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rendy-a · 6 months

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Hello darling! Congrats on 500 followers! I love your work (⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠) For the event, how about your favourite character and a theme of your choice?

I think I’ve been getting burnt out trying to write so many stories of the same theme for my event so, I’m happy to say that this is the final story of the event! After this, I’ll dust off my old inbox and see what’s been sitting out there.

For this request, I’ve decided to change things up and give some attention to the staff of NRC! I just love the way the students interacted with Trein in the Glorious Masquerade event. We need some more banter like that, so…here you go!

The lights dimmed as each glowing magical lantern was turned to a lower brightness on the chandelier. The echo of footsteps slowly faded as the departing students left first the reception room and then the hallways beyond. After what felt like months of hard work, it was finally over. The goodwill dance between magical academies was over. Royal Sword students would be heading back to the southern part of Sage Island right now to sleep in their own beds while Fair Maiden students would spend one last night guesting in makeshift dormitories at NRC before leaving in the morning.

“That could have been worse,” Sam chuckled as he sat at a table, “The little imps in my day had a lot more fire in them.” Vargas came to join him, “I’m sure it was my rousing physical education that tempered their energy! Now they are headed to bed to get enough sleep to turn that muscle building effort into results!” The beaming smile Vargas gives causes Sam to smile politely in return before sliding to the far end of the table. “I’m just glad its over,” mutters Trein as he massages his back, “I’m not as young as I used to be, and these things take a lot out of me.” Crewel takes a cigarette out of a case and sets it in his mouth, “Were you ever young to begin with?” Trien thought him a disapproving glare, first at the comment and then at the unlit cigarette. Crewel signs and returns it to the case unlit.

“Now, now,” the overly cheerful voice of Crowley beams, “Let’s not get too overexcited. There is still clean-up to be done!” He claps his hands and gestures to the room. “Why didn’t you have student do this?” Crewel asks in a deadpan voice. “Exactly! This is just the sort of character-building physical labor young people need!” agrees Vargas. “Ah, well,” Crowley begins before trailing off. “It’s Ambrose, isn’t it?” Trein asks knowingly. “Ah! What do you accuse me of! Just because that windbag brags about how much he cares for his students, that I let the children off the hook?” Crowley backpedals, “It is only because I am SO KIND that I thought to give the students time to recover before classes in the morning. YES! Because I care SO MUCH about their education! Ah ha! Ha!” No one quite believes the headmaster’s story, yet they admit it is rather late to keep the young students up.

The silence settles for a moment, then Crewel kicks a broom and utters, “Ah, shit,” under his breath. As if waiting for that exact moment, Sam tips his hat and widens his smile into a beaming customer service grin, “If easy clean-up is what you are searching for, I have several self-sweeping brooms that are IN STOCK NOW!” Trein looks at him with a simple raised eyebrow, “You happen to have several brooms in your possession at this very moment?” Sam nods with a gleaming smile. “How convenient for you,” Trein remarks. Then all the staff look to Crowley as though to say, ‘Well, what are you going to do?’ Crowley sighs but senses his defeat and agrees to the purchase. “Is there ever a time when you aren’t prepared to wring the madol out of a situation?” he laments as he gazes at his upraised hands forlornly. Sam smiles knowingly but does not reply.

He passes a broom to Vargas who waves it away, “You can’t build muscles with shortcuts!” He then picks up a standard broom and sweeps in a furious flurry. A cloud of dust kicks up, causing Crewel to cough and ask in an annoyed voice, “Must you always carry on so?” Vargas gives him a beaming smile, “I see we are both reminiscing on the same thing. Ah, our shared youth!” Crewel again rolls his eyes, but the statement has caught the attention of the others. “Shared youth?” asks Sam in a leading tone, “Did you know each other when you were young?”

Crewel snorts, “Nothing as intimate as that. We simply both attended Night Raven at the same time.” Vargas gives the aggravated professor a hearty pat on the back, “Yes! Crewel was my Senior! I was in my first year when he was a third-year student.” Crowley gives them a curious look, “That wasn’t a development I was expecting.” Trein looks at him in disappointment, “You were headmaster even then. Shouldn’t you know these things?” Crowley starts, surprised at being called out for his shortcomings, “Ah, why yes. Yes, of course I recall. All the fine days you spent together in your dorm and classes. Ah ha ha!” Crewel drawls, “We were in different dorms.” Crowley gazes around nervously and alights on a table of food, “Ah, the food has been left sitting out! What a dangerous hazard to our students’ safety! I must rectify this at once. AT ONCE!” Then he quickly hurries away, avoiding the conversation and answering for his amazingly bad memory.

“You did know each other though,” Trein smiles in an amused way. Sam seems to catch on to the fact that there is some sort of story there and leans in, as though inviting him to share more details. “It was at the campus wide dance, if I recall correctly,” Trein remarks. “Ah yes!” Vargas picks up the narrative, “I hoisted him on my shoulders so everyone could admire the marvelous upper-body strength I had. There was a good deal of cheering for me, as I recall.” Vargas finishes proudly and flashes Sam a toothy smile. Crewel gives him a disdainful look, “They were cheering for me.” Sam gives Trein a look as though to say, ‘Let’s get an impartial opinion in here.’

Trein sighs and says, “As I recall, young Divus was named Prom King and a girl from the visiting academy was to be Prom Queen. However, someone thought she wasn’t worthy of the honor and stole both crowns; declaring himself both Prom King and Queen.” Crewel smiles in a way that is not at all apologetic, “You want to wear the crown, you must put in the work. I’ll not let a mangey cur stand at my side.” Trein finishes in a weary tone, “After stealing her crown and being carted around by other miscreants,” Trein gives Vargas a look, “We had to end the dance early and send several very upset young ladies home by mirror that very night.”

Sam has a good laugh with Vargas and Crewel while Trein continues to look disapproving. “The hearts of young maidens are nothing to be trifled with.” Sam nudges the stiff professor with an elbow, “So the hearts of girls are a specialty of yours, Mr. Romantic?” Crewel barks a harsh laugh, “By calling it ‘girls,’ you’re being a bit too generous, it’s really only the one, eh? Actually, didn’t you mention you took your wife to this dance when you were young?” Trein lets out an offended ‘harumph’ and turns his back to the rowdy young staff members. As he cleans the table, a small smile graces his lips.

“Nice memory, huh?” Vargas asks loudly. Trein looks up and sighs, “Yes, I took my wife to this dance. It was our first date.” He smiles again, as though remembering something special to him. “When the bells chimed midnight, I gave her a flower and promised to take her to the City of Flowers someday.” Vargas gives a hearty laugh, “Ha! Its like hearing about history in person!” Trein gives him an extremely offended look before searching out Crowley, “I’m hardly the oldest person on the staff. Speaking of which, I believe we are done here.”

Crowley sits in a dark corner gazing out a window, avoiding both notice and work. Crewel picks up his pointer and gives it a loud crack across his hand, causing the crow fae to jump at the sudden sound. “Aaahhh! I…I mean, ah! I see you’ve finished. Ah ha ha!” he finishes in a very unconvincing way. The teachers share a look between them. “Well,” Sam beings slowly, “I think that’s all the profit left to reap tonight. Unless you’d like to share some reminiscences with us about your own dancing days. Perhaps you have your own romantic story to share.” Trein scoffs and Crewel chuckles under his breath. Vargas however, doesn’t pick up on the joke and jovially exclaims, “Yes Headmaster, why don’t you share some tale of your own with us.”

Crowley looks startled at the suggestion, which further amuses most of the gathered staff. Sam laughs good-naturedly and pats the clueless coach on the back, “Let’s go Ashton, I’ll explain it to you on the way out.” The staff begin the journey home and, before leaving, Crewel snaps his fingers and extinguishes the lights in the cafeteria. Crowely says nothing, watching them depart and leave him alone in the not-quite ballroom. Tomorrow, perhaps it will return to being just a cafeteria. Tonight though, Crowley sat for the second time in his life alone in a darkened ballroom. The memory of dances past comes to him and he gazes again out the window at the unreachable moon. There were balls held in the dead of night among the dark fae courts when he was a much younger crow and less weary of life. Perhaps, he’d even be willing to share those stories someday with those that should know. For now, he’d keep them quietly in his own head, waiting for dawn with the memory of a life and love long since gone.

#500 follower event #twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #divus crewel #mozus trein #twst sam #dire crowley

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riverofjazzsims · 8 months

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Obsidian Baptiste

Obsidian "Sid" Baptiste

24 yo Local Singer

Aspiration - Musical Genius

Creative, Hot headed, Music Lover, Dance Machine, vegetarian

Likes - color black, jazz music, family oriented, animals - especially cats, boho & polished fashion, small talk & deep thoughts, dancing, music, wellness, spirited sims

Dislikes: ambitionless sims, color red, ranch music, Pink or green Hair, Gossip & Pranks

skills charisma 5, Singing 4, Cooking 4, Handiness 3, writing 4

Sid is the daughter of a Puerto Rican mother and a Haitian father, who also happened to be one of the biggest Gang leaders in the last 20 years. That was until his family was targeted leaving Sid's older sister dead and her face permanently altered after a car bombing. Her father is in WITSEC and she hasn't seen him in since she was 5 years old. Sid and her mom have moved around over the years in an attempt to distance themselves from the life. Her familys past has been kept a secret from the world and hopefully that skeleton will remain deep in her closet. Both Her and her Mom currently are living in San Myshuno in the spice district. Sid is a self taught musician and can play piano and guitar in addition to sing. Sid sings at several of the local clubs in SanMy several times a week and has headlined the last 3 years at the local festivals. Family is big to Sid considering her background and secretly hopes one day her father will be back in their lives. Like her dad she is a creative genius but has a quick temper luckily, well at least for the most part Sid has found a way to channel that energy into her music. But something is missing, Sid wants what her parents had, and so now she is looking to love someone just as much as her music.

** @therichantsim damn my work life, well I did complete but not in time here was my submission for becoming mrs blackburn 2

#becomingmrsblackburn2 #black simblr #therichantsim #damnimtoolate #the sims 4

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thatsadbietch · 7 months

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How the Mighty Fall

When your and Scar's bickering about how to rule the Valley gets tiresome, the Fairy Godmother seems to have an idea, though its not exactly traditional.

My usual warnings: no spoilers this time, and it is a tickle fic! Enjoy <3

“Scar! You may not eat the sunbirds in the plateau, we’ve been over this at least a dozen times!”

“It’s not my fault. What kind of leader lets their people starve? If I were in charge-”

“Not gonna happen! Even if I wanted to give it to you, the other villagers wouldn’t allow it.”

“Oh, nonsense, they would love me as their Ruler,”

“You tried to eat some of them!”

This bickering between Dreamlight Valley’s current ruler and the fallen lion king went on, as it had been more frequently as the stress of leadership and dealing with the Forgotten ran more rampant on your agenda. Scar, seeing the opportunity to try to break you, resulted in these arguments more often than not. The remaining residents were getting both worried and annoyed: sometimes these arguments could be heard all the way from Dazzle Beach.

