#i am sorta scared that certain habits might come back

[quicksilver-daydreams]

womp womp

[moss-flesh]

28, 29, and 35 for the super detailed asks for Aila? 💖

THANKS VIPER !! these r so good n they rlly got me thinkin

28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?

She likes to think that shes not scared of anything anymore, ofc a creepy cave or ruin irks her but shes pretty confident she has no real fears after everything shes seen. but thats only because she seems to refuse to acknowledge (until a certain point) that her biggest fear is losing her friends and where she might be if she didnt have them. sometimes she has nightmares of her being unable to save them and them dying but she thinks the worst ones are when she turns on them angrily taking out her stress and spouting insults, unable to control her words, completely losing herself and them leaving her alone, a rage demon enveloping her as she cries and begs them to come back snapping that theyre horrible ect. those dreams scare her but they also piss her off like “ why am i thinking about that?” “why did i act like that?” maybe she thinks shes the worst? stuff like that. shes very big on holding all her emotions in her chest until she dies so she almost never outwardly shows when shes scared unless it’s indirectly like screaming herself awake. which she does do kinda a lot to her annoyance.

29. What do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? Do they tease them? Or get very over protective?

It depends on the intensity of the fear i think, if its like spiders or falling up into the sky she will absolutely tease someone about that. but if its something like being alone or hurt or having to see someone that hurt them she gets very protective. shes not gonna tell them that, shell put a hand on their shoulder or give them a little squeeze teasing a bit that “she’ll protect them shes not scared of it” n wink at them n if they encounter whatever theyre scared of shes gonna kill it very hard if its possible lmao

35. What’s their guilty pleasure? What is their totally unguilty pleasure?

she UM sorta drinks a lot and she is pretty guilty about it a lot of the time, but sometimes its the only way shes able to sleep. shes never mean and she usually doesnt do it until shes wasted. conversations are had and she makes it less of a habit eventually. another one she has thats more lighthearted is she loves romantic shit and secretly reads romance things, kinda like cassandra but when shes confronted with it usually she just avoids the subject by over exaggeratingly flirting with whoever is tryna tease her. (its usually alistair)

[hiddendreamer67]

Couple’s Quarrel

Summary: Logan and his werewolf boyfriend Roman are having their first fight, and Patton is there to help Logan through it.

October Prompt #27: Quarrel.

Check out more of my writing at @hiddendreamerwriting!

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

Logan sighed, closing the front door with an uncharacteristically dismal attitude. He stepped into the living room, taking a moment to process the multiple pieces of fabric stacked haphazardly before the tv.

“Logan!” Patton’s happy face popped out from the front of the tent. “Welcome back, I missed you!” Indeed, it had been nearly a week now since Logan had returned to the human apartment. “Where have you been? Do you want to join me in my blanket fort?” 

Logan cringed inwardly, having hoped to avoid human interaction on tonight of all nights, possibly because for once he was craving it. “Ah…”

“Don’t worry, there’s enough room.” Patton scooted over, patting the spot next to him. “And it’s real comfy, I promise.”

“Very well then.” Logan tried to appear begrudging as he sat down in the aforementioned location, careful not to cuddle too close to Patton for fear of appearing desperate for companionship.

Patton cuddled closer anyways. It seemed his best friend could read him like a book. “I was gonna watch Into the Woods, if that’s okay?” 

Logan thought about it, how that particular musical portrayed werewolves as dastardly and cruel. It wasn’t accurate, but it might provide him with a grim sort of satisfaction. 

“That’s satisfactory.” Logan agreed, content for a while to watch the film as Patton babbled along in his ear, trying to provide some sort of distraction. It was working, for a while, until inevitably they came upon the first wolf scene.

“...oh.” Patton petered off, his face falling as he paused the movie. “Sorry, I forgot about that part. Let me change it-”

“No need.” Logan assured him.

Patton paused, turning around to give Logan a confused glance. “But, what about Roman?”

Logan pretended to remain ignorant, staring straight ahead at the screen and the predator depicted there. “What about him?”

Patton winced, and Logan knew that despite trying to hide his emotions Patton had become sympathetic due to his strange behavior. After all, Logan was often very adamant about removing media that depicted lycans incorrectly, seeing as it was downright insulting to one of Roman’s kind. The wolf had moaned about it enough that Logan had caught on to the habit in a fond sort of manner. 

“Are you two fighting?” Patton guessed. 

Logan considered this question. “I do believe we are having our first quarrel, yes.”

Patton was quiet a moment. “...do you want to talk about it?”

“I am uncertain.” Logan shrugged noncommittally.

“That’s fair.” Patton scooted closer to him, taking the remote and turning off the screen. He grabbed one of Logan’s hands, gently rubbing his thumb against the back of Logan’s palm. “Then maybe instead of talking about your feelings, you could just tell me what happened? And we can work it out together.”

Logan took a tense breath, trying to sort out the facts from the irrelevant details. “I’m not exactly certain what occurred myself.” He admitted. “I’ve been visiting Roman for a while now, he invited me to stay longer than usual to get to know their customs. But at that point I didn’t want to spend any longer in that house because it can be quite stifling with the amount of pack members present at all hours, although I doubt you would understand.”

“Logan.” Patton said, only a bit stern. “Just because I’m more extroverted doesn’t mean I don’t understand the need to be alone every once in a while.” 

“Indeed, my apologies.” Logan waited until Patton nodded in thanks to continue. “So I was walking along the edge of town, just to get a breath of fresh air. A being unknown to me approached, obviously hostile in nature.”

Patton gasped, giving a much more dramatic reaction to Logan’s stoic retelling.

“Relax, I am fine. I clearly survived.” Logan assured him with a small smile, giving Patton’s arm a pat. “Roman appeared, the two got into a scuffle, similar to... dogs asserting dominance, I suppose. Roman won and the beast disappeared into the forest.” 

“So Roman saved your life.” Patton’s eyes widened, impressed. “Wow Logan, that’s so- romantic! It doesn’t sound like a fight between you two, it’s kinda heroic.”

Logan grimaced, remembering the quarrel that came directly afterwards. “Well, you see…”

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

Logan’s heart was still beating rapidly, failing to retract to its normal pace as the threat limped back towards the forest. Roman stood, puffing out his chest and breathing raggedly until the being was truly gone. Then he turned to Logan, a wild gaze in his eye.

“Are you hurt?” Roman asked, and Logan forced himself not to flinch as Roman grabbed his arms, looking over the human with an intent gaze. How had Roman known to come? Had he followed Logan here? 

“I- no, Roman, I am uninjured.” Logan tried to tug away, but Roman’s superior strength held out. “It was nothing more than a close call.”

“That was really close this time. Too close.” Roman slouched forwards, giving Logan a stern look like one might give when scolding a child. “Please, promise me you’re going to listen to me and be more careful in the future.”

“I am not an adolescent, I can take care of myself.” Logan insisted. 

“You clearly cannot.” Roman gestured towards the woods. “This is why you need to stay with us, I’m more certain now than ever, come on-”

“No!” Logan protested, digging in his heels to slow Roman as the werewolf attempted to tug him along. “Roman, stop!”

Roman did stop, looking at Logan with an unreadable expression. “What, so you just want to keep running away from your problems?” His eyes were still manic, darting back and forth as if waiting to pick another fight. Roman’s claws were extended, grazing against Logan’s wrist in their firm grip. For the first time in months, Logan felt afraid of him.

“Roman, you’re scaring me.” Logan admitted, and his words miraculously made Roman flinch back, releasing his grip. “Stop treating me as though I’m just some sort of bauble to keep as a prize.”

“You know I don’t see you that way.” Roman whined, not unlike a puppy that was terrible with listening. 

“Do I?” Logan wasn’t so sure now. “Everyone else in your family seems content to treat me like a dog, ironic given your canine appearance.”

“That’s low, even for you.” Roman glowered, clearly fuming. “Do you hate them so much that you’re willing to get yourself killed over it?”

“I didn’t intend to throw my life away.” Logan rolled his eyes, considering that to be obvious. “If you had thought to warn me about the dangers of the surrounding area, I would have been prepared.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Roman insisted. “You’re too weak, but I can protect you from all that.”

“Even yourself?” Logan huffed. Roman’s face fell into such a state of despair that Logan immediately regretted his words, but was too prideful to take them back. Instead, he turned on his heel, content to not face Roman any longer. “I’m going back to the apartment.” 

“Logan, wait.” Roman reached out for Logan again.

“Don’t touch me!” Logan dodged out of his grasp, now full on running back towards the town. If Roman wanted, he could easily catch up with Logan at any moment. 

He didn’t.

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

“And that’s when I arrived here.” Logan finished.

Patton let out a low whistle. “Ah. So… lots of tempers, then.”

“Indeed.” Logan glanced at Patton, hoping his emotional friend would be better at deciphering what had just occurred. “Might you offer some assistance in regards to what this meant?”

“Well… emotions were definitely high.” Patton tapped his chin in thought. “I mean you were both just through a scary experience, so I think you said some things you didn’t mean. But it sounds to me that you’re feeling frustrated because Roman’s pack is not welcoming of your relationship, or appears that way, and being surrounded by werewolves was overwhelming for you.”

“Yes, that is accurate.” Logan agreed.

“And Roman…” Patton hummed, his nose scrunching up in thought. “I think… he feels like a failure.”

“A failure?” Logan raised an eyebrow at this deduction. “But he was the victor of the scuffle.”

“No, not that sort of failure.” Patton shook his head. “Roman wants to protect you, but he doesn’t understand how to do that without stifling you because he’s used to being around wolves who can take care of themselves and he sees you as more fragile. Physically, at least. And he doesn’t know how to protect you from his family, emotionally, so he just puts more and more effort into protecting you physically because it’s all he knows.”

“That’s barbaric.” Although Logan’s tone sounded indecisive. “The mindset of a neanderthal.”

“It’s sorta sweet, Logan.” Patton corrected, putting his arm around Logan’s shoulders. “I mean, I think you were right to come here, you both need some space to cool off, but if you two learned to communicate better I’m certain you could figure out some smart-brain way to make it work.”

“But how?” Logan protested. “The next intelligent step in our relationship was sharing a living space to test compatibility, and that has clearly failed. It is only logical that our arrangement must desist.”

Patton hummed, laying his head on Logan’s shoulder. “Logan, you are one of the smartest people I know. But sometimes, you are also one of the dumbest.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Logan looked aghast, staring down at Patton with a scoff.

“Are you really going to let a thing like Roman’s family stop you two from being together?” Patton looked up at him. “I mean, if you really care about each other- which Roman clearly cares about you- that’s all that should matter.”

“The world does not operate that way.” Logan argued.

“Well, it should.” Patton said firmly, giving him a smile. “It’s okay to take a step back in your relationship when you realize you needed more time. Maybe try living apart for a while.”

“I doubt Roman would allow that.” Logan frowned, exasperated. “He often bemoans having to leave my side, and I imagine stopping all visits to his home would only make him more insufferable.”

“Yeah, well boundaries are also a thing.” Patton giggled a bit nervously. “If you don’t want to see him that much, you’re allowed to have time to yourself.” 

Logan’s cheeks turned a bit pink, Patton misreading his statement. “Well, ah… I would not explicitly say I’m opposed to that much contact myself…”

“Then he can come over here!” Patton suggested excitedly. “I’d love to meet him more, and you’d feel less overwhelmed. He could even stay for a while if you two feel comfortable trying to live together again, I don’t mind.” 

“Truly?” Logan was surprised at Patton’s eagerness. “I suppose… but it’s only delaying the inevitable. Roman is a pack animal by nature, I doubt he would abandon his family for a single individual.”

