home.

Men… oh, how easy men are. Drolta witnessed multiple changes in the world during her long lifetime. She saw empires rise and fall, cultures cease to exist, philosophies and religions sweep the Earth. But one thing that had never changed over all this time was the simplicity of men. All she needed to do was put on a tighter corset, a deeper cleavage… and she had him on the palm of her hand. Drolta didn’t even need to try much much harder. This little Khalil man was the type she despised the most: the needy type. Never got married. Judged too strange by his fellow villagers. Probably never felt the touch of a woman. He was desperate.

But he had something that Drolta valued after all: knowledge. There was a time when the world was full of magicians. Speakers, priestesses, witches, oracles, shamans, alchemists… actual scholars of the ways of magic. But that was before the fucking Church. Now, apparently, all humans knew how to do was kneel and pray for a God that could not grant them any power.

Drolta was aware that she was partially at fault in all this. However, she would redeem herself soon.

When she finally succeeded in bringing Sekhmet back to life, this Earth would know what a real Goddess is. A Goddess with real power, real impact, who could bring real fear and obedience and adoration.

Soon, she thought to herself. I can feel it. She will come back soon. I will bring her back soon.

So many centuries of preparation. So many sun cycles searching for the right candidate. She had finally, finally encountered someone whose body managed to withstand Sekhmet’s power. Erszebet Bathory grew more powerful every day; the holy blood she drank was slowly but surely changing her body, her soul, empowering her. Drolta could feel Sekhmet’s presence in this world getting stronger. She could feel her goddess through Erszebet, talking through her, striving to resurface through that vessel. Everything was going so well.

And yet – all of her effort was still not enough, because half of Sekhmet’s soul was still missing.

Aside from taking care of the vessel, Drolta and her sisters roamed Earth after the Ba – Sekhmet’s mummy. For some reason, it was always out of reach: stolen from someone, bought by someone, then stolen again, then auctioned… Drolta was always too late. She prayed, prayed, prayed ardently that her beloved Goddess would help her from the other side, give her a sign, maybe twist things a bit so she could have a chance… but oh, she knew her Goddess was too weak to help. Drolta knew she would have to find a way.

And although all odds seemed to be working against her, Drolta found another way. Drolta thought of another chance.

As far as her associates scattered around the world knew, the mummy was lost forever. She completely lost track of it somewhere in the Horn of Africa; the last news she heard about it was years ago. As much as Drolta despised the idea – as much as she’d like to personally torture whoever committed such blasphemy towards the body of Sekhmet –, she had to be realistic and assume that the mummy was, perhaps, definitely gone.

But Drolta wouldn’t let herself be drowned by despair. No. Despair was the enemy of reason. She had to be strong – for Sekhmet, for her sisters, for her goal.

So another idea grew into her mind.

Drolta was under possession of Sekhmet’s blood, the Ka; the Goddess’ Ba, the mummy, was out of reach.

And then there was the third piece of her soul which was also out of reach.

Except… maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe there was a way to reach into it.

Yes, she knew no one had ever managed to do it. Yes, she knew the possibility of failure was high. Yes, she knew that, perhaps, it was all but a delusion. However, Drolta couldn’t be sure without trying first. If there was even the smallest possibility of it working, she would go on with it.

She had to do it – and do it fast. Drolta had never met anyone that could take so much of Sekhmet’s blood, but even her couldn’t take much more; the Goddess needed her other half.She could not lose Erszebet; she would do anything in her power to keep that woman safe.

Which led Drolta to this annoying mortal man.

He was disgusting. He smelled bad. He had the audacity of assuming he was going to fuck her. And still, he was an alchemist – and there weren’t many alchemists in the world anymore. Not good ones, at least. Drolta wasted her time going after a famous alchemist in China months ago, but she turned out to be a charlatan. As far as Drolta knew, this one was real. Maybe not powerful like mortal alchemists used to be, but he could do the job.

“From the information I have gathered, it hasn’t been tried in centuries,” Khalil spoke with amazement and reverence. It truly was the work of his life, apparently. “Not many scholars even believe it happened, in fact… it is under deep discussion. However, the ones that believe it, report that the occurrence happened in Wallachia, when a certain alchemist tried to… well…”

Khalil averted his eyes, seeming embarrassed and hesitant. Oh, the traits of a man that has been laughed at and ridiculed his entire life. Drolta felt grateful that he was this way. Much easier to deal with.

She rested her hand on his forearm and looked at him with round, curious eyes – even though she already knew what he was trying to say.

“Tried to what? Please, tell me,” she asked in a honeyed voice.

Khalil probably had an erection at that moment. His face flushed and he smiled.

“Tried to bring D-Dracula back to life,” he finally let out. “Yeah, I know it sounds absurd. I-I mean, Dracula? The folk tale to scare kids? How is that even possible?”

“I don’t find it absurd at all,” Drolta said, shaking her head softly. “Please, continue.”

The man averted his gaze from hers sheepishly, holding the book just a tiny bit stronger.

“Y-You are the first person to ever take me seriously, Miss Danubia,” Danubia? Oh… it’s the name she made up for herself. She had almost forgotten. “I… I really appreciate it.”

What, are you going to cry? Spare me.

Drolta caressed his arm softly.

“I admire your intelligence. I’d sit with you and talk for hours about all of your discoveries,” the idea sickened her, in fact. But Drolta couldn’t just force him to do anything. As far as she knew, the entire process had to be done willingly, otherwise it wouldn’t work.

For fuck’s sake, it really looked like he wanted to cry. Khalil blinked rapidly and looked down at the book again.

“Apparently, the portal was opened directly into Hell in order to retrieve Dracula’s soul. But it’s entirely possible that, through this same ritual, I could try to reach into other realms, too…” For the first time, Khalil looked hesitant. He gulped. “Though, if I’m to be completely honest, Miss Danubia, I do not believe I have the expertise needed to lead such a powerful ritual.”

Drolta stepped back, letting go of his forearm.

Khalil looked up at her, slightly startled at her sudden lack of touch.

But then, Drolta looked down, putting her hands over her chest and…

Tears welled up her eyes.

“I-I wish you could understand my pain and my despair, Khalil,” she started, voice trembling. “My mother… my dear mother. I could never tell her goodbye before her death. She had such a painful, slow death…” Drolta looked at him again, a single tear streaming down her cheek. “I do not wish to retrieve her soul, Khalil; I understand this goes against the laws of nature. I just want to… talk to her. In my culture, we believe that the souls of our deceased goes to the duat. If I can just get a peek of it… just look at her face once more… you will have my eternal gratitude. I-I can’t let this chance go by…”

Drolta covered her mouth and sobbed. With the corner of her eyes, she saw Khalil rush to put the heavy book over the table and bring her a handkerchief. She didn’t want to put that stinky thing near her face, but took it anyway and wiped her tears delicately.

Khalil pressed his lips together. All the hesitance was gone, being replaced by determination.

“I believe I can do it, Miss Danubia.” He inhaled before speaking. “The g-good feelings I have for you will be my guide and shield.”

Drolta offered him a sweet smile and a fragile thank you.

Khalil took off his coat and pushed the small table to the farthest corner of the room. He then took a piece of white chalk and started to draw something on the floor.

“This is the symbol of Osiris, Egyptian god of the Underworld… or the duat,” he explained while he drew. As if Drolta didn’t already know it. Yet, she acted shocked, trying to engage him in conversation as he lit a circle of candles around the hieroglyph. She needed him content and willing. Mortals work better when they are in their best feelings; they tend to put much more of their force into what they are doing, and this, in magic terms, was extremely meaningful.

Drolta loathed the fact that she needed this man happy to achieve her goal, but it was necessary. Well, if not happy, then hard. Sexual energy can also be extremely powerful.

After Khalil finished his preparations for the ritual, Drolta approached him and held his hand.

The man visibly held his breath.

It was so easy for her to send him that sweet gaze. So easy to trap his entire attention on her, as if Drolta became the very air in his lungs. She leaned down slightly and pressed her soft lips on his cheek, making sure to stay there a second longer than necessary, before leaning away a delivering a smile that showed quiet sadness and care.

“If you succeed, Khalil, you will have my heart eternally,” she purred in an almost whisper.

He was shocked.

It really looked like he couldn’t breathe.

Finally, he managed to crack a smile. He puffed his chest like a pathetic male bird and nodded as Drolta stepped away.

“I will, my lady. For you.”

She held back laughter.

Finally, Khalil took his heavy book again and stood near the candle ring. The flames projected eerie shadows around the walls; the outside storm was everything they could hear. He placed the book in front of his feet and took a small knife from his pocket.

“Blood is required to initiate the ritual,” he explained. “You can look away if it makes you uncomfortable, my lady.”

Khalil didn’t see when she rolled her eyes this time.

He swiped the knife on his palm, wincing in pain as he did. Weak little human, can’t even stand a cut without crying. He let blood drip over the symbol on the floor before walking back to the candle ring and taking the book in his hands once more.

He took a deep breath before finally initiating the spell.

His pronunciation of Akkadian was bad. Laughable, even. Drolta could barely understand half of the words. And yet, it was enough.

The candles trembled. The air within the house got colder. Drolta felt the floor beneath her feet shake slightly, the air vibrate in a high frequency – the frequency of high magic.

It was working.

A grin slowly grew on her lips. She… underestimated this little man after all. He was an actual alchemist – but the ritual was only working because of her efforts, she realized. Khalil was putting all of his love into the spell. Yes, actual love. How such a naive creature fell in love with her so quickly after a few days of knowing each other was beyond her.

Love is also extremely powerful in magical terms.

The storm grew angrier out there. A thunder so loud and so close shook the entire house, made Khalil lost his focus for a second before continuing to read the spell.

Followed by another thunder – even closer this time.

And another thunder.

The ground shook. Some books fell from the shelves. Khalil lifted his head and looked towards the window.

There was another sound mixed within the cacophony of the heavy storm.

Screams.

What was that out there? Was the house of his neighbor burning?

“W-What is–?” Khalil stuttered.

He hadn’t noticed that Drolta was towering right behind him. How did she get so close so fast?

She held his head with both hands from behind, guiding it down towards the book again.

“Keep reading,” she instructed in a quiet whisper, her mouth close to his ear.

A violent shiver ran down Khalil’s spine.

For the first time, Drolta’s presence made him feel uneasy. Her voice changed drastically; it wasn’t welcoming anymore, or warm, or caring. It was just freezing cold. It… it didn’t even sound much human.

All these talismans he hung around his house for protection – and yet the worst evil he could possibly imagine was standing right behind him, welcomed by him with open arms.

Another thunder. Another fire. Another house burning down. A few more souls to fuel the spell.

Khalil could be a real alchemist, but he was far from being a good one, Drolta remarked to herself. All of those books taught him nothing – again, she had to do most of the job. In the few days she worked on gaining his trust, she also made sure to mark every house in the village of Jerash with the symbol or Osiris. Marked it with virgin blood to make it even more effective.

Every respectable alchemist knew that in order to open a door into the Infinite Corridor, multiple mortal lives were required. That is why most alchemists weren’t brave enough to do it.

Khalil wouldn’t be brave enough to do it too if he knew what it’d cost. That is why Drolta lured him into it and made the preparations behind his back.

Drolta chuckled. How he must had been feeling at that moment, knowing he sacrificed hundreds of lives of his fellow villagers in the hopes of sticking his tiny penis inside of her?

“I told you to keep reading,” she repeated, and this time her voice sounded like a dangerous hiss.

Khalil’s hands trembled. He gulped. His voice wasn’t as confident anymore, but he had already initiated the ritual; there was no coming back from there.

The floor shook as more souls were reaped into the spell. Suddenly, the windows opened all at once; the ceiling cracked and was swiped away by a violent gush of wind. Drolta looked up in time to see a funnel of souls converging into a single streak of red light, being attracted by the symbol of Osiris on the floor; they made a twister within the circle of candles that were somehow still lit despite everything.

Wind and rain whipped Drolta and Khalil, made his books fly in all directions. None of that bothered Drolta. She had a maniacal grin on her lips, eyes locked in the chaos unveiling in front of her eyes.

Finally, finally, finally, a white crack slashed the air inside the candle ring. A crack in reality itself.

Freezing cold wind came out of it. The crack was slowly but surely getting wider. It made Drolta’s eyes widen, shivers run her body; few times in her life did she witness magic so powerful, so strong, so chilling.

It was working. It was finally working.

She stepped aside from a shell-shocked Khalil and extended her arms in a wide movement, the smile never vanishing from her lips.

A door to the Infinite Corridor, opened right in front of her eyes.

And yet – her work wasn’t done. This door needed to be redirected; it needed to be aimed at the right place.

“Oh Sekhmet, Eye or Ra, Lady of Terror, Mistress of Dread, She Who Mauls; hear mine calling, let thou be guided by the voice of thy loyal servant!” Drolta chanted with all her might, raising her voice as to be heard beyond the storm and the magic and the weeping souls.

The crack got a bit wider. Insurmountable amount of energy escaped from inside. Drolta didn’t even know if Khalil could stand in front of it much longer, given how weak he was, so she needed to rush.

“Hear mine call, Your Magnificence!” Drolta continued, gesticulating in wide movements. “Let mine voice guide thee through the waters of the primordial abyss; let thy Akh resurface in the land of the living. Oh Sekhmet, Lady of Slaughter, She of Ten Thousand Names; walk back into thy rightful realm, retake the throne unfairly taken from thee, wear thy rightful crown once more!”

The crack got wider, wider, wider. It was difficult to understand what could be seen inside of it; it looked like a confusing kaleidoscope. Different images jumped in the blink of an eye, landscapes not even Drolta could understand. And yet, she kept chanting, hoping her energy would be the necessary guide. The mark of Osiris burned in bright red.

Finally – the image within the crack seemed to stabilize itself.

Drolta’s eyes widened.

She saw a… calm river. A temple made of gold in the distance, sitting atop of an island. A pyramid. Purple trees adorned it; the tip of the pyramid shone with a blinding light. The most beautiful sky she had ever seen.

That was it. It was the duat.

Drolta got even more passionate in her speech; her throat ached from screaming.

“Hear mine voice, Lady Sekhmet! Hear mine voice! Come to me!” She begged. Finally, finally, finally, her goddess was right there; after years and years of searching and fighting for her and protecting her legacy and trying to find ways to revive her, after so many frustrated attempts of retrieving her mummy... Finally, Sekhmet’s Akh was right there in front of her eyes.