“That’s it!” Merlin shouted from his home and, using his magic, teleported in front of Scar’s cave, where the two royals were continuing on. The Fairy Godmother must have had the same idea a few seconds prior, as she was already there when he arrived, trying to soothe both parties.

“Now, now, tell me what happened,” she asked calmly. Merely her presence was enough to calm the torrent in your mind, and you took a deep breath.

“I have to keep telling Scar not to eat the sunbirds. Or Remy. Or literally anyone else in the Valley. If he wanted to be a Ruler, he’d have to be smarter than that.”

“Oh it has nothing to do with my intellect, I assure you. It’s in my blood. I’m a natural hunter.”

“What about Simba and Nala? I don’t have to tell them not to eat villagers!”

“If they’re so inclined to deny the nature they were born with, that is their choice.”

“All right, enough! From both of you!” Merlin intervened. You were shocked at first; you’d never really witnessed your friend and mentor unleash his temper. However, you also knew he had a particular sore spot for Scar.

“Merlin,” the Fairy Godmother started, “let’s calm down. Not make matters worse, yes?” Merlin looked at her. You may have been a quick learner with magic, but she and Merlin were born with it, and they understood each other. She seemed to be able to calm him as well, and you were thankful she’d arrived.

“Yes, I agree, my apologies. But what are we to do? This behavior cannot go on.” Merlin spoke in front of you and Scar as if you two were not there.

You suddenly spoke up, “We used to be friends, Scar. Or, at least friendly.” Scar went from scowling at Merlin to looking at you, almost laughing.

“I don’t believe we’ve ever seen eye to eye on Valley matters, Ruler.”

“Maybe not, and I don’t remember everything. But I used to be friends with everyone. I don’t know how I know that, I just do.”

Merlin and the Fairy Godmother looked to each other. “Merlin, I have an idea.”

“Yes, m’lady, let’s hear it.” The Fairy Godmother’s smile grew sweeter, which somehow made you more uneasy.

“It would be best if I just showed you all.” You and Scar did not like the sound of that. But before either of you could object, she began her spell:

This bickering and fighting just won’t do,

Try seeing from another point of view.

Repair these broken, severed ties,

Until then, they remain by your side.

You braced yourself, but only felt a fleeting and gentle pulse of magical energy. Did the spell not work? Scar scoffed.

“I have no time for this, I have other matters to tend to,” the dark lion growled, and began making his way back inside the cave. That is, until you both felt a forceful tug and, like a fishing rod, reeled you and Scar back together.

“What do you WANT?” Scar growled at you.

“Nothing to do with this, believe me. I think this is Fairy Godmother’s spell at work.”

“Yes dear, it is!” she almost cheered, “You two will not be able to be more than two meters apart until you reach an understanding of each other.”

“What if I ate them?” Scar asked.

“WHAT?”

“You can try,” the Fairy Godmother replied, almost as if she dared him, “but my spell won’t allow physical harm to fall on either of you.”

As if he didn’t believe her, Scar went to swipe at you, his paw freezing in place a few inches from your shoulder. He couldn’t even bear his claws.

“Now then, if we’ve moved past the arguing for today, I suggest you go about each other’s day. See what daily life looks like for our dear Y/N, Scar. And you for him, young one. Walking in someone else’s shoes is a good first step to understanding them.”

“Oh, I see,” you said, and turned to Scar. “We’ll be stuck together until we make amends.” Scar rolled his eyes dramatically and, dripping in sarcasm, he spoke.

“Perfect.”

************************************************************************

You decided not to let this hinder you, so until you could come up with a way that satisfied Fairy Godmother’s spell, you tended to the village as usual. Merlin and Fairy Godmother had already taken the Forgetting off your shoulders for the time being: you seemed to be at a standstill of the magic variety that they offered to figure out while you were with Scar.

The first few days went about as well as you would have expected: the villagers were confused, some scared to approach with Scar tailing you. You both bickered about sleeping quarters until you both reached an agreement to trade off houses every other night. You hoped this compromise, and a compromise to let Scar nap for an hour each afternoon in the plateau, were steps toward a resolution. But, he was still pretty sour about the whole ordeal.

“Can’t you reverse this nonsense? Surely if you created the Valley, you can undo this treacherous enchantment.” Scar complained, lying lazily at the ground a few feet away while you tended the village vegetable garden.

“Believe me, I’ve thought about it,” you admitted, “but to reverse a spell that a powerful person like the Fairy Godmother cast, it would take more time than it’s worth. We may as well do as it dictates. Trust me, I’m as happy about it as you are.” He huffed in response, and after a few beats of silence you were approached by Moana and Remy, a pairing you hadn’t at first thought would create such a strong friendship.

“Hey Y/N! We wanted to thank you again for helping me out with getting all those coconuts for me and Remy the other day. The cakes we were able to make were amazing!” You remembered this favor fondly, as Moana and Remy have started to bond over cooking with her home ingredients in all kinds of different ways. When Remy told her about making coconut cakes and frosting, but not being able to pick coconuts himself, she nearly sprinted to you with her boundless energy in excitement.

“If Remy’s cooking, you don’t have to ask me twice! It's no problem,” you replied, smiling up at them from your kneeling position. The two know also that, mostly at night when all the favors are done and most are asleep, you’re awake with Merlin and Fairy Godmother, talking all things Forgotten, Night Thorns, and the darker magic that’s tried to buckle Dreamlight Valley.

“We saw you looked busy and thought we would come help, if you’d like.” Remy asked, planting seeds being well within his range of capabilities. The worried glance in Scar’s direction didn’t go unnoticed.

“You guys don’t have to, no need to worry-” you stopped short when you realized they mostly asked as a courtesy, but planned on helping you regardless as they got to work alongside you. Gardening was not your favorite task by a longshot, and your smile broadened.

“You didn’t come planning to take “no” for an answer, did you?”

“When was the last time you turned someone away that needed your help?” Moana asked, poking at your ribs to enunciate her point. A few giggles came out with your response.

“Ohohokay, I gehet it.”

After the task was finished and the sun began to set, you said your goodbyes and headed toward the Peaceful Meadow, more specifically where the Pillar of Friendship stood. Scar, reluctantly following, looked at you curiously as you sat on the ground in front of it. He laid again on the ground and waited for you to say something, but you didn’t.

“What are you doing, exactly?” he asked, after enough silence had passed that he was genuinely confused.

“This is the first pillar I was able to restore when I came back to the Valley. So I made it into a peaceful place. I’m sure you remember I’d asked all the residents to keep this area of the meadow specifically quiet, clean, and comfortable, in case someone just needs a place to breathe for a minute.” You looked to Scar, and were surprised that you still had his attention. “I think we need to breathe for a minute. Or, at least I do. I think it’s going to take more than daily tasks and afternoon naps to understand each other.”

Again, he surprised you by not offering a sarcastic retort or a mild insult. Instead, he posed a question.

“Why do you go among your followers the way you do?” You studied his face but saw he wasn’t insulting you: he truthfully didn’t know.

“What do you mean?”

“You do dirty work, the constant favors, the nagging. You even let them touch you. Is this not meant for someone below a ruler?”

“That depends. I’m sure there are rulers who reign much differently than I do. The way you would, it sounds like, would be much different from my approach. But I don’t see you all as “followers” or “beneath me”.”

“Is that not the reality?”

“As far as my responsibilities go, there are certain things only I can do. But that doesn’t make me or what’s important to me any more significant than someone else or what’s important to them. I like to think that this makes the difference between a leader and a tyrant.” Scar scoffed.

“You think of me as a tyrant?” To his surprise, you threw your head back and laughed.

“I absolutely consider you a tyrant!”

“What’s funny about that?” he asked, clearly not amused, “Your subjects need to know their place, and yours.”

“You don’t have to be demanding or instill fear to earn respect.”

“...What other way is there that does not show weakness?” You met him at eye level, feeling as though the next thing you say could make or break the conversation. This was, after all, the deepest conversation you two have had since being magically bound. Maybe ever.

“There is strength in showing vulnerability. We all have weak points, Scar, whether we care to acknowledge them or not.” He was silent, contemplating this for a moment.

“Before Simba’s time, I was well-respected in the Pride Lands.” You fixed your gaze on the Pillar, freezing and listening, as if sudden movement would make him stop speaking.

“I was appointed leader of the Lion Guard under my insufferable brother. We were tasked with keeping the Pride Lands safe and the Circle of Life in balance. Once on patrol, I was approached by a lion I’d never seen before, stating I was the rightful ruler of the Pride Lands. I had always agreed with that sentiment and… it became the beginning of my undoing.” You chanced a look in his direction and he also was not looking directly at you; he was also looking at the Pillar as he spoke.

“I trusted this lion’s word only because he’d said what I wanted to hear. Next thing I know I have a venomous cobra attacking my eye, and fortunately I find the strength to fend them off and keep them from ever coming near the Pride Lands. I just wanted some recognition for it, and do you think Mufasa,” he uttered the name in disgust, “gave me that satisfaction?”

“He could have been a better brother to you, then.”

“To put it lightly, yes.” A few moments of tense silence passed before you responded.

“Scar… I’m so sorry. I wish I’d known.” you replied, to which he sighed.

“You were but a cub the last time you ruled. I wouldn’t have expected you to understand.”

“Merlin may have. And the other Villagers. And they still can, but you have to allow them.” He scoffed.

“I’m serious, Scar. You don’t have to tell them everything. You don’t have to tell them anything, but you at least can’t threaten to eat them all the time.”

“...I’ll give it some thought, oh gracious leader,” he retorted, though you detected no malice.

“I’ll take it.” you responded and, not thinking about it, pet Scar’s mane. Simba and Nala don’t mind when you do this, but realizing your mistake you quickly retracted your hand.

“I didn’t mean-”

“How dare you pet me like a common housecat!” he said, more confused than angry.

“You’re right, I wasn’t thinking-”

“How would you enjoy it if I just touched you as I pleased?”

“I just said you were RIHIHIGHT, Scar!” you cackled, Scar haphazardly poking and pawing at your side. He looked at you curiously, then maliciously.

“I suppose you actually quite enjoy it.”

“That’s nohot what I- OOF!” For someone as lazy as Merlin claims, Scar was able to stand and pounce in one quick and fluid motion, effectively pinning you on your back.

“I suppose if I can’t use my claws, this will have to do,” he reasoned, sounding annoyed. However, the gleam in his eye and smug smirk told another story.

“Wahahit Scar, noohohoho!” You pleaded, and you weren’t surprised when Scar completely disregarded your cries. Being a fully grown lion, his two paws were nearly the size of your torso, meaning he could knead into all parts of your ribs at once with relative ease.

“Scaahahaharr! Dohohon’t!” You spat in the midst of wild cackles. In response, he kneaded faster and with more vigor, effectively rendering you helpless in your own belly laughter.

“Oh, dear, Ruler, we spoke of weak points, but I hadn’t imagined yours being so easily exploited,” Scar taunted, kneading down your sides and relenting just above your hips. Residual giggles spilled out as you spoke.

“Scaahahar, wahahait!”

“For what, your majesty? I’ve seen the others torment you in such a way, this is your fault for allowing such foolish behavior,” He replied, dragging a claw across your belly from one hip bone to another. He hadn’t expected such a squeal to come from you, and smiled rather evilly, lazily tracing his single claw randomly across your belly and up your sides, occasionally using his other paw to skitter his claws lightly on your hip bones, keeping you guessing.