“You never know.” Patton shrugged. “But even if that’s true, we could always invite just one or two of his packmates over here so you could get to know them, and so they can learn you’re not so bad yourself.”

“You’re quite optimistic.” Logan bemused.

“And you should be too.” Patton informed him. “Maybe I’m wrong, and nothing is ever gonna work out. But you’ll never know unless you two just talk things through.”

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 6: The Amulet

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The hunt is on for the Amulet of Nero. But in the wake of discovering Gaius has been freed, Kamilah is forced to voice her fears while Adrian reveals a few secrets of his own. Maricruz kinda-sorta saves the day.

WARNING: this chapter contains brief explicit sexual content

[READ IT ON AO3]

“Our betrayal of Gaius was more than an uprising; more than a simple desire to shift the balances of power. It took an extraordinary amount of conviction and the strength to resist everything that made us who we are.

“A vampire’s Maker is their lodestone, and together they are symbiotic in nature. We loved him — I see no point in denying it now that the ties that bind have been severed, and for so long. We loved him, so much that the year following our betrayal very nearly killed us in our unwanted grief.

“If you know of the feeling I speak, then I am truly sorry for your suffering. If you do not — consider yourself lucky in that you will only need to die the once. That’s what it felt like; dying. But for the sake of this I ask that you remember your moment of greatest and most profound grief. And multiply it by the number of stars in the sky.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to understand me when I tell you that our devotion to Gaius was infinitesimal compared to how he felt about his Maker; the First Vampire — Rheya.”

Once Nadya managed to reclaim the memory that Jameson had stolen (she still doesn’t know how, please don’t ask her — eventually they’re going to ask her and what’s a profound way to say ‘IDK’ worthy of the title Bloodkeeper) it all started to come back to her in cinema-quality high definition.

But there are still parts of her dinner party from hell that feel more like parts of a dream than something that really happened. Isseya’s makeover montage was one, their startling attention to her dietary needs and wants was most certainly another.

Until she’s left with only one thing that still feels… not-quite. Not-quite real, not-quite imagined. Different than the memories but no… no it happened. Didn’t it?

“And I know that everything you do—all the killing, Turning, plotting and kingdoms and thrones… it’s all for her. Your Maker… Rheya.”

Even now, long after Adrian and Lily and Jax have gone from the penthouse with tales of goddesses and betrayals swirling around in their heads, Nadya feels… she feels like she correctly guessed an answer on a multiple choice test. Except instead of four choices there’s about a billion and the one she picked wasn’t even one of the options.

There’s a soft knock on the door but Kamilah doesn’t wait for permission to enter. It’s her place, after all. There’s something strangely comforting about the act; the normalcy of it. Like none of this has happened and they’re still a year backwards trying to understand the oddities of one another.

That was some real prime-time sitcom material right there.

But if things were normal Kamilah wouldn’t be hovering in the doorway with an uncharacteristic uncertainty.

“What’s up,” Nadya sits upright so fast her head goes a bit fuzzy but immediate panic is a valid reaction in these troubled times, “is everything okay? Oh god — is he here?”

The woman quirks a perfect brow before realizing the terrifying evil villain mastermind of which she speaks. “No, Nadya. And if he were… I would not let him take you.”

In a world of unbelievable things, Nadya has no trouble believing Kamilah means that.

And she feels Kamilah’s eyes on her for a long moment before they speak again.

“Why are you in here?”

That’s a good question. Especially since habit started dragging her tired feet to Kamilah’s bedroom after Lily’s sixth one-last-hug. No, Nadya had changed her course somewhere in the middle of the hall and… now she’s here.

“I guess… I wanted to give you some space.”

Kamilah manages to make even incredulity look graceful. “What do you possibly mean by that?”

Stop asking questions I don’t have answers to. “Well… you’re still mad at me.”

“I believe I’m due a fair bit more credit than that.”

“That wasn’t a question, Kamilah.” Not when she can feel it. Not when it stings against her skin like ice.

Kamilah tilts her head to the side slightly. “I did not assume it was. But I would like to think my feelings have more depth and complexity than something as simple as ‘anger,’ especially when it comes to you.”

And Nadya’s pretty sure there’s an unspoken confession there; the closest they’ve ever come to that kind of thing. It makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand alert — a different kind of fear.

Fear at having something. And fear of losing it.

“I can be frustrated at your recklessness and still desire your company,” she continues; reaches out a hand that Nadya doesn’t even hesitate to take. Not now, not ever probably.

With no resistance at all Kamilah leads Nadya to the other end of the penthouse; to the bedroom that’s still Kamilah’s in name but, not unlike every other space up here, Nadya has come to think of as hers, too. Theirs, even.

What a doozy of a thought.

She’s led across the bedroom to the closet; each step Kamilah takes is sure and certain and Nadya trusts her for it. Trusts her when familiar fingers run over her skin like silk and start to undress her.

Her shirt is tugged over her head. At her back Nadya feels Kamilah’s lips press like a whisper against her bare shoulder. “May I admit a terrible secret to you, Nadya?”

She wants to turn, to take every sharp edge of the woman in both palms and smooth them out until neither of them are hurting.

“You can tell me anything. You know that.”

Another kiss to her throat, to her cheek, to her temple.

“Strange of you to say it aloud… stranger still that I cannot find myself in disagreement.”

“Kamilah…”

And she realizes shortly after why the vampire has them pressed together but keeps herself almost dutifully out of Nadya’s sight. Really all she had to do was take off Nadya’s glasses, but the tension is too thick even for her particular brand of humor to cut through.

“I was afraid.”

It’s an admission that rocks Nadya to her core — and definitely makes the arms wrapped slender around her waist to undo the button of her jeans a tad less sexy.

What is she supposed to say to that?

Thankfully Kamilah doesn’t give her the chance to actually give it a thought. Or worse — say the wrong thing on impulse. “And fear… fear is not a complex emotion; not for me. You cannot find a depth in something you have not felt in… in many years.”

Her hands rest a chilly weight on Nadya’s hips. She covers them with her own slowly, gently — then all at once.

“You were afraid when Adrian was in danger.”

Like she’s trying to rationalize the most irrational emotion there is.

“I was, yes,” — there’s a quick inhale in Nadya’s ear — “but I think we both know that was a different kind of fear.”

Do we? “O—Oh.”

Nadya turns in the woman’s arms — she gives Kamilah ample time to force her back but she just doesn’t. Reminds Nadya of the statue of the woman who looked like Kamilah back on the roof over their very heads months ago.

She cups Kamilah’s cheek and feels the warmth leeched from her body. Good, she thinks, take that and more — take everything I can offer.

“I…” —was scared too, terrified, tragically terrified— “I kept hoping you’d… you’d come for me.”

“Nothing of this earth would have stopped me.”

“But —”

“But he is not of this earth. Not in a way that would have allowed me to keep you safe.”

Nadya knows that — really she does. She’s not bitter or mad or anything like it. It’s just that if she doesn’t get it out she might actually explode from how it makes her feel.

“I will not fail you again.”

“You didn’t fail me, Kamilah.”

“It is a miracle that you were returned. That you were not…”

And someone get out a camera, tape recorder, something; because words like these don’t come from a person with Nadya’s levels of anxiety often—

“But I was. Don’t think about what didn’t happen. I’m here, Kamilah. I’m right here.”

I’m right here. I’ve got you.

Three words — three words more. Words that have followed them through practically everything and that means more than either of them could express. Nadya’s a small person with a big heart and Kamilah… she’s kept her own heart locked away for so long sometimes Nadya worries she thinks she’s lost the key.

She hasn’t. God, she hasn’t.

“I’m right here,” she repeats; feels her voice catch and cling to the words like barbed wire, “I’m right here, okay?”

Hands tighten on her hips and Nadya closes her eyes before the dizziness overtakes her. The world tugged out from under her feet and the firm resistance of Kamilah’s mattress on her back and the solid form of the woman on top of her; knees on either side of her pinning her down, prone; exposed.

Vulnerable in a way she is always vulnerable to Kamilah. In a way that completely brushes aside her mortality and digs deeper into her until she’s Nadya; no last name, no history, no life outside of right here right now.

Kamilah takes her lips; takes her words, her very breath. She takes everything Nadya is willing to give.

And, as seconds tick by like hours — like eternities — as Kamilah tugs away layers and inhibitions and defies the definition of impossible to expose her all the more, she takes not only everything but maybe just a little bit more.

“Kam—il—”

She gasps, mouth slack and syllables far beyond her now. Can’t focus on anything more than the timeless struggle between not wanting to hurt Kamilah and not wanting to let go of the dark brown waves she knots in her fingers with every deft movement of her skilled tongue.

“I rather enjoy you this way,” Kamilah had said; exactly five minutes and twenty-two seconds after the first time and with every word curled in her smirking lips shiny with slick, “the woman never without something to say rendered speechless.”

And Nadya had denied that (it had taken her… a while to muster the energy to do so, but she did); insisted she didn’t always have something to say. Which kind of proved Kamilah’s point.

So this time around, when she feels the long swipe of Kamilah’s tongue; feels her lips close around her clit hungry and indulgent, Nadya promises not to deny it one single bit.

Nadya returns from the lunch cart downstairs with their sandwich boxes in hand. “Trade?”

“Trade,” replies Adrian. He barely looks up from his report while she switches their folders and leaves his turkey-no-mustard on top.

She settles back in on his office couch — heels toed off and stocking-clad feet tucked under her skirt. In order to make sure she doesn’t associate the spot permanently with bad memories Nadya’s all but forced herself into his space. All she needs is her phone charger close at hand and it’ll be her own little nest.

Thankfully, Adrian doesn’t mind.

“Hey,” she thumbs through the pages held together with a well-worn clip, “I’m missing one.”

“Mmm.”

“Adrian.”

“Yes, thank you.”

If they were any ordinary secretary and boss, it isn’t unreasonable to assume she would get fired for hurling her pink highlighter at his head with all her might. But they aren’t ordinary, Adrian isn’t ordinary — he catches it without so much as a twitching muscle but it’s enough to jostle him from his stupor.

He looks down at the marker as if he has no idea where it came from.

“Oh, Nadya,” he blinks in surprise, “when did you get back?”

“Just a second ago. I’m missing a page.”

“Of what?”

She holds up the folder with a duh sort of look on her face; Adrian quickly ruffles around the sea of papers in front of him before he plucks the right sheet out and delivers it in apology.

Nadya takes it because there’s no way she’s wasting time. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t grab his arm before he can leave.

“You okay?”

He chuckles dryly. “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m not the one acting like a zombie.”

The look Adrian gives her is an admonishing one but Nadya isn’t exactly taking it back. “My apologies.” He’s forgiven, of course, but she shoos him back to his desk anyway.

Nadya slides the printed photocopy in with the rest and starts at the page he had left off on… two paragraphs down on page one. Awesome.

Okay, maybe she’s allowed a teeny little break to eat half of her sandwich.

But the silent chewing is just too uncomfortable.

“Wanna talk about what’s on your mind?” Nadya asks; because there’s no harm in trying even if she already knows the answer.

And he doesn’t disappoint. “No, thank you.”

It’s an unintended positive that Adrian jumps back to work to avoid being asked to talk for a second time. He takes the R&D file out from under his sandwich with renewed interest — he even appropriates her highlighter for added effect.

Nadya has stopped lying to herself. Everything is not okay, not by a long shot. There’s an evil madman who once called himself King of the Vampires running around New York (at the least, and she really doesn’t want to think about where else he could have gotten to by now) — there is absolutely no universe in which that is okay.