Finally, Drolta had succeeded.

All she needed to do was cross the door. Drolta couldn’t enter the duat, but Sekhmet could cross it towards the land of the living. Drolta held a small shabti made of pure gold in her hand, the holy object in which she could safely store the third part of Sekhmet’s soul. From there, Erzsebet would only need to incorporate it.

Come to me, Sekhmet; come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me–

Something happened.

The image twisted.

“What?” Drolta gasped.

The sight of the duat blurred.

Suddenly, the winds that whipped the house got stronger, more violent. The soul twister got more chaotic. Now, everything that could be seen within the door was the kaleidoscope of colors again, passing rapidly.

It… started to get black.

“No! No! What are you doing?!” Drolta turned to Khalil, her wrath so big that made him tremble. But the man was frozen in place, tears falling down his cheeks mixed with the rain.

“I-I-I’m not doing anything!” He stuttered. “It wasn’t me!”

Drolta turned to the door again.

The air was getting even colder. Colder, colder, colder… freezing. The Osiris symbol suddenly started to burn in black – and then everything else was black. The souls, the flames of the candles, the energy rays that poured from the door.

The air smelled of coal and sulfur.

“No! Stop! Stop!” Drolta yelled at whatever was interfering with the ritual. “I don’t want you here. I didn’t call you!”

But it was too late.

A second before the explosion, Drolta saw a dark figure walk out of the door.

She had time to protect her face with her arms. She did not care about Khalil.

Boom.

The shockwave destroyed what remained of Khalil’s house; he was sent back flying meters away. The reaped souls let their final, painful yell before dissipating in the air. The candles were extinguished in a gush of wind.

Drolta was the only thing to remain standing in place.

She lowered her arms slowly. It seemed that even the heavy storm got timid after such an unnatural occurrence. The neighbor houses still burned; the fires spread down the hill. As it wasn’t magical fire anymore, the rain started to quiet them down. No voices were heard. No more screams. No live witnesses anymore. The village of Jerash became nothing but a burning cemetery.

Drolta fell to her knees.

A shrilling scream of pure anger crossed the air.

She had failed. She got so fucking close and failed yet again. The duat was right there in front of her and she failed.

She turned around to see Khalil’s body on the floor.

Drolta got up, red anger clouding her gaze. He was still alive – hurt, bleeding and crying, but still alive.

“You stupid piece of shit!” She kicked his stomach so hard that the men rolled a few more meters away. “Useless little man. I submitted myself to your disgusting presence for days and you still didn’t serve me anything!”

Khalil coughed blood. He refused to look at her, shrinking into his own body, crying like a child.

She should skin him alive. This, at least, would serve as a way to calm down.

And yet – she stopped in her tracks.

Rain still fell over her head. She was entirely drenched. Drolta stopped and inhaled, letting her anger quiet down.

There was someone talking to her.

Something.

The air still smelled of coal and sulfur. It had nothing to do with the burning houses.

Slowly, she turned back to the circle of candles.

Her eyes widened.

There was someone laying on the floor inside the circle. She rushed towards it.

It was… it was a woman.

For a moment, overwhelming joy and excitement rushed through her veins. Could it be who she thought it was? What if she had actually succeeded, but in a different way than she first expected?

What if that was Sekhmet incarnate?!

Drolta knelt down beside the woman. She was unconscious, laid on her side, completely naked. With care – even hesitancy – Drolta turned her body around, making the woman lay on her back. She took some strands of drenched hair away from her face.

It was a young woman. Her chest moved slowly, as if she was simply asleep.

Drolta frowned.

She pressed two fingers over her neck. A regular pulse. The scent of… regular mortal blood.

Her frown deepened.

“This is no Sekhmet,” Drolta said through gritted teeth. “This is just human woman.”

Then, she lifted her gaze – and finally noticed what was talking to her.

It was nothing but a strange, tall shadow; Drolta could barely make sense of what she was looking at. But yet, that grin was very much recognizable. The entity seemed weak, vibrating in a low frequency, making the entire area around it even colder.

“Did you bring her with you?” She asked. The entity answered. It didn’t use… words. It spoke into her mind with intentions instead. Perhaps, it was way too weak to vocalize.

Drolta huffed with disdain. “And what use would this mortal have?”

The entity moved slowly, circling around them.

Drolta froze in place.

“How do you know this?” She asked in a cautious hiss.

The entity’s grin seemed to get even wider, now knowing that it had Drolta’s full attention.

It continued sliding around Drolta. The vampire lowered her head, looking at the human woman once again.

She looked and looked and looked and looked and…

She remembered.

Slowly, Drolta’s eyes widened as realization hit her.

This… wouldn’t solve all of her problems. She still needed to find the other half of Sekhmet’s soul. And yet… it could also serve her plans, in a way.

Drolta once again lifted her gaze towards the grinning shadow.

“I know you wouldn’t be offering me this out of the goodness of your heart,” she started with suspicion. “What do you want of me in return?”

The entity trembled. Drolta leaned her head slightly.

“An easy task. And if I fail?”

The entity grinned at her quietly. Drolta chuckled.

“You won’t have it, for I won’t fail.” She got up to her feet again. “But this sounds like a fair deal.”

A fair pact, in fact.

Drolta extended her arm towards the entity. It approached her; the shadow extended too in what resembled an arm. It revolved around her hand with a chilling touch.

When the shadow retreated, there was an icy object over Drolta’s palm.

A ruby necklace.

Drolta nodded at the entity; it sent her a last eerie grin before disappearing into the shadows of the night.

It was done.

Drolta looked down.

She took the cloak off her shoulders and covered the woman’s naked body with it. She leaned down, taking her into her arms, before straightening her posture again.

It… wasn’t a complete failure, after all.

Her Goddess never left her without a way out. She was always kind to send Drolta another option, another strategy, and that’s why Drolta managed to survive and move on after every problem.

“For every suffering, a wisdom is gained,” she said quietly. The mantra that had been keeping her sane for centuries.

Khalil was still weeping some meters away from her. Drolta paid him no mind. He wasn’t totally useless in the end, which meant he gained the right to keep living.

Drolta walked away from the burning cemetery of Jerash with the unconscious woman in her arms, the ruby necklace safely tangled around her palm.

The heavy storm clouds opened a small breach for the first time; the moon peeked through, being the only witness of the horrors that had unveiled that night.

Present time

Paris, France

The sun had hidden behind the horizon at least three hours ago.

You looked out the window at the full moon reigning sovereign in the sky from the tiny inn bedroom. There were barely any clouds to hinder its view. Stars adorned the space around her, creating a breathtaking view.

And yet, the air was… eerie.

Maybe because you knew what was about to come, and the fact that the rest of the city didn’t know yet made the situation horrifying. So many people were probably having dinner with their families, resting their heads over their pillows, having no idea of the hell that was about to burst upon them.

What made the situation even more difficult was that you were, well, useless in the middle of it all.

Richter and Annette were hunting nests of vampires. Alucard was about to leave to talk to the leaderships of Paris in order to organize the defensive lines. The three of them, much obviously, were ready to fight.

And you? All you had was a useless golden scepter.

Maybe you had your hopes way too high after what happened at the Louvre. You remembered what Annette told you when you first met – you might be a witch, Ruby; you just don’t remember it. You thought that, the moment you put your hands over the artifact again, you’d have some sort of epiphany. Your past would unveil itself in your head, you’d finally understand Erzsebet and Drolta’s interest in you, you’d know why you were needed to summon eclipses…

But nothing happened.

The scepter was just heavy and very impractical to carry around.

Alucard had no idea what language the inscriptions were. He advised you to not read them out loud, as it wasn’t clear the effect it could cause. You also didn’t magically understand what these words meant. So… just another frustration to add onto the pile.

“Ruby, I’m talking to you.”

You jumped and turned your head around. Alucard was standing in front of the door, searching for something in the inside pocket of his coat and eyeing you with curiosity. You adjusted your posture where you were sitting on the bed.

“I’m sorry. I… wasn’t paying attention.” You said sheepishly.

The white-haired vampire paused for a moment.

“Are you scared of being on your own?” He asked quietly.

You shook your head. “No! Not at all. I’ll be fine.” You reassured.

To be honest, being alone wasn’t exactly an idea you liked. The last three days were the safest you’d ever felt in your life, and that was because you were around them. You tried to avoid picturing the horrifying image of Drolta in her new night creature form breaking through that window and dragging you back to the chateau. There’s no way this is going to happen, not now that she retrieved Sekhmet’s mummy… I’m not needed anymore.

But the idea you liked even less was of being a burden, and you knew you’d be a burden if you kept hanging around uselessly while they fought. Annette almost died due to your mere presence. You were sure everyone would’ve handled the fight much better if you simply weren’t there. So… it’d be better if you just stayed hidden at the inn for the time being.

Alucard shrugged slightly and approached, finally revealing what he was searching for in his coat: a… red string?

He sat by your side on the bed, eyes glued on it. The only source of light came from the moon outside and a single candle holder over the desk. The light of the timid flame created a golden silhouette on his delicate features.

“The Revolutionary Commune is reunited some blocks away from here at this moment,” Alucard explained while his fingers worked on measuring the string. You watched him in silent confusion. His voice always dropped even quieter when he was close to you like that. It was… comforting. He was so close that his arm brushed on yours. “I must go warn them about the incoming fight. There will most definitely be vampires roaming the streets right now, hence why you must stay hidden for the time being.”

You nodded. “I understand.”

You watched as Alucard tied the red string around his own left wrist skillfully. How did he even manage to tie something with a single hand? That was quite impressive. “I won’t take more than two hours, however. After I assure your safety within the Revolutionary Commune, I will come to pick you up.”

Then, he brought his wrist close to his mouth; he put the remaining length of the string between his teeth and cut it using his sharp fangs.

Oh.

You couldn’t help but feel shivers run your spine whenever you remembered that Alucard had vampire fangs. He was half vampire, in fact. It was a bit strange how, as you grew comfortable around him, this “detail” became less and less relevant; you always associated vampires with the worst things possible, while Alucard was much the opposite. Perhaps that’s why it was a bit surprising to remember part of him was one.

You also had noticed that Alucard didn’t open much of his mouth when he talked… and it seemed to be a very conscious act when he was in public. You payed attention to how he talked to those boys earlier. Was it an attempt to make his fangs less obvious?

“Give me your left wrist.” He asked. You promptly obeyed. Alucard tied the remaining string around yours this time. “If anything happens, anything at all, untie this string. Mine will untie, too, and I will rush to you.”

You nodded, a bit surprised. “This is impressive.”

Alucard chuckled and tilted his head slightly. “You were effortlessly summoning eclipses and this is what surprises you about magic?”

The words got caught in your throat.

“Well– it is impressive.” He looked at you with a quirked eyebrow, which did not help you organize your thoughts better. “A-And I wasn’t summoning them, not exactly.”

“You’re not sure about that, are you?”

No, you weren’t.

Your shoulders dropped. Alucard chuckled again.

He finally let go of your wrist and a tiny part of you immediately missed his touch.

“Remember. Two hours. No more, no less.” He got up from the bed again and walked towards the door. “I might be asking too much from you, but I’d advise you against sleeping, too.”

“As if I’d be able to close my eyes at all,” you whined quietly to yourself.

Alucard opened the door and looked at you.

Once again, it seemed that he was about to say something. He looked… hesitant. His expression wasn’t as nonchalant as usual, but you couldn’t tell exactly why. You looked at him expectantly.

Then – this small glimpse dissolved in seconds.

“Lock the door,” he said, pointing at it with his head.

Oh.

You got up in a jump. At last, he left. You safely locked it and kept the key in the pocket of your vest.

Then, you were alone.

For the first time in your life, being alone didn’t bring you relief. You’d usually look forward to the moments you’d be locked inside your quarters again, recovering from your wounds; despite the pain, it were the only times when you had some peace. Now, however, you’d wish someone was here. You hoped Annette and Richter were safe, wherever they were…

You laid on the bed and faced the ceiling. The scepter was also over the bed, right beside you.

And you just… stayed there.

Your fingers fiddled with the red string on your left wrist mindlessly. Alucard didn’t make a complicated tie as to keep it easy to undo, so you took care to not untie it by accident. This little piece of braided wool had magic in it… but you didn’t feel anything strange while touching it.

You remembered how Alucard felt that the scepter was magic just by touching it, while for you it was just a normal object. You remembered how Richter could summon elements with his bare hands and Annette could see spirits as easily as people…. Perhaps you had no aptitude for magic at all. Perhaps they made you read that book because they needed a human to complete the summoning of an eclipse, not because you had some sort of hidden power.

You touched the scepter again without bothering to look at it. Cold and lifeless as usual.

Maybe it had that reaction – shining, the rust disappearing – because it needed someone to… awaken it. Anyone. Not you specifically.

But it must had been touched by someone before, isn’t it? Of course it was. It didn’t walk into that crate. Someone put it there.

You groaned and turned to your right side.

Minutes went by. Minutes, minutes, minutes. You were on high alert, so your eyelids didn’t feel heavy with sleep.

You laid on your stomach and brought the scepter close to your face.

These characters… you recognized them.

Alucard told you to not read them out loud, but he didn’t say anything about writing them.

You got up and rushed to the desk. There was a small drawer there with a piece of paper and some charcoal. You laid on your stomach again and started to translate the characters into the common Latin alphabet. Alucard might not recognize the characters, but what if he saw the syllables in a language he could read and the words made sense to him?

As the scepter had a lot of text and you didn’t have much paper, you tried to keep the letters as tiny as possible. You broke the charcoal a bit to make a sharper point. Your hands and the sheets got dirty with the black of the charcoal, but you couldn’t care less.

You didn’t pay attention to the time now that you had something to busy yourself with. Minutes went by. Minutes, minutes, minutes. An hour. Half an hour.

You had little free paper left and a lot to translate still when a sound out there immediately brought you back to your senses.

You froze and looked towards the window.

The street was very quiet up until that point – you even wondered if nights in Paris were always so peaceful. That sound, however, was impossible to ignore; was impossible to not make your heart immediately race.

A scream.

You got up in a jump and approached the window slowly, peeking at it with caution.

The scream came from a nearby street, followed by fast steps. Another scream. It sounded female.

No… it sounded childish.

Maybe it’s nothing. Just a kid spooked by a dog or a rat. Nothing to worry about. You shouldn’t get on your nerves every time you hear a scream.

