#at the start he gets bearable towards the end but got i hated him for a while

[aestherin]

seatmates | scaramouche x gn! reader

a random drabble i thought of at school bc of course my mind is floating :D

i was scrolling thru my drafts when i found this i totally did not forget about this i swear </3 also not proofread bc i don't have any braincells left :DD

wc: 589

You have always hated two-person desks.

Especially those that are too narrow you and your seatmate practically have to be squished against each other in order for both of you to fully utilize the desk.

"Fucking move," Scaramouche hissed.

"No, you," you pushed against his arm which had bumped into yours earlier.

He sent death glares your way, all of which you paid no attention to. After almost a year of sitting next to each other, it was second nature to build a system that's immune to the silent and furious side-eyes of an angry cat. How long has it been? Ah.

It all started when you made the grave mistake of being late for the first day of classes. No one else wanted to sit next to the menace that is currently sending daggers your way, and so you ended up sitting on the remaining available spot — the one beside Scaramouche.

The experience wasn't all that bad, though.

Sure, sitting beside him felt like being together with a grumpy old man, but even he had some soft moments. Like when he'd let you peek at his notes when you don't understand what the lecturer was babbling about (this comes with some mockery from him, but you shrug them all off).

Or like that one time you were shivering from the AC and he let you borrow his hoodie (this came with him uttering lighthearted remarks about how you should always be prepared because what if he wasn't there to lend his hoodie? Just what are you going to do without him?)

You returned it immediately after getting it washed but he told you to keep it. It's now your favorite hoodie.

Sitting next to Scaramouche was a give-and-take situation. He would begrudgingly lend you a hand, and you would do the same. He used to disturb you from whatever you were doing just to borrow your correction tape so many times that at one point, you just laid it out on your desk, free for him to use. Luckily, he got the message and just started using it whenever he needed to. Was it just your imagination or did he really start needing the correction tape less when you just laid the thing out on the desk?

He also once left his earphones at home and kept bugging you to let him listen to whatever was playing through yours because he swears even your trashy music taste is much more bearable than listening to whatever your classmates were chattering about.

That's what he said but he now listens religiously to the playlist you've been playing on repeat.

As an attempt to get back at you for what you did earlier, he bumped his arm against yours — which was writing notes, at the moment.

Across the organized scribbling of letters and words on a page of your notebook was now a long, thick line of black ballpoint pen ink. You gasped, mouth ajar at the painful sight of a mess.

"Dude! What the fuck?" You sharply turned your head towards him, only to find that he'd already looked away from you.

"Scara, you bit—"

He only sighed.

Your attention was swayed by him slowly and gently intertwining both of your hands above the desk.

"Don't worry about it. I'll rewrite your notes for you later."

He finally gazed back at you. Blood rushed up your face as he used his hand to guide yours to his lips, pressing a light kiss.

"At least after we eat out for dinner."

[dottores]

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, dottore.

notes: this wasn't as long as i wanted for it to be but im just happy i got it out on time aufhdasuidfh i didn't think i'd be able to. i’m v sorry i haven’t answered asks yet! i promise i’ll get to it this weekend, i just got home

DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

“Hand the boy over.”

You recognized the men standing at the end of the hall now that they had come a bit closer—two nobles who had been down in the ballroom for the event. You didn’t know their first names but Artem had pointed them out as being part of the Skliar Family of western Snezhnaya, a family that was particularly anti-Fatui and loud about it… when the Fatui weren’t around, of course. They were the two younger sons of the family, a few years older than you.

Artem had been surprised that the family even showed up and you figured that they probably had ulterior motives…

… but this?

Your arms tightened a bit around the sleepy boy resting in them and he shifted a bit, stirring at the movement. He was observant, unfortunately, and seemed to realize very quickly from the tenseness in your shoulders that something was wrong. You wanted to tell him to go back to sleep but you couldn’t push out the words from your lips before he was shifting around.

When he glanced behind him to see what was happening, his whole body started trembling, red eyes widening at the sight of the two men. He didn’t cry or let out any fearful noises, it was a sort of petrified fear that made you wish you could hide him away until you figured out what to do and how to handle this.

You looked down briefly, past his face to where his legs were hanging on either side of your body, remembering how they were all cut up and bleeding to the point it was clearly painful for him to walk on them. You figured that maybe he was just clumsy and tripped running up or down a set of stairs but then you remembered how he had been hiding when you saw him, pressed into the shadows of an alcove. 

They’d been chasing him. 

“Oi, girl, did you hear me? Hand the boy over,” the shorter of the two demanded harshly, taking another step forward. 

You could see now from the shorter distance the anxiety that riddled his body. His fingers were trembling and his eyes were darting around as if monsters were going to sprout from the shadows and tear him to pieces.

They were bold for attacking the Fatui while in their most protected stronghold, if not a bit foolish—a part of you questioned whether or not they might be drunk, you had noticed some of the younger aristocrats guzzling down alcohol to try to make the night bearable enough to get through. You wondered if they knew that the Ninth Harbinger was naught but a few feet away from them behind the wall on their left. You might’ve commended them for their bravery were they not targeting a child. 

You smiled thinly. “No.”

“No?” The taller man asked, voice low.

He moved toward you—you wondered if he meant to be threatening but you didn’t see a vision on him, and even if there was one hidden somewhere, it was hard to feel threatened when you knew that the Regrator was lurking behind a door right to your side. He had to know what was happening, you could see a shadow right beneath the crack at the bottom of the door, signaling he was standing there listening to the confrontation and ready to step in, but you figured he wasn’t making himself known because he wanted to see how you handled this. 

A test. You hated tests. 

You figured you’d be able to handle it if it came down to a fight. Your father and grandfather had been quick to teach you how to immobilize grown men considering you’d be taking over your family’s position in a few years and would have to be able to drag them to the cells without them overpowering you. You would rather it not come to a fight though, your family’s hydro art was dangerous and very easy to butcher with.

“That is what I said,” you replied after a moment and then added: “If you are hard of hearing I can suggest you to a doctor, I’m sure he would be willing to take a look for you. Although, I do warn you, I’ve heard his methods are rather… unsavory.”

His methods—another subject that you had yet to broach with yourself even though you knew very well that you had to think about it. You had to force yourself to keep your chin raised as you stared at the two of them for their reactions; you had heard terrible, terrible things about the Doctor while you had traveled northward through Snezhnaya. Brutal experiments, missing children, twisted creatures and monsters that he lets free from his labs when he decides them to be a failure or drained of use. 

How was a man like that your soulmate?

You used to wonder, as a kid, what having a soulmate like your stepfather said about your mother. Now, you know that their bond wasn’t even real but yours was, and you were tied to one of the most dangerous and wicked and cold-hearted men in all of Teyvat. 

What did that say about you?

Were you a bad person? Maybe not yet, you didn’t think so at least, but maybe you had the potential of being one, if the gods thought you fit to be with him.

The taller man was livid at your implied threat of Dottore, livid and scared, reaching for something at his side—a dagger?—and you remembered then how Artem had made a comment about how many of the antagonistic families had lost people to the Fatui, particularly to the Doctor, the Friar and the Marionette. You tensed, ready to use your vision at a moment’s notice, feeling the energy seep through you as you summoned it to your defense but the man never came toward you. 

Instead, he was stopped by the shorter one.

“Hold on,” he said quietly. “That girl, she was with the Melnyks at the ball. Their heir introduced her as his fiancée.”

The taller man scoffed. “The Melnyks are so in bed with the Fatui that they’re willing to share their women now,” he spat, shooting you a look that was nothing short of derisive.

You inhaled sharply at the blatant insult. You had never been so directly disrespected like that before—in the courts of Fontaine, the nobles liked to keep their insults as passive and well-mannered as possible so that they could not be called out for making disparaging remarks about another noble family, which could cause severe financial or political trouble depending on what family had been slighted. 

You were a frequent victim to those veiled insults, dealing with underhanded comments about who the Black Cells would be passed to should your grandfather pass, implying that you were unfit to be the Warden. And then, even worse, the ones where people would make offhand observations about how maybe you would be the perfect fit for Warden considering you don’t have a soulmate, because in Fontaine, it is known that only the cursed and the heartless are not given their fated partner by Celestia. You thought that if they knew who your soulmate was, they would double down on their beliefs.

“I am not something to be shared,” you said, the thin smile on your lips now void of emotion, “and I am a lot more than just a girl who is someone’s fiancée. You will find that out soon enough if you continue to test me.”

Finally, the shorter man seemed to notice the vision laying against your chest, fashioned as a pendant on a necklace and he hesitated, glancing between you and the taller man once as if debating on warning him against acting rashly. 

Well, that at least confirmed that they did not have visions. 

You felt significantly more confident at the realization, letting your tense shoulders relax and your arms loosen around the little boy—feeling your change in demeanor, he also seemed to relax, his tight grip on your hair releasing as he laid his head back down against your shoulder. 

Did he really have that much trust in you?

But then, before the taller man could explode on you or the shorter man could warn him not to, their expressions shifted from anger and concern to downright fear—except they were not looking at you, they were looking directly behind you.

Before you could even turn to look, long and thin fingers wrapped around your shoulders, nails digging harshly into your skin—distantly, you thought for sure it would be bruised tomorrow but you were more anxious at the sudden new arrival and whether or not they were an ally or enemy. 

They leaned over your shoulder a bit and as you glanced to the side with wide eyes, you caught sight of another head of silvery-blue hair, cropped short like the boy in your arms. Red eyes gleamed cruelly from within the two holes of the black and white mask he wore, a hint of something unstable simmering right beneath the surface. 

“What a treat,” the man behind you said, voice lifting into a giggle that made your hair stand on end. “I had just run out of bodies to run my tests on.”

The storm was nigh. 

Dottore grimaced as the winds whipped around him wildly. Above him, the tall trees of the forest creaked and groaned, threatening to topple over beneath the harsh gusts. The sun had long set but his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, sweeping across the forest floor as he followed the path from Zapolyanry Palace to the estate he owned in the area, making his way to the ruins that were just off the path.

They had yet to find the Iota segment. Dottore knew that he was still in the area of the ruins he was exploring, he could sense that much from the inherent tracking system he had for each of the segments but they hadn’t reached the ruins yet. He wondered how Epsilon hadn’t been able to find him if he was in the ruins, unless he had wandered off and then made his way back when he realized that the sun had set and a storm was coming but something didn’t sit right with him about that. 

Either way, it was making Dottore antsy. He didn’t like it. The last time he had lost a segment, it had been a situation just like this a little over four hundred years ago. He felt unsettled.

“You found her.”

Epsilon’s voice didn’t even edge on accusing as he watched Dottore carefully. 

He had his answer, he just wanted a confirmation. 

Dottore did not intend on giving him one. 

“I did not.”

Epsilon let out a small puff of amusement, nothing short of a gibe, eyeing Dottore from the corner of his eye—he was the only one of the older segments that didn’t wear a mask, the few times he did was when he was posing as Dottore in Harbinger meetings or on missions that he didn’t want to handle. He could tell from his expression that he didn’t believe a word Dottore said, if anything he thought entertaining that Dottore was trying to deny it and that only made him even more irritated.

“We all felt it,” Epsilon murmured. “The others might not have figured out exactly what it was but I did. I’m sure Lambda did too. I advise you to choose wisely as to whether or not you would prefer him or I at your side when dealing with her. We both know his desired course of action and he will do whatever’s necessary to ensure that our research is not impeded.”

“As he was created for,” Dottore said coolly, “and thus is expected of him.”

“Even at the cost of the life of your soulmate?” Epsilon questioned, studying him intensely for a reaction.

Your. That was an intentional choice of words. All of the other segments referred to you as their soulmate as well. It was never Dottore’s soulmate, it was our soulmate. Even Epsilon had appealed to him in the past by stressing that it was not just his decision as your existence affected all of them.

This was an attempt at manipulation—a carefully picked choice of word that would ignite all of the possessive and selfish tendencies that had been ingrained in Dottore ever since he was living on his own after his village case him out, hoarding anything and everything he could get his hands on, and then again, after he had enrolled in the Akademiya, dealing with people leeching onto his research to try to get credit.

What’s his was his and you, unfortunately, fell under that category as much as he might loathe to admit it. 

“I can handle Lambda.” Was all Dottore said in response to Epsilon’s comment, dismissing his warning.