They just have to hope they find this Amulet of Nero before he does. Not that karma is making it easy on them. Things would go a lot faster if Nadya could remember the specific vampire-memory Jameson had taken from her but no amount of Kamilah-led meditation, Adrian-supervised brain scans, or Lily-brewed “magic tea” has done the trick so far… so she’s kind of given up on that front.

“Here’s something,” she says what feels like five hours later — a quick look at the clock is (for the first time) surprisingly accurate at four and a half, “the article says here there was an issue in 1875 where the British Museum, who claimed to have the Amulet on display, was actually showing a forgery.

“Apparently they had the real deal but the day before the exhibit was set to open to the public it was stolen. They covered it up to protect the museum’s reputation.”

It’s the first real smile Nadya’s seen from Adrian all week. “That’s really good, Nadya. Add it to the timeline?”

“All over it.” She scribbles ‘London, 1875’ onto a sticky note and hops up and over to the far office wall to add it to the rest of their research. All the way from ‘Rome, 64 AD’ to the newest addition of London.

She’d be able to have a much more comprehensive collection of information and formulated theories if Adrian let her bring up one of the giant display whiteboards from the conference rooms downstairs, but she just has to make due with what she’s got.

Nadya takes a step back to take their combined work in fully. Somehow the high of finding a clue or a decent lead never really lasts. Somehow she’s always reminded of the fact that Gaius is probably ten steps ahead and counting.

“Hey, Adrian?”

He looks up from their other project — the actual work that has to be done at their actual place of business — because he’s a quick study. That or he really doesn’t want to be catching highlighters all night.

Nadya looks back to him and can’t help the worry she lets slip through the cracks.

“Do you think the Amulet really has the blood of the First Vampire inside of it?”

Because she hadn’t, not at first. But Kamilah isn’t the kind of person to make jokes on a good day and doubtful she’d start now. Gaius’ most treasured possession, hidden away so well even the owner himself couldn’t find it.

Not the Amulet itself but what it held. A giant, gaudy antique locket — and inside; a vial of blood that Gaius had told Kamilah belonged to his Maker; the First Vampire. Something he had intended to keep with the hopes of one day finding a way to resurrect her, Kamilah had said.

“Could that be such a bad thing?” Jax had asked. “Maybe she’d put him in his place.”

Kamilah didn’t agree though. “Doubtful — for two thousand years I followed Gaius’ every move and enacted his every plan. Always, he said, in Rheya’s name. If his every atrocity was done on her behalf I don’t think anything good could come of bringing her unto this world again.”

Adrian leans back in his chair and it creaks with the effort. “Honestly… I don’t know. I wish I could give you a more concrete answer, but…”

“No, no I—I know.”

“Regardless of what you or I believe, though, Gaius knows there’s something powerful inside of it. Something worth… worth putting you through months of agony for.”

Nadya has a feeling there’s more to what he wants to say but, like every time Adrian even tries to start talking about his Maker or what Jameson had done to her, he gets lost in his thoughts and it goes unspoken.

And, like every time, the inevitable apologies are the next thing he says instead.

“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry —”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” interrupts Nadya; a little more clipped than she’d like, “how many times do I have to tell you?”

But she may as well be talking to a brick wall with ‘ADRIAN’ written on it in chalk.

“I do though, don’t you get it?”

“Obviously I don’t.”

“It was my decision to punish Gaius instead of kill him. Lester, Priya, hell even Vega wanted him killed for real. They thought even the smallest chance of him escaping could spell the end of us all. If I had chosen not to try and teach him a lesson…”

Nadya can’t really believe what she’s hearing. “You showed him mercy, Adrian.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “I showed mercy to a merciless tyrant.”

“You showed that you were the better man.”

“I showed weakness.”

“No,” nope, no way she’s doing this nu-uh, “being merciful is not weakness. Who the heck am I even talking to right now?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well it can’t be Adrian Raines! It sure doesn’t sound like him.” In fact, it sounds like…

Nadya refuses to let her thoughts get that dark, though.

“This isn’t a matter of opinion.” Adrian stands — suddenly he can’t look Nadya in the eye so he goes to the next best distraction. Even with his hands in his pockets though Nadya can see in his reflection of the window glass that they’re balled up into fists. His teeth are grit and she prays—actually prays—that the red she sees in his eyes is just some jet lights passing by.

“If I had been strong enough to kill Gaius the first time, if I had understood that he was beyond lessons and punishment, none of this would be happening. You would be able to come into your Bloodkeeper powers as you needed to — without the pain of being forced into it. You wouldn’t have been kidnapped. Hell—even Vega wouldn’t have had a reason to accuse me of trying to grab for his power. And Lily wouldn’t have —”

He cuts himself off but the damage is done.

“Lily?”

Adrian only looks guiltier when he turns away from the window like the bookcase holds all the answers to life and the universe. Anything so Nadya doesn’t have to see his face. But she wants to. Now more than ever.

“Finish what you were going to say, Adrian,” she has no idea how that sentence even ends but there’s an anger bubbling up inside her, unbidden; unrestrained, “‘Lily wouldn’t have’ what?”

All the frustration and tension leaves Adrian in an exhale; shoulders slumped and he lets his head hang with the weight of the world. He looks more like a man heading to a guillotine. Maybe whatever he has to say is just as awful.

He looks at Nadya with grief, pity — something close. “I was going to tell you.”

Adrian steps forward. Nadya steps back.

“Tell me what?”

“I only put the pieces together a few days ago — after we learned Gaius was still alive.”

“I asked about Lily, not Gaius.” Because those two names shouldn’t be in the same sentence. Not without words like ‘kicked’ and ‘butt’ between them and all of it in Lily’s favor.

“Nadya…”

“Oh my god — will you just stop stalling?!”

“I’m not —” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “— I thought I was being paranoid at the time. It didn’t add up, we didn’t know Jameson was working with him, Gaius was still locked in the sarcophagus; so I brushed it all aside.”

Nadya presses herself against the wall. A couple of the notes come loose and flutter to the carpet at her shoeless feet. She’s demanded him to finish talking but he hadn’t and now she wants him to shut up — she’ll do anything for him to shut up.

Because words aren’t just words anymore. Stories, thoughts, recollections — they’re all memories when it comes to them; when it comes to her. And it’s coming to her and Nadya doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to see.

“We know now he’s been playing the long game,” Adrian continues — and Nadya hates him for it, “maybe longer than even we know. And when you put it together it… it makes sense.”

“No—no it doesn’t,” it, like what happened to Lily was as common as anything, “it doesn’t, Adrian. Because Lily was attacked by Vega, or one of Vega’s people. That’s what we decided, remember? Because it made sense. Because he wanted to use me to get to you; to have another case against you for Turning someone without permission. That’s what we all agreed had happened.”

But they still didn’t know; not with any certainty. And when everything had finally cooled off and one half of the Council wasn’t actively trying to murder the other, Adrian and Kamilah offered to help find the real culprit. Lily had said no.

It happened, it’s done — she’s moving on because nothing would change whether she knew or didn’t.

It happened Adrian, Nadya screams in her mind, with her eyes, it’s done, remember? It’s done!

If only he was a mind reader.

“Turning can be a trauma. But Lily — she didn’t remember anything. It was too convenient. It was as though…”

“… the memory had been taken from her.”

“Yes. Just like he took the memory of the Amulet from you.”

I don’t want to see this. Please don’t make me see this. And she hates them — hates them all. She hates Adrian for keeping this from her. She hates Jameson for doing this to her. She hates Gaius for being the wizard behind the curtain.

Please don’t make me see this.

The memory may have been taken from Lily but it’s not Lily she’s remembering. It’s not Lily that Nadya sees when her head turns and gazes at her reflection in the mirror on their apartment wall. It’s Jameson who raises Nadya’s hand and pushes up his spectacles and stalks deeper inside to Lily digging around in the medicine cabinet for… for something.

Jameson who smiles his unnervingly calm smile and descends his fangs. Jameson who attacks her neck savage and monstrous and drags her body to the living room for Nadya—the Nadya from before, the one who isn’t scarred by the sight of this just yet—to discover. Who puts two fingers on Lily’s sweating temples as she bleeds out gasping and desperate below him and takes the memory of it all away.

“Ohmygod—”

A gut-wrenching sob rips itself from Nadya’s throat; brings her back into her own body and out of the memory of her best friend being murdered because of her. Not a guess, not a decision based on the most logical answers — but a real, hard truth she has no choice but to face.

Lily was killed because Gaius willed it. Because Jameson never does anything without Gaius willing it. And he had sat there beside them in the Council Chamber, looked at Lily and he’d known.

Somewhere in the middle of all of these terrible facts Nadya has fallen to her knees. Hell if she remembers when. But the office carpet burns and Adrian’s suit probably isn’t made for this kind of position but he’s there, he’s holding her close keeping Nadya’s hands pinned at her sides resting his chin at the crown of her head while she sobs until there’s no air left in her lungs to manage it.

“H-How dd-id… how…”

“Sssh,” Adrian tries to calm her, “I knew it couldn’t have been one of the Clanless because of her girlfriend. There was… a trace of a scent, but I couldn’t follow up. I couldn’t risk wasting the little time she had. It was gone, replaced by Vega and Kamilah by the time I was able to get back there to check.

“That’s why I believed it was him, Nadya. But it just seemed so… you don’t know how terrible it was to watch you grieve like that. All the pain and suffering you went through, the uncertainty of whether or not Lily would survive the Turning… it was evil.

“It was something Gaius would have done. A way to torture you. Only I didn’t realize he used Jameson to do it.”

He doesn’t need to explain it now — Nadya knows; she’s seen. And she can’t even hold herself up from the pain of it but when she can stand again…

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Adrian tenses around her. “What? No, Nadya, you’re not.”

“Yes—yes I am.” She pulls away to look him in the eyes. “I’m gonna kill Jameson. For attacking Lily and leaving her to die, and for being the reason I had to… that I just…”

“I’m sorry, I am. But you know none of us will let you do something so stupid.”

“Just you wait,” she sniffles; tries to maintain the integrity of her makeup as much as possible while wiping her eyes but that’s pretty much a lost cause, “no one’s seen how stupid I can get.”

“This isn’t you. You’re not like this.”

“Tell that to the Baron’s henchman I killed.” Nadya doesn’t even know why she brings it up; didn’t even know it was something she still thought about. But is she wrong?

“In self defense; in my defense.”

“Yeah… maybe.”

He’s smart and doesn’t try to stop her when Nadya pulls away. She gathers the fallen notes and her composure with them before setting about putting them back in their right order.

Adrian stands and dusts off the knees of his suit. “Nadya…?” he asks, hesitant, but she shrugs off the hand he puts on her shoulder.

Adrian isn’t gonna let this go though, is he? Still standing at her back. Like he wasn’t trying to distance himself before.

Fine. Nadya sniffles; tries to cut the thick wetness from her voice. “How long were you going to keep it a secret? If not from me, then from Lil’?”

“Until I could find some sort of proof — or make him confess.”

“No. No more secrets. Not from me or from anyone; even you.”

Adrian nods. Yeah, he’d better. “Do you want to go now?”

“We need to find the Amulet.” Find the Amulet, find Gaius. Find Gaius, find Jameson. “Let’s just… get back to work.”

He watches and waits while Nadya settles back into her little nook on his couch. The sight is a relief, and only when she’s back with a cap in her mouth and a folder in hand does he head back to his desk.

“Yeah, yeah. Yup. Mmmhm. Thanks Am’, you’re a godsend. Oh — you know what I mean!”

The day Nadya learned that Maricruz kept a flip phone for her burner because she was really into the satisfying way you could snap the phone shut was the day a lot of things the former smuggler does started to make sense.

