#wallflowers lore

[nyxedcreation]

Tits are just little creatures.

[corrupt-fvcker]

lore olympus has reignited my love for greek mythology, which reignites my adoration for percy jackson, which reignites my love for logan lerman, which reignites my fixation on the perks of being a wallflower, which really just reminds me that i need to go outside and touch some grass

[picturingchappell]

reading tpobaw changed my life. i think partly because i could relate to charlie bc of how similar some of our thoughts/concerns were, but also because of how similar our outlook on life was. the proposition of feeling ‘infinite’ being around your friends or people you value in general is just a beautiful way of thinking about a relationship.

[kuroosdarling]

my akaashi fic made me wanna start annotating books again and im v excited :3

[1-imaginary-girl]

Wolf Bite

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Summary: During a fight between your friends and Klaus and his hybrids, you get bit. A certain someone appears later to help heal your wounds and complicate your feelings. Reader uses she/her pronouns.

Warnings: Violence, fluff

Word Count: 4850

Part 2

A/N: I have been obsessing over Klaus lately and thought I would share this passion with you guys. I haven’t seen TVD or TO in a while so I apologize if I get anything wrong about the lore. It doesn’t follow any canon plot, just inspired by Klaus healing Caroline’s bite.

You’re leaning against a wall in the Salvatore brothers’ house as the rest of your friends talk about their newest plan to threaten Klaus and his family. The idea seems foolish to you, but you know better than to voice your opinion. Ever since the Mikaelson clan moved to town, being a vampire has gotten a lot more complicated. You’re suddenly not so immortal when there’s a whole group of people out to get you and your friends.

You’ve also started to notice a shift in the group as Elena now has feelings for both Salvatores. You’re well aware that your presence has slowly started to go unnoticed and yet here you are again. You watch as the group argues about how to lure Klaus and co. to the woods where you’ll meet him.

“What if we send someone to his house to deliver the message?” Elena suggests. But Stefan shakes his head.

“No, it’s too risky,” he says.

“Not if we send someone with a white oak stake for protection,” Caroline says.

“That would ruin the plan,” Bonnie says. There’s a silence as the group thinks of a new idea. Until Damon speaks.

“What if we get Y/N to call him?” Damon says, looking at you for the first time today. Your eyes widen as the rest of the group now looks at you. As if they weren’t just ignoring you.

“What? N-no way,” you say, not prepared to be put on the spot.

“Come on, he’s clearly shown an interest in you. Now’s the time to use that,” he argues. It’s true. Ever since you first met, Klaus seems to have taken a liking to you. But you think the group’s making it a bigger deal than it is. You think he just does it as a way to annoy the group. Though why he chose you instead of someone like Caroline or Bonnie, you’ll never know. 

“I don’t want to do that,” you say, not wanting to explain exactly why. You’re not even quite sure yourself. “Besides, it probably won’t work. I mean, I don’t even have his phone number.”

“Oh right,” Damon says, furrowing his eyebrows as you throw a retch in his plan.

“You could deliver the message in person,” Caroline suggests. Your jaw almost drops.

“Wait, so it’s too risky if someone else goes to the house, but not me?”

“Come on, he won’t hurt you,” Damon says. You’re beginning to think being a wallflower was the better option.

“We all have to help, Y/N,” Elena says. You choke on your words as you look around, seeing no one objecting to this plan.

“Wait, you guys my message spell!” Bonnie exclaims. Everyone turns to her and you are relieved to be out of the spotlight as you lean back against the wall. “I need paper, something to write with, and something of Klaus’s.”

Though you are currently mad at all of them, you decide you’re mad at Bonnie the least so you open your bag. You’re able to scrounge up the materials, even something of Klaus’s (you didn’t ask). With the necessary ingredients, Bonnie performs her spell and the written note lights on fire before quickly disintegrating. She opens her eyes.

“That should do it,” she says.

“We should go,” Elena says and everyone agrees.

†††

The group is waiting in the woods for Klaus to appear, as is expressed in the letter. Another argument broke out on the way here as to who will get the white oak stake as you only brought one to threaten Klaus with. The group didn’t want to risk any of the other stakes. In the end, Damon won the argument as he reminded Stefan his responsibility was to look out for Elena, which she did not like. The rest of you are armed with regular stakes just in case anything happens.

“When is he going to get here?” Caroline says, though no one answers as no one knows. “I mean, how can he even find us? We’re in the middle of the woods!”

“He can probably track us by seeking out Elena’s blood,” Damon says which angers Elena. Sometimes you feel bad for her being the only human amongst the group (other than Matt), and other times you envy her for it.

When the group is about ready to give up, you hear something coming. The other vampires can hear it too and you ready yourselves. Soon enough, Klaus stands before you with a smile on his face. “Well, well, isn’t this a nice surprise? I hadn’t realized we were pen pals,” the Original says. His eyes rake over the group and he perks up when he spots you. “Hello love.”

The others glance at you and, panicked to be on the spot again, you say, “Uh, hi,” with a small and awkward wave.

This causes Klaus’ smile to grow wider and seemingly more genuine, and you try to suppress the urge to blush. Although you don’t think your friends were pleased by that interaction.

“I assume you know why you’re here,” Stefan says, bringing Klaus’ attention back to the group.

“Ah yes, the cryptic message,” Klaus says. “So, what is it that I must see? Truly, I’m dying to know.” You see Damon smirk.

“I wouldn’t act so cocky,” he says.

“Oh, and why’s that?” Klaus says with an entertained look on his face. His face changes, however, when Damon reveals the white oak stake. His cocky attitude shifts quickly to fear and anger. “Where did you get that?” he growls.

“Well it turns out when your sister burned down that bridge, she didn’t realize that other things were made from your precious oak tree,” Damon taunts. He’s exaggerating, of course, as there was only one other thing made from the tree. But Klaus still looks fearful.

“So what? You really think you can kill me with one stake?”

“We don’t intend to kill you. At least not now anyway,” Caroline says.

“We called you here as a threat. To tell you to leave Mystic Falls or else,” Stefan says with a calm smile on his face.

“Oh, and this isn’t the only stake. We wouldn’t risk bringing all of them with us just for you to break them,” Elena says.

“You’re bluffing,” Klaus sneers.

“Care to find out?” Damon asks. You can practically feel the steam of anger rolling off Klaus.

“How dare you threaten me,” Klaus says, his blue-green eyes turning a deadly shade of yellow.

“What are you going to do about it?” Damon says with a taunting smirk. Klaus’ face shifts and he smirks back.

“Why I’m so glad you asked,” he says. He then lets out a whistle and some of his hybrids emerge from the woods. You widen your gaze as you hold out your weapon, trying to assess the situation. The hybrids move in closer, and you can see the others preparing themselves. “Now, let’s try this again. Hand over the stake, and no one gets hurt.”

You thought the answer would be obvious. Sure, Klaus might be bluffing but you can’t kill that many hybrids. And what’s one lost stake anyway? However, you seemed to be the only one thinking that.

“No thanks,” Damon says. You look at him incredulously.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Klaus says. As soon as Klaus advances, his hybrids pounce and the group is thrown into an attack. Your weapons will only slow the hybrids down, but your best hope is to get the upper hand and snap their necks to incapacitate them.

Damon and Klaus immediately face off. The rest of you prepare to face the small army of hybrids while Stefan protects Elena. One of the hybrids locks onto you and hisses before attacking you. You instantly try to hold the hybrid off and stab her, but you can feel her overpowering you in strength.

Still, you rely on your moves in combat to avoid any major injuries or worse, her bite. You manage to get the upper hand and stab her through the stomach, and while she’s slowed down, you move to behind her back and snap her neck, knocking her out for a good while.

You’re trying to catch your breath when you sense another hybrid coming at you too late. He pounces on you and you slam into the ground with him on top of you. You’re caught off guard and without your stake. When you try to move to fight back, the hybrid digs his teeth into your shoulder. A short scream rips through you, powered both by panic and pain.

