#the rest of the party catches on and soon at any given time someone is affectionately touching billy

[cavinginhisfvce]

Hopper, casually ruffling Billy's hair: You did good kid! I'm proud of you.

Billy, bewildered: The hell did you just do to me?

Hopper, lowering his hand: I just tousled your hair. Ain't nobody ever done that to you before?

Billy, grabbing Hopper's wrist: Keep. Going.

[coralinnii]

Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy feat: Floyd genre: humor, budding romance note: set in the same universe as previous works (Azul’s and Jade’s ver specifically), no pronouns were used, villain/ess!reader is not a merfolk, 1.6k word count, use of non-canon family name (I’ve officially adopted you),

My wifi is on the fritz again so going online hasn’t been easy but hopefully I can get it working again soon. I’ve been hiding in cafes but my wallet isn’t appreciative because I don’t like going into a cafe and not order anything T_T. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy our number 1 crazy eel boi

Series masterlist

You’re contemplating your life choices as you wonder what on Earth you did to deserve this. You can’t remember what happened that brought you into this world you once thought fictional but you were aware of how you’re probably gonna leave this world if the story stays in its original path.

You were a nameless mob character who was caught in the crossfire of your imbecile brother. During a party, your brother started bragging about your father who was a famous knight and started a knight training program after being given the title of baron, which grabbed the attention of the dangerous son of a marquis family, the Floyd Leech. Since then, the merman would suddenly visit your home to curiously watch the training while your brother continues to brag and even starts talking about how close he is to the notorious Leech family son who, while not the heir, was in line to inherit a great bit of land and some “business assets” from his father.

Your younger brother didn’t think that associating yourself with a family of suspicious background was too bad…until a rival of the Leech family invaded their home and proceeded to interrogate your family for information on the Leech household. Obviously knowing nothing, the rival family ended you and your mother’s future in anger. Your father, heartbroken and weakened by the lost of his beloved and one of his children, collapsed and became bedridden.

Still, you couldn’t hate your brother no matter how foolish he was, especially when he begged Floyd in tears to avenge his family, only to be ignored by the eel merman. “How is it my problem?” He cruelly said as he dismissed your brother to deal with his broken family.

You grew cautious, wary of people associated with the Leech household and any other noblemen that aligned themselves with them, which included the Golden Count Ashengrotto with his new partner, and that family that recently arranged an engagement with the Leech family heir with their only child.

You also taught your younger brother to learn when to hold his tongue, your family’s business is your own and avoid excessively bragging to others as it lures unpleasant leeches (he thought you meant metaphorically).

Then you explicitly told him not to interact with anyone from the Leech family, especially Floyd. You were willing to smack him over the head to get that warning across, telling him, “To him, we’re just toys. Not friends”

This was a clear solution, just don’t meet Floyd…or Jade…and have anything to do with that crazy eel family and your future is secured. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

Then one day, at a party…

The night was going well. Your younger brother found a clique of his own to interact with so you didn’t have to worry about catching the attention of a certain someone. Although, while you saw Jade mingling with the crowd, you haven’t seen even the shadow of the other Leech which worries you somewhat. However, you chose to let your guard down to enjoy the ambiance of the party. You deserve to have some fun too.

Some time has passed and soon you felt your body growing tired of all the socialising. You wandered around alone to find a secluded room to rest while contemplating whether you should call it a night. Typically you stay behind until your brother was ready to leave together as to keep a watchful eye over him. But since he’s been on his best behaviour, you wondered if you’re really needed. But then, voices then disrupted your train of thought as you heard someone speaking from the other side of the closed doors of the room you were occupying.

“If you need some time to rest, Sir Leech. I suggest one of these rooms my master has prepared” someone whom you assumed to be a servant spoke but that’s not what concerned you. Did he say Leech?!

A mental battle was going in your head as you assess your situation. Which Leech was it? (Does that matter?) Should you stay? (No!) How would you get out?? (!!)

You looked around in panic as you prayed for maybe a door to a conjoining room, maybe a bathroom to hide in until he leaves. You then looked to the balcony and without a second thought, pulled the doors open. You were on the second floor which wasn’t too bad. The balcony faced the back of the house towards the back garden which meant no one should be there to witness you climbing down. You’ve seen enough parkour videos that you figured you could come of this unscathed.

But the logical part of your brain is pulling you back, telling you that this absolutely reckless, stupid really. You can imagine your dumb brother doing this but your parents urge you to be the level-headed one of the two of you (which you like to argue on, why do you have to be the responsible one?).

But before your senses could come to you, you heard the knobs of the room door shaking, and you decided that you only live once.

So jumping, it is.

Without looking down (in fear of your nerves winning), you leapt off the railings of the balcony and braced for impact. Your clothes flutter loudly in the air as you try to push the fabric from your eyes to watch your landing. But instead of the marbled flooring, you were met with a pair of surprised heterocromatic eyes.

Floyd was sighing in irritation as schools of bottom feeders noblemen rushed over to him and his brother (mainly his brother) in hopes to find themselves in good graces with the Leech household. Jade may have a better facade going but Floyd was having a harder time not to snarl and squeeze the living souls out of these suck ups. In this pompous tank, no one was worth his attention. So, Floyd figured he could kill some time away from the mindless minnows and walk towards the backyard of the mansion, maybe chill out in a tree until his brother finds him.

In no imagination he had thought of for today did he expect to see something - or someone - flying down towards him in a mass of fabric fluttering in the wind. With quick reflexes, the ocean-haired man raised his arms and swiftly caught your waist through the mess of your clothing but momentum still won against the two of you as Floyd fell backwards with you, crashing onto the ground rather unceremoniously. His anger building quickly, Floyd raised his head about to take a good look at the crazy human he’s about to squeeze. But like how quickly his anger started, it immediately extinguished when he did take a good look at you.

He saw you, a flushing mess slightly shaking from your reckless decision to literally take a plunge off the second floor. Your hair in a disarray from the wind and likely the landing as well. And your eyes that Floyd found himself watching in intrigue as a swirling range of emotion was evident in your expressive face. Most visually present was your look of fearful realization.

Floyd Leech. Out of the billions of people you could ever meet, you ended up bumping…ah no crashing into the most unpredictably violent man in this world. Granted, you’re glad you survived your frankly dumb behavior but to be saved by the man that would be your future downfall was just proof that the world was messing with you for sh*ts and giggles.

“Hey you” you let out a small shriek as you hear Floyd call out to you slowly, reminding you of a shark slowly swimming its way to you for a meal, though really what difference is there? “What’s your nam-“

In an act of reckless desperation (your second one already), you didn’t let Floyd finish his question as you rolled over to the side, twisting your body out from the merman’s grip. Disregarding your absolute messy appearance, you sprinted your way away from Floyd who was still on the ground, rounding the corner of the manor to dash towards your carriage. You’ll tell a servant to inform your brother of your early departure later. You just needed to disappear from the menace’s sight immediately.

Though there was no real hurry as the menace in question chose not to pursue as he preferred to watch you flee in such a cute manner, entertained by the way you sped off like a prey in chase.

“Floyd, are you alright?” a familiar voice called out to him from above to which he then recognised and looked up to see his brother on the second floor balcony, the same general area you appeared from, immediately understanding where you came from.

Huh, you just got more interesting.

Floyd ignored his brother’s concern and asked a question back, “Hey Jade, you got any idea who that flying fishie was?”

The Marquis heir, who noticed the opened balcony doors, managed to glimpse upon the fascinating human who not only took a chance at jumping off the second floor, but also managed to intrigue his brother enough to escape his grasp…for now.

“I cannot be certain but I believe that was the first born of the Linni family. The youngest child is still here if you would like a chat with him” Jade oh so generously offered his knowledge to his brother, knowing full well that Floyd has started itching to sink into something fun. And what kind of brother would he be to interfere in his brother’s joy?

Floyd grinned, his sharp teeth visually showing. He got back onto his feet and with one more look towards the path you fled to, walked the other way, back into the manor and towards the party area where he was giddy to have a chat with your brother. You can flee for now, Floyd loves a worthwhile chase.

[justadeadreaper]

Powers were the hardest of all the Angels to get close to which made it all the more difficult to learn about them and furthermore understand them and the contradicting nature that controls their existence. When Powers were together in large groups on the battlefield or even when they were resting in their barracks in Heaven they seemed to be made up of a collective hivemind, all acting as if they were appendages of the same body tasked to do different things that when put together made complete sense to them but only them alone. But, when alone they seemed to be numb, almost nonexistent as they would stand there watching everything else, only moving or talking when it was deemed necessary or whenever there was a Demon around.

The only emotions that other Angels ever noticed in the Powers were normally either nothing at all or an unstoppable violent rage that would be more fit for someone like Satan to use. Although in secret, surrounded in the safety of the others of their kind or even just when they were alone with people they trust, Powers were seen to display two other emotions, grief and comadiary. If another Power they were close to had the unfortunate demise of dying at the hands of a Demon the Powers that were closest to it would build a shrine for their fallen at which they would mourn and cry at what they had lost. While on the other side of the spectrum, if they had a glorious battle where thousands upon thousands of Demons were killed they were known to privately celebrate with each other by having their own parties and telling jokes to one another as they enjoyed the taste of their friendships and victory.

It was rare for a Power to be by themselves even if it was a task given by the higher-up Angels, except for a rare few cases of Powers that voluntarily stayed alone as if they had been outcasted by the rest for doing something wrong which would not get them kicked out of Heaven but was looked down upon by the others.

If you would ask any Angel if they knew of a Power that voluntarily stayed by itself, most would answer no but if you met the rare few that had witnessed the aftermath of an encounter with him they would all give you the same name.

The Ghost.

No Angel knew his real name, it was believed he did not have one, the only name that he had was the nickname that had been given to him by the other Powers and by Demons. And that nickname was earned, well earned.

He was said to act like a ghost, hiding in the shadows as it stalked its prey like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce. A being that could be there for one second but as soon as you moved your head to look somewhere else even if it was for less than half a second, when you turned your head back to see him once more he would be gone. Although you could always tell when he was around as the room was completely cold, devoid of any noise as a shiver would rattle through your spine to put every hair on edge. Each sense would be on edge to see if they could catch any sign of him but all of those attempts would be futile as time seemed to stop around him, and he was silent to the point that everyone who had encountered him thought he was mute as no noise would ever be produced by him. Some Angels would joke that the name Wraith would be better suited for him as he was as violent as one, known to rip the heads off of Demons he fought with his own bare hands if he was not bothered enough to use a weapon, if he was command to wipe an area of all the Demons or other enemies that resided there by the time he was done there would be none left.

It would be agreed upon by anyone that heard about him that he was strange even for a Power. Alone and silent. What made it far worse would be the fact that no other Powers seemed to know where he came from. He was an anomaly. No star could be matched to him, it was speculated that he would have come from a star that either surrounded Venus or Mars like most other Powers but no hatched star had an undocumented Angel. Each star hatched around the areas was matched to a Power in their documents, dead or alive or even fallen. Some Powers had taken it upon themselves to go through every Power that had ever emerged to see if any that were believed to be dead or missing would be able to match to him but they found none that even came close. While cockier Powers that were higher in rankings from the amount of Demons that had been slayed by the swords had gone to challenge him to a fight. Those fights had only forced him into a deeper isolation as the Powers all stood defeated with egos so bruised that they would be mistaken to be the lowest and weakest of the Powers with how their confidence was shattered into pieces that would amount the number of the stars, and as anyone would know if you were to bruise the ego of people who believed themselves to be better you would suffer at their hands as they would try anything to gain back the power they thought to have lost through the humiliation. They convinced any Power that would listen to ostracise him from the rest as he was violent and did not care about hurting others of his own, hypocritical as they had been the ones to go for a fight but they did not tell anyone that they had asked for the fight as it only made it all the more easier to paint him as different, to secure their goal made purely from spite. It was painted that he would have not cared about being ostracised and outcasted as he had started it himself. Most tended not to care as he was just a mystery that would distract from their role. No name, no backstory. If he wanted to be outcasted then they would only follow by the example he set. Why would they bother to care when he did his job like the rest, not to forget how effectively he would do the job as he had already accumulated a large number of vanquished Demons.

By all definitions, he was a nobody. A Power that seemed to have randomly appeared one day to kill all Demons with no desire to interact with anyone. No story or life to be focused on. No connection to other Powers as for some reason no other Power was able to mentally attach to him with their hivemind-like link as all that tried seemed to be overwhelmed with a headache that was as agonosing as being stabbed with the unholiest of weapons as all they seemed to see was blood stained claws or nothing inside his mind.

It even got to the point that it was debated over what he looked like as those who did see him never lived to tell the tale but there were rumours of there apparently being two as the Angels that had been luckily, or well unlucky, enough to have seen him had described his armour in the same way but the rare few details they gave of his body would look either one of two ways even if it was just about his hair colour or his height.

The Ghost did not wear the normal armour like the other powers did instead of it being made of the holy light and shell of stars his was instead made of the bones of Demons and the Netherstone that formed on the borders of Hell at which the Angels and Demons would fight at. He wore the skull of a Demon over his face instead of a helmet as the small cracks in the skull allowed people to see small glimpses of his face if they dared to get close enough. Then covering his body was a unique set of armour that was unlike the armour of the other Powers that tended to be styled in the fashion of gladiator or mediaeval armour that was usually decorated with carvings of long forgotten battles, runes of lost tongues, or the sweetest of flowers. Over his head, obscuring his mask to a degree was a loose black hood that connected to the loose black fabric that was fashioned around his body; the fabric had been fashioned into a sleeveless and buttonless trench coat with the hole for his left arm dropping just below the elbow as the long fabric dragged behind him before it pulled up at a point as the right side was not worn normally but instead draped over his shoulder to cover his right pec before crossing over to hide his left ribs before it tied off by Netherstone chains to keep it secure in place as the fabric that was left continued to drape down his side. The “trousers” he wore was actually just a simple piece of loose fabric similar to a long shirt that gave his legs and other parts the perfect amount of freedom he needed when fighting. It hung to his body by Netherstone chains that were thrown over his left shoulder as it was draped in such a fashion that it exposed some of his thigh and his hips but kept what was in the middle a secret. A full rib cage and spinal cord lay on top of the fabric as it was decorated with cracks filled with Netherstone as the ornaments on his shoulders were made from several shoulder blades  that fanned out to take the appearance  of wings as they were connected to the collarbone he also wore. And from out of the fabric that draped from his right shoulder was a singular piece of armour that was fashioned to look like the armour of other Powers even if it was made from Netherstone, it covered his right arm as it itself was covered in splinters of bone leaving only fragments of the metal exposed. Both of his hands and his left arm had been covered in bandages but the claws that ended his hands were still visible as to inflict damage onto his enemies. Nearly all the fabric was riddled with cuts and holes from the numerous years of fighting they had withstood as more chains were draped around his body.

Most would agree that with his armour on he closely resembled a Fallen Angel or an Angel of Death or even the mostly extinct Watchers, due to most falling a long ago, as his attire bore a resemblance to all three but it was easy to tell that he was a Power as out of his head sprouted horns that fused together at the top to create a halo that was fused into the body as it casted out a blinding light. But another staple of Powers that he had was a sword that could burst to life with a flame made of light that was specifically given to Powers to be able to kill Demons.

But under the armour was what you would expect from any Power but with some very noticeable differences. Most that had seen strands of his hair would debate on if it was a messy, greyed blonde or a dark brunette but next to his hair were two small wings instead of ears that seemed to be sewn on, but nevertheless the smaller wings matched the four much larger wings that were attached to his back, each feather was white but seemed to be greying as when the light hit them they seemed to reflect back the colour black. With one set of baby blue eyes and another set of eyes below it that were pure black and oozed out a black goo as if the eyes were crying while it seemed as if he was smiling even if his scarred lips were frowning as he had the scar of a Glasgow smile engraved into his cheeks. Covering his whole face seemed to be a faded imprint of a skull that had been decorated on by a mixture of coal and chalk; all was included like the fangs and other teeth to sockets formed around all four of his eyes. The imprint did not seem to be made by a professional and could only be seen if you were close enough to his face to feel his breath as most of the powder that had once been so bright had lost its vigour over the eyes as he never seemed to repaint over it. It was obvious he had the build of the Power as like most he was bulky as he could be, he was most definite larger than most as his chest was the size of two Powers put side by side but his height was debated on if he was as tall as the largest mountain ash tree or just a few feet shorter than it. His pale body was riddled with scars as covering his left hand, his left arm, both of his feet and calves, and most of the flesh above the left ribs was a moving black ooze that seemed imbedded into his skin, it was as if someone had pushed ink into his skin and let it spread out as it would do in water to make ornate patterns as it curled around his muscles and turned his nails to claws. A slightly spectral aura seemed to cling to his form as sometimes when the light hit his body he seemed see through as if he was merely a hallucination on the spot as it also seemed to make him seem as skeletal as his armour even with all his muscle to contest such an idea.

His appearance matched his personality. It was just as mysterious with odd additions of unknown origins that seemed to appear out of nowhere just as he did. It truly made him.

The Ghost.

Taglist: @frogchiro @diejager

[callsign-mongoose]

Bachelorette Bookclub

Pairing: Robert "BOB" Floyd x Reader (No use of Y/N)

Warnings: Drunk brunch with your brides maids, They are kinda bitches, a couple sexual jokes but most of this is fluff.

Word count: 1.5k (It's just a little Blurb)

Essentially, your celebrating your bachelorette brunch with your girls and the question of how you and your fiancé met comes up!

A/N: I just thought this was a cute idea! I've been struggling with writers block recently so please help if you have any ideas you really want someone to write! Send them to me!

On to the show

Mimosa buzzed giggles were being shared in the corner of the booth. Your closest girlfriends sitting around enjoying their 4th glass in their ultimately bottomless mimosas. 

Girl brunch had always been a part of the schedules no matter how they changed. Besides, no one was going to miss out on your bachelorette party. It was a rather simple idea, everything about the wedding was simple and you and your fiancé Bob liked it that way.  A girls weekend at a nearby hotel, it was more about enjoying the time spent together than getting plastered bar crawling for one night. 

From just over the flowerbeds sectioning off the patio of the restaurant from the rest of the hotel, a crowd of guys came bounding through wearing their swim trunks and holding towels chanting, “Pool Bar! Pool Bar! Pool Bar!” The group seemed to be almost carrying one man in the middle who seemed like he was simply embarrassed to be there. His cheeks all red, shaking his head laughing as his friends continued to pull him down the hall. 

It was your man, your fiancé, your Bob. You never knew how he managed to stay so docile and sweet when surrounded by so many brash impulsive men. You had become close with the rest of Bobs team, Natasha was a given, she was the first right of passage, everyone else was just entertainment. As much as you loved them, they weren’t anything that you’d want to spend every day with. 

Your friends had started to giggle once again as they watched the horde of a Batchelor party run by. “He really is… a catch hon.” Lydia, one of your bridesmaids commented before turning to Adyson giving her a look. It was very clear her words were condescending, and it wasn’t appreciated. “Yeah… babes you could have done so much better, look at him, has he ever had fun a day in his life? He looks like the human embodiment of a piece of paperwork… his friends are hot though and look like so much fun.” A fit of laughter and sexual comments erupted from the group of drunk women as they fawned over Bobs coworkers. 

“Hold on, hold on, we need to at least let her defend her pick.” Lexi, your maid of honor spoke up, clearly not having the rest of the parties’ rude comments. “Remember who the one getting married is, at least our bride can hold a stable relationship.” Lexi shot Adyson and Lydia a look that made them immediately shut up as they had both been known to find new lovers every week. “Why don’t you tell them how you and Bob met, that’s such a cute story. It perfectly encapsulates the relationship you have with your soon to be Hubby.” 

A light flush crossed your cheeks, grateful that Lexi had been able to reign in the chaos that had been caused by the alcohol, “Fine fine, I’ll tell it… I’m surprised you can’t recite it yourself by now Lexi” You teased placing your mimosa glass down. 

“Well, it started because I was hunting down a book for a class that I was taking. A recommendation from the professor…”

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

“Haust, Heidi, come on where’s Heinlein.” Your fingers brushed over the spines of the books as you glanced at the authors names. The authors name sounded so foreign in your mind now that you had repeated it about 10,000 times over trying not to forget. 