“I suppose I can draw my claws, so long as I don’t hurt you. How convenient. For me.” You doubted Fairy Godmother anticipated this when she bound you and Scar together.

“Ohohohoho, greheheat! AH HAHAHAHA, SCAHAHAR!” you shrieked, feeling light traces scurrying rapidly over the thin skin protecting your hip bones. It seemed with each swipe your body wanted to kick your legs out, but being trapped under Scar’s body, the ticklish sensations had no other outlet than the grip you reflexively had on Scar’s wrists. He tutted at you, mocking sympathy for your situation.

“You poor thing, like a field mouse captured by a bobcat,” he teased, “Exactly how much of this can you endure?” Coupled with the constant torment of your hip bones, the question had amplified your giggles and deepened the blush across your features. You weren’t sure how much more of this you could take, but you had a feeling Scar would test that boundary. He wasn’t exactly known for mercy. However, he relented, but kept his paws threateningly on your hips.

“Why do you allow your followers to torment you in such a way? Is this not demeaning?” You caught your breath and wiped the mirthful tears from your face. Your breath then hitched upon feeling Scar’s paws tense, threatening the sensitive area.

“I expect an answer this time.”

“You’re *huff* getting one *huff*,” you finally said, and Scar actually waited a beat. He also wasn’t usually known for his patience.

“Who you call my followers, I call my friends,” you started, “I let them for a lot of reasons. Because I trust them, and they trust me. And because that’s how some of them play or show affection. Or that’s how they express when they want to be ornery,” you glared up at him at this, and he scoffed, but his eyes appeared thoughtful. “When you create a bond with someone, it’s quite the opposite of demeaning.”

“I would not allow such behavior from my subjects.”

“I know, and that’s okay,” you stopped, debating internally about what you say next. It could lead to your utter demise, but knowing you weren’t going anywhere yet anyway, you decided to rattle the cage. “Some just simply can’t take what they dish out.” Scar’s eyes widened at your impish grin.

“What did you say?” he growled, his glare sending a chill down your spine and anticipation in your belly.

“Although that could be pretty tyrannical as well, doling out punishments you couldn’t handle yourself.”

“I’ll show you tyrannical, dearest Ruler,” Scar bellowed, willing his paws to dig with renewed vigor into your hip bones. The squeal you elicited was probably not considered “quiet” as you like to keep it around this Pillar, but as there was not much you could do about it, you laughed madly, futilely bucking and squirming underneath Scar’s weight.

“Having regrets about challenging me yet?” Scar tormented, allowing himself a sinister smirk, featuring his fangs, at your expense.

“Noohohohohone!” You tried to remove the nearing desperation in your voice, not wanting to give Scar that satisfaction.

“Oh reeeaaally?” he asked, dragging out the question as if to emphasize how much he didn’t believe you. “Let’s try this, then.”

You hadn’t the clarity to even imagine what he could be up to, but cackled and wriggled wildly as he trailed upward, letting one paw scurry with his claws haphazardly up your side while the other kneaded up until he reached your ribs. He snickered at you, as if he could tell your body didn’t know where to go or what to do… that is, until he kneaded further up, toward your underarm, to which your body clamped both of its arms tightly to your sides.

“Oh dear, what could this be?” he relented, making sure you could hear him and how curious he was about your sudden defense.

“Scahahar, plehehease,” you wheezed through residual giggles. “I cahahan’t-”

“Now, now, that’s not the attitude to have. Supposedly you can do anything you set your mind to in this Valley, yes?”

“You know this is different!”

“How about a game then? I know you like those,” he started, and freed you from under him.

“A game of cat and mouse. I’ll let you go and count to ten, then if you can keep away for ten minutes, you win.” You were surprised at this, and wondered what the catch was, but then he started.

“One, two, three…” you scrambled up and tried to bolt it, but were instantly pounced on, landing on your chest.

“SCAR!”

“...Seven, eight, nine, ten. Oh look, I’ve caught you!”

“You cheated! I should have figured.”

“You wound me, Y/N,” he started, “I laid the rules quite clearly for you. I counted to ten and you didn’t keep away. I said nothing about being unable to count and hunt. Now, where were we…” Being on your belly, you were even more powerless under Scar’s weight, and he wasted no time wriggling his claws in the hollows of your underarms. You hadn’t stood a chance; even though you expected it, you still shrieked in surprise before devolving into hearty belly laughter. You reflexively clawed at the ground in front of you, which made Scar snicker.

“You still think you can escape me? How pitiful,” he teased, using his claws to skitter under your arms as opposed to the vicious kneading.

“NAHAHAH, SCAHAHAR!” you squealed, and it was about the last noise you made before your laughter fell silent.

“Oh, I suppose you’ve had enough. This time, I’ll grant you mercy.” This time he kept his word, removing his weight from you to lay where he originally was in front of the Pillar of Friendship. Was the light that bright earlier? He couldn’t remember.

You allowed your giggling to cease and your breath to be caught before returning to where you also were sitting before you were viciously “mauled” by a usually grouchy lion. This same lion though looked rather proud of himself… and strangely at ease.

“This is supposed to be a peaceful place,” you scolded, half-heartedly.

“I’m aware. It was you disturbing the peace with your incessant giggling and carrying on.” Your banter continued and you spent a good portion of the evening in this spot before turning in for the night, tonight being a night in Scar’s cave as part of your rotation. Funnily enough though, when you woke the next day, you stepped outside and realized you were too far from Scar for the spell to still be in place.

#tickle #tickle fic #tickle community #fluff #disney #disney dreamlight valley #ddv #ler!scar #lee!reader #the lion king #the lion guard #ticklish!reader

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2nd2ndalto · 6 months

Text

You Can Lose Sight of It All

Nico turns his face into Will's shoulder. "I don't want you to come," he wants to say. But even as the words form in his mouth, he realizes they're not true.

“I want you to come. And I hate that I want you to come,” he whispers.

___

Nico has a bit of a crisis about Will coming along to Tartarus, pre-TSATS. Re-posting here because I don't think I shared to Tumblr when I wrote this.

____

Will walks Nico back to his cabin that night the same as always, leaning in to kiss him at the foot of the stairs.

“Did you want me to… I can stay, if you want?” Will asks shyly.

They've been doing this more often than not lately, the two of them curled together in Nico’s bed, slowly falling into sleep together, waking hand in hand, or with Nico’s head pillowed on Will’s chest. Warm. Safe. And it’s good. It’s the best Nico can ever remember sleeping, but…

“Um. Maybe not tonight. I’m really tired,” Nico says, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible, not wanting the other boy to feel rejected. He's painfully aware that he’s given a similar excuse several times this week.

He’s never been quite so close to someone else or someone else’s feelings before, never had to weigh his actions so carefully, worry about their impact. But that’s good, too. He feels close, connected. Cared for.

Will smiles. “Okay.”

Will’s just as careful, Nico knows, trying not to make Nico feel bad for needing a little space now and then. Trying not to push too hard. Will squeezes Nico’s hand. He leans back in to press his lips to Nico’s forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Nico watches the other boy until he arrives at the Apollo cabin. Will turns and waves before closing the door behind him.

Nico enters his own cabin, toeing off his shoes and dropping to his bed immediately. He is tired. But in the sudden absence of Will’s sunny energy, the other feelings seep in too, washing over him like a wave now that he’s alone. He feels guilty. Heavy. Will’s words to Apollo keep coming back, even louder in this quiet space.

We’ll go together.

And it felt good hearing them. He loves that Will wants to be with him, marvels at the way Will automatically assumes each of Nico’s battles belongs to the two of them now. He craves Will’s company and his energy and his warmth. But how can he, in good conscience, let Will come with him? Or more importantly, how is he going to convince him not to?

Nico gazes into the darkness of his cabin. He thinks of Will, strong and sunny and whole. Who could blame Nico for wanting him to stay that way?

He thinks of himself: sharp edges, broken, cobbled together. He feels more whole now than he has in years, but it seems precarious, especially lately. As if he could crumble to pieces at any moment, maybe even worse than before, now that he’s begun to let his guard down.

It’s been three nights now since Will’s slept over. And Nico doesn’t want the distance, doesn’t want to wake up alone and uncuddled… he doesn’t really want those things ever again, if he’s being completely honest. But it feels more and more dangerous lately, allowing himself Will’s comfort. Will’s become his anchor, his rock. But shouldn’t he be able to manage on his own?

The memories of his mother, Bianca... Jason. Everyone he’s lost, everything he might have done to keep from losing them, every way it might be his fault… it’s all come back with a vengeance the last few weeks, torturing him in dreams and stubbornly lingering throughout the day, dragging him down, sapping his strength. And more recently the dreams are of Will, too. Will, pale and lifeless. Will, ripped away from him, lost in the void.

Nico’s been keeping these nightmares to himself, hoping the memories will fade into the background again, but it's been making him short-tempered and irritable. Fragile. As much as he’s been trying, he thinks he's probably not doing a great job of hiding it.

Twenty minutes later Nico’s still exhausted, but now he’s twitchy and antsy and still so heavy. He pulls his shoes back on, carefully checking for onlookers as he opens his door and walks out into the cool night.

___

The walking keeps the voices away, but hours later, Nico’s beyond exhausted, not to mention cold and mosquito-bitten. He drags himself back to his cabin just as a faint light touches the horizon, hoping that at least in his weariness he’ll be able to keep his sleep to himself.

It works for a while. Will and Kayla arrive to wake him only a few hours later. Nico pretends not to notice their matching looks of concern when he arrives at his cabin door, likely looking more tired than he did when he went to bed last night. He manages to wave them off for the time being, telling them he needs to shower and he’ll meet them at breakfast.

And now, in the daylight, he allows himself to think - maybe it will be okay. Maybe they can do this. He’s been through Tartarus before, after all. He was younger then, and completely unprepared. He’s stronger now, smarter. Will is too. Why couldn’t they do this together? After all, Percy and Annabeth managed it.

But the spark of hope dims too soon. There’s Will across the dining pavilion, looking so bright and alive, the sun catching the gold in his hair, and Nico’s back to square one.

He can’t allow Will to do this. There’s just no way. He’s gotten too comfortable over the last year, allowing others in - especially Will, but so many others at camp too. He suddenly realizes it’s a trap. He feels a painful twist of nausea.

“Hey sunshine,” Will grins, bumping their shoulders together as Nico sits down. Will can’t help the way his gaze darts to Nico’s plate, the way his face falls, just a little. Will quickly pretends he didn’t look, and Nico pretends not to notice.

Normally Nico doesn't mind the gentle chiding to eat more, to take better care of himself. It's helped, honestly. He's managed to get his weight up to a number that Will deems acceptable (he'd informed Nico, with a brilliant, fond smile). Nico has more energy. He finds, to his surprise, that he can recover more quickly when he's tired or injured.

But he's also been a wreck lately, his stomach in knots, and he's snapped at Will twice this week in response to Will teasingly adding more food to his plate. The last year has brought Nico so much further towards being happier, healthier, more settled. Now he feels as if it's slipping away to nothing.