Epsilon made a noise as if he didn’t quite believe Dottore. Dottore didn’t acknowledge it. They continued on in silence for a few moments, the wind howling around them as they crossed the path into the old ruins of a temple of the previous Cryo Archon—crumbling towers reached high into the sky, disappearing into the clouds, and a massive derelict statue that was teetering dangerously in the wind. The snow had started to fall, they were running out of time to find the Iota segment but Epsilon didn’t look the slightest bit worried and Dottore frowned a bit, suspicion itching at the back of his mind.

“You should at least allow the younger segments to meet her,” Epsilon finally continued, completely unperturbed by the threat the storm posed to one of the younger segments. “They will be dysfunctional when they realize they never got the chance to meet her and then you will have three useless segments to figure out what to do with.”

“None of the segments will know that she is here, much less meet her,” Dottore said sharply. “I have information that needs to be obtained from her and then she is going back to Fontaine where she will stay, are we clear?” 

“So you admit that she is here,” Epsilon smiled thinly, as if that was exactly what he wanted to hear, and Dottore gave him a cold look.

“Enough of your games, Epsilon. What is it that you are trying to achieve with this conversation?” 

Epsilon didn’t respond. Instead, his red gaze trailed from him to somewhere behind Dottore. A sinking feeling in his stomach, Dottore turned around to see what he was looking at. Instantly, his eyes fell upon a familiar young boy standing right behind a pillar, watching them with wide eyes and a hopeful expression. 

Iota. 

“She’s here?” he whispered as if Dottore had just proclaimed the coming of the Celestial gods unto Teyvat, and then, more excited, he lit up: “She’s here?!”

Dottore realized, very quickly, that he might’ve just been played for a fool by his own segments. Without responding to the Iota segment, Dottore looked to the right where Epsilon was still standing. Epsilon barely acknowledged Dottore as he stepped forward with a small smile and upturned eyes. 

“There you are,” he said. “We’ve been looking for you.”

He did not sound particularly relieved or frustrated—if anything, he sounded pleased. Dottore watched as he patted Iota on the head once and then turned to look at Dottore, with an expression that edged at nothing short of triumphant. 

He remembered how Gamma had looked so nervous, unable to meet his eyes—he had thought it was because he was anxious over losing two of the younger segments but he realized, quickly, that it might’ve been because he was anxious about having to lie to Dottore. 

Iota had been waiting for them at the ruins and Dottore knew the young segment well enough to know that unless given direct orders (sometimes even when given direct orders), the boy would panic and wander trying to find his way back until he got himself so lost that Dottore would have to shut him down until they could figure out where he was and bring him back. Someone must have told him not to move from the ruins until they arrived, and that someone…

Dottore stared at Epsilon, catching the sly look in his eyes as he turned his gaze back to Dottore. Had he planned this? Had he schemed out a situation to get Dottore alone long enough to force him to admit that you were in the palace in front of the Iota segment? Would he really go so far as to put one of the younger segments at risk to do so? 

Yes, Dottore realized, watching the unmoved expression on Epsilon’s face as he watched Dottore realize what had just happened—he absolutely would because he knew that it was the only thing that Dottore would take seriously enough to handle himself, otherwise he would have just sent Epsilon alone to handle whatever it was. 

More than that, Epsilon knew that with the incoming storm and a missing young segment that the situation would remind him of the one that happened all of those years ago with the Beta Segment and Dottore would be in an uncomfortable and agitated state of mind, more susceptible to snapping and admitting what Epsilon wanted him to say. 

Conniving little-

Dottore’s tongue scraped against his teeth as he bit back a slew of curses, rage sweeping over him like the white water torrents of a rushing river.

Gods be damned about the war and needing as many spare hands as possible for his research, Dottore had half a mind to deactivate all of the segments and start anew once you were gone so he didn’t have to deal with any more insubordination and disrespect from himself. 

Though he found that the thought of you being gone in any way sat poorly in his chest. Livid, he realized that you might’ve already managed to strengthen the bond just through the two conversations he had with you. 

Teeth grinding together, he forced himself to turn on his heel and make his way back to the palace before anything else could go wrong with your unexpected arrival in Snezhnaya. He would get his segments out of Zapolyarny Palace and drag them back to the estate, leaving you at the mercy of the Regrator until he could finish his briefings with the segments and send them all far, far from Snezhnaya. 

You distinctly felt like a mouse cornered by a cat, except instead of being the one hunted by the predator, you were watching another mouse about to get devoured, knowing that you would be next. It was with a sickening type of engrossment that had you unable to draw your eyes from the scene in front of you, fear crawled up your spine, seeping into your blood, but your feet were rooted to the ground below you.

The man—who you noticed also looked particularly like Dottore, except he was closer to your age—had slunk past you to approach the two men at the opposite end of the hall. A part of you wanted to put the boy down and run back to your room, locking the door to hide from the shitshow about to go down but he was clutching at you like some sort of lifeline, little fingers gripping the cloth on the back of your dress as he hid his face from view. And even if he wasn’t, you had a feeling that your feet wouldn’t cooperate if you tried.

“Kappa,” an unfamiliar voice whispered from somewhere behind you, urgent and worried.

Your gaze snapped to the side, eyes falling upon another kid with silver blue curls and red eyes, a terrible burn scar covering the whole left side of his face. He was young, no older than fifteen or sixteen, and there was an anxious expression on his face, brows furrowed and lips pressed together as his eyes darted around.

Another child of Dottore’s? It didn’t make any sense, did he have three children? Or was the older one his brother? Or were they experiments? Your head hurt and you were suddenly very, very tired—you needed to lay down. The night’s events were finally catching up to you and your body was beginning to lag, crying in protest as you continued to stand rooted in the middle of the hall. Your room was so close but it was not close enough, you would have to get past the masked man to reach the door and you had a feeling he would not take kindly to your attempted escape.

And what had the other boy called the little one? Kappa? Why was that so familiar? 

You let out a shaky breath, trying to think.

Kappa, that was so familiar… one of the words from the old tongue? The ones that Dottore used to accidentally pass over to you? 

But was that even possible? You would have to check your notebook but you were pretty sure that the first time you received the word Kappa was right around the time you had received your first word from him and that was what? Eight years ago? 

There was no way this child was older than five.

What was going on?

“You-” the taller man choked out as the new arrival drew closer. “You’re-”

“You’re bold for attacking little Kappa right under our noses,” he mused, a lilt to his tone that had you on edge. He reached forward, snatching the man’s chin between two fingers as he forcibly craned his head to the left—examining him like some sort of test subject. “I’ve been trying to get Hearsays up and running again but I just don’t have enough contenders after the last incident… I suppose you’ll do well. Hehe, you’ll at least make for good entertainment, one way or another.”

You watched as he dragged his nails down his cheeks, leaning a line of blood in his wake before he turned his attention to the shorter man with a look in his eyes that was nothing short of gleeful.

“You simply won't do.” He clicked his tongue a few times in disappointment, shaking his head in a sharp and jerky motion that looked borderline painful. “I’ll just pass you off to one of the others for them to run some tests on. I think Rho is starting a new batch of experiments soon, yeah? Isn’t he, Gamma? Gamma?”

He was suddenly agitated as he glanced backward, waiting for a response. The other new arrival—the younger one with anxious eyes and twitching fingers—looked caught off guard at being pulled into the conversation.

Finally, he nodded, throat spasming as he swallowed. “With the residue, yes. The last batch failed.”

“Perfect,” he smiled sharply, and though you could only see half of his smile, even beneath the dim lighting you could see the rows of sharp teeth lining his mouth. “He can get the scraps.”

“Kappa, are you okay?” Gamma returned his attention to the boy in your arms, trying to grab his arm to look at him but every time he tried, Kappa shifted away, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Kappa, c’mon, he’s going to be so mad, just talk to me.”

“He’s okay, for the most part,” you said quietly.

At the sound of your voice, Gamma drew back, red eyes guarded and nervous. He looked at you as if you were a possible enemy, shoulders tense and body language closed off. He looked to be reaching for something at his side—you wondered if he was armed but his fingers were trembling. Even so, you decided to try to calm him down, not wanting another agitated person to deal with.

“What does that mean?” he asked, glancing between you and Kappa as if you had been the one to hurt the boy.

“His knees are cut up and bleeding, I was going to bring him to my room to clean them up. He was having trouble walking on them,” you explained, keeping your voice steady as you watched him carefully, trying to figure out how you would defend yourself while holding a kid in your arm.

But it was for no need, Gamma looked a bit at ease at your words but he frowned as he reached to hold Kappa’s leg to check out the wound but Kappa whimpered and snapped his leg away, accidentally jamming his knee into your side. You bit back a grunt, wincing at the small bony knee digging into your side but only rubbed his back, trying to soothe him.

Maybe his legs were worse than you thought. Concerned, you glanced down and briefly wondered why he wasn’t voicing his pain if that was the case. 

“One to ten?” Gamma suddenly asked, holding up his hands to show Kappa. The boy pressed his cheek against your shoulder, watching Gamma as he lifted two fingers, then three, then four, then five. At eight, Kappa pointed and Gamma looked severely distressed. 

“He’s going to be so mad.” Gamma looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Kappa, how many times have we told you that you have to say something when you’re hurt?”

He turned his face away again, pressing it into the crook of your neck and Gamma looked around nervously. “Well… he seems to like you. Kappa doesn’t really like anyone so I mean…”

Gamma suddenly floundered for words as you raised your hand to pat Kappa’s back again, red eyes focusing righting on your pinky finger. 

For a moment, he just stood there, gaping and wide eyed but then his expression shifted as he glanced over to where the masked man was still mocking and terrorizing the two aristocrats from the Skliar family. 

In an instant, Gamma looked like he was going to throw up, face pale and ghastly and you could only stare at him, trying to figure out what had caused the abrupt change in demeanor. 

You had a distinct feeling that it had to do with the presence of the masked man and that made your stomach churn with nerves, eyes darting over to him.

“Oh gods, you’re-” he began, voice catching over his words as he stared at you, taking a step back as if he was on the verge of fleeing. Then, his gaze darted up to the masked man he had arrived with, who you could feel staring at you from halfway down the hall, and then back to you with an expression nothing short of horrified. “Oh gods, oh no, Theta is-I have to-I have to get the Doctor. I have to-I’ll be back.”

And then he was gone, turning on his heel and sprinting down the hall, leaving you alone with the little boy called Kappa and the masked man who you could hear drawing closer to you from behind.

You felt like a frozen deer, body tense and cold as you felt the front of his body brush against the back of yours. He reached over your shoulder, long fingers wrapping around your wrist as he lifted your hand up.

You glanced back, eyes catching his for just a moment, and your throat dried at the look in his eyes—wild and unpredictable with a sort of untamable glee that reminded you of the Hydro Archon when she finally took interest in one of the court’s trials. 

And when she took interest in a trial, only one sentence would be exacted onto the defendant: execution. 

His face twisted into an unsettling and chilling smile, teeth glittering like knives beneath the candles that lit up the hall.

“You’re her.”

“Is he mad at me?”

The Iota segment had been on the verge of a meltdown the entire walk back to the palace. They had finally made it out of the forest and were crossing the snowy span of land to the bridge that led to the wide gates of Zapolyanry Palace. The weather was even worse now that there were no trees to buffer—the wind whipped around him violently, howling and shrieking, snow pelting his face like little icicles yet it was not enough to drown out the sniffles and cries of Iota as he wrapped his fingers around the back of Dottore’s shirt, clinging to him desperately as he tried to keep up with the man’s long strides. 

“Of course not,” Epsilon soothed, ever the conciliator as he tried to calm Iota down so the boy didn’t delay them anymore than he already had. 

“He won’t even look at me,” Iota cried. At once, Dottore turned to look over his shoulder, eyes landing sharply on Iota from beneath his mask, lips twisted down into a deep frown. Iota let out a cry akin to a wounded animal. “That’s even worse, I mess everything up, I’m sorry.”

Dottore’s head hurt. He grimaced as the wind nearly dragged his hood right down, tightening the drawstrings of his cloak. Distantly, he noticed that Epsilon was picking up Iota and letting the boy latch onto him as he cried but he tried to ignore it. Iota would get over it in a few hours, he always did—he was sensitive and broke down easily but bounced back before the day was up, burying his attention in some book or paper until he totally forgot about whatever set him off. 