You stood by the window for some more minutes, your heart thundering nonstop… and nothing appeared. You sighed, tried to calm your already irregular breathing. Focus on a single thing, a simple thing, to muffle everything else–

Someone running down there on the street.

You eyes widened. Your breath got completely caught in your throat.

It was a kid. A small kid, desperately running away from something. A boy. You recognized the worn out clothes and the curly black hair.

The lily in the pocket of your vest seemed to get hot.

It was Oliver.

When he disappeared from your sight, you saw what he was running from: three men. They laughed as they pursued him.

Three vampires.

You grabbed the scepter, the piece of paper and without taking a single second to think, you were already running out of the room.

The only things you could hear were your deep breathing, your thundering heartbeat and your boots rushing on the wooden pavement, then on the stone street as you rushed out of the inn. You almost fell when taking a sudden turn in the direction you saw Oliver running to. The street was completely empty and cold, but your body already felt hot from adrenaline.

You ran as fast as your legs could take. Please let me not be too late please please please please please please please please please–

Another strangled scream followed by more voices coming from an alley nearby.

You didn’t take a second to consider what you were going to do, how you were going to save him from this situation.

You just rushed into it.

“Oliver!” You screamed, stopping on your tracks.

The scene unfolding in front of you made your blood boil in a mix of anger and fright.

Oliver, the little boy, had fallen; his back was pressed against the wall. It was a dead end. His knee bled – he had probably fallen –, tears streamed down his cheeks, his pants were wet. He was shaking; his eyes, the most widened you’d ever seen.

The three vampires cornered him. They wore simple clothes, but all of them shared a similar trait: the symbol of an eclipse burned into the skin of their foreheads.

They immediately turned around at the sound of your voice.

For a moment, everyone was shocked – you, Oliver, the vampires. They were the first ones to recover.

“M-Madame!” Oliver stuttered in a strangled, horrified voice.

The vampire in the middle smirked.

“What do we have here?”

“This is even better than that bastard,” the one on the right laughed. “No one told you to not walk around at night by yourself, sweetie?”

“Leave him alone,” you blurted out. You didn’t sound that frightened, at least, because your body hadn’t properly processed what the hell you had gotten yourself into yet.

“Oh, we might now that you’re here.” One of them said with a disgusting smirk. “And what is it that you’re carrying with you? Looks interesting.”

They started to approach at slow steps.

You knew how vampires acted. They didn’t see you as a threat, so they would not use their inhuman speed. No; they wanted to savor your panic, to make you think you’d have a way out the way they did with Oliver. Vampires acted as cruel hunters, not as animal predators that acted purely on instinct and hunger.

That’s why they didn’t notice when you put your left wrist behind your back and swiftly untied the string.

I’m sorry, Alucard, you thought as the reality of that moment finally hit you. You… you did it again. You put yourself in danger again, exactly the opposite of what Alucard told you to do. But if you had waited for him, if you had untied the string at the inn and then explained what happened and then hoped that Alucard caught the vampires in time, would Oliver still be alive? Would he have an extra minute of luck?

Whatever these vampires were about to do with you – it didn’t matter. You could take it. Oliver couldn’t. The same way Annette wouldn’t have taken the night creature’s bite.

“M-Madame, run!”

His voice caught your attention again.

That little boy had wet himself in fear. He could barely stand. And yet, he was telling you to run. He was worried about your safety.

That little boy.

So small and so fragile and wearing those worn out clothes and shaking and hurt.

It brought forward an instinct within you. Perhaps that same instinct you felt when you looked at Richter’s sad expression. A will to take care. To protect. Something that run deep into your soul, something very familiar in ways you couldn’t explain, as if you had been in a similar situation in the past, as if you had felt this desperate need to protect someone small and fragile and dear to you.

These men were going to kill that little boy and he wouldn’t even be able to fight back.

This strange instinct to protect and the anger towards these men and the revolt because you had been in similar situations too, countless times, and you couldn’t do anything to fight back against a force tenfold stronger than you made your mind go blank.

Blank, blank, blank, devoid of any thought. Any fear. Any hesitance. At that moment, there wasn’t anxiety anymore. Your fingers didn’t shake. You didn’t think of any consequence.

All that existed was the need to protect that little boy.

One of the vampires approached and grabbed the scepter roughly. Instinctively, you held it with both hands, trying to pull it back.

And then – the vampire screamed.

A sizzling noise filled the alley.

“Let me go! Let me go!” He screamed.

The scepter was burning his hands. He couldn’t take them off.

Your mind didn’t register well everything that happened in the following seconds.

The moment you held it with both hands, it started to glow again – but in a different way than before.

The inscriptions started to glow. That same glow traveled from one end to the other – to the tip of the scepter; the image of the sun.

It started to shine.

The light was blinding. You had to tighten your eyes. It was hot hot hot hot, you almost dropped it on the floor, but something told you to keep holding it. So you held it with all your might. You felt a strange wave of energy flow from your body towards the scepter.

The little sun of the scepter shone, brightening the entire alley as if day turned to night–

And the three vampires yelled in agony.

They tried to cover their faces, tried to run away – but it was already too late. Their skin began to burn as if they were set on fire. Their muscle, their clothes, their scalp, their bones, everything was burning. The vampire that tried to grab it was the first to fall on the floor, agonizing, until he finally stopped moving. The other two screamed, yelled with nowhere to run. Their limbs were way too damaged to move.

You felt that your heart was burning, too.

Finally, the burning was too much for you to take. With a scream of effort, you dropped the scepter with a loud metallic noise and fell back on the floor.

The light extinguished.

You panted. You supported your body on your arms. Finally, the screaming stopped.

There were three dead vampires on your feet.

Their carcasses completely burned, unrecognizable. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Smoke clouded the alley.

You started shaking again.

What– What just happened?!

But then, you heard another tiny voice besides yours and you remembered that there was someone you still needed to take care of. You got up from the floor, not daring to touch the scepter again, tip toeing to avoid stepping over the bodies.

You knelt in front of Oliver and held him by both arms.

“What are you doing here at this hour?!” You lashed out. “Alucard told you to not get out at night!”

The boy sobbed.

“I-I-I’m s-sorry, m-madame,” he stuttered between his cries. “I-I-I was t-trying to help. I-I was t-telling people to g-get into their houses. I was already g-going back home…”

You wiped his tears with the sleeve of your blouse before hugging him. Tight. Oliver cried on your shoulder, his little body shaking against yours.

A hand touched your shoulder from behind – which caused you to gasp loudly.

Alucard had the most shocked, confused expression you’d ever seen. It was one of the rare moments when he wasn’t being subtle.

“What happened?” Was all he asked, but it sounded like a demand.

No no no that’s not what you should ask right now. Oliver is the priority.

The boy leaned away from you and you held his shoulders again. “Where do you live?”

He sniffed and rubbed his nose. His little face was all puffy and wet. “T-Two streets away from here.”

You got up and took his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Ruby–“

“Let’s go,” you interrupted Alucard. “I need to take him home.”

Take him home take him home take him home. Yes, this is what I need to do. This is all that matters.

You walked on a beeline with a rushed pace towards the exit of the alley – both the scepter and the piece of paper with your translations completely forgotten on the floor. Alucard followed you closely, but in silence. Oliver’s little hand was still shaking. You held it tightly.

After no more than five minutes of walking, he pointed towards his house. You leaned down and hugged him again.

“Don’t leave your house. Did you understand? Do not walk out under any circumstance. Tell your parents about it.” You repeated in a serious authoritarian tone you didn’t recognize yourself. Have you ever spoken that way before?

Oliver nodded and apologized again. Finally, he waved a last goodbye and entered the house.

It seems that you just started to breathe again when you heard the sound of the door locking.

A few seconds of silence went by.

“Ruby.”

You shivered and turned around.

Alucard looked down at you with frowned eyebrows. Was he angry? Oh fuck, of course he was angry. You put yourself in danger again. You did what you shouldn’t. You got out of the inn without his permission.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt your mission. I hope I didn’t cause any trouble for you,” you started while avoiding his gaze vehemently. Your fingers were trembling again; you hid them behind your back.

“Can you tell me what–“

“Oliver was being chased by vampires. I saw them running through the window and I couldn’t hold myself back. I’m sorry, I know you told me to not put myself in danger. B-But I couldn’t just stay still, you see?” You couldn’t shut up. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why was your voice shaking? “I didn’t want to make you angry.”

“I’m not angry at you.”

“And then– the scepter– it did that thing again. I don’t know how that happened. It– it got so hot out of sudden, and then the vampires were burning too. I d-don’t know if I was the one to do it. I just didn’t want Oliver to die. I hope I didn’t cause any trouble.”

“You didn’t, Ruby.”

“Oh– I left if on the floor, didn’t I? I’m sorry. I put you through all the trouble of going back to the Louvre only to drop it at the alley. I s-should take it back. Oh! And I was translating the writings too. I think I dropped the paper… well, I wasn’t translating anything, I was just writing the words in our alphabet, and I don’t know it’ll be useful at all but I wanted to help somehow–“

“Ruby.”

The words got stuck in your throat.

Alucard cupped your face with both hands, forcing you to look at him and nothing else.

He frowned. “You’re burning.”

You blinked rapidly. “What? N-No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I can feel it through the gloves.” Alucard used his teeth to take the glove off his right hand; he pressed it over your forehead. He was probably trying to help, but that action made you feel even hotter on the inside. “We need to do something about it.”

“No!” You blurted out. “No, there’s no need. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ll heal. I always do.”

“Ruby.” He called again.

Alucard shoved the glove inside his coat and held your face with both hands again; he lowered himself slightly to get closer to your eye level.

“I am not angry at you.” He started in a slow and quiet voice. “You didn’t interrupt me. You did nothing wrong. But I need you to understand that you are spiraling, and I need you to calm down first.”

S… Spiraling? You were spiraling?

You gulped and nodded.

“Breathe with me.” He instructed patiently.

Inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. You followed his slow pace.

Adrenaline dissipated in your bloodstream; your head got quieter again. Your heart stopped running and went back to walking. Your hands, however, were still shaking.

You lowered your head, desperately trying to avoid his gaze, when you felt tears well up your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you said in a weak tone.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Alucard’s voice was even quieter than usual… even gentler. He didn’t step away. His thumb caressed your cheek with care.

“I got so scared. I thought Oliver was going to die.”

Why did you even confess that? You weren’t sure; your brain wasn’t working properly anymore. But yes, that was true. You were scared of getting hurt – you were just used to pain, you didn’t like it – but you were even more scared of seeing that boy die in front of you. So small and so innocent and so familiar for some reason.

Why was that familiar? Why were you so confused? What the hell just happened?

You had no answer to any of these questions. All you wanted to do was cry at that moment – but not in front of him. Never in front of him; it’d be too humiliating. You wanted to step away, to have some space to recover. You wanted to hide from him.

Alucard had other plans.

When the first stubborn tear streamed down your cheek, Alucard pulled you closer to his body. His hands let go of your face; instead, he wrapped his arms around you. He was delicate. Hesitant, even.

Your face was then hidden in his chest.

Alucard didn’t say anything. Perhaps there was nothing he could’ve said at that moment, so he decided to act.

You froze at first. This… this was the closest you’ve ever been to him – at least while fully conscious, a proximity Alucard established willingly. You didn’t even know you had the right to stand that close to him.

When was the last time someone offered you comfort like that?

If it had happened before, you didn’t remember.

Slowly, your body melted under his. Your tense members softened. His sweet scent enveloped you. With much hesitance, you wrapped your arms around his body too, under his cape – and in the moment Alucard realized you accepted his embrace, he held you just a little tighter, a little more comfortable. One of his hands caressed your hair, while the other wrapped around your back.

You did your best to swallow any incoming sobs, forcing yourself to cry in silence. If Alucard even noticed you were crying, he didn’t show it. He just kept his arms around you protectively… affectionately. It made your insides feel warm in a way not even that strange scepter could.

None of you said a word, though there was much to be said. Both of you understood the gravity of what just happened. The three burnt carcasses were there at the alley, waiting to be inspected.

But that could wait for now. Nothing had the right to pierce through the small bubble of peace you shared.

You just stayed there in each other’s embrace for longer than your confused brain could register.

The bright full moon, reining sovereign in the sky, was your only witness.

[luigilore]

oh PLS tell me your thoughts about inexperienced luigi whenever possible,,,,🙏🙏

omg ofc okay sorry this took a sec and is also just me rambling BUT

luigi would be so earnestly excited to have a girlfriend and it's YOU! is always like ive never been able to do this before' whenever ur doing coupley things and he loves it.... it's always 'my girlfriend' like yeah he is obsessed with dropping that in convos

i think he would get jealous so easily idk like he is NOT sharing sorry! he loves his girlfriend a lot.

okay inexperienced... in that sense... i cant even imagine how much he would lose his mind the first time you suck him off like actually couldn't compute, would accidentally pull your hair a bit too tight... not that u totally mind...

is rambling out an apology and is cut off by his own moan when u suck harder like shut up babe <3

would cum so fucking fast lol like he's actually embarrassed the first few times you guys have sex... esp when u ride him

and lovesss when you ride him like he used to dream of times like this fr

his fav position is missionary tho he just loves how intimate and loving it is... he likes any position where you guys are face to face... but looks down at you with sm love in his eyes like

mouth agape at you shirtless for the first time like please lol. dont even start on any frilly, pretty, cute lingerie luigi would die

his hands shake a little... just a bit! when he's undoing ur bra for the first time and touching your boobs; he'd be so tentative and shy so ur'd be like ... "ur my bf they're urs" 🤗 and luigi is like :0 "you can't just say stuff like that" lmfao

his hands are soooo big like shut up. "anything you do will feel good," you'd reassure him with a sweet smile and you're very right like it's so easy for him to curl/hook his fingers inside of you does that make sense? idk it just feels GOOD whenever he touches, wherever he touches you tbh

a very enthusiastic learner like genuinely is on substack researching feminine pleasure and buying sm different books... you come over one day to him reading that 'come as you are' book and you're like ? lol okay thank you baby

omg library study dates... imagine just like putting you hand on his thigh while you guys are working and he's looking at you like... babe... baby.. um :) like that's enough for him to be totally distracted like gl getting any actual work done after that

pleasuring you is very important to him it's like a game/challenge/hyperfixation for him to like he's a perfectionist he doesn't like not being good at something and yes that applies to sex like shut up

would be blushing at you offhandedly mentioning u have a vibrator... then asks to see it... will eventually work up the courage to ask to use it on you lol

would be sooo loud.. is aware of this and tries to not be... but is never quite that successful

luigi would be such a soft baby after sex like sorry like it's so physically intimate and that goes hand in hand with emotional intimacy to him and he'd just want to hold his GIRLFRIEND in his arms <333

[wheneverfeasible]

Girlie, I'm gonna need some abo recs. Steddie and otherwise. You've got me intrigued

(lowkey browsing your blog for more writing)

Oh! Yes! Hello!