Will drops a reassuring arm around Nico’s shoulders, leaning in for a quick kiss. Nico’s stomach lurches, pleasantly this time. Always, even after months of such kisses and touches. Will tastes like maple syrup and sunshine and he’s so warm where they’re pressed together. Surely they don’t have to talk about Tartarus right now, anyway.

They don’t. There’s a game of capture the flag happening later, and the Apollo kids are deep in discussion about tactics. Nico lets himself be lulled by the familiar voices discussing familiar, smaller problems. He doesn’t contribute much, instead making an attempt to eat some of his meal - as much as Will’s pretending not to pay attention, Nico thinks he might be one of the least stealthy people Nico’s ever met. He'd tease Will about it if he had the energy. Nico leans into the other boy and lets Will’s warmth wash over him. Will pulls him in tighter.

Peace, at least for a moment. ___

Nico’s been perched in the branches of a sturdy oak with Harley for the better part of an hour, and it’s starting to wear on him. They’re supposed to be spying on the other team - quietly - but this kid cannot seem to shut up. Normally Nico can find it in himself to be patient with the younger boy, but today the constant chatter is grating on Nico’s nerves, and that makes him feel like shit too. He just can’t seem to get a handle on his mood.

“Shh,” Nico says suddenly, grabbing Harley’s arm.

There’s a scrambling in the underbrush below and sure enough, several of the other campers are trying to breach their defenses. It’s exactly what Nico’s been waiting for, and he closes his eyes, concentrating on extending his mind into the earth below them, running down the roots of the tree they’re sitting in, deeper, deeper.

It works. Half a dozen skeleton warriors emerge from the ground just as the Demeter and Athena campers emerge from the trees.

It’s over in an instant, and soon Nico and Harley are dropping back to the ground and trading high-fives with the Apollo campers. And for a moment Nico spirits lift and he appreciates how nice it is to be doing something normal. No voices, no visions, just dumb camp stuff. But then -

“Hey, where’s Will?” Austin asks. He turns to Nico. “I thought he was with you.”

It’s nothing, Nico knows it’s probably nothing, but it’s like a stone drops into the pit of his stomach.

“No,” he shakes his head. “He wasn’t with us.”

He can already feel his pulse pounding in his throat.

Will. Your fault.

No.

Get it together, di Angelo.

Nico presses the feeling down, trying to keep his voice steady. “He was with Jake. Last I saw them, they were heading east towards the oak grove.”

No one panics, but the mood shifts tangibly to less celebratory and more urgent as the group makes their way through the forest. Nico has to force himself not to sprint.

“Jake! Will!” Kayla yells, over and over as they make their way through the trees. Her volume sometimes grates on Nico, but he’s grateful for it in this moment, and he follows close behind her, heart in his throat.

“Over here!” a voice calls in response, finally, and the group turns in unison. Sure enough, there’s a flash of bright orange in amongst the greens and browns of the forest, just barely visible in the faded colours of twilight.

Austin gets there first, and Nico hears him curse. His blood runs cold. He and the rest of the group come upon the clearing a second later.

“Shit,” Nico breathes.

“Harpies,” Jake says, sounding out of breath. “I’m fine - I think Will is too. But he hit his head.”

Jake’s got a scrape across his face and a couple of deeper ones on his arm, blood dripping down his wrist. And then there’s Will on the ground, unconscious and looking deathly pale. Nico’s stomach twists. There’s blood, too. Nico can’t bear to look closely enough to see where it’s coming from. His chest feels too tight.

Coward.

And Nico should do something, right? But he’s frozen, useless. The best he can do is try to swallow down the bile rising in his throat and move out of the way so the other Apollo campers can crowd closer to help.

Nico finds himself standing next to Jake, who’s being expertly bandaged by Austin while Kayla assesses Will’s condition.

“He’s okay, Nico,” Jake murmurs, maybe taking in Nico’s expression. “The cuts aren’t that deep. But when we were running back to base he tripped over some roots. That’s when he knocked himself out.”

Nico nods mutely, watching. Sure enough, it’s only a moment before Will’s eyes flutter open. He tries to sit up, but Kayla presses him back down.

“Just hold still until I get you bandaged up, you klutz,” she mutters.

Nico should go to him. Everyone will expect him to go, right? Will will expect him to go. But he just can't breathe, and instead he finds himself taking a shaky step backwards, then another, finally turning and running into the woods, into the shadows.

___

Will jogs up the steps of the Hades cabin feeling anxious. He tries to shake it off. Sure, Nico's been stressed out lately, but they're still fine, right? It's going to be fine. Hearing random voices would put anyone on edge. Will tries, yet again, to convince himself that it doesn’t mean anything, that Nico disappeared after capture the flag last night. That it’s fine that he didn’t stop by the infirmary while Will was recovering. That it's not a big deal that Nico missed breakfast this morning.

He knocks on Nico’s door, trying for a positive, upbeat demeanor.

The door opens, and Nico returns his gaze for barely a second. Will’s heart sinks.

Nico doesn’t say a word, merely leaving the door open and crossing the room to collapse onto his bed. Will can't see his boyfriend's face now, but from the brief glimpse he had in the dim light of the cabin, Nico looked awful. Tired and drawn. Nico’s worked so hard - with Will’s insistence and encouragement - to get his weight up over the last year, and Will's terrified the other boy's losing every hard-earned pound of it now. But that seems to be just one more thing he’s not allowed to mention.

"Um. Can I come in?" Will hovers uncertainly in the doorway, finally entering and closing the door behind him when Nico doesn't respond. It's really dark in here with the door closed and all the blinds drawn, especially as Will’s eyes try to adjust from the bright light outside.

“You, um." Will clears his throat. "No one knew where you were last night. After capture the flag,” he says into the quiet of the cabin. “Kayla said you were there when everyone found Jake and me, but…" he trails off, uncertain.

Will doesn’t say that he spent all evening compulsively glancing up every time he heard anyone come near his room in the infirmary. That he walked up to the door of the Hades cabin before returning to his own cabin last night, but that he was too scared to knock.

There’s a long pause. “Yeah. I was just… walking,” Nico says.

"Oh." Will crosses to the bed, hesitantly sitting down. “So… what are you up to?”

“Reading,” Nico says flatly, though that’s clearly not the case.

Will’s never felt so unwelcome here before, and it’s making his stomach ache. He reaches out for Nico’s hand, squeezes it. Nico lets him, but gives him only the smallest squeeze in response.

Will swallows. He’s not going to participate in this, he decides suddenly. He’s not going to let Nico shut him out, and he’s not going to tiptoe around this. He squeezes Nico’s hand again.

“So, obviously you’re not okay,” Will tells the other boy. His voice sounds weird, too loud, breaking the silence of the cabin. He clears his throat.

“Nico.” Will shifts so he can see Nico’s face better, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. “You’re clamming up,” he says firmly. “I thought we weren’t doing that anymore.”

He realizes, even as the words leave his mouth, that this is the wrong thing to say - or at least the wrong way to say it. But it’s too late. Nico turns towards him, his gaze intense and incredulous in a way that Will barely recognizes.

“Really? We aren’t doing that anymore?”

Will shakes his head, “I’m sorry, that came out wrong -”

Nico sits up, snatching his hand away. “No. I don’t think it did.”

“Nico -”

“No. Stop it, Will.” Nico’s voice is tight with anger. “I know exactly what you meant. We don’t clam up anymore. We clean our plates at every meal. We sleep eight hours a night.”

“No, Nico, please, I -”

“I’ve had enough, Solace. Maybe this is just who I am. Maybe it’s you who needs to finally realize that you don’t want that.”

Nico’s on his feet now, and Will thinks he probably should be too, but he feels paralyzed.

“What? No! Nico, you know that’s not true!” Will reaches out a hand, but Nico takes a step back. It’s like a punch to the gut.

Will can see the other boy is fighting tears, and all he wants to do is to hold him, make this all better, but -

“You and Mr. D. keep trying to tell me that I don’t know what’s real,” Nico croaks. “Maybe that’s not my problem after all. Maybe it’s yours.” Nico turns, reaching for his sword and then bending to pull on his shoes.

“Where - where are you going?” Will finally manages to get to his feet, unthinkingly reaching out to the other boy again before dropping his hand.

“I don’t know.”

“Nico. Please.” It surprises Will, how broken his own voice sounds, and Nico must notice too, because he turns and his face softens, marginally.

“I just need some time, okay? I’m - I think I’m gonna go see Hazel.”

And then he’s gone, enveloped into the shadows of his cabin. It’s been months since they’ve parted without a kiss or an embrace, and Will can feel the cold sinking into his heart as he sinks to the cabin floor. ___

Once he’s shadow-travelled to the Berkeley Hills, Nico can’t quite force himself to go any further. He knows in his heart that he’s screwed up, again, and surely Hazel will tell him the same. After a restless night and several hours the next morning spent wandering and wallowing in guilt and regret, it’s finally hunger, frustratingly, that compels Nico to journey further.

It’s still early, and when he knocks on the door of Hazel’s room in the barracks, she answers immediately.

“Nico! What on earth are you doing here?” Hazel wraps him in a hug and then steps back, her brow furrowed.

“I - I’m not sure,” Nico says, suddenly feeling even more lost. Now that he’s arrived, he realizes he doesn’t know why he came. Except that he told Will this was where he’d be, and that, at least, means something.

Hazel frowns, inspecting Nico’s face a little too closely. He looks away, feeling exposed.

“Come in,” she says, more softly.

Nico’s not sure who designed Hazel's living quarters, but it certainly wasn’t whomever was given free rein with the Hades cabin. The space is small - it’s just Hazel, after all - but the walls are light and the space is sparsely decorated with bright jewel-tones. Hazel’s already made her bed and tidied, and it makes Nico feel even more disheveled. He’s sweaty, tired and wearing the same clothes he’s been in for several days.

Hazel closes the door and turns to her brother. “So, it’s wonderful to see you, of course. But… what’s going on?”

Nico swallows, staring down at the wood-plank flooring. “Um. I told Will I was coming to see you, but… I think I’m leaving camp for good.”

It’s the idea he’s been turning over in his mind ever since the evening of capture the flag, and it’s pressing against his skull, swelling until there aren’t any other options that make sense.

To her credit, Hazel doesn’t shout or scold. She just sighs. “You better sit down.”

Nico does, collapsing onto Hazel’s desk chair and dropping his head into his hands.

“You look kind of awful,” Hazel says after a long moment.

“Yeah,” Nico says. “I haven’t been sleeping. Or eating, really. The - the voices I’ve been hearing… they haven’t gotten any better. They’re louder, if anything.”

“Oh, Nico,” Hazel says softly, and great, that’s just what he needs. The chronic lack of sleep combined with the stress of the last few weeks has tears rolling down his cheeks before Nico has any chance of fighting against it. Hazel’s there in a moment, though, bending over him awkwardly to embrace him, her hair ticking his face.

“Sorry,” Nico whispers, trying to catch his breath. “I swear I didn’t come here to cry all over you.”

Hazel laughs. “It’s okay, big brother. That’s what I’m here for. Now tell me everything.”