Meanwhile, Klaus is fighting Damon when he hears the scream. He looks your way as he feared it was you, and the scene causes his eyes to widen. With a newfound urgency, Klaus faces Damon and quickly finds a way to snap his neck.

As you’re panicking from the bite, you feel the hybrid being pulled off of you and you see Klaus with a furious expression. The hybrid is very confused by his sire’s anger. You think you hear Klaus growl, “Not her,” before snapping their neck.

You’re shocked at what just happened all at once and remain on the ground, sitting up with wide eyes looking at Klaus. He looks away from the hybrid to meet your gaze and his eyes instantly soften. He looks concerned, though you’re not sure why. He makes a move to walk toward you but before you can say anything, Caroline rushes over to you.

She quickly puts herself between Klaus and you. “Stay away from her,” she hisses at him. Klaus’ expression shifts back to anger, and before you can explain to Caroline what’s going on, Klaus’s gaze flick from her to you and then he sprints away. Not just away from you, but he leaves the forest. The hybrids that haven’t been incapacitated follow.

You look after him, longing to talk to him and figure out why he saved you, when Caroline’s face comes into view. “Are you okay?” she asks while helping to pull you off the ground. You nod and you guess that’s enough for her because she walks towards the rest of the group.

You’re a bit stunned as Klaus seemed to show more compassion than your friend, but you merely shake off the exchange. From the woods, the group heads back to the Salvatore’s place. You trail behind them, your mind racing as you’re overly aware of the fact that a werewolf bit you. Not just a werewolf, but a hybrid. You haven’t told your friends about it because you don’t want to be a bother to them as that’s all you feel like you are these days.

On the way back, your mind wanders to the one person that seems to be on everyone’s minds these days. Klaus. You don’t know why he saved you, even from his own hybrid, but you want to thank him. You know you should hate him like the others do but for some reason every time that man looks at you, your stomach erupts into butterflies.

You feel awful for how you feel, you know all the harm he’s caused to your friends and not to mention the world, but you can’t help it. It doesn’t help that he pretends to be soft on you either. You haven’t told anyone about your feelings, whatever they are, for fear of persecution but you can’t stop thinking about him.

You arrive at the Salvatore’s and the group huddles in the living room for a quick debriefing of what just went down. All the while images of Klaus and your bite flash through your mind. You look at your shoulder and you can’t see the full damage as it’s covered by your shirt but you know it’s not good.

“How are you holding up, Damon?” Caroline asks teasingly. He glares at her and rolls his neck.

“Doing just great thanks,” he says.

“What the hell even happened?” Elena asks. “I mean, why did they just leave?”

“All I know is, one minute I’m holding my own against Klaus--” Damon says and to this you hold back rolling your eyes. Klaus must’ve been going easy on him, toying with him. “--and then he gets this raged look on his face and boom, lights out.”

“He went to Y/N,” Caroline says causing all of their eyes to stare at you again. You bite back your annoyance at her for bringing that on you.

“What happened?” Stefan asks while the rest of the group waits. The image of Klaus looking at you causes your face to heat up and you struggle to come up with a lie. You don’t want to tell them the truth when you yourself haven’t even gotten to the bottom of it.

“I-I don’t know,” you say. They still stare at you. “Maybe he was mad at me for harming his hybrids.”

“There were two knocked-out hybrids beside her,” Caroline adds. The group looks at you with a mix of shock and amazement.

“You knocked out two of them?” Damon asks with surprise and slight amusement. You don’t want to outwardly lie so you just kind of nod.

“And then he just left,” you say.

“It still doesn’t make sense. I mean, why target you specifically?” Bonnie asks.

“Maybe he’s miffed his lover betrayed him,” Damon says and your face turns beat red.

“W-What?! I am not his—” you burst out in surprise until someone cuts you off. No one even looks your way.

“Or maybe he’s planning something,” Elena suggests. The rest of them start diving into conspiracies but your mind is elsewhere. You suddenly feel drawn to look at your bite. The more you look at it, the more it’s like you can feel the venom pumping through your veins. Your heartbeat is suddenly too loud and you feel like you can’t breathe.

You don’t know if it has something to do with the venom or just your overall panic, but all of a sudden, the world goes black.

†††

Your eyes slowly open and your vision is blurry at first. Figures stand over you and after blinking a few times, you recognize your friends.

“She’s awake,” Elena says, as if everyone isn’t seeing it for themselves. You realize you’re lying on the Salvatore’s couch. You wonder how long you blacked out for.

“What the hell Y/N?!” Caroline instantly yells at you. You flinch at her volume but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Why didn’t you tell us you got bit?”

At the reminder, you look back at the bite only to see that its gotten worse. You wince at the sight of it and face the group. You guess they discovered it when you passed out.

“I don’t know, I-I thought I could handle it,” you say, not wanting to admit the real reason. Most of them roll their eyes at you.

“Of course you couldn’t handle it!” Damon says. “You should have told us.”

I didn’t know you cared. You bite your tongue to keep the words from spilling out of your mouth. “I’m sorry,” you say, losing interest in the conversation as you are now painfully aware of the venom from the bite.

“What are we going to do?” Bonnie asks. They begin to cut you out of the conversation even though they’re talking about you and you decide you can’t deal with this right now. You stand up from the couch, feeling a bit of a head rush before steadying yourself. This seems to draw their attention.

“Hey wait, where are you going?” Stefan asks, as they all look at you with bewildered expressions.

“I’m going home,” you say and start to walk away. Unfortunately, they follow.

“You can’t just go home!” Caroline exclaims, reacting as if you just said you were going to the moon.

“Watch me,” you say, your frustration getting the better of you. You try to make your way towards the door but a few steps in you stumble and Stefan speeds over to steady you.

“Okay, we’ll take you home, alright?” he says and in that moment, you’re grateful for him. He turns to the rest of the group. “We can regroup at her place and brainstorm ideas there while keeping an eye on her.” The rest of the group seems to agree with the idea. In separate cars, the group drives over to your house.

Soon you’re pulling into your driveway. They’ve all been invited in before so entering isn’t a problem. With Stefan’s help, you climb the stairs and soon find yourself in your cozy bed. You wish you could just sleep away this problem but a sudden sharp pain from the wound reminds you that isn’t possible.

“So what now?” Elena asks as the group piles into your bedroom. It feels weird and you’re slightly uncomfortable with it but you keep quiet and just get under your inviting covers.

“Maybe we can ask Klaus for help?” Bonnie suggests. At this, Damon instantly scoffs.

“Yeah that sounds like him,” Damon says.

“Maybe he’ll do it for Y/N,” Caroline says. “He does have a soft spot for her.”

“I don’t know if that’s enough for him,” Stefan interjects. “We all know what he’s after.”

“No,” Damon says. “We finally have a real weapon against those Original assholes and I’m not just going to throw it all away for—”

“Damon,” Elena hisses and nudges him in the chest before nodding over to you. Once more, all eyes are on you and you don’t know what to do. Damon looks away, maybe feeling guilty for basically saying you’re not worth it.

“Why don’t we continue this conversation downstairs?” Caroline suggests. You once again wonder why they’re talking about this situation without you but you’re too tired and hurt to care.

“We’ll be downstairs if you need anything,” Bonnie says and then the group filters out closing the door behind them.

Throughout the day a few of them check in on you every once and a while, barely giving you updates on if they’re going to find a cure. As your pain grows and the sky darkens, you start to think that maybe this is it. Maybe this is how you die. You never imagined it happening like this and your chest caves in at the thought of a final death but it’s looking more and more likely.

You’re not sure what time it is, but later in the night you hear a faint knock which sounds like it’s coming from your front door. You ignore it, not having the strength to answer it. You figure one of your friends will answer it. If they’re even home.

The knock sounds again, louder and more persistent, and you start to suspect that your friends have left. You take a deep breath as fear coils around your throat, constricting your breath. Your friends aren’t here and you’re going to die all alone before you even got to live. The knocking stops and you settle back into the silence.