Against the very vocal protests of the springs Maricruz hops up on the couch and swings a leg over Lily’s head to sit perched on the back of it higher than the rest of them. She pulls Lily back close and starts tap-tapping her head like a drum in her victory. Times like this — Nadya can’t help but watch them with a little smile. Lily deserves it; that silliness, that fun in her life. Just as much as she deserves someone who can help her navigate the pitfalls of vampirism with some experience under their belt.

“Hey, hon?” Lily asks without looking up from her laptop screen.

“Hmm, mi amor?”

“Why are you playing my head like a bongo?”

“Because your head is a bongo.”

Nadya rolls her eyes with a little laugh. “Because that makes sense.”

Maricruz shrugs and doesn’t let them deter her playing.

“Okay, well are my bongos suddenly justified if I say I know where and when this dumbass Amulet was last seen?”

Lily and Nadya lock eyes from across the apartment. In a beat Nadya leaps into her armchair and Lily snaps her head around so fast there’s a few cracks in her neck. Nadya’s learned to stop questioning some weird vampire things. Most of them to do with the gag-inducing adorableness of the pair.

Lily makes a drum set of her own with her girlfriend’s knees. “Don’t keep us in suspense babe!”

“Yeah babe,” Nadya chimes in with a laugh, “plus I don’t think my little human heart can take any more suspense for the week.”

“Langdon Kavinsky.”

Crickets. No, really — the landlord refuses to do anything about the crickets.

“Gesundheit?” is about all Nadya’s got. Thankfully Lily already has her laptop dragged forward and is hammering away at the keys.

Maricruz rolls her eyes. “Funny. No, Langdon Kavinsky is the name my contact finally dug up; the name of the dick who definitely was one of the last guys to own the Amulet of Zero.”

“Nero.”

“I know what I said.”

Lily turns her screen so Nadya can see her search. “So looks like Kavinsky’s some rich white dude out in the Southwest. Says here he’s famous in certain auction circles for the lengths he’ll go to own the rarest and spookiest stuff.”

Taking in the mustache, the bolo tie, and the fact his hair looks like it was smoothed back with the grease from his smile? Nadya has no trouble imagining this. “I never trusted a man in a cowboy hat. Still don’t.”

Lily knocks Maricruz’s knee with her shoulder. “Did you get a date?”

“Ambrose isn’t exactly my type, chica.”

“I meant a date of sale and you know it. If I go blindly digging into the financial records of a guy with that many commas in his account I might not come out alive.”

Nadya and Maricruz stare at her. Lily just shrugs. “I’m an acquired humor.”

“All I got was two years ago, sorry.”

“It’s better than nothing.” Lily’s glasses almost fall off as she tilts her head all the way back to give the woman an upside-down smile. “But it means I gotta go get a few safety measures. Be right back.”

She’s gone in a flash, and Nadya doesn’t need vampire hearing to catch the sounds of rummaging computer parts among the general collected stash of miscellany she calls a bedroom.

Though… it’s not often Nadya and Maricruz are left alone together without the Lily-shaped buffer between them. Not that they don’t get along — Nadya just really doesn’t like thinking of the last time they were alone together. The Shrike and the Baron. The Cellar. Walking into this very room and seeing Lily—

“So, Lily told me.”

Nadya’s glad to be taken out of those particular thoughts… but the alternative isn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows either.

She looks over to Maricruz who taps her boot on the arm of the couch in an unheard tune. She’s prone to movement like that a lot. Never without a beat to groove to, Lily calls it.

Judging by the level look in the vampire’s brown eyes, Nadya doesn’t have to guess. It makes sense Lily would share the big mystery behind her immortal curtain.

“Oh,” she says; because… what else is she supposed to say?

Maricruz nods; clicks her tongue for a long moment and the beat of her boot definitely falters somewhere in the middle.

“Is there something you… wanted to know?”

“Well since you bring it up, yeah.” She pounces on the opportunity; startles Nadya just a tad but when she recovers it dawns on her that she’s never seen Maricruz this antsy.

Not since that night.

“I’m not gonna fucking turn her,” hours earlier she’d seen the woman impale a henchman twice her size on a pool cue like it was nothing but Nadya hadn’t been scared of her until that moment, “and if you ask again I’m out.”

So Nadya hadn’t asked — she’d risked everything, made Adrian risk everything. But Maricruz had stayed. That was the one thing that never really made sense.

“Lily kinda gave me the ‘too long; didn’t read’ version of your whole… deal. The Blooddreamer thing.”

“Bloodkeeper,” Nadya corrects, not that it matters.

“Right, yeah, that. I’m sorry you had to see it.”

Which has her swallowing on her heart dry in her throat. “Me too.”

“So then does that mean you can, like, see everything about us? Through our whole lives up to now?”

It’s not a question asked lightly. Maricruz is uncertain and probably for good reason. Nadya is uncertain, too. She thinks to the journal she has hidden at the bottom of her bag (the first thing she’d checked for after realizing she was no longer under Gaius’ boot; honestly she was surprised it was still there) and wishes not for the first time that she could give someone—anyone—the ‘definite’ answer they’re looking for.

“I don’t know. Not — not before anyone was Turned, I think.”

“Can you pick whose memories you see, though?”

“No.”

“But Lily —”

And Nadya shuts that down real fast; “If I could have picked whether or not to see my best friend’s murder I think I would have opted out.”

Immediately Maricruz turns away — she knows she’s crossed a boundary. “No — no of course.”

“Why don’t you just ask me what you want to ask me, Mari?”

Lily still breathes because she’s spent more time alive doing it than not. Adrian and Kamilah still breathe because they have lives and stakes in the human world; and because Adrian enjoys it on some level.

But Maricruz is always so still. Like the day she realized she no longer needed to hold her breath was a relief she never knew she needed.

Nadya watches, silent except for her breathing (which she actually needs to do) and swears its just the lights from the apartment building across the street that make it look like Maricruz goes through a century of anguish in the seconds that pass.

Even though she knows better by now.

“She makes me a better person, you know?” The vampire finally says; and Nadya does know — she really does. “When we met — when she still thought I was human — I think that was the first time I’d really laughed in years. Hell—Matsuo was so confused when I showed up back at the Den that morning. I think he was a little scared to be honest.”

Nadya can imagine it; imagine but not remember it for herself thank god, and it makes her smile. “I bet.”

“There’s just this—this energy Lily has. You see it, you feel it too. More than optimism, its…”

“Lilyism?”

A very-much made up word that has them both in soft laughter. “Yeah,” Maricruz agrees, “‘Lilyism.’ I like that.

“When you’re new to all this, when your Turning is violent and scary, it’s so easy to go Feral. To lose all that spark you had in life. And I’ve been around since the Clans started. Raines — he was the most trustworthy of the lot but that wasn’t saying much in my book. He played by the rules but he was the only one doing it. If the Council fucked Lily over…”

She doesn’t have to say it. Nadya knows. Thankfully — thanks to Maricruz herself, actually — that’s not something she ever felt like she needed to worry about.

“You wanted to make sure she didn’t lose all the things that made her Lily.”

“Yeah. She made me a better person in just that short while we knew each other. Returning the favor was the least I could do.”

There’s a thunk from the direction of the bedrooms and they both stop; silent. Nadya knows its irrational, it’s not like they’re discussing something secret. But it’s a private moment — for the both of them.

And it won’t last much longer. “Look, Nadya,” she clenches her fists on top of her jeans frayed and worn at the knees, “what I’m tryin’ to say is this; if the time ever comes and you end up seeing the me I was before I met Lily, I just gotta ask you not to judge me for it. I’m not that woman anymore. I’ve done some stuff I’m not proud of and I’ll tell Lily eventually. I will. But…”

“But you deserve the chance to tell her in your own time and in your own way.”

“Yeah. That’s it exactly.”

They meet eyes across the suddenly vast apartment living room. Whatever Maricruz was expecting has her hesitant — but Nadya couldn’t be more understanding.

Hesitancy melts into visible relief. And Maricruz definitely would have thanked Nadya; she knows that much at least. If it wasn’t for the fact that the spell of their moment is broken by Lily bounding in at a surprisingly human speed and with arms filled with computer parts; the very least of which looks like it includes a tower, two monitors, and what looks like a DJ’s digital board.

“Cariña,” and even Maricruz looks intimidated by the amount of it all, “this is ‘a few?’”

Lily doesn’t even bother with fake remorse. They both know her better than that — and she knows it. “Better safe than sorry?”

It’s so Lily; a Lilyism by textbook definition. Nadya and Maricruz exchange looks over her technological dragon’s hoard and share that exact thought at the exact same time — and burst into laughter.

[spikeymarshmallows]

for headcannon meme!! kleigo, 7 and 8!! love your writing, your kleigo stuff is some of my favorite to read over and over!

klsjdflks. Anon. Thank you T.T I’m having a Weird Brain Time and this is just super, super nice to get T.T I hope you’re having an amazing day and that you get good news very soon!

Headcanon Meme

Okay, fuck. This got super long, so it’s after the Read More.

7. What do they get up to on a night out?

It definitely depends on the time period! I fully headcanon that Diego and Klaus saw each other in the years between leaving home and the start of the show. They were in the same city, Diego goes looking for trouble, and Klaus finds himself in it.

I struggle to see Diego just like, accepting Klaus’ drug habits and drinking etc, and going out like that. But maybe in those earlier years, when Diego was still exploring the world outside of the Academy walls, maybe he and Klaus ran into each other at various bars and clubs. Klaus would be inebriated to varying degrees, and Diego would be too. He hasn’t started the whole “my body is a temple” thing, and he’s young, and the world is crazy, and drinking doesn’t give him wild hangovers yet.

I can see them absolutely getting into mischief. Klaus is very good at talking Diego into doing dumb shit; and Diego insists he’s only following along to make sure Klaus doesn’t get in trouble. But LBR, he’s having a blast. Klaus is one of the only people he can tentatively let his hair down with. If Klaus needs parenting, then no, he doesn’t. But if they’re both a little drunk, Diego is still protective of Klaus, but he also relaxes. They’d dance together, and Klaus would laugh a lot, and Diego might let himself laugh too.

As they get older, and Diego realises the depths of Klaus’ drug addiction, he’d stop letting himself relax like that. He wouldn’t be okay with it. He’d try to drag Klaus home, somewhere safe, trying over and over to convince him to get sober.

And finally, if Klaus ever managed to get sober, things would look different. They’d go and see movies. They’d eat at places they liked; sometimes fancy, but usually random places Klaus stumbles across. Diego doesn’t like drinking anymore, so he has no issue not drinking. Klaus used to mournfully look at cocktail menus, but now Diego just gently extras the menus from him so he can’t even read them.

They don’t go to bars, at all. They don’t go to nightclubs, none of it. Some of the people in Klaus’ therapy groups are able to be around drugs and alcohol again, but Klaus can’t, he just can’t. Even if he manages to resist, it throws him off, mentally, for days and days.

After a while, they just agree not to go out anymore. It’s not worth the torture and torment it puts Klaus (and subsequently, Diego) through.

Sometimes, Klaus admits that he misses dancing. He doesn’t miss the loud music. He doesn’t miss creeps touching him. He kind of misses feeling like a hot piece of ass (but Diego is very good at convincing him he is, which helps). But he misses the freedom of dancing. He sometimes bops along to music, but without drugs to ease him in, he feels kinda silly dancing sometimes. But Diego doesn’t share the same shame, and puts the music on really loudly, and dances with him until he’s let go of the anxiety, and he’s laughing, and spinning, and feels entirely free.

Um. ...This got long. But basically, it depends on where they are in life. When they’re younger, they do what young people do. As they get older, they need to adapt for Klaus’ recovery, but Diego is a good one to do it. Their nights out end up as nights in, or trying new foods, and maybe sometimes, games night with the family.