First off, I do want to point out that when using the initials, it’s best to use slashes in-between (a/b/o) as the term without those is actually a slur against the Australian indigenous community. Just something to think about, no hate or anything! ♥️

As for recs, I’ll just stick with Steddie for now as that’s my brainrot ship…

Honestly, anything by @lexirosewrites is fantastic. My personal favorites tho are:

Bad Bet wherein Steve is a secret omega and bet by Tommy to take alpha and freak Eddie Munson to prom as a prank, only to fall for the strange alpha.

Online, Offline (Out of My Mind) where famous actor and secret omega Steve finds his scentmate through an online dating service thanks to Robin.

Bandaids for the Heart where Steve is a pediatric nurse and Eddie is a single dad whose kiddo might be trying to play matchmaker.

And the Sun Will Rise which has Steve as a packless omega suffering through isolation sickness during the zombie apocalypse, until a certain alpha and his pack take him in.

Baby Mine wherein Eddie discovers he’s pregnant and because of past trauma assumes Steve will expect him to get rid of it, so it’s definitely angsty but with sweet comfort and a happy ending.

But really all of their stuff is fantastic.

As for other fics, I heartily recommend Look For the Boy With the Broken Smile, Ask Him if He Wants to Stay Awhile by Eenselwig_98 ( @sunlight-and-moonshine) and honestly it might be time for another reread of this fic for myself too. But Steve is an omega who’s been hurt so many times that he thinks he’s only good enough to fuck and not mate, except Eddie is head over heels for him.

And can’t forget Whatever you want it to be by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation where omega Eddie is slipped a heat triggering drug by Jason who plans to assault him but he’s saved by Steve who offers his assistance with the after effects of the drug.

Build a Life With You by StarsHideYourFires ( @starshideurfics ) which is a historical omegaverse where omega Steve has a secret that leads him to abandoning the socialite life to become a mail order bride to an alpha he never met in a small rural town. (The author has a lot of fics I enjoy, actually, but I’m only sharing finished fics here, but do please check out the other stuff too!)

the potential of us by emchant3d has both enemies-to-lovers and former hookups fake dating as omega Steve and alpha Eddie try to get their besties off their backs about dating each other. Side ship Buckingham.

feel forever its soft fall and swell by hejustlikemefr which is another historical omegaverse that is an Organ Trail kind of au, young omega Steve and older alpha Eddie have a marriage of convenience to help protect Steve.

The Unbearable Horniness of Steve by @fkinkindagauche has that delicious angst of the classic friends-to-lovers and some classic misunderstanding. (The author also has a Harringrove fic called Goldilocks for all you Billy lovers out there.)

It’ll be fine. Probably. by @stevieschrodinger which is a modern au with an omega Eddie who finds out he’s pregnant and returns to Hawkins where he runs into high school crush and current librarian, alpha Steve Harrington. I love this version of Eddie so much.

Good Omega by Batty4Steddie and @spicycinnabun is another excellent omega Eddie fic where alpha Steve is in the band with him and flirt on stage and Steve is ready to finally claim Eddie as his while Eddie…assumes Steve is straight.

And then we have my lovely @katyawriteswhump with so many wonderful offerings that I can’t even attempt to list them, each one full of angst, fluff, humor, and feels.

Honestly there’s so many I loved and enjoyed but I would say these fics and authors are a great place to start. Many of them inspired my own writing so every single one of them is worth checking out. Each have their own style and it makes for such a lovely exploration of a beloved trope.

And I know that there’s more out there, but this is getting a bit long already, so maybe I’ll do another rec list one of these days lol.

Now off to work I must go! I hope you find joy in these favorites of mine just like I did, my dear anon!

Love to all these fantastic and marvelously talented creators! I’m definitely rereading some these rn 🤭

[cc-kote]

Nine people I'd like to get to know better

WOOPS I did not have time to do this for the past like, week but I've been wanting to bc I love silly little memes like this. Tytyty @ithillia for the tag :3

Last song: All Our Bruised Bodies And The Whole Heart Shrinks by La Dispute (It makes me think about Fives and it hurts so fucking much) 

Favorite colour: GREEN!! and also blue 

Last movie/TV Show: TCW of course, I had a Bad Autism Time™️ and my gf put on the fucking Umbara Arc to calm me down. It worked like a charm what the fuck is wrong w me lmfaooo. 

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: All of the above but spice hurts me. I do it anyway tho, mama raised a little bitch but she didn't raise a quitter lmfaoo. 

Relationship status: So fuckin down bad for my girlfriend hhh 

Last thing you googled: fuckjgn AO3 LMAOOO 

Current obsession: clonesclonesclonesclones forever. I haven't had a special interest/hyperfixation this deep since I was like 12-14 so like this is one of the most important things in my life tbh. Specifically like thinking about how their culture would work, and their solidarity, internal conflicts, shared trauma and how that would relate to those things. Their ideas about personal and cultural identity and how that would vary individually. Things like how their upbringing must have felt, how that affected them and who they became later in life, the things they're taught vs what they truly come to believe once they're out on the field, the psychological effects of O66 on the clones who survived and the devastating impact it must have had- Bro stop me or I'll keep going forever like. I'm in deep and tbh? I wouldn't change it for the world. 

NPT: LMFAO bold of this title to assume that I know 9 people on this site, or am brave enough to tag ppl I haven't talked to often fhsjdmksmf SO if you see this consider yourself tagged. Yes, You. idc if we've never talked It's probably bc I'm too baby, so (unless u don't feel like it) do it 👀 also @mamuzzy and @whatislifewithoutangst if y'all haven't already and wanna do this here u go! 

[ckret2]

do you have any tips on fueling a hyperfixation enough to finish a long fic? specifically when the media has a smaller fandom

sure here's several tips:

1) for me, this is the most imporant one, so it's long: if you've run out of canon material and there's only a little bit of fanfic/fanart, start consuming things adjacent to the fandom that are relevant to your fic. This means doing research! Nonfiction research, even! it'll be fun, it's for fanfic.

If your main character was in the radio industry in the 1920s? then buddy, you're gonna read every book that's ever been written about the first years of radio broadcasting—and then you're gonna listen to a million early radio dramas that have been posted to youtube & old time radio podcasts.

If he was a trans man in Victorian England? Then you're emailing your library begging them to get a copy of a book about how American & British society perceived trans men & crossdressing women from 1600-1900.

If your main character ran a cult? Then you're about to get really familiar with a true crime podcast on the psychology of cults and their leaders.

If your character's an Italian theater nerd in the 1700s, you're about to watch a lot of videos about comedia dell'arte. If your character's a Japanese theater nerd in the 1700s, you're about to watch a lot of videos about kabuki. Is a character's name an allusion to a mythological figure? You're gonna read every myth about that figure possible to see whether any of it can be incorporated into your characterization. Is your character a big reader? What genres are they into and what years were they a teenager? You're googling "pre-lovecraftian cosmic horror" for your tentacle-loving goth born in 1890 and that's what you're reading for the next two months.

I've devoured books, websites, research papers, podcasts, infotainment youtubers, movies, documentaries, and whole TV shows powered purely by love for blorbo from a different show. The topics I've researched have been as varied as:

the physics & geology of volcanoes

how to make friendship bracelets

a travel podcast for tourists to New Orleans

Victorian-era sci-fi novels that preclude modern steampunk

hundreds & hundreds of real people's self-reported ghost stories

how to tie a sarong (which required digging past a billion links to white people who think a "sarong" is simply a rectangle of fabric you can knot any old way)

the history of Mardi Gras celebration practices

lockpicking

a wide variety of neurodivergencies (and do you know how goddamn hard it is to find psychology books that are sympathetic to narcissists?? goddamn. i did it tho)

the entirety of Care Bears and Rainbow Brite

the native names of islands & geological formations around the Ring of Fire

Mexican folk religion

pre-Hays Code comedy movies

how & where people consumed pop music before radios & record players

Indonesian airport locations

how much weight a battleship can carry...

and if you do it for Love Of A Character, it's fun. If blorbo loves cheesy pulp romances and you don't, you will if you're reading them with an eye to see what blorbo gets out of these books and how this reflects on their character.

Hyperfixation-tangential research can help stretch a hyperfixation indefinitely. Plus you learn lots of new stuff, and even when the hyperfixation dies, that knowledge is with you forever!

(did you know volcanos aren't hot enough to melt glass? did you know the fires built for glassblowing aren't hot enough to melt glass?? did you know magma isn't hot enough to melt itself??? i once spent a whole day frantically trying to figure out how glass & rocks melt. it resulted in two lines in a fanfic. i regret nothing.)

and a few other tips:

2) Find 3-4 trusted colleagues/partners in crime you can go feral with in DMs. A fandom with 10,000 people and a fandom with 100 people look the same size when viewed from within a ship-dedicated discord with 5 people.

3) if you rewatch/reread the source material CONSTANTLY, it's easy to risk squeezing out the last drops of dopamine it offers too quickly, so like, don't force feed it to yourself every other day. But periodically reconsuming bits of it somewhat regularly can help stoke the fire, remind you what you like about the source material, and inspire you to think over the parts that are relevant to your fic. AND helps you remember how to write the characters. (the aforementioned research is usually what I do for my fun watching/reading in between reconsuming canon.)

4) make sure the fic you're writing is short enough to be completed before the hyperfixation expires. this is CRUCIAL. i've never actually done this step.

[supremefloof]

more tbhx pokemon au - moon!

i basically reverse-engineer the reasoning lol. behold, the power of combining hyperfixations... man, if only my actual real life tasks were this easy

A popular travel blogger, Moon's fans hoped for her to show them all around the world. After meeting Hoopa, Moon gained the power of teleportation and became a small-time Hero.

tragically, treeman is probably responsible for sticking hoopa in a master ball (i did it for color coding shhhh). how does the worldbuilding work? I still dunno lol. the show's heros probably have stronger mons tho, and for practicality almost nobody has more than a few mons. spoilers and yap below!

Moon can have other mons too, but I'm still wondering what they would be. I want somebody between Moon, Nice and L0 to have a Mienfoo. if it's Nice, then probably a Shiny Mienfoo. I like the idea of Moon's ace being Hoopa since they share portals and the whole being trapped thing.

I've decided that E-Soul's ace mon is the bug-steel type, Genesect!

E-soul, or at least the idea of E-soul, is probably really old just like Genesect! maybe the original genesect was partnered with the Gray E-Soul in the past, and was upgraded at the same time as E-Soul over the years (speculation based on E-Soul PV).

They both are cyborg-y and fast.

Genesect is also 4x effective against Moon's ace and has a giant gun attached to it 💀.

Conveniently, although Genesect is not electric-type, it can attach a Shock Drive for an Electric-Type Techno Blast anyways!

besides X, I'm probably going to focus on characters we have enough information on to make judgements about because I don't want to pick pokemon off only aesthetics (although that is fun too :D). to the person who suggested zeraora for e-soul I had the same thought initially! but I also want to limit everybody to 1 mythical/legendary and genesect was really really tempting. possible ideas so far:

Moon (besides Hoopa) - Cleffa/clefairy, Lopunny (can mega evolve), ralts Enlighter - Malamar/Inkay and Seviper (courtesy of @/cedarwrought), normal rotom, yanma/sableye/hoothoot/noctowl (compound eyes, keen eye, tinted lens abilities), blipbug line (I really like this idea. just look at em.)

Nice - maybe Gallade/kirlia, Swanna, im sure theres others i just cant think of them Ghostblade - Manaphy/Phione (hear me out) and Doublade Lucky Cyan - Jirachi? also shaymin? meloetta? basically anything that people proposed for hatsune miku project voltage Lin Ling - Zangoose (also from @/cedarwrought), Rufflet, possibly Marshadow, deerling Wreck - Tyranitar for sure (the only dark/rock type), Krookodile (the only non-legend dark/ground type), a cute pokemon but idk which one (luvdisc?) maybe he coparented one with Nice Firm Man - Regigigas or Regirock Miss J - some kind of sassy mon, like a Glameow or Persian. ooh maybe a klefki

maybe Nice has an evolved pokemon of some kind that L0 has the pre-evo for, which is another reason that he was turned into Nice?

perhaps Lin Ling doesn't have any pokémon at all (in character for a depressed office worker with nobody that knows/cares about him), and inherits Nice's team. in this case getting one of his own would be a character development moment.

previous next

[rainyobservationblizzard]

i do love the popular hc that aragorn survives off of pine needles and tree bark but alternatively,

i like to entertain the thought that he’s an extremely picky eater w niche food hyperfixations. (Plot twist: eowyn’s soup was actually fine, he doesn’t like eating veggies).

Has somehow maintained an insane sweet tooth and needs to douse everything in inordinate amounts of salt despite living in the wild as a ranger and not having a built-up sugar/salt tolerance or anything. IMAGINE?!? He was just born with that dawg in him and likes it like that. he’s picky 🔥🤭 quirky ass ranger

initially, everyone thinks that he politely refuses the hearty meals gimli cooks up because he’s self sacrificing, or he wants to leave some for everyone, or he just is used to meager eats in the wild, but the truth comes out when pippin catches him secretly snorfling gummy bears for dinner in his tent and gets extremely outspoken about why aragorn never offered any to them, (“it’s downright offensive it is!”). it was a 5 lb wholesale sack of gummy bears, so pippin’s anger is probably justified

i see this man living on chocolate oranges and sour patch kids. he just really likes the instant energy aspect of it. and he somehow never crashes (dunedain genes is frodo’s best guess). sam is concerned by this and tries to make him have three square meals a day at least.

merry stole one of his chocolate oranges once, which just made aragorn crack down on hiding his sweets bag better

interestingly enough, he’s not particularly into sweet drinks tho. it’s candy and water for him

he loves to cure his meat in 3x the required amount of salt and then dips each bite in salt which boggles sam’s brain (“frying your taste buds you are! havent you heard of balancing your dishes mister strider!”). will pop pinches of pure salt during the day instead of taking naps when he’s tired. not all salt is made equal btw. man loves a pink himalayan

also, when he’s gone in the morning, it’s because he rode to the nearest town to barter rabbit pelts for more sweets

[toto-the-cactus]

Like the Primarchs, which of their daughters would be friends and which won't get along with their cousins?