The spine had been worn in but the name of the book could be read enough to tell, that was it, The Tunnel In The Sky. Lifting your hand to pull it off the shelf a larger hand grazed over yours, rough finger pads just barely kissing your knuckles before pulling away. “Oh.. sorry, I didn’t realize-“ 

He was handsome, but that was one of the last things you noticed about him. Eyes scanning his plain gray crewneck, then to his dark blue baseball cap, noticing how his hair was peaking out around the sides, very clearly pushed down against his head. Blue eyes seemed to fit the man, captivating and friendly, even if his facial expression was concerned about their interaction.

Perhaps the most interesting about him was the fact that the stranger hadn’t even tried to grab the book again, simply stepping back to allow you to take dibs, pulling it off the shelf. 

“It seems like we’ve both got good taste huh?” You said trying to break the rather awkward silence that had thickened between the two of you. 

The man gave a chuckle that reassured you he was just as nervous as you seemed to be about the situation. “Yeah… are you familiar with it?” He asked gesturing towards the book that was now in your hands, “Someone’s definatly read it plenty of times, the spines been subjected to lots of love.” 

You milled the book over in your hands, fingers tracing the spine now that the stranger had mentioned it. “Yeah…” Your mind wandered for a moment before you realized there was a first part to the question the man asked. “Oh! Uh, no no, it’s my first time reading it actually. I’m taking a history class right now over at SDCC (San Diego Community College) and my professor mentioned the book during a lecture and I got curious.” Feeling like you had talked far too much about yourself, you swallowed shallowly, “Um, what about you? Do you know much about it?” 

The stranger just shook his head, “No, not really, just the basic synopsis I read online… I’m actually reading it off of a recommendation too. I tend to stick to Non-Fiction books, and my friends sorta tease me for it… in a good way,” he added quickly. “Anyway, my best friend suggested this book as a good way to kinda, get out of my normal comfort zone. I’ve been trying to expand my horizons lately.”

Your nose wrinkled trying not to giggle, “So reading a different genre of book is expanding your horizons? No offence but it doesn’t seem like you live a very fast paced life.”

“You have no idea.” His head shook and it was clear something about the situation was ironic to him. 

The interaction could have ended there but you weren’t quite ready to say goodbye to the handsome stranger quite yet. Besides, there hadn’t been any decisions that decided who’d get the book. 

“Here,” You tried to offer holding the book out for the man to take, “I don’t need to read it right now, I can always just rent it later, it’s no big deal.”

The man shook his head gently pushing the book back into your grasp, “Your doing it to farther your education and understanding, I couldn’t get in the way of that.” 

“And your trying to expand your horizons and tastes, that’s important too.”

After a tense moment of silence and a range of eye movements to try to encourage the other to take the book, the man’s lips broke into a smile, eyes shifting to the book shelf. “Okay… how about this, a benefit to us both. We take turns, make it kind of a book club thing.” He offered smiling. “We read a chapter or two, then switch off, once we each read a couple chapters we meet for lunch, and talk about it?” He offered with a hopeful smile. 

How could you resist, intellectual conversation with a handsome guy over lunch? Yes please. “Alright, that sounds like a deal…” You pulled out your phone, handing it to the man to put his number in, once returned to you, it was quick to go into your pocket. 

Attention turning back to the man who had put himself into your phone as Bob Floyd, you noticed him reaching back up to the shelf for something. He grabbed another book, a second copy of “Tunnel In The Sky”, a grin spreading on his face, “Huh… another copy, weird.” 

You laughed quietly “guess we went through all that trouble of making a plan for nothing huh?”

“Not necessarily, perhaps I just chose to ignore the second newer copy in favor of the well loved copy and the opportunity to talk to a beautiful girl.” The grin on his face said it all, he was being confident, but it was new to him, and it suited him well. 

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

All the girls around the table had been lulled into having their hands on their chins like children gathered for story time. “Aww, all that just to talk to you? How cute.” Adyson said her lips curling into a grin.

 “It worked didn’t it?” You responded holding up your left hand with the engagement ring on it, “He’s perfect guys, I couldn’t care less if he’s a bit timid. Bobby shows when it really counts.” 

What was a warm and tender moment quicky changed as Lexi pretended to hide her mouth to comment “He show’s out in the bedroom too.” 

A shriek escaped you as you slapped Lexi’s hand from her mouth in a playful manner as the rest of the girls laughed.  So what if Bob wasn’t the biggest, or the loudest, or the most smooth. He was yours, and that was all you could have asked him to be. 

[cinnamonest]

Yandere twst - Jamil

Taking this as an opportunity to make a post for my boy!!! Similar to the last one I'm going with a "consensual relationship that quickly takes a turn for the worse," I am liking the dynamic >:3 Important note that you should probably read the last one for Kalim prior to this one (I originally intended to release it as one post but ended up dividing it bc both were like 12k+ words lmao), so this one makes several references to the other one.

Previous entries for twst series:

[Kalim]

[Floyd]

//manipulative bastard behavior/moderate yandere, somewhat dark, bullying, mind control, I think there might be implications of fem reader iirc

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

The first interaction you have with Jamil is only a few brief moments. A conversation in passing, the sort of empty casual exchange that is normally more or less forgotten by both parties before the day is even over.

He's pretty aware of his surroundings at all times, so he sort of saw you walking over out of the corner of his eye, working himself away making food and setting up arrangements and venue as per usual for some function or another that Kalim decided to hold at the last minute on the main campus grounds . Bouncing from one task to the next. But several others have passed by already without a word, so it catches him a bit by surprise when your steps come to a halt, when you speak.

You know, every time I see you, you're always working on something. Don't you ever rest?

Your tone is that sort of endearing, amused way of speaking, but still seems to express a genuine sentiment. You're not exactly spending idle time either -- you have some box or package in your hands, headed somewhere to drop something off. Who knows what compelled you to say something, on this one occasion in particular, to voice the observation you've made quite a few times now. Spontaneous, spur of the moment.  A decision made with casual impulse.

His eyebrows raise, but it doesn't take him more than a moment to formulate a response. A very generic response, one that comes out mechanically, given how often people express similar thoughts to him, tell him he's working too hard, that he deserves a break and all that, things he hears pretty frequently. A randomly chosen option, the first that comes to mind, of a preset list of responses to such inquiries and comments.

A casual sigh, a shrug of the shoulders, followed with a 'well, someone has to get this done, might as well do it myself.' With a pleasant tone and a slight chuckle, of course, as socially expected, that perfect level of exasperation to where he can complain, but just not enough to make it seem like he actually feels burdened. A default exchange like so many others, that he recites his parts of without really thinking about it.

Likewise, you give what he perceives as a typical reply.

If you need any help, I can come back as soon as I get this dropped off...

He just shakes his head.

That's alright. Everything that can be done today is nearly finished anyway.

You shift the box you're carrying, jerking it up with a soft motion to re-secure it in your arms.

Well, alright, if you say so... you can let me know if you ever need any help with anything!

Of course, that in and of itself is also an empty social gesture. So often people say things of the sort -- let me know if you need anything, or I can help if you need, so on and so on, a courtesy expected by arbitrary rules of social etiquette, but not anticipated to be very likely to be actually taken up on the offer. He couldn't even count how many times people have said similar things to him, it's just a matter of social propriety. The exchange melts into the vast collection of perpetual memory, as with every other uneventful moment in one's life, and he doesn't think of it again for the rest of the day.

He's a bit taken aback, then, when you show up the next day. You can see the slight bewilderment on his face when he asks if you need something. Your reply is a bit sheepish, but friendly.

Well, you said 'everything that can get done today' yesterday, so I figured you'd be busy again today too... I don't have anything better to do, and I'm trying to get to know people here, you know? You seem like you could use some help.

Ah. Well, that does make sense. In truth, he values the solitary time he gets to himself, and trying to get to know new people often leaves him rather exhausted. But still, you're a pleasant person, and he would appreciate getting this set-up work for the event tomorrow done faster. He thanks you, pauses for a moment while trying to determine a task to delegate to you. Can't give you something too difficult, seeing as you're generous enough to do this in the first place. You end up performing some menial, repetitive task, simple but necessary, while he does the heavy lifting and more difficult aspects.

It's easy to talk to you, thankfully. You mostly just ask him a bunch of questions about the school, about himself, about Kalim, about the Scarabia dorm, so on and so on. Nothing too intrusive, nothing that's difficult to answer. Truthfully, it's actually kind of nice. He's not particularly used to people expressing a great deal of interest in him, he usually sort of works in the background, quiet, unnoticed, doesn't draw attention to himself. He was a bit weary of the thought of working with someone on this, but he finds that he actually enjoyed the time, once it's over, when you bid him farewell and head back to your own dorm, promising to come by again sometime.

But again, that's a social courtesy. Maybe you will, maybe you won't. It would be rather nice, but he won't be too disappointed nor surprised if you don't; after all, you must be very busy meeting tons of people and adjusting to the situation you've found yourself in here. He's not expecting anything.

Since over a week passes, he starts to think it will be just a one-time thing, not thinking much of it. It's a rather pleasant surprise, this time around, when you do show up again. He says it's nice to see you again, even more of those necessary appropriate courtesy things he's supposed to say, although it is meant sincerely. Thanks you for coming by again.

Conversation comes a bit more easily, as you're not really strangers this time around, your exchanges lack that inherent slight awkwardness that comes with interacting with a person you've never spoken to before. This time he can make some conversation based on asking you how your week was, how you're getting adjusted, so on and so on.

You come back a third time, after that, this time only around five days later. Then a fourth time, although that time you take even longer than the time between the first and second visit. He does take notice of that, supposing it to just be a habit of being observant of details like that.

It turns into a habit. You keep coming back, trying to help out. It's an appreciated act of kindness, but... somewhat uncomfortable, too. He's used to having to do quite a lot by himself, or employing the help of random Scarabia students, but even then he's acting more as a director, telling them what to do while working on other tasks himself. He's not as much used to working directly with someone, having someone hand him things and work right alongside him.

Still, it gets the job done faster. And it's nice to have someone to talk to, makes it feel like it's going by faster too. Not to mention, your returning to help him on multiple occasions suggests you have some desire to be around him, since he's fairly certain it's not as if you find manual labor particularly enthralling or anything. That gives him a feeling that is very...

...Unpleasant.

Yes, categorically, it should be considered unpleasant. A tight constriction of the chest, jittery nerves, increased heart rate, a feeling of unease and bashfulness. None of that is particularly positive, and in fact is rather irksome.

But the feeling is somehow, nonetheless, an addictive one, a sort of natural chemical high that, despite the duality of its unpleasantness, still leaves him with that trademark "warm fuzzy feeling" for the rest of the day, well after your departure. The back-and-forth of how good and bad the feeling is, is confusing and frustrating in and of itself. Not to mention the way he gradually increasingly finds his thoughts drifting to you in some way, wondering what you're doing and where you are. The sudden rushing feeling to his chest whenever he happens to spot you. The way he starts to look forward to your coming to visit and help. The surge of excitement when you do come walking through the door, and admittedly, acute disappointment on the days you don't show up.

More importantly, the conclusions to be drawn are frustrating. He's not clueless, quite the opposite. The realization of the sentiments he has for you aren't something he goes into self-denial about, nor does he have to sort through them.

It just sort of dawns on him one day, when you show up a few minutes late to a class you both have -- he finds himself a bit worried for the few minutes of your absence, and similarly a sensation of relief when you come sheepishly slinking through the doorway, quietly trying to enter the room without being noticed or called out for tardiness. Your eyes briefly meet from across the room. You flash a quick smile in his direction before heading to the spot you normally sit in. The slight concern, the relief, the way that one quick second of eye contact and smile from you made his heartrate go up, made a warm tight feeling in his chest... it just sort of occurs to him within that moment. Yes, he's not the sort of person to be in denial or delusion and convince himself he feels any other way, and is quite good at recognizing and fully understanding his own psychology.

...

...

...Ugh.

Not that he doesn't appreciate you or anything, but at first, it's actually something he's not particularly thrilled about, quite frustrated actually.

Firstly, it's inconvenient. For someone as busy and with so many responsibilities as himself, it's not good to have distractions or liabilities. Such things can compromise one's sense of priority, and keep oneself absent-minded, neither of which he can afford.

More importantly, it's a sort of weakness that he doesn't like the thought of having. His calmness and composition throughout most matters is largely dependent on the fact that he tends to operate from a distance, executing plans by proxy or otherwise indirectly. He doesn't approach things very head-on, it's just not his way of doing things. And any matters he conducts are usually professional or academic, rarely having to involve feelings and emotions, particularly in a relational sense to other people. While he's very persuasive, well-liked, and certainly doesn't struggle to socialize or anything, he doesn't really form a lot of very close relationships.

Thus, while would never admit to it, he's sort of lost when it comes to matters of a truly romantic nature, and would be very awkward if he tried to be forward or initiate any sort of display of affection. Thankfully, he's self-aware of that, and isn't about to make a fool of himself doing something stupid and impulsive.

This leads to a sort of stagnation. Yes, he'll do everything in his power to set up the correct circumstances in which he can be around you, will manipulate all sorts of surrounding factors and nearly everyone in your social network, even if that involves countless hours of quietly carrying out plans... he just won't, you know, ever say it outright to you, at least not unless you do first.

After all, even in literature and media, courtship is often compared to some form of game, where the one who cares more and needs the other more is thought of as the weaker, "losing" party. There's an innate sort of vulnerability to transparency in openness to one's emotions, and he's strongly averse to that. Part of it is the innate sensitivity to rejection present in all people, but it's also a matter of control. He likes situations and people and things that give him a firm sense of control, stability, security. People who are easily manipulated, situations that he can easily direct the outcome of... and opening up such a situation would mean relinquishing control of whatever happens next, control of his own emotional state, control over the inherent power imbalance present deep within every social interaction, over to you. Can't do that.

And when that "losing" party makes their desperation and vulnerability known, it turns off the other, bores them, makes them feel the desperate one is disposable and soon treats them as such after losing interest.

Well, some people. If you ask him, the thought of that level of desperation and neediness from a partner is actually quite nice. He can't really wrap his head around why some people would find it irritating or boring when just the thought of it seems like a euphoric fantasy. Since he likes control, a lack thereof, a sense that something is slipping out of his grasp, that he can't easily dictate the actions or results of something, is something he can't stand for.

So, he can't do it. Can't expose that degree of openness, risk rejection.

But that's alright, he can't afford to have that sort of relationship with someone anyway, it would simply interfere with his responsibilities too much. So he determines, at least initially.

The solution to both of these problems, then, is to simply refrain. No interference with his responsibilities, and no need to expose any vulnerability. He's very used to restraining his emotions, refraining from acting upon impulses or desires, however harmless they may be, because responsibility must take priority. Rarely has something consumed his thoughts to such a degree, but still, he can handle it.

Thus, for a while, he might actually avoid you to some extent, thinking it will decrease the chances of attachment. Gets things done in a different location than where you usually find him, works at different times.

But then it seems so boring and empty when he's working alone, when he doesn't have your bright smile there, it feels very... depressing. Likewise, when he sees you again, coming up with some excuse as to why he was absent the day before or so (did you come looking for him and he wasn't there? Were you disappointed? The thought of that is satisfying on its own...), the discontentment goes right back to feeling everything is alright and well with the world, and it's a feeling he just can't give up.

He quickly realizes it seems pointless to continuously resist. If he can't rid himself of it, he might as well try to work with it, adapt to the best of his ability. That seems like the only logical conclusion. Keep you close, but not too close, and to avoid exposing any affections beyond very simple appreciation for your help and presence, at least until he has full security that he can afford to do otherwise.

He doesn't initiate it, but gladly welcomes it when you start to seek him out elsewhere. You learn you have the same lunch period during most of the week, and a few electives together. You don't always talk to or sit next to him, but you sort of rotate between your friends, so he gets to interact with you some of the time.

The other times, though, you opt to talk to others instead. Turns out you're getting along quite well with several people on campus since you showed up here. He just sort of waits at the beginning of the class to see whether or not you'll come to him, or if you go to someone else.

If it's the former, he's certainly happy about it, perhaps almost a bit relieved that that was your choice. You would never get the impression it was what he was hoping for, though, he ensures that. Refrains from looking up when you enter a room, stares blankly down at a paper or textbook on the desk, as if not paying attention, giving no semblance of caring either way, merely watching you from the corner of his eye, and pretending to only notice your presence the moment you sit down.

Whenever it's the latter, he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel an increasingly sharp sense of disappointment. Perhaps a bit of irritation. A strange, gnawing feeling in his stomach, a tightness to his chest. Very opposing feelings, ones that he soon realizes linger with him the entire day. If you choose to talk to him, the rest of his day feels great, and if not, he finds himself a bit disgruntled for the rest of the day. It feels embarrassing for something so simple to be affecting him to such an extent, but he can't control the emotional aspect.

That begins to create a greater concern.

A bit of worry that this initially unwelcome sentiment of affection is starting to create some other, more problematic feelings. Ones that feel harder to handle.

It's more of a subconscious worry, at first, a faint uneasiness that largely rests at the back of his mind. The full extent of the realization comes as a sudden occurrence, one day, when you don't show up at the end of the day for the first time in a while, seeing as you've started coming by to help him out on a daily basis now.

He's a bit disappointed, sure. But it's no big deal, it's not as if you ever agreed to come every day or anything, you're certainly under no obligation to do so, it's incredibly generous for you to come at all in the first place.

...You could have said something, though, you know.

It's not as if you don't see him throughout the day in passing, in class. It's completely voluntary to begin with, so of course it's not necessary for you to tell him if you're coming or not, nor does he take it as a rudeness that you didn't, it's just... you could have. It would have been appreciated. After all, now he has to wonder where you are, which leads him to contemplate the very small possibility that something might be wrong, which causes unnecessary worry that he could have been spared had you just bothered to stop him for a second, or send a message with a single sentence since you exchanged numbers a while back, neither of which would have taken very long... but that's a selfish mentality, so he tells himself. Obviously you must be spending time with other people doing other things, like anyone does, which you have every right to do.

He can't help but wonder with whom, though. A few people come to mind, he mentally goes down the list of people he sees you with most frequently and at what time of day he sees you with each one...

Which is something he only now realizes he's subconsciously been keeping track of. But that's force of habit, he has to be observant like that... okay, no, it's not, it's definitely more than that, he can't lie to himself. The force of habit does contribute, but nonetheless.

Still, if he runs down the list, given the time of day and day of the week, he can come up with one most likely possibility, and a couple lesser possibilities, as to your current location, company, and activity. The fair degree of certainty is reassuring.

But there's still a knot in his stomach the more he thinks about it. His hands keep working, but his mind is playing imagery and words in his imagination, things you might be talking about and saying and doing and what others might be saying back to you and it's a very, very, very awful feeling.

Soon enough, he's forced to snap back to awareness when he realizes the task he was working on is done while his mind was elsewhere, and nearly an hour has passed. He should probably go home and get started on food for the evening.

It's not the direction his feet take him in, though.

It can't hurt to check just for a second. Besides, it's only like a five minute detour, so he might as well. Just a brisk walk through a few halls, down a few doors, just barely peeking over a door window to ensure he remains unseen.

Sure enough, he was right. You're just sitting around and talking. He makes a quick mental note of the other individuals in the room, tries to listen in for a moment before realizing it's (unfortunately) too muffled to be clearly heard, then turns around and goes home.

And ends up sitting on the edge of the bed, elbow to each thigh and head resting on each respective hand, staring at the wall, running through the events of the past hour and a half, fully realizing the significance of how unusual and intense his behavior was. He was aware of it even in the moment, sure, but the momentary impulse overrode any sense of reason. It's a mistake he tells himself not to make again.

But he knows the feeling is increasing. The intensity is getting worse and worse with each passing day. While he's careful not to be careless about it, he finds himself making a habit of checking on you on the days you don't come around to see him. The fact that there even are such days, seeing you with other people doing something else, starts to upset him more and more, to the extent he starts thinking about it at random throughout the day. Each occurrence of such thoughts striking him with a feeling of bitterness that makes him clench his jaw, curl his hands into fists, even respond more bluntly than he normally would to other people when approached -- he even overheard, on one such occasion, after giving a frustrated what? to someone that approached him, the same student remarking to someone else that the vice housewarden has been in a really poor mood lately, to which the other seemed to agree.

The potential consequences of it all does worry him. But his response to these emotions, and understanding of them, isn't quite what you might expect.