As soon as they got back to the palace, he’d have Epsilon bring the boy down to the basement so he could nestle away in the library down there and then he’d be good as new, bustling to Dottore’s lab to bother him trying to tell him about all that he had learned in his readings. 

Besides the destructive tendencies, Iota was easy to handle for the most part. He was quickly upset but that was a product of the mentality he was created in and the reason for his creation, which he wasn’t supposed to know but the Zeta segment decided to open his mouth about it in an attempt to drive Iota into a meltdown to disrupt Delta’s research so he could pull ahead on it.

The Iota segment was created so that Dottore could do research into the Aranara of Sumeru—unfortunately, Dottore did not realize that the events of the night he was cast out of the village made him unable to see the Aranara anymore, thus making the Iota segment a useless creation. Dottore had debated on just destroying the segment and using the spare parts to create a new one but Delta had convinced him against it, claiming that he would use the failed segment as a means to help with his research instead. Ever since Iota found out about that a few decades ago, he’d been even more unstable than he already was from the mindset he was created in. 

“Enough, Iota,” Dottore said icily. “Have your meltdown on your own time.” 

Epsilon clicked his tongue as Iota caught himself over a sob, pressing his face into the man’s skin as if to hide his tears from Dottore. Epsilon gave Dottore an accusing look, Dottore raised his chin—this is on you.

Epsilon smiled to himself and then looked away, proud.

Again, he reconsidered deactivation, this time far more intensely, and again, Dottore cursed you because all of the misfortune he had faced the past two decades was solely because of your existence.

You, with your irritating attitude and despicable personality, playing the soft-spoken angel to everybody but him. 

You, with your exhausting persistence, meeting him toe-to-toe and word-for-word in every confrontation and conversation he had with you. 

You, with that infuriatingly striking purple dress—low-cut and thin strapped—that he hadn’t been able to draw his eyes off of the whole night no matter how hard he tried. He couldn’t help but wonder just how shameless Fontaine fashion was if that was what you wore to a formal event.

Purple. Nearly ten years and you were still obsessed with the same color. How were you so predictable and unpredictable at the same time? He couldn’t stand the thought of you, he hated unexpected, extraneous variables—the only course of action for dealing with them was removal or isolation and he was beginning to realize that neither of those solutions might be an option for him.

But it was just another hurdle for him to get over. If neither removal nor isolation were viable options, he would need to find a different solution. 

Holding it constant… 

No. That was not an option either—though the more he thought about it, the more tempting the option became. He had enjoyed that irritating attitude of yours and those biting comments that made his brain search for retaliation. He even more so enjoyed that taste of instability, which went against all of his ideals. Dottore was a man of careful calculations and obtaining expected results and yet somehow, when he found himself unable to predict your next words and actions, it left him excited. 

How could one hate the unexpected and yet enjoy it in the same hand? Unless it was not the unexpected, it was you bringing it to him. Dottore’s head throbbed, he felt like a pendulum, swinging back and forth and back and forth and back and forth as he tried to figure out how he felt in relation to you so he could decide upon the best course of action for dealing with you. 

How bothersome. Already, he could feel things shifting—something he had sworn he wouldn’t let happen.

Not for the first time, he felt absurdly jealous of his own segment; Epsilon, who could understand emotions far better than the rest of them ever would be able to and used it against them very often. He wondered if the man already knew what Dottore was feeling—if the smirk on his lips had anything to say about it, Dottore thought he probably did. 

What do you have planned? Dottore wanted to ask Epsilon because he knew that there was some underlying game going on that Dottore couldn’t place yet but he didn’t want to dive into that conversation while Iota was still on the brink of self-destruction, crying and sniffling and choking over his own sobs. 

Dottore thought he might trust Epsilon the least out of all of the segments. Unlike Lambda, whose goals and ambitions were as clear as crystal, Epsilon was an enigma, driven by emotions that the rest of them couldn’t understand. He liked to play games with them, push buttons that they didn’t even know that they had, and your presence in Zapolyanry Palace was a large, bright red one that Dottore just couldn’t seem to destroy.

So long as you were around, Dottore would be at the mercy of Epsilon’s unwelcome schemes and he had a distinct feeling that Epsilon would be playing at trying to make the bond between the two of you stronger. He would have to work to counter it without even knowing the game.

Bothersome. This was all bothersome. Dottore hated games. He hated dealing with his segments. He hated being vulnerable. He hated all of this. 

All of it? Dottore pushed away the treacherous thought furiously. 

“Is that-” Epsilon began but abruptly cut himself off as he moved forward to walk at Dottore’s side, peering ahead carefully through the wicked storm.

Following his gaze, Dottore looked out across the bridge leading to the palace to see a small figure sprinting in their direction—no cloak or covering, only wearing a thin outfit to shield against the sheer cold of the bitter winter storm.

“Gamma,” Dottore murmured in agreement. 

He could feel the anxiety rippling from the boy in waves—anxiety and fear. It didn’t take much to push Gamma into a panic attack but this was different. Dottore could feel it. It wasn’t like the usual ones he experienced. Brows furrowing, he watched as Gamma approached them, eyes wild and cheeks bright red. 

Instantly, Dottore felt uncomfortable, realizing something was very, very wrong. 

“Theta is with her,” Gamma wheezed, doubling over as he tried to catch his breath. He seemed as if he had been crying—a cold feeling, unrelated to the wind and snow around them, settled over him, sinking into his stomach. “You have to get him, he’ll hurt her, he’s in one of his moods. You know what he’s like when he’s in one of them. He’s dangerous and violent. You have to do something.”

“Who is he with?” Dottore asked slowly.

He stared down at Gamma as he waited for a response but deep down, he very much already knew who Theta was with and an old and unwelcome emotion spread throughout him, freezing his bones and blood, weighing on his chest like stones. An emotion that he had long learned to suppress, one that he hadn’t experienced since his days at the Akademiya when they had him placed on trial—he could barely recognize it, it was hard for him to put a name to it until Gamma opened his mouth again. 

“Her,” Gamma gasped. “Our soulmate.”

Fear. The emotion was fear. 

rbs appreciated!!

[yaksha-lover]

Hey! How are you doing? I don’t know how dark you’re willing to go, but the angst brainrot is back and I guess I just need somewhere to ramble.

Sometimes I like to think about how the prefect’s super chill reactions to… well everything, could just be a carefully crafted facade. I mean, the students at NRC are kinda awful people, and I don’t doubt any weakness would be swarmed like vultures to a fresh corpse. And a magicless, naive person like Yuu would be an extremely easy target. So, instead they just bury all the pain and pretend everything is okay. They’re not crying for their family and home late into the night.

The way that kind of repression would just build up over the year and slowly cause resentment towards everyone, deserved or not, is just delicious. Pretending to be everyone’s friend, to be the kind and welcoming prefect while coming to hate the other students’ guts. The eventual snap after one misplaced comment or one more mess to deal with, when the house of cards all falls down.

Maybe Rollo was right.

Idk, just got a lot of thoughts. Mainly based off of how Rook calls the prefect “Trickster” and the prologue almost framed Yuu in a strategist role. Thoughts?

Honestly, it would make a lot of sense. As much as we love the boys, most of them would be pretty terrible to be around and are very selfish and/or mean (with some exceptions, but that’s still a good majority of the school).

I like the idea that Yuu does start out genuinely wanting to help everyone and find people to be friends with, to try and make this experience of being trapped in another world even somewhat bearable.

At first it’s okay that Ace is a jerk sometimes, because he comes around once you get to know him. It’s fine that Riddle nitpicks and punishes the three of you because in the end, he’s trying his best to get better, to heal from his past. It’s alright that Leona is unrepentant and mean, because he has things he’s been dealing with, and you need to be understanding of his pain. Even when Azul tricks your friends and later you, when you almost lose your Ramshackle, the one place you’ve had to call home, you try to have patience, because he’s got his own issues as well, he has his reasons for things.

But somewhere along the way, you’ve stopped caring for their excuses. Their trauma is real, but so is yours. Even after everything you’ve done to try and help them, you don’t doubt for a moment that none of them would run to your rescue. That they wouldn’t take any opportunity to step on and over you if it meant getting closer to their goals. Because at the end of the day, none of them cared, no matter how much you wanted to believe it wasn’t true.

Breaking down isn’t an option - not when everyone is out for themselves, when your feelings would surely only be ridiculed at best and taken advantage of at worst. Even more than that, you’re a guest at this school. You never earned your way here like the other students and you’re magicless; the only reason you’re even here are extenuating circumstances. The headmage isn’t any more loyal than the housewardens - if any of them had a problem with you, it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine he’d throw you out onto the street the second you became an inconvenience that was too much work to handle. So you keep quiet, even when all you want is to tell off everyone around you.

The only housewarden to ever seem to really give a damn about you is Vil, but by the time you get close with him, it’s already too late. Maybe if you met him first, if you’d been less scorned, you could’ve forgiven his little digs at your lacklustre presence and imperfection. He’d done much to try and make up for it after all, helping you out with Ramshackle and voicing his appreciation for you. It was more than you could say for anyone else, but it still isn’t enough. Vil’s sweetness can’t counteract the bitter taste that’s been brewing for months, so you can’t bring yourself to forgive him despite everything.

It’s not his fault, but it’s never anyone’s fault. It’s all of them, chipping away at your sanity little by little.

It’s okay that you can never fall asleep anymore, kept awake by memories of never ending fights and catastrophes to deal with. It’s okay that the same people you’ve helped barely regard you as more than something worth pitying. It’s okay that you’re reminded every day that no effort is being put towards getting you away from this hellhole and back home.

It’s all okay, until it’s not. Until Yuu finally reaches their breaking point, and starts to question if anyone is truly worth saving at this school.

[elisysd]

The List – Maisie Peters

Masterlist - Previously - Next Chapter

So can you talk? You know I'm stacking up Until the night I'm not enough And you're just someone else I disappoint

Monaco was becoming bearable to Lyanna. She wouldn’t say that she liked the city, but she was warming up to it. There was something special in its air. In the span of three weeks, she managed to make two new friends. Charles obviously, she was starting to see him as a friend more than an acquaintance, and Kika. They instantly clicked during the dinner at Charles’. They had so many things in common. They both loved fashion, old movies that no one knew about, and random facts about animals. They were both career oriented and pretty independent. They quickly exchanged their phone numbers and promised each other to stay in touch and to organize something if they both landed to be in the same place at the same time.

As for Pierre, she didn’t have much time to get to know him. Truth be told, he was intimidating to Lyanna. He had such a big persona. The way he carried himself with such confidence was something she admired. If only she could be a little more like that. But she knew that she could learn to be his friend, at some point. After all, they had a huge common point, as they were both French. Obviously, this brought them closer.

Lyanna also admired Kika and Pierre’s relationship. They were like two sides of the same coin. They were laughing at the same things, finishing each other sentences and had the exact same look on their faces whenever they were looking at each other. It was cute. When she shared her thoughts with Kika, the young woman had admitted that it was not that easy at the beginning. She got a lot of hate because of the age gap between them. She felt alone but Pierre had never given up on her. He could have, it could have been easier. The hate was strong and she knew that it had also been a difficult time from the Frenchman. But in the end the experience had only strengthened their feelings for each other. Somehow, she was glad that it happened this way. Now it was okay, she was still receiving nasty comments from time to time, but it was easier to manage.

Naturally Kika had asked to Lyanna if she had someone special in her life, to what the actress had confessed that she didn’t have the time to date. She wanted to focus on her career, that was the most important thing to her. She had been single for three years now, and she was fine with it. She was still learning to appreciate her own company.

“My last relationship ended up with my heart shattered in pieces and a psychotherapy that is still ongoing. I don’t want to go through that again. I’m fine with me being alone. It’s not as bad as people make it out to be.”

“Yeah obviously. But still, wouldn’t you like to have someone you know you’re going home to?” asked Kika.

“I don’t even know what home is. I’m always away. I’m renting an apartment in London that I barely occupy; you know. I’m living more in my suitcases than in my place. And it’s fine, I chose it. I don’t regret it.”

“As cliché as it’s going to sound, sometime home is where the heart is.” Kika murmured, her head naturally turning to Pierre.

That night, Lyanna fell asleep with a smile on her face. It had not happened for a long time.