I love this kind of asks because it gives me the chance to play a bit with these supposed daughters and the already existing OCs that other creators have.

In addition, these are the rightful creators of some of the OCs I used for this:

Garm: @candyswirls

Callahan: @jaghatai-khock

Lilith: @staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty

Medea and Cornix: @meangreennunseen

Olyssia: @thornsorcery

Kataryna: @thethronezone

If I missed any tagging let me know so I can correct it, yall uwu

-°-

First and probably the most predictable one have to be the daughters of Leman and Lion. Eireen is the dream child when it comes to discipline, duty and responsibilities but that left her with any social capacity stunted for life. It’s almost like any other astartes: put them out of their comfort zone (aka: war and battle) and they become completely clueless. Enter Garm here, who comes from a childhood where forming bonds is the norm among her family (tho not exactly in the most conventional way). They start off badly mostly because Garm's form of socializing involves roughhousing, biting and so on which, in Eireen’s eyes, looks mostly like taunting but worry not because as time passes, they get better mostly because the daughter of Lion finds on Garm both a strong supporting friend and someone that listen to her as herself and not some effigy of expectations put on her shoulders. It’s pretty much that meme of the “they asked for no PICKLES!”. Garm is the stronger and assertive personality of the two when socially speaking while Eireen is the “think before acting” voice between them which makes for the perfect combo to the absolute chagrin of Lion and the amusement of Leman and Callahan.

Funny enough, the most sociable of the daughters are two and one of them is none other than Mortarion’s daughter (which I will finally name as Bellis) and Horus’ daughter (Tahmina). The former because she has the personality of her mother and the last one because of her father. Bellis gets along practically with anyone and you’ll hardly see her being mean or outright hateful which makes her the perfect moderator with her other cousins that don’t get along that well. ‘Mina on the other hand is quite charismatic like her father and therefore knows how to get along flawlessly with her other cousins, tho she lacks the patience Bellis has so sometimes you can see her getting a bit more expressive on her annoyance when reaching her last nerve.

Medea (Magnus’ daughter) does try to get along with most of her cousins but you can’t win all battles. Being as much of a nerd as her father, sometimes she comes off as a ‘know-it-all’ by accident when just wanting to share information like any kid that found a new hyperfixation and that’s exactly why Daphne (Fulgrim’s daughter) is kinda abrasive towards her. It kinda gets better over time, but considering that Daphne grew up knowing the backstabbing tendencies that noble people have, she got a bit too many bad habits from them and she is always expecting the worse from others so that’s why she doesn’t let that many of her cousins to get that close to her.

Olyssia (Roboute’s daughter) gets along incredibly well with Medea mostly thanks to the rants they can get between each other. They would share their favorite books and get together to talk about them and do it again and again. It's kind of sweet and sometimes the parents of both girls would organize play dates even if they are too big for such things.

The children of Perturabo hardly get together with their cousins but the few instances they actually do, it’s a bit awkward being around them mostly because they work as a tight circle. The one usually speaking for her siblings as the ‘outside diplomat’ is Kleonike, who is the most pleasant of her siblings and the one that likes to meet more of her relatives. It’s not that much their fault since they were raised in a way that they could only count between each other and anyone outside their little siblinghood can be unwelcoming or even be weirded out by them. They grew up only being friends with their own siblings and never interacted with other children because of their father so they pretty much don’t feel comfortable having to socialize with their cousins too BUT! but when comfortable enough, you’ll see a few of them getting a bit chummy with those that share their same passions. Here a few of them per age order (oldest to younger):

Kleonike: gets along very well with both Medea, Olyssia, Daphne and Eireen. By default, likes to spend time for peace’s sake with Bellis or ‘Mina.

Melitta: the shy kid of her siblings. She rarely gets separated from her sister Charis, but in the rare instances she does, she is found around both Garm and Eireen. Loves her cousin Bellis as she is the one that teaches her about her passion for gardening. You’ll also see her doing some parallel play with Cornix (Corvus’ daughter) as they both rejoice in the comfort of having someone as company but… silently.

Charis: temperamental to a fault. She admires her papa so much that she wishes to emulate him (concerning) but she also has her siblings to reel back some of the bad personality traits that Perturabo had. Sadly, just because Perturabo said so, Charis doesn’t like Dorn’s children. It doesn’t matter that she never even started a conversation with any of them, she’ll just avoid them as much as possible. Over time, she’ll be forced to interact with them and eventually realize that they have a lot in common to the point where she gets flustered to admit that she considers them her friends too.

Maximus: as he became an astartes of his father’s legion, he rarely had any time to spend with anything resembling a friend that weren’t his sisters. Because of his really low self-esteem, I see this guy getting along pretty well with those that welcome him with everything and flaws such as ‘Mina, Bellis, Olyssia, Medea, etc. Probably not much with Garm and Eireen as both can be a bit too much for his quiet personality and Daphne can sometimes hurt with her words without realizing it. On the other hand, Cornix is probably his perfect match when trying to find a friend among his family.

Timo: too young to remember a lot of her cousins and the baby sister of all her siblings, so she is constantly being coddled by them.

Just like Bellis and ‘Mina, the daughter of Vulkan is quite the social butterfly. Loves spending time with all of her family but she gets particularly well with the children of Ferrus, as they share similar hobbies regarding blacksmithing. Funny enough is that she tries her best to make most of her cousins get along like your usual moderator but more often than not, she tries to include Kataryna (Konrad’s daughter) too to the social circle. You’ll always see her trying her best to be friends with her even if sometimes the dark humor of the mini Night Hunter gets a bit too much for her.

Kataryna had a hard time understanding social cues since at first the Primarch had quite the fear for anything bad to happen to his daughter, so developing proper ways to bonding with people were limited to her mother and father. She hit it off easily with Garm as roughhousing and biting are similar ways that she understood about socializing. Vulkan’s daughter is pretty much one of the few of her cousins that doesn't get too uncomfortable easily by her dark sense of humor and can withstand a ‘love bite’ from her without problem.

It’s expected that the children of Ferrus and Fulgrim would get along but ironically, they are so opposite from each other that eventually they fight more often than not. There aren’t a lot of things that the kids can share to have some peace, unlike the Primarchs that had a common ground when regarding their goal of achieving ‘Perfection’. That doesn’t happen with their kids, as they have too many diverting opinions about hobbies or, hell, even war strategies. (I’ll leave this one open for more interpretations so yall can put ideas here<3)

Lilith (Sanguinius’ daughter) does try to get along with plenty of her cousins and she’s good at it most of the time. The few times some of her relatives avoid her are mostly (as an example) Eireen, who simply has this animal sixth sense of perceiving nearby danger. Daphne, on the other hand, loves doing dress up with her cousin since she has the extra work that are her wings to get more creative with her attempts to make her look even more beautiful.

Angron’s daughter is a tough tooth among her relatives mostly for her own hard upbringing. It’s not like she lacked love, but she had a hard time understanding how to express that emotion when she only had her father and mother as examples of that. The one that gets her the best is Kataryna, only followed closely by Garm and Eireen. It’s kinda angsty but sometimes Eireen and Angron’s daughter bond over the trauma their parents have put them through. She doesn’t like Daphne mostly because she can’t find a common ground with her just like with Lilith and Olyssia. It’s not outright hate but simply that she feels uncomfortable among them, like a fish out of water.

Dorn’s daughter can be a bit more expressive than her father but at the end of the day, she also has a predilection for practicality. She likes spending time with the cousins that very much wouldn’t bring unnecessary drama or stress. Of course, that doesn’t mean she is outright rejecting those that wish to be amicable towards her. The perfect picture of a diplomat, probably even better than her cousin Kleonike (which is another match into the fuel that is Perturabo’s competitive ass). If this girl had someone ask her who she likes spending most time with, that would be Charis (share some similar hobbies) and Olyssia (loves discussing better ways to improve paperwork).

Alpharius and Omegon’s daughters are simply those twins in The Shining. Everyone is too unnerved to even get close to them.

-°-

'Bit late but here it is, yo!

Let me know if I missed some so I can add them later <333

Kisses!! Bye!

[astro-nomaly]

Hemlock Sugar Rush (Greenflower)

...listen I hyperfixated.

This takes place vaguely in the pocket of time Wu is missing in the time stream but that doesn't actually matter it's just an excuse for Lloyd to live alone. I was gonna include a Brad POV, but this is 7k, so fuck that noise.

@mother-spore-missa @highbookwormofthecentury @flirty-anon @ren-cerati (idk if you like greenflower but here's some greenflower lmao) @gre3n-bl0ssom

CW: stalking (Lloyd is into it), dark romance (actually romantic as Lloyd is into it), possessive and obsessive behavior, references to past non-consensual stalking, freak4freak behavior these two are batshit crazy. Oh and they make out at the end if that squicks you out. Not like graphic tho 🤷‍♀️

Content under the cut. I wrote this in a day and only spell-checked so don't expect poetry

Hemlock Sugar Rush

Lloyd Garmadon, the Green-sometimes-Golden Ninja whenever it's convenient, Chosen One, World Savior like five times over — no need to thank him — and grandson of technically God with a Capital G but it's chill don't even worry about it, has a stalker.

Out of context, this wouldn't even be that weird. See, Lloyd is a pretty big deal (as per the reasons listed above), and he's had multiple small-time stalkers over the years since becoming the Green-sometimes-Gold-but-usually-Green-for-simplicity's-sake Ninja. More than a few overly obsessive hero-worshipers, Pythor when the snake was skulking around trying to sap his powers, a really weird religious fanatic, the list goes on. He's not even the only one! Kai has his share of obsessive fangirls that haunt his Chirp like ghouls, Nya has a really weird public image, Cole and Jay have both been stalked online, and Zane deals with fanatics obsessed with the rise of artificial intelligence and robot uprisings on the regular.

When you're a hero ninja group that keeps saving the world, you tend to work up an audience. And sometimes that audience gets weird. Lloyd's learned to accept it. Kai has always been pissed about Lloyd's stalkers in particular, but he's protective over Lloyd when it comes to everything. They never go very far anyways, aside from Pythor but that slimy bastard doesn't count because he was an actual supervillain. Lloyd and the others always manage to either dissuade or arrest stalkers. It's not a pleasant ordeal, but it is a manageable one.

However, this stalking is not 'out of context'. This is a very unusual stalking.

For one, they're good. They're so good, in fact, that Lloyd can never trace anything back to them. Never a hair or lint out of place. So good, in fact, that for a while, Lloyd didn't even know they existed.

Best he can figure, his stalker has been around for a very long time. Other stalkers/obsessive fans/religious fanatics are usually pretty sloppy. They take pictures with their shutter sound on, they like and save every single social media post in rapid-fire succession, hell, some of them are bold enough to try sending DM's. They're easy to trace and easy to deal with.

But this stalker is really, really good. It's been a few months since Uncle Wu's disappearance into the time stream, a few months of Lloyd operating in Ninjago City alone save for Pixal's help in city surveillance and keeping an eye on the others. He'd moved deeper into the city to better keep an eye on criminal activity. Pixal had convinced (re: threatened) the mayor into paying for the over-the-top high-rise Lloyd lived in. Personally, even though he really shouldn't feel this way, Lloyd thinks a fancy penthouse is the least this city could give him after all these years.

It's been an adjustment, for sure. He isn't used to living on his own, even though Pixal invades his smart-fridge (he really doesn't know why his fridge has a built-in facetime function) on the daily to check in. But he likes it anyways. The independence is nice, even if he does get terribly lonely most days.

Well. He did, until his stalker slipped up.

Again — they're crazy good. From what he's figured out, they've been stalking him for potentially years at this point, and nobody ever noticed. It was a bit of a terrifying notion at first. Either they've gotten bold now that most of his family is split up around the world, or they've gotten obsessive to the point of foregoing their usual caution. Because someone doesn't evade the senses of six superhuman ninja without a healthy amount of caution.

The first sign was his window. It was a little creaky, and the apartment being so high, nobody had done maintenance on the exterior for a long time. It kind of annoyed him, but he didn't really care to fix it, especially not after long nights spent fighting crime. One day, after a particularly exhausting drug bust, he'd stumbled into his room and found his window wasn't creaking anymore. He'd shrugged it off and gone to bed, assuming Pixal had done it.

But a few days later, when he thought to ask, she denied any involvement with genuine confusion. It had irked him, but he'd ignored it. Maybe it had just stopped creaking on its own.

But then things got more and more suspicious.

His gi always had less bloodstains in the morning than he swore they had the night before. His candles never burned out. His bike never needed fuel. His fridge was always stocked with the good caffeinated tea, even though he didn't buy it and Pixal swore up and down that she didn't know he even liked that stuff.

At first, he could brush it off. He had misremembered the fight. He had fantastic candles. His bike used insanely efficient fuel, approved by Pixal, Zane, Jay, and Nya. Somebody else on the team was buying the tea for him online.

But things kept stacking up. Things he couldn't call coincidence, or luck, or chance. His plants were watered, their pots rotated so they faced the sun. That couldn't be Pix — she was never physically in the apartment. She took to possessing his TV and fridge instead, and her pixies stayed at the base to help her out with repairs and mechanical work. There were vegetables he didn't buy in his fridge, and his cabinets were more organized.

Whenever he received a genuine picture or gift from a fan on the street, it was shredded to hell the next morning.

It should freak him out. It should make him nervous, and paranoid, and running to his siblings for help. His stalkers have never been this bad before. They've never broken into his house and been close enough to clean his gi without him knowing.

Instead, he likes it.

That's weird, right? He's still just seventeen. He feels like an adult these days. Kai and the others used to say that he wasn't because he 'didn't have a real job' but neither did they, and being the Ninja counted as a real job now that the mayor was actually paying them for it. He didn't pay bills either, but that was because he had a fifth-grade education and never learned algebra. Still, he's seventeen, which makes him technically a minor. For all he knows, this is some sick freak of a pedophile, or another religious fanatic that knows way too much about his heritage.

But he's still excited. Ignoring all the reasons that's a horrible thing to feel about a stalker that can break into his penthouse without Pixal noticing, this person makes him feel exhilarated. Because lately, they've been leaving clues.

Little things. Things you'd have to be a ninja to pick out. Footprints in the grass next to his bike. Flower petals scattered a little too far from their pots to have fallen there naturally. Once, even the smudge of a fingerprint against the counter.