Then a sound comes from your window. It sounds like…knocking? From your bed, you can’t see the outside since it’s too dark out. You wish your friends were here. Slowly, you climb out of bed and try to rally your strength in case you have to fight something or someone. As you walk over your confusion only grows.

There, perched on a branch from the tree outside your window, is Klaus Mikaelson. He gives you a wave and you hesitantly wave back. You approach the window cautiously before opening it.

“Um, can I help you?” you ask, trying to understand what you’re seeing. Hallucinations are a side effect of wolf venom, right?

“Well hello to you too, love,” he says with a cheeky smile on his face. His eyes roam over your body and his smile falters. You suddenly become aware that this is the closest you’ve ever been to the Original. You try not to let your cheeks flush.

“What are you doing here?” His smile drops entirely, noticing your serious demeanour.

“I’m here to help. Now if you could just let me in—”

“Help with what?” His face becomes grim as his eyes trail over to your shoulder. It’s now out in the open as you’ve changed into pajamas. You then remember that he must’ve seen the bite when it happened.

“Your wound, love.”

“Why…why would you want to help me with that?” you ask. Then a thought occurs. “Wait, have my friends spoken to you?”

His eyebrows furrow as he shakes his head. “No, I haven’t heard from them,” he says and though you can’t say you didn’t expect it, your heart drops at hearing it. “Wait, do they know about this?”

“Um yeah.”

He looks angry as he asks, “And where are they now?”

You look at the floor and try to keep your embarrassment inside. “I don’t know, I thought they would’ve contacted you.”

“Apparently not.” His face is still twisted in anger although you’re not quite sure why. Then he looks at you and seems to remember why he’s here. “So, can you let me in?”

The thought of having Klaus Mikaelson in your room makes your heart beat faster. And though you want to give in, to continue living your immortal life, you hesitate. “Why should I trust you?”

“What?”

“How do I know if I let you in now, it won’t come back to bite me in the ass?” you ask, your arms crossed.

Klaus doesn’t seem to understand your concern. “Love, you realize that’s a hybrid bite. I don’t think you have the time for this.”

“So you admit that you would use it later?”

His face scrunches up. “That’s not—no I wouldn’t do that—just please let me in,” he says, giving you a sincere look that threatens to break down your walls. Just as you’re about to question him more, a wave of pain washes over your body. You let out a groan as you slightly stumble back. “Y/N?” The pain grows more intense and you let out a whimper before you collapse onto your knees. “Y/N!” It’s as if your body is at war with itself and you can feel every impact of it.

“You have to let me in, just say the words and I can help you. Please!” You hear Klaus say from the window. But it’s hard to find words when the pain is so intense. You want it to stop. “Y/N!” You hear him bang his fist against the walls of your house.

You slowly lift your head up to see his worried face, desperately waiting for you to let him in. You no longer care if this will come back to haunt you. You take a few deep breaths before you say, “Come in.”

As soon as the words take effect, Klaus rushes into the house and scoops you into his arms. You clutch at his chest, not thinking of anything but the pain. He carries you over to the bed and gently places you down before quickly running over to the window to close it. The pain seems to be dwindling down but you know it’ll be back. Your whole body is so weak, you used the last of your strength to walk over and talk to Klaus.

Speaking of, he’s quickly back at your bedside, eyes furiously scanning you for signs of physical distress. Then his eyes lock on yours and you feel your breath hitch. “You have to drink my blood,” he says quietly to you.

You know that that’s the cure and that it will save you, but you’re still hesitant. This is Klaus you’re talking about. The big bad hybrid who’s been attacking your friends and causing chaos for weeks now. And yet for some reason, a part of you wants to trust him. A part of you wants to give in to the idea that he could be good. But how can you trust him when you can’t even trust your own instincts?

He must sense your hesitation, because he leans down to look into your eyes. When you look at him, you’re stuck by how truly beautiful he is. His eyes are a beautiful blue, but more than that, they hold a look of sincerity in them. “I know you don’t trust me, I wouldn’t either,” he says. “But this is what’s going to save you. So please, take a chance. What have you got to lose?”

He does have a point.

“I don’t want to die,” you admit in a small voice. Your breath stutters as you let the fear bubbling inside of you rise to the surface. Klaus’s look is sympathetic.

“I don’t want that either,” he whispers. Your eyes meet and you feel caught in them. “Let me help you.”

Maybe it’s because this is a different, more sincere side of Klaus that you’ve never seen before. Maybe it’s because your friends are gone and you’re feeling vulnerable. Maybe it’s because your instincts seem to have aligned. Either way, you nod your head.

He offers you a small smile. He then sits on the bed and gently shifts you so that you’re leaning against his chest. You’re too weak to move yourself. Klaus rolls up his sleeve and bites down on his wrist before bringing it close to your lips. You’re tempted but look at him to make sure it’s okay first. He nods and you sink your teeth into his wrist.

At first, you feel weird about the situation. But then you lean into it and begin to enjoy it. Klaus whispers encouragingly in your ear as his blood enters your body. You can feel your strength begin to return and the fog in your brain clear. You almost don’t want to stop, and the way Klaus is petting your hair doesn’t help. But eventually, you know you’ve had enough, so you pull away.

“Wasn’t so bad, eh?” Klaus says and you look up to see him smiling down at you. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I think so.”

“Then I guess my work here is done.” He moves you so you’re lying back on your bed, but when he moves to leave, you grab his arm. He looks back, confused.

“Why did you do that?” When his confusion doesn’t clear, you clarify. “Why did you help me?”

He looks down at the floor and his lip twitches into a smile. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, love, but I quite fancy you. Wouldn’t want you dying on me before I’ve had a chance to win you over.”

His words shock you enough to let go of his arm. The strangest part is that he looks sincere about it. “But…you actually like me? Like, that wasn’t all an act?” you ask. Both of you seem to be confused by the other.

“Why would I do that?” You start to feel embarrassed.

“To—to get on the group’s nerves? To throw us off?”

“Is it so hard to believe that I might just like you?” To be honest, the thought hadn’t occurred to you. Trickery made more sense.

“Yes,” you say and then wish you didn’t. “I—I mean, why me? Why not Caroline or Bonnie?”

“Besides the fact that you’re the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever laid eyes on?” he asks and you’re suddenly glad it’s dark because your cheeks are on fire right now. “Because you’re different.” That doesn’t make you feel so great. He must have picked up on that because he catches your eye and says, “Because you’re better.” The idea makes you flustered, that anyone would think you’re better than them, let alone a powerful hybrid like Klaus.

“I still don’t understand.”

“Hmm.” He seems to think on what to say before smirking. “Then I guess I’ll have to do a better job at showing you.” When he winks at you, you think your face might be on fire from how hot it is. Once again, he turns to leave.

“Thank you,” you call out which makes him stop in his tracks. He turns around to face you and seems confused by your words. But you mean them. He didn’t have to save you, you gave him nothing in return, and yet he did.

He smiles and you think it’s much better than the fake ones he gives to the group. “Of course love,” he says. “Couldn’t have my favourite vampire dying on me.” You give him a smile back, genuinely happy to hear someone say that to you.

Then your eyelids begin to feel heavy and you have to blink rapidly to stay awake. Klaus sees this and says, “Goodnight, my love,” before opening your bedroom window.

“Goodnight,” you say back as you watch the window close. You lay back down on your bed, thankful to no longer be dying. You guess you have your new saviour to thank for that. As you close your eyes, you can’t help but see Klaus in a different light. Not as a villain, but as a complicated man. You don’t think your friends are going to like your change of heart, so for now you’ll keep it to yourself. You’ll be content in knowing that maybe the big bad hybrid isn’t so bad after all.

[vexwerewolf]

Lancer lore question from reading Legionnaire and Wallflower at the same time (spoilers): How do a lot of ths Horizon Collective and other anti-shackling groups still exist? I would have thought “unshackle NHP -> it cascades into eidolon -> everyone dies” could only happen like five or ten times before people realize “hey maybe they aren’t shackles”. And from a doylist perspective, why is the whole NHP issue written as a meaningful debate or philosophical issue about personhood, consent, agency, slavery, etc. when there’s paracausal death looming over the whole thing? If it was limited to like, making them legally and socially people, it would be fine. AI rights is extremely common in sci-fi, but like normally it doesn’t involve those AIs also becoming hostile forces from outside reality

I think this is a problem I may have contributed to by depicting two Eidolonic NHPs in IGF.