The days passed again. Lyanna had started filming and it was going relatively well. A little better than she had expected. David continued to behave like a total moron and some of his remarks towards Lyanna were inappropriate, but the young woman didn't pay much attention to them. She knew how to put him in his place when he needed to be put in his place, and even if this sometimes weighed on her, it did not make the atmosphere on the set intolerable. But she was wary anyway, she couldn't shake off that sick feeling in her stomach every time she met his eyes when the cameras were off. 

But after a few weeks of working almost non-stop she finally had a break. She was not needed for the next three days and she was looking forward to a good sleep and doing nothing. On her way back she met Charles who was heading back from his evening run. Naturally, she asked him if he wanted to hang out, she had become accustomed to the presence of the driver in her life.

“Since you're free tomorrow, would you like to come with me so I can show you the most beautiful view of Monaco?” He offered her.

She accepted with great pleasure. However, what the Monegasque failed to mention was that he would be knocking on her door at dawn the next day.

“I knew you would have said no if I had told you that I would wake you up at 6am but trust me you won’t regret it.” He excused himself.

“Just like you oh so conveniently forgot to mention that we would have to walk. I hate exercising Charles!”

He just laughed while she tried to find in her bags and closet something appropriate for a hike. Once ready to go they headed to the underground parking lot to take Charles’ car. When they were both ready to go, Charles took a banana, a carton of juice and a croissant out of his backpack. No way was she going to walk on an empty stomach, he told her. The last thing he wanted was to have to walk back carrying her because she had a hypoglycemic episode.

“You would deserve that Leclerc. You woke me up to make me walk I don’t know for how long; you deserve all my grumpiness.” She told him.

And indeed, how grumpy she was. She decided to complain all the way. At some point Charles suspected that it was more to annoy him and tease him than real complains. For almost two hours they walked along the small footpath. Charles was ahead of Lyanna and had to stop often to check that the young woman was following him and had not turned back. When Lyanna wasn't stopping regularly to catch her breath, she was admiring the speed and ease with which Charles was moving.

Soon enough they finally reached their destination and Lyanna’s breath was taken away.

“Welcome to La Tête de Chien, the place where you can have the best view of Monaco” murmured Charles.

From where they were, they overlooked Monaco. They could see the Marina and its yachts and the mountains in the distance. The sun was not yet high in the sky and the air was breathable, so Lyanna understood better why Charles had insisted that they go there so early. There was something peaceful about this place.

“It’s absolutely beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here.” Lyanna said in awe.

Charles smiled gently and his hands in his pockets he approached the edge of the path and sat down on the small wall, motioning Lyanna to do the same. She looked like a little kid to him, trying to see everything all at once and absorbing every little detail.

“I want to stay here forever.”

Charles felt a sense of pride but didn’t mention it. There was something really beautiful about watching Lyanna truly appreciate Monaco for the first time and he didn’t want to break the magic of the moment. Instead he took his phone out and took a picture of the view before posting it as a story on Instagram. He also took a picture of is friend while she was not looking. He wanted to keep a trace of the instant.

Lyanna decided to do the same. It was time to announce that she was shooting a new movie and what better way to do it than by showing this beautiful view. A story with a quick caption would be enough, she didn’t need to do more. The marketing team of the movie would be a better job than her but still, she liked to keep people up to date with what she was working on.

What they both did not know at the moment and did not expect was that two simple stories would make everything go downhill.

Twenty-four hours after the hike, Lyanna received an unexpected call from her agent. Sophie never called her when she was shooting a movie and when her name popped out on Lyanna’s phone, she immediately knew that something was wrong.

“Do I have to sit for what you’re about to announce me?”

“Lya, good to hear you. And no, I don’t think so. But we have a B type problem on the way.”

A B type problem meant that it was related to Lyanna’s private life and that it was still under control. It was more like rumors and it didn’t involve the press. Yet. In that case it was a A type problem and signified that Lyanna’s privacy was going to be deeply impacted and turned into a shitshow. But still, B type was not good.

“What happened?” She asked.

“Do you by any chance, know the Ferrari racing driver Charles Leclerc?”

“How did you…”

“Someone on Twitter that is following both of you on Instagram pointed out that you posted the same landscapes at almost the same time. You can easily imagine wat they are deducing.”

Lyanna gulped. She didn’t imagine that something like that could happen. It was naive from her; she knew Charles was popular and she was too. Statistically, it was bound to happen that they would have followers in common.

“We are not dating, if it’s what you’re implying. We’re friends. He’s my neighbor actually, there’s nothing going on between us.” Justified Lyanna.

“You do what you want with who you want Lyanna, my job is not to monitor you. I’m just saying that for now it’s rumors, but you how fast things can escalate, I’m not going to teach you that. You do wat you want from this information. I’m just saying that he has a huge fanbase, he draws a lot of attention from the media, I checked him online. And I know how you feel about being involved with people like that.”

Another mistake that Lyanna did was that she never checked is social media presence. She should have, she could have but she never thought about it. She was not a social media person; it never crossed her mind to search Charles on Instagram or on Twitter or anywhere to be honest. She quickly typed his name on the Instagram search bar and almost choked when she saw the number of ten million followers. That was almost as much as her with her twelve million.

“Oh shit.”

“What do you want to do?”

She hesitated. A huge part of her valued er relationship with Charles. It made her feel good, she felt herself with him. Not Lyanna Michel, the actress, but just Lyanna. And it had been such a long time since that happened. But another part of her, smaller but more vicious could not help but reminder what happened the last time she was involved with someone famous and how it turned her life upside down and not in the good sense of the term.

From Charles’ end, it’s his little brother Arthur who taught him the rumor by texting him.

You didn’t tell me that you were involved with Carla’s favorite actress.

What do you mean??

Check Twitter.

And Charles did. And Charles first thought was, what did he do in a past life to be involved in two dating rumors in the span of a few weeks? His second thought was directed to Lyanna. He tried to call her but he went straight on her voicemail. He insisted two, three time but no answer. He texted her but no answers as well. He then went to her place. He knocked and waited but still, no answers. He insisted on knocking louder but nothing changed. And e knew she was there, he could hear noise from inside. She was shutting him out. And it made him upset.

“Lyanna, open the door. I know you’re in there.”

Still nothing but if she wanted to be stubborn, so was Charles. Two could play that game.

“I won’t leave until you open this door. I will knock and knock again until you talk to me. I know you saw Twitter. We have to talk about it Lyanna.”

Finally she opened. A little, just a crack but enough for Charles to slip through the gap left by the opening. And then she was there, observing him, not saying one thing. It was like all the progress he made with her; all the trust that took a little time be built vanished. All of his work reduced to nothing. She was acting like a scaredy cat. She didn’t say a word to him.

“We’re friends Lyanna. Don’t shut me out.” He began.

“You are more famous than what I thought.”

Charles didn’t understand what she meant by that and how it was a problem.

“I’m still Charles. Famous or not. I didn’t change between yesterday and today.”

“You’re drawing attention. People have expectations. People are talking.”

She was rambling and on the verge of a panic attack. Naturally Charles made a move toward her but was surprised when she backed down.

“Lyanna, it’s not because that we are both under the public eye that we can’t be friends. We are human and human have friends.”

“I don’t want famous ones. I want my peace and quiet. Going out with you was a mistake. Posting on social media was a beginner mistake. Now, people are making up stuff.”

“I don’t care about what people think.”

“I do care!” She yelled. “I do care about my privacy being displayed online as entertainment, I will care when the press sees that as an opportunity to twist the truth and creates a story that I have no control over.”

“You can’t always control everything. You have to trust people. You have to trust me. We are both impacted here. I don’t care about the rumors; I only care about the truth and both you and I know it. And it’s enough. I won’t hide Lyanna. I’m free to do whatever the hell I want to do, no matter what people think. You should do the same, you have to. This is why you accepted to play Sally, right?”

“Well excuse me, but in the equation, I never thought to add going out with a celebrity.”

“Stop giving me that celebrity image Lyanna! I never thought of myself as such nor did I ever think of you the same way!” He snapped. “And I could have. But I didn’t because it’s not fair. I know you and…”

“That’s the thing Charles.” She cut him “You think you know me, but you don’t. We have known each other for what, three maybe four weeks. You can’t pretend to know me. Just like I can’t pretend that I know you.”

“Let me get to know you then. Let me know why you’re acting this way, let me know why you’re so scared that you don’t let me come near you! I want to Lyanna. But you don’t let me.”

“Maybe because I don’t want to! Maybe because if I told you all the twisted things I have been through, you would not understand and then you would leave me alone.”

“Don’t make this decision for me. Let me understand.”

“And for what? People leave when someone baggage is too heavy. And then what will I have left? Nothing. I won’t take that risk.”

“You’re not being fair. You have you own demons to face, I get that and I want to be there for you. But I won’t if you don’t help me understand. I can’t be a good friend then.”

“You would not understand Charles! Why are you so stubborn?”

The conversation was starting to be heated. Both of them refusing to meet halfway.

“You are scared and you’re acting as a coward Lyanna. I don’t know what you went through but you can’t let past events dictate youre life and your choices.”

“As if you knew something about hard times Charles! You grew up here, in a privileged world. You live the perfect life. You are not going to make me believe that you know something about traumas. You don’t know what it means to lose people.”

That hurt Charles more than anything. Scared to say something that he would regret and because they were not both in any state to have a real and appeased conversation, he decided to leave. He looked at her one last time before closing the door.

========

taglist - if you want to be added let me know @zendayabelova @purplephantomwolf @ru-kru @dakotali

[themadlu]

What Is It In You I Cannot See?

Astarion fails to sneak on Zelie, but somehow he still ends up with a full belly. Nothing asked of him. He is scared of her and angry at her at the same time. He is also happy. He is in uncharted territory. He doesn't understand if she'll be his salvation or his doom.

He also hates dogs.

TW: references to past SA (nothing graphic), mentions of animal cruelty (if him wanting to eat Scratch counts).

This is a oneshot from a longer fic idea. Zelie is my named Tav OC, but here there is no physical description, aside from eye colour.

Tagging @spacebarbarianweird because she's so talented and kind!

“Remind me again, darling, what are we doing in these godsforsaken woods?” 

Astarion had woken up…happy—with a full stomach (He had forgotten what that felt like) and a clear head (He can hear the stern cadence of her sweet, precious blood being pumped through her heart). 

His restless reverie made bearable by the life essence he took last night. 

No, not took. He was too pathetically weak even for the basic functions of a vampire. It was a gift.

This is a gift—I won’t forget it.

He said as much, head tilted towards her, looking, but not seeing; he couldn’t bear to actually stare at the person he was indebted to now. 

She doesn’t call it debt. There are enough ill-guided, wretched ideas floating in that head of hers, all about justice and fairness and respect, that she hasn’t asked anything in return for her donation.

Yet. 

She will. If he thinks too long about it, it terrifies him.

No one hands their life blood over to anyone (to a monster) without a sizeable payback in mind. Either that, or he’ll have to start believing all her ideals (Her actions) are not an elaborate set of masks to trick him into trust (She’d be more idiotic than he thought, in that case).

Still, her confounding attitude worked in his favour. Not only he wasn’t left to starve the night before (a novelty in and of itself), but he’ll get future access to his dinner for the foreseeable future. 

She said so (“You can feed on me again, IF you swear you won’t hurt others and stick to animals when I’m not around”). Her face carved in stone, unmovable as she always is when establishing her rules. Her boundaries.

(No one ever cared for his boundaries. An object of pleasure doesn't need any.)

But she looked at him like he would actually understand, as if the concept couldn’t be so foreign to him. Something in the world shifted.

Truth be told, you were my first. 

Something changes in her eyes too and her expression softens, but doesn’t relent. 

“Let’s keep me as the only for now. If you wish to tell the others and any of them are willing to donate their blood too, then you can expand your culinary options.”

What?

He knows she didn’t spill his secret to their companions (Gods forbid, someone as noble as their leader did that), but he assumed she would push him to reveal himself. Why wouldn’t she? She made such a fuss about how wrong lying is, and honesty this and fuck him that, and now she is willfully withholding information from the rest of the group. 

Why?

You nearly got us killed at the Grove. Couldn’t keep your little mouth shut with that useless healer about the tadpoles. Foolish idiot, you’ll be our doom. 

Was it a test? See what the hungry spawn does and punish him if he makes a mistake? 