Once, a sticky note.

It was taped to his nightstand. He'd woken up that morning, none the wiser to the person who'd apparently been inside his room while he slept, and found a little green sticky note with cutesy heart doodles and flowers drawn in glittery gel pen. He'd felt real, genuine fear for a tense few minutes, struggling to breathe past the panic of somebody skulking around his room in the dead of night. But once he'd calmed down, he felt excitement replace the anxiety. Someone had broken into his room — and they'd left him doodles.

He'd placed the note back where he found it and continued his day like it never happened. A few mornings later, another sticky note came. This one had a more detailed drawing. Lloyd had hesitated, his total of three brain cells yelling at him to stop being stupid, before he'd left his own little note on the picture in thin pen strokes: what's this flower called?

He didn't get a written response — he never did. But the next morning, he woke up to a printed article about Morning Glories. He'd done a little digging online, and found that they apparently symbolized infatuation. That alone should've made him panic. Instead, he'd sat in his chair, staring at the screen, and blushed like an idiot.

So… he'd sent something back. His own little sticky note with a crude, traced doodle of a Queen of the Night desert flower.

His stalker had been overjoyed, if the twenty (yes, literally, he'd counted) little notes filled to the brim with hearts and doodles and Morning Glories wrapped around Queen of the Nights were anything to go by. And again, like an idiot, he'd blushed and resisted the urge to giggle when he woke up to them all scattered across his room.

Look. Here's the thing — Lloyd had never been a very independent person. As a kid, he'd felt completely isolated in Darkley's. When he was kicked out, he latched onto the first 'friends' he could find, and they turned out to be rotten assholes. Then he had the ninja to latch onto, and the first time he was separated from them it was because he'd been kidnapped and held in a cage in the middle of the damn desert, then almost died in a volcano. He's grown up since then, but the experience made him pretty clingy to his siblings. This was the first time in years that he's been truly independent of them. Being so attached to his siblings, and between all the world-saving, he's never exactly found any room for external relationships. Sure, he kept kind-of in contact with Skylor, but she was Kai's girlfriend. Didn't really count. Lloyd didn't have anybody who he could call his.

But now, there was someone he had all to himself. The adrenaline rush was like a sugar high. Maybe that's why he keeps it secret from Pix — selfishly, stupidly, he wants to hoard this person that draws him flowers and hearts on sticky notes.

So he does. Pixal checks in often, but not often enough to notice. Lloyd tells her all is well, he's getting on fine, criminal activity is manageable. At night, he researches a new flower to trace for his secret stalker, and leaves the sticky note by his bed.

He could leave it literally anywhere else. Pixal respects his privacy enough to not enable security cameras — which Lloyd really should do, but somehow that feels like cheating, and he has a feeling his stalker would get around them anyway — so he could leave the notes anywhere in his apartment and the stalker would find them. Why he encourages them to tiptoe around his room, he has no idea. He doesn't stay up for them, or set up cameras or tripwires or alarms. He lets them come. For some insane reason, he trusts this person not to kill him in his sleep.

One day, he thinks to ask a few questions. So he prints out a nice little photo of Borage — bluntness and directness — and asks, what's your name?

He sets it carefully on his vanity — listen, he needs some form of self-care and Pixal says he needs to do something other than play video games in his limited free time — and goes to sleep with adrenaline in his stomach.

He wakes up to a miniature sea of notes taped to his mirror. Incomplete lines go over every tiny square, completely incomprehensible. So Lloyd makes himself toast — he has the good bread, which he doesn't remember buying — and sets to work decoding. Eventually, he figures out it's a puzzle. Rearranged, the notes form a large flower. He scans the pile for some kind of clue as to what flower it is, and finds the answer on the back of his own note from the night before. In deep, blood-red ink, are the words red Camellia.

He's embarrassed to admit he rushed to his computer for the answer. Almanac, Red Camellia: "You’re a flame in my heart". A hot blush had eclipsed his face that morning, followed by a rabbit hole of searches that include, but are not limited to:

What to do if my stalker is in love with me

Does red camellia mean they're in love with you

What to do if I'm in love with my stalker

How to know you're in love

Is consensual stalking a thing

…it was a weird morning.

They continue to play this dangerous game. Lloyd knows it's dangerous — how many times had he been told, as an oblivious kid, that feeding into this kind of stuff would only make the delusions and obsessions worse? He's knows it's incredibly dangerous. This person knows he's the Green Ninja — his identity isn't exactly a secret — and they seem to know literally everything else about him. They could hurt him with that knowledge.

But that's just the thing: they don't.

This person does seem to know absolutely everything about him, and it's so enticing. They know what brand of tea he likes. They know he sleeps in socks, because he needs to be as warm as possible while cocooned in his nest-like bed, and his socks are always miraculously warm when he gets home. They know he likes to play DVDs over streaming, and they're always tidy and unscratched.

So he doesn't do anything. He encourages it, even. Because there is something so close to a sugar rush about this dangerous game.

And Lloyd has always had an insatiable sweet tooth. His stalker knows it, too, because he begins waking up to chocolate chip pancakes. It's an excellent way to start the day, next to a fresh vase of white clovers — think of me.

They know so much about him that they only get him female flowers, because they know his overly sensitive nose can't handle pollen. They also know exactly what kind of allergy meds actually work on his insane metabolism.

He adores it. There is someone in the world who knows him so deeply they pay attention to the gender of the flowers they buy. Before this started, Lloyd didn't even know flowers had genders.

Maybe it's his weird, fucked up childhood that's made him find this behavior, which is genuinely atrocious in every sense of the word, endearing and exciting. He can't help it. The secrets he hides from Pix, the way he dodges questions during video calls with the others, the back-and-forth of messages and flowers… it's sweet. The adrenaline is like molten sugar and honeyed pixie sticks. It's caramel nougats and tart truffles. Soon, it's Fennel (flattery) and Fern (magic, fascination, secret bonds of love) and Gardenias (you’re lovely, secret love).

It's utterly intoxicating. Lloyd soon decides that, among the Ferns and Gardenias and Fennel that his admirer leaves him, he needs to start leaving gifts. In a frenzy, he abandons his usual routine of Saturday mornings — going to the park and breathing in fresh, non-acrid crime air and enticing ducks to jump in his hands, just because he can — and stays home to research 'candy language'.

…it doesn't go well. Apparently, 'candy language' means 'how to say chocolate in Sanskrit'. Which. Not exactly helpful to his weird stalker obsession. So instead, he goes out of his way to find those corny little candy hearts that have equally corny sayings on them like 'be mine' and 'only you'. He knows he's caught his stalker's attention by breaking routine, because they know every second of it by now, he's sure of it.

He doesn't think the candies are very good, but he leaves them next to the sticky note on his dresser anyways, with a little Morning Glory doodled on the paper. It's crude and he doubts anyone could identify the drawing as said flower, but he trusts in his scarily intelligent stalker to piece it together.

And so they do. The next morning, there is a brand new gift: a book. Lloyd, curious, opens to the first page. There is a flattened red Salvia — forever mine — between the pages and delicate words scrawled in gold ink. For you to read on Friday.

Their handwriting is the same as the only other note they ever wrote actual words on, the Camellia, but what really makes his heart pound is the 'Friday'. On Friday evenings, he stays up late to read because on Saturdays, he sleeps in before going to the park.

Nya once told him something she'd read somewhere: 'to be loved is to be seen'. She said that's how Jay made her feel — seen. Was this it? To be seen, as he was?

What does it matter if he's seen through his window, or the lens of a hidden camera?

He sets the book down, reverently, and leaves it there until he stumbles back home after another night of fighting crime with Pixal's assistance. He slips on fuzzy socks that are always warm, and drinks tea that he didn't buy, and doesn't bother going to the AC to change the temperature because he knows it's already set to perfect. He plops into bed, and opens the book.

It's delicious. Page after page is filled with fiction he never thought he'd be interested in. Stories about flowers that carve into your ribcages and sit there for eternity until you cough up thorns. Vines that hold you down until they can kiss you. Deadly nightshade and belladonna that turns your skin black and blue with bruised touches.

The best part is, as always, the flowers. After the third flower name he finds scrawled in the corner, he digs up his laptop and spends the night decoding. Yellow roses — jealousy — tell Lloyd that his stalker is jealous of the characters who confess to each other. Heliotrope — eternal love and devotion — tell him that his admirer thinks the character is pathetic compared to what they could do for Lloyd.

It's inane and absurd for Lloyd to think he can read the mind of who is probably a dangerous sociopath, but he doesn't care. There is someone in the world who has chased after him for possibly years, who knows him better than anybody, it seems, and who is eternally, deeply, helplessly in love with him.

He can't bear it much longer. It dawns on him how unfair their situation is. His stalker knows him inside and out, but all Lloyd can glean is gleaned from flowers pressed between book pages and gifted in glass vases. All his information is born from an almanac.

He grows them, this time. In between exchanging truffles and nougats and mints for Lady's Slippers — capricious beauty — and blue Salvias — I think of you — he grows flowers of his own. He has bought many plants from stores that he keeps on windows and shelves to make his home lighter and fuller in the absence of his siblings, and his stalker takes better care of them than he did. But this is a secret of his own.

He doesn't know if he can hide it from them, but he tries. First, he does his damnedest to find every single sign of surveillance. He puts tape on his computer cameras, peers into every corner, hell he checks the legs of his couch. He finds a few microscopic cameras, which should really freak him out but don't, and leaves them where they are.

He doesn't need to remove the cameras. He just needs to know how to find them.

His stalker knows he's up to something. They send him botanical horrors strife with mystery, and Columbines that mean curiosity in the most devoted sense. He sends them cherry-filled chocolate and a candy heart that says XOXO.

He finds his blind spot. He hopes they trust him enough not to fill it. He grows his own flower in between botanical horrors and crime fighting and sporadic bouquets that put every simple lily and petunia to shame.

Pixal notices his sporadic behavior. She asks him what's happened. He smiles and says that he's made a new friend, is all, and she tells him she's happy. Pixal is easy like that. They've gotten closer over these months that the other Ninja have been gone, but she doesn't feel the need to push into every facet of his life.

Why does he like it when his stalker does?

Maybe because they already know. He knows by now that they've had to have been following him for years now. There's something sweetly exhilarating about that — being trailed by an obsessive flower without ever noticing. Are they nightshade? Belladonna? Foxglove, Lily of the Valley?

He wants to know how sweet those flowers are. Will they taste like honey on his tongue, or pixie stix? Pocky, or sour patches?

There is someone who knows him inside and out, and he wants desperately to meet them. To hear from their own lips what they think of him.

He writes this on a sticky note, next to a heart that says 'don't be shy, be my valentine', which is horrendously cheesy and not half as elegant as his stalker's beautiful flower language. 'Who are you? Why do you love me?'

They send back a bouquet. It sits in a glimmering emerald green vase with gold rim, bursting with color. Daffodils for generosity, Gladiolus for heroism, Orchids and Irises for beauty, and Panda Lilies for loyalty, devotion, and secret love.

They send no sign of who they are. But the confession is enough to make his heart race, his cheeks flame, and his skin crawl with hot fireflies.

He must be really, really messed up to like being stalked and having his house broken into. This person is cooking him food, and he just eats it! They could do anything they wanted to him. He doesn't care. Because they both know.

Lloyd could end this as easily as they could. Lloyd could power up his ethereal element and wipe them from the face of the planet as easily as they could slip foxglove into his oatmeal. Lloyd could have twenty high-tech lasers pointed at them before they stepped foot inside as easily as they could slit his throat.

It's a game. A game of passing notes like high schoolers, and of Lloyd changing the passcode to his front door every week, and delving into the hidden messages in between forest rot and poison love. In between growing secret flowers.

Finally, finally, after three months of the exhilarating back and forth, something happens.

It was a long night. Some gun-trading organization had set themselves up big, and Pix was busy on the other side of town with a shitshow of a monorail wreck, so Lloyd went in alone. He wasn't shot, but he was kicked around.

He leans his forehead against the cool metal of the elevator as it hums, dutifully raising him to his apartment. At least at the end of the day he has a penthouse with a personal gym to go home to. Perks of saving the world five times over.

He stumbles across the short carpeted hall, probably dripping blood from a still-broken nose, and rocks against his door. He fumbles with the passcode, but the door is already slightly ajar. Nerves buzz in his head. That's not right. He locked it, he was sure of it.

He breathes out slowly, silently, through his mouth. He doesn't bother pulling his mask up — his nose protests the idea, and whoever's in here must know whose apartment they're inside. He silently prays that he really did just leave the door open, but he knows he didn't.

He slips inside, perfectly silent, exactly as his uncle and father trained him. The lights are off. He inhales through his nose, as deeply as he can without aggravating it too much. His apartment smelled normal… no. More flowery. Like the plants he stuffed into every available corner had grown in intensity. His pointed ears flicked. There was a grinding noise, coming from the kitchen. A garbage disposal?

He slinks down the hall, quiet as a cat. The disposal grows louder.

There is a person in his kitchen. Lloyd holds his breath, watching them with green eyes like crescent moon slits in the dark. Their silhouette is dark and featureless, but they appear incensed. They're violently shoving something down the garbage disposal, swearing to themself. They're a few inches taller than Lloyd is, not very thin but not very bulky. Muscle built from regular exercise like jogging and physical labor. Not a gym rat, but no slouch. From the way they hold themself, they don't seem like they'd be good in a fight. Their center of gravity is off, and their twitchiness isn't a good sign.

Lloyd sniffs the air. More of that scent. It's achingly familiar. The stranger's swears grow minutely louder, and he makes out "I'll hunt them down and shove hemlock down their eye sockets" before he intervenes.

"What are you doing in my kitchen?"

They freeze. Lloyd holds a glimmering sphere of pulsing green energy, his element more than willing to burst. The eerie green light scatters through the room, illuminating the contours of the intruder's face. A boy with tan brown skin, an angular face, and soft brown hair. It's not shoulder-length like Lloyd's, just long enough to curl around the nape of his neck.

His eyes widen. Those are brown too, a honey color like toffee. The intruder rips out what he was shoving down the garbage disposal — a bouquet of roses.

"Fuck," he whispered. His voice wasn't very deep, wasn't very light. It was low from his whisper, carrying more weight than to be expected of such soft sounds. "I almost forgot how quiet you are."

Lloyd steps forward, jaw set. "Who are you? Why are you in my apartment?"