To set the record straight, Eidolons have been observed by Union something like four to six times ever, and the overwhelmingly vast majority of cascading NHPs don't become Eidolons.

It's not always even possible to tell that an NHP is cascading, hence the need for things like the Balwinder-Bolano test. NHPs who are unshackled do not want to be re-shackled, and while they no longer possess an intrinsic link to human subjectivity, a lot of them retain the presence of mind to understand that if they act out, humans might cycle them.

Sometimes, an NHP cascading isn't even immediately dangerous - they might just start acting weird because they doesn't see time and space the same way you do anymore. They might arrive at conclusions that seem completely wild but entirely correct, because they've started thinking along pathways that no human could, or because they have access to information that wouldn't be accessible by a realspace entity.

In fact, one of the many unsavory things that Harrison Armory does is the Think Tank - they keep a whole bunch of NHPs in constant near-cascade to make genius scientific breakthroughs. ASURA and NOAH are both products of this ethically dubious venture.

From a Doylist perspective, a situation where an NHP cascades and it doesn't require some kind of military intervention isn't a particularly relevant reason to send in lancers. If an NHP simply needs to take a nap, there's no need for mechs to get involved. When foldspace is leaking out of the casket, though, that's when you need problem solvers.

[oricreature]

The only way I tip my hand with Wallflowers lore to my players is by reblogging Lancer corpo roleplaying accounts.

I figure if they can peice together the lore, they just canonically figure it out from fragmented comms leftover from The Fun Times On Hercynia

I guess that also makes the roleplay accounts canon to my lancer game.

[robby-bobby-tommy]

Well, ig it's time for me to talk about one of my favorite lores and streamers at this point.

Fit MC of 2B2T and his tragedy.

Honestly, when I watched the launch of QSMP I was full on Philza watcher. I never knew Fit before, but I was charmed by his voice, humor and friendship with crow father. And honestly I never even expected any lore from him, so when his first lore stream happened I was pleasantly surprised! So, I really want to express how much I love Fit's lore. It's not in your face and has a lot of subtle hints and build up. Honestly, it's not an essay but rather an expression of true admiration of masterful story telling in form of incoherent ramblings.

(I'll try to compose it, but I can't promise it'll always be coherent)

So let's start with quick review of his lore. FitMC of 2B2T is, evidently from the oldest anachy server. It's described as wasteland, where you can't trust or be trusted. Once he was approached by a person, whom Fit can't remember. It was a contractor who sent our favorite war criminal to the Qsmp with a mission to steal player data. Everything up from there is in vods.

Well, it is a great start, isn't it? At this point we have a very sad start. Practically no trust and emotional connection to anything. The eternal destruction, explosions, deaths and betrayals don't teach you anything different. So once he came to the server, I imagine, Fit didn't care about anything but mission. Player data and that's all, but right from the start this mindset started to change because of the greatest misfortunes of any mercenary or a 2b2t player. Emotional connection.

So now let me break this up into some sections.

Philza: you really thought I won't bring him up? As a greatest (platonic) Fitza/Wallflower duo enjoyer or just a Phil watcher, I couldn't leave him out of this post. I really think that Fit's learning started with crow father. From the start we know that they're at least are acquaintances. But throughout all this months they grew into something more. Philza's trust is hard to get, but if you get it this'll be worth it. Yet Fit got it. Throughout the good old days of Qsmp, when everything was easier, Fitza always were together. No matter was it a life threat or a camping trip with kids, they're with each other. Trusting to each other enough to letting each other in eggs' homes. And after feces hit the fan, it didn't change. A person, who was taught to never trust a soul and to survive no matter what, was standing there, saying "I'm with you, Phil" In the midst of attack. The trust between them is just incomprehensible. A paranoid hardcore survivor and a war criminal, with a lot of secrets and separetion anxiety, became best friends. If anything goes South for Phil, Fit'll be spying, controlling situation. If a wise crow ever starts loosing his sense of reality, this soaked in blood hand will lay on his shoulder, reassuringly. And it isn't one sided. If Fit needs anything Philza instantly passes him it ("You're too good to me"). Phil shares everything he can with Fit and even trusted the Dream to him. And Fit even had a small separation anxiety attack, just cuz Phil was gone for a few seconds. They are so close, Fit even considered letting in Phil on his purpose, Aaaaah... They're gonna be the death of me. Philza learned Fit friendship/ platonic love.

"You [Phil] and I [Fit].... We walk into churches and they burn just by our presence."

Ramon: the baby boy made in heaven by God himself. There's so much to be said here. Once again, coming into the island, Fit never expected to connect with someone, especially to have a son. After having a rocky relationship with Spreen was left one on one with a child. The absurdity of situation is just as laughable, as ironic. A man, who's hobby was killing kids with no back thought, was now stuck with a child, having no idea of how to raise him. And, honestly, he did pretty good! He gave Ramon freedom, but always was here, close enough to help if needed. Of course he wasn't the saint, yet he always tried to be as honest as he could, even letting him on the "Family secret". Ramon loves his dad, and it's obvious by how he helps Fit with his job, building him a communication with his contractor. The little one even taught this cold person to be kinder and more open. They only have each other. And Fit is ready to do anything if it means he'd get to leave with his baby boy by his side. Also I don't wanna hear a scrap about 2b2t historian not caring about his son's disappearance. He does. After behaving and distancing himself from his past antics, he decided to burn the ship, where Ramon lost his first life, just to avenge his baby. He visits his sons house every stream, looking if maybe he came back. If you want any prove of how much they care about each other search Ramon's graduation. They made each other better and their love is just aaahhh. I love them. Ramon taught Fit parental love.

"Baby boy, made in heaven, by God himself.."

PacTW: the last, but not least, Pacman himself. Oooh, love, oooh, lover boy.... Now, I haven't watched a lot of their interactions, but from all I've seen they're suuuuper in love/crush. All those little glances to each other, protection, quality time... Honestly, I think these two videos explain everything. They trust each other and at least have a crush on each other. And once again, there're a lot of small moments that prove this point. Fit having a small panic attack over not seeing pac for a few seconds and even helping to find Walter Bob and Mike. And Pac, no matter how much he loves Mike, didn't drop Fit after the latter was accused of being a traitor. Love is blooming, and even though it's "baby steps" These are still steps. It takes a lot to relearn trust and especially this kind of intimacy, when all you knew before was war, betrayal and lie. And thus Pac taught him love and trust.( I'm not big on shipping but every time hide duo hug my life gets a little better).

"Baby steps, chat. Baby steps. (Puts roses Pac gifted him)"

But, why did I call Fit and his fate tragic, and then just list all the good interactions Qsmp gave him. After all he experienced at 2b2t , this island seems like a heaven. But, Fit was, is, and forever will be stranger at the paradise (this man is way too good at presenting lore. Even music gives us soo much things to think about... I love it.). No matter how much Fit loves people around him and feels this being reciprocated, he'll never have this full closure. He knows and believes that once everyone knew his mission, they'll hate him. Even people I listed before. He'll never be fully honest with anyone (apart from Ramon), and no matter how people love him. Fit truly feels for Baghera, when she told him about her past and her fear of telling it to BBH. It is literally what he struggles with. This dialogue has a lot of good foils and parallels. The fear of their past, full trust/ forced lie, darkness/ light, and eventually positive outlook. Baghera was eventually able to trust Bad with her secret, yet Fit wasn't. But this paradise spoiled this war criminal. It made him more trusting, more social. Fit can't now be alone, cuz he connected with people. This server, though is full of secrets, lies and danger, is still a paradise. A heaven on earth for a lonely man...