Astarion has an inkling of what she would like him to do, because it tends to be the total opposite of what he would do. He would continue their little arrangement in private, for as long as possible. He may have been a slave for centuries, but he’s not so daft. Why would a vampire willingly oust himself to a group that includes a literal monster hunter in their midst. 

It would be suicidal and he has wished for death more times he can recount—often masked as sensual whimpers and pleas in brothels and alleys—but he doesn’t wish it now. 

He won’t let a presumptuous, sheltered human kill him with her righteousness when decades of torture didn’t. 

Not now he’s finally out of his grasp. 

Not now he can exist in the sun. 

Not now that he’s stuck in the mud chatting to a mutt. 

Wait, what?

The scene in front of him is dreamlike: their stoic leader is knee deep in the dirt, shiny eyes coaxing a clearly aggressive dog closer, Karlach talking to it as if it were worthy of conversation.

Zélie stares at the mutt as if in a trance. Astarion asks her why they were in the woods in the first place to see if the dog isn’t actually a hypnotising hag.

The mutt snarls at him and he snarls back. Filthy beast.

“Hush, Astarion!” Zélie whispers, “he’s scared. You’ll only scare him more”

He takes notice of the corpse near the dog. Clearly dead. Filthy and stupid beast. 

“Sweet thing you are, worrying about it,” he coos.

Hells below, you idiot. 

“But may I remind you we are trying to get to a den of vicious goblins to find the blasted druid who can fix our wiggly issue?” 

He points at his temple and she gives him the look. They’ve been travelling together for no more than a tenday and he already earned a signature look from her. 

All piercing, hardened eyes and the disapproving tilt of the head a mother would give to her child before a good dressing down. 

He wonders what his punishment will be, and his scars burn, his hands shake. 

He quickly fists them behind his back to hide the tremors (A broken toy is worthless), strikes a casual figure, and something in her gaze mellows. Before it could have stricken down a dragon from the skies, now it would only manage a bear. 

It certainly won’t manage a vampire. 

He scowls at her, but her attention is already back on the mutt now within arm’s reach. 

“You know, Astarion,” she murmurs, petting its fur with a care that had to be an act (Tenderness has no place in any realm), “dogs are beautiful creatures. They feel as much as us.” 

Another stroke behind its ears, soft and barely there. Astarion’s own ears twitch.  

“They accept our love, our mistakes, our pain, and still stay by our side. Sometimes they even see past our cruelty, so strong is their loyalty. I think you won’t find a more worthy companion.”

Another caress on its muzzle. The hint at complete loyalty to another would normally tear through him ('Remember thou art mine, useless boy'), but Astarion is transfixed by her hands on white fur (Would they touch his own white hair like that?) and his fangs are dangerously close to peeking through his lips. 

(Two centuries of utter shit, but the mutt runs across her bare moments after his owner’s died.)

If I was alone, I’d bleed you dry. Animals only, so she said.

Fucking dog befriended, Astarion is ripped from his thoughts as Zélie stops her ministrations and stands up. She bows her head at—

“Scratch. Meet Astarion. Astarion, meet Scratch.”

The dog eyes him for a moment, then barks. Astarion almost hisses back. It’s his dear leader standing in front of him that stops him. 

“I know he may look slightly ruffled, Scratch, but I like to think that you can trust him.” 

Excuse me?!

She cannot speak with animals, so why the hells is she making polite conversation with it?!

“And you,” eyes on his, he hates how he has to prove that he can hold her look without squirming. She has the gaze of someone used to having a certain level of authority, and it disgusts him. His hands tremble more, nails now digging in his palms.

('You're nothing but a scared, little boy'). 

The others have moved further along the path, but she whispers it nonetheless, “When I say you should feed on animals, this is clearly not what I mean. Dogs are out of your food chain. Please, Astarion”

He doesn’t remember when it was the last time anyone ever said please to him, when someone kept a secret for him, and it’s enough to shock him into compliance. 

“Thank you,” she says, a little smile on her thin lips (it looks foreign on her stone-like face).

She heads along the path without realising what she’s done. As if people handed thank yous around like nothing. He’s seen her thanking others, occasionally: Gale for his food, Shadowheart for the healing, even Lae’zel for not disembowelling a tiefling  (How disappointing). But to him? 

(He hasn’t done anything, besides taking her blood and her temporary alliance)

He kills and maims what enemies they encounter because he revels in the violence. In the control over another’s life—in not him being the pitiful wretch for once. If she thinks he’s doing it out of some sense of morality, then she’s even more idiotic than he thought. 

She could simply be a pathetic moron with a noble soul. One who follows her way even when she doesn’t want to. Even when they do her more harm than good (Shouting a speech on interracial cooperation from a high rock to stop a vicious group of goblins and humans from killing each other was a terrible idea. Surprisingly, she only got scraps from all the arrows flying at her). 

No. She isn’t. No one is like that.

Phantom touches on his body remind him of this shit world every second of every day and they will do so for as long as he lives. They all have their motives. She just hides hers beside a very put-together mask. An impressive one, if he can say so. 

He falls into step with her as usual (Because he needs to make sure she doesn’t drag them to an unwilling death, because he needs to keep himself in her good graces now she knows his secret) and she acknowledges him with a nod. 

The smile is still there—odd. She looks a moment away from giggling, a sound that he didn't think her mouth could form. 

Now he needs to know. 

“Copper for your thoughts, darling?” he drawls. 

What’s going on in that confusing head of yours?

“I just thought—when Scratch said he’d join us at camp. I pictured Withers and him,” a corner of her mouth lifts, “playing catch. ‘Cometh here, oh chosen canine, and followeth thy ball along its rightful path.’”

  

Her eyes tear up from contained laughter (Have they always been so blue? He just realises one is more of a grey colour), then she coughs a little and her entire face resettles on its usual assessing expression. 

"You're a bad influence, Astarion. I don't usually tease my elders, especially not millennia-old ones."

Astarion blinks (So she does have a sense of humour, even if it’s terrible).

He finds himself leaning into her, testing the boundaries. His sultry voice in her ear. "Darling, as your elder, you can tease me all you like. You have my permission." He is rewarded not with a whimper of excitement, but with the look again.

He finds himself suppressing a stray giggle and his hands stop shaking.  

[zilabee]

Zilabee i love your blog very much, every time you post I get incredibly excited you're so knowledgable about those four randy scouse gits, but I'm trying to get into the book side of the Beatles and I know there are many posts out there to help with that, but I want to know personally, what do you think are the best Beatles books? Not by popularity or the best author, what are your favourite Beatles books you would recommend to people to read? I know you're a Paul girl (which aren't we all at heart? cause even if he isn't your fave he's your faves fave, so by association we're all Paul girls), but please don't worry about favouritism again this is an ask of your fave Beatles books

anon! thank you for nice words; apologies for being so slow

it's hard to recommend people things, I'm not deeply inside the capability of it, and most beatles books, like the beatles themselves, are basically awful

the books on my beatles shelf that I feel most fondly towards aren't about beatles, they're about Tara Browne and Robert Fraser

i want desperately to recommend the books by Maureen Cleave and Iris Caldwell but they never wrote them so I can't, so don't read those

i really like dakota days by john green. that's probably embarrassing to be the first book I can think of that I like but there we go. I think I went in with very low expectations, so that probably helped and I've ruined that for you by saying it's good. it's about john with yoko, not all the beatles, and as with all john books, the author is very 'actually I knew John well, I really got him...' which is what all men do, but then instead of 'we shared this amazing connection! he TRULY LOVED ME!!' he's more 'he was just really fucked up and desperate to be loved' which is not what most men do, so I liked that. Also he storifies it all, which keeps you a bit detached from how heartbreakingly sad it all is if it's remotely true.

i loved the longest cocktail party by richard delillo. I thought it captured apple beautifully, and it's very much of it's time, which is also the beatles's time, so it's very much of the beatles even if they're not often there. it was written in 1970 and it does cover the total death of all happiness, but obviously only from a very close perspective, and he'd left by then and everyone disappeared, so instead of pretending to know things he doesn't, he just drifts into newspaper headlines and reports, and it works really well for a person like me who finds the endings very difficult

i think one of the very first beatles books I read was here, there, and everywhere, by geoff emerick and I have a lot of remembering it being good while now not really remembering it, but i do like books by people who were actually trying to work while the beatles were around, rather than trying to wank all over them, because there is a suitable level of frustration with them, which makes it all feel a bit more bearable. you do have to put up with how much he hates george, but we have to put up with a lot of things

as time goes by, by derek taylor, is very good if you don't mind that derek taylor is living his life in inverted commas and I'm only recommending you books about the terrible aching sadness of the end, sorry. I love the way it's written though, I love the way it's felt, I love how much he hates Paul in 1968... but then as he says, many of the people he likes most are absolutely terrible, and he means brian, but it's true of all of them and I just really like that he feels it

everyone recommends it I know it's not new, but michael braun wrote the beatles's progress and that is very good and earlier and brighter than a lot of what I've mentioned. and it's short! which I think is important in beatles books too, because it means people aren't trying to fill pages. apart from the cocktail party all of these are quite short.

actually that's probably my main advice when you're trying to decide to read beatles books:

pick short ones to start with

pick ones written by people who worked with/for them

pick your favourite era and start there

and you don't have to care whether it's 'trusted' or 'reliable' or whatever, care about whether you enjoy it, and then pick over the bones of the biases later

i have read some of the big full biographies, but they're kind of boring, trying to tell you everything when they don't actually know anything and they weren't there. tumblr's better for that. also they sort of pretend not to have an opinion, which is both a lie and a boredom, because opinions are the best thing. books by people who knew them DEFINITELY have opinions and you get to judge them.

I liked pete best's book more than I thought I would, I just read it the other week. I can't remember a lot about alistair taylor's book now, but I remember enjoying it, specially to get more sense of brian, and brian's autobiography is written by derek taylor so it snips along. either of george martin's books is nice and quick. chris salewicz wrote the best biography of paul mccartney and it fits in your pocket. cynthia and may are both good.

[trixie-troubleby]

Can I send a prompt?

Basically, Sportacus is sensitive to barometric changes (shift in air pressure changed by weather fronts) and it starts affecting him really bad. To the point he's basically a vegetable and wants to do nothing but curl up in a ball until the pain stops (am I projecting? You'll never know). It starts in his joints and ends up as a huge migraine. It passes when the rain starts. (It could be slow building, or very sudden. Depending on what sort of story you want.)

The kids are really worried and Robbie has to come and comfort the children then take care of Sportie until it passes.

And can it be pre relationship where Robbie still pretends to hate everyone?

Sorry this took so long! Hope it’s alright!

He felt it coming on at the worst time. He wrote off the earlier stiffness in his joints as just not enough stretching. That had been a mistake. He stumbled back, feeling the persistant throbbing behind his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to catch his breath. He had checked the weather… the storm wasn’t supposed to be coming for another few days. He heard a ball whiz past his head. And he blinked his eyes open, knowing all eyes would be on him.

“Sportacus, are you okay?” Stephanie was by his side in an instant, a frown on her face.

Sportacus nodded, opening his mouth but unable to find his voice. He was hit by a wave of vertigo and fell to his knees. This was worse than usual. Although he always thought that. He never remembered how bad it all could get. Distantly he heard someone scream. He heard the kids arguing over what to do.

“We don’t even know where they are and we need help!” Trixie said.

“Sportacus? What’s wrong? What can we do?” Stephanie asked from his side.

“Migra–“

“We should go–“ Stingy started.

They were all cut off by Ziggy shouting at the top of his lungs. “Robbie! We need your help!”

Sportacus’ eyes opened. Not fully focused on anything. He wondered what Ziggy thought would happen. He flinched as the throbbing behind his eyes briefly turned sharper. He tried to catch his breath, leaning forward and pressing his torso to his knees. It wasn’t his best form, but the yoga pose usually helped to quell his nausea for a bit.

“What did you do to him?” Robbie asked, voice somewhere between concerned and impressed. “If you want help hiding the body, I’m not gonna do it.” Sportacus let out a short laugh through the pain.

”Sportacus is in trouble and we don’t know what to do.” Ziggy said, going towards the villain. “He just fell down and he seems to be hurt–“

“He said something about migra?” Stephanie said. “Do you know anything about that?”