8. What do they like in bed?

>:) >:) >:) ANON. I am scandalised. I only like wholesome, and innocent questions. Gosh! I... I certainly don’t have thousands of words of headcanons for this based on every possible Klaus and Diego I can think of.... No.... Not at all...... >.>

Ha!

No no, but. Oh my god. I could wax poetic about this for days. And... sometimes... I do XD

Both of them like to be taken out of their head, in various ways.

Diego is very image-driven, and has an insatiable need to prove himself. He tends to be a pretty selfless lover, but it’s not necessarily out of altruism. It’s because his ego needs him to demonstrate over, and over, and over, that he’s good at it. As a result, he doesn’t really know what he likes in bed. Not really. This is where my headcanon that Diego is a Service Top really comes through. He really, truly, does get off on his partners pleasure. And Klaus? Klaus is such a pillow princess that it sorta works for Diego for quite a while. Klaus is very forthcoming about his desires and wishes (more on that shortly), and Diego goes along with it all (more on that shortly too!!). And Klaus is, by his nature, quite selfish in many ways. He doesn’t do it to be cruel, he just... is. And Diego indulges him. And then one day, it slowly clicks that... Klaus doesn’t know Diego’s kinks. Diego seems to like almost everything Klaus suggests! And Klaus isn’t dumb enough to think it’s just good luck. He knows Diego has struggled with some things, and they’ve been working on that. But Diego has never expressed “I really love this, let’s do this”. No, it’s always Diego just getting into what Klaus likes.

And so they have to figure out what Diego likes. But hey, they’re more than happy to experiment. And really, Diego loves giving pleasure. He loves seeing Klaus a wreck beneath him. He loves taking Klaus apart, and even more than that, he loves putting Klaus back together. It makes him feel good. It makes him feel good, and worthy, and valid. He loves Klaus trusting him. He loves having a certain power over Klaus. In something I’m going to be posting shortly, Diego does something to Klaus that he thinks Klaus might hate; and what Diego loves isn’t the act itself, but that Klaus will let him. Klaus will kind of let Diego do anything, and Diego, while he used to fear that, really loves that. So what does Diego love in bed? Diego loves power. Diego loves feeling good enough (better than good enough), and making his partner feel good. 

Now Klaus... Klaus loves a lot of things. It’s hard to find things Klaus doesn’t love. He loves degradation, and humiliation, and being hurt. God, he loves it when Diego hurts him, because he’s got such a competance kink, and Diego is so fucking competant. And he trusts Diego with his life. Diego will hurt him, but he will never, ever harm him. Klaus is allowed to ask for whatever weird and whacky shit he wants, because he knows that Diego will go to the ends of the earth to make it good for him, and to make it safe for him, and to make him a puddle of goo. There’s the choking, and the bondage, of course. But there’s so much more. Klaus loves to give in, and have his options taken away. And he loves the places Diego will take him.

That isn’t to say that Klaus is a bottom, only. I think most people are versatile, but have preferences. Klaus likes to bottom, and Diego likes to top. But of course, they switch it up sometimes. And when Diego bottoms, he’s still a power bottom. He pins Klaus down and rides him hard, gripping his chin, or his throat; and he makes Klaus shake, edges him, and reminds Klaus at all times who is in charge here. 

And sometimes Klaus tops him, and takes control, but that makes Diego feel very vulnerable, and takes a lot out of him. It’s hard for him to let go of that control, and it scares him, even if he won’t ever admit it. But he’ll do it, because it matters. Klaus is vulnerable with him all the time... Diego... Diego can do this, sometimes, right? [He can].

But for all that they both love kinky sex (or rather, Klaus loves it, and Diego is a service top that loves Klaus), it’s not always whips and chains. Diego learns... He really loves that soft shit. His kink? Probably the aftercare bit. And the more he fucks Klaus up, the more aftercare he’s allowed to give.

TLDR: Klaus is a pillow princess, and Diego is a service top who fucking loves taking care of his boy, and he really kinks on giving Klaus a good time, and on Klaus’ pleasure, and Klaus loves being looked after.

Anyway, as I said, I could wax poetic about this, and have a billion ideas depending on the circumstances... But this is what I headcanon as like, the most related to the show, as they are rn.

[ethospathoslogan]

this was supposed to be a really quick post on a certain thing from the new video and, instead, it got really long and i don’t think it makes any sense

also might be an unpopular opinion so let’s see how this goes omfg

ngl once all the holiday excitement dwindles down, im gonna rewatch the new sanders sides video and Actually watch it (so probably tm night), but there has been something abt the new video that i’ve been sitting on today

and it’s that i felt really bad for virgil in it

like, to be blunt, as someone who has been the friend who isn’t taken seriously and who has been the butt of jokes before, it’s a really shitty feeling to not be taken seriously. it’s why i felt bad for logan in “moving on, part one,” because i felt for him. in that moment, that was when i realized that logan was My Dude and the side that i felt most connected with bc that was when i truly got logan, when i understood his need to be taken seriously and listened to, and also his confusion/inability to handle feelings like that.

and, watching the new video last night, i felt the same towards virgil

like, granted, i myself did not think virgil was scary, nor have i ever thought virgil was actually scary, but the sides, for a long time, found him, at the very least, concerning. and then, with “accepting anxiety,” that fear became acceptance but, over time, i think that acceptance became.... i don’t want to say “disregard,” bc that sounds really invalidating and harsh, but i guess sorta disregard??? and, like, with that video yesterday, virgil was trying to be scary. and, no, it’s not like it was out of malice, he just wanted to give the other sides a good scare w/ his blood and fangs and a knife

and, like, lbr, a year ago in sanders sides, virgil would’ve probably scared the living shit out of them (like how he literally wanted to)

but then he didn’t, and, now be liberal w/ me here bc i watched that video at like 12:30am, weren’t all the sides like “oh hi virgil” and (okay i just went back and watched the beginning to refresh myself) then roman was like “nope not scary like that” and logan went off on how virgil isn’t “doing his job” and patton was, altho trying to be encouraging... yes kinda patronizing, but i’ll get to that

and like idk, thomas said himself, “it’s good you’re not scary bc you’re part of the group!!!” which, idk, to me it sounded like, “you can’t be scary if you’re in the group.” which i guess was dealt with in the video but??? still is, ngl, kinda pretty invalidating. which, again, was dealt w/, so i digress

okay now ngl i right now as i type this at my kitchen table, am kinda hesitating to talk more abt this next point bc i have a feeling it’s probably an unpopular opinion and also i feel like i might be attacked if i “””speak against””” (using the terms loosely) this certain side but

i,,,, completely totally 110% get why virgil is kinda pushing back from patton???

like don’t get me wrong, i love patton and he has a special place in my heart, but i was, ngl, kinda happy to hear that the cute nicknames were gonna stop bc i had a feeling that was starting to grind virgil’s gears. and, w/ that, i guess we get into my actual point??? god this post is a mess im so sorry

basically, as someone who hasn’t been taken seriously before by people who mean the world to me, i completely get why virgil is sorta pushing back against patton, even if patton is trying to change his approach to virgil and also still be encouraging

one of the first moments that stood out to me is patton telling virgil to try and be scary again, virgil doing so, and an awkward silence passing over before patton forces himself to act scared. and, with that, virgil says to him, “put your pants back on, don’t patronize me”

like??? i felt that line. i felt it a lot. esp the “don’t patronize me” point. bc, honestly, virgil isn’t a child. he doesn’t need to be coddled. honestly, he probably would’ve rathered just been told “not scary” than have his best friend obviously overcompensate fear to placate him in a way that is kinda like a pity clap. i realize that wording might sound kinda harsh, but it’s kinda true. not like patton was actively trying to do that, it was just in his nature, but it still got on virgil’s nerves

and, yes, i feel bad for patton bc he’s trying his best, but i think i will always feel worse for virgil in this moment??? like idk if this is necessarily an unpopular opinion, but i’m gonna feel worse for the “injured party” than the one who did the “injuring” (using the terms loosely bc it’s not like patton is actively trying to piss off virgil)

and then another moment that stood out to me was when virgil was actually like, “patton, chill out!” or something like that. again, not rewatching the entire video, so idk exactly when it happens, but ik it happened bc i replayed virgil saying it one or two more times

and like...... okay i feel like we’ve been knew that idk where i’m going with this, but that’s another thing that i felt from virgil. like i can feel his frustration and his want to be taken seriously bc, as stated, it’s a lot like what i’ve felt w/ logan. and, as seen, his frustration was enough for him to be like, “patton, enough!” bc, honestly, to me, it seems like virgil just wants to be treated normally??? he wants to be treated like an equal friend and, w/ that, he doesn’t need compensation or pity. and, even if patton doesn’t mean for it to come off that way, it’s still how virgil is interpreting it. and i think he sees that patton’s trying, but it’s kinda like when he and roman were first fixing their friendship and roman would do 180 flips on his insults (”good at making virgil para-viGILANT!!! PARAVIGILANT!!!”)

like, i think what i’m trying to get at is......... if we were to break this down to it’s most oversimplified terms, im on virgil’s “””side””” in this one

and i think im thinking abt this so much bc i’ve seen a lot of posts almost like... looking past virgil in this??? which is shocking tbh bc, to be fair, so many of the logan/roman videos were interpreted to be abt virgil/patton and the moment there’s a virgil video, suddenly it becomes not abt virgil like, i’ve seen a lot of posts feeling bad for patton and thinking of the angst that can come from patton being told to chill out, and that isn’t bad!!! hell, i love patton, and i can see where people are coming from!!! this isn’t me bashing anyone!!!

but i do think it’s important to point out that, yes, patton might be struggling with the fact that he’s, well, struggling on how to work with his best friend in a way that is loving but also suitable for virgil, but virgil is the one who is the actual “injured party”? i use the term “injured” loosely bc, to me at least, it looked like virgil was more annoyed than anything but, again, speaking from experience, my own annoyance and aggravation eventually lead to me crying hysterically on one best friend and lashing out at another (all is well now tho so we good).

so i think what i’m trying to say overall is that, yes, i get where patton’s own confusion and such is coming from!!! it’s difficult to deviate from habits!!! but i think virgil’s part in this shouldn’t be overlooked. like, yes, patton has to learn how to adjust his type of love, which can be difficult, but virgil is the one who, frankly, seemed to feel kinda bad from it??? i mean, i can’t blame him, if i was called/treated like a child who needed coddling all the time, i would start to reach the end of my rope, too

this post got so away from me, im kinda hesitant to post it. basically, i really felt for virgil, im more concerned w/ how he’s doing, and i saw a lot of similarities between him and logan in that episode (even tho i wanted to tell logan to stop being a dick abt virgil not being able to “””do his job”””) (logan ily ur my fave side but u were a dick)

so, yeah, im really sorry if my shitty post made you lose braincells lmao, i kinda lost where i was going w/ this and just rambled

[desolate-rose]

Chapter 9 the outside world part one

So the last two years of agonising and fretting over the ramifications and consequences of my future knowledge, my replacement of the original zelda, the possibility of me dooming an entire world simply by being born, and the inevitability of fate. All of that, for nothing.

I can't implement an essential part of my plan, FOR FOUR YEARS. For the next four years the fate of AN ENTIRE WORLD rests on my tiny three year old shoulders, in making sure my mom survives. But it's fine. Im fine.