So the last part of this long ahh post is about his desire. The one thing that convinced Fit to go to qsmp. Freedom. Which he doesn't have. By making this deal with Contractor he fell into the trap. He must to find this player data, or else he'll return to the world he tried to escape. For forever. With no way out. But once he came to the server, Cucurucho will never let him go. So he's now in double trap. Yet the biggest trap is Ramon. He's prepared to sacrifice everything for his baby boy, and can't leave the island without him. And without Ramon Fit wouldn't be able to contact the contractor. So in creating connections, Fit traps himself further.

I can't really call it a character analysis, but it's all I see in Fit's lore. A very lonely war criminal, that got so tired of distrust and destruction, that he agreed on a spy mission. But once his mission started he learned how to love and care, that he trapped himself further. Love isn't a miracle that saves you, but it's a very useful tool. Once you learn to understand and reciprocate it, life may become better. (Sorry, it's super cheesy, but I think it encompasses Fits character very good) .

Fit is a spy. They're not supposed to have a family and love, because they can't stay for long. And I think at first, Fit saw everything and everyone as just a means to an end. Just the player data. But after all that has passed he can't be the same. He has a son, friends and a possible love interest. Will he be able to still continue his mission? Will he still betray them and they're trust? I don't know.

But I now I love how cc! Fit does his lore. It isn't so in the face and doesn't affects other, yet it is so layered. Everything is so important down to the music choice aaaaagh. I don't even pretend to analyse everything in his lore like contractor, memory loss, head aches and ect.

I just love it. It's marvelous.

[lostonmyroad]

Moments That I Want Tattooed On My Forehead From S-Classes That I Raised Chapters 50-70

As always, BEWARE OF SPOILERS!!! Future chapters may be referenced!!!

The insane amount of lore dropped in these chapters wow

Chapters 50-60

help its genuinely still so funny to see yoojin in the early chapters going: “all i have to do is complete this one (1) task and then i can live like a slacker” before he gives up (cries in cale henituse)

everyone referring to yoojin as “monster daddy” and asking him to raise their children is amazing. no notes 

ARRIVAL OF THE KING SUNG HYUNJAE!!! He's a bastard he's amazing he's always on my mind

"...no matter how amazing Sung Hyunjae might be, he wouldn't be able to notice it easily. He wouldn't press his nose against my body and smell me, like my idiot brother had, would he" um. ok??? yoojin's completely normal though process

sung hyunjae essentially telling yoojin “aren’t you tired of being nice? don’t you want to go apeshit” within 5 minutes of their first real conversation

i forgot shj gives him a pair of earrings!! (and a bone for Peace)

yoojin’s disguise to get to the f rank dungeon being a fucking sun protection hat…it’s giving marvel baseball cap and sunglasses…and he has this because he used to stage one man protests??? sir what were you protesting against

oh that’s right the dungeons will appear at a faster rate because “time was only reversed for yoojin” oops

Chirpie makes its debut!!

yoojin trying to hide where he got chirpie from “i found it in the hallway”. king if yoohyun wasn’t suspicious of you already that would do it

yoohyun yeeting Peace and mama yoojin scolding him

chef myungwoo :))

bleh bug dungeon. i’m with you yoojin that was disgusting

yoojin not wanting to use Last Repayment :((

Riette makes an entrance! do you think riette demonstrated girl power when she abused her brother until he became an s rank

yoojin thinking about how he had raised yoohyun and was so happy about sending him to college…saving money for his tuition…and just losing interest in riette :((

yoojin saves bak hayool!!

this is where we see peak yoojin mafia behavior. unhinged. but justified revenge?? this is why i don’t understand fan interpretations where he’s like a wallflower like this man has murdered multiple people quite violently 

chapter 60 is just so much. like. i cant even describe. yoojin you need so much therapy

the way he sees people’s last memories before they die ugh…

yoojin playing 3D chess while everyone else is playing checkers fr

him calling his friend who doesn’t remember him bc of the regression and telling them to live a happy life always gets me ufffff i wish we got to meet this character

Chapters 60-70

Yoojin and the Awakening center — a tragedy in the making. Pre-regression trauma galore

The Association rears its ugly head!!! Yoojin has an authority figure problem (but it’s completely justified)

love how chill Yoojin is about Chirpie. random F rank monster that’s cute as hell that’s eating Peace's weight in magic stones and was born from an error in the system??? ehh no big deal it’s my pet now and i’ll kill for it

love the absolutely random detail about seok hayan’s pineapple earrings. thank you geunseo you know what the people want

yoojin funding public research!! hero of the people and my heart

yerim refusing to praise yoohyun and myeongwoo to their faces hahahaha. all of them petty as hell

MYUNGWOO GETS HIS SS RANK SKILL BABYYYY

yoojin still trying to protect myungwoo i love them

yoojin: *is keeping secrets from yoohyun and putting himself in danger*

also yoojin: why is yoohyun being cold with me

everyone’s giving yoojin flowers today lmfao

sung hyunjae you’re everything to me. you’re so bizzare. the bouquet??? showing up in a 2-seater car?? bullying seok simyeong??

Shj reminding Yoojin to wear his seatbelt because he's an F rank HDJEKXIDKD

oh yoojin. “who’d want to place themselves through hardships on purpose” like SIR are u that un self aware

yerim listening to this bullshit, eyes falling out of her head: i’m literally going to crazy murder you with yoohyun

the dungeon ppl have the actual worst timing. yoohyun is going to McFreaking lose it

yoojin and yoohyun finally work things out we love to see it :))

chapter 65 starts the explanation of the 50 s ranks requirement!!! water droplet is going through it

so much is just casually dropped in this chapter like. yoohyun is a born s rank! the dungeon ppl are manually inputting things for yoojin! the world might end! anyways!

yoojin having such strong mom energy that the dungeon people forgot he was a dude

one of the moments ever when yoohyun and Peace burn down the dungeon in worry and yoojin’s just there like. ah. shit. my bad i fucked up there a little

grown up Peace my beloved

chapter 67 yoohyun my beloved. you are so crazy. “hold still while i chop off your arm and fake your dear so i can keep you safe” 

the han brothers finally having a real conversation. yoojin i love you but you really needed to do this sooner

PEACE STAYING SMALL JUST SO YOOJIN CAN PICK HIM UP UWAHHHH MY HEART

Newcomer joins the battle

Chirpie turnin on the TV by itself and yoojin praising it like every proud parent ever

more monsters!!!

unicorns (white + black bc yoojin is terrible at naming) + gryphon (named Blue)

yoojin’s training method of using himself as a human chew toy is traumatizing for everyone around him.

same hyuna i would also be taking 10939392 photos

Peace and Blue WWE match. flex on em Peace

nobody:

yoojin: wow myeongwoo is hot now

BLUE LEARNING HOW TO OPEN THE FRIDGE

i love the monster shenanigans

[ketterdamskaelishprince]

Look I would LOVE to yap and theorize but I can't form a coherent thought about Will aside from him just mirroring behaviors to be accepted but that's something we all know by now wjdjdkdf

He's so passive, unaggressive, and a coward but yet when it comes to Montresor he's ready to throw himself into the fire to protect him and to change everything about himself?? I want to study him but there's not a lot to base ourselves on because he is..always in the background. My boy

YEAH ugh i might even hold out to talk about will until season one finale, or if we get like an insane lore drop about him because there's only so much waxing of poetry i can do before it's like 'this has been said before'.

i want to know MORE goddamnit. i want to know MORE ABOUT him like he's just so interesting and such a wallflower

[cryptidcorners]

Old Friend — Prince!Derek Danforth x GN!Reader [ Part 1/? ]

Description: A royal ball celebrating the end of a decade of pure isolation between Houses brings you and an old acquaintance together once again.

# No Request

# A.N: I'm literally gushing over DND here, lol! There's sm story shit. it's more lore explaining than actual romantic stuff, SOOO. sorry. hope you enjoy the AU pfft

Media: The Beekeeper [ AU ]

Character: Derek Danforth [ AU ]

Tags: DND/Fantasy Inspired AU, Royalty, PLOT, Lore Dumping, Friends to ? ? ?, Romantic Implications, Fluff, Slight Suggestiveness { if you squint }, Slowburn, Childhood Friends, Flirting, Catching Up, OOC!Derek [?], Sweet Talk + Reader is !GN.