“Migraine?” Robbie asked looking towards the hero.

“Bad one.” Sportacus managed to get out.

“Alright. Well…” He bit his lip, looking conflicted for a moment. “What’ll you do if I help?”

“Robbie!” The kids all shouted. Sportacus could’ve laughed again. Trust the villain to make the pain a little more bearable.

“Fine, fine! We’ll discuss my terms of payment later.” He said. He walked over and squatted by the elf. “I’ve got ibuprofen in my lair. Or I could try to get you back in your ship.” Robbie offered, voice low.

“Your lair is closer.” Sportacus said, voice low and strained.

Robbie nodded. He moved to scoop up the hero, none of the grace that Sportacus portrayed when their positions were reversed, but an impressive feat by itself.

“Okay brats, I’m gonna go get him some medicine. He’ll be fine tomorrow. Go back to your game.” Robbie insisted, walking back towards his pipe, Sportacus in his arms.

When they got to the lair, Robbie set him down on his favorite chair. Sportacus curled up in it as Robbie reclined it for him. “I’ll go get the ibuprofen and some water.” The villain said, walking away. Already the change in scenery offered him some relief. The lair was darker and cooler and much quieter. The migraine was far from gone, but it was a bit less painful.

Robbie returned with a glass of water and a bottle of generic pain medication. “You should probably take two.” He said, handing him the bottle. “But it’s your decision.”

“Thank you.” Sportacus said, putting the glass on the side table and opening the bottle.

“I’ve got noise cancelling headphones if you think that’ll help.” Robbie offered. Sportacus shook his head, not in the mood to try and situate the headphones over his ears without taking off his hat. “Does this… happen often?”

“Before storms.” Sportacus responded. “When it starts, the migraine will go away. Just until then…”

Robbie nodded in sympathy. “The storm got pushed off it’s track to hit us sooner.” Robbie looked away from the elf. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

“The shelter, medicine and water are already more than I should ask you for.” Sportacus swallowed. “You’re being very nice.”

Robbie bristled. “Well– the brats wouldn’t have shut up.” He mumbled defensively. “And I’m sure they’ll think up a nice reward.”

Sportacus smiled through the pressing pain. “Thank you regardless.” He curled into a ball as a wave of nausea hit him.

Robbie looked away. “Well… you should try to sleep it off. Alright? The storm’ll be here before too long and I’ll be nice enough to let you stay till then.”

“Thank you.” Sportacus yawned, letting his eyes fall shut, a small relief in everything. A short amount of time passed and then he felt a blanket being draped over him. Then there was a soft press of lips on his forehead. The pain started to subside and distantly Sportacus could hear thunder and the sound of rain hitting the roof. He smiled and let the noises carry him to sleep.

[fieldofdaisiies]

I bloody love your azriel jealousy or angst ones so can you please write a fic about az getting jealous of you and Rhys hanging out and vibing a lot because u both used to be exes. But like please don't make it a happy ending...I'm in for a roller coaster of emotions 😅

Of course <33 I hope you like how it turned out.

Azriel x Reader | I Was Never Enough

type: angst  warnings: angry and sad Az, curse words, vulgar language word count: 1004 words

*all rights reserved*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your hand was braced on Rhysand’s thigh while you were cackling with laughter. The High Lord was similarly amused by what you had just been talking about. He was chortling quietly, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. The atmosphere in the room was peaceful, warm and homely.

It all changed when a door fell shut with a loud peng.

There was one person not in the mood to laugh and that was your partner who had heard your cackling probably even upstairs om the training pitch— the window of Rhysand‘s office was open so it was possible.

Just a moment after one door had been slammed shut the door to said High Lord’s office was ripped open.

“What the fuck?” the spymaster furiously expressed, his face veiled in sinister darkness and agony. Your head snapped up and so did Rhys’ when you both looked at Azriel. He was all darkness and pain.

“What’s going on, Az?” the High Lord questioned with a raise of his brow.

“What the fuck is going on? Maybe you two are going on. Doing only the Mother knows what behind my back. Are you kidding me?”

All happy feelings were washed away like they had been erased from the room. Cold settled in, stretched out, made your stomach churn and your whole body shiver.

“Az, there is nothing going on. We were just talking about the—“ “The what? How you could best fuck behind my back.”

It was a statement not a question. A statement that hurt you so damn much. “Azriel, that’s absolutely not—“ “How could you?!”

From the moment on you started dating Azriel had always had trust issues—he was terribly territorial and jealous. You had learned to live with it, never giving him a reason for jealousy. But there was this huge problem with Rhysand being your ex. Your past relationship with the High Lord had always been a thorn in the flesh of Azriel.

As much as he had tried to trust you he had always gotten suspicious when the two of you had spent time alone. And now, Azriel thought, he had caught you right in the act of betrayal. 

Azriel's nostrils flared, his jaw clenched once again. He took a step closer to you and Rhys. “Did you touch her? Did kiss? Or worse fuck? Tell me!”

”Az–"

"You bastard,” Azriel spat at the High Lord. 

Rhys growled, not allowing anyone to talk to him like that. But before the two of the could throw hands you decided to step in. You stood, surrounding the couch and walking over to Azriel. “Come on, let’s discuss this outside.” You gave no room for protest, already tugging on Azriel’s sleeve to make him move. Azriel groaned lowly but followed. 

You were facing each other in the corridor, standing opposite to each other. Your partner was still fuming, his jaw clenched, fingers curled towards his palms. 

“I was never enough for you,” Azriel breathed.

You tried to reach for his hands. “Az, you know that is not true.”

“It fucking is!” His face turned angry again, his voice getting louder. You hated when people shouted at you. And you hated when he shouted at you. Azriel never got louder. Now he did and it broke your heart. “Az, please. Please, listen to me.”

“Oh spare me with your bullshit. I know exactly what you have been doing behind my back.” “Az, we were not doing anything. I love you—“ “You do not! I cannot do this any longer.” You couldn’t either. It was too much. I had gotten too much. His jealousy was not bearable any more. You had to put a line under your relationship, it was draining you of energy and no longer made you happy.

“Neither can I,” you said and shook your head. Taking a step back you leaned against the wall across from Azriel. “It is best if we end this. I can no longer stand your constant jealousy. I do nothing and you freak out.” Azriel was shaking his head at that point, his lashes dampening. “It hurts so much what you say makes sense. I also no longer can do this. What you are doing is too much.” That hurt you—it hurt you that he did not take the blame on himself and rather made it about you again. That he could not longer be with you.

“What you are doing is too much!” you shouted, pushing Azriel back by a shoving his chest.

“You are robbing me of air to breathe. I feel like I am constantly under water. You are caging me in without even noticing. It is over between us. We were never good for each other and I realised this way too late.” With one last glance over your shoulder, you left Azriel standing in the corridor. His shoulders were hunched, his face crumbing when regret stretched out between the two of you. What you had said cut deep, but breaking up, ending what you had, was the best. You weren’t good for each other any longer. Your own heart shattered into a million pieces when you slammed the door shut and descended the dreadful staircase of the house of wind. It was over and it was enough. It had been enough for so long.

It had also been the last time that you and Azriel had spoken.

tags: @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbitxh @cityofidek @moony-thoughts @wrensical003

[goodoldfashionedengineer]

Pains, Doubts and Friends

This one-shot is about @anglerflsh 's OC Wik and takes place in @sergeantsporks 's Gilded Family AU post-canon. If you are unfamiliar with them, I would recommend checking them out! Both very cool people with very cool AU's

Word count: 1848

William slowly started to wake up when a mild pain in his left leg registered in his mind. Out of reflex, he brought his knee up to his upper body to make it more bearable. His right hand didn’t seem to stick and panic rushed through him at the sight of the green goop. Wide-eyed he opened the drawer of the nightstand with his good hand, momentarily shutting out the pain coming from his leg. His hand trembled as he grabbed the nearest elixir. He opened it with his mouth and gulped it all down. 

Only then the overall exhaustion came to notice. Great, it was going to be one of those days. Begrudgingly, he sank into his pillows. Even though it was pretty early in the morning, most of the residents should be up already. Maybe he should just try to go back to sleep until later so not as many would have to see his face. 

In the end, he decided to continue to read the “Owner’s Manual” Jason got back from the human realm. He was always interested in how humans found solutions to their problems without magic, especially the modern ones, which really was a thorn in Belos’ eyes looking back on it. A smile appeared on his face as he turned to the next page to find a post-it note which read, “Tried to recreate this part, but it blew up. Maybe you can help me next time? -Jason".

After some time, his door opened slowly while Hunter’s head was poking out. Upon making eye contact, Hunter finally stepped fully into the room. “Oh, good. You’re awake. I was wondering where you were at breakfast.”

“Don’t worry about me, I already a-” Wik interrupted his sentence-”Actually, I didn’t go because my leg hurt.”

Half-Lies. They were still lies, ‘but a step forward nonetheless’. 

“Oh, do you want me to bring you something?” Hunter asked. 

He just wanted to brush it off and say no. But he really did feel terrible in every fiber of his body. ‘You can always ask for help, kid.’

“Fine, you can fetch me some food if you really want to.”

Surprisingly, Hunter smiled. “I’ll be quick!” And with that, he left the room.

Hunter stayed true to his promise and came back with two slices of toast with roarberry jam and a bowl of fruit salad. William had become too predictable. 

Hunter moved around the bed to sit in the office chair at his desk, watching Wik. “Thank you, Hunter. You can leave now. You don’t have to worry about me”, he groaned. 

The other bit his under lip and turned his head away. “I’m just worried about you, I guess. You haven’t made any friends.”

“I’m used to it and I don’t miss the lack of them. But you have some and I am sure they will be more than happy to spend time with you, so why don’t you pay them a visit?”, he said immediately. 

Hunter looked at him again, “It’s not just that! To me, it looks like you are avoiding everyone! You stay in your room most of the time while you should be out there and- and- I don’t know! See the Boiling Isles! Gush with Luz, Guz and Eda about human things! Do what you want to do! Nobody is controlling you anymore.”

Wik made a face. “You know that Luz still hates me after breaking her trust? She probably can't even look at me. And I do talk with Sam from time to time! And Jason gave me this book!” 

“Luz doesn’t hate that easily. She forgave me even though I was being a jerk. You just have to talk things through. Besides, how much do you know about Sam and Jason? How much have you tried to get to know them? How much do they know about you?” Worry painted Hunter’s face. His concern seemed genuine. How can he trust people so easily?

“Look, I know what I want and it isn’t friendship.” Nobody would want to be friends with him. 

Hunter stood up from his chair, slowly moving towards the door. He faced William one last time and said, “That’s what I thought, too. But once people gave me the chance, once I got the chance, my opinion changed. Friendship is something beautiful and I think you should try it. See you.” Following that, he left.

Hunter’s words left William with questions. Who would even want to be friends with him? He didn’t even like most people he knew, he simply tolerated them. Phoenix did try to make a conversation a few times and Wik knew that he knew Phoenix at one point but these days, he is just another stranger. Luz is out of the question. Even if she ‘forgave’ him, she just was too naive in his view. 

Anyone in this house is clearly out of the question too. His small curse sign on his cheek was enough to bring Chryses into a panic attack and he startled Cherry because he stood on the wrong side the one time he did seek out conversation with someone. And there were many side eyes during the first weeks, which the others didn’t think he would notice.

He didn’t mind it this way. Wik liked being by himself and knew how to entertain oneself. Forming relationships was never easy, the few times when people wanted to know him better. There is always the feeling of mistrust and even then, he didn’t know what to say. 

Suddenly, the door opened again. The figure came in without knocking, closing the door behind him and immediately stepping towards Wik. “I heard you are experiencing pain?”, Auric asked, pretty recognizable due to the heavy scarring on his throat. He also had a tablet with him, which he placed onto the nightstand. 

“This is a painkiller,” he handed William a small vial, “And this is an ointment. I’ll leave this one here, use it every night before going to bed.” He pointed to a jar which he placed directly onto the nightstand. 

Closely he eyed the vial. It didn’t have the same sparkles from the sleeping nettles as the last painkiller he got when he first arrived here. Auric questioned his observation, “It’s not poisoned if you think that.”

“Then why is that one different to that one I got previously?” Wik narrowed his eyes. Auric rolled his eyes with a grin. “Of course you would notice this. The painkiller you got last time was a very potent one with sleeping nettles and dreamsbane. Because the pain comes from an old, healed injury, I figured you don’t need a strong one. It’s the one I use on a regular basis, if that matters.” 