It's not like I can do anything about it either. I physically can't learn sealing magic until I'm seven- full stop. There is no way around that restriction. I had asked. Repeatedly. Even researching independently, with what little I could read of my ancestors' journals. Which was a thing apparently. Apparently it was tradition for royals, and nobles to write journals of their lives to help inform their descendants after their death. Neat! But a little awkward to be reading my grandmother's diary, also a lot useless. (apparently my mom had a habit of screaming at operatic volumes when she was a baby, like mother, like daughter!)

If there was one benefit to this information, I at least now have a rough idea of when my mom will die. Yay. (unless of course zelda's lessons were pushed back for some reason, so my info is relatively dubious. yay.)

So now the only facit of my plan I can focus on is making sure my mom stays alive, not like i wasn't going to do that any way but now its just ya know potently world ending. Without any backup plans. Again yay.

So my main mission (or should i call it a quest? I am in zelda after all!) is to keep my mom alive. No sweat.

-that doesn't mean i don't have other goals though! I want to learn everything I can about the culture, history, and MAGIC (ITS ACTUAL MAGIC PEOPLE) of Hyrule. I'm in a whole new world! I want to know everything.

Also magic is REAL! Who wouldn't be fascinated?

I was practically skipping toward the library with dottie at my heels, I had recently found a relatively simple cooking primer that touched upon the subject of the special effects certain ingredients could give. (i could actually almost read it without assistance! progress!) I hadn't got the chance to finish it last night because the adults had this stupid idea that i needed a bed time and that healthy little girls go to bed before eight.

Bha! I am-

….

I was a teenager. And if school taught me anything it was that your education was more important than your mental and physical health! Lives were on the line people! Who knows when i'm going to need this information!

But it was nowhere near bedtime now! And no one! No one was going to stop me from my research!

I stared in abject horror at the empty shelf.

My book! My research! MY ENTERTAINMENT!

Someone had taken my cooking primer and I was devastated. Normally i would move on and find something else to read but this had been the first book that talked about special ingredients that i could sorta understand! I NEEDED more interimentery books to read, they were either too simple or too complex. The middling books that pushed my boundaries without confounding me were Hard to find! At least ones that didn't speak down to the reader or bore me to death.

DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO FIND A PICTURE BOOK THAT ISN'T SOMETHING ALONG THE LINES OF "RED DOG RUN, BLUE SNAIL SLIME!?"

I stomped fuming over to the castle's resident librarian who was deeply engrossed in some thick tome or another, muttering dark curses under my breath and fervently praying it had just been shelved in the wrong section. Ignoring the increasingly worried maid servant trailing behind me.

Taking a deep breath i collected myself and tugged on the old man's long trailing sleeve "mister Tommison do you know where my book is?" I requested politely. I didn't want to alienate my book dealer.

He raised one elegant silver brow and peered down imperiously over his reading glasses. "And which book would that be my dear?" mr. Tommison was a tall, thin, well kept man whose stern intimidating visage could scare troublemakers and chatterboxes out of his library with a single long derisive stare. He was horribly overworked trying to catalog and organise our massive mess of a library and wasn't all that fond of children no matter how important they might be. (honestly the library was a MESS from centuries of collection, mislabeling, misshelving, and to be honestly hoarding every scrap of paper we could get our grubby hands on. we had far too many books for one man to keep track of properly, but he kept the few sections he had under control in meticulous order.) thankfully he had grown a soft spot for me after a few weeks of quite, polite company and careful treatment of his precious books. (at least the few that i could read.)

"Dalias cookbook for the common home, mister Tommison" i replied dutifully carefully enunciating the syllables. mister Tommison was not tolerant of ignorance.

He sniffed derisively "it was checked out by some stupid little squire, he had the gall to come here right after training and tracked mud absolutely every where." my heart sunk. The knight trainees were famous for playing rough with their things and dirtying the castle with mud and other such gunk.

Even I knew that and I really only talked to mister Tommison, granny, spots, mom and dad!

Who knew what sort of condition my poor book would be in when i got it back!

I needed to go talk to this squire about being careful with this book or at least waiting to ruin it until after i got the chance to read over it a few times!

"Thank you for telling me mister Tommison." "of course my dear" he nodded back at me before returning his hawk like gaze to his book. I turned around sharply and headed out of the library.

Now, off to the training grounds to find my book!

.

…

…..

"Dottie? Where are the training grounds" she muffled a snicker behind me. "This way my lady."

As it turns out the training grounds were on the edge of what would be considered the castle, almost as far away from the library as one could get while staying in the castle grounds.

And as i stood in the door way to the outside world i was starting to feel…

Trepidation.

The sun was hot, the field was loud, and I was standing at a distance in anxiety. It had been years since i had really been in a crowd, since i had really gone outside and interacted with anyone outside of my small circle of family and caretakers. In all honesty i was rather sheltered.

And this was scary.

It was loud, the clash of bodies, the screech of steel against steel, triumphant yells, angry shouts, and the bellow of commanders. Hylian ears are incredibly sensitive and this messy cacophony of violent noise was painful.

My instincts were screaming to hide. to cling to dottie and hide behind the one person I knew was safe. Everyone was so much bigger and stronger than i was. I was fragile, vulnerable, and uncertain. My toddler mind cried for the safety of Dotties skirts. To turn around and-

"I'm just saying it's weird!" a voice broke through my thoughts and drew my attention to two soldiers relaxing in the shade of the wall some distance from the door dottie and i were standing in.

"She's the princess mate, should you really be saying things like that?" a lackadaisical voice replied to the first unknown. "She's three! No three year old should be reading! I have a three year old sibling, she can barely string a complete sentence together! Let alone read! Its freaky mate, I'm telling you!"

I took an involuntary step back and dottie bristled.

"Shes got the blood of the goddess mate, their always doing strange things." the lazy soldier replied barely bothering to glance at his impassioned friend. "I don't hear about the queen being able to read at three. Her majesty's smart, not unnatural!"

Dottie started to move but i caught her skirt preventing her from moving any further

His friend laughed, "you're losing it mate- the future wisdom of Hyrule, too smart? Have you been adding the wrong mushrooms to your stew?" "jerk. You know i'm right! Its weird! What other three year old can read?"

"SOLDERS DOSE THIS LOOK LIKE A TEA PARTY TO YOU?!" the two men startled head swinging toward the approaching commander before freezing like deer in head lights.

"THIS ISN'T SOME SORT OF RELAXING GET AWAY SPOT! THIS IS A JOB- A DUTY! GET YOUR LILY WHITE BUTTS BACK ON THE FIELD AND GET TO WORK ON SOME PUSH UPS"

The first solder spoke up tentatively "how many sir?" "DID I ASK FOR QUESTIONS? YOUR GOING TO KEEP GOING UNTIL I SAY YOU CAN STOP. NOW DROP." "SIR YES SIR"

I turned my eyes to the fuming dottie, "Dottie lets go back inside." "But princess-" "can we just go back inside… please." dottie scooped me up into her arms. Normally i would fuss wanting the independence of being on my own two feet, but right now it just felt good to be held. "Ok. let's go back to your rooms princess. Its about time for your nap any way" she replied with forced cheer.

It wasn't anywhere near nap time but right now i just wanted to sleep.

Also on FanFiction.Net! https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13547505/9/

[abookwithnonames]