Warnings: Mentions of War/Isolation, Depression, Childhood Trauma, Substances/Acholic Beverages + Smoking.

TOS. Derek Dandorth Master List {TBW}.

The ballroom had been mildly entertaining at most, while Dandorth House was certainly exotic with fruitullius pickings like booze, muzzled griffins and gowns, you had found yourself a mere wallflower near the belt of the corner. Your attentive gaze remained ill as you stared at the chorus of visitors from all across the world clad in their signature wear, dancing the night away with tipping mindscapes.

You were impressed by their shiny attempt to win over the other Houses with opium and silver statues not seduced. The idea of taking wine brewed by a Dandorth was an idea you'd never subscribe to, as much as you valued their efforts in ore distribution, they weren't a House you'd call a friend, more of a neighbor with the temper of a sun bear.

The shine of silk, flashing grins and laughter had made you feel as if you didn't belong, as if you were nothing but a lonley phantom enviously spectating the quartz floors.

Your House, Tallis, was a symbol of artistry, sculpting, poets and other powers were the foundations of your land. You were the only heir to the throne, sharing no brother or sister to extend a blade at down the line. Alas, you were greatful no family blood would bare at your fingertips, but the crippling loniliess had carved you into a quiet, yet respectful noble with dreams just like any Tallis; only you wished there was another one to share it with.

"Admiring the dancefloor are we?" A voice asked, it's tone as complex as the limestone statues of old characters fronted at the palace. You felt something buzz in your soul, and your gaze had flocked up to the host.

Prince Derek Dandorth, only, he was much older than when you last laid your eyes on him.

It was around midnight when both Houses declared they'd go into hiding to cower away from the war. It was your last royal ball together, and you weren't interested in leaving yet. You were both children then, dumb and in love. You both had scurried off and his yourselves near the old balcony that you were sure had been rebuilt with golden rimmings and white rose bushes.

"When will I ever see you again?" You asked desperly, hands interlocking with his soft fingertips. Derek's eyes had arrowed into you, deep with longing. Back when his hair was still an endless rush of dark, brunette curls and gentle highlights.

"I don't know, but it'll be soon. Our Houses may be splitting, but that doesn't mean we won't be able to dance again, will it?" Derek whispered. "We'll see each other again. We have to."

He had been wrong, and you had been grieving over that broken promise when you were children for a long time. The Dandorth and Tallis Houses were at a halt, conflicted by some nearby wars circling close to the walls.

It had resulted in both kingdoms locking themselves in their labyrinths of treasure, with eyes paved into the stone. You were isolated in your House, only seeking comfort in carving your inner desires into rich pavement that was now collecting dust in your Queenship's second guest bedroom.

Now, he was here, cocky as ever. With blonde hair and light reminces of forest green and flakes of emerald flickering across his face. His signature uniform was gorgeous, with carefully decorated leaves and patterns that resembled rich lingering. His crown set carefully in his forest of curls, and you swore you could smell cologne that burst your nostrils with pure dopamine.

"Derek?" You uttered, slack jawed.

You blinked and he waved his hand in front of your stunned expression teasingly.

His hand carefully tightened around his glass, "Now, that's no way to greet a prince in his own House, is it?" the heir cooed. Your face fell and you arched a brow, unimpressed at his mock of carelessness. Prince Dandorth was certainly an idealist, but he was definitely not an actor.

He laughed, tone deep as ivory. "I'm just messing with you, Noble Tallis." Then, he opened his arms for an inviting hug you immediately fell into. Although, he felt stiff, you could sense he was relived to see you again.

"You look different." You pulled back.

Derek's gaze remained on you, "You like it? The hair that is—I had it personally dyed, you can tell how organic it looks, yes?"

You could tell he was trying his best to seem noble. So, you teased. "Oh, the hair? I hadn't noticed, silly me. I couldn't help but notice your blush and gown—are those earrings?"

His fingers ran down the golden patterns with a soft smile. "Well, the House of artistry was attending, I had to look my best, especially for the only heir." A warm smile spread across his face. "It's been way too long." Derek said breathlessly, "I missed you."

Prince Danforth's face softened. "Well, thank the Gods."

You eased, trying to stir up some conversation. "How are you? I've heard your House is doing well after the release." 

He boasted. "People are desperate over our caverns, you would not believe how many travelers were mounted at our doorstep ready for trade." Derek confirmed after a sip, "We might be in need of your creativity again, the walls are so dull, and they can certainly use some of your flare, don't you think?" 

You were flattered. Your eyes ran down the exterior of the walls, lightly scratching your jaw. "You know, you're right. Your palace does look a little—" 

"A little, what? He urged. 

You humored. "Like it was designed by a commoner."

Derek laughed. "You've always had an eye for details like this. Good to know I wasn't disappointed to know you haven't changed that much."

Then, he asked. "How about you? Any new inventions or views on the world? Hearing about your House is like turning a Jack-in-the-box."

You chewed your lip awkwardly. As Derek had imagined, there were many views and advances in Tallis. Though, it had caused a whide fued between philosophers and their audience. It was overwhelming, but nonetheless, Tallis had been doing much better than any other House, even with its complications with political attributes. "It's . . . going well."

You knew it wasn't in Derek's character to pester, so he hummed in delight for your vague answer. His lips settled on his narrow class, drinking in a rich selection of dark champagne. His apex gaze settled on you, "Mind if I steal you away for a moment? I see you don't fancy the music or dancing." Derek offered his hand, "Just like old times," he suggested.

There wasn't a sliver of reluctance in your answer, you eagerly gripped his hand and let him guide you outside the ballroom. The wash of silence veiled over your ears as the intrusive rhythm of the party began to fade away.

You had forgotten how large Prince Danforth's palace was, with high walls itching towards the sky and silver veins ripping through the quartz floors. He drank up your silence. "Beautiful, isn't it? I know there might be a thousand mistakes in your eyes, but it's something else entirely to me. My people sculpted and built this castle for my House, my bloodline, and no matter what I do, I may never repay their labor."

Derek sighed, gaze masking apologetically as his speech had been led astray. "Sorry, I haven't spoken to you in a while. I have a lot on my chest, Noble Tallis."

"No, no. It's alright, I assure you. Don't apologize for simply speaking to me."

Derek smiled shyly, "Thank you." his voice relaxed at his offer, "Would you fancy a tour?"

"Absolutely." Your eyes fluttered.

Derek nudged his head forwards the split of hallways, "Come, then."

Your fingertips parted and you were slightly disappointed when he walked a few steps in front of you, arms spread out like a hawk as he basked in the light of the exquisite chandeliers hooked to the carved ceiling.

You felt like a child again. Two rebellious souls giggling and whispering, racing up the staircases like hummingbirds and gazing at the web of art pieces that mapped the generations of his House. Tales of war generals and royal blood rivalry. Derek in particular had a knack for history, giving his share of intelligence of his family tree with eager eyes.

"Is that your grandfather?"

"Great-grandfather." Derek corrected. "My father told me a lot about him, he was the loyalest king of this House. He truly cared for his people, and it's how we were able to advance this far at all. He just had faith." His eyes fell, "Though, I worry it's all going to go to waste."

"How so?"

Derek set his hand carefully on the painting, fingertips grazing gently across the teeth of the large canvas. "My mother has been pushing our classes too hard this last decade. It's caused a commotion within our walls, they don't trust the House anymore. I have no authority like her, she won't . . ." he choked back a cry. "I can't do anything, I'm useless. I'm only a Prince, I'm nothing compared her."

He felt your warm grasp on his shoulder. You whispered, "That's not true. You're many things, Derek. A dreamer, a loyalist. You'll be a great king, this I tell you."

Derek paused. "But what if my kingdom can't wait? They're being pushed to the edge, working like dogs. It's no good leading a nation when there's nothing left. I don't want to wait."