So he does. It helps, somehow, that Hazel’s a bit more removed from everything else that’s been going on. Everyone back at camp, worrying about him. Especially Will. He tells Hazel how he feels as if he’s losing himself again. He tells her about capture the flag, how Will’s injury sent each and every alarm in him blaring. He tells her about the nightmares. The voices.

“You think the voices are real, then,” Hazel says. She’s sunk to the floor now, seated cross-legged at Nico’s feet.

Nico swallows. “I - yes. I know they are. And there’s the prophecy, Hazel.” He repeats the lines again. It should get easier with each retelling, but it aches every time.

“Something of equal value,” Hazel muses, staring into the middle distance.

Nico nods tightly. “I think… I think that’s what’s worrying me most.”

“You think it’s Will.”

He shrugs, tears pricking at his eyes again. “How can I not? Hazel, I’m so scared,” his voice comes out in a whisper, throat tight as he finally allows himself to say the word out loud. “He says he’s coming with me, like it’s not even up for discussion. How am I supposed to live with myself if I let Will come, and he - he…” Unable to voice the rest of the thought, Nico buries his head in his hands again.

Hazel’s quiet for a long moment. “You know you can’t ever take these prophecies at face value,” she says finally.

“Yeah, of course I know that," Nico mumbles. "But what else am I supposed to do? I just… I can’t let Will come. It’s not safe.”

She shrugs. “Probably not. Is it safe for you, though?”

Nico gazes at the purple curtains, fluttering gently in the breeze from the open window. The air smells like life, and light.

“I guess it doesn’t matter. I need to go.”

“I think what you need to do is talk to Will,” Hazel says after a long moment.

Nico sighs. “I don’t even know if he'll want to talk to me. He - he caught me at a bad moment. Yesterday. Not that it's his fault, but... I - I was so worried. And so tired. And I was just a complete dick. I should have just been straight with him, but instead I lashed out about really stupid things, and then I left.” He groans. “I’m so bad at this, Hazel."

It’s weighing on him more and more the longer he’s away. He hates that he left things the way he did, hates knowing that Will’s hurting, worrying. Because of him.

"You're not as bad as you think you are, Nico."

Nico huffs out a laugh.

“Will cares a lot about you. I've seen the way he looks at you, Nico. I know it's hard, but don't shut him out now.”

Nico nods. His throat feels tight.

"If the situation was reversed," Hazel says gently, "how would you react to Will telling you he was going on a quest like this by himself?"

Nico frowns. "Well, obviously I - I wouldn't let him. That wouldn't be right. I'd do anything I could to help."

"Mmm,” Hazel agrees. “You'd probably find a way to go with him even if he insisted you stay behind."

Nico frowns. "I know what you're doing, okay? And I didn't come all this way for you to side with Will," he says, trying to summon a little indignation.

Hazel reaches for his hand. "Sorry," she laughs. "But just think about it, okay?"

Nico sighs, closing his eyes. Hazel’s hand is warm in his. He can already feel his mind beginning to settle towards sleep. He’s just so tired. He opens his eyes, leans back, blinking.

"Do you really want to leave camp?" Hazel asks.

Nico shakes his head. “No, of course I don’t. I just - I don’t know. It seemed to make the most sense.”

“Okay. Well, I need you to know that it doesn’t.” Hazel watches him carefully and Nico nods.

“You can’t make any big decisions in this state anyway, okay? You’re going to come with me and have something to eat, and then I’m putting you to bed,” Hazel says firmly, and Nico is reminded so violently of Will that his heart aches. Gods, he misses the other boy so much already. ___

Nico’s still not sure what to do next, but he and Hazel agree that Camp Jupiter will make a fine refuge for the day.

It’s nice, actually. He eats breakfast with Hazel and then she tucks him into her bed. Nico naps the morning away, mostly peacefully, his dreams muted and less troubled than they have been. He trains with Hazel and Frank in the afternoon and stays for dinner.

And then, because he’s an idiot and a coward, he lingers until after nightfall, trying to tell himself it’ll just be easier if he doesn't have to shadow-travel in the daytime.

Nico arrives back at Camp Half-Blood once it’s well and truly dark, and he hesitates at the border of the woods, irresolute. Should he head straight back to his cabin? Find Will? His stomach is still in knots, but at least now he’s moving forward. Whatever that might mean.

In the end, the decision is made for him.

“Nico.” Will’s voice is hard and determined, and it startles Nico a little, the sight of the other boy striding towards him. At the ferocity in Will’s gaze, he almost takes a step back.

Will stops a foot away, suddenly looking less sure of himself, and Nico feels his heart constrict. He suddenly realizes he can’t remember the last time they greeted each other without some show of affection. It’s crushing to see Will uncertain whether it’s allowed.

Nico tries to swallow down his nerves. “Hi,” he says softly. “Um. Can I…” Hesitantly, he reaches out his arms, and Will’s there the next second, crushing Nico to his chest.

“I didn’t know if you were coming back,” Will whispers, and Nico can hear the tears in his voice.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles into Will’s shirt. “I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot and I love you so much and I don't want to lose you -” his own voice breaks and Will squeezes him a bit tighter, turning his head to press his face into Nico’s hair. "I love you too," he whispers.

“I’m sorry,” Nico mutters again when they finally part, his head down.

“It’s okay,” Will says. "I think we should talk, though."

Nico nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

They gaze at each other for a long moment. “Um. My cabin?” Nico asks hesitantly.

They cross the green together. Nico aches to take the other boy’s hand, but something holds him back. Things aren’t quite right with them, and it’s his fault. It’s his fault he can’t sleep, his fault he can’t eat. And now this.

They’re silent as they enter the cabin. Nico crosses to his bed, turning on the lamp and sinking down gratefully. The past two days feel as if they've lasted several months. Will takes a seat on the bed across the room. The space between them is like an endless gulf, and Nico feels himself automatically leaning forward, as if that will bridge the gap.

“I need to apologize,” Will says, twisting his hands in his lap.

Nico glances up, surprised. “What? Why?”

“Before you left - I pushed you to talk to me when you didn’t want to. I should have given you space. That was... I wasn't respecting your boundaries, and -”

“Will, no.” Nico’s across the room before he’s even registered that he’s moving, coming to a stop in front of Will to wrap his arms around the other boy’s shoulders.

“It's my fault. This is all my fault. I was an asshole.” Nico mumbles into Will's hair. “I’m just so scared Will,” he says, his voice breaking. It’s a bit easier to talk this way, without those kind blue eyes gazing into his, that beloved freckled face etched with concern.

Will tries to pull back, but Nico doesn’t let him, and after a moment he winds his arms tighter around Nico’s waist.

“I don’t understand. What are you scared of? You mean the voices?” Will asks, his voice muffled against Nico's chest.

Nico swallows. “I can’t lose you.” And gods just saying the words makes him feel as though he’s going to crumble to pieces. He can’t do this again. Not with Will. He couldn’t save his mother. He couldn’t save Bianca, or Jason. But maybe he can save Will.

“Nico.” Will goes to pull away again, and this time Nico relents. Will yanks him down so Nico’s sitting in his lap.

“You are not going to lose me,” Will says fiercely. “You couldn’t lose me if you wanted to. Is that what this is about? I thought you were mad at me for… you know. Being overbearing, and pushy, and…”

Nico half-shrugs. “I mean, you are,” he says weakly, and Will rolls his eyes and finally, finally smiles.

“Yeah, I know. And I’m really sorry about that. I’m trying to tone it down, and I’m going to keep trying. I’m probably still going to screw up sometimes, but please don’t ever think that I want you to be anything other than what you are, okay?”

“Are you sure?” Nico asks, his throat tight.

“Yes. I want you. And if you don’t want to eat or sleep or - or talk… I’ll still love you just the same.”

“I do want to eat and sleep. And talk,” Nico says, his voice wobbly. "It’s just been really hard lately. I don't - I don't usually mind when you bug me about those things. I know it’s because you care. It's just… the last week or so… my nightmares have been… really bad -” his voice breaks again and this time he can’t pull himself back fast enough and the next thing he’s aware of he’s sobbing, hard enough that he can’t catch his breath. Will doesn’t flinch, though. He gathers Nico in, holds tight. Nico’s not sure how long they stay that way, but Will keeps holding on after the tears have eased, his face pressed into Nico’s shoulder, like if he holds on tight enough, he can will all of Nico’s broken pieces back together. Nico wants him to.

“I wish you’d told me,” Will whispers, and then he pulls back, his eyes searching Nico’s. “Not that - not that you have to tell me everything if you don’t want to. Just - I’ve been worried about you and I wasn’t sure what was going on. I thought it was probably something I’d done.”

Nico shakes his head immediately. “No, it’s not your fault. I’m just the worst.”

Will frowns. “You’re definitely not.”

“I’m sorry you thought it was your fault,” Nico whispers. “And I’m really sorry for losing my temper. And for leaving.”

Will offers him a half-smile. “It’s possible we could do a better job of communicating with each other.”

Nico huffs out a laugh. “Maybe.” He leans his forehead against Will’s. They stay that way for a long moment, Nico following the rise and fall of Will’s breath until he feels himself start to settle. Gods, he could sleep right now. But there are things that need to be said first.

“Okay.” Nico takes a deep breath, pulling back. “You ready for some communication?”

Will grins. “Lay it on me.”

Nico laughs. He loves being in Will’s lap, he’s learned over the past few months. It feels vulnerable, but in a way that’s warm and safe. A way he can’t remember feeling before. But at the moment he finds he needs a little space to collect his thoughts, and he gently extracts himself, moving to sit next to the other boy, their thighs pressed together.

“I’ve been having a lot of dreams, lately, about um… people I’ve lost,” Nico begins, and Will makes a soft sound of understanding.

“My mom, and Bianca. And Jason,” Nico says softly. “And then… I’ve started dreaming about losing you, too.” His voice is rough, and he’s not sure how much of this he’s going to be able to get out before breaking down again. Will reaches for his hand, lacing their fingers together. And yeah, that helps.

“When you got hurt the other night, at capture the flag…” Nico finds he needs to take a moment to master his breathing again and Will, bless him, waits patiently, holding tight to Nico’s hand.

“It really threw me,” Nico says finally. “I saw you lying there, and you were bleeding, and you…” Nico shakes his head, trying to get rid of the image in his mind. “I couldn’t handle it. I just ran. I’m sorry I didn’t stay, and that I didn’t come to see you in the infirmary.”

“It’s okay, I get it,” Will says softly.

“Anyway.” Nico clears his throat. “The nightmares got even worse. After that. It’s been really hard to get them out of my head, even when I’m awake. And I’m actually really freaking out, Will. About Tartarus. And the prophecy,” he finishes, finally glancing at the other boy.

Will nods slowly. “I’ve kind of been freaking out too.”

Nico blinks. “Really? But you’ve - you’ve been so cool about it.”

Will's lips quirk up. “That’s just because I’m cool,” he says, bumping his shoulder against Nico’s.

Nico rolls his eyes.

“And also I didn’t want you to worry, or like… think that I wasn’t tough enough,” Will adds more quietly.