fiction.” I finish my song. I hit “Publish.” I lean back in bed, my head on my pillow at last, and dream. (10) YUGA “Jordan.” And dream. “Jorrrdan.” I dream of blue hair. “Jorrrdaaan.” I dream of uncertainty only I can fix. “Jorrr-fucking-daaan.” I dream of uncertainty I will not fix. siggggghhh “You picked literally the worst time to fall into a fantastical coma, now wake the fuck up!” And dream of trilithon kataleptikos mythyphallikos. “We get it, you don’t want to be a Fear! You being a Fear, in fact, would spell our total destruction in ways not even we are capable of the foresight to perceive! We accept this. I accept this. Do you hear me? You were right. But so were we, in the end: You are a Fear. So.. things don’t look good for our world.” I dream of the substantial makeup of Nothing, I touch it in my hands, I grab it with my mind (‘mab’ it?) and cry with laughter. “Please. Please. Oh, please. Please. Don’t make me beg. Not me. Not this time, just. ...please.” I dream of some other “RAEL!” Monday October 8th, 2018 7:10 PM The cold bend of empty space feasts grey as memories surge into place. Now it’s heat. Now it’s fire. The heat makes the mind. The fire makes the discipline. Where was I? Some cocoon. Forced entry... Grimaldi? “Graab.” What? 7:11 PM “You were in the Graab. How are you feeling? Can you breathe?” I. Yeah, uh. Yeah, I can breathe. Don’t know how; this looks like we’re out in the middle of space. “We’re in an air pocket.” In the middle of space? How does that work? That sounds dubious. “Oh, right. Let me stop everything and defer to the spatial understanding of one from a species who has left their planet, like, a grand total of twice?” It’s been more than twice, I’m certain of that. Space stations and shit. And we’ve sent drones and unmanned craft out way further than we ourselves have been. “In the grand scheme of things, dear? You’ve left your planet a grand total of twice. Once as humans, and once as machines. And in neither case were you brave enough to venture further than your own doorstep, although you at least carried binoculars with you. There’s a big universe out there. With things like air pockets. Now, please. Take a deep breath, and look at me.” Okay. deeeep breath Hi, Salmacis. “Hi, Rael.” I think I’m scared of you. “I. ..I figured.” Did you? “You’re not hard to read. Even when you try to be.” ... “Is that why you were scared of me? Because I can read you?” No. ... No, I’m scared of you because you’ve been enabling my drug habit. And because the world may be ending all over again, and you’re.. you’re scary when you’re scared. You were so focused on your rivalry with Tuonetar, on getting the others to listen to you, on doing whatever the hell you’ve been doing with all your Camper, you.. I thought you were losing control. And you.. well, you are my control. If you’re lost, so am I. “I see.” I’m sorr “No, it’s okay. Alright? It’s.. really okay. I’m sorry. I had told myself, convinced myself, after Rapture... that the next time things looked that bad, I would maintain trust. I don’t think I remembered to watch myself. I failed to do so. I have a responsibility to my universe. I.. need to do better.” But I “‘But’ nothing. You think you messed up your own responsibilities, so your self-hatred drives you to neutralize my sadness. But the safety of the world, that isn’t your responsibility. That was our responsibility, and we were so excited at the thought of having more help with that that we.. thought you could handle it.” I’m a Fear too, though. .__.;; “Oh, Rael...” That makes it my responsibility, y’know? “Yes, you are a Fear. But you still don’t know what that means. We failed to tell you.” You guys were stressed, I underst “‘Stressed?’ We’re better than that. We may get stressed, but that doesn’t have to take over all of our focus. We may have been the ones believing we were something we were not. We were acting like humans. We’re gods. And, seriously, take my word for it already, we failed you. We failed you, Rael, and we failed the young Thoth too.” Thoth. Eric? Is he in trouble? “I’ll get to that. I will. For now, I need to set the record straight. I need to tell you what kind of Fear you are.” Okay. 7:16 PM Salmacis has summoned a comet to propel our stationary bodies outward, away from the empty nucleus of our existence, towards the stars in redshift that are the stimuli we take as our food. As we drift: “Do you, at present, understand that there is more than one ‘kind’ of Fear?” Sorta. “Tell me, then. What is your understanding?” Uh. There’s the Red Fears, who came from Tuonela? And they’re somehow different from “Oh, wow, yeah you don’t know anything. That makes sense.” to herself, quietly “What did any of us think, that you would just suddenly know just because we told you you were gods?” now back to me “The Tuonelans are distant cousins of the Fears of your planet. They are still the same type, as their ancestors originated in the same place: Ancient Xanadu.” The Fears all came from Xanadu??? “Yes. ..y-yeah. ....you already knew that one, right? Surely you did. I hope you did, or I’ll feel like an idiot, as that’s exactly the kind of information I’m not really supposed to just dump on you without buildup.” Um.... let’s say I already knew it? I really want to know about the types of Fear. “Well. Unfortunately, this context is important. Bear with me.” goddammit I MEAN okay! “This story will be long, so prepare yourself. But it is about time I made it clear to you. This is the story of ancient Xanadu. First, there was a star, burning hydrogen and supporting a garden of rocks in orbit. Do you know what rocks are most known for, Rael? “Rocks? Uh. Being steadfast. Staying the same.” Transformation. “But.. rocks don’t--” --don’t what? Don’t change? Don’t crumble, don’t erode, aren’t pushed by each others’ forces, aren’t lured by gravity into massive cores, don’t mesh with each other, don’t become molten, don’t flow as liquid fire until the greatest planetary social dynamic has them rise out and arc in triumphant roaring majesty, stagehands of the majesty of life, the greatest show you’ll ever know, that grandest metamorphosis? Rocks transform. It’s all they ever do. “...well, okay, on such large time scales, sure. I wouldn’t say they’re most known for that, though.” More souls have known them for their inconstancy than have lived through human modernity, I guarantee you. Your species is the minority in a constellation of views. And this was true of the parasites who lived on the rocks orbiting that star, too. Oh, how I wish I could accompany you to Xanadu myself someday, point out the patterns in the worlds, and show you the handiwork of the oldest civilization in existence. Instead, I’m forbidden from seeing the skyroach with my own eyes; I can only observe its sights vicariously, through reports from wanderers like you. Can you imagine how that tears at me? I know enough, though. Any civilization, and indeed any universe, with that kind of longevity will gather a cloud of witnesses. It’s a sad and certain fact, even, that civilizations exceeding a critical influence on their universe will choke on the [CLOUD] poisonous volumes of hearsay and perspectives they generate. But the Vrai defied even death. “Vrai?” It loosely translates to ‘We.’ Ancestors of the Vraistellans, rearers of the abstract, by extension they were the proto-mind towards which too many later civilizations remain ignorant of their debt. Not that those ancestors would grieve over your ignorance. No, they’re snickering in their graves, as thanks to history’s recurring amnesia, their cleverest mechanisms can function without stutter. “Ooh. Some kind of machine? An unfathomably ancient machine, that still runs to this day?” Literally speaking, yes. Don’t get your hopes up, though. Any physical material the Vrai might have worked with in their time, they understood, would not last. Any fancy abstract creations, even their most invulnerable of ideologies, would only last as long as the Vrai themselves did before the children of their species made their own path. They needed something a bit more than that, and unfortunately they wouldn’t find it until their world had been torn asunder. “So. Not even the greatest poem?...” Not even art would survive the death of the universe. “Oh... “Wait. But I thought their universe was Xanadu? That universe didn’t die, in the end.” Oh, it didn’t. The universe defied death as well, for octillions of years it has survived, recycling its physical matter until life there now has a far more negative definition than it does for us. But Xanadu’s denial of death is not entirely the same as the Vrai’s survival. Against the Vrai, in their time, stood the Sten (“Inhabitants”), who revered above all their universe, which they called ‘Stendu’ (or “All-Inhabited”). This began with a dedication to their natural rock, a desire to keep it alive and protect it from those who would extort it for their own greed. “That’s noble.” It’s the right choice. But what of when the threats have been defeated? What of when the fallen once-greedy Eldritch people have been put under Vrai-designed checks and balances? “Um. I don’t know? Did the Stens think the Eldritch were still out to get them, or something?” Yes, but not by Sten nature did they believe this. There was a fourth people: The Planck. “Oh boy.” Shh. The Planck were the downtrodden, their name even coming from an Eldritch insult. They were the ones who took the brunt of their planets’ reactions to Eldritch greed. They weren’t given chances to object, let alone revolt. When the Sten overthrew the Eldritch for their crimes against the planet, it was a happy coincidence, and Planck were now in a better position in society. “Wait, I have a question.” Hm? “So the universe was Stendu, but what was the name of the planet?” Mum, “Ours.” One of the oldest Vrai words. “Huh. The Vrai liked pronouns a lot?” They reserved pronouns for proper names, as a matter of fact. Theirs were the first names for a great many things, and they felt no urge to revere names themselves, so few of their names were particularly grandiose. “Fascinating. So the Planck...” Yes, the Planck were at last liberated, and Mum was protected from environmental disaster. But damage had been done by Eldritch greed, both to the planet and to the peoples’ ways of life. Planck children had grown up under a nightmarish regime they could only refer to in retrospect as “Apocalypse,” and this had profound ramifications on their psychology. “I can imagine.” One child of the Apocalypse was Sanche. Even as late as aeons ago, the most thrilling debate in the Totality was that of Sanche’s motivations and conclusions, for they were an incredible figure, and they encouraged that cloud of hearsay as if having mastered it. I think... I think Sanche was made of legends. “Like. ..what do you mean? Sanche didn’t exist?” No, they empirically did. I think Sanche was the first, and certainly from such an early age, to consciously realize themselves as being made up of social constructs. Life under Apocalypse did that to many, it forced Planck beliefs-- Planck lives-- to submit to alteration, violent alteration, damaging so many minds in the process. Sanche, however, was not damaged by this treatment. Instead, they found.. self-realization in those fires. I’d even say they found a positive sense of identity in the confirmation of how fragile the “real” was. “So, like. This Sanche person, they realized the relationship between society and the myths that make it up?” Yes, and vividly, tangibly, excruciatingly. I’d even say spiritually. “So they’re made of legends, because they had no sense of identity beyond legends spread by others?” And a conscious mastery of them. In the time after Apocalypse, Sanche wielded that cloud of hearsay and toyed with it. “...this doesn’t end well, does it?” It doesn’t end at all. The people of Mum soon saw what Sanche was doing, the potential of what can be done when a trained mind can shape the words inside others’ heads. The Sten were the most conflicted by this discovery, as they considered hearsay to be a natural byproduct of society, and thus a part of nature-- “Yeah, that’s a logical conclusion to come to.” And it’s what most of Mum thought, in fact! But Stimpani, or ‘Sbomten,’ child of a former Eldritch leader and full of bitter resentment over the empire’s defeat, relished in this discovery. Here was a powerful new concept, one he could weaponize. He targeted the confused Sten societies, manipulating the people, encouraging the suspicion that this new “Planck invention” would spell doom. “And people didn’t question it?” Why would they, when for all they knew, these thoughts were their own, were the questioning? When the space in societal dialogue generally taken up by questioning of antagonistic sentiment was being used up by Sbomten’s additional input? “But. Nobody stopped and went, ‘hey, there’s this one guy who’s saying all this?’” No, because it was more than just Sbomten. He was the child of a powerful leader. He had connections, even in the aftermath of defeat. He laid out his plans for them regarding how they were to seize chunks of each society’s cloud, and they were more than bitter enough to oblige by passing the instructions onto their own connections, until at last the people introducing these thoughts to each cloud seemed so far removed from the Eldritch that it was borderline innocent. “I’d like to stop you again for a question, if that’s okay.” Certainly. “You keep mentioning the clouds. They’re not literal, right? They’re metaphors?” Yes! Absolutely just metaphors. But that’s the crux of its power, the power Sanche discovered and that was why Sbomten found it invaluable: The clouds weren’t literal, but those who acted as if they were were able to manipulate societies, as they were still metaphors for a real social dynamic. They could even hide behind the metaphor, admonishing their accusers for believing in something that “wasn’t really there.” This was Sbomten’s most insidious lie, and it was one he insisted had to be repeated every chance his speakers got. “Damn. Yeah, that’s evil.” Morally evil. Technically sound. Strategically, brilliant. Sbomten’s goal wasn’t to reestablish Eldritch rule, a point which defended him from further accusations at the time. To him the Eldritch, even his father the fallen emperor, were just more abstract pawns in a carefully managed theater of war. Sbomten had no sense of identity with the empire, no interest in what he saw as “withdrawing into a cultural stronghold for safety;” he intended on writing the future in his own name. This early on, he still retained a desire to actually help his species survive. He just had to.. rattle its cage first. “Wait, another question. What is his species? Isn’t he an Eldritch, like Sanche was a Planck?” Oh, no, no. Sorry. This is another point of contention, perhaps deliberately so: The four people-- Vrai, Sten, Eldritch, and Planck-- were of the same species. There is no single word for the species; each culture referred to it in their own culture’s name. You can just call them the proto-Vraistellans or something, if you like. “Okay. Do you happen to know what they looked like? Were they anything like humans, or is that just my self-centeredness speaking?” It’s difficult to be certain when I can only rely on legends and witness accounts. It’s likely  they were insectoid; though I’ve heard that their inner skeletons did, actually, resemble humans, they had a diverse range of exoskeletons which made them look and function more like giant bugs. “Eah. I’m glad you don’t have any pictures, then.” Surely you remember Cockroach Jesus. He was a descendant of that species too. “Of course. Difficult to forget. Say, where do the Fears come into all this?” Would you believe me if I said they won’t come in for a while yet? “Good god, this is a lot of context.” Let it be. You must take it all in, if you want to figure out your role as one. “Yeah, I know... what about you? Did you have difficulty figuring out yourself like this?” My story is... much harder to tell. I don’t even know if I’m capable of it. Someone else would have to try. Anyway, I’m returning to Sbomten. “Please do!”

[crystallinerays]

Give me everything about Desh. EVERYTHING. ALL OF THE NUMBERS. And then give me a character to do as well.

Well, i just came home from target with microwave pizza and a bottle of wine and I can’t think of better circumstances to talk about my favorite dumpster baby so here we go!

1. What is one thing others might find intolerable about them?

Other than their ridiculous upbeat attitude and kleptomaniac tendencies?

Maybe the fact that they leave their stuff everywhere. Come home from a mission and there’s armor strewn about the living room and kitchen and the stairs. A left on the bathroom sink, quiver of holding dangling off a door knob. One boot is in the front hallway and another is just chilling kicked off in her doorway. There are personal notes everywhere in a stupid variety of languages just left on any surface.

Like at first moving in with Desh seems find. They seem all neat and organized, but that’s because they didn’t own anything yet. Now, they’re really messy to live with, okay. There’s a method in the madness hidden deep in it, but like way deep.

(Desh’s room is fucking meticulous btw, it’s just all the shared spaces that they keep leaving their shit in. They want to make it super obvious that they live there, this is their house, and they’re comfortably not going anywhere.)

2. Do they have any annoying quirks? If so, what are they?

Does fidgeting count? Desh cannot stay still to save their life. Drumming fingers, tapping feet, taking off jewelry and fiddling with it (Desh wears a shit ton of rings like i do for just this purpose), spinning arrows, fucking around with knives, pacing.

Please imagine a Silver Council meeting where everyone is sitting down around a table and Desh is stalking  the perimeter of the room very seriously twirling a knife. It’s unnerving as fuck, but considering the current high stress situation it’s the only thing that really helps them pay attention.

that’s a quirk, right?

3. Name one or more of their bad habits.

Knives

Okay, I think we all know this kid is like the living personification of bad ideas being the only ideas. But honestly? Being an impulsive mother fuck.

4. Any addictions? (Food, sex, drugs/alcohol, shopping, power/control, etc.)

Sorta??? They’re a former drug addict. (And not just because some ghosts gave Desh and Thul opium addictions waaaaaay back when.)

I like to think when Desh and their brother were sold into slavery getting them hooked on opium or something was a good way of keeping them compliant and less likely to try and run away. They were cured of this once they were liberated (remove disease), but Desh did relapse for a while after witnessing Pezzack burn. They were a scared fucking nineteen year old kid fell in with the wrong crowd, okay? They left that behind and have been clean for a few years but like that was a thing that happened.