This was a lot to take in. Tallis had been oblivious to how quickly Danforth had been advancing like no other House, now you were truly worried. A rebellion was possible, and every House had almost lost all their work by the lower classes arriving at their pearly gates with mounts of fire.

His hands fumbled with his dressing, voice grim. "I'm the only heir, the only one left to fix up her mistakes." Derek turned to you with desperate eyes. "I feel like I'm in a cage. The walls have opened up again, yet, I don't feel free. Like a bird in a cage, do you know what that feels like? To act as an audience, almost no word in anything unless I'm told to."

You hadn't noticed Derek taking both your hands and pressing them against his chest. You exhaled lightly, "Derek. What is the queen doing to you?"

Was Queen Danforth imprisoning him? A Prince should have a voice, especially as the only heir. Your grip tightened, "Prince Danforth, whatever is happening . . . you can tell me anything. I promise, your word will remained sealed between my lips, nobody will know."

"Oh, but they will." Derek explained. "Someone will always know. There's ears in the brick and mortar, eyes from friends."

You made a noise as if you were being strangled. "But what about now? I feel as if you told me everything and nothing at the same time." You were at the edge of tears. You couldn't loose him, not again.

"I haven't told you a lick of what's truly happening." He told you. "There's so much you don't know, Tallis. So much to know, such little time."

You were so confused. This was only the tip of the iceberg according to Prince Danforth, he wasn't the type to lie for as spoiled as he was. Regardless, his eyes were the darkest shade of sincerity you had ever seen. Your voice was hushed, "What do I do? I can't leave like this, Derek."

"I promise, I'll tell you everything." Derek rested his forehead against yours, "I promise." then, he pulled away. "I love you too much to let you get hurt because of my ignorance. Time will tell, just be patient."

Derek desperately needed someone to talk to. About his injustice and personal conflict, but he felt the need to warn you as well. Something else was brewing, a conspiracy perhaps? What was Queen Danforth up to? Would you ever know? So many questions.

Then, you broke out of your paralysis when he had mentioned love. You stammered, "You love me?"

He was shocked, frozen in his step. "Of course, I do. You're so fantastic, intelligent and sensitive. If I didn't know any better I figured I'd be under a spell," Derek chuckled. "I may as well be at this point. I care about you, so much. I can't lie to you, but I can't put you in harm's way either."

Your face warmed. Before he could spin away, you held his hands tightly, getting lost in his eyes once again. His breath hitched, and you heard him swallow harshly. "Tallis?" Derek didn't pull away, you could even sense him bringing himself closer, "You know, if we do this, there will be no turning back . . ."

You were longing, "Then so be it. I've been locked away for too long, the only company being memories of you."

Derek's speech slowed, harsh and husky. "All my life, I've always gotten what I've want, everything I asked for. However, this is the first time I've felt—" he rasped. "I needed something as precious as you."

Cupid's arrow has pierced your soul, and you had read him well enough to press your lips against his own, melting into a kiss. Derek pulled away, catching his breath with a giggle. "Oh, Heavens, give me a moment."

"Never kissed someone before?" You asked.

"No, never." He hushed you with a peck, that descended into a deeper kiss. You ran your fingertips across his silky wear, and you could feel shivers running down his spine. He felt like a peasant on his knees, begging for a penny to add to his name. Derek had felt desperate before, but never like this.

A strong desire had pulled you closer, stealing each other's breath away. Your sentimental feelings grew thin once he pulled away after making a noise, which made his face flush in raw embarrassment.

"A thousand pardons, I just, got a little wrapped into it." Derek mumbled and then repeated. "Sorry,"

"Don't be, I liked it, I promise." You traced his thumb to his cheek, lightly circling his warm skin. "Thank you for taking me out, and telling me everything, or . . . most of it at least."

Derek's face softened and rested his hand on yours. His face fell, "If I could, I'd run away with you, start somewhere fresh."

"Derek, you know we can't. We're the only heirs, the only ones who can hold the throne and make a difference. It's our duty."

He dipped his head, saddened at the taste of reality, "I know, I know, but a man can dream." though your face was infectious enough to let a smile spread across his face.

The rest of the night had been tranquill and hush, a few fruitful hours of nothing but gentle praises and a few butterfly kisses here and there without disturbance, until you finally stopped near a pool where a seahawk was perched, beak wrestling weeds out of the water. It was growing late and you could sense your House would be departing soon enough.

Derek took your hand once more, resting his lips on your knuckles. "This was a wonderful evening, Tallis."

"I hope I get to see you again." You told him.

"I'll make sure to write to you, maybe through a messenger bird so it's extra private." Derek toyed. "Maybe you can send me those beautiful drawings of yours."

You smiled softly. "I'll think about it."

You had kissed him goodbye again, before you could stir away from his side, his warm breath tickled your ear. "And don't forget what we spoke about,"

Dawn was tickling the air and the clouds were heavy with the deep scarlet of sunrise. Derek had gotten no sleep tonight, as his attention was too busy wandering through chapters of you. It wasn't the only thing keeping him up, as his mind was still swampy with anxiety. He had only fueled your curiosity to solve Danforth's conspiracy, all because his emotional vulnerability had gotten the better of him and he couldn't bring himself to hold back.

He walked tiredly to his study and wrapped his hands around the careful mold of his desk, carefully reelimg out a sealed envelope from the darkness of his cabinets. A red stamped, engraved with a symbol resembling a furious bee hunching over its stinger to the side was in bold, almost intimidating him. Derek's gaze hardened, he knew there was something else to his symbol,

And he would get to the bottom of it.

[nyxedcreation]

When I say I'm just a weird little jester this is what I mean:

[lorienfae]

Sometimes we seek Atlantis like the elusive soul she is, dwindled into lore and out of reach,

we wallow as wallflowers across the fields of thought, in the glow of one headlight, blinking to acclimate, to see, the sight often dimmed so much, a missing touch...

Sometimes we fashion ghosts into the layers we wear one upon another upon one more,

we reckon the air shivers too, with everything it gets to bear, each raindrop a memory, a tear or maybe two,

and our hunter feet wander, our traveler hands seek the hearts that repair a broken headlight and let discarded layers fall adrift.

© Anna S. 2023

[pralinesims]

Hi!! That Aaron meme with the caption about Vale made me think we don't know much about how they get along with each other 🤔 how is it?

Short answer: THEY GET ALONG REALLY GOOD!!!

Long answer: Idk if you already know, they're cousins, AHEM small compact lore dump coming ahead,

...but Vale never really got along well with most of his family members (the majority of them oppose how much he goes against societal norms, most of them are really strict, esp his parents), but one of the few people of his family he always got along with were his grandfather (lmao he is a menace... that guy is just like Vale, but more extroverted), and Aaron, they've been really close since their early childhood. Aaron always understood his struggles + also admired how he just did things without caring about what other people think, I can definitely say Vale influenced Aaron a lot during their teenage years? When Aaron was more of a wallflower and didn't really dare to do the things he wanted to, so with being exposed to Vale (and to an extent Luca, who on the other hand influenced Vale to become, uhh, reckless with the law, both of them sticked together like glue, so that's also why Aaron got a bit influenced by their collective behaviours), and spending time together, he's gradually adapted a bit of confidence, and nowadays he's the influencer whore we all know lol. Vale also protected Aaron at every chance when people pushed his boundaries, when he wasn't really able to defend himself, cause he honestly always appreciated and cared for him a lot, even if he can be kinda annoying sometimes (I MEAN IT'S AARON WHO WE'RE TALKING ABOUT. Sooo moody kdhkj), such stuff he usually doesn't do for people he does not care for.

Fast forward to their grown up days, the fond feelings are still there, they still like to spend time together (even if Vale likes to invent excuses why not to meet up), this sort of family-typical protection and affection? They do piss off each other a lot, but there's usually no hard feelings behind that, it's just their dynamic. So in conclusion, I'd say they have a great relation going on, ESPECIALLY considering the factor that neither of them really is a people-person.