Unlike almost anyone else would be, he's not concerned or confused by the acknowledgement of the fact that he has abnormally intense, compulsive, obsessive attachment. He's not really alarmed by realizing what's happening.

See, most people go through a reckoning phase, having to do with their self-image. Most see themselves as a good person, and struggle to come to terms with their actions and thoughts — ultimately either coming to terms with the wrongness of what they want, or deluding themselves.

But Jamil is no stranger to having nefarious urges, nor does he have any real issues with acceptance of the reality of his desires. But more importantly, part of what makes him such a force to be reckoned with, and gives him such frightening potential for success as an obsessive, is a lack of any compulsion to prescribe to conventional morality, nor any feeling of need to justify his own actions. He's fully aware that the ideas in his head and urges in his thoughts are "wrong," there's no period of self-bargaining or attempting to rationalize or justify anything to himself, no attempts at self-delusion. He's just perfectly fine with accepting that he wants to do things considered immoral.

In fact, completely unlike Kalim, he's almost unnervingly self-aware. There may have been a bit of confusion, or very brief attempts to justify his actions to himself in the beginning, but after the initial realizations take place, he becomes acutely and immediately aware of every thought, every action.

He wouldn't think of himself as a bad person, but unlike most people, he doesn't think of himself as a particularly good person either. In fact, he finds the thought of people who believe themselves to be fully good to be rather exasperating and foolish. Do people really believe themselves to be innately good, that they won't act on selfish desires? He's never understood that.

It's not at all uncommon, nor is he any stranger to strong sentiments. Everyone has heard of such a thing before. It's common enough that you often hear advice of obsessive lovers being something to be avoided, meaning that while it's viewed negatively, the frequency of its occurrence indicates that it's not particularly abnormal. One could even argue it's innate in some people, some leftover instinct from more primitive days of the human species. There's plenty of cases of it in media, in the news, accounts you see from people who were subject to such a thing,  and even plenty of cases in folklore. They say the great Sorcerer himself used to be fond enough of a princess to try and kill someone over her, or something like that.

It ties into his own self-perception too, his honesty to himself about his personhood. Someone who would develop such urges and feelings... yeah, he can see that happening to him. At first, it actually doesn't seem to make sense, but the more he thinks about it, the more it does make sense, after a long while of contemplating it almost amusingly, as if he's a third party analyzing someone else, and not himself. It checks out, he supposes. Irksome and inconvenient that that would develop in him, but there's no use trying to fight those kinds of urges when, based on his own observations and accounts of such things, the people who tend to have such tendencies always seem to have it in such a way that is clearly an innate part of their psychology, thus pointless to avoid, and better dealt with by adapting and adjusting. Oh well.

Those sorts of cases frequently end poorly for the individual in question, but those are normal people, with normal levels of control and cunning. By contrast, he knows himself well enough to know he has high restraint and inhibition, so the risk of acting out and drawing attention is near nonexistent, and he's patient and calculated enough that he's fairly certain he can act out the ideas he begins to have without risk of consequence.

Because there would be negative consequence, he's sure of that. The extent and intensity of his emotions is at a point that it could be considered erratic or obsessive, as he already knows full well, and would cause alarm if you or anyone else became aware of it. Even if, say, you were to return the feelings to a normal extent, even if you like him, he still has no doubt that the full intensity of what he is capable of, the malicious and unethical nature of many of the urges themselves, would almost certainly cause you to change your mind. So even if you respond positively, he has to keep that in check.

But acknowledging the potential consequences of acting out of line aside, he's surprisingly very unbothered it, for someone who is coming to the realization that they have feelings and urge for behaviors that go beyond the conventions of normalcy or what is considered "heathy." The latter of which he just rolls his eyes at; he's always been convinced that most people condemning emotions as "unhealthy" are really just trying to get people to conform to social norms -- hey, if he wants to let himself be slowly consumed by resentment over the course of his entire life, that's his business, you know? Same thing applies here. Abiding by the cultural norms and social expectations of a "healthy relationship" and "being ethical" is just a roundabout way of stopping him from doing what he wants and won't get him the results he desires, so no need to even try to listen to such nonsense.

Alongside all of that, he has remarkable persuasion skills, can lie and act very convincingly if needed.  Difficult to catch off-guard, has planned out interactions and alternate paths to take in case one avenue doesn't work out. Always prepared for almost anything that could go wrong. He's patient, cunning, intelligent, perceptive... all traits you do not want in someone with his intentions. He's fairly good at concealing emotions as well -- sure, sometimes a bit of it may slip out here and there, but he's still infinitely better at it than the vast majority of people.

All of this combined — lack of concern for ethics, high self-awareness, fairly high ability to mask his emotions, unhesitating acceptance of the realization of forming an obsession, high intelligence and perceptiveness, great patience, and high impulse control in favor of cunning premeditation — makes him an unusually highly effective obsessive with an almost alarming capacity for harm and success. One of the most unfortunate individuals in the establishment you could end up catching the affections of, in terms of your chances of things ending well for you.

Not that there aren't a few moments where it slips through, just the occasional word or gesture. He's still better than virtually anyone else at concealing emotions, but nonetheless, those emotions are the ones that may just come out, if but for a moment.

You end up missing a few more days of helping him in a row. Friends invited you out to a couple of events. You didn't really think anything of it, at least, not until you come back to your usual routine, on what would have been the fourth day of absence if you hadn't come.

He's already not the most talkative person in the world, but you quickly notice an unusual curtness to his tone. Usually, if you sit down and open with a how was your day?, he'll shrug, say nothing eventful occurred, or make a small mention of something that happened if something eventful did occur.

This time, though, you get a much more brief answer. It was fine.

The tone of his voice is clearly cold, almost passive-aggressive. You tilt your head and ask if something happened, if something's wrong. You get a similarly curt answer.

No.

But as he tends to do with regards to his own behavior, he catches himself, realizes how it comes off. For a brief moment, the realization is actually a bit embarrassing -- he knows getting bitter over such a thing is immature behavior. So he corrects it, shakes his head as if clearing his thoughts, comes up with something about being momentarily distracted and answering on a mental autopilot so as to seem that he was just not paying attention, and asks you to repeat the question, this time forcing out a regular calm demeanor as if not upset.

This, the initial disgruntlement goes more or less unregistered in your memory. You do notice, though, as you continue talking, that he asks more than once about how your week has been -- you answer with a general statement that it's been good and just regular life, nothing out of the ordinary, but apparently that answer isn't quite sufficient.

And what have you been doing these past few days?

He nearly bites his tongue as soon as he says it. That came out a bit more forward and obvious than it sounded in his head. Thankfully, a quick glance upward from his task shows no indication of perturbance on your end, as you merely smile and answer in full, giving a few details of what you've been up to. Hanging out with friends, primarily. He has to refrain from asking specifically whom, seeing as at that point, further questioning on the matter would probably even strike you as oddly intrusive. He'll just have to leave it at that.

Likewise, he'll have to accept you doing whatever you want with your spare time. Any indication that he feels any other way or trying to influence your decision would certainly be noticed, and perceived as strange. It's not like he's entitled to your time... that is, from the perspective of general social consensus. He knows that reasonably, from an objective standpoint, he isn't entitled to that. Even if he might personally feel that way.

He does seem distracted, throughout the rest of the day, has to get you to repeat yourself a few times after seemingly spacing out. But he's always rather busy and under a lot of stress, you have no reason to think anything of it.

He truly does do a good job of concealing his thoughts and feelings. Most obsessive admirers would have long since cracked and shown their true colors by now, as the months go by. His is just tiny little slip-ups, every now and then, much like the first one. Primarily a slight coldness and bitterness to his demeanor whenever you go a significant amount of days without coming by. It only lasts for a few moments before he corrects it, but you do occasionally start to take notice of it. Still, that doesn't seem too out of the ordinary. You're friends, so you can understand he'd be a bit upset, when you think about it, and he's under a lot of stress anyway. Much to his satisfaction, you actually seem to take notice and correct the behavior all on your own, as you gradually stop having significant gaps in days between seeing him, and even on days you aren't coming, you now usually send a message.

There was also that time you stayed in for the day due to feeling sick, and woke up after a long sickness-induced nap to four back-to-back messages, one every hour or so from the time class sessions start, increasingly concerned by your lack of reply. Which is perhaps a bit much, but the messages abruptly stop around noon, as if realizing it was a bit too intense and backing down. But in all fairness, it's only natural to be concerned, so you appreciate it, if anything.

Then there was also the time you had that one guy that kept seeming to try to get close to you for a while, someone you'd worked with in one of your classes once and got along well with. The two of them had never interacted to your knowledge, until you were talking one day and another familiar face came up seemingly out of nowhere. Rather forcefully intruding on the conversation with an uncharacteristic bluntness and coldness, and a near tangible aura of hostility, a glare distinguishable even to you.

Yes, it was definitely too forward, and certainly both the most impulsive act and the largest blunder he's made so far, but it was borderline torture standing there up on the second floor, watching from the window, unable to do anything. He manages to at least somewhat defend himself, and hopefully quell any irritation or confusion you might have had, by telling you later in private that the individual in question is in fact known to be of poor character, manipulative and two-faced, so people say, and was probably intending to take advantage of your kind nature. You seem to accept that, much to his relief, and even express some gratitude. Unfortunately, though, he won't be able to use that excuse again without seeming suspicious, so he just has to hope you don't start to get close to someone with obviously non-platonic intentions again.

Still. It's not as if he can just take the risk, nor does he think that a simple intimidating interaction will deter the other guy entirely. Other measures must be taken.

To you, though, it's just a confirmation that Jamil was right, once the guy gets expelled. Apparently he attacked someone at random, became violent with a group of students and apparently injured one to such an extent that the administration didn't even just give him a strike, but viewed it as grounds for immediate expulsion. You mention it, when you're visiting Jamil as usual later that day, with concern and shock over the incident in your voice as you ask if he heard about it.

He just shrugs. See, told you... ah, but it's not your fault you didn't realize it. Some people are just very good at concealing their true natures, you know? But it's good that you distanced yourself from the guy before anything bad happened to you. You voice your concurrence with that statement.

And yet, after that guy disappears, so does Jamil, at least during those same time blocks. He goes back to not being around during that time, leaving you to find new people to talk to during that time instead. After all, he doesn't want to come across as clingy. Settling for returning to the window position allows for greater scope of observation, anyway.

Jamil engages in a great deal of his fixation from a distance, with you unaware of his presence. He won't necessarily come up and talk to you, but he'll watch you from across a room, from a window looking down on you below, from a shadow a ways away from the crowds and groups you're busy interacting with. He doesn't have to worry about unintentionally being suffocating, this way, while still knowing what you're doing. It's actually a process that often makes him upset, an irritating swelling feeling to his chest, because people like you far more than he would prefer, and now he's forced to watch. Not that he would want people to dislike you either, that would probably hurt your self-esteem and... ah, whatever. It's just irksome to see people gather around you so much. It would be preferable if your presence wasn't treated as something of a spectacle on the campus, but there's nothing he can do about that.

He's even more careful not to make mistakes and show affection than he is careful about negative emotions, but that doesn't mean positive emotions don't also sometimes show as well.

You're far too nice to him, for one thing. You just have to go on these spiels about how much you appreciate his help with various things, or when he thanks you for helping you just have to smile so sweetly and say you enjoy it, that you're glad you get to come by and all... it's one of a few ways to make him genuinely flustered, unable to look you in the eye, all stiff and fidgety as he mumbles something about how it's appreciated, and that you don't have to feel pressured to and whatnot. You have a tendency to say too-nice things that leave him feeling all hot in the face and embarrassed for the rest of the day. Just like the initial feeling of attachment itself, it's almost unpleasant in its own way, and yet, it's addictive.

You still just barely notice the slip-ups, if at all. Those times where he maybe gets just a bit too close, talks to you for a bit too long, seems a little bit too nosy asking what you've done today or prying for details on a conversation you had with someone else -- before he catches himself, correcting the mistake by switching topics or coming up with a reason to leave so as not to linger too long. Can't give you the impression that he wants to stay around you for much longer, can't come off as desperate or vulnerable.

Little things like that. Mostly tiny little mistakes, and besides, he's increasingly even more careful not to make such errors, often getting a bit panicked after each one and becoming stricter in the future. None of it ever crosses the line of what would really catch your attention as something abnormal or something that would induce any concern.

It carries on for some time like that. His self-control allows him to maintain a state of limbo, where he can keep himself in check, not doing anything he shouldn't nor making any move to take anything further, but ensuring you stay close, that you don't drift away. Making sure there are no more issues with people becoming too close to you in ways he doesn't like.

But much to his satisfaction, you seem to grow closer anyway, without him having to take any sort of action to do so. You come by more than ever, and he likes the implications of the fact that you come to see him so often.

He tends to be a bit more open to sharing thoughts and observations normally kept reserved to you, too, as he grows more comfortable talking to you. A bit more openly negative and sardonic. It's not even intentional, really, it happens subconsciously at first. He's just never had an outlet before, and once he does, it becomes such a source of catharsis that one day, after making a slightly negative comment, to which you inquire about the matter, he finds himself starting to perhaps say a bit too much. Unloading all of his frustrations and bottled up negativity. Initially, he catches himself doing it and cuts himself off after a few moments, starting to apologize and saying something about being irritable as he didn't sleep much the night before or something like that.

But you shake your head.

Oh, come on, it's fine. You don't have to pretend around me, you know?

He pauses for a moment... but shrugs, starts to return to voicing the same thoughts. He still won't fully express his feelings, then, but if you're fine with it... it can't hurt to talk about some of his frustrations and complaints. If anything, you seem to find some of the comments amusing, snickering at some of the more sarcastic mutterings. It actually feels quite nice. It's something he hasn't ever really had before, usually having to keep all his negative thoughts to himself. In the end, you end up unwinding too, complaining about this or that. A cathartic session for you both, and you end up sharing a few smiles and laughs over some of each other's accounts and shared annoyances.

It would seem, though, that his efforts to grow closer to you do pay off. It's pleasing. It feels like it's "going somewhere," so to speak, that all the conversations have progressed to being closer and closer; which is, of course, what he would hope for.

Eventually, he figures it can't hurt to try and push for some progress himself. Yes, perhaps he can afford to try and make some small push forward, little by little. He takes the same approach as he does to most matters -- quietly, patiently, avoiding risky, bold, reckless actions in favor of a gradual and calculated plan.

What he decides on doing does require him to take some initiative and ask, although he chose a group event rather than anything you'd be by yourselves for. Just one of the many large dorm-wide social events they have in Scarabia on a regular basis, although this one in particular is supposed to be for something special or another. You agree to it, with a smile at that. It's very reassuring.

Except it turns out that that presents a brand new problem.

Well, part of a larger problem. As he's observed, you've been mingling with different people, forming a friend group during your time on the campus. He would know, he's been watching very carefully and making note of each person, and may or may not have interfered once or twice behind the scenes to prevent you from interacting with individuals he would prefer you not to.

One, however, has not only slipped through any attempts to deter interaction, but apparently has avoided registering on his radar of who you interact with entirely. The only conclusion is that you must have had all your interactions during those times where he can't watch over you. Just perfectly, by the narrowest of margins, managing to grow close to each other, somehow exclusively during those few times he's had his back turned and off fulfilling some other responsibilities, completely unbeknownst to him until this very moment.

Or so he learns, when you arrive, smile when you see him, immediately making your way over to him to talk... until something else catches your attention, something behind him. Your eyes flicker to something just over his shoulder, something he can hear approaching with rapid footsteps and saying your name. Something that quickly swerves around him in favor of lunging at you and grabbing you into an enthusiastic embrace.

...What.

It feels like some sort of cruel joke from a higher power. Like the will of the universe is to spite him. Like being a comedic relief character where the running gag is his constant misfortune. He finds himself standing there, arms limp at his sides, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, eye twitching as he looks back and forth between the two of you.

But... but how did... when did you... you never mentioned... why...

You're clearly overwhelmed, though, you have that awkward smile where you're clearly uncomfortable but don't say anything to be nice... so after a moment of pause (as soon as he finishes mentally cursing his very existence to whatever force of the universe is listening, that is), he doesn't hesitate to reach out, grab and pull the invasive creature off of you by the shirt collar.

Kalim, you're being suffocating.

Not that those words deter the other boy for even a second. Other than a brief choking sound at sudden jerking motion pulling the front of his clothes against his throat, he immediately recovers, bright-eyed as he gets out an apology, smiling all the while, and continues rambling about something else, until being interrupted.

I didn't realize you two even knew each other.

It takes every ounce of his willpower to force those words out in a way that sounds neutral and curious rather than like he's about to strangle him to death, but he manages. You smile and start to clarify that oh, yes, you have this or that class together and have talked a few times... which just so happens to take place during the longest stretch of the day that he has to go without seeing you, which he frequently worries about. How incredibly coincidental. Haha. Anyway, if you'll excuse him for just one second, he has to go check on something to ensure that the students have everything ready--

--which is actually him walking off to the nearest secluded spot and slamming his fist into the wall with all the force he can muster without breaking his fingers. Takes a deep breath in, deep breath out. Okay. That was cathartic enough to hopefully get him through the night with minimal homicidal urges.

Kalim seems absolutely determined to test that, however. You would think he was the one who invited you here, given the fact that he seems dead-set on monopolizing your time and attention in every conceivable way. He can barely get a word in, can barely say anything to you for a few seconds without getting interrupted. At several points throughout the night you quite literally get dragged away by the wrist to go look at something or participate in something, while he sits there left with nothing to do but seethe over it, trying to distract himself by taking in all the stimulus of the crowded lounge, lest the violent urges start getting the best of him because he's about arm's length away from several very sharp objects on the table and it's starting to get a bit too tempting. By the time midnight rolls around, he's barely gotten to spend any time with you at all. He's pretty sure you've actually been trying to keep coming back and talk to him, but keep getting dragged off and are too nice to say anything about it.

Normally, he's masterful at keeping his outward emotional expressions in check. But for once, he finds himself so deeply upset, such a tight feeling in his chest, that he can't sit there and bear it with a blank face like he normally does with everything else. He ends up having to walk away, quietly slipping away to go walk it off to sulk and seethe alone.

The campus is fairly empty this late, so it's easy to get some fresh air by oneself as he mulls over it. Even though he's by himself, he sighs, has to stop and pinch at and rub the bridge of his nose in irritation. Getting this worked up over a crush, what is he, a grade schooler? It's embarrassing, even if he's the only one who knows. Even having what would be called a "crush" is embarrassing, really, it feels infantile. It seems like something that would be laughable if other people caught onto it. Ugh.

He keeps walking, until he's out of the dorm, slowly moping his way across the campus, long since gone quiet and still due to the lateness of the hour, no one else around. Makes his way over to a bench in an empty campus building.

Finally he gets to just sit down, takes a deep breath in, deep breath out, tries to relax the tension in his shoulders, tries to calm down. Mentally forces himself to clear his thoughts, leaving a blank slate so he can transition to thinking about something else to hopefully take his mind off things, and just allows the first thought that pops up to come to the forefront of his mind. Unfortunately, that thought is:

Which one do you like more?

Dammit. Can't clear his mind after all.

And God, that feels childish. Like how young kids quarrel over who is the best friend of someone else. Just thinking about it feels embarrassing, even if the thought is just to himself.

But it does seem like question that has an answer. After all, when he thinks about it, he can form a pretty solid ranking in his head of acquaintances, and which ones he's more fond of than others. Surely you have the same.

No, that's a stupid question. Obviously it would be him.

...Right?

Yes, it's a ridiculous question because it's obvious. You spend more time with him, you know him far better... it's a foolish question, he shouldn't even be worried.

Still, he can't get rid of the gnawing, unpleasant feeling in his chest, it's eating away at him, driving him up the wall. It takes a while before he can bring himself to go back.

By the time he does so, though, it's fairly late into the night, you're clearly exhausted (no doubt largely due to having your energy essentially siphoned out of you), you speak in that sort of "departure" tone as people do when they're indicating the end of a visit as you say that well, I should be getting back...

Maybe it's the heat of the moment, the lateness of the night drawing out impulsiveness, the possessive irritation and intense emotions, perhaps some need to feel reassurance, some sense of reclaiming something, that emboldens him. Maybe he's still just irked about not having gotten to spend any real time with you. Or maybe his earlier crisis has left him with a desperate need for confirmation. Regardless, for once, his impulse wins over his inhibition, over any self-control. He finds the words coming out without thinking.