(all those nat 20s i rolled to cure their phantom addiction? maybe her Cayden taking mercy on her and being like “you’ve been through this enough, kid”)

5. What is one thing they do that can negatively affect their relationship with friends?

Well, they are rash and impulsive  and emotional and honestly doesn’t give a shit about hurting people’s feeling if what they think what they’re doing is Right, BUT I’m gonna say a bad habit of withholding information on this one.

Desh doesn’t like lying and believes in honesty above all things (and she’s the group’s spymaster. it’s impractical and a bit hypocritical yes I know), but she’s 100% behind not telling the full truth and withholding information to those she doesn’t think need to know it.

Like she’s not going to forwardly talk about her history and her wants and needs or why exactly Yewon bothers her (they don’t actually hate him it’s just... complicated? we haven’t quite unpacked that box yet, but it mostly has to do with his skill at lying and ability to easily manipulate and control people). But these are things they need everyone to know and might cause problems later on because they’ll interpret it as no one caring about them beyond their usefulness which is Bad™

6. Their romantic relationships?

I thought this was supposed to be about character flaws? This isn’t a flaw. Desh honestly considers meeting Ellia to be the single best thing that has happened to them since arriving in this hell hole of a fucking city. (Do not say this too loud around Reprisal or the bow I’m still trying to come up with a cool name for or the HOLY TANKARK OF INFINITE ALCOHOL.)

Fuck man, there’s someone who actually cares about them and like set them down to help them write an actual legal will. That’s probably the only legal document that Desh has relating to themself that wasn’t forged tbh. Like fuck I’m kinda tearing up just thinking about how much that would mean to them. How much Ellia means to them.

Desh fully intended to burn the whole city down if they had to back when dealing with Jill’s fucked up family and Ellia went missing. Like they would have done literally anything to ensure her safety or to exact vengeance and I just

And the stupid fucking pirate joke was so silly and pure like that honestly caught us both off guard.

But like she’s the only one who has asked Desh more than one personal question about themself and I am almost 100% certain that Desh would be completely and honestly open about her past and her family and her insecurities and everything with her. Like Desh communication is super fucking important in any relationship, but even more so to Desh and the fact that there is someone who cares. There’s no walls, no matter how stupid that might be.

Desh loves her. Like honestly loves her.

7. What is the biggest mistake they’ve ever made?

Going to Kintargo in the first place

Taking point on what they were fully aware of being an ambush and getting themself surrounded and then killed.

8. What mistake(s) do they continue to make/have not learned from?

It would be easier to list mistakes they have learned from tbh. Here’s one: don’t shoot at the faces of your teammates no matter how dope it might look.

9. Name some of their major physical shortcomings.

They can’t whistle or snap their fingers.

That’s the story and I’m sticking to it.

10. Some of their emotional shortcomings?

[takes a looooooooong drink]

boy howdy

They’re 24 years old and have heavy abandonment issues, lack a self worth outside of a price sticker slapped on them at an auction block (”463 gold for the pair”), depression, anxiety, ptsd. They never learned how to properly cope with most things. They’re fucking scared and constantly overwhelmed and nothing makes sense anymore. They never really got to be a kid and they’re kind of a total mess as an adult because of it.

11. What are their intellectual shortcomings?

That’s a bit harder to nail down??? Because something they’ve devoted their life and freedom to has been collecting knowledge. They’re fluent in 14 languages and know a lot of stuff about various entities they they might encounter in a fight. And they can probably tell you every myth and folklore from Rahadoum and Chelliax about dragons.

But honestly? People skills. They can sometimes be a bit of an awkward duck around people they’re not familiar with or in situations where they’re caught off guard.

12. At least one thing that they tend to overreact to.

SPIDERS

DESH DOES NOT LIKE SPIDERS

13. In what ways might they be overly negative and/or pessimistic?

One of the first things that y’all still ride me for is checking a cooking pot in Luculla’s house for the remains of children.

They were adamant about Thrune using his gifts to track the group’s movements.

As funny as Desh can be, her serious moments are very real and present and fucked up.

14. Is there anything they are too optimistic about?

[laughs for a solid fifteen minutes] Not anymore!

Their relationship probably. The whole rebellion not blowing up in smoke. Ending slavery in the region once it’s been liberated with no significant blow back. Being able to settle down and become a well adjusted person some day.

15. How might they be ignorant or prejudiced?

They have a problem with the word “evil”. Like everyone who is Evil is Bad. But like Ellia is Lawful Evil (last time I checked) and she’s not bad. She’s a good girlfriend and it was really complicated for a while but I think she’s kinda learning that sometimes people are just the alignment of their country by default and not Bad.

Or maybe it’s just Ellia. Probably just Ellia. She’s a beautiful outlier who should not have been counted.

16. Do they have any behaviors and/or beliefs that cannot be adequately justified?

I try and justify everything they do... I would have said their fear of spiders but... well... you kind of had a spider creature bite her face off so...

17. When would they be too judgmental of someone or something?

That time they fucking destroyed the imp.

When their first thought upon finding out that both Ellia and Luculla were missing was “Luculla’s behind this and I’m going to fucking skin her alive. She didn’t deserve me saving her life.”

18. Are they ever a pushover about something? If so, how?

She can go with the group’s mindset about most things like she doesn’t entirely give a fuck what they’re going to do as long as they can set up a decent groundwork for a plan first and no one innocent is being harmed outright.

19. Is there anything they refuse to budge on? What are they stubborn about?

Their stance on lying, control/manipulation, and slavery. That stance will never change. Ever.

But in general, once they’ve made up their mind about something they’re going to be stubborn af about it.

20. What is a self-inflicted misery of theirs? (i.e. something they perpetuate themselves)

Ooooooooooooh boy

Just read through this again. I’ve probably mentioned several.

[mangrovesaltswamp]

Coming to terms with so much.... The fact that I’m pretty sure I’m actually living with avoidant personality disorder and that Flint’s been the one with the borderline symptoms this whole time, and then recognizing the fact I probably do have obsessive compulsive on top of everything else despite the fact I’d dropped that consideration months ago

when I look at the repeated problems I’ve had, everything boils down to either: 

1) I could not bring myself to speak up when I needed to so when I finally did react in a firm way, it came across as too sudden and more upset than I otherwise would have. Generally letting people push me until I snap because I think that’s what I deserve. Acting in a way that allows me to be a punching bag for others until I can’t take it anymore.

2) Being unwilling or unable to express even feeling “”negative”” emotions. Impulses to cover up any negative feelings toward someone with a cringe inducing, overly chipper attitude to hide the fact I’m actually super upset. Shrinking away from anger expressed towards me when I’m not expecting to receive it, normally seems to mainly occur when I’m legit caught off guard. 

3) My incessant, suffocating chase after personal perfectionism, attention to details, efficiency, along with my own mental control. It explains me being a workaholic and it explains my extreme life-long problems with interpersonal communication. Also likely related to my ritualistic actions and when those aren’t taken, feeling itchy and as something Bad™ will happen if I don’t-do-the-thing.

4) Probably also explains why it took literal years before I could break my habit of not being able to handle not posting in perfect-textbook-English-grammar because my head would scream at me wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong until I went back to make edits on my text. The resulting shame that followed when I couldn’t explain to someone why it felt like such a big deal to me.

5) My sheer inability to stay socially consistent and somewhat not wanting to do that to begin with. The fact that its taken months for me to even sorta reliably text my partners because establishing that routine with anyone scared me half to death. Being very tough-and-go with friendships, even with people I view as very important to me or close, because I automatically assume I am intruding on others by merely existing.

6) Constant, physically damaging pain when I am not under control or express myself in ways because of my emotions that I hadn’t intended. Chest palpitations, varied breathing changes, migraines, blood pressure, muscle tension, vision blurring, and so on in reaction to stress when my brain believes I haven’t performed in an acceptable manner even if nothing actually unwanted comes out of it.

7) Behavior from me revolving around the entire concept that I am inherently replaceable to others. Less of it being a fear with the emotions tied to it and more of a ever present, deep seeded acceptance. And yeah, that also does go hand-in-hand with my post traumatic stress disorder reactions. It’s honestly far more of a tired resignation than it is a fear response.

8) The fact I always crave social critique to begin with because I’m always under the impression there is a Right and a Wrong way of doing so and that I, as an individual, somehow have no authority to decide this on my own because I don’t trust my own perception of the world around me. I view other people’s opinions and experiences are carrying more weight than my own.

9) The fact I assume any and all messages, no matter who it’s from, to be a source of danger. Opening messages or social media, alerts on anywhere, creating a fear response because I’m convinced it’ll be something hurtful. Opening messages, even from people I think I trust, takes will-power energy out of me to accomplish.

10) I’ll refuse to use specific words because they “”look Wrong”” to my brain. Words that require the combining of already existing words in particular. Words like “underpin / under . pin” or “starfish / star . fish” or “windmill / wind . mill”. Certain English words are somewhat painful for me to look at for too long because of my brain’s Wrong! screaming reaction.

11) I kid you not, I’m literally willing to drive to entire other store that is miles away from convince because there’s no way I can use the Wrong! shaped hangers in my closet. Putting up clothes hangers that don’t look identical to the ones I already use would be sacrilegious, right? [insert sarcastic tone here]

12) My unwillingness to discard broken, old, or worn out items because my brain tells me I might need it again someday. Old sneakers with large enough holes at the bottom that I can wiggle three fingers in it? Still own it for some reason. English and math papers from school back when we were only around fourth grade? Obviously I need to keep that! What if I want to go back to study it later, I say. Cords from electronic chargers that I’ve already proven are broken and of no use to me? Still taking up space on bedroom floor. It’s absurd and I couldn’t even see that for the longest damn time.

Also, boy howdey, if this entire paragraphs isn’t me crystallized in text form:

“Perception of one's own and others' actions and beliefs tend to be polarised[citation needed] into "right" or "wrong", with little or no margin between the two. For people with this disorder, rigidity could place strain on interpersonal relationships, with occasional frustration turning into anger and even varying degrees of violence. This is known as disinhibition.[8] People with OCPD often tend to general pessimism and/or underlying form(s) of depression.[9][10][11]This can at times become so serious that suicide is a risk.[12] Indeed, one study suggests that personality disorders are a substrate to psychiatric morbidity. They may cause more problems in functioning than a major depressive episode.[13]“

along with,

“Millon's subtypesTheodore Millon identified five subtypes of the compulsive personality (2004).[15][16] Any compulsive personality may exhibit one or more of the following:Conscientious: (Including dependent features) Rule-bound and duty-bound; earnest, hardworking, meticulous, painstaking; indecisive, inflexible; marked self-doubts; dreads errors and mistakes.”

plus there’s,

“OCPD is characterized by eight behavioral or personality traits: rigidity and stubbornness, perfectionism that interferes with task completion, hypermorality and scrupulosity, overattention to detail, miserliness, an inability to discard worn or useless items, excessive devotion to work, and an inability to delegate tasks (APA, 2013). When recast in the alternative model of the DSM-5 as self and other-oriented, these were noted to reflect: difficulties in identity (sense of self derived predominantly from work or productivity; constricted experience and expression of strong emotions), self-direction (difficulty completing tasks and realizing goals, associated with rigid and unreasonably high and inflexible internal standards of behavior; overly conscientious and moralistic attitudes); along with difficulties in empathy (understanding others) and intimacy (work and rigidity interfering with relationships); accompanied by personality traits of rigid perfectionism (must be present), perseveration, intimacy avoidance, and restricted affectivity.”