The stranger's jaw ticks irritably. They hold up the tattered bouquet. "Really, Lloyd?" He whispers. It startles Lloyd to be referred to by his first name. The intruder's eyes grow manic, filled with rage. "I don't mind the gifts. Really, I don't! A charm bracelet, a beaded necklace, stick figures and macaroni art — it's adorable, seriously. How much your fans love you." Fans? Lloyd's face begins to flush on reflex. The intruder's lips quirk, but his eyes don't lose their manic sheen. "You deserve the recognition, the fame, the accolades. You deserve it all and more. I love how much you love their gifts. But this?!" They shake the roses. Broken petals flutter to the floor. "ROSES?! A Sunflower, a Carnation, hell, even Ivy! But red ROSES?!"

He's begun stalking toward Lloyd, blood red petals trailing in his furious wake. Lloyd finds himself backing up. "You accepted roses," the intruder spits, "from a stranger! Roses! How could you?!"

He's betrayed, Lloyd realizes. Betrayed by Lloyd's actions. This afternoon, before heading out for the night again, Lloyd had happened upon a fan. A girl around his age who had shyly given him one, before rushing off stammering and blushing. He hadn't kept the roses out of some kind of requited love.

And now, he's pissed off his stalker.

Lloyd bares his teeth, thin fangs glinting from the ball of green light glistening around his fingertips. "Back up, man," he threatens.

He doesn't. Faster than Lloyd can blinks, he whips out a thick white cloth from his pocket and lunges forward. Lloyd dodges to the side, but his assailant just smirks when he does. Before he has time to question it, vines are erupting around his feet and entangling his legs. He stumbles, and the intruder takes the chance to press the cloth against his mouth and nose. He reflexively sucks in a breath, and then he's gone.

He wakes slowly. The lights are on — the warm lamps, not the overhead fluorescent fixtures. The room smells of his abundance of flowers — no roses — and food. He groans, shaking his head as he sits further up.

He's propped up against the arm rest of his couch, a pillow pushed snugly behind him and a blanket he didn't own yesterday over his legs. He notices that his hands and forearms are bound together with soft ribbons of felt and silk. His mouth isn't gagged.

"You're awake," a soft voice says behind him. He turns to find the intruder with wide honey eyes filled to the brim with devotion and excitement. Similar excitement curls in his stomach.

He's been knocked out and tied up, and he wants to- what? Make out with the guy who did it?

"I knew you would be," his stalker babbles reverently, wrapping around the back of the couch to set a plate on the coffee table. "I had to up the dosage for your metabolism, but I made sure it was exactly right. I know exactly how much you can take. And I patched you up. I'll kill whoever did that to you." He's leaned in, now, breath hot and soft against Lloyd's face. He blinks. Turns to the plate.

"Is… that food?"

His stalker nods excitedly. "Yes! I know you've had a poor night. And I hate that you keep eating cup noodles for dinner — they make you lethargic. Here," he offers a forkful of pork chop to Lloyd, right up to his lips. Lloyd raises a brow.

"You're… going to feed me?"

"Yes."

"Why should I trust anything you cook?" Lloyd asks skeptically. It's a test. His stalker's eyes glint dangerously. Lloyd is quickly finding that he likes that dangerous look. After so many years of being a ninja, he's attracted to danger like a magnet to the north pole.

"If I wanted to kill you," his stalker whispers, leaning in, "I'd use Hemlock in your hibiscus tea. I'd put Nightshade in your toffee. I'd melt down Oleander and turn it into candle wax, and I'd put Aconitum in your air purifier." He lifts the fork again with a smile. The insane sheen in his eyes hasn't disappeared. "Please don't think I'd insult you like that."

Lloyd opens his mouth and accepts the food. He hums, swallowing. "It's good," he murmurs. His stalker's eyes light up in excitement, pride glowing in every feature.

"I know," they whisper frantically, "I used your favorite seasonings. I know everything about you, darling." Lloyd's heart skips a beat. Darling. So hopelessly romantic.

What's romantic about drugging and tying him up? About watching him through windows and hidden cameras? Everything, Lloyd thinks dreamily, drinking in every feature of the boy in front of him. He has a birth mark under his right eye. A small, faded scar on his cheekbone.

"Mm," Lloyd hums, letting the stalker feed him another bite. "I don't think I've told you how much I like your cooking before."

His eyes shine again, a proud grin overtaking his features. "I know you do," he speaks. He says everything quickly, like he can't wait to get the words out. "I know what your favorite dessert is, your favorite pasta and bread and tea- here," he presents Lloyd with a glass cup of hibiscus tea and straw. "For you."

He takes a sip. It's perfect. "Honey?"

"A drizzle," his stalker whispers reverently, "Just how you like it. I even know your coffee order, Lloyd. Your real one, not the one you let the barista keep mixing up. Want me to kill her for you? No, of course not, you're more noble than that." The stalker sighs dreamily, leaning in even closer. Lloyd couldn't avoid his eyes if he tried. "I love that about you, Azalea."

Lloyd's heart sings. He licks his lips, and doesn't miss how his stalker stares. "Azalea?"

"The mind-altering honey," his stalker responds. "Perfect. One of a kind. Wrong color, though I've been working on that."

"You breed plants?"

"You noticed!" His stalker exclaims, laughing. "Of course you did! You're so much smarter than anyone knows. That's how I knew you'd know, you know. About me. You figured it all out so fast. You're like a drug."

Lloyd knows what he means. This entire interaction has him feeling high as a sugar rush, liquid honey in his veins and starbursts in his eyes. He breathes in shakily. Not because he's scared, even though he should be screaming for Pixal by now. He's alight with nerves, prickling his skin with goosebumps.

"This wasn't how I had our first meeting planned," his stalker says quietly. "I was going to be more romantic. A meet-cute."

"Meet-cute?" Lloyd breathes, exhilarated.

"Yeah. I know you like the romance-y tropes," his stalker says, completely genuine. He's right. A little part of Lloyd, kept tucked away by duty and his overly complicated life, wants to be swept off his feet. "I'd bump into you on the sidewalk. I'd fall, but not really — I'd be faking it. You would help me up, apologize. Expect me to recognize you," he speaks at a dizzying pace in short, choppy sentences, breathless. "But I wouldn't. I'd ask for your name, and you'd tell me, brace for it- but I'd say nice to meet you, and-"

Lloyd realizes he's been tensing in anticipation. His stalker looks at him, devotion clear on his face. "I'm so angry at you," he confesses, hands wrapping around Lloyd's immobile one. He tenses, but his stalker just lowers his head until his forehead presses against Lloyd's knuckles. He shivers from the touch.

This is real. This is very, very real. How devoted is he, Lloyd wonders in an almost drunken haze. He wants to push it. See how far this boy will go.

"Why?" He murmurs innocently. His stalker glares up at him from under his thick brown bangs.

"Roses. Red. Roses. How could you?" His stalker gets up, but he doesn't get off. It's becoming very clear that this boy has no concept of personal space. He straddles Lloyd, arms caging him in. Lloyd lets him. It's exciting. The stalker snarls, but not at Lloyd — at the roses. "I'm better than roses. I know I am. I'd never send you roses."

"I thought red roses meant love?"

"They're pathetic!" His stalker exclaims, rising to the bait easily. "They're mediocre, basic, mainstream — everyone uses roses! There's no thought behind them! Who could give you Morning Glories in every color of your eyes? Who could know only white Hyacinths describe how lovely you are? I'm better than roses!"

Lloyd smirks at him. "I know."

He didn't keep the roses out of some kind of requited love. At least, not for his poor fan.

His stalker's eyes widen. Then he grins, with all his predatory teeth. "Of course," he whispers, laughing under his breath. "You're so much smarter than anybody gives you credit for." He brushes a hand under Lloyd's blonde hair, so softly. Lloyd has never appreciated being treated as delicate, but this isn't that. This is raw obsession. "You knew I'd be mad, didn't you? You kept the roses to make me mad."

Lloyd leans forward, lips brushing against soft brown skin so lightly they might as well not have touched at all. But his stalker stiffens and swallows thickly. "So what if I did?" He whispers. "Maybe I'm tired of this. Maybe I wanted to know as much about you as you know about me."

"I've been following you your entire life," his stalker says, "you could never catch up."

"My entire life?" Lloyd arches a brow. He scans his stalker's face. It's vaguely familiar. "Who are you?"

He laughs. He gets off of Lloyd, which is something he secretly mourns, and stabs into the food. Lloyd takes the bite while he talks. "I've been following you so long. At first I stayed online. Every video, every picture… it was never enough. I collected all your merch, you know. I've been waiting for this for so long."

Lloyd swallows. "How did you do that with the vines? How have you been in my room without waking me up?" He's hungry for the answers to their game.

"I've been breeding plants for years," his stalker says. "I have one for every occasion. As for the second part…" he waves the white cloth Lloyd was suffocated with. "Little bit of this. Small dosages, of course, and only at night."

Lloyd blinks. "I'd have smelled that."

"Not if I added it to your air fresheners and candles slowly over several weeks," his stalker responds smugly. Lloyd's eyes widen. Of course. His nose was too sensitive not to pick up on sudden smells, but… "You naturally filter out smells," his stalker says easily, like they're discussing the weather, "if they're familiar enough. And you have so many scented candles, it was easy to disguise my mix until you got used to it. It helps with the nightmares, doesn't it?"

Lavender and poppies. He smelled it every single night. Fuck, he thought it was his detergent!

"Well played," Lloyd admits. His stalker's eyes light up, practically glowing with obsession.

Is it bad that Lloyd likes it? Someone is so obsessed with him they went through the trouble of Pavlov-ing him with lavender and poppies. If a bouquet of roses is romantic, this is downright swoon-worthy.

His stalker brushes a knuckle over Lloyd's cheek fondly. "So pretty," he murmurs. "You have markings… your powers? It's the one thing I can't figure out."

"Maybe," Lloyd responds quietly. "I don't know either."

His stalker sighs. "I had it all planned out so well," he moaned, "a meet-cute. You'd be so excited to have found someone who didn't know you. No expectations. We'd text for three days, and we'd both flirt but you'd wait for me to make the first move… you're insecure like that," his voice is wistful and dreamlike, like he's sucked them both into a fantasy. "You shouldn't be. You're perfect." Lloyd blushes, squirming. He wants his hands free.

That's just the thing, though. He could get free easily. They both know it. He could topple this stranger in a second, blast his face off without breaking a sweat. That's the allure.

For whatever reason, Lloyd is in love with danger and fear. It's a result of falling from crashing ships and dancing around vengestone blades, of being possessed and kidnapped and stabbed and strangled. Danger is the one thing he knows intimately, and this danger in front of him is so enticing he feels high on it. A sugar rush. He is in love with the sugar rush of danger, and the boy before him is a skydive right into it.

They both know Lloyd can get free. They both like it.

"Then what?" Lloyd breathes. He wants to hear more of this fantastical date.

"I would take you to the movies," his stalker says, "I planned it perfectly. Opening night: a slasher comedy. You like scary movies, but you're jumpy. So naturally, you would grab my arm. We'd share a popcorn bucket, and I'd reach in whenever you did so our fingers brush."

It's so romantic Lloyd wants to bite something. The amount of detail, the precise planning… this isn't a stalker that wants to stare at him forever like a doll, or keep him stationary in a basement. This isn't a stalker with delusions and no sense that he's a person. This is a stalker that wants to stare at him forever like something divine. Who wants to keep him inside his ribcage so they can share a heart.

His heart pounds.

"I'd walk you home," his stalker says softly, "and you'd invite me to stay." He's right, Lloyd would. "You'd feel bad for making me stay on the couch, so I'd say we should both camp out and sleep on the couch together. You would agree, and we'd spend the night talking. Reminiscing. Catching up."

Lloyd tilts his head. "Reminiscing?"

His stalker's eyes sparkle. "Of course. You remember me, don't you?"

Lloyd searches his face. There is a distant tug of familiarity. Not to the face — to the plants. He slowly shakes his head. "I… no…"

His stalker holds his hands in both of his own. "Brad," he whispers desperately, "Brad Tudabone."

A boy taller than him. A boy with blood on his angry fists. A boy who hit him first, yes, but then hit anybody else who dared touch him three times as hard. A boy who was nice to him, and got so horribly defensive and protective that he broke bones for him. Foxglove in secret, nightshade in the shadows, oleander in private. In the soups of Lloyd's bullies, and black mold in the shadows of the teacher's quarters.

"Brad," Lloyd whispers reverently, eyes lighting up in recognition. "From Darkley's."

"I knew it!" Brad exclaims, beaming. "I knew you'd say that!"

Lloyd laughs breathlessly. A distant past so old he hasn't thought of it for years. "How long?" Lloyd asks. "How long have you been in love with me?"

"Forever," Brad says, pressing a numb kiss to his knuckles. Lloyd's face burns, and he fights back a childish giggle. "You were perfect from day one. I've been so obsessed with you… nothing is ever enough. The first person who was nice to me… you were like the sun, Jessamine."

"Jessamine?"

"The twining vine," Brad answers. "Beautiful. One flower is enough to kill a man."

"I've been growing you something," Lloyd confesses, lurching forward, "in the blind spot."

Brad smiles. "I know. I know everything about you."

"Do you know what I'm growing?"

"Not yet." It's a promise.

"Hydrangea."

Gratitude for being understood

"Perfect," Brad whispers frantically. "FSM, you're so fucking perfect. I wanted to wait until I was done. I would've been done with it-"

"With what?"

"Ornithogalum. The Star of Bethlehem," he whispered, cupping Lloyd's cheek. "Toxic. One of a kind. Could kill a grown man with ease." He isn't talking about the flower. "So dangerous. So beautiful. For you, darling."

Lloyd breaks the bindings and flings his hands around Brad's neck. His lips taste like poison in the best way. Gardenia, Forget-Me-Nots, Honeysuckle and red camellia and salvia in the best way.

Mine. Mine mine mine, says Brad's mouth against his, whispering reverently. He's been cornered in his apartment for months, stalked by a predator armed to the teeth in poison. A predator who lied in wait until his protective family vanished and he got comfortable alone.

He loves it. Someone who wants him so fiercely, with such devotion, to wait years and years just for the chance to fake a meet-cute?

Roses would never be enough. There is only the sugar rush of a boy made of hemlock and nightshade, draped in jessamine and red salvia falling from lips made of camellia.

"Yarrow," Lloyd whispers between frantic kisses, pressed into the couch as he tastes the honeysuckle on Brad's tongue. "Yarrow."