It's rather late. You could just stay with me, if you want.

He stiffens as soon as the words come out of his mouth.

It's not as if you're that naive. It would be one thing if he said there was a spare room or something, but directly telling you you can stay in his own room has very obvious implications that he definitely can't excuse his way out of, and he's fairly certain you're definitely not at that point, at least not yet, and his skin crawls at the realization that saying that most likely just ruined any chances of ever reaching that if anything. All that effort, all this time and careful planning, and he may have very well knocked all that down in one sentence.

He starts to try and back out of it, heartrate going up with a moment of panic, opening his mouth and getting out a brief stammering attempt — ah, nevermind, if you don't—

Okay!

There's a few moments of quiet. Blinking at you with a numb expression before seemingly processing your words. You've never seen him undergo quite such a loss of composure within a second, eyes going wide open and stumbling over his words.

I... Well, a... alright. Then, you... I'll, ah, it's over there...

But it's endearing, really. You find yourself smiling while you walk back. He keeps talking about something else entirely, as if to distract you both from any acknowledgement of the exchange that just occurred. At least he manages to successfully distract you into looking at something off in the distance once you reach the room so you don't see the slight tremor to his hands getting the door unlocked and open.

The night lasts a long time. You can still hear the muffled sound of the noise going on outside as the other students continue to do whatever it is they're all doing (some collective game or another, being far too loud), but you manage to talk at least loud enough to hear yourselves over them... and continue to talk... and sit down... and then you lay down... and then you're both side by side... and then your legs brush up against each other... and then there's a few awkward moments of silence...

You do like him quite a bit, so, you're fine with it. He doesn't flinch or pull back when you lean over onto him, doesn't shift when you pull yourself closer, instead wrapping an arm around you. One thing leads to another, as such matters tend to go over. It's awkward at first, of course, like most friend-to-lover situations are -- once the heat of the moment is over, you're left panting and sweaty and you both sort of look up at the same moment and your eyes meet. A few seconds of silence pass. For such a composed person, you've never seen him quite so flustered... but it's cute. You find yourself grinning and giggling and reveling in the ecstasy.

You're happy about it. You get the sense he's happy about it too. You fall asleep pretty quickly, enveloped by warmth.

And he is happy. Truly. It doesn't even feel real.

But he's also very, very worried. Panicked. It begins to set in before he can even properly appreciate the bliss of the moment.

Even if you are willingly with him, even if you love him, that almost makes things worse, because now he has to work with the fact that the social expectation is to increase time with you and that he can be more openly attached, but still have to be careful not to go too far. Not to mention, this makes things more fragile. Riskier. Doesn't it? You're going to be more observant. It will be harder to hide certain behaviors from you. You'll be more careful and critical of what he does as a natural means of protecting yourself, you'll notice any slips of the tongue he might have gotten away with before.

Besides, this part is just one step of many, so he can't afford to relax. He thinks back to that same concept as before, that the social interworkings of all this sort of thing is like a game, a competition. If he lets his guard down and assumes everything is fine now, that just opens the possibility of being caught unprepared if something bad does happen. No, now he has to be even more vigilant and even more protective than before, and more careful of limits.

Nor are said expectations and their limits always clear. Where does the line of acceptable behavior get drawn? Does it not vary from person to person, from one act to the next? He can't afford to find out by trial and error, either, that's too risky.

For a short while, he contemplates if maybe he could get away with just one or two small abnormalities. After all, everyone has flaws, and people expect that partners will have flaws. Can he outright tell you to not interact with a specific person? Is that normal? No, that would definitely be seen as controlling. There's definitely some things he can determine by thinking it through like that, but that doesn't apply to every situation, which is the greatest concern.

And perhaps more importantly, it makes everything feel harder to deal with. It was easier when he had to refrain entirely. Now, it's one of those situations where having a taste of something makes one all that much more weak to craving for it, makes it all that much more alluring than when you had no concept of what the experience was truly like before.

At least his nerves are calmed by the fact that you spend more time in his presence. He doesn't have to deal with intrusive thoughts of concern about what you're doing and if something could be wrong at any given moment.

Perhaps most relieving of all is that other people seem to back off to a greater extent than they already did. You must have told people.

Well, most people. Most people back off, seem to respect him enough to give you two a bit of space while still being friendly towards you both. Don't get too physically close when talking to you, and certainly don't touch you.

Except for one.

The only upside to you being so close to Kalim is that, by extension, you see him more often than you would have just him on his own, as the two are often together. Granted, you're obviously spending more time with him anyway, but now that he's with you more often, that means he gets to witness you two interact, and on the rare occasion you were seeking out Kalim for something, he's usually there too.

You two get along very well. Which he's very frequently forced to bear witness to for the entire duration of your interactions, quietly sitting there with a clenched jaw and fingernails digging into his thighs and the occasional eye twitch that hopefully goes unnoticed. At the same time, that's comforting in its own way, as he can directly witness it rather than have to be psychologically tormented by knowing you two interact but not knowing the details and specifics.

But unlike how Jamil himself would give plenty of space to Kalim and a darling, Kalim does not do the same for him. He's still talkative with you, and touchy too. Far too much for the sake of sanity. He constantly grabs at you, hugs you when he sees you (for several extended seconds, not just for a moment), gets far too close into your personal space when talking. On more than one occasion, he's insisted on trailing along with you two for this or that venture, being an oblivious third wheel — which is made far worse by the fact that you don't seem to mind at all, paying them both equal amounts of attention.

At first, he tries to apply some reason to it. Maybe he thinks it's fine since the two of them are inherently close. Maybe he doesn't realize just how intense he is, or doesn't think he's passing the boundaries of what's considered acceptable. Or...

...And then he realizes that that's giving Kalim's intellect way too much credit. No, it's just how he is, nothing more. He's just outright not thinking about it.

This can become an issue, to say the least. Over time, he does his best to try and avoid you both coming into contact, tries to memorize schedules and give Kalim a wide berth to ensure minimal contact. Nonetheless, of course, it doesn't always work. He finds himself grinding his teeth, stiffening up as he watches you two interact. A person with less self-control would have certainly put the boy in a chokehold at least once by now, but he manages to bite his tongue. Can't just let him have this one thing in peace? Have something to himself? No, of course not, of course he has to be the one to suffer like this... despite the thoughts in his head, he has to be careful not to let that pessimism show in any form of outward bitterness, has to keep a neutral face and mildly exasperated voice at best, pretending any frustration towards the other is due to his high energy and antics and not the fact that just watching you two talk ignites violent instincts he didn't even know he possessed. But there's not much else he can do other than tolerate it.

Besides, it's not as if that's the only person he has to worry about either. Now that you're actually attached to him, he has to ensure that you stay that way, seeing as plenty of people would gladly take his place. But rather than just dealing with others, part of keeping you means making sure you're attached to him.

Unfortunately for you, this does not manifest as exceptional kindness towards you, nor trying to please you, or anything of the sort.

Sure, he could be sweet to you, shower you with affection and attention and gifts and so on... but that is a form of "losing." Making it too obvious that he needs you. There's a chance you'd get bored. After all, why take the "wholesome" way, when that isn't guaranteed? Especially when what is so often deemed the wrong way of doing things, has a guarantee to work. Frankly, that way has a higher success rate, so he sees no reason not to take it.

He has plenty of subtle, conniving means of prying into your mind without you really noticing it's intentional. You, well, you're incredibly easy to manipulate -- and that's a good thing. He likes it that way. Every single trick in the book, you respond perfectly.

It's fairly easy to discern any insecurities you have, some he was already aware of and some that become more evident as you become more emotionally open around him. So he can pick some nice words and compliments that are just a little bit backhanded, have the slightest of implication of a double-meaning shortcoming or insult laden in them, you visibly seem to notice, and sure enough, it's only a matter of time before you express some insecurity over the the thing in question -- and he's right there to assure you that it's entirely fine, or even appreciated... the unspoken implication being that yes, the thing you're insecure about is true, but he likes it. Worded in just the right way so that you won't feel like it's intentional, no, you're sure he had the best of intentions and meant to make you feel good, but it just came out the wrong way, or you're just being too sensitive, or he's just being how guys can be where they're a bit obtuse to how their words might not be as helpful as they intend. He's clearly trying to make you feel happy, right? You appreciate that in its own right.

Besides, it's easy to reassure you with physical affections, too. That becomes another frequent element of your day to day life... he's a fairly restrained person in public, and much prefers being alone and behind closed doors rather than being together while around others. Besides, even if not just for getting to interact more directly with you, being alone in the dorm means being able to relax and unwind... and get out any stress.  Which he has a great deal of -- you can't even begin to imagine the level of stress this boy has pent up, given the hectic nature of his daily life.

He's not particularly "kinky," per se, not really into any particular paraphilias or extreme forms of bondage or use of much tools, so much as he is simply rough. He tends to grab rather hard. Likes holding you down the whole time in some way, restraining some part of you with his own hands, often pinning your forearms down or grabbing the underside of your knees and pressing your thighs against your chest with force. His hand often ends up on your throat. He has a tendency to be rather harsh with it overall, merely rutting into you with animal-like forcefulness, leaving you exhausted and sore... although he at least seems to get flustered about it after the fact, mumbling apologies and getting you water, holding you close and all that.

You do notice some of the more... aggressive elements of the his sexuality, but it doesn't concern you. It's fairly common for someone of his age and sex and all that, and besides, it's normal for people's sexual tendencies to be non-reflective of their character otherwise. You have no reason to think of it as anything worth noting, and no negative thoughts cross your mind, other than the soreness and the tendency for bruising. If anything, the whole "gap moe" between the roughness in the heat of the moment and his usual collectedness versus the sheepishness afterwards is rather cute, really, that that's the one thing that such a normally composed person as himself can get easily embarrassed by. It reaches a point where you're more or less used as some kind of stress toy... but you don't mind at all. It does make you feel loved, which is also a critical part of the intent.

But outside of direct expressions of affection, he ensures he's very subtle in his ways. Being outwardly nosy would just irritate you.

Sure, he wonders what you're looking at whenever you stare at your phone screen, but doesn't fall for the urge to lean over and look, you'd probably find that annoying. He just waits until you go to sleep to look through it, checking the times of certain messages being sent, scrolling through conversations each night until reaching the point of the last time he checked, occasionally taking screenshots and sending them to himself before going back and deleting both the messages on your end and the photos themselves.

Likewise, he doesn't linger around when you're talking on the phone trying to have a private conversation or the like, no, he just quietly gets his own phone out, opens the audio recording app, and leaves it in the room while he goes off to do something else, plays it back later when you're not around. He doesn't ask who certain people are and why you interact with them, instead opting to do some digging on his own time, seeing as there's plenty of online information on nearly everyone, or simply networks his way around into finding out more about a certain person.

All very carefully ensuring you don't perceive any clinginess, any obsessiveness or possessiveness. Nothing that would annoy you or turn you off. He manages to never really appear very bothered or curious about anything, and never exhibits any behavior that would ever lead you to even consider the possibility of what is actually happening in reality. You would never think of him as anything but a very healthy partner — in fact, more so than the average person, he doesn't exhibit any of the controlling or intrusive behaviors you hear people complain about in their own partners. You think of him as an exemplary one.

But nonetheless, every now and then, as time goes on, he starts to just barely get this sense that he's too close to reaching a point where things become unbalanced against him. That whole concept he was worried about, where you might feel like he needs you more than you need him -- and while he's fairly certain that's true, he can't have you sensing it. Yes, he's sure you're starting to get bored, to get complacent, and soon you'll probably want something new and more exciting. The fact that he's essentially surrounded by an ocean of competition doesn't help his nerves. He's practically like some poor animal trying to protect its kill from a horde of other predators that would gladly steal it from him the moment he looks away for so much as a second.

But if he's outwardly worried, insecure about it, comes across as desperate or needy, that will only turn you off to him.

So he takes an entirely different approach.

Suddenly, you find that he seems to be oddly absent. You've developed a habit of walking to certain classes together, but suddenly he stops showing up to the regular spot where you meet up. Disappears and is nowhere to be found during your lunch periods. Doesn't send as many texts. When you do see him, he seems absent-minded or distracted, not spending more than a small amount of time before apologizing and claiming to have something needing to be dealt with before disappearing again. Is suddenly unable to spend the night over, claiming to be busy with something. In truth, he's just gone back to watching you from a distance... but you don't know that, of course. And, although it is greatly difficult on his end, he has to even refrain from being as physically affectionate, often standing, keeping his laptop on his lap while working and so on, so you can't lean onto or embrace as easily, and even more painfully, not being able to spend nights over means having to sleep alone without your affectionate snuggles, and having to just jerk off when he could be inside you instead. Sigh... such painful efforts to go to for the sake of security.

It works perfectly. It becomes clear in no time at all that you're a bit hurt by it, which quickly turns into outright concern and insecurity. You get this sad look on your face whenever he "has to" leave, look at the ground. You start to speak in a softer voice when you ask about doing something together later. And, very much to his satisfaction, you stop talking as much to others even compared to when you spent more time with him, opting to sulk by yourself, presumably in too poor of a mood to socialize.

Eventually -- perhaps a bit disappointed and fed up with waiting, as he was really hoping that you would outright address it and ask about his sudden distance, but oh well, perhaps a bit of a push is necessary -- he seems to "realize" how upset you are one afternoon that he (now a rare occurrence) stays with you throughout the day, and you wrap your arms around him, rest your head on his chest.

Ah, I've been neglecting you, haven't I... I've been so busy, I didn't even notice.

You pout, but you nod.

He puts a hand on top of your head. You always seem to like that. Gives you a sort of warm, endeared smile. Ah. Sorry. I'll be more careful. I hope you can forgive me?

He might feel a little bit guilty, sure, but it's also an incredibly satisfying feeling when you nod again. But not so satisfying as what comes after that stage, when he reverts back to suddenly giving you plenty of attention and affection, even apologizing again for the period of neglect, and seeing how happy it makes you. You seem incredibly relieved and ecstatic, you respond more affectionately than you even did before, and perhaps, he can't help but notice, you seem to be even more clingy and desperate to please, as if afraid of losing the closeness again, now that you've regained it.

Next time, it doesn't take you as long to get desperate. Because of course, there is a next time. It's inevitable that the relief and worry wears off just a bit, and he can detect just the slightest subtraction of affection from you as you begin to drift into a "comfortable" state once again. He doesn't like that state. Sure, you're still affectionate, but not as much as he would like. And your affection lacks the sense of neediness and insecurity and clinginess that gives him a sort of exhilarating, ego-boosting high that the "comfortable" levels of affection just doesn't provide. So inevitably, he has to get a bit distant again, although it never takes quite as long as the first time before you get clingy and desperate and you go through the cycle all over again.

Soon you seem to have a constant subconscious level of fear, he doesn't even have to try and distance himself. You'll ask a questions at random that's just an obvious plea for reassurance. You'll check to affirm that you'll be going through the same routine as always the next day where you spend a certain block of time together, followed by a  quiet 'right?' that's dripping with the perfect level of insecurity. Your grip around him when you're lounging around and resting against him is always tighter than it was at the very beginning. You're touchier altogether, often leaning and embracing and nuzzling, whereas in the "comfortable" state you might have been on the other side of the room doing your own thing or the like. You start performing little gestures of affection more often. Whenever you're alone at night in one dorm or the other (increasingly often his, as he's more or less convinced you to spend most nights in a dorm that doesn't have ceiling leaks and enough dust to fill a lung), you tend to be more provocative, and not at all subtly, opting to walk around in underwear and having completely ditched those pajamas you were provided with by the administration when you first arrived. You initiate more often, too, oftentimes just randomly latching on and climbing onto his lap and rolling your hips forward, latching your mouth onto his. You wrap your legs around his waist when you're on your back, rather than just having them spread apart, you latch your arms around him and pull him so close your bodies are pressed together, the noises that come out of your throat sound so much more desperate and needy than before.

A back-and-forth, push-and-pull -- the push that puts distance between you just makes you all that much easier to pull back in, and reaps great rewards from you when he finally does.

It's euphoric. It's perfect. It feels like complete and total control. You're so desperate. Whenever you're clinging and pressed up to him afterwards, he often has to pull your head close up against his chest so you don't see his expression. He knows full well there's a sinister sort of glee to the grin on his face, but for once, even he can't refrain.

Well, it's almost perfect. Everything with you is perfect, but there are obstacles that remain preventing everything from being perfect. And at this point, they might as well be dealt with.

Despite all your clinginess and the effectiveness, there are still assigned times for classes and extracurricular responsibilities (which he temporarily thought about abandoning, but that would come off as a bit too needy) that require you to be apart. And during that time, as he's learned from having "accidentally" put his phone in your bag and recording the whole time a few times, he knows what you're doing. Identifies the voices of those you talk to, and can't help but notice that not only are they the same people consistently, but there's one in particular that makes those violent urges flare up again. Hell, he snapped a pencil in half by accident just while listening to the playback.

No matter. He'll just have to resort to his Plan B. It wasn't his first choice, seeing as there are potential complications, but he has no real reservations. He can't put a rift between you and Kalim, unfortunately, as that would likely just become problematic for himself later down the road... he'll have to work with just keeping you two apart, whenever he can't be right there. That's the only real way to deal with that problem.

Besides, he's only a genuine issue during one specific time slot. The schedules of various students aren't always consistent day to day. Some lectures are longer, labs tend to be shorter, so on and so on, people have different time gaps, some students even eat lunch at different times depending on the day of the week.

You have one particular gap of time where you have no classes, but he does. It's not too big of a deal, seeing as you usually just go over to the Scarabia dorm these days and talk to some of the others anyway... but therein lies the issue for him.

On one of those days, you're a few minutes later than usual, as he left his pen sitting on the desk in the last class, and you went back with him just to keep talking, opting to take the extra minute or so to stay together, as it wouldn't be more than a minute or two delay. With the majority of the throng of students already rushed to their next destination, the halls are empty as you reach the spot where you usually part ways until meeting up again later in the day. But as you say something about seeing him later—

Oh, before you go, one more thing.

You pause. You turn your head back around to look at him.

Hm?

...You jolt at the sudden commotion, snapping out of a daze. That big clocktower bell ringing off in the distance at the middle of the campus, followed by the loud sounds of dozens of students' chattering and footsteps as they head on to another class.

Oh, the period is already over.

...Wait, what...?

Your head throbs. You feel dizzy, disoriented. For a brief moment, your surroundings seem to spin around you, until you shake your head in an attempt to clear it, and the feeling seems to go away. But you're not in the spot you were in what seems seconds ago, instead sitting down at a desk. There's a tingly, fuzzy feeling in your head.

Oh, right. You opted to take some time for yourself this time around in an empty classroom because—

...because...?

Right. The book on the desk is open. You were studying. You seem to recall some of the information retained, even if you were sort of spaced out for the duration of the studying itself, everything for the last little while feels like a blur. Was there a test or something coming up? There isn't one today, but you must have remembered to study for a reason. Your mind was preoccupied, one of those moments where you realize you've been spacing out for a long time, so lost in thought that you don't really remember the words your eyes have been scanning over, nor your own actions.

More importantly, you remember talking just before you were about to head off, Jamil was going to tell you something important, but admittedly, you can't remember what he said. You feel sort of bad about it. You just hope it wasn't something too important, like something you were supposed to go pick up or something like that... you're sure to ask later, and apologize for spacing out while you're at it. But it must have been no big deal, based on his own words.

Tell you the truth, I don't recall either... ah, it's been a long day. I'm sure it wasn't important.

You end up making a habit of it. You find yourself ending up in the same spot on that day each week, like clockwork, without even thinking about it. You're pretty sure you gravitate towards doing so out of a need for a brief rest to rejuvenate your energy for the day.

...But it does feel strange. The first time, you dismissed it as just spacing out, and the second time as well, but you keep noticing you follow the pattern without intending to. On the third week, you very specifically told yourself you wouldn't be sitting out today like you had the past two weeks, since you felt plenty energetic and missed talking to Kalim and the others you usually spend that time with... yet found yourself ending up there anyway. Your head always feels fuzzy when you seem to recuperate your energy and alertness. You mentioned it to Jamil once, and he merely told you to just stay consciously aware and not drift off into thought right before that time period... and it did work, at least that one following week. Then it went right back to the other habit, and from then on, you find yourself alternating, sometimes going to be with friends, but quite often ending up by yourself, completely lost in a blank state of mind. You feel dizzy, disoriented. Each time, it feels like there's some sort of gap in your consciousness, like waking up from a dream.