Nico shakes his head. “Will, it’s not that I don't think you're tough, or brave. It’s about… I just can’t lose you. Especially if it’s my fault,” he finishes in a whisper, watching their joined hands instead of Will’s face. There’s a long silence.

“How do you think I’d feel,” Will says quietly, “if you went down there alone, and you… you didn’t come back? If something happened to you, because I wasn’t there to help?”

“Um. Bad?” Nico says weakly, and Will snorts.

"You can’t control everything Nico." Will's voice is gentle, but firm. "People are going to make their own decisions. Sometimes they'll make those decisions because they love you. And you still can’t control that. And the consequences of those decisions are not your fault. We're going to do this together, and we're going to be fine. I'm not going to sacrifice myself to fulfill some stupid prophecy. But I am coming with you."

Nico turns his face into Will's shoulder. “I don’t want you to come,” he wants to say, but even as the words form in his mouth he realizes they’re not true.

“I want you to come. And I hate that I want you to come,” he whispers.

Will leans his head against Nico's. "I'm really glad that you want me with you. But ultimately, it's not your choice. It's mine," he says simply.

Nico pulls back to look the other boy in the eyes. "But what if it's a bad choice?" he asks, a little desperately.

Will shrugs. "Then I make a bad choice. But I'm not planning on dying, and I'm not planning on you dying. My plan is for us to have many, many years of bad choices. Together." He bumps his forehead gently against Nico's.

Nico can feel his eyes welling again. "Really?"

"Yes," Will says, firm. "Well," he amends, "mostly good choices."

Nico laughs wetly and Will gives him that bright, beautiful smile, the one that's just for him, before pulling Nico into his arms. After a moment Nico wiggles himself back into Will's lap and Will hums happily.

Nico sighs, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend, losing himself in Will's warmth and Will's breath. He’s finally, finally, starting to feel the tension in his body begin to ease. Will’s hand rubs soothingly against his back and he just wants to forget everything else. He almost manages it.

"But what if..." Nico begins hesitantly after a moment.

Will sighs. "I know," he says, and then he's quiet. His hand stills on Nico’s back and he takes a deep breath.

"So, this is maybe... kind of dark, but... also not. I don't know." Will pulls back to look at Nico. "I'm gonna tell you what I tell myself, anyway. After Lee died, and Michael... other people too. It's hard not to dwell on that, right? But we're in this... we're in this life where that shit happens. The way I've made sense of it for myself is... if I only get a year with you, then I'm going to love you as hard as I can for the time I have you." Will's voice breaks, and he takes a second to collect himself. "And if a year is all we get, I'm going to cherish that time we had for the rest of my life. I hope we get a lot more time, but if that's all we have, I'm going to be grateful for that. But I don't want to imagine a life where I didn't get to know you and love you," he finishes, his voice rough.

Nico raises a hand to brush the tears from Will's cheek. "That's really beautiful," he whispers.

Will's lips quirk up. "No, you are."

Nico rolls his eyes. "So cheesy."

Will beams, and Nico leans in to kiss him, tears and all. He tries to pour everything he hasn’t yet said into the kiss - his bone-deep gratitude for this boy and the stubborn, steadfast way he loves Nico. The unwavering way he lifts Nico up and holds him together. His comfort and his strength.

"It's been a few days since I've stayed over," Will murmurs when they finally part. "Not - not that I have to stay. I was just um... making an observation."

Nico smiles. "I'd like you to stay. It's just - like I said before... the nightmares have been bad." He makes a face. "I didn't wanna subject you to that."

"I don't mind," Will assures him.

"What if I wake up screaming?"

"It wouldn't be the first time, right? I'll rub your back until you fall asleep again. Or we can talk about it. Or we could make out some more," Will shrugs, going pink.

Nico lets out a giggle.

"I'm just throwing out suggestions," Will says, not quite making eye contact. “I mean. It always makes me feel better.”

Nico laughs, wrapping his arms around the other boy. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," Will giggles. He leans forward, taking advantage of the fact that Nico is already in his lap to scoop him up, carrying him across the cabin and depositing him gently onto his own bed.

Nico can't quite keep the stupid smile from his face as Will pulls off Nico's shoes, then his own, climbing into the bed and covering them both.

Will snuggles against him, draping an arm over Nico’s waist and nuzzling into his neck. And for the first time in weeks, Nico realizes he can imagine a time past this. Past the prophecy and Tartarus and the knot of worry in his stomach. He turns his head against Will’s and sighs.

“After Tartarus,” he says, “do you wanna like… go to Disney World?”

He can feel Will’s soft laugh against his skin, can hear the smile in his voice, “Definitely.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Will agrees.

"I should really change. And brush my teeth. And shower," Nico says reluctantly as Will snuggles even closer. Gods, he's so warm.

"Mm mm," Will disagrees sleepily. "Stay with me."

Nico presses a kiss to the mess of blonde hair next to him. "Okay. I will."

___

Title is from True Colors by Cyndi Lauper. Thanks for reading! :)

#nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #angst #hurt/comfort #post-TOA #hazel levesque #fic exchange #my writing #rated teen for language i guess #wasn't crazy about this when i wrote it but i think it's growing on me

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offsidekineticist · 2 months

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I (finally!) finished my first OC Kiss Week fic! A little familial bonding between Theoven and @silversiren1101's wonderful OC Minovae for the prompt "Lost."

CW: Grief-driven depressive episode, implied child death, referenced chronic pain, reference to an angry outburst resulting in violence against furniture

You were not expecting visitors, so it takes you a moment to get to the door. The second it swings open, you are blinded with an explosion of sunlight shining past the silhouette in the door. Wincing, you raise an aching hand to block the sunlight from your eyes, but it’s no good. Even if you weren’t blinded by the flaming ball of gas in the sky, you haven’t been able to find your glasses since you threw them at the wall in frustration about ten minutes ago.

“Agh–damn. Sorry. I left my glasses inside–who is this?” you ask.

“It’s Minovae,” the figure replies, and you’re at once confused, concerned, and horrified. Confused, because ever since you reconnected with your brother, Gilly has been adamant that he not be allowed to know where you live, lest he and his wife tell the Order of the Rack where you are. You pushed back by pointing out–several times–that the Rack could probably find you on their own, given that you live in the apartment above Gilly’s alchemy shop; his name is literally written on the side of the building. Nevertheless, Gilly was insistent, and everyone involved thought it better to humor him than waste time arguing. For Minovae to be here, either he finally caved or–and this is the source of your concern–something has gone very, very wrong.

On the other hand, you are horrified because you stayed home for a reason! You are not in any state to be seen today, especially not by Regill or his wife. Your hair is unwashed and clumped together from greasiness; you haven’t shaved in days; you probably smell awful; and you don’t even have the energy to bother with proper facial expressions. You’ve been absolutely miserable to be around the past few days, constantly holding yourself back from snapping at people, including the kids (thankfully you haven’t slipped–yet), and so you chose to spare everyone that experience. Let Gilly take the children to a picnic with Aunt Mino and Uncle Regill. Give your family a break from walking on eggshells around you. Nobody was supposed to come to your house in the middle of your temper tantrum.

“Is everything alright?” you ask.

“Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. Giliys just found these in his pocket and thought you’d need them. I volunteered to bring them so he wouldn’t have to cut the outing short.”

‘These’ were a pair of black fingerless gloves she was holding out close enough for you to see. The very gloves you’ve been raging about not being able to find. You remember now–Gilly had dragged you out of the apartment for a walk a few hours before the heatwave finally broke, so it felt too hot to keep the gloves on. The children had taken your bag at the time, and your usual clothes don’t have pockets, so you gave the gloves to Gilly for safekeeping.

It would have been nice of him to remember that before he–

You cut off the thought. You’re being unfair again. It was an honest mistake, one that he immediately took steps to rectify. You would have preferred Minovae not see you in this state, but you know Gilly doesn’t trust her or Regill enough to leave the children alone with them, and you’d rather suffer a little embarrassment than cut short the children’s fun.

(Though you’re not sure that leaving Regill and Gilly together unsupervised was a good idea. Hopefully Harper will be able to keep them in line–your daughter has them both wrapped around her finger)

You reach out with a shaky hand and take the gloves. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it. I won’t keep you any longer, then. I’m sure you’re eager to return to the picnic.” You begin to close the door, but Minovae’s arm shoots forward and holds it open.

“Actually, it was a pretty long walk here from Kite Hill. No shade the whole way, and I forgot to grab a waterskin. Could I come in and sit down for a second? Maybe get a drink of water?”

She expects you to believe that she’s tired and thirsty after walking–without armor–for less than two miles in pleasantly warm weather. You want to slam the door on her arm for her obvious excuse to stay here any longer, but that would be rude. You step back into the apartment and gesture for her to enter. You almost close the door on her tail because you can’t see it without your glasses, but it (thankfully) springs forward at the last second and (less thankfully) almost slaps you in the face. It takes your eyes a moment to readjust to the darkness in the apartment–you’ve closed the curtains trying to reproduce the heat of the last week to stop your hands from aching–but your heart sinks when they do. This floor of the apartment is a single room, with a kitchen and dining area in the half nearest the door and a den area in the other half. Minovae is staring at what used to be the den. You can’t see it very well, of course, but you don’t need to be able to see it to know what she’s looking a: chairs overturned, books strewn across the floor, a bookshelf on its side, broken glass scattered by a pile of copper pieces, toy blocks spread across the floor. You know it’s all there without having to see it because you’re the person who made it like that.

“Oh. Yes.” You pause as you consider how to explain, and settle for understatement. “I was a bit overzealous while looking for my gloves. I was going to clean that up before anyone came home, but…” you gesture towards her. “Anyway, you wanted water.”

“Ah, yes, that would be lovely. Is it alright if I sit here?” You think she’s pointing at the dinner table, but she could be pointing at the bookshelf you knocked over. You don’t care which it is.

“Oh, that’s fine,” you say, moving towards the sink and taking a glass from the counter to fill it. When you turn around, a full glass in your aching hand, Minovae–or at least a large blob you assume is Minovae–is, indeed, sitting at the kitchen table. It’s a comical sight once you come closer. You have furnished your apartment with furniture made for smallfolk, so she is sitting in a chair too small for her, her knees poking above the top of the table. “Here you are,” you say, sliding the glass towards her before retreating to the wall opposite her.

“Thank you,” she says, taking the glass and taking a long sip. “Oh, that’s nice after a long walk.”

You stare at her flatly. You’re fairly sure she invited herself in because she found your appearance concerning. Now that she’s probably even more concerned, you’re morbidly curious as to what excuse she’ll make for why she still can’t leave.

“So, you did all that just since Giliys left with the kids?” Minovae asks, gesturing towards the den.

Ah, so she’s dispensing with subtlety entirely. Then you can do so, as well. “Despite my appearance, I am not so senile as to need a minder. You should go back to enjoying the day with your family.”

“You’re my family, too. And…” she hesitates “...I’m worried about you.”

“Because my face is blank,” you say. There are other reasons, you’re sure–your appearance, the den, your missing glasses, your absence from the picnic–but you’re not willing to discuss any of them, so you ignore them. “Believe it or not, this is my natural level of expression. After the bleaching, my emotions became…muted, but also disconnected. My face doesn’t naturally express much emotion. People find that unsettling, of course, so I learned to put on a face for them. Best not lend any credence to the idea I didn’t have emotions anymore.”