"I'll ruin you," Brad says suddenly, lifting his head and staring down at Lloyd with frankly really fucking hot intensity, "for anybody else. You're mine. I'll kill anyone who thinks about taking you from me, got it?"

Lloyd nods and pulls him back down. "Yarrow. Everlasting love."

Lloyd Garmadon has a stalker who leaves him poison and thorns and the most beautiful flowers in the world. Roses would never be enough. Only yarrow and hydrangea and obsessive red salvia.

[sass-ruby]

Alright, so we shall talk about these two videos and the new channel :DD

First off all, for the new channel, me and my friends noticed they used MASM to make it

Understandable honestly, it's probably easier that way- since MASM already had subscribers and all

I was so confused on how I was already subbed 😭

Also don't mind the MASM logo for the second picture, I dunno how to make it go away

ANYWAYS ONTO THE EPISODES

Ah, usual moon things.. making robots that end up wanting to commit genocide ☠️ (reminds me of that one MASM episode with the raccoon)

Sundroid is so silly. THE SINGING AFTER EVERY SENTENCE GOT ME TBH

He's just a silly innocent guy :33 that wanted to pull a ruin but that's unrelated

I find it kinda cute that moon made sundroid based off of sun, adding the things sun usually does- it's just sweet in a way djdjjs

Sun was SO done with moon tho- WHICH WAS FUNNY

"you are a genius, but you are so SO STUPID AT TIMES" I LOVED IT FR

I was laughing my ass off 😭😭

Also KILLER SUN MENTIONED ‼️‼️

when sundroid entered the void/a dimension (idk I don't remember), there was a certain voice at minute 14:00.. it sounded A LOT like killer sun, not just by voice but by the way of talking

I love killer sun, I hope he gets more attention on the channel.. because ngl I like the dynamics-

Sun cannot STAND killer sun, bro would kill him in an instant. HE LITERALLY SAID SOMETHING LIKE "should've thrown a firebal-.."

I like how sun and moon kinda switched places- before moon was the one wanting to kill anyone who's a slight annoyance, but now sun seems to be like that. Like, when they first met killer sun, sun immediately told moon if he doesn't do anything, he's gonna kill him with NO hesitation

They really remind me of this picture (not my art!)

The amount of change they've both been through, holy..

IT MAKES ME A BIT SAD THINKING ABOUT IT

Back to killer sun and the dynamic-

Killer sun seems to be a huge annoyance to sun.. it sort of reminds me of past nexus and past ruin, the ruin who acted insane

Past nexus HATED ruin, sun was the one who tried his best to not intervene and probably tried to get past nexus to not kill ruin (?? I forgot)

Now, moon is the one staying quiet.. that killer sun himself mentioned

Meanwhile, killer sun? He's just a silly guy, alr? 😭 HE'S JUST SILLY AND I SUPPORT HIS RIGHTS AND WRONGS

(totally not contemplating deleting this part because I'm scared I'll get backlash for my observations being wrong or something)

TO THE SECOND EPISODE!!

(pic again because yes)

This was- one way to introduce the new channel ☠️ (In a good way!!)

I'm really looking forward to this channel ^^ it'll be neat! And it will most likely become another one of my new hyperfixations <33

I'm glad it's this and not lunar and astrals or something.. I don't really like the star power thing, plus, why would they make a channel?

No offense to those who wanted it tho! We all have our preferences, it's completely normal

I thought it would be called sunny and moony show- I didn't expect femme nights at freddy's but oh well, that's probably to make it easier to differentiate since when shortening it, it would be the same-

TSAMS (the sun and moon show)

TSAMS (the sunny and moony show)

Can't put moony first either, that would be MASM then. It'd be really bothersome- so the shortened version of this show would beeee...

Insert deep thinking

Help- it'd basically be FNAF 😭 um- I'm sure people will find a shortened version that'll fit good enough! Maybe like- FMAFS? I DON'T KNOW 💔

I wonder if they'll get traumatized though.. or if it will just be a silly show

I'M SO EXCITED FOR NEW VIDEOS OF THIS SHOW EEEEEE >:DDDDD

Tsams answered my prayers frfr (I did hope that they wouldn't just be a one time thing)

I like them, they're silly!! Their models, voices, personalities.. EVERYTHING. I LOVE IT ALLLL

And I like how chaotic they are with sun and moon 😭

LIKE IN THE VIDEO- THE BANTER MADE ME LAUGH SM

AND THE STRESSING-

"I HAVE THE NUKES READY :3"

"WHAT????"

Also monty in that universe having a bunch of nitroglycerin in his room.. ☠️ I LOVE HOW THEY'RE BOTH LIKE "that's just a monty thing!"

I didn't know nitroglycerin was used to make bombs!! THANK YOU FOR THAT INFORMATION DEAR EPISOD- /J

Another thing.. The mention of sun's adaptability is fascinating to me

Sun always seems to be the outcast/dumb one, but there's always ONE thing that surprises the others. I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO EXPLAIN IT BETTER

Example is in that simulation- sure it's only a simulation, but the way merged sun+eclipse was surprised about sun's emotions

"I feel the need to kill that- thing! Yet I have this.. unending thankfulness.. is this what it's like to be sun?!"

I'm not sure if the need to kill moon in that simulation was a part of eclipse's or sun's emotions, but I think it could be both.

I always headcannoned that sun does feel a bit of resentment towards moon. I came to that conclusion by some of the things he says sometimes. They're brushed aside by most, but not with me :3

Example is when sun said to himself smt like- "two moons?? I can BARELY deal with on- okay no.. stop." Or something like that, I can't find the episode so not sure of the exact sentence.. but the way he STOPPED himself, it was like he was telling himself to stop being angry or to not hold a grudge

Yet, as the merged fellow said, he feels unending thankfulness at the same time which is seen by a lot of things-

That's just one of my personal headcanons, I feel that feeling too and I see myself A LOT in sun sooo

But YEEEE

I hope the new channel doesn't end up like MASM 😭 I doubt it will tho

These two episodes were fun, and got a really good laugh out of me jdjdjsj

THAT WOULD BE ALLLLL

TOODLESSSSSSS <3333

Edit:

I just realized- sun calling moon a genius yet telling him he's so stupid reminds me of that one meme-

"there's a thin line between being a genius and being an idiot... Sebastian uses that line like a FUCKING jump rope!"

THAT MOMENT WAS SO THEM 😭🙏

I love their brotherly dynamic frfr

[hawtlineblingz]

☁️ CLOUD'S MOODBOARD ☁️

I was never the same person after FFVII Rebirth, i need to get rid of my Cloud brainrots. So here is some BF Cloud headcanons (god help me i need him in my life) ...

As we all know, deepdown Cloud is a goofball by heart. Friendly banter, silly inner jokes that only you two could understand is not new.

Prefer to have dates with less people.

Surprisingly not shy with PDA, just normal ones like handholdings, would rest his hand on your shoulder or back, etc.

Took you out with Fenrir; Nicely polished. His back seat served only for you.

Babysitting dates! Amusement park / arcade, the four of you; You, Cloud, Denzel, and Marlene. Would give them everything he got in trade for Marlene and Denzel's smile, something he wishes to have when he was younger.

Denies so hard when you tell him he's actually good at tending kids. The pink hue on his cheeks and ears can't lie tho.

Quiet bold in private, isn't afraid to initiate things once he's comfortable enough with you, pulling you on his lap when he's feeling a bit touch starved; only SOMETIMES he can malfunctioned after he make a move on you.

Easily worried type of BF.

OBSERVANT.

Loves tiny matching items.

Bro is a slow kisser.

Comfy silence is common with him around, just you doing your own thing and him doing his own thing. In the same room at the same time, aka PARALLEL PLAY is his type of quality time.

Would let you yap about your hyperfixations no matter what it is.

Try his best to love you correctly. His past doesn't allow him to feel things, often felt numb before he met you. When actually he has so much love to give to the people around him. Secretly teared up when he thinks about how many chances you gave him trough out the relationship, despite he is in the process of healing himself.

"You're not funny." he lied. He loves how corny your jokes is sometimes, brings smile to his face when he's alone.

The way he calms you down when things aren't going your way. Cloud does not talk alot but he has his ways to make sure you know he would always be there for you even when the world isn't on your side.

HIS. DATE. FITS. ACTUALLY. ATE. "Where did you learned to style your fits like this Cloud?", "dunno, magazines? I think? i hope i don't look wierd."

smitten eyes.

Hates it when you "bro" him (lykyk).

"I AIN'T YOUR BRO".

His phone gallery is most likely filled pics of your candids, Marlene, Denzel, baby chocobos, Fenrir, and the most random stuff ever. "Cloud, why'd you kept a pic of our electric fan?", "honestly...i don't remember."

Cloud cosplay pictures are from @_allixter_ on TikTok. Go check out his account!

[fazfuri]

OK so, this might seem really obvious-ish now that I think about it, but you said Brutus wasn’t noble/royal at the start. Add that with Warrior of the mind, it seems that they BUILT the kingdom, together. You can see them mapping blue prints for the castle and all that. ALSO the symbol of the flag is really similar to the crown he wear, and both have the blue four pointed star, WHICH deity has! So that could be sort of like… showing they built it together idk.

I love how you said the staff stabilizes deity and when we see them without you for too long you can see kind of glitches or smth.

anyway I remember the whole deity can read minds thing, but he didn’t see the betrayal coming thing so like… add that with the comment Brutus makes about thought privacy or whatever this implies that deity really liked him(duh) and trusted him enough to just… not. Read his thoughts? Sorry that seems really obvious.

Another thing that seems really obvious to me as I write it out is that almost all records of deity on earth disappeared . It feels like after the incident he purged all records because he didn’t want to be associated with it anymore. He didn’t want anything to do with earth anymore.

a question I have though is that we know deity doesn’t have a physical form (whole reason for the deal with ford) but, like, did that happen because of the incident/because of Brutus or did that happen when he ripped a tear in the space thingy in an attempt to get rid of his past?

also sorry for flooding your inbox because I just went through your whole profile. I love everything about this and lowkey might start hyperfixating <3

1. The thing is, the kingdom was already built and there was a previous king before Brutus (exclusive art on patreon!) They just planned a way to improve it with Brutus being the new ruler and all

2. There are more reasons why Deity didn't see the betrayal coming. I cant rly specify which parts of the april fools video are accurate and what's not tho.

3. Lastly, your last 2 questions would be for ppl to find out in the future :}

[koolades-world]

Hihihihi, in case ya remember me, im the Pain-sensitive anon, and in case i will request again remember me as BigS, because my requests are as big as my S, but enough about that.

Poor you, so many requests. Drink water, be stronger that those 637181 requests, don't let them kill you!!!

But im here to torture you with another one~

So i have an album with 3814 Asmodeus screenshots(I FKIN LOVE MY BOYFRIEND!!!), and i had an idea "dam, if Asmo became real, it would be very hard to explain why i have 4k pics with him... " So here is request!

Brothers, finding out that MC's new hyperfixation is... them?

Apparently MC is neurodivergent or something like that, and as many neurodivergent ppl, they have a hyperfixation! They just randomly becoming very interested in something specific and collect stuff with it, talk with everyone about it, and remember every single detail about it! Like Levi with TSL.

But one day, brothers realise that MC stopped talking about their past fixation and was less interested with it. They think that "Oh, they probably just found something new!". But one day, they take MC's phone just to find that... They have a giant album in their gallery that is dedicated only to him????

The album has every photo he posted on Devilgram, every photo that he send MC, some unique photos that MC shooted themselves, even some chat screenshots with times when he said something cute to them! They even was photographing thigs that "reminds of him". Like some cheeseburger with "Beel vibes", Blue flower that "Looks like Luci" or gorgeous mannequin that "feels like Asmo".

If its someone like Asmo, he would also notice thta MC started buying their fanclub's merch! Like "Asmo lover #1" shirt or "Lucifer best man!!"cup(Luci is very popular, he probably also has some fanclubs! i hate this guy tho)

I think Levi and Mammon would die from embarrassment. Asmo would die out of happiness and Satan with Luci will try to pretend like thay never saw that. and idk about other ones. :P

I think that would make a cute fluff and a very scary situation if it was real uwu

Thats all

Have a nice dayyyyyyyyyyyy~~~

-BigS aka.AlgophobicDude

hey! great to hear from you again :)

haha thank you! been slowly knocking out requests one at a time and let me tell you it's a lot more fun than it might look haha

i wrote this while wearing a pink cowboy hat. i just wanted to share that

you got it! enjoy!!

Mc with a hyperfixation on the brothers

Lucifer

is this a human thing?

he's happy to indulge you as long as you're not too loud about it out in public

especially please don't share those pictures with anyone, like mammon. he will sell those, especially the ones he only intends for you. please

he's happy you don't hate him, actually. you make this old man very happy haha

Mammon

he would never tell you, but he's also got a photo album dedicated to you

also has a note on his D.D.D. full of all the things he never said to you but hopes to be brave enough to one day to tell you

he doesn't tell you he's got that though, not in a million years

he really loves that you're hyperfixated on him because that just means you care about him just as much as he cares about you

Levi

as expected, he's very flustered

he knows what it's like to have a little blorbo and he would give anything to be able to see them daily in person and live with them

he's over the moon once he realizes this and despite his embarrassment, he pushed through to spend more time with you

he's so dedicated <3

Satan

he's probably the most puzzled

he's always learning new things about humans even when he thought he knew everything

he knows and trusts you so from time to time, he'll take a picture with you in mind that he knows will remind you of him

all in all, he does think it's a little strange but won't stop you since he's never seen you happier

Asmo

like they said, you're literally about to become the number one member of his fanclub!

lucky for you, once he finds your asmo photo album, he's feeding into your hyperfixation

you get lots of exclusive privileges, such as early morning selfies and all his merch for free, including prototypes

he's always ready to pose for a picture for you. every side is his good side!

Beel

he's a little confused but he's happy to make you happy

he listened to you talk about your hyperfixations the most beside levi so he's quick to pick up on this shift

to make you happy, he decides to make a handmade adult bib just for you haha and at first he's a little sad but then he finds it while digging for your snack stash

you've never worn it once because it's hanging in your closet next to your fancy outfits <3

Belphie

you what? is his initial reaction

from the outside, it seems like it doesn't bother him or that he could care less

but, on the inside, he's elated since he thought after how he tricked you, you'd never want to be close to him again

now, you're the very thing that makes you excited to wake up every morning by his side