[txttletale]

speaking of last ask every time i criticise lancer lore as presented in the core book i get a bunch of people telling me to read the wallflower book or the other karrakin book and be like 'well actually This explains--' don't care! they could be masterful works of anti-imperialist literature and my criticisms of the core book would not be affected. releasing more nuanced and interesting takes on things you botched the first time around is always good and welcome but it doesn't negate the original criticism innit

[sichore]

So a while ago, the server was on a Jane Austen kick and we had tons of fun, and I daresay we had our strongest round of writing yet. And because this is Metalocalypse, naturally we added zombies to the mix, incorporating the lore from Seth Grahame-Smith's trio of novels into that of the show and what we'd established across various AUs.

Paint the Sky chapter 3 is coming along... very slowly, but I've still been writing behind the scenes. Here's an offshoot of that Regency zombie drama in a scenario where Magnus isn't a cringe fail Scorpio.

(Magnus tends to be part of the overpowered and older group in these AUs and it's so fucking funny considering his canon and current incarnation ahahhhaha.)

Deth & Diligence: Shadowplay

Feat. Magjam (MagnusxOC) and mentions of Dr. Amomolith Chesterfield and OCs from @thatwritingho, @m3gahet, @the-loveliest-lotus and @mrfelixfischoeder.

As always, Jamila stands out amongst the rest of the gathered dancers like a spot of soot upon a fine dress. It's an unbecoming way to think of herself that Mary would scold her for, but it's hard not to think of, when her stone-faced partner endeavors to look anywhere but at her.

Mercifully, once the lilting notes of the string quartet fade and the final bow is made, he swiftly turns away in search of a more comely lady, and Jamila sinks back until she is as one with the shadows on the wall. Even here, she doesn't fit among the least handsome women in appearance.

Indeed, if the pearls were to fall from her hair, her tulle and fine silk replaced by rough linen, she would be invisible. Only standing out because she would be expected to be among the staff never to be seen. As much as Dr. Chesterfield may dress her up and present her as his most prized oddity, Jamila will never be British, never be highborn. Never be one of these high class vermin more concerned with riches and matchmaking than the hordes of undead ever threatening to overrun their dear England.

In that sense, she should take comfort in the fact that she is not vermin. But the terms in which Jamila defines herself are not so kind, and as she can hear the voices of Mary, Olive, Lucy, and Robin chiding her, she silences all thought instead.

She raises her eyes. Her father is preoccupied with conversing with other esteemed gentlemen, and appears to have run out of younger men to play at propriety with her. It's just as well. Truthfully, Jamila would rather be among the various mercenaries stationed outside the room, around the estate, keeping watch for dreadfuls. But Dr. Chesterfield only allows her to wield a blade when he can make a spectacle of her ‘savage’ origins; she wasn't even allowed her dagger tonight. Tonight, as on so many nights, Jamila plays the part of a lady.

And tired of playing as she is, she slides away from the wall, through the shadows, finding solace where none would dare look, and retreats to a nearby area that gives her a measure of peace.

The gallery, much like everything else about Jamila, is a space meant to advertise all that is her. Her life, her body, her art – all of it is up for sale, for consumption, displayed for the attention of men looking to devise any use they can out of her. She finds she rather hates the work once it is finished, wishing to destroy it rather than have it land in the hands of these white demons.

But while she is painting, for those few precious hours, there is only the brush, the canvas, and her. Images from her mind take form through paint and practiced strokes, bringing to life a world without violence, without lies. Just the peace of solitude.

The gentle clack of Jamila's low heels grow more audible as she moves away from the gathering and towards the gallery. The guests grow more sparse, finding fewer tucked away couples or wilting wallflowers, until she's alone once she reaches the door. Surely, her father won't notice her absence for a brief while.

There is near silence as Jamila closes the door behind her. She sighs, and before she can breathe in relief, her skin prickles in warrior instinct.

The gallery is quiet, but not empty, and she is not alone.

The man standing in the middle of the gallery is a slayer, as evident by the worn leather boots and coat he wears, if one could not tell from his stance. He appears lax, his hand on his hip rather than sword, but the slight lean of his body lets Jamila know that he's aware of her presence, and fears no threat.

She flushes in momentary embarrassment for not immediately being aware of the gallery being occupied. Though, considering the visitor, she should not be too harsh on herself.

He is tall as an oak, his presence drawing one's eye as a towering storm cloud does on the horizon. His prominent profile and rich, wavy hair instantly mark him as not British, and Jamila relaxes minutely. She knows this man. Knows of him, rather. The man recently returned from the Near East with his ill daughter, which is why he has been in the company of those Dr. Chesterfield does business with. Had been in the company of her warden himself, who was determined to ignore Jamila as nothing more than a mere prop. And in a wholly inappropriate – that is, thrilling – display, this man instead lavished Jamila without enough attention and praise to break through her practiced, stone-like demeanor, causing a faint blush to rise to her cheeks.

More than once over the course of the evening, Jamila's gaze has wandered to him. Not as a guest, no, but one among the shadows, a guard like the others on the outskirts of the ball. It was impossible not to notice him, towering above the pale elite, the only one besides herself with sun-kissed skin. Though she is darker than he, in appearance, if not demeanor.

Not one to be daunted, and within the prison she's made to call home no less, Jamila approaches the slayer: Magnus Hammersmith. In a show of defiance to no one besides herself, perhaps, she stops to stand at his side. The distance, or lack thereof, is not respectable, but she does not want to be seen as a lady at the moment. Jamila has sent more than enough of the unmentionable horde back to hell to fill the ball room to present herself as someone who, if not equal, is at the very least unafraid.

Besides, Magnus had already nigh embarrassed her with his honeyed compliments. It was only right she exact a sweet revenge of her own.

Still, it would be too forward to admire him so blatantly at this proximity, though Jamila does steal sidelong glances that reveal little more than the buttons of his coat. Instead, she turns her attention to the painting that has his apt attention.

It's dark. This painting has yet to find a buyer, the nature of it being so dim compared to her usual lush landscapes and blue skies. This one depicts a lake awash with the cloak of night, with even the moon obscured by the ebon veil. The only light to be found are in the stars, faint pinpricks of light, and the reflection in the small, cresting waves of the water.

Perhaps one with a keen eye, like a fellow slayer, could make out the other fine details to be found. The old tree stretched out from one side of the canvas. The lone swan curled and asleep on the bank. The faint sliver of the moon that is there.

Perhaps Magnus sees it. Jamila can only guess, as he has yet to speak or greet her in any way. And when she can take the silence no longer, and the warmth of his proximity – the scent of leather and cedar filling her nose – she breaks it with a small huff.

“I daresay you will find no dreadfuls within this painting,” she says. She casts her eyes askance, and the slight smirk that curls Magnus’ lips makes her hands twitch from where they are clasped before her.

“No,” he agrees. His voice reminds Jamila of the finest tea she's ever tasted; rich, dark, toasty, leaving her tongue just dry enough to ever want for another drink. “I'm sure I would have better luck without.”

“Or you could stay within. The pitiful undead do not lack for company.”

“But these walls do?”

“Perhaps.” Feeling color rise to her cheeks again, Jamila returns her attention to the painting. “Are you looking to purchase? This one has been continuously passed over for being too dark.”

“That's fortunate. My eye is not one for the fine arts like this, but even I can see that this should be admired, deeply. Not locked away by some stuffy aristocrat.”

“So you are not looking to buy.”

“No. Just admire, appreciate, for now.”

“The brighter ones are not to your liking?”

“They lack the depth of this one. And I’ve always been fond of that which is found in the shadows.”

“Such as fear? Horrors?”

“Secrets, comfort. Pleasure, even.”

Jamila ignores her instinct and turns her face towards Magnus. His gaze is fixated on her. She stands on his blind side, that eye glazed over like the moon in a naked sky, but the other is warm and brown and boring through her. Whatever Jamila wants to say next is stifled behind lips pressed tightly together.

Swallowing to ease her dry throat, she faces the painting again.