“Don’t tell me people believe that nonsense!” she exclaims in disbelief.

“One of my childhood best friends became completely hostile towards me because she believed it. Tried to get me fired several times. Even tried to steal Qweck away from me once,” you say, and while she does a good job of keeping it from her face, the way her tail is squirming in agitation tells you she’s furious on your behalf.

“So you learned to put on an act for them, because otherwise they would treat you like a pariah,” Minovae says, and you think you hear a note of bitter sympathy as she does.

“It’s not exactly an act–I think of it more like speaking a foreign language. My thoughts are in my native tongue, but my native tongue won’t be understood. So instead I speak as the locals do. Through facial expressions.” You briefly put on a wry, if somewhat melancholic, smile before again dropping the mask. “I just don’t have the energy today, I’m afraid. The change in the weather aggravated my hands. Better I stay home and rest for the day.”

“It’s not just today, though, is it?” she asks with a gentleness that feels patronizing. “You’ve been feeling…off…for awhile. Mayhew let me look at his sketchbook. And I accidentally saw–”

“His artistic impression of his father moping at the kitchen table,” you say, and you are glad she can’t see how exposed you feel by that.

Mayhew’s style is unusual, especially for a child of his mental age. He senses people’s emotions as naturally as you hear sounds, and that colors the way he sees the world to such an extent that “realism” to him means conveying feelings even at the expense of physical form. He usually does this through his use of color, choosing colors based on the mood. Mayhew’s most recent portrait of you, however, was more than just a recolored portrait. He drew your face, shattered and distorted like a broken mirror, against a dark red background, with black seeping through the cracks in your face like some kind of anti-light.

“He said that he made it to show you that your feelings are lying to you,” she continues.

“Did he now?”

Of course he did. Mayhew is a child–your child–and he’s idolized you since the day you met. Gilly calls him Junie–short for Theo, Jr–and it’s not just because of the resemblances in your coloration and mannerisms. Mayhew thinks the world of you, dreams of being like you, and this is the time of year when you remember just how unworthy you are of his esteem. Of course he thinks your feelings are lying.

You hadn’t realized that was what he was trying to show you, though. It felt like a very correct portrait to you, so you had assumed he finally saw through you.

“He’s worried about you,” Minovae says. You lean back against the wall with a soft sigh through your nose.

“I know. I know he is.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Well, stop that,” you say, almost immediately kicking yourself for it. She isn’t used to deadpan Theoven. “That was a joke,” you clarify.

“I’m serious. You don’t seem alright.”

You close your eyes, bracing yourself. Clearly, she isn’t going to leave until you've given her some kind of explanation. You choose your words carefully before you open your eyes and speak. “It’s nothing permanent. It’s just a few bad days–entirely expected. It should subside sometime next week. Anniversaries of mistakes prompt reflection. And reflection is not always a nice experience.” You force a friendly smile to cap off the reassurance. “But I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that.”

“I want you to be alright.”

“My dear, you are several years too late for that.” You can’t see her expression from where you’re standing, but the lack of reaction tells you the joke fell flat. “That was also a joke,” you clarify.

“One that you believe.”

“Of course. Those are the best kinds of jokes.”

She sighs heavily. “Just…is there something I can do?”

You shake your head. “No. It is too late for anything to be done. I checked. It can’t be helped now.”

“I meant to help you.”

“I know.” Because what else could help you? You are like this because you are guilty. The only way to get rid of the guilt is to pluck out its source–and that can’t be done.

“Are you sure nothing can be done? I’m willing to help–there are things I can do that most can’t.”

“Yes, things such as running the first successful Mendevian Crusade in decades, closing the worldwound, and convincing my brother to marry. But even the great Knight-Commander herself can’t resurrect a soul that’s already been judged.” The bitter words slip out before you can stop them. You stop to center yourself before–

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Do not patronize me!” you snap, and you immediately regret it. You close your eyes and breathe in deeply. Balance, you remind yourself. She is tearing open old wounds. She is trying to help. Both can be true. Both are true. Let that guide your words. “I’m sorry. That was rude. And uncalled for. I just…I don’t like that phrase. It…”

You search for words to explain safely, but can find none. There is no safe way to explain the way it grates for other people to apologize to you for a loss that is entirely your fault.

“Would you like to talk about it?” she asks.

“No.” Of course you don’t want to talk about it–you haven’t even told Gilly about it. He assumes this annual pity-party is about your arrest. He’s right, partly. It’s just that it’s not the arrest itself that haunts you.

Leave Mister Theo alone!

Minovae doesn’t hear the cry echoing through the years. She only hears the silence that rings after you say no. Perhaps now she’ll understand that you want her to leave.

“You’re going to need help if you’re going to clean this mess up before Giliys and the kids get home.”

“By the gods, do you ever stop?” you demand, fixing her with an exhausted glare. “What do I have to say to make you go? Are you going to stay until I tell you about her? Is that it? Gilly gave you our address, so now you’re entitled to see me bare my soul to–” you cut yourself off. You’re putting words into her mouth, expecting her to read your mind and know you want her to leave when you haven’t told her that’s what you want. “I’m sorry. That was unfair of me. What I’m trying to say is that I need to be alone today.”

She doesn't answer right away, seemingly needing a minute to deal with the whiplash of your outburst and immediate apology. You can’t blame her.

“Would it be alright for me to clean up while you rest?” she finally asks.

You stare at her, trying to search her face for sincerity but unable to make out her facial expressions without your glasses. She seems to have gotten her tail back under control, so the only clue you’ll get to her intentions (without squinting and moving closer like an old man in the comedies, at least) is her tone. “Why?”

“Because Mayhew is worried about you, and I think coming home to something like this will make it worse. And I don’t think you’ll be able to do it by yourself in the state you’re in.”

She’s right. She’s absolutely right. You’re a mess, and it’s hurting the children, and you can’t fix it yourself. And even if being alone is what you want, it’s not what’s best for your children.

Maybe it’s not even best for you.

You lean your head back against the wall and do your best to swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m sorry,” you finally say. “You shouldn’t have to spend your day off cleaning up after me. This is why I didn’t go today–none of you should have to put up with this. Especially not without warning.”

She gets up from her comically undersized chair and approaches you. She’s short for tallfolk, but you’re so small that she still towers over you. She puts her hands on your shoulders and looks down at you with an expression of earnest care.

“I understand if you didn’t have the energy, or if you didn’t want to be seen like this. But if it’s for our sakes, I think both Regill and I would rather that you let us help you.” She hesitates, and then says “I would rather that you let me help you.”

You don’t want that. You don’t want to be a burden. But you also know that mentality isn’t healthy–and how many times have your attempts not to be a burden hurt the people you were afraid of inconveniencing? You take a long, deep breath and remind yourself: when you feel the urge to do something self-destructive, do the opposite.

You bow your head, staring at the floor. “I think I will work on the mess. I don’t think lying in bed will help me much.” You have to fight yourself to get the next words out. “If you…want to help…I would appreciate it. Just…” you pause, wanting to make sure you say the right words, wanting to be fair but firm. You raise your head, looking her in the eye as you speak. “Do not ask me about it anymore. I don’t want to discuss it.”

She leans over and kisses you on the crown of your head. “I understand. I’m sorry for pushing.”

You take another breath. Breathe. “You were–are–worried. I can’t hold that against you.” You turn your head towards the mess of blurry shapes that used to be the den. “You know, without my glasses, it looks much less intimidating from here. We should consider cleaning from here. And if we find my glasses it might be effective to re-lose them. It may be easier.”

There’s a moment of silence, and for the third time you’re kicking yourself for forgetting she’s not used to picking your jokes out from the rest of your words without tone markers. You’re about to clarify–“that was a joke”–when she snorts.

She isn’t fluent in your native tongue, but you think she might be learning–and that means everything.

#pwotr pals #pathfinder wotr #friend's oc #oc: minovae arangeir #oc: theoven derenge #ockiss24

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asukamood · 2 months

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Target Syndrome (EX)

***

Hello everyone! So, I’m currently in the process of writing the next part of BTH as I’ve noticed a lot of you have taken a liking to that series (I have as well, torturing Hacker is just too much fun for me) and I realized that you guys would be very confused concerning some aspects that I am planning on placing there.

The reason for that is I’ve changed and added a lot of headcanons to Hacker’s backstory (like, a lot) such as a fictional disease that I am going to present right now.

This post is an explanation post, it might not be the most entertaining thing ever and I am quite sorry about that, but I can hardly think of a way to explain the subject in a story like I am going to with the psych ward episode.

Anyway, enjoy?

***

What is Target Syndrome?

It is the name given to the disease caused by a soul malformation. It is a rare disease, having only 300 000 cases registered in the multiverse ever since it was first discovered in 1925. Its name stems from the shape the soul tends to take in most cases.

This disease affects both the physical and mental health of an individual, the severity of said impact depends on the stage reached by the individual.

How are individuals affected by the disease diagnosed?

The shape of the individual’s soul is both very useful to detect whether an individual is affected by the disease and how far the disease has spread. Since soul screening often requires magical equipment, universes whose inhabitants lack magic have a difficult time to accurately diagnose patients.

(Note: Patients are often misdiagnosed as depressed or anxious.)

Besides soul screening, no accurate method of diagnosis exists.

What differentiates the stages from another?

Stage 1: The patient's soul is a usual heart-shaped organ. The only difference with a regular soul is that there is a visible white outline inside of the heart. At this stage, the patient is hardly distinguishable from any regular individual. The only thing that could distinguish them would be the unusual pang of pain one would feel sometimes. However, these pains are bearable and are mostly overlooked.

Stage 2: The patient’s soul is an upside-down heart; the presence of the white line can still be seen. The pains that were mentioned earlier get worse by this stage. They get so bad that it is not uncommon for patients to be rendered unable to function properly because of these. They may also display constant signs of distress or general discomfort. Some of their limbs may also cease to function properly temporarily.

Stage 3: The patient’s soul will be shaped like a round target, the white line now more prominent. The pains are now (almost) constant and unbearable, being so bad that patients affected by this pain can be heard screaming or passing out. They will show themselves to be hostile to most people, as well as hot-tempered, defiant and defensive. They are more likely to engage in dangerous behaviors for both themselves and the people around them. Severe signs of distress including, but not exclusive to, self-harm, suicidal tendencies or frequent meltdowns.

Stage 4: Their entire body will hurt as if they were burned alive. They would not be coherent enough to say anything intelligible or be aware of their surroundings. In that state, they do not, or rather cannot, react to external stimuli. Medication does not have any effect on the pain felt by the patient. After 12 hours, the patient succumbs to the disease as their soul, distorted and broken, is unable to provide enough energy to keep their organs functioning.

(Note: There are “in-between” stages that mix the symptoms of two different stages.)

What are the causes of the disease?

Its origins are unknown, though it is not a hereditary disease nor a mutation of a gene. A correlation between the soul state, the body state and the production of serotonin and dopamine (and other hormones of this type) has been established. However, the exact cause and effect relationship between these factors have yet to be determined.

Does a treatment against the disease exist?

No, currently, no treatment can cure the disease. However, reverting a patient to a preceding stage is possible thanks to a consummation of specific dosage of anti-depressants and/or anti-anxiety medications.

Although, this method is rarely employed as the administration of a different dosage than the recommended one threatens the patient’s well-being. This applies to other medications as well, including painkillers.

The environment in which a patient is kept also seems to have a direct effect on the development of the disease. Without the aid of medications, it is possible for a patient to revert to the previous stage if the environment they are in is in favor of recovery.

***

Hacker is affected by that disease no matter what AT or AU is used.

Relevance to BTH: During the first two posts of BTH, Hacker was in Stage 1. From Hurt to According to plan, Hacker was in Stage 2.5, closer to Stage 3 than Stage 2.

Relevance to BTH-2: ---

#dreamswap #angst #explanation #explanation post #bad things happen #hacker #ds hacker #dreamswap hacker #fictional disease

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mercityart · 2 years

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So, I've been thinking and I wanna do a creepypasta x y/n type thing, if y'all could send requests n stuff that'd be awesome. For now tho, let's start simple.

Tw: these characters are mentally unwell individuals who don't typically have the means for therapy or medication, they aren't meant to be perfect, and just like so many other ppl they can be toxic and exhibit bad behavior such as self harm, possessiveness and so much more.

WHAT TYPE OF LOVER THEY ARE.

Toby- ooooh boy buckle up for this one. Toby is extremely sweet, almost sickeningly so if we are being honest. However, he does have really bad episodes. Toby has many mental issues, some being schizophrenia and bpd(borderline personality disorder), along with bipolar. His mood can switch so quick and violently it's nauseating. He has episodes he has little to no memory of and severely struggles with self harm, eating disorders and much more. He does not mean to hurt himself and/or others. He tries his best to treat you like a prince/princess/royalty/etc. He loves to take you on hikes and anything physically active and outside, always having far too much energy. He's the type of lover who will carry you on his back or shoulders if you are too exhausted or even hurt. Speaking of which, never tell him you are hurt or gods forbid it's the end of the world. He will baby tf outta you. He's the true definition of "golden retriever boyfriend". Although I see him more as a rednecks bullybreed in my opinion. Sweet, smiley, overly energetic, smart but super ditzy but will bite someone if told to, forever loyal. During episodes where he's super down just rub his back and hum to him, don't force him to do stuff and take everything at one miniscule step at a time, instead of thinking "just take a shower then rest before something else" think "ok, turn on the water, see how far you can go and if you are too tired that's ok, I'll help you, if you just don't wanna, that's ok I'm here let's watch or listen to music". Honestly he just needs a lot more love. He will be protective, playful and always willing to help. A good boy.

Tim- Oh dear Thanatos give me strength. This man is such a softy for his lover(s). He has such a gruff exterior and will always display it, however, when it comes to you that'll soften significantly. You are baby. That's that. He will treat you as his equal, always. This is good and bad though as he will forget that you aren't used to the shit he goes through as the unfortunate victim of the Operator. Don't get me wrong, he will eventually realize but it takes his brain a lil bit of calibrating first. For example, he can say something super insensitive then after a few minutes he's all, "aw shit, darlin I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it like that, are you ok? What I meant was-" He tries his damnedest I swear, he's just a mentally ill southern man, he ain't the brightest at times but he tries. Now, he can have a temper but rest assured it's unlikely he'll ever lay a hand on you, some other poor soul? Maybe, but definitely not you. He may slam a door or stomp about but he won't even breathe on you. Sometimes though, after a really rough day he can end up in a screaming match with you, but he'll try and make up for it like crazy. Breakfast in bed, more per names, maybe an "I love you" he seldom gives, hell he may even slow dance with you in the kitchen while you guys make food. This mf do be making dad jokes like crazy, he's toughen up a lot since marble hornets but he's still Tim. He's a goofball at times. And let's not forget whats also not battery powered. Cue the music. He loves sitting out on the porch or the windowsill strumming at his guitar or ukalele while writing lil lyrics, later presenting you with his song once it's finished. Also, he gives the best hugs, we love our strong short chubby king.

Brian- look at this hunk of a man. He is like a mix of Tim and Toby. He's smart, calculating, absolutely charming, but he can also be tough, silly and oh so caring. He will always throw around jokes and give the biggest smug grin afterwards showing his gorgeous smile(the cute Lil tooth gaaap) He loves to pick you up and swing you around with his big strong arms. Actually, he loves showing off for you in general when he can. He's really fit, constantly working out, but it's a bit unhealthy, hence why he's so obviously muscular. He doesn't eat a healthy amount and excercises too much, unlike Tim who is just as strong bit looks less fit. This man is the definition of a highschool Jock except he's actually super fucking smart. Now, be aware he's a psychology major, he can be very quite at times and is able to analyze every move you make. He is extremely protective, at times to the point of possessiveness but sometimes it's as though he couldn't really give af. He is an absolute beast of a man, he will use his extreme height, broadness and muscle mass to his advantage. However he is so soft with you. If y'all fight though he is not going to hesitate to pick you up and put you over his shoulders, put you somewhere soft and quiet and then leave for a few hours to cool down. He isn't prone to violence but be careful, if he snaps he blacks out and even Tim would panic in that scenario. He does do everything he can in his power to prevent this from happening, taking medication, smoking weed, going on a long hike, taking anger out on trees, etc. Tbh him and Tim are like dads.

Jeff- Jeff, oh boy. Now, he is definitely a lil rat bastard, as most short trans men(such as myself) are, but xe's not as bad as you may think. Honestly he likely will treat you like a best friend. It will make some morbid jokes, smoke with you if you want, do some stupid shit like vandalism, he don't give af. Xe is very into alternative fashion and music, if you enjoy doing makeup and all sorts of artsy stuff count him in. He won't hesitate to put you in a headlock btw. He will 100000% throw you around and wrestle with you for shits n giggles. It is also, surprisingly a hopeless romantic. He may act all cool on the outside, or at least try, but xe honestly is all heart eyes at the smallest bs. He is so supportive in his own way, saying stuff like "babe, I promise you, you have the absolutely fffffffffattest ass I have ever seen. You is THICC!" Also, please please please pleeeeease call xem "baby boy", "handsome" or even "bunny", he will absolutely melt, and do this while playing with it's hair while he's sitting down playing on his phone between your legs while yet on the couch? Aaaagbkghklg. This man will do anything you want istg. Also, hope you like dogs bc he's got two. Smile dog(aka smiles) and smiley. I know. So creative right? It didn't want to rename them after finding them so he just stuck with it, but he dies tend to call smiles princess though. Also, will absolutely make you his favorite food growing up that his madre made growing up, empanada.

Liu- ah, big mans. Oooooweeeeee. Liu's side is very reserved and quiet. They will kiss your palms and watch you all puppy like when you talk. He isn't huge on talking as he found with Sully it leads to more arguing. He is a body mods artist so if you want tattoos, pricings, etc. You bet he's doing em. Any price of you he modifies he will kiss oh so sweetly, however, they prefer to reserve kisses for spots you dislike about yourself or past scars to remind you how much he loves and appreciates you. He loves to be big spoon but they prefers you two facing each other equally giving affection so he can see how you melt into him while you also can see just how much he cares about you. Due to their job he does get some big bucks so you better love being absolutely soiled and pampered. Anything you show even the slightest smidge of interest towards is yours now. Also, please do his makeup if you do yours in the morning. Having you sit in their lap doing eyeshadow while he rubs your sides his so therapeutic for him. Extremely gentle giant, his issue is they have a hard time communicating and shuts down when confronted. The best time way to deal with an issue is through notes. He likes to pass notes to one another before speaking and agreeing to a solution fully. They don't usually outwardly show if he's upset, but trust me, you will know. Sully doesn't keep his mouth shut ever.

Sully- Sully is very different from Liu. He's very outgoing and brutally honest, extremely blunt and talkative. He will be extremely wary of you at first, and he has severe, and I mean severe, commitment issues. They'll eventually come around though. They love to show you off, constantly holding you up on a shining pedistle for all to see. He likes to hype you tf up. They also love to dance with you, please dance to some Spanish music with them, it'll make their heart race. He also will give you so so so many kisses if you do anything to honor his heritage as his mother is Latina and he grew up around his Mexican family and even lived in Mexico part of his life growing up. If you sing porque te vas to him he will absolutely smother you with kisses. His favorite food was for sure tamales whilst Liu preferred mole.

Otis- Now, Otis is extremely reserved and can come off as cold when he's not masking. He does card though. She just has a hard time showing it he's not huge on giving physical affection or verbal. He typically shows his love through handmade gifts. He does enjoy cuddling on the couch after a rough day though. They don't hate physical or verbal affection, but growing up he was forced to give affection when he didn't want to and was more often shown "affection" through violence, not to mention she's worried that whatever you are wearing will set off their sensory issues. Otis will 10000% shut down if in a argument, but if anyone threatens him or puts hand on them, she will kick their ass no matter what. Otis is a big boy and exhibits behavior very similar to that of a cat. Her favorite thing to do is to sketch, draw, or paint you when you aren't paying attention. He just loves the way you look and the emotions he feels when observing the work they've created. On a really bad day the best thing for you two to do is take a bath bubble bath together surrounded by yummy smelling candles, ambient lighting, and of course having your skin touch hers. She loves the way your skin feels but hates clothes, if he had it her way he'd never wear clothes but sadly society says otherwise. Their thought process is(as is mine) nothing is innapropriate unless someone makes it innapropriate.

Jack (E.J.)- This man is very cold. He doesn't comprehend emotions as much as he used to before the incident. He loves observing you and trying to determine what emotions he is feeling in that moment. He is extremely blunt and anilitical, always saying whatever he is thinking to say. He struggles with having mercy on your emotions. He does apologize and feel guilty when he finds out it made you feel negatively and is always willing to learn and work things out. He wants you to feel safe, comfortable and loved with him. He believes he is a hard person to love due to his situation, believing he is a hideous monster. He severely lacks confidence and it takes a long time for him to even give you a peak at his skin, nevermind not wear his mask around you. He believes you are the most gorgeous person in exhistence and wholeheartedly believes it. He struggles a lot with his hair and it's very damaged. Jack, prior to the incident was a black man and as such his hair was extremely thick and had a super tight curl pattern. Now he typically keeps it straight, please teach him how to take care of his hair, he loves his natural hair but no one taught him how to take care of it as he was adopted by a racist white family growing up as a teen. give him some locks, cornrows, extensions, box braids, hell, teach him how to keep his hair in a natural state while styling. He loves you touching him and you doing his hair not only boosts his confidence but also is extremely therapeutic for him and he views it as romantic and affectionate. He loves to take care of you and you taking care of him makes his heart swell with love. This man is extremely loving, he won't be too clingy or overbearing, he respects your boundaries. He's simply content with the fact you don't hate or fear him. He does like to sneak up on you though. The little noises that come out of your mouth when you notice his large frame towering over you suddenly is both adorable and hilarious. You are his little rabbit, his mate, his lover, what more can I say?

For more scenarios and characters pls simply comment or send me it privetly as an ask or message.

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