#I usually remember like 2-3 dreams per night
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had a dream last night that hermitcraft just. ended. out of nowhere and it's the middle of the season but it's over now, and I got so upset I won't get to see certain projects reach their end that I woke up and until literally 10 minutes ago when I saw there's new episodes I haven't watched, I was sure it's actually a real thing that happened and that I just didn't remember what happened in my dream last night-
#I usually remember like 2-3 dreams per night#I just thought I didn't this time but no it's just that it became part of my worldview#hermitcraft
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HAD A DREAM ABOUT SANS DURING MY NAP....................... he was flirting with me like big time bc he kept trying to get me to admit i liked him too but i was convinced he was just messing with me so i just. completely refused. he kept making a huge fool of himself essentially confessing to me (i think maybe someone told him i liked him also? so to some extent at least he was aware that i really DID like him) and since i was so certain he was just making fun of me i totally completely refused to say anything. hed be like "aw cmon im baring my heart to you here" and id just laugh and turn away or look at my phone or something like "nope. not sayin anything about this"
#hghgthugsrhgst#cherry chats#bf (bone friend)#it was a nice dream!!! other stuff happened too but most of this dream was nice actually#if you have roughly 3 dreams per night that usually blend into one another and i happened to somehow have about 3 dreams during my nap#if normally 3 out of 3 dreams are nightmares or sometimes if im lucky 2 out of 3 dreams are nightmares#then this one was miraculously enough like. 1 out of 3 dreams was a nihgtmare#hell yea go dream fairy. wooo#anyway he kept trying to get me to pay attention to him but we were also with some other people (cant remember who)#and i was convinced the moment i showed any interest in him back hed be like. lol jk#at least i found the whole thing pretty amusing albeit mutually embarrassing#but i REFUSED to give him the satisfaction. even though he wasnt messing with me#not like i knew that though. ugphrehugthgthstr
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I See You, Darling (3)
[Astarion x reader] As I mentioned in a previous post, this came along surprisingly easier than the last one. The same can’t be said about the quality though maybe– sorry for that. :,DDD|Word count: 2.6k.|
Content Warnings: Mentions of cooking, handling knives, blood, one sex joke (lol), the normal warnings that you’d associate with the game
Part 2 here!!
Next Part here!!
As an outsider to most of everyone’s problems, you find your place by helping in whatever way you can. Even if that may be at the expense of your own comfort, but at least it’s been fun so far.
Alternatively: Reader can't catch a break from anything, can they?
————━─━────༺༻────━─━————
Being resident camp caretaker was surprising, for lack of a better term. You were away from the stresses of technology, corporate assholes, and disappointing family with your choice to pursue unpractical careers. Instead living the “cottagecore lifestyle” of foraging for food and cooking with a cauldron that those from the digital world claimed to be the best. What they failed to mention were the incessant pests coming in to nibble through rucksacks if you were not careful, and the occasional swarms of ants or flies coming in to nip at your flesh.
The experience was a mixed bag, so it would seem. But the tired smiles that the group would give you when you greet them with a warm and filling meal was always a comfort that you would have.
And it would seem they needed it now more especially than ever.
Your band of misfits planned to venture out and defeat the goblins at their camp in order to aid the tieflings’ journey to Baulder’s Gate. Per your instruction, you convinced the more solipsistic members of the benefits of eradicating the sect. Namely, they wouldn’t hinder you as much in the future if they were taken care of. Hence your plan to slightly increase the amount of portions for supper tonight.
By twilight, you had a good broth steeping in your cauldron. The camp having returned just a few moments prior from an earlier excursion. You were making a pottage that the others have expressed their enjoyment for. A stew of sorts that you had made when you had quite the number of items that would have spoiled before consumption had you not done anything about it. A mixture of fruits and meat, stewed in a consomme of a pig’s head and various mushroom caps.
This time around, you’ll be using fresher ingredients to hopefully lift their spirits.
As you’re chopping up fruits, you think about all that’s happened to you and possible explanations for why your character suddenly ceased to exist in order to make room for you. What’s more is that no matter how many nights pass, you never end up waking from your dream. Which you fear is lasting longer than your usual ones.
Your working theory is that whatever force, be it magic or fate, tethering you to this world is also responsible for removing Tav. Astarion claimed that he couldn’t remember the finer details when you had confronted him. And so you settled with that hypothesis. That like how a thread that unravels opens a seam in a garment, a new thread must be used to darn the cloth together again.