It's not the only sudden onset of odd occurrences, either.

The first occasion of the other occurrence leaves you entirely bewildered. You did notice that one of your friends seemed to avoid you for a few days in a row, but you figured he was just busy, so you're caught off-guard when he comes up to you looking down, apologetic expression on his face.

Hey, I just wanted to apologize again for the other day... I don't know what I did, but I'm really sorry if I upset you...

You find yourself in a confused stupor for a few moments, unsure of what is even being addressed. After a moment, your following questioning prompts the boy to elaborate on how you exploded out of nowhere... I figured you must have been really mad at me for something... followed by a brief recollection of some choice unkind things you apparently came up to him to say out of the blue, and another apology. You stammer something about how it was fine, you don't even remember any of that, you're not mad at all... you must have been mentally preoccupied and just blurted out something without thinking, or so is the best explanation you can conjure.

You don't think too much of it, though, until virtually the exact same thing happens again. Another person coming up to you, asking if they did something wrong followed by a claim that you released some sudden angry outburst seemingly at random and didn't provide explanation. You try to reassure them of the same thing as you told the first, making note to yourself to be more consciously aware of yourself. The only thing you can really think of that makes any sense would be your initial conclusion... or, perhaps, it does strike you for a brief moment that they're just messing with you, but the sincerity and slight hurt in their faces and voices makes you second-guess that idea. You must have actually said those things and had such outbursts, even if you don't recall, seeing as multiple people are making the same claims.

It doesn't take long for the matter to get worse. Soon, you find that when you come up to the same friends, smiling as you approach to initiate conversation, they merely narrow their eyes, huff and glare, turn the other way, sometimes walk off. You must have done something to upset them, or perhaps they're still upset about the outburst you apparently had...? You try to ask, but you get nothing but glares, harsh words telling you to just leave me alone or similar dismissals. To make matters worse, you're questioned by others as well -- what did they do to deserve that?, but everyone seems to think you should know what you did, and never elaborate.

You're bewildered. It feels like being an outside observer to some sort of mass delusion. You have absolutely no recall of doing anything that would upset anyone.

You even considered the notion of it being some sort of large-scale prank wherein you'd later be told they were all just kidding and trying to confuse you, but as time passes it becomes clear it was serious. That being said, you know you didn't do anything, your mind can only think of a few other possibilities. Why would people lie to you?

It's as confusing as it is hurtful. You didn't actually do anything to anyone to deserve this... the fact that multiple people would be needlessly cruel for no reason feels unfair and painful, although you suppose it's not at all unheard of, school environments are known to generate some of the worst people. You hope it will pass.

At least you still have some solace. Yes, really, the timing was at least as good as it could have been, seeing as now, you have someone you know will believe you and think the best of you no matter what, and will give you the comfort and reassurance you need. After some prompting about how downtrodden and melancholy you seem, you do finally open up about it.

Jamil doesn't seem particularly concerned about the matter, though. He shrugs it off, dismisses your concerns, although you do sense that he's trying to make you feel better. He dismisses the idea of it being some sort of conspired ordeal, says that's just being paranoid, but the alternative he suggests does seem helpful -- that you did indeed do what you were told you did, but with reason.

Perhaps you're under excessive stress. That would put anyone in a poor mood, and you may be too preoccupied to really recall the occurrence... or, it's likely that those individuals draw negative emotions out of you. You shouldn't spend time around people that make you feel poorly.

And then, after a pause, he adds,

Besides, you've never been anything less than kind towards me. That would suggest others are the issue, not yourself.

You appreciate the input, but the situation still certainly bothers you. It's not only your friends, either, that start to behave unfairly and even cruelly towards you. You would not have thought yourself to be someone who would be targeted for any malice, as you've tried to be nice and considerate and have never done anything you can recall that would have made you an enemy to random people.

You're completely caught off-guard, then, when some people seem to begin treating you as such at complete random. People you don't know very well, or have even never interacted with. You were sitting in a classroom when someone walked in, grabbed your things and ran off with them before you could take it back out of their grasp. And then, within days of that incident, someone comes out from the shadow of the side hall as you're walking, shoves you so hard you fall face-first to the ground, and runs off before you can identify them. Then, you leave your bag sitting down for a few minutes during a break, only to find someone, be it out of malice or carelessness, must have hit your bag with some heavy object, seeing as the laptop the school provided you with is smashed, forcing you to get a new one after profusely apologizing. It gets worse and worse, people coming up to you just for some cruel act or another, and now you don't even have friends to defend you... they only seem to bother you when Jamil isn't around either. You imagine that's because they know better than to provoke him, maybe.

You stay quiet about it for a while. Wouldn't want to burden him with such a thing, and you hope that it will pass... even at prompting, you merely mumble that you're fine, that you're just tired, that nothing is wrong. To say you're being bullied or anything of the sort would feel childish. It's just people being jerks, surely they'll move on and mess with someone else. Telling him would just upset him for your sake, and then you'd feel like you were overreacting, blowing it out of proportion. It's just rudeness that everyone will deal with from someone at some point. You're not even sure who a lot of them are, though... it's almost always, for whatever reason, students you're pretty sure you've never even interacted with, as if intentionally doing so in order to ensure you won't know their names or faces and can't confront them or report them.

Although it gets harder to handle, the longer it goes on. Getting tripped, shoved around, stolen from, even a few times getting things thrown at you... you find yourself becoming quieter, increasingly tired and depressed. It wears you down, emotionally and psychologically. You're always paranoid someone will come up to you and do something. You start to shut yourself in. You take longer to reply to the friends you have left. You start leaving earlier, when you usually hang out with them... even then, several of your friends no longer seem to want to hang around you anyway. It hurts.

And eventually, it becomes too much for you to keep trying.

It's almost startling when Jamil comes back to his own dorm room one day, for you to already be there. He's usually the first one back, while you spend an indefinite amount of time with friends and never come back at a consistent time, so he's caught off-guard to find you already back in the room. Curled up in bed, chest rising and falling with slow, heavy breaths. Your eyes seem a bit puffy, swollen, the flesh around your eyes reddened.

Poor thing. Yes, he did account for the fact that you'd inevitably get your feelings hurt from the acts, and when you started finding yourself all alone, but he does still feel bad, seeing you so upset. In fact, the realization that someone else caused this -- because it was, after all, someone else who actually committed the cruel acts, who did mean things to you, and thereby they are the ones responsible -- he has to swallow the subsequent feeling of sudden rage down. It's a necessary consequence.

The guilt doesn't last for too long. He climbs into bed over you, lays by your side, wraps an arm around you... he's not sure if it's a subconscious action in your sleep, or if you stir for just a moment, but regardless, you suddenly grunt as you turn over to face him instead, instinctively snuggling up close to the warmth, nuzzling your face against his chest. Your hands latch onto his undershirt, fingers curling to secure their place before you return to the soft little breaths, lulled back to deep sleep by the steady heartbeat against your face.

When you wake up, he's sure you'll be at a breaking point, you'll finally break down and talk about how mean and cruel people have been to you lately... and then he can assure you that it'll all be fine, leave for a while and come back, tell you they won't be bothering you anymore because he took care of it, but you should probably not go off on your own again anyway... yes, that will work. That should go over very smoothly, given all the steps that have been taken to ensure it.

And then... that will be everything. All the little obstacles, all either out of the way entirely, or well within the realm of being manageable.

Yes, with that, that momentary, miniscule guilt dissipates, replaced by a swelling, euphoric feeling of satisfaction and smug pride. Everything worked out exactly as it should. He runs his hand over the back of your head in slow, soft motions.

If it all really is some sort of social game, then this must be what it feels like to have won. He couldn't be happier with that outcome.

[blue-rose-soul]

For hazbin hotel au: in what scenario would cause both alastor and Lucifer to agree or find out the truth at same time?

Ngl, the wording of this has me a little confused. Uhh, so a situation where Alastor and Lucifer both figure it out at the same time?

It probably begins with Alastor suspecting but not actually knowing about Lucifer's past with his mother. And he doesn't really care enough to go digging. Until Lucifer moves into the hotel.

After the extermination when things have calmed down and everyone's getting used to the new hotel and living together, Charlie makes sure to stress to Alastor and Lucifer that she'd at least like them to be civil with each other, even if they can't exactly be friendly. They begrudgingly agree, which means they're spending more time in one another's vicinity. At some point the topic of favorite foods comes up and Alastor, being the mama's boy he is, begins praising his mother's jambalaya. Lucifer isn't enough of a dick to insult someone's mother's cooking, but he does chime in that the best jambalaya he's ever had was made by a really sweet lady he met whence upon a time when he snuck up to Earth and wound up in the middle of this really wild party in the southern US. It's a little funny; he doesn't remember most of that night. And angels usually have impeccable memories!

Alastor narrows his eyes. He decides to play a hunch.

"If you're so certain, why don't we just see how my mother's recipe measures up?" he challenges. Lucifer agrees. But he's certain that Alastor's cooking won't come anywhere close to his memory of that Mardi Gras in 190x.

On his way out the door, Alastor 'offhandedly' remarks that his maman told him stories about the Mardi Gras parade she attended in 190x.

Lucifer narrows his eyes as Alastor disappears into the kitchen.

Once dinner's ready, Alastor is watching very very closely for Lucifer's reaction. And Lucifer is very very aware of Alastor watching him very very closely. No one else is really paying attention, they're too busy digging into their meals. Alastor and Lucifer make eye contact.

Then, finally, Lucifer takes a bite.

His eyes go wide.

He meets Alastor's eyes across the table.

He knows. And Alastor knows he knows. And Alastor also knows that he knows that Alastor knows he knows.

Alastor simply smiles, cocks his head to the side, and says, "So, is it as good as the jambalaya you had in 190x?"

Lucifer doesn't answer. He eats the rest of the meal in silence. No one else at the table has any clue what that was about.

Alastor vanishes pretty quickly after kitchen cleanup, but Lucifer spends the next few days trying to catch Alastor alone. It's tricky, given that Alastor keeps to himself a lot when he's not actively doing something for the hotel or participating in some mandatory group activity. As soon as he's not needed he vanishes into the shadows again. It takes a while before Lucifer finally gets his chance to talk to Alastor. It... doesn't go well.

"I was just satisfying some curiosity," Alastor tells him. "In truth, I could care less."

After all, it's not like knowing the identity of the man who walked out on him and his maman will do him any good now. If Lucifer wanted to have some kind of father-son bond, he should have been there a hundred years ago. And he doesn't care for an apology either. If Lucifer wants to apologize to someone, he should speak to Nicaise. She went in the other direction, by the way.

[jace-writes-about-things]

With You I Forget My Goddess

Hello again! Hope you guys are enjoying my seemingly endless ramblings about this silly little wizard man, I'm simply doing my community service writing about him, any ungodly amount of course! Anyways please enjoy this man's beautiful confession!

tw//mystra

"With you I forget my Goddess. I love you."

The words echoed through Tav's head as she lay soundly in her tent staring up at the plain ceiling, repeating Gale's words to herself over and over again in her head, seemingly unable to forget the man's confession made in front of the rest of their party almost made her melt into a puddle adrift the Outer Planes, a major confession just after basically abandoning your goddess and ex-lover. After Gale's chat with Mystra she couldn't seem to keep her mind off the wizard, of course they had shared their moment before in the Shadowlands, but this confession was something entirely different.

No longer did she lay soundly, unable to now find comfort in her earlier position she found herself rising to sit, gazing out towards the rest of the camp's tents watching as others slept soundly after a long day of travelling and fighting. Out the corner of her eye she noticed a light coming from a certain wizards tent, admitting to herself that she wouldn't be finding sleep any time soon in her own quarters she rose and began in his direction, maybe he could provide some company.

"Gale?" she spoked softly, unwilling to awaken any of her fellow companions given that they wouldn't be too pleased being roused at this ridiculous hour of the night, "Tav? Is that you?" came Gale's quiet whisper, gently parting the opening of his tent she was greeted with a soft sight. Laid out in a pile of pillows, glasses hanging slightly off his nose, book propped up in a mage hand with his tent gently lit with strewn candles, the perfect environment to get cosy. A soft smile thrown at her, beckoning her into his warmth she melted, slowly making her way over towards his opened arms she slid down beside him curling her body in towards him, "Hello there my love, what brings you here this early hour of the day?" his voice almost teasing her at her inability to catch some rest and having to seek him out.

She simply curled into his warmth further, wrapping her arms around his middle unwilling to give an answer happy to simply exist in his space. A hand reached out to stroke through her hair as she listened to the turning of pages slowly lulling her into a state of rest, feeling herself drifting off in the wizards arms, "Did you mean what you said?" it was slurred with sleep as she questioned him in her vulnerable state, letting out a moan of protest when his hand ceased it's movement through her hair she could hear the cogs turning in his head and a gaze up at him as he looked down at her quizzically unable to understand what she was asking, gently pressing her head to his chest she gave him a gentle chuckle, "Don't laugh at me whatever do you mean love, talk to me." he tilted her head up to look directly at him, pleading with her to tell him what's wrong what was bothering her?

"I forget my goddess when I'm with you... did you really mean it?" she felt silly questioning him like this, this was Gale she was talking to the man who since the very beginning had been nothing but accommodating, loving and cared so deeply for her every step of the way, and here she was questioning him if he really meant his confession. Her expression must have given her away, told him that she felt silly for asking, for questioning his loyalty and his expression softened at her seeming disbelief that someone could love her so deeply in the way that he did. Holding her face with such softness, he leant down to meet her lips in a kiss trying to convey all his feelings for this woman into this one kiss.

Overwhelmed with emotions Tav grasped tighter onto him, unwilling to let the man move an inch even if they did need to breathe air to survive, she could stay here attached to him for eternity and forever, pulling away with a gasp she drunk him in looking the man over, staring at him like he created the very land they walked on, hung the stars and moon in the sky, he was everything to her and she was everything to him. "Does that answer your question?" came his quiet tease, pulling her closer into him if even possible they'd soon merge into each other’s skin if they tried to get any closer to one another. Another kiss in response interrupted by a chuckle,

"I don't know who in this life has made you feel undeserving of love, but I promise you Tav no matter what I love you with every inch of my being, Goddess be damned, I will love you to the very ends of the earth, till the heavens collapse and the hells split open I will love you no matter what may happen to us because you are deserving of love, deserving of this." his speech sprung tears to her eyes she had never felt such genuine love in her life, always being second best or not enough but she could simply exist and that would be enough for him because Gale was a man of love, a man willing to share his love.

Curling into his chest she felt herself ready for sleep to take her, comforted by his confession she finally felt the lull of sleep willing to take her and where better to drift than in the arms of the man who's love she returned so deeply and as the candles in his tent were one by one extinguished by his roaming mage hand she felt her heart flutter as a gentle kiss found itself atop her head and the gentle whisper, "I love you."

Cross Posted on Ao3 - jacethed00d

[cuppajj]

🌻

Sentient!Lost Light x Liaison!Human!Reader (Gender Neutral) by cuppityjuppity (art by cuppajj)

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~~~

“Have you not been sleeping well?”

You hear the the ship’s voice hum from the speakers on your bedroom wall, as you lay awake on your bed. It’s past lights out, and everyone else on board was recharging. They already knew that the human liaison would be… irregular, when it came to customs, but all were certain that you slept at the same time they did.

All including the Lost Light themself, who you had just learned was alive a week or so ago. It had been an accident, so you thought; with your ties to Ultra Magnus, you had been given the ins and outs of liaison life aboard the ship; standard by the books fare that you’d already been briefed to by the EDC. However, it was one unlucky meeting when you announced your presence, and someone else was already in the room; or at least, you could hear someone else was. As Magnus had whipped his helm down to you, flustered as if he’d been caught breaking integrity, a short silence between all three of you was soon ended by the voice that emanated from the room’s speakers. “It’s alright, Ultra Magnus,” they had chuckled, the sound rumbling through the floor. “I knew they were coming. You needn’t worry about one more soul in on the secret.”

The Lost Light had been interested in you for quite some time, in fact. Of the millions of years of their life, not one little organic has boarded their ship; certainly not a human, like you. You’re a new species, only a couple hundred thousand or so years old, and had just been introduced to the greater intergalactic community. You’re as curious about everything as they are about you: your odd little movements, the way you speak with your silly human accent, even the way you walk in itty bitty strides with legs and feet half the size of an average cybertronian digit. And you’re so… tiny! As a massive starship, even a minibot would be hard to see with their two optics, which made it nigh impossible for them to watch a human. Only through their intricate camera systems and holomatter technology could you, like the rest of the crew, be up close. You seemed sweet, when they introduced their holoform persona, Lightlost, at the Swerve’s “new-squishy-welcome-party” thrown for you when you first joined. You’d happily conversed with the cartographer longer than you had anyone else. Something about their warm and humble personality made you feel welcomed, like you had come home to someone you could trust. By the end of it, you were comfortable enough to trust them with picking you up and perching you on their shoulder. You remembered noticing how similar their frame looked to the starship itself, but you thought nothing of it. Not at the time.

Now you know the secret—but even still, the two of you are close. Closer than before, even. With the knowledge of the Lost Light having a spark of their own, you couldn’t feel any safer. There were mishaps all the time, and you know the Lost Light isn’t there every waking moment to fix whatever has been broken, but the feeling of someone watching over you gives you a sense of protection, as a tiny organic aboard a ship full of giant robots.

The Lost Light steps out of their way to ensure you are safe and happy.

Even as you hear their concerned ask, and roll over in bed groggily as a response. Your hazy eyes catch the clock on the wall: 2:30 AM, converted from Cybertronian time just for your convenience.

“…How long have you… been here?” You murmur into the side of your pillow.

“Only a minute,” they answer. “I just finished convincing the Captain to put down his work. I felt you moving around in a disturbance, and thus wished to check in.”

You emit another rumble from your throat. The Lost Light finds it adorable, despite your predicament, but speaks again with concern still present. “Has anything been bothering you, little one?”

You remain silent, motionless in the bed. Your mind sifts through thoughts as you begin to formulate a sentence that can explain yourself as best you can, in this state. Finally, you slowly push yourself up into a sitting position, head and back slouched over.

“It’s… stupid,” you admit softly, sadly, “but I miss home.”

The ship hums in acknowledgment.

“This place isn’t Earth, and everyone is so huge,” you continue. “It’s big and metallic, and nothing feels familiar. I know I wanted to come here, but I didn’t know how homesick I’d get…”

As you speak, the ventilation in the room quiets so your voice stands out. A slight gust of comfortable warm air brushes through your sheets.

“I understand…” the Lost Light whispers. “You’re so far from where you’ve been your whole life. The sudden change in setting is never one that you can so easily adjust to.”

You nod, sinking further into your seat.

“…However,” you hear them continue, “I believe that homesickness is a sign of love, and it is expressed by all of us. Even myself, for the world I called my own. To be in a place where we are safe, comfortable, happy, familiar… that is what we miss.”

“Mm…”

“In that case, little liaison,” you hear the soft smile in their voice, “while I may not be your home, nothing would please me more than to serve as your home away from it.”

Your head perks up at the dark room in front of you, their surrounding presence, with tired yet brightening eyes. You wish you can say more, ask more, but in your state, all you can muster is “huh?”

Moments later, you hear the sound of static and distortion as a blue light appears before you, glitching and flicking as the Lost Light’s holoform manifests in the room. Lightlost, significantly smaller than usual, approaches you. The two of you exchange looks; and as you stare into their eyes, you remember why they made you feel comforted in the first place.

“This place… I, my crew, we might all be… hectic, at times,” they whisper, meeting you at your bedside. “However, there is nothing I would rather do than ensure that you, little one, feel as close to home as you can. Whatever I can do, I will do it if you so ask.”

They reach out and lightly rest their warm hand on your shoulder, smiling fondly. “If homesickness is a sign of love, then I wish for you to love where you are now, someday. Not just what I provide, but what everyone provides.”

You think about the others you’ve befriended, and the experiences you’ve shared, wild as they are. Your adventures off world, with Rodimus, with Drift, with even Brainstorm, though you’d never do it again. They all liked you, and were interested in your uniqueness, and you remembered fondly of how you’d share moments with them during the highs and lulls of excitement, all before returning to the ship for a drink and a party. You think of days that aren’t as exciting; lazy afternoons in your room as you indulge yourself in your human interests that only you understand, atop your bed or couch, with nothing in that moment feeling out of place from your room back on earth. One of your robot friends would poke their holoform’s head in and join you, and while you clearly knew they weren’t, it felt nice to talk to a human face to face. You think about moments like this, with the Lost Light. Though even if they may be elsewhere, they always know where you are and how to keep you safe.

A smile graces your features, and you relax your head on your pillow once more. Lightlost gently pulls the covers over you with a grin, pleased that their words touched your heart.

You hum, “thank you.”

“Thank you,” they croon, “for joining me. But most importantly, for deciding to stay.”

They reach their hand down and stroke your head, and you close your eyes. You hear the faint sound of static again, the touch fading from your skin. A draft of warm air flows through the room, purified and smooth, and you breathe in.

Over the speaker, you hear their voice once more, shortly before you slip into your subconscious.

“Sleep well, little one.”

[undyingembers]

Wistenra’s Backstory

After reading so many wonderful pieces by @dujour13, @turbulentpumpkin43, @hauntedolly, and @tenmillionbees, it inspired me to write a little background on Wistenra and their patron.

Wistenra was born in the drow city of Ust Natha. They were a mere child when the Bhaalspawn Tatjana infiltrated the city searching for the eggs of the silver dragon Adalon. Wistenra even managed to catch a glimpse of Tatjana and her party outside the city as the group’s disguises collapsed and they fled the Underdark.

Wistenra’s mother was part of a group of drow that would hold meetings in secret behind locked doors in Ust Natha. Unlike most drow in Ust Natha, this group questioned the efficacy of a society built upon cruelty and backstabbing and would discuss how they think things would be if drow society was more cooperative. Solaufein himself was a member of that group. The group was eventually discovered, and its members had to flee the city to escape persecution. They were found by a group of Sword Dancers, followers of the goddess Eilistraee, who helped them out of the Underdark and welcomed them among their commune on the surface. 

Wistenra and their mother converted to Eilistraee worship with their mother even joining the priesthood. Living communally where people treated them kindly was an improvement over their lives in Ust Natha. However, the surface drow still had to put up with mistrust and discrimination from the surface-dwellers. The church of Eilistraee teaches its followers to respond to insults and aggression with tolerance and understanding. While Wistenra’s mother embraced this philosophy whole-heartedly, Wistenra found that there were only so many times they were willing to turn the other cheek before they realized that it was much more satisfying (and profitable) to scam these surfacers of their money.

While Wistenra made their living on the surface, Sarevok Anchev was deciding what he wanted to do with his new chance at life. Now free of his Bhaalspawn taint and having earned his redemption, Sarevok found himself at a bit of a loss. In his wanderings, Sarevok found traces of Bhaal worship and schemes. Even though the Lord of Murder was long dead, and Tatjana had foiled his plans and given Bhaal’s divinity to be locked away in Mount Celestia, Sarevok had the suspicion that the Bhaalspawn crisis wouldn’t be the last they would hear from his father. He dedicated the rest of his life to investigating Bhaal’s schemes and foiling them wherever he could.

Without Bhaal’s taint, Sarevok had a normal human lifespan. When it was his time to go, Kelemvor sentenced him to the Wall of the Faithless. Rather than resigning himself to a slow fade into oblivion, Sarevok used the same determination and strength of spirit that brought him back to life the first time and refused the fate the god of the dead had in store for him. He accepted a bargain with a powerful devil who wanted to enlist Sarevok in his service. Sarevok managed to convince the devil that having him brought back as a lemure would be a waste, so the devil gave Sarevok his strength and power from his youth. This turned out to be a mistake. As soon as Sarevok reached Avernus with his would-be “master”, he immediately turned on him. Sarevok fought his way through Hell, defeating anyone who would try to tame him. Eventually, Sarevok became a fearsome devil more powerful than any pit fiend. Only an archdevil could stand a chance against his power. 

Sarevok was able to fight his new devilish nature and preserve the goodness in him. He once again turned his attention to his father’s schemes, fighting against them once more. However, he would quickly realize how very difficult it was for outsiders to fight against their nature. Every day was a battle not to lose the redemption he earned. He needed an agent. Someone with free will who could help him in his investigations.

Wistenra and Sarevok’s paths would converge fifteen years before the Absolute kicked off their plot. A rash of murders plagued the city of Baldur’s Gate. Wistenra’s mother, a gentle priestess of Eilistraee, was one of the killer’s victims. Distraught, Wistenra used every bit of wit and guile to find out who this killer was. Sarevok also took a great interest in this killer, as he suspected that Bhaal might be related to this. Sarevok would end up saving Wistenra’s life after their investigations nearly get them killed by Bhaalite cultists. The two of them agreed on a pact. Wistenra clearly had a talent for sticking their nose in places where it doesn’t belong, and the same determination to see things through that Sarevok had, but they were nearly powerless against whatever enemies they would come up against. Sarevok would provide them that power.

Sarevok’s suspicions were proven correct. The killer turned out to be the Dark Urge, a special Bhaalspawn created from the Lord of Murder’s essence. Wistenra was able to uncover the killer’s identity, but they were hunted down and slain by the Dark Urge shortly after. Sarevok brought them back to life so that he could get their report. Though the Dark Urge had gotten away, the killings stopped, and no trace of that strange Bhaalspawn could ever be found again. Sarevok and Wistenra made their partnership permanent. Wistenra would continue to investigate Bhaal’s activities, and Sarevok would give them powers and compensation for acting as his agent on Faerun.

[pullakori]

Febuwhump 2023

Day 17. Silent tears

TW: Violence

Charles watched in horror as the last surviving giant scorpion managed to land a hit through Erik's leather armor with its poisonus stinger. The ranger's scream echoed in the ancient room as he staggered back before falling on to the ground and curling into himself.

The wizard ran to his friend, trusting that Mystique or Moira would be able to take care of the beast. He pulled Erik away from the scorpion that was now distracted by the assassin and the battle master. Deeming they were safe enough Charles knelt on the sandy floor and turned his friend to his back so he could assess the situation.

It was bad. Erik clearly had trouble breathing, his mouth was foaming and he wasn't conscious anymore.

"Fuck!" Charles cursed and went through his bag, trying to find his healing potion, only to remember that he had given it to Hank before they had been seperated from the rest of the party. "No, no, no, no!" The panic started to settle in, there had to be something he could do!

Charles tried to figure out a way to at least stablilize Erik, but the poison was killing him from the inside and there was nothing he could do about that.

Everything seemed to slow down around them, the sounds of the battle and the wind that could barely be heard from the outside on the desert as Charles watched colour leave Erik's face.

'You know what you have to do...' The voice in Charles mind whispered. It sounded just enough like his own, that he could pretend that that was the case. He opened his spellbook on the page that he had buried deep in it. He had found this spell in a tomb in Darkeholm, it had been like something, or someone, had led him to it. He knew back then that it was a bad idea, he knew it when he had copied it into his spellbook and he knew it now.

But it was the only way to save Erik.

He put one hand on the right page of his spellbook and gently laid the other on top of Erik's chest. With a deep breath he started to chant, the ancient words rolling from his tongue like a familiar song, even though this was the first time he had ever read them. With every new word the pain inside him intensified. He looked at his hands and watched how his veins turned black, before the magic started to transfer his own life force to Erik with a blue glow. It felt like the air was pulled out of his lungs and as if something was squeezing his heart, but he kept chanting. If he didn't Erik would die.

But soon, Erik drew in a raspy breath and started coughing. Charles stopped his spellcasting and helped the ranger to sit up after slamming his spellbook shut. He weakly patted his friend's back, his hands and body shaky after the spell's damage.

...

Slowly, Erik got his breathing in control and shook his head, feeling much better. Quite good actually, taking to account that he had been stabbed and poisoned, if his memory was to be trusted. He looked up and saw how Mystique had climbed on the giant scorpion's back and stabbed it with her dagger on its neck. The beast went down.

One less thing to worry about in this cursed temple.

"How do you feel?" A familiar voice made Erik turn his head and he was met with concerned blue eyes. Charles was looking him up and down, trying to see, if any injuries were still lingering. But what drew Erik's attention were the tears that were still making their way down the half-elf's cheeks.

"Hey," Erik said and took hold of his friend's chin so he was looking him in the eyes. "I'm fine." He assured and used his thumb to dry off the tears. This seemed to catch Charles off guard, like he hadn't even realised he had been crying. "You saved me." Erik knew that it had to be true, even if he hadn't been awake to see it. The worry seemed to leave Charles with a small breathy chuckle.

"Yeah. Still had one potion of healing with me. Consider yourself lucky."

That made Erik pause. He had drank enough healing potions to know, that this feeling was different. Unless Charles had been hiding a potion of greater healing or something even more potent, his explanation didn't make any sense. But Erik didn't know what else could be the case, seeing that Charles didn't know any healing spells.

"Really?" Erik questioned and from the way Charles avoided his eyes Erik knew he was lying.

But before he could press further, Moira and Mystique walked to them.

"Erik, you good?" Moira asked and the ranger nodded, streching his muscles and cheking how stiff he was. Not terribly.

"Yeah, thanks to Charles and his potions." Erik answered her and from the corner of his eye, he just managed to see the wizard's shoulders slump with a relief.

"Well in that case, we should get out of here and find the others, before more of those things crawl out of somewhere." Mystique suggested, looking around for any more crawlies and the others agreed.

"Good idea." Moira said and offered Erik a hand to help him up, which he took. He might be feeling better than he should, but the others didn't need to know it. Charles pushed himself up too, but swayed a little before leaning down for a moment, taking deep breaths.

"You good there, Charles?" Moira asked and the wizard nodded.

"Yeah, all this spellcasting is just starting to get to me." He explained, but Erik could see that the others were not completely convinced.

"It has been a long day." He butted in. He knew that his friend was hiding something, but he knew that to make him speak, he had to talk to him alone.

Luckily, the others seemed to buy his explenation.

"Let's go then. We need to find the others and get out of this cursed place." Moira told them and started to walk with Raven beside her. Erik turned to Charles, who had straightened himself, and took a gentle hold of his arm.

"Come on." He encouraged and let go only after making sure his friend was steady on his feet.

[plunderwater]

TIMING: Recent LOCATION: Sea Breeze Boathouse, Harborside, White Crest PARTIES: Shan "Aika" (@plunderwater) & Jasper (@eatdearth) SUMMARY: Shan "Aika" and Jasper go on a boat ride together! With Val the dog! CONTENT WARNINGS: Technically an attempt on someone's life

The last time Shan was around these parts was not that long of a time. At least not in her seal form. Renting a boat has never been something she was interested in either. For obvious reasons. Why row a boat, after all, when you can swim far better than any boat could float? But she did promise some guy she’d keep him company. Much easier to get secrets out of someone when they’re alone or lonely. Big catch if they’re both.

“Well, hello, handsome!” Shan waved at the arriving man from a distance, a huge smile on her face. Finally, he has arrived. Finally, they can rent a boat as per their discussion, all expenses paid by him, of course. Most importantly, finally, she can drag someone deep into the waters for a laugh or two. It’s not like she’s going to leave him there, anyway. It’s always more fun when they start wheezing, trying to catch their breaths, after her game. “Are you ready for some fun?”

The recent surge of arcane power from the blue moon has certainly made Jasper much more confident than usual. The geology professor had always been a little awkward, if not hilariously annoying. This time, however, it was evident in his strut, in the way he winked and smirked at everyone he passed by in his path to the boathouse, that he was feeling like a new man, maybe even a different man. It hadn’t been too long ago since he lost his face to the mines, thanks to a volmugger with a gagging problem, a traumatic tragedy in his life, but now here he was, already experiencing another strange, supernatural occurrence in just a few months, only this time, he’s liking it.

At the sight of the lovely young woman waving at him, Jasper would’ve gone cartoon wolf and made that ‘awooga’ noise. Given enough time, and perhaps leeway, he would’ve. But Val tugged on her leash, forcing the earth magician to focus his attention on her or risk an escape into the water. Despite their, well, differences, Val and Jasper decided on a truce, realizing this trip would benefit both parties: Val, so she can finally leave the creepy manor Jasper’s uncle bequeathed him, and Jasper, so he can finally leave the creepy manor his uncle bequeathed him. 

All those days moping and skulking because of his missing face left Jasper gravely in need of this trip. He was very excited when he realized he would be experiencing it with a beautiful stranger, so much so, he didn’t even care if Val was included in the package. “You must be…the person I’ve been talking to online! How do you do? You look absolutely amazing! Stunning, even!” 

Shan smirked as soon as he opened his mouth. Her first thought was that he must be an experienced charmer, though something about him made her very curious. Almost like he was being too much of a charmer. In her line of work, too much of anything can be very revealing. Especially when it comes to strangers. Trying to match his excitement, Shan widened her grin and offered her hand to shake. An introductory refresh should balance the scales between them. “Aika Chan,” she gave her one of her aliases without a single sense of hesitation. She’s done this before. Numerous times already. It was second nature by now. “And I see you’re quite the ladies’ man, professor.” Professor Jasper H. Langston. Geology professor at the University of Wicked’s Rest, Maine. She already knew him. At least the things on his online profile. She wasn’t quite sure digging further would be necessary. Maybe she’ll find out soon enough.

A stolen glimpse, a momentary distraction, however, revealed something else, something much more important — The professor had a dog! Crap! The swear word quickly exploded in her head, though it was already too late. Shan was already bowing down, toward the dog, already squealing like an elated lover, drowning in good, positive vibes at the mere presence of a furry cutie. “Aww! Who do we have here? You have a very adorable wingman, professor!” She heaved a sigh of joy, giddy at the four-legged angel. “Who’s a good boy?” 

Aika Chan? Jasper paused, caught off guard by the name. Not because it was suspicious, at least not to him, but because it sounded so very cute! Like how the girls say their names, introduce themselves, in those Japanese cartoons. Wait, is she Japanese? Jasper would have lucked out if that’s the case. He does love gyoza. “Aika Chan… That’s a lovely name,” he gave her his hand, waiting for her to reciprocate so that he could shake her most likely soft fingers. “Am I? I can only attest to the fact that I am indeed a professor… Professor Jasper H. Langston, University of Wicked’s Rest, Maine!” There was pride in his introduction. A lot of it.

But before he could turn that pride into something else, Val took over the scene, stealing the show with her cuteness. The half-beagle, half-Japanese spitz bounced on all fours as she skipped toward Aika, her tongue out and her tailing wagging excitedly. Aside from Jasper’s coworker/ex, the dog has suffered a lack of beauty around her, with only the spellcaster and the boring silence keeping her company since the death of her previous owner, who was Jasper’s late uncle. Without much prodding, Val was all over Aika, sniffing and licking whatever she could of her, much to Jasper’s dismay. “She’s a she, actually,” he scratched his head, an awkward smile on his face. “Her name’s Val. She’s 50% beagle and 50% Japanese spitz.” 100% butthole.

Yes, I already knew that. Shan hid the truth of her prior knowledge of his identity behind her impressed gaze complete with wide eyes and an innocent smile. A geology professor might not be the most useful of contacts, but he does seem very proud of his affiliation with the university. Who knows? Maybe she can make use of him in other ways. A quick but thorough look-over of the otherwise charming and dusky man seemed to support that thinking. Underneath that pride must be an equally potent virility. “A pleasure to meet you, professor!”

“May I?” Shan posed the question to both the human and the dog but did not wait for the former’s answer. When Val allowed her to touch and pet her furry being, the selkie took the opportunity to carefully and gently lift the dog and carry her in her arms. As if Val’s cuteness had given her the extra strength to do so. At least for the few seconds that she could. Shan gracefully deposited Val back on the ground when she realized she could not keep the physical charade up, awkwardly giggling to mask her failure. “I’m so sorry! I’m getting way ahead of myself! Should we find a boat first?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Jasper was so caught up between getting jealous of Val and getting distracted by Shan Aika’s charming good looks that he almost forgot what they were there for. No matter. That was easily remedied. He was a well-dressed man. She was a very attractive young woman. And they had a dog with them. Talking up the boat rental girl was easier than making next week’s lesson plan. In a span of minutes, seconds even, Jasper had secured all three of them (sadly Val had to be there) a boat. Not long after, they were on it, rowing across the waters, all three of them (sadly Val had to be there). “You do this often, Miss…Chan?”

It was a strange feeling. Not just the unexpected but welcomed surge of mystical powers in his bones, not just the trauma of having his face stolen by a creature he did not understand in a place he could barely make sense of, but also being a distance away from any semblance of earth. Jasper, being a spellcaster with a strong elemental affinity to the element of earth, had never been that far from the ground, off the ground, with the sole exception of the plane rides he had to take during his overseas seminars. This was perhaps the first time he was distant from his element in his hometown. As he rowed and rowed, that was all he could think of, though a stolen glimpse of Aika and Val made him smile. This was the perfect family he’s always sought, the vision of which, an idealized version. Shame it wasn’t real. At least not yet.

“Perfect day for a boat ride,” Jasper muttered under his breath, uncertain if she’d hear him, though he wouldn’t mind either way. “Perfect company, too…”

“Not often,” Shan purred, as she combed Val’s fur, the satisfied dog on her lap. They sat across from Jasper who had to row on his own, as there was nowhere else to sit and Shan had lamented her lack of upper body strength to ferry the three of them across the waters. Jasper seemed at that moment like any giddy lover, one who craved the opportunity to impress their better half and make themselves feel worthy in everyone’s watching eyes. It was a role she liked to play against, mostly because it gave her more power than the others tended to realize until it was already too late. “I prefer actually getting down and dirty in the water… You know? Get wet.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Shan gave her her sweetest smile, the best one she had in her arsenal. Funny story: That same smile was actually stolen from a naive boy in Japan. Or was it Korea? Either way, she was the last person he ever shared that smile with. “You flatter me too much! I could say the same thing…” No, she could not. Jasper didn’t seem like anyone important to, well, anyone. Might as well just spend the day with his cutie patootie dog! “I don’t think I’ve ever been with a distinguished professor before…” She had. Years ago. But that one wasn’t a geologist. “And a geologist at that!” The selkie made the effort to flutter her eyelashes, making him feel she had more of her interest than he actually did. Most people rarely get that opportunity. That was why, whenever it happens, all the moths slowly surrender to the flame. No questions asked. Only she had them. The questions. A lot of them. As per usual. 

“Does that mean you know a lot about the recent goings-on in town?” Shan tried to be as coy as possible, but with all the flirting and the faux weakness she had shown him, surely he wouldn’t think of her as anything more than just a curious little lady throwing so much interest in him and his line of work. “With the crystals and the mines?”

Jasper almost choked on air when the lovely woman spoke the words “dirty” and “wet” but mostly only after his dirty mind processed the equally unclean association of those words with her existence. He was an idiot, too, so that didn’t help. He quickly tried to regain his composure by returning her smile, chuckling with the confidence of a confidant at the exchange of the flattery. “Oh? But you’ve been with other professors before?” A stupid question, prompted mostly by his lack of other alternatives. “Yes, you could say that. Crystals, the mines, face thieves made of crystals from the mines… One could say I’m an expert on those things and more!”

Just because he got his face stolen doesn’t technically make him an expert on any of those things, especially the part about there being more. Jasper was a geologist. That was it. He was an expert in geology. That was it. Anything more, especially the supernatural? He was a noob. Barely even well-versed in the basics. But he was surging with power and pride, so he felt like he was the king of the world. Or at least, of the town. “Why do you ask? Are you interested in crystals and the mines? Because I could maybe take you on an expedition…maybe?” 

They were so far from the rest of the docks now, shrouded by the distance, barely visible to anyone who dared to care. In fact, if anything happened to either of them right then and there, no one would probably notice. Jasper thought about this, strangely, but immediately focused all his attention on the beautiful Aika. Maybe they’d share a kiss there, away from prying eyes. Ohoho!

Shan nodded, a playful smirk on her lips, already expecting Jasper’s manly man brain to go this route, “Plenty of professors.” She even made sure to add a hefty helping of confidence in that delivery, pride as well, just to draw him in. Like fish to bait. “Some of them, not even mine.” The truth was not far off, however. Shan has been with several professors, though not in that context. In her line of work, having access to an expert close by was always a boon. Speaking of experts…

“An expert? That’s very impressive! Only with you leading me by the hand, Professor,” Shan giggled. Like a schoolgirl. Or more accurately, the bait to his fish. It wasn’t just because he was a professor, too. Most men, though to be fair, also her, have a special place in their heart, a soft soft spot in an otherwise hard location, for school girls. Japan’s greatest export, maybe. A cultural gift. “Oh, we’re so far from prying eyes now, it seems,” the selkie feigned obliviousness to their current whereabouts, even though she had designed the entire play, so to speak. 

Releasing Val from her arms, Shan carefully inched her way closer to Jasper, her eyes seemingly drawn to his lips. “I think you have something on your lips, Professor…” She made sure to stop a breath away from him, her lips from his lips, enticing the man to take the first step, tricking him into thinking he still had control over the situation, even though the selkie had already researched him months ago. 

It wasn’t that hard, considering he had revealed as much online, starting with how he had lost his face in the mines. All Shan needed to do was follow him where she could, chat up or overhear the students that attend his class, even befriend his ex who also works at the university… All he needed to do was kiss her, have a little taste of her lips, let her pull him close… Into the waters. All her pelt needed to do was consume his magic, and if he had none, well, who was going to miss a geology professor who had no social life?   

Jasper’s eyes grew wider than he thought they ever could, and his grin did the same. He wasn’t a prude. He didn’t have the time or the right to be one. Hell, he didn’t even want to be one. People deserved the opportunity to enjoy themselves, their bodies, and Jasper would be lying if he said he didn’t want that opportunity for himself either, especially since he rarely got one. 

“You’re more impressive, I think,” Jasper almost howled, and he did in his head. Like a cartoon wolf. Awooga. “I would not mind the opportunity…to have you join an expedition in the future. I can check my calendar and maybe we can compare schedules once we’re back on dry land, hopefully at my place?”

But it seemed that they didn’t need to wait to get back on dry land, much to Jasper’s excitement. At first, he was worried he’d look like a fool in front of Aika, thanks whatever grime was on his lips. He tried to remember what he had for breakfast and failed. Was it jam? Was jam going to ruin this otherwise wonderful boat trip? 

No. Apparently, it was just an excuse for her to get closer, and how could Jasper decline an opportunity given to him so obviously? With only a second of hesitation, trying to gauge whether she’d pull away (he thanked his luck when she did not), the geology professor planted a soft kiss on the beautiful lady’s scrumptious lips and felt “sparks” fly around them, him, all over the place.

The selkie wasted no more time. As soon as Jasper kissed her, Shan pulled him close, her arms wrapping around him, his back, his body, like an octopus wrapping its tentacles around its prey. His dog stared at them, a little miffed, but perked up when the selkie leaned back, throwing herself and Jasper into the waters. Val barked and barked and barked, but it was too late. The dog could do nothing else but wag its tail and bark in alarm at the loss of her owner as splashing water almost ruined her dry fur.

This wasn’t the first time that Shan had done this, and she doubted that it would be the last. With her pelt malfunctioning, its hunger for magic too strong for the selkie to overcome, she had to resort to this tedious process. The manner would often be different — sometimes her victims would fall on dry land, without the need to drown in water — but the point was always the same: for her to survive, these spellcasters and fae must be sacrificed. Not something she wanted personally, in fact she loathed the thought of it because she perceived it beneath her, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Shan felt the panic set in within Jasper as soon as he realized what had happened. Or more appropriately, the change in location. Most men aren’t quick on the draw, especially if the selkie’s lips were still on theirs. Confusion takes them first. Why are we wet? Are we floating? Did our boat sink? But the panic can never be denied. Even if the mind remains clueless, the body will do whatever it can to survive. The struggling was annoying to her, but they were in her waters now, her territory, and all things considered, she had the home field advantage. Until… 

At first, Jasper just thought Aika was pulling him closer, on top of her, as all lovers kissing on a boat tend to do. At least that’s what he thought they did. But then things got a little wetter. Jasper thought their kiss was getting more passionate, more unruly, more uncontrollable. Because of course it would be, considering they both wanted this. But then things got a little too wet for his comfort and everything else, including his clothes, were now soaked. That couldn’t have been just a kiss, right? Definitely nothing normal.

So he panicked. His eyes shot wide open, the waters around him and her surprising the geology professor. Did she throw them overboard? Aika didn’t look like she was worried, much to Jasper’s concern. To him, she was enjoying herself so much, she was oblivious to the danger they were in. He tried to pull away, shake her awake, and even drag her upward, back to the boat, but her grip felt stronger, tighter, and the waters as well. They were going to drown. They were going to die down there. 

All rationality left Jasper, replaced by his survival instincts. His body and his mind did not want him to die down there, did not want Aika to die down there with him. But they could only do so much. Luckily for him, there was another aspect of the geology professor that could do more. A lot more. So, as soon as Jasper started to lose consciousness, his magic kicked in, wild and surging, overfed by the strange blue moon that the scientist could not explain himself. 

Pieces of rocks and stone from the waterbed suddenly shot up, a few hitting Aika, like missiles aimed at Jasper, except they didn’t hit him. All they did was surround him, forming a shell of sorts, before sending him back out of the water, spitting him on the nearest shore and crumbling like sand swallowed by the sea. The geologist was still unconscious but at least he was no longer drowning.

Where did the projectiles come from? Even under attack, Shan was still trying to make sense of things before taking cover. When the first hit came, however, when she was struck by one of the rocks for the first time, her instincts took over, and the selkie quickly spun around to avoid the second. At the same time, she withdrew her pelt hidden sneakily within the fur coat around her shoulders, the entire thing technically the pelt wrapped inside a thin but magical bag that resembled a fur coat’s exterior. It was a hard thing to acquire, rather a hard thing to make a spellcaster give her, but everyone would do anything to live. Just like Jasper and his magic, it seemed.

More rocks started to unearth themselves from the ground below, deep underwater, forcing Shan to wear her pelt despite it still needing a bit of mystic juice. Can’t be helped, however. She was ambushed by some sort of surging earth spell. If she delayed any further, she and her pelt would be floating in the waters, only found much later by curious passersby. Shan wasn’t going to die there. Not anytime soon. Draining the few magic that remained in the pelt, Shan transformed, and as quickly as she could, mostly because she feared taking her time would endanger both her and her pelt further, the Seal swam away to safety, catching a stolen glimpse at the last minute of the strange earthen shell, egg, that had consumed Jasper and whisked him back up to safety. So close.

Like Jasper, Shan managed to get herself back to shore as well, though he was nowhere to be found. She quickly took off her pelt, scowling at how her prey had escaped her. All she needed was for him to go unconscious for a few, so that she could steal his magic. She wasn’t going to kill him…probably. Shan planned to get him back to the boat as soon as her pelt was recharged. Did she consider his survival heavily? Not really, but she didn’t consider his death heavily as well. That should count for something, right? 

“Ugh, looks like it’s back to the drawing board,” Shan heaved a sigh of disappointment, shaking her head, as she picked herself off of the ground, once again stowing her pelt within her fur coat, rolling it to give the exterior the bounce most people liked, them oblivious to the true danger the somewhat fashionable apparel hid. “But we’ll meet again, Professor… That’s a promise.” 

When Jasper came to, he was back on solid ground. His throat immediately tried to regurgitate the remaining water in it, violently forcing as many of the foreign liquid out as possible. The geology professor coughed and spat and technically vomited the waters out, heaving on the ground as he turned himself as upright as he could, only noticing then that he wasn’t alone. Val barked, wagging its tail. The dog looked concerned, the first time she had ever been when it came to him, and sniffed him all over. When their eyes met, however, and Val realized its late master’s only living relative was pretty much all right, even though Jasper was wet and still suffering the effects of almost getting drowned, the dog raised its nose at him and looked away. 

“So you do care about me?” Jasper coughed, chuckling. He couldn’t believe all he needed to do for his late uncle’s dog to show some semblance of affection toward him was to almost die. He’d done worse for a human girl. “Exposed!” He doubled down, much to Val’s annoyance. The dog growled and sat with her back, mostly butt, to him, pretending to not care about his well-being anymore. Maybe it no longer did. After all, Jasper was now conscious enough to pick himself off the ground, and Val did not have to worry about who’ll feed her anymore. “Where is…”

A sharp pain in his head interrupted his train of thought. Jasper coughed again, drops of saltwater still inside him. Maybe even clinging to his lungs or whatever. Shaking his head, he tried to pick up Val but the dog was like eww no you’re wet you dipshit and avoided his touch. Jasper grinned. Shaking his head again, he gestured for Val to just follow him as he tried to find their way home. “That’s the last time I’ll go on a date with a hot girl I’ve never met.” It won’t.

[herohikara-wol]

FFXIV Write 2k23 - Day 10

Pick Your Own (Meetings) - Dravanian AU, y'all are just stuck with it now.

Reymanaud had four fearsome brothers and three terrifying sisters. The whole time he’d been in the room, they hadn’t left him alone, not for an instant. One was always beside him and keeping a keen eye out as if guarding their small brother with their life. They’d laugh at jokes, flirt when flirted with, and even dance with others as the night went on. However one was always there to keep an eye on them, and Haurchefant had a lot of time to notice this through the window he was stuck watching the party through.

He didn’t even know why he bothered watching, these parties had been a bitter sore spot for him since childhood and watching from the outside only made his anger grow. Haurchefant wasn’t allowed to attend parties alongside his siblings. His egg had been given to his father, the last gift his late mother gave to her secret love. Edmont had kept him safe from an angry wife, even in the egg. She’d told him to smash it, he’d argued that all children are precious. It had been the final rift in their marriage born of status instead of love.

Which meant the countess hated him, she hated him for having his mother’s downy soft feathery wings instead of the proper scaled ones like his brother. She hated his soft silvery hair, the same color as his mother’s, and her mother’s before her, and her mother’s before her, all the way up to a clutch laid by Hracevelgr after the devouring of his beloved Shiva. Most of all, she hated him for having his father’s charming smile. She couldn’t look at him without being reminded of her failed marriage- so she did everything in her power to never have to see him.

Once upon a time he’d been barred from a party at the manor, and he’d met Francel. The pair became unlikely friends and had experimented with each other in the way young Dravanians did when trying to figure out the difference between fondness, mating, and love. This time, he met Reymanaud, and an odd mixture of jealousy and heartbreak hit him. Rey was a small thing, but he took up more space by sheer personality alone. He filled the room when he walked into it, chipper and bright and gentle and soft. So unlike most other Dzemael boys, because just by looking at him, anyone with eyes could tell he was adopted.

Which was the sticking point. Adopted. This small fluffy eared boy four summers his junior was adopted into a noble family without a single question. He was no Greystone, not like Haurchefant was. He was a Dzemael, and no one questioned why there was a rabbit amongst dragons. Between the noble cruel knight Percival and the high inquisitor Charibert, no one dared accuse Reymanaud of not belonging in the family. So why was he allowed to attend parties and functions like the rest of his brothers, and Haurchefant was left out in the garden, watching through the window?

His eyes made contact with the dark haired viera and he ducked down to hide, lest his stepmother catch him again, but the damage had been done. Soon enough the door opened, and that too small, too fragile young boy stepped out. “Hello? It’s cold outside, don’t you want to come in?” He shut the door behind him, making it clear he’d been allowed away from the watchful eye of his siblings. Or he was just that good at sneaking away from them.

“I’m not allowed. The lady of the house doesn’t want me to attend.” Hopefully that would be enough for the small boy, he’d turn and leave following proper decorum like any good noble child and that would be the end of it.

“Well that’s bloody stupid. Come on then, if she gets mad at you, I’ll tell her I invited you in as my guest.” That wasn’t how things were done, or how this conversation should have gone at all.

“You can’t invite someone into someone else’s house, my lord.” Clearly he was too young to understand, or he didn’t have a proper education on the matters. Supposedly Charibert was from a commoner’s background, maybe that was why their son didn’t know what hospitality rules were.

The small boy thought for a moment, ears drooping as he tapped his foot on the ground. His face scrunched up until his smile grew wide and wicked and his eyes lit up like crystals before a fire. “I can’t, but my parents can say they brought you as a playmate for me. To distract me when I get bored so my brothers can mingle and find mates and settle down without having to babysit me the whole night. How good are you at lying? I’m awful at it, but if you claim we met before tonight and you’re good at convincing people, maybe we can sell it.”

“How can an Inquistor’s son be shite at lying?” The words tumbled out before he had a chance to tell Reymanaud how terrible this plan actually was.

“Halone help me, I’m too honest for my own good, it’s a curse I tell you. They named me after a bloody saint and now I can’t lie, it’s so bad even Father pities me and his job is exposing lies!”

Haurchefant found himself snickering a bit despite his earlier anger. “You really think your parents would allow it?”

“I know at least one of my dads would publicly shame the countess for locking someone from her own house out in the cold. Maybe both, at the same time, but one would be more subtle about it.” He offered his hand to Haurchefant, and reflexively, Haurchefant took it. “Just act like you belong, and follow my lead.”

Just like that, Reymanaud’s protective detail of siblings became his own. 

Not one questioned where their little brother had gone, or why he came back with the count’s bastard son. They simply hovered around the pair like nothing had changed. Florine brought them both drinks and a plate of food from a table, claiming she’d grabbed too much to eat herself and figured they’d do it for her. Francel found him after a short while and even danced with first Rey, then himself, then Dacien. Then he found himself dancing with Rey and for just one night, the world made some sort of sense. He’d have no regrets the morning after, no matter how angry his stepmother was. Tonight he had finally figured out what he’d spent all that time looking through the window for.

A place to belong.

[mellasart]

so, I've been talking about this project for a while now, and I finally finished it! I'm calling this one “The Masquerade”

(also it only shows up on dark mode, I have no idea why, I’ll try to fix it though)

enjoy <3

“You’re throwing everything away, sister.”

 The image still remains vivid in my mind, even all these years later, his ornate mask thrown onto the paving stones of the courtyard, his red hair swaying in the cold wind, and the knot that was threatening to form in my throat as his face searched mine for any indication that I cared. 

He wasn’t able to find any. Probably due to the fact that I truly didn’t care.

“Don’t you hear me? You-” I hardly listened to his pleas, instead opting to raise my gloved hand, high into the crisp air. His brows furrowed, confusion lined the features of his young face. His eyes, so similar to my own, never strayed from mine, barely acknowledging my hand gradually coming down upon my head, resting on the cool golden crown that rested there. 

“I have this, and you do not.” My voice was colder than I expected, and he felt it. I watched as his hands dropped, the hope in his eyes fading. He had given up, and I had won. I turned, feeling the layers of my dress’s delicate fabric brush against the ground. I held my head high as I left him behind for the glamorous ball happening within the castle. However, my victory soon felt bitter in my mouth, as I heard his last shred of defiance manifest into a string of words that managed to entangle my throat, catching my breath.

“They would be so disappointed with who you’ve become.”

Earlier that Night •

My reign began as strong as my parents had hoped for when they left the kingdom to me, as many seem to ignore. However, no amount of playing to the people’s wishes would have blinded them from the pain I was bound to have caused. My beloved parents were taken away far too soon, before any of us had anticipated. My father had always said I wouldn’t have to worry about taking upon the role of queen, for our kingdom, Thiouren, was safe and prosperous, and he was meant to live a long and full life. And I, a kingdom that I was prepared to rule over. 

Things never seemed to go to plan. Once I was queen, I reveled in my newfound power, the glamour and magnificence that came customarily with my title. I found that my control extended farther than my imagination. All beginning with the customary ball thrown to commemorate when the throne is passed down to the next in line. 

I wanted to test the boundaries of my reign. I was young and foolish, and decided that this ball would have been nothing more than a bore, and focused instead on making it into an extravagant affair. A masquerade ball. I requested to have the traditional coronation gown as well as an heirloom mask modified, they were to be made entirely of solid gold. As were the chandeliers, and candlesticks, and nearly anything else I could get my hands on. The mounds of gold stored beneath my palace slowly drained, until I was relying entirely upon what my people provided. If someone had a particularly large harvest, it went to me. If anyone found precious materials, my soldiers mined them. I sucked every bit of wealth out of my people for this ball. It required months of preparation, I hardly left the castle, I hardly even went to hear my council out. I listened not to my people’s issues or requests, as it had occupied all of my passion and thoughts. I needed to be there to make sure all of the kingdom’s time and energy was spent on this ball. There simply wasn’t time or space for anything else. 

It was a lavish party. Nearly the entire kingdom made an appearance. I had never thought of myself as the type to desire the social life, but one glance at the ballroom in all its glory, filled to the brim with people in their finest wear, was a feeling that could compare to none other. The chandeliers were teeming with fresh candles, casting a golden glow upon the layers of lace and velvet that adorned those around me. The gold mines, so rich and overflowing with precious metals, couldn’t hold a candle to the shine of that room. 

No one shined as much as she did, though. They never even seemed to come close. 

Her skin would glow, her dark eyes glimmering with delight as I approached her. Coils of thick black hair cascaded down her back, resting perfectly upon her shoulders. The gold that adorned her collar mirrored her name, the lady Amber. A childhood friend of mine, she never seemed to look at me any differently than she did those not of my lineage. Of all the ladies of the court, she was the only one I ever truly felt close to. I took a tentative step forward, leaning down and feeling the velveteen layers of my gown reach the marble floor below. I brought my hand up to meet hers, giving it a gentle kiss. 

“May I have this dance?” I smiled, despite my nerves. Her hand was warm in mine, her bejeweled rings brushed up against my shaky palm. 

“Of course, your majesty.” A smirk spreads across her face, lining her features with humor. Although, I never expected myself to get accustomed to the title, almost as if I had been able to predict how it would soon be taken away from me. 

The Next Morning •

The silence sat heavy that day. Many of my parent’s trusted advisors had congregated in the meeting room to speak with me. They were displeased. I sat comfortably at the head of the round table, bearing little concern towards the issues they presented to me, instead enjoying the crushed velvet throne I had ordered the castle seamstresses to construct for me. There were countless scrolls sitting atop the table, a physical manifestation of my mistakes. I turned to my brother, hoping he would be joining me in finding this whole thing a bit ridiculous, thinking we could laugh about it together. 

He didn’t even meet my gaze. 

There had been a large portion of my people that were angry with me, thinking that I had been disrespectful to my parents. The wealth they had accumulated had been desecrated, in their eyes. There were rumors that I cared not about upholding tradition and paying homage to the work they had done for Thiouren, and that I only wished to throw my kingdom's resources into parties and ball gowns. I would be lying if I said there wasn’t a sliver of truth in that. 

Despite the council’s concern, I wasn’t worried. The people complaining that I hadn’t yet done anything to benefit the kingdom were simply asking for too much, I thought. I believed that I was to protect the kingdom if there was a large problem, and at the moment, I didn’t think there was. I stood tall, towering above the hunched figures of my council, all turning up from their scrolls and letters to watch as I made my way out of the meeting room.

The halls, usually bustling with countless figures going about their work, were empty. My footsteps echoed, bouncing off the many marble pillars that held up the castle. My pace was brisk, yet faltered the moment I glimpsed the portrait hall to my right. The ornately carved doors were left open, almost asking me to enter. The room was hauntingly empty, the silence was eerie. As I sauntered through the room, I felt the eyes of countless generations of my family watching me. One in particular caught my eye. My parents, holding my brother and I in their arms. I brought my hand to the humble frame, hearing their words vividly in my mind, remembering how often they spoke of giving to the people. I almost felt as if they could read my mind, seeing my defiance of the council. They had been so proud of the group of trusted people that they had established. Not one soul had entered the meeting room under their order that ever had any grievances with being there, simply wanting to aid their kingdom. I allowed memories of my parents to wash over me, like a fog over a harbor. Suddenly though, something broke through the haze. 

A single rip in the otherwise flawless section of the painting that I was in. Right through my neck, and deep into the canvas. 

That Night •

The sound of shattering glass flooded my senses. Panic rushed through my body. Any hope that I was still in a nightmare was gone the moment I heard my brother’s yells, drowned in a sea of screams. My quarters reeked of smoke, and a thick layer of debris lay heavy on my floors. I grab my hair, holding my head as I try to make sense of the situation. I brought my hands down, bringing with them several auburn hairs, it scared me how shaky and pale they were. I shook my head, trying to silence the nagging thought that began to take hold of my mind’s reins.

“This is all my fault.” 

There was a fire. I heard it crackling, the wooden parts of the castle slowly becoming engulfed in flames. The image of my beloved Amber flashed into my mind, and any sense of self preservation left me as I sprinted down the halls, hearing nothing but the pounding of my heart in my ears. I burst into Amber’s quarters, hardly being able to form words to describe the sensation I was feeling. The charade had broken, the weight of the situation was crushing me. I couldn’t believe it had taken me that long to realize that I had ruined everything. All that my parents had worked for had been thrown out the window, and I had watched it fall. The embarrassment was unbearable, I had been so reckless and immature, and it may have cost me everything. Hot tears burned my cheeks, I felt my face turn ruby red. I had been an imbecile and the people my parent’s cherished were suffering as a result of it. I tried to find the words to say to Amber, but all I managed to muster was “It’s all my fault.” 

Her hands caressed my face, I wrapped my arms around her. I was shaking, but as the image of flames danced in my vision, I slowly felt as my sadness and regret hardened into a tight ball in the center of my chest. 

“You can fix this, I’m here for you, you know.” Amber whispered into my ear. 

I shook my head. There was no remedy, no magical cure that could reverse the damage of months of reckless abandon. There were cries for my head, flames reaching out to catch me. I feared leaving the castle, but even more I feared facing my brother knowing I risked our family name for the sake of having fun. I held Amber close, as the realization that I may have to leave her dawned on me. As there was only a single solution surfacing in my mind. 

I had to fake my own death. 

It wouldn’t be complicated. The castle was flooded with pandemonium, I could easily weave through the corridors that I knew so well. All it would take for them to avoid searching for me is a bloody knife, seemingly dropped with reckless abandon in the woods. There were other kingdoms nearby, where I could find food and warmth until deciding what to do with myself. What would I do? Questions began to cloud my mind, and apparently my face as well, seeing as how Amber soon asked,

“What are you thinking of, my love?” Concern etched itself into her face, pulling on the strings attached to my heart. I didn’t want to tell her, since she could easily have everything she wishes if she let me leave. However something in the way her eyes bore into my own, so full of love and hope, told me she wouldn’t have it. 

I told Amber my plan. Her face grew solemn, we both knew it was the only way yet it was still a difficult decision. We hastily gathered our things, I wanted to savor the moment that would likely be my last in the castle, if my plan worked. I had taken a moment to appreciate every tapestry, every ornate detail carved into the wood. From the smallest window, to my parents’ immense stained glass portraits, I took in every detail of the place I had grown up in like it was the first time I had ever been there. 

As we hurried past my brother’s room, I felt a sharp pain in my heart, knowing that I would probably never see him again. Something inside of me told me it was for the good of the kingdom, and even if I stayed, it wouldn’t change anything. I would have still been dead to him. As I stood in front of his door, all of the things that I wish I could say to him ran through my head. I swallowed the lump in my throat and continued when yet another wave of pain rushed through me, as I remembered that my brother would be entirely alone. My parents have been gone for some time, and I was his only other family member. I turned to Amber, her face silently reassuring me that this must be done. I clasped her hand in mine, grateful for her presence but hoping I could have found a way to speak to my brother again. 

The brisk night air felt icy on my skin as we ran through the expansive gardens separating the castle walls from the forest beyond. The sounds of destruction were in the distance now, instead the hurried breaths of Amber and I as we lugged our way through the cold. We didn’t have much time. They wanted my blood spilled, and once they made it through the towers to my quarters and realized I wasn’t in my bed, their wishes might be granted. 

Once we cleared the gardens and began our journey through the forest, I started to get giddy. I had gotten close to accepting my demise, and something about the way we were running through the dirt under the pale light of the moon felt liberating, somehow. I started to smile, turning to Amber to see a matching grin plastered on her face. Our hands still entwined, we somehow managed to find our way in a world I had taken for granted. 

Ten Years Later •

My eyes burst open, my hands clenched the linens of our bed. Images from my nightmares still dotted my vision. I strained to see the reality, the humble home we had made on the outskirts of a small farming village by vast forests, blocking my tainted memories of the castle from my mind. The warm air settled on my clammy skin, the sound of wind through fields echoed my silent sobs. 

Amber walked over to me silently, and as the tears rolled down my cold face, she began to wrap her arms around me, holding me as I felt the waves of immense guilt from what I had done. I looked into her brown eyes and saw nothing but love and admiration in them. I couldn’t see my own, but I hoped they showed the same. I held her close, inhaling her scent of dirt and herbs. She ran her fingers through my hair and my breathing slowed, while the ache in my chest remained, perpetually weighing me down. I knew that all that transpired resulted from my irresponsibility. I could almost picture my brother, ruling over a kingdom that he had to build back up from the rubble I had left him. I knew he was able to do it. We were far from Thiouren but the faint chime of the castle bells that meant a ball was to be held there that night still reached my ears.

[gccdstories]

@an-endless-saga /

Pollux had left her finally for the first time in weeks. Lidia rubbed at her wrists, trying to control her breathing. No matter how many times she did the mindshifting exercises she couldn't stop shaking.

Had he felt what she had that moment in the cell? Had Hunt understood what had happened in -

She stood lacing her booths up. She forced herself to focus on the tasks of getting her clothing and gear ready. She and Pollux would be leaving soon for Lunathion soon. She wondered what would become of Ruhn. Would his father fight for him? Would Prythian's courts risk their necks for him? Didn't he have blood ties to both Night and Autumn?

She'd done her homework after seeing him that day in the party. She wanted to know exactly who she was entangling herself with.

She looked at herself and rolled her shoulders back. She would need to appear calm and collected in the face of monsters outside this door. She wouldn't let her aunt Tanwyn down. She wouldn't let her legacy die like this. A Valkyrie who had seen much by she'd been Lidia's age. She'd heard of that Great War even if the Asteri controlled what information they could get here.

She knew it had been a great and terrible conflict. That Tanwyn had barely escaped the Gollian Mountains to reach the Southern Lands of Lemuria past the narrow seas. She wondered if she remembered the time before Rigelus had come here some 500 years ago. When the great crossing had resulted in the lush lands of Lemuria had given way under Rigelus's forces for what had come.

She exhaled and left the room. She moved through the halls of white and white to the bowels. The cells were dark and dank, oppressive to her senses.

She found Ruhn's easily enough. She wrapped her hands around the bars and licked her lips. She tried to reach out for his mind but she knew there was only one way he would be forced to hear her.

Let her die, let her be locked in this cell with him.

"Ruhn. I can explain. I - the resistance needs -"

"Your a double agent then?"

She spun reaching for her gu. Pollux was faster slamming her wrist back twisting it till she dropped the weapon.

He stared at her and past her to Ruhn. Her ears rang, this would how she'd die. This is -

"Good. We leave in fifteen minutes."

He let her go and stepped around her to move further into the cells. She stared after him swallowing till she was sure her voice wouldn't shake.

"What do you mean leave? Where are we -"

She was too surprised to lie, to question whatever Pollux was doing. He cracked his neck and looked back to her. Something flickered in his eyes a flash of more than that dim light.

"To Prythian. I just need to get someone."

"Orion is - he's on the other side of the -"

"I am not getting Orion Lidia. I am getting Shahar. Her parents will be waiting for her. Did Tanwyn ever mention someone named Cassian to you?"

She didn't respond and he shrugged throwing her a key.

"Free your mate, we need to leave before Rigelus catches us."

���𝐔𝐇𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋, the cold stone devoid of any life-giving warmth seeping into his skin as his back rested against it. The chains on his wrists kept him bound in place, the shackles keeping his magic from being accessible. There were small cuts on his face, his lip split; bruised or broken ribs, thanks to the beating he'd gotten, and dried blood where some of the wounds had clotted.

But that seemed to be the least of his problems, even as Lidia came to the bars of his cell.

He stayed in the shadows cast by the darkness of this place, the suffocating oppression of this place. It amazed him that Hunt had escaped a place like this with sanity intact.

Ruhn knew his father wouldn't be coming. Even his friends, they'd be better off leaving him. There was nothing to be done--

He scoffed at Lidia's words. But Ruhn didn't say anything at first. Ruhn shook his head, turning so he wasn't looking in the direction of the cell's bars, so he wasn't looking at her-- at Day, at the Hind, at the female he'd damn near fallen in love with, despite what he knew of her--

How can they be the same person was a thought that still troubled him.

It wasn't until Pollux arrived that his attention at least tuned into what was transpiring outside of his cell. He paid at least a little attention, and confusion spread across everything.

What's going on, Ruhn thought, moving to stand as he finally broke his silence.

❝ I'm not leaving Hunt here. Not to this. ❞

Bryce would kill him if he did.

[authordanielleforrest]

Fated Mates of the Drakoan: Episode 20

By the time the shuttle landed, Davin’s team had stopped staring (and commenting), and Jess’s cheeks were no longer cranking out enough heat to weather a blizzard. 

I can’t believe I did that.

But then again, the first time, she’d succumbed in the yard where anyone could have seen as well. Her blush returned. She suppressed a groan as Davin loosened his grip, allowing her to stand as the shuttle’s engine quieted and the rest of the team stood up and started heading toward the door.

Jess watched, unsure of herself, as they disappeared into the hallway, Davin’s hand on the small of her back the only thing getting her moving. She followed, quickly slipping through the hall, then that back room. The ramp was already down, giving her a view of the environment beyond. They were in a small clearing with mostly pines surrounding them. She stepped onto the ramp, picking up the scent of wildflowers, which were popping up in little patches in the grasses surrounding the shuttle.

No one spoke as they started out, with the one she thought was Erik leading the way. He took one glance at his wrist, then sauntered off into the woods like he’d been there a thousand times before. Unease slithered through her as she approached the tree line. She’d never gone into a forest without a clear trail before, and there was no trail in sight.

Maybe he’s using GPS.

But then she frowned. They’d said the satellites had been knocked out. She found it hard to believe that the communications satellites would be dead and the GPS satellites wouldn’t. So what was guiding him?  

Once she broke into the trees, she didn’t have the luxury of thinking about it anymore. The ground was too rugged, with too many rocks, roots, and detritus, to focus on anything but where she was placing her foot next. With each step, she half expected to twist an ankle or fall on her face, and she was routinely flinging her arms out to steady herself on a tree.  

She had no sense of the passage of time until suddenly someone was grabbing her vest and holding her back. She fell against a warm body and looked up, realizing the rest of them had stopped. Van was conferring with Erik, and she looked back and up at Davin, wondering if he should be joining them.  

“Davin?”

“The bunker’s well hidden, and it’ll be getting dark soon.”

She jerked her head up, realizing the faint light that had trickled through the canopy had gotten dimmer. And now that she realized that, other things filtered into her consciousness as well. Like the soreness that seemed to be everywhere. Shoulders from the vest. Legs from walking. Same with her feet. And her ankles felt like they were one step away from snapping entirely. Her hands felt raw from catching herself on rough bark over and over again, and she couldn’t help wondering how long they’d been hiking for.

It had been morning when someone had screamed, alerting the entire house to Davin’s presence. Since then, they’d walked to the shuttle, flown an unknown distance, and hiked another unknowable distance. She didn’t think it had been any later than noon when they’d started out from the shuttle, but Davin had given her a ration at some point, and she’d been forced to eat it while walking.  

It had definitely been hours.

Van turned to the rest of the party. “Okay, there’s a clearing this way.” He pointed off to the side. “We’re going to camp for the night, then continue the search in the morning.”

Everyone calmly nodded, then at Van’s say so followed Erik’s direction once more. Minutes passed in silence, then they left the trees for a small, roughly circular clearing. The ground was harder here, without the grasses and wildflowers of the last clearing, and the team quickly set about their work while Jess stood there like an idiot.

Before long, they had a fire, warm food, and bedding laid out. No tents, but honestly, she was surprised they even had sleeping bags. No one looked like they were carrying that much. Then again, when she’d watched them pull them out, they’d looked no larger than a water bottle before they’d fluffed them up and laid them on the ground.

She sat down close to the fire, staring into the flickering flames, as she nibbled at her food. Davin curled his arms around her while everyone else chatted amicably, like they didn’t have a care in the world. Grace razzed Davin something fierce about getting a mate before her, but Jess didn’t manage to follow any of the other conversations.

Before long, the sun had set, leaving only the fire and a sliver of moon to illuminate the clearing as everyone settled in for the night. Jess lay down as well, but she couldn’t sleep. Davin had a hand draped over her side, his breaths even in his slumber, but she just wasn’t used to sleeping in the open. The ground was too hard, and she was pretty sure there was a rock under her sleeping bag. It was also loud, and in a way she wasn’t used to. She was used to the hum of electricity, the rushing noise of the heat or AC kicking on, the ticking of a clock. She wasn’t used to crickets and owls. Or the rustling of leaves in the wind.

And the more she heard those sounds, the more it made her realize that she was in nature, with not even the barrier of a tent to protect her. She started imagining ticks and ants and all forms of life crawling all over her skin in the sleeping bag. She shuddered.

It’s just your imagination.

But her imagination was now running rampant, and she started imagining other things that could slip into a sleeping bag, like snakes and vermin. She clenched her fists in an attempt to keep another round of shivers at bay.

Then her bladder joined the cacophony, painfully full and reminding her that she hadn’t used the bathroom in hours. Jess stilled, wondering if she should get up and take care of it. She lay there, contemplating Davin’s arm over her waist and the potential threats the woods might hold. She wasn’t entirely certain where they were, or what type of predators she could expect here. Some places had wolves and bears. Was that an issue here?  

But it didn’t matter. Her bladder wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Feeling ready to burst, she eased Davin’s arm off of her and sat up. He didn’t move a muscle, and she smiled down at him in his repose. He looked calm, relaxed, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

She was tempted to stay and watch him sleep, but that wasn’t really an option. She had to pee.  

Jess got to her feet and glanced around, looking for the best place to pop a squat. She spotted a likely spot not far into the woods where she could hide behind a bush and rushed forward. The moment she stepped into the trees, she was on high alert. It was like a switch had flipped. Clearing=Safe. Trees=Danger. She listened for signs of movement and life, anything that could mean a predator was creeping up on her.

As she dropped her pants, she was all the more aware of her surroundings, feeling vulnerable. She squatted, leaning against a tree for balance, and sighed at the relief.  

She was pulling her pants up when she heard voices.

Huh, I thought everyone was asleep.

She adjusted her clothes for a second, getting everything lined up properly, as the voices continued, indistinct but not coming from camp.

Maybe I wasn’t the only one that needed to relieve themself.

She looked to her left, toward the warm, flickering light of the fire, then toward the voices. “Hello?” She took a hesitant step forward, keeping the firelight visible in her periphery. She didn’t want to get lost. “Is someone else up?”

It was a stupid question. Of course, someone else was up. She could hear them.

But then maybe it wasn’t one of the team. Maybe they were a lot closer to the bunker than they’d realized. “Who’s there?” She took a few more steps, but the voices didn’t sound any more intelligible as she approached.

I don’t think those are from the bunker.

They’d be speaking English, wouldn’t they?

She turned to look toward the fire once again. Someone must have woken up, and in their sleepy haze, they were speaking their native tongue instead of English. She didn’t know a word of their language, had only heard it the one time when they were at the Capitol.

She kept walking, approaching the voices, but her steps started slowing. Something felt wrong, though she couldn’t immediately put her finger on what. The wrongness made her wish she had a weapon, or at least that protective vest, but she was defenseless.  

Then she realized what was wrong.

It doesn’t sound the same.

She stopped dead in her tracks, alarm filling her.

It didn’t sound the same. She was good at recognizing languages and language families. She could often get the feel for their cadences and nuances even when she didn’t understand the words. And this sounded nothing like the Drakoans’ language. This language was hard, jagged, where the Drakoans’ language was more sibilant, soft, flowing.  

Those aren’t Drakoans.

Those aren’t humans.

Her stomach soured, her skin growing cold, and she took a step back unconsciously.

Snap.

She tensed, but suddenly everything was quiet. Too quiet. It was almost as if time had stopped.

Then everything sped up. There was a noise, movement, ahead of her. She got a glimpse of someone, something. She didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t an animal, and she was right. It wasn’t Drakoan or human either.  

Oh shit.

She turned and ran, a scream choking off her throat.

Voices picked up behind her, and the alien staccato bursts of words sent fear rushing through her all over again.

She tried to run toward the light, but as she turned that way, there was a voice in that direction, a bad voice.

Shit, shit, shit.

She turned again, trying to keep ahead of her pursuers. She was confident now that they were pursuing her. This wasn’t her imagination. She wasn’t overreacting. There was no disguising their intent. They were calling back and forth, now on three sides.

Trying to box me in.

She pushed herself harder, but she hadn’t even bothered putting on shoes when she’d left the clearing, and she could feel the toll it was taking on her feet. Every step hurt now, and they were gaining on her. She could feel them closing in on all sides, the only open side being ahead of her, but soon, even that wouldn’t be true.

They’re faster than me.

They’re closing in.

They’re gonna catch me.

I’m gonna die.

[venerex]

marks

contains: intercourse, biting and marking, reader having a history of eating disorders

a/n: i was aiming for something much more filthy, but as always it ended up just being soft. hi @starlightjoong!

"it's okay, baby. you can mark me".

jun's words make you moan, your cunt clenching around him as he fucks you into the mattress. your nails dig into his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks, making him groan into your ear. you wouldn't even think of marking him usually, knowing the risks that come with his job. today, however, is not a usual day.

you had attended an end-of-tour party with your boyfriend, celebrating the successful completion of another one of seventeen's world tours. you're used to people trying to flirt with him subtly and generally brush it off (jun doesn't even realize it most times, it's pretty funny), but it bothered you today - the days spent apart from him and how not-confident you felt in your outfit taking their toll. you had stuck to his side all night, showing physical affection when you would otherwise hold back, making sure everyone saw he was with you. he had caught on soon enough, pulling you even closer when someone approached him, bringing you into the conversation and keeping you included.

you're generally not into leaving marks on your boyfriend, but today you're itching to.

"that's it", he grunts, thrusting his hips sharply, "show everyone i'm yours, yeah? i belong to you, don't i, baby?"

you drag your nails from his neck to shoulders, leaving long scratches as he shudders, his hand slipping down to rub tight circles on your clit. feeling your orgasm closing in, you raise your head to suck a hickey on his shoulder, but you end up just biting his skin harshly. he doesn't seem to mind though, letting out a long-drawn moan and coming a second after you do.

his body goes slack for a few seconds, his familiar weight on you comforting as you pepper kisses over every inch of him you can reach, leading him to giggle at the ticklish sensation. he gets up to discard the condom, cooing over your grabby-hands motions as he ties up the latex.

"we need to clean up", he says softly, even as he comes back to bed and pulls you against his chest.

"soon", you hum, "let's just stay like this for a bit".

his arms tighten around you, his lips pressing on your hair as the two of you bask in silent afterglow.

"what happened today?", his words are soft, "is everything okay?"

you know he's talking about your uncharacteristic possessiveness at the party. you know he won't press if you evade the question.

"nothing happened, really", you answer truthfully, "wasn't feeling the best, and realized i fill out my dress more than i used to".

jun hums in understanding, his arms rubbing your back as he places a kiss under your ear. he's never given you a reason to hide your past struggles with eating disorders, never looking at you any different because of them.

"is it bad?", he adjusts his arms so he can look at you, gentle eyes offering no judgement.

"i don't think so", you rest a cheek against his chest, "just one of those days, you know?"

jun hums, leaning down to kiss you softly.

"sorry i took it out on your skin, though", you smile even as a blush creeps up your cheeks.

"no, it's okay", he lets out an embarrassed chuckle, "i - uh - i really liked it".

you're about to tease him when your eyes catch the bite on his chest, much more prominent and much closer to his collar than you were aiming for.

"oh god", you trace the mark, feeling a rush at his sharp inhale, "your stylist is going to kill me".

"i can just say one of the members did it".

"you're going to say one of your members bit you?", you grin, your tone incredulous.

"it makes sense", he fights to keep his tone serious, "there are a lot of us, we argue all the time, and one dude is convinced he's a tiger".