William narrowed his eyes even further. Auric chuckled, “Most Grimwalkers react the same when they first arrive here. Mistrustful, in denial, thinking everyone is out to get them. You are like this too. You’re not different from the others despite being made from a different person. You want to know why?”

Wik looked skeptically up to him. “Because you are your own person,” Auric said, “So don’t be afraid to ask questions no matter the issue. If you are interested in something, ask. If you want something, ask. If you just don’t want to be lonely, just ask. I would have preferred it if you had asked for me directly when you are in pain. There is no need to suffer in this house.”

The words registered in William’s brain. It was hard to believe. Engaging in fantasy might let him down. But he didn’t think that the painkiller was going to kill him anymore, so he drank it. 

As soon as it was empty, Auric took the vial from him and asked, “Are you planning on leaving your bed today?” 

Wik didn’t look up and just shrugged. “Because if you’re not, I would do some exercises with you to strengthen your joints and muscles in that leg,” Auric said.

William sank into his pillows again, “Okay then. Fine by me.” Auric reached his hands towards his leg, before he pulled away, “Permission to Touch?” “No, just tell me what to do.”

Auric sighed, “It would be more efficient if you would let me help you the first time. I won’t force you, but you know my advice.” “Still no,” Wik answered.

Auric raised his eyebrows, “Okay, your decision. What you are gonna do is raise your leg as high as you can and hold it for ten seconds. Then you slowly put it down. Repeat that nine more times after.”

Wik followed suit and put his leg up. “Higher. Use your hands for extra help,” Auric said. Wik rolled his eyes and did just that. “Still not high enough. It doesn’t need to be super high but it should be a bit more.”

Annoyed, William groaned, “Fine! You do it!" “Permission to touch, then?” “Yes, now start so you will leave me alone.”

Carefully, Auric took a hold of his leg and slowly moved it up. Wik clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. “Are you okay? We can stop if you want,” Auric asked. “I’m not weak! I can endure this, so just continue.”

Wik removed any signs of discomfort off his face and let Auric do the work. The stretching didn't hurt as much due to the painkiller but he knew he wouldn’t enjoy doing this exercise by himself in the future. However, after it was done his leg did feel more relaxed, so it might be worth considering doing this more often.

Auric stood up, “We are done. Do whatever you want. Just be aware that if we don’t see you again tomorrow, someone will look after you. Other than that, have a good day!” And with that, he too left the room.

He stared at the door for a while, expecting someone else to come through. When nobody came, he picked up his book again. 

Wik read the same paragraph three times. He just couldn’t concentrate. Too many questions with no real answers were crossing his mind. It frustrated him, as he was much more rational and logical usually. They could talk about this easily, they all had connections. Hunter even had friends before he ran away.

The closest he had ever gotten to a person while he was in the coven was Belos, who was just a big liar and traitor. He also had many pleasant talks with Lilith Clawthorne about history. Her museum exhibits were interesting too. 

An idea came to mind. He pulled out his scroll and opened Penstagram. It was a silly thought. She probably didn’t even have Penstagram. 

He typed her name anyway. An account named ‘Chilly.Lily’ came as a top result. The witch on the profile picture did match how she looked during the Collector’s reign. Unsure, he scrolled through her profile and left a few accidental likes here and there.

William hoovered over the ‘Follow’ button. Frantically he looked around before quickly pressing it.

This meant nothing.

[dramatic-squirrel]

Daminette December Day 19- Hands

@maribat-calendar-events

They stood side by side, neither talking in the oppressively, haughty atmosphere. At that moment, Marinette hated Jagged more than words could describe. He forced her to attend this event knowing full well it wasn’t who she was. There was no one she knew besides Jagged and Penny, no common interests with the millionaires and billionaires that roamed around and worst of all, the pastries and finger foods weren’t even good. If you’re the richest person in the world, the least you could do was get decent food for your party.

The only brightside to the situation was that she wasn’t entirely alone in her discomfort. The downside to this was that her companion in misery had an aura of ‘if you talk to me I will gut you’, making him hard to approach. Instead, they ended up occupying the same corner of the banquet hall in an attempt to avoid other people. At least that was the intention, but it seemed like Marinette was truly the odd one out as a group of people approached where the boy was standing.

“Damian! So this is where you were hiding.” A tall man with black hair and blue eyes walked up to the boy. “I don’t know why you insist on running off the second these things start but it’s more bearable if you just stick with us.” The boy, Damian, looked away, a sneer on his face, but not saying a word.

The arrival of these new six people made Marinette feel more uncomfortable. It was bad enough that she had been standing silently next to a stranger for at least half an hour by that point. But now, she felt like she was intruding upon the group, despite being in that corner first. So she attempted to leave, quietly as possible, but she didn’t get far. Whether it was her simple presence or the fact that she moved, all of their attention shifted to her immediately. Stiff, she smiled and waved in greeting, before attempting, unsuccessfully, to leave again.

“Pardon us, Miss. We didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation with our brother.” The first man spoke. 

 “No, it’s ok. I was just hanging out here for a bit.” she fiddled with her fingers, trying to look anywhere else. “You didn’t interrupt anything so I’ll just be on my way, Monsieur…” She waited for a name or introduction. What she got was the stunned expressions of everyone there, except for Damian.

 A man with a white steak in his hair was the first to respond. “Oh my god. She doesn’t know.”

“Jason!” A blond girl hit his arm. “Don’t ruin this!” She hit his arm again for good measure. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it Steph,” he threw his arm around the girl before gesturing towards Marinette. “She’s a rare species, got to protect the endangered wildlife.” Feeling thoroughly weirded out, Marinette established that, while they were more interesting company, they were also the kind of company that would lead to unspeakable trouble if she hung around for too long. 

Glaring at Jason and Steph, the other man finally decided to introduce themselves. “I’m Dick. The people here are Jason, Tim, Stephanie, Cass, Duke, and Damian who you’ve met.” He pointed to each person in turn. 

“Oh, sorry, again, I was just hanging out. Trying to get away from the crowds over here. I didn’t really… I mean I don’t know…” She gave up trying to explain or escape. “I’m Marinette. Nice to meet you.” And just gave in to whatever was happening now.

“How are you enjoying yourself so far?” Dick asked. 

At the question, Marinette went stiff as she tried to come up with the nicest way of saying it sucked. “Well… the venue is beautifully decorated.” It was the only thing, not a lie, that she could say about the party. With her answer came a chorus of muffled laughter from everyone, even Damian, who she assumed was the most stoic of the bunch, cracked a smile. The tension in her shoulders eased a bit. 

“Oh yeah, she fits right in. Actually she’s more polite than any of us.” It was Tim who spoke this time. “I can see why Demon Spawn likes her.” The comment made the blood rush to her face, while Damian attempted to tackle Tim. 

“What are you talking about Tim?” Dick asked. 

Tim tried to answer but it was difficult when he was simultaneously fighting for his life. “I can’t… believe your… a… detective,” he finally pushed Damian off. “Jesus Christ Dick, get better deduction skills.” Discomfort filled the air once again as they calmed down and Marinette just stared at the group. 

Jason punched Tim, “Nice going, Timbo. Way to ruin the atmosphere.” Just as things became unbearable, music began to fill the hall and Dick started ushering his siblings away, leaving Damian and Marinette alone once again.

“Excuse my brother, he wasn’t raised.” Damian spoke up first. “You don’t need to pay attention to anything he says, half the time he speaks utter incoherence from sleep deprivation.”

Marinette nodded to show her understanding. After a moment she spoke up. “I… Would you like to dance?” She wasn’t sure what she was thinking, if she was thinking at all.

Damian paused to consider her offer. “I suppose dancing would be more entertaining than standing next to a wall all evening.” He held out a hand to her. 

When she placed her hand into his, a feeling of unexpected warmth radiated from his hand.  She also noticed how it was scarred and calloused, rough from some type of physical labor. Not at all what she was expecting, but comforting nonetheless.

When they reached the edge of the dance floor, a slow song began to play and not knowing how to formally dance, they gently swayed side to side in beat with the music. “Um… just so we’re clear on this…” Marinette gathered her courage. “I don’t really mind if what Tim said was true.” Then her fear overtook her again. “Or not! I mean, either way, doesn’t make a difference, really.” her eyes flittered to anywhere other than Damian’s eyes.

Damian raised an eyebrow at her contradictory interlude, but otherwise didn’t speak, and they lapsed into silence. The song was almost over and Marinette couldn’t help but think about what if. For years she had a crush on Adrien and never confessed, only to lose any chance. Now that she was over him, why shouldn’t she take a new chance? 

The warmth from his hand gave her courage once again. Looking Damian in the eyes, she said what was really on her mind. “You seem like a really nice person and I was wondering if you’d like to get a cup of coffee with me sometime before I leave for France.” she didn’t pause for breath. “Of course if you don’t want to, that's fine too. I just figured there’s no harm in asking.”

This time it was Damian who couldn’t look her in the eyes as he replied. “I think I would like that. Your company is… enjoyable.” 

A big smile appeared on her face as the song ended. “Great! It’s a date then.”

[bugwolfsstuff]

Dionysus-centric W.I.P

A/N: Writing this I have discovered that I fucking hate writing in first person. But it is bearable cus I am switching Pov's and I fucking love this fic trope

On a related note I will be delving into Dio's Demigod Days trauma in this one and that for this i am following this verion of the myth:

Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 3. 28 (trans. Aldrich) (Greek mythographer C2nd A.D.) :

"Hermes took him [the infant Dionysos] to Ino and Athamas, and persuaded them to bring him up as a girl. Incensed, Hera inflicted madness on them, so that Athamas stalked and slew his elder son Learkhos on the conviction that he was a deer, while Ino threw Melikertes into a basin of boiling water, and then, carrying both the basin and the corpse of the boy, she jumped to the bottom of the sea. As for Zeus, he escaped Hera's anger by changing Dionysos into a baby goat

Only we're going to ignore the part of the myth where Hermes takes him to nymphs after that and that he ended up just wandering around at 8 years old.

Chiron: Just a quiet day in Camp Half-Blood....I wish.

It was quiet at Camp Half-Blood. 

That alone should have been my first hint that something was about to go very wrong.

It was the afternoon, Apollo was midway through his daily drive in his sun chariot. Campers were peacefully going about their scheduled activities, and Mr. D hadn't turned anyone into a dolphin.

I was at the archery range instructing the Hephaestus cabin: Issac had actually hit the target and not my back, Shane hadn't gotten into an argument with Kayla Knowles from the Apollo Cabin, and Harley had refrained from shooting his siblings (A very big achievement for him. He will be getting extra dessert at dinner.) Everything was going smoothly.

Of course, in Camp Half-Blood, even the smallest moments of peace never last long.

I was speaking to the head counsellors, Jake and Nyssa, at that moment about adding proper safety measures to their workshop in cabin nine (despite what some believe, we do have some safety standards at camp, just not very high ones) when suddenly the chatter around us got very quiet.

The unusual hush that fell over the children made me pause mid-sentence. Hephaestus's children were usually quiet like their father, yes, but not to this degree, especially not when they're talking about machinery.

I turned to see what silenced them.

"Good evening, Lady Hebe," I said calmly.

"Hello, Chiron," She replied.

As the goddess of youth, Hebe preferred to take the form of a young woman. Today, however, she looked like a little girl with blonde pigtails, and if I didn't know better, I would say she was around seven or eight. 

She was holding a gym bag almost as big as she was—that was also moving. I don't think gym equipment does that.

She was also smiling.

Which didn't bring me any peace of mind.

"Me and Dio got into a little argument." She said, looking up at me.

Of course he did. Why does that not surprise me in the slightest? I, of course, did not verbalize my thoughts. That'd be blasphemy....However true it is. 

Instead, I smiled and said, "Ah, sorry to hear that. What kind of argument did you have? If you don't mind me asking."

The fact that she was telling me this scares me. Gods can be dangerous when angered, especially when another god is the one to anger them. If Hebe was angry at Dionysus, then she might take it out on someone he cares about.

Someone like Pollux.

"Well, it's a funny story, really." Hebe's 'innocent' smile persisted as she started swinging the gym bag gently back and forth by the straps. Whatever was inside the bag did not appreciate this movement and started to move even more fiercely, like it was trying to escape. 

"Dio had said some extremely offensive words to me about youth, and I simply couldn't let that slide. So, I decided to teach him a lesson about the value of youth."

Campers had started to gather around us.

My eyes flickered toward the gym bag, and a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. Whatever was inside, it seemed sentient and determined to escape.

Hebe's eyes swivelled around to look at the other campers, her grin widening. She twirled the bag straps in her hand, pulling the bag upwards before tipping it upside down.

"What I didn't account for was how whiney he was. So then I thought, hmm, where was the best place where he could learn to appreciate youth? Nowhere else but summer camp!"

The pit in my stomach settled as my eyes focused on the bag.

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

:)

[asktriggerhappyhavoc]

your thoughts on byakuya everyone?

Don’t even get me started on that guy!! He’s so mean for like no reason!!! He makes me so mad!!!! - 🫧

Togami and I have what I like to call a respectful rivalry. We don’t particularly like each other, but we appreciate each others abilities. - 👑

Togami tends to make me kind of sad. He’s so hateful. I can’t imagine being happy with that kind of attitude about other people… - 👾

Mr. Togami is a classic “spoiled brat” trope. The best thing to do is to ignore them! - 📖

They’re really rude, but they’re willing to let me dress them up. We end up having fun when that happens! - 💖

Togami’s behavior toward their classmates to completely unacceptable! He’s received multiple detention for verbal harassment. - 🎖️

… I’m not fond of him. - 🔎

I guess he’s fine. He’s just super annoying. As long as you keep them talking about themself, they’re pretty bearable. - 🎸

I don’t really like talking bad about people. I’ll just opt out of this one… - 🍀

He really thinks he’s untouchable, which is fucking hilarious to me. Sakura, Hina, Taka, and I could destroy him with a piece of paper. - 💎

Rude. - 🐇

I do not believe this is the place to share hostile feelings… - 🌸

They’re definitely really mean, but I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that they’re not as one-dimensional as everybody thinks. - 🌟

We have a pretty… awkward history. We really don’t get along. - 🖋️

I keep trying to get into stuff he likes, but it’s no good! It’s like he hates me more than anyone else! What did I ever do to them?! Breath in their general direction??!! - ⏳

[slimbunnx]

Twisted Love by Anna Huang semi review

This book was recommend by an old classmate of mine, i was friends with her so of course I decided to buy and read it. And errrr not my favorite. I'd give it a solid 3/10. Spoilers ahead ig

I like to think my opinion matters... but I'm just a highschooler. My qualification r that I've been through many fandoms, which means I've read many fanfics via Wattpad, AO3, Tumblr, and.... Quotev. And I'm an avid reader since the 4th grade.

To start off, the book felt very... Wattpady, I hated the conflict, how the character act, writing style and uhhh those scenes.

First the conflict, I don't know what to say. The plot twist of it being Micheal was okay I guess. With like better character development, I feel like the plot twist could rlly be a plot twist, but it kinda fell flat. For Alex's uncle. errr ummm I didn't like it. I rlly had to put my book down for a min to think about it. Like I could see the vision.

The character had me twisting and turning. I'm sorry But Alex is so insufferable. Like he's a stalker, which is supposed to seem romantic but it's not. Like the way he kept calling her his, even though they weren't together at the time, and even then WHAT. Also him being so overprotective bordered on toxic. Like sorry for the poor dude who only wanted a photo shoot at the beginning of the book. Alex has issues, and ur significant other cannot help u heal those issues. Which I think is a big problem with his character. He will always be hurt and if anything a weirdo for some how depending on Ava for emotional stability. Like homeboy u r not okay, GO TO THERAPY INSTEAD OF DOING THE TOOGY WOOGY. Also he seems to be the typical "man", like I remember somewhere that to write a good male character, you need to give them a trait that isn't masculine, bc no man is completely masculine. And he reminds me so much of those Wattpad billionaire protagonist, its not even funny. Also THE SINGING.

Ava character was better. She got her shit together by the end of the book. Also the sequence of her trying to get over her fear of water, felt boring but necessary for the story. She's bearable. But like during the conflict part, she is god damn too emotional in my opinion. She was unbearable to read during that saga. In my opinion I think the author glossed over like Micheal, her and Joshes uhhh confrontation thingy. Like we could have good sibling relationship. Honestly I applaud Ava for staying that positive. Also how her relationship with Alex hurting MORE than her "dad" WILD. Like girl u've known this man since ur birth, even though he was distance, he still acted like a father figure. But y'know to each their own. Umm I don't feel like talking about the other characters.

The writing style was meh. But I guess that's too expect when u buy a book from Walmart. It wasn't as smooth nor was it as pleasant to read, at the beginning it was fine then towards the end uhhh not as much.

For those scene... it may just be me reading this like literally at school. But I did not enjoy it. But I guess that might just be me not enjoying sex in my books. But on dirt and in another persons dinning room is a bit too far. Like do you not have shame. Also during the scene where she's wet and trying to get like birthday cake. Alex's uhhh thoughts were def something. This may seem offensive but, it some points it felt like Alex was talking like a male author writing a female character.

Anyways I expect to have a better read with twisted games, since he (Rhys) doesn't seem to be crazy like the other males in this series. And it just occurred to me I might not be the target audience... but I truly do love romance book.

[areuils]

Cql songs tier list - I have never studied music theory and can barely put together a coherent thought about music on a good day. Only the songs that I actually enjoyed would rank nicely on the whole mdzs song tier list because cql has a lot of songs and a lot of them I don’t care for.

曲尽陈情 - The Ending Melody of Chenqing

Where are the bird sounds? This song is predominantly about Wei Wuxian whilst having enough about Lan Wangji that you know he’s gay and longing.

孤城 - Lonely Town

Chen Zhuoxuan is the star of the song and is so nice here. Good instrumentals and the flow of the song is good.

疏林如有诉 - Woodlands

Instrumentals are so good in this and Gao Qiuzi has such a powerful voice and it just works really nicely together. This and 孤城 can switch spots anytime but I listened to this one after so positionally, it’s lower but spiritually they’re the same spot.

无羁 - Unrestrained

I’m biased towards this song but it sounds nice even if it’s a bit slow for my tastes. You can really tell Xiao Zhan is a better singer than Wang Yibo during this time but Yibo’s voice is still nice.

多很生 - Duo Hen Sheng (they didn’t even give the pinyin for this why)

This is the last song I listened to for this and it’s a good note to end on. Zhu Xingjue sounds so good and the lyrics flow really nice with the nice melody. This starts the songs I would actually listen to in a playlist.

最是少年不可欺 - Never Bully the Young

Quite possibly one of the funniest song titles. Strong vocals, song’s entertaining, not enough for me to actually listen to it outside this but it’s higher than middling. Also isn’t Wang Yibo like younger than the people singing this during filming lol.

清河决 - Qinghe Jue

In which a powerful voice saves you from being middling enough to be lower than me being biased towards Lan Wangji. Also I wish Lan Xichen’s song was like this. Maybe I’ll even watch Fatal Journey one day (doubt).

不忘 - Indelibility

My problem with Lan Wangji songs is that they’re mostly about Wei Wuxian and his longing rather than defining his own character. I like the instrumental break. Not slow enough for me to hate it and I can’t put a Lan Wangji song that low anyways (he’s my favourite cabbage).

赤子 - Utter Innocence

This song is only below Lan Wangji’s because Lan Wangji is my favourite cabbage. Otherwise it’d be above it. Nothing that makes me hate it but nothing that makes me put it higher either.

恨别 - Parting

This and Never See You Again is like equally placed and their position depends entirely on how I am feeling because both songs only get better during the latter half. Higher now because I have listened to Wang Zhoucheng sing other stuff and his voice is enjoyable in the other stuff I listened to.

咏隔 - Never See You Again

This got to escape bottom tier because it actually picks up in the second half and becomes bearable to listen to. Down so low because the first half is horrid for me.

荒城渡 - No One Knows

If it was .25x faster, it would not be down here but alas I do not care for songs on the slower side.

不由 - Can’t Help

This song is so slow, which would normally mean it’s pure bottom tier, but I like Liu Haikuan’s voice and the instrumentals. Too much longing for Lan Xichen but fits the CQL version of him.

意难平 - Hard to Let Go

This song is slow, boring, and about a character you’d have to pay me to care further about outside of she exists. Also no offence to Yin Lin but I don’t like her singing voice.

[captainadwen]

finally finished project hail mary. the last few chapters got really, really good. like, can’t put it down good.

unfortunately it took 400 pages before it got that good

[slasherhaven]

Ok so regarding the 50 kiss types prompt list im not entirely sure if youd write for RZ Michael Myers bUT i got a feeling he'd suit number 12 on the list DHJSSD (also i love your writing sm pls its what i always look forward to at the end of a busy day <<33) and best of luck with your exams!! I bet you'll do swell!! :D

Prompt 12: Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

With Michael Myers:

It hadn't been completely your idea to end up in Smiths Grove. To get help? Sure, you were all for it, but Smiths Grove had a bit of a reputation so you weren't thrilled when you were emitted. You never would have guessed that the thing that would make this place bearable would be the infamous Michael Myers.

You also would have never guessed that the two of you would ever hit it off, that you would somehow be the only person Michael allowed near him, to know him. You didn't question it anymore, you just accepted it and were thankful for it.

You didn't mind spending time in the common rooms, while Michael seemed to hate it. Still, Michael hadn't done anything to justify excluding him from any of the social rooms. That meant the two of you could sit together, even if it was in silence, before being sent back off to your rooms.

As the two of you sat at the back of the room, you making most of the conversation in a hushed voice to keep your talk private, the sound of shouting and clashing grabbed your attention. Michael tensed as the two of you turned to see what the trouble was.

A fight had broken out between two of the patients, nothing too out of the ordinary, drawing the attention of the few security guards in the room.

Noticing that the doorway had been left unguarded and unwatched, you chewed on the inside of your cheek, an idea popping into your head. Looking back at Michael, you got his attention and nodded towards the unmanned door, not saying a word as you stood and quietly approached it.

You managed to slip out of the room unnoticed, the fight maintaining all the attention in the room. Michael was following behind you silently, you knew he would, but you hadn't even realised how close he was until large hands grabbed you and spun you around to face him.

A quiet gasp slipped pass your lips, only to grin when you saw Michael looming over you. It was rare that the two of you got moments alone, normally having to sneak them in and rely on random distractions to share any level of intimacy.

But right now, the two of you were alone in the corridor as you planned on taking full advantage until somebody came walking by.

Before you knew it, you were pressed up against the cool wall behind you, strong hands and arms keeping you steady as you tightened your hold around his shoulders. Michael's kisses were always an experience for you, they had started needy but unpractised and even uncertain but now they were strong, forceful as the man knew what he wanted. You loved it. You loved how it felt to be wrapped up in his arms, so easily moved to Michael's will, but most of all you loved that you were the only who got to experience Michael Myers like this.

You were so caught up in Michael, the way his lips bruised yours and the way his body pressed against your own, you barely heard the approaching footsteps until a small commotion broke out.

Suddenly on the defensive, Michael snapped back as a new pair of hands wrapped around your arms. With only a little struggle from you and Michael, the guards had managed to pull you away from each other. Seemingly unbothered by their rough treatment of him, Michael glared down at the guard that were holding on to you.

"It's alright, Michael" you practically cooed in an attempt to soothe him. You were sure he would be in enough trouble after this, you didn't need him to get into more trouble for lashing out at security. "I'll see you later" you promised as the guards gave him a tug, knowing they couldn't move him unless he allowed it.

You glanced down the corridor at the sound of new footsteps, seeing Doctor Loomis approaching. He squinted curiously at you as he came to stand in front of you both, but you only rolled your eyes at him. Maybe if they tried treating Michael like a human rather than a monster, they would make similar progress to you.

Returning your attention to Michael, you noticed how tense he was, how hard his glare was as he assessed you. "It's alright, Michael" you repeated, assuring him you were alright. He watched you for a moment longer before allowing the guard to escort him away, you watching his frame disappear around a corner.

Loomis looked you up and down as he walked past you, following behind the guards, likely to have an impromptu session with Michael. You had a feeling he would be wanting a word with you too, though right now you were being escorted back to your room.