You laugh at the disgustingly poetic analogy you created in your head. You fear that you’re becoming more and more deranged as—
“My, aren’t you busy?” The intrusive voice causes the knife to slip out of your hand a bit, thankfully only cutting off a portion of your index finger’s nail. Your shoulders, that were raised in alarm, release their tension after feeling the sudden chill leave your body.
“Astarion,” Exasperated, you put the knife down on the cutting board to catch your breath for a while.
“I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped sneaking up on me when I’m doing something dangerous.”
The high-elf offers a mischievous smile in response. “Very sorry, pet. But it’s hardly my fault when you’ve barely been paying attention to me.” There’s regret in his words, but not in his tone.
Because while perhaps it’s an odd interest, he enjoys hearing the quickened pace of your heart. The pulse getting louder, as it stays that way for longer.
“I’d feel sorry for doing so if you were too, but you’re not.”
You laugh out, breath still shaky but steadying slowly, as you pick up your knife again.
“I heard you’re part of the encampment that’s finishing off the goblins by midmorn.” Chopping the rest of the fruits, you feel his presence move from behind you to off to your side so you can see him from your peripherals.
“Hm? Yes. Although I would have preferred if we didn’t do this at all. It’s too much work, and the goblins could be entertaining! Killing useful spoils seems like an awful waste.”
This must be the reason why he approached you, to persuade you to call off the hunt. And his unfading smile supports that thought. When you voice said thought, it earns you a playful scoff.
“Don’t you have anything else on your mind other than the parasite lounging in it?”
The mood is light as you say this, the banter welcomed by you both.
And as you continue to converse, a few eyes begin to follow the two of you. They’ve never really seen Astarion interact with you for this long, at least not away from your private spaces. And even less without hushed voices. The interlocution is definitely a welcome spectacle to them.
“On my honor, the only thing on my mind is depraved, carnal lust.” He says, proudly. Gesturing to himself with one hand, and the other held high like he was swearing an oath.
Your closed mouth drops into frown, eyes wide, and your eyebrows skew upwards. A very undignified, but small, squeak coming from the back of your throat. You swore you heard someone groan in disappointment from far away too.
You know full well that the look of shock that you were sporting was by no means attractive, but the flagrant revelation, though not at all out of character, was shocking to have directed towards you. You’ve been trying to romance the elven vampire with your character, only to end up nowhere. Therefore you are completely unsure if the dialogue he was spewing was completely a figment of your imagination, or is, indeed, canon.
The elf in question has seen this expression of yours before. Quite often, too. And while he doesn’t think it a, “pleasant sight,” it is rather… charming to him.
Whether it be on purpose or not, people have the tendency to be on guard around him, preserving any twitch and sound that could give them away to themselves. Not that much had ever evaded him before with his naturally cunning behavior. But this clearly unscripted response, with the blatant confusion swimming in your eyes, is a rather refreshing sight to see.
“I see–” you clear your throat to lower your voice back to its normal octave. “Well, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities to uh, bring those thoughts into fruition! Uh–,” You slide the rest of the cut fruits off of your cutting board and into the stew.
“Is there anything else you wanted to tell me? Something I should know?” You turn to face him. He laughs at first, but then his brows furrow in question, as if he did have something to say and forgot about it or thinks it is no longer an appropriate time to ask. He shakes his head and says something along the lines of, “letting you do all the hard work” and returns to his tent.
But you are not left alone for long as another member of your little ragtag team joins you to ask about dinner. To which you ask them for which meat would be better to toss into it.
—————————
After dinner, your little rapport concerning the plan and new findings with everyone is adjourned. Some thanked you before they left, and others simply walked away. From what you have learned from them, the Archdruid that was taken prisoner by the goblins was named, “Halsin.” He was a topic of interest as they said he might be able to aid you in your search for moonrise and understanding the Mindflayer worms.
Wyll had also approached you alone after dinner and offhandedly mentioned a dead boar being on the road. He had planned to return to camp with it if it could have been useful, but he had claimed that the animal had been unnervingly light. As if half of its weight was no longer there despite seemingly just keeling over for no reason.
You take note of that in one of your many journals, including additional information about the Archdruid and their kind in general. The book appearing more and more like the game’s quest booklet, with the exception of a few crossouts and colored ink to emphasize each quest’s urgency and relevance to finding a cure. When you successfully rescue the druid of the grove, it seems you will have to move out quite soon after, so you fixed up your pack just a bit to make it easier later on.
You look around, everyone seems to be in their respective areas. Doing whatever it is they usually do with the exception of Astarion. Though he has been known to either sneak off or hide away from time to time in his tent, so you think nothing of it.
You return to the communal chest, tallying up the remaining supplies and inspecting the wares. You sort the tradeable objects in one rucksack and appraise its worth. The chest also has pieces of gold, some that others have placed, and others you picked up and added. You prefer to let the others keep what they think is valuable to them, and only place what they want to share in the vessel.
If the party’s gold ever runs out, you think that the rucksack is worth a few nights of food when you travel out again. Assured by this knowledge, you placed your writing materials back in, closed the chest, and turned in for the night.
Maybe this time, you’ll wake up. But you also don’t really want to. Not just yet.
—————————————
As you slept, you wondered about the longevity of your knowledge of the media. You hadn’t finished the game, and although you’ve accomplished a fair bit of it, you worry about how you will face the events to come. One of the only reasons why you haven’t flinched so much at the terrors that occurred was because you had anticipated them. Braced yourself for the dangers ahead.
You fear what might happen when you no longer have that power at your disposal.
Perhaps it's the worry, perhaps it's the stiff, compact ground that you have yet to be accustomed to sleep on despite the bedroll, or perhaps it's the presence of something suddenly cool that stirs you awake.
But what you did not expect was Astarion’s face hovering over yours to be the reason. Fangs bared, and ready to bite. Your eyes go wide and you let out a small gasp, hands moving up in a gesture akin to clawing at yourself.
The elf realizes that you’re awake now and he curses. Moving away as you scramble upright just like you did all those nights ago. The look of genuine fear at the prospect of being bitten is apparent on your face, and he feels almost guilty to be greeted with it.
“Please, I wasn’t going to hurt you— I just needed, well, blood.” He says it in a panic. Worried that you might run off, losing his only sure chance, and possibly enraging the rest of the camp.
In this moment, you realized the error in your ways. Astarion had been hunting nearly every other night in the same area. And if you were progressing through the events like how the game did, he couldn’t have had the time nor energy to venture too far after feeding from most of the creatures in the vicinity.
‘The exsanguinated boar…’ You remember.
“You’ve been feeding on animals for the past few nights, haven’t you?”
“It seems like word got around then.” Although unknowingly, he’s referencing what Wyll delivered to you earlier in the night.
“I’m not some monster, I feed on boars, deer, kobolds– whatever I can get. I’m just too slow right now. And with the damned excursion,” He stops himself, complaining is only doing worse for his condition.
“It’s not enough. I feel so…weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better.” You’re conflicted. You had no problem offering yourself as your character for him to feed on, but even witnessing that through a disconnected screen was enough to make you feel uncomfortable imagining it. You care about him, want to give him what he deserves, but this…
What’s more is that you know what he’s saying is necessary, not at all overstating how dire his need to satiate his hunger is, making it all the more difficult.
He needs to convince you, if he wants to continue on, that is. Without the presence of the illithid, he resorts to more practical means of doing so. Similar to what he did to many.
Noticing the slight tremor of your hands, he takes the chance to slowly kneel down on your bedroll. Closing the distance between you. He takes your hand, now rougher from the work you do, and meets your shaken gaze with his dark eyes.
“Please. I only need a taste, I swear.” He had meant to tell you before dinner, had he not felt the eyes of the others on the two of you. This discovery is not lost on you. He needs you specifically. And you realize it's out of convenience because you’re an expendable resource. If you pass, the group can venture on, but he also still needs you alive for whatever reason. He can’t have the others finding out, not until they trust him.
He needs you to trust him. And this is the only way you can help him in this moment.
With that, you strengthen your resolve.
“I…I trust you, Astarion. But no more than what you need.” A dangerous bet, but you hope it would be worth it.
“Really? I–”
“Can I trust you on that?” The shock on his face fades, and he agrees.
“Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?” You lay down, preparing yourself to faint during the process and allowing your blood to flow throughout your body. He observes the rapid movement of your eyes as he drapes himself above you. Your sight flitting from anywhere but him and then returning all the same. No doubt that you fear being at his mercy.
He feels almost sorry that you have to do this for him.
So he graces you with what mercy he can give.
The bite is quick. You would have felt the flesh of your neck parting for him, had he not done so. You feel tears prick at your eyes and start to feel the area from your neck and upwards go cold.
A momentary, sharp pain, that lulls to a chilling numbness in what seems like a matter of seconds.
You feel his body start to grow warmer at your expense and you feel satisfied knowing that you could help him.
When he doesn't stop, you start to worry.
Your breath catches in staccato beats, pulse quickening in tandem. You try to stop him, hands coming up to push or tug, but the heavy sensation that washes over you only permits them to find purchase on his form.
You try to speak, but it seems as if the common tongue does not reach him.
Your mind goes into overdrive, all of a sudden it doesn’t feel like a dream anymore and genuine fear courses through your veins.
You need him to stop, and you try to think of more efficient ways of doing so.
But your mind starts slowing as well. The pain has certainly faded, but the presence of the vampire at your throat reminds you in case you’ve forgotten.
As a last ditch effort, you try to use whatever might appeal to him, to break him out of the trance that he was in from finally replenishing himself.
“Isalhal–” One of the few Elvish words you recalled.
The effort thankfully makes him pull back in shock, stopping him. Your eyes finally close, thankful for the reprieve you're finally granted. You hear a distant, “thank you,” and a more distant “shit” before rest takes over.
You worry about waking up tomorrow.
But for now, you’re thankful that Astarion will be able to fight well.
For himself and for everyone else’s sake.
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Thank you to @rey26, @shyminnie07, @lynnloveshobi, @iggee-rose, @automnepoet, @tiannamortis, @aoirohi, @sarkara211, @jane-3043, @h3110-dar1in9, @h3ll0k1ttyl0ver333, @mimziethealien, @squichymochi, @sharabay, @furblrwurblr, @dork-of-the-universe, @thedevilssinner, @fuckalrighty, @queenofthespacesquids, @perseny, @goldenplutus, @h4nluv, @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer, and @auszimbo for asking to be tagged!!
#astarion ancunin#astarion x reader#astarion x you#astarion ancunin x reader#baldur's gate 3 x reader#aware!astarion#bg3 x reader isekai(?)#bg3 x reader
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The Quiet Ones 2
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.
Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader
Note: don’t ask me why I did this.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.
Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖
You watch as the man looks along the door frame; back and forth, up and down. He knocks again and you flinch. You back up as you push on the door, as if it can make the barrier thicker.
“Come on, baby cakes, I know you’re in there,” he says, “I just brought you a treat. It’s Wednesday... hump day, some call it.”
You step back and hit the table. You squeak and wince away from it, rubbing your forearm where it met the corner. This can’t be happening. He can’t be there. How did he find you?
“London fog, or whatever? It’s the one you like,” he calls, a taunting tinge in his voice.
“Go away,” you force out.
You hear a snort and a softer tap on the wood, “come on, jelly bean, I know you’re a sweet girl. Don’t be like that. It’s a nice gesture so don’t be rude.”
You shake your head and turn, rushing away to grab your phone from your desk. You fumble to unlock it and come back to hover, just a few feet from the door. You can see his shadow underneath, seeping in through the crack.
“I’m...” you gulp dryly, “I’ll call the police.”
“Go ahead,” he sneers as the door shifts. He must be leaning on it.
You don’t say anything else. There’s not point arguing with this man and no point calling the police. They don’t come when your neighbours scream all night long. You just go back to your desk and sit.
You look at the monitor and skim the document, trying to refocus. Where were you? You can’t remember.
“You’re really gonna hang me out to dry?” He raises his voice so you can hear.
You just shake your head and type. He’s not there. The door is locked and you’re all alone. This is your apartment. Your life. It’s Wednesday and you already have your tea. Your tea!
You get up and go to the kitchen to retrieve the lukewarm Earl Grey. Oh well. Just means you don’t need milk. You take it back to your desk.
“It’s the quiet ones you gotta look out for,” the man says as the floor creaks and betrays your movement, “not as nice as they look.”
You stop just at the end of the entryway and look over. His shadow shifts and retreats. You listen to his footsteps recede. You should go over and make sure he’s gone but you’re too afraid to go anywhere near the door. It’s like those recurring dreams where the door is always unlocked and you just can’t twist it back into place.
You stand there for a while before you can make yourself move again. You return to your desk again. You clasp your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking as the screen blurs in your vision.
Should you call the police anyway?
You grab the mouse and swirl it around. You open the notes app and type in last Wednesday’s date.
‘Man approached me at cafe. Grabbed my order. Followed me out and down the street.’
Your hands shake over the keys before you enter that day’s date.
‘Same man appeared at my apartment. Did not let him in. Left after several minutes.’
You check the autosave and click out. You watched too many shows with similar scenarios. There wasn’t much to do but to keep track. The police won’t listen if you have no record. Even then, it’s not likely. This is why you hide from the world. It’s too dangerous.
You bring your last task back up and squint at the handwritten notes scanned crookedly. It’s difficult to fall into your usual process. You’re typically a quick worker but you have to think of every word. You can’t focus past that man’s spectre.
Your nape itches as if he’s still looming right outside your door. As if you might look over and he’ll be standing right there. That thought has you sitting back, recoiling from the computer as you make yourself look at the doorway. Empty.
You get up and approach the entryway. You have to urge yourself forward, “it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay...” you whisper to yourself. You clutch the seams of your pants as you near the door. You turn and stand on your toe. You close one eye and press it to the hole. It's black. You can’t see a thing.
Oh no.
That’s not good.
You get down on your knees and hands and been to see beneath the door. You only see a narrow little shadow. It could be nothing at all.
You sit back on your heels and your heart pounds. You shouldn’t look but you have to. You can’t function no knowing for sure.
You stand and check that the chain is in place. You turn the lock back and slowly twist the handle. You inch it open, a hand flat on the wood, your shoulder braced, ready to push back against any force. You peer around and find the hallways empty.
All except the pink cup at the threshold. Just standing there. Taunting you.
You shut the door, nearly slamming it, and lock it once more. You turn and put your back to it. You exhale and shake out your fingers, the crescents of your nails imprinted in your palm.
He’s gone, but you’re not to certain he won’t be back.
👄
You submit your last task for the day, an hour later than usual. You shouldn’t be this far behind. You didn’t even go to the cafe. You should be sixty minutes in the other direction.
You shut off the computer and stand. The stiff wooden chair always leaves you numb but achy. The cushion you put on the seat doesn’t help very much either. What’s especially agitating is the tension locked between your vertebrae.
That man. You haven’t stopped thinking of him. Not just today, but really all week. Since that first time you saw him. He was easier to deny then, but now... he could just be waiting for you on the other side of those walls.
You shudder and carry your untouched tea into the kitchen and dump it. You hadn’t drank a single sip, you haven’t even eaten. You’re not hungry. Your sick to your stomach.
Restless, riled, and rigid. You don’t know what to do with yourself. Usually, you’d read for a while, or watch TV, those old forgotten 70s shows that other people call boring. Yet you know, you can’t find comfort in any of that.
Even behind closed doors and drawn curtains, you can’t feel safe. The thought of making the phone call flickers again but you know better than that. You’ve peeked through the windows as the sirens flash, watched as the police offered nothing more than dismissals and remonstrances not to waste their time to the woman with the bruised cheekbone. It’s just the same as it was when you were a kid. That makes you still feel like one.
Are you talking yourself out of it because you’re scared or stupid or because it’s the truth? It’s hard to know. You never go out of you way to talk to anyone if you can help it. It’s always of utmost necessity. This might be one of those moments but you’re embarrassed. You don’t want to let anyone into the life and if you call someone, you have to do just that. You have let them in. You can’t.
So you won’t.
You sit on the sofa and cross your arms. You won’t let anyone in and you won’t go out. You’ll stay here. Maybe he’ll think he got the wrong place. Maybe he’ll give up. You can outlast him, right?
👄
There’s a rattle in the window. It keeps you awake. You fixate on it. You blame the knot in your chest on it.
Not on the memory, the persistent chill rolling up and down your spine. It’s the window not him. Not that stranger. He’s gone so why are you still thinking of him.
You keep the lamp on. The darkness is too much. You lay staring at the the refraction circle interspliced with the metal frame on the ceiling. The curve is slightly skewed by the angle. The window rattles again.
You huff. You’ll put a book against it to hold it steady. You go to the shelf on the wall and take the heaviest hardcover you can find. You take it to the window and curl your fingers around the edge of the curtain. It feels like stone. You can’t make yourself move it.
You take a breath and pull it away from the frame but don’t look outside. You lean the book on the frame, pushing it snug until you’re sure. You pause, a glint gleaming off the pane. You let go of the book and stare at the brief spark of light, an odd glare.
You inch close to the frame and peek around. You search the sky, a few stars glimmering through the city haze, the moon in a crescent. You search the silhouette of the city and the flicker comes again, this time directly in your eye. You’re drawn to the movement.
You back up and look down at you rub your eyelid. What was that? The curtain fall back into place but the light pierces through. You follow the odd laserlike beam centered on your chest. You put your hand over the green dot there and it shines on your skin. What the hell?
You dodge out of the way in disbelief and stare at the laser at it hits the wall instead. It’s bold, even in the hue of the lamp. It moves up, then down, side to side, then stops. You hold your breath. This isn’t some strange phenomenon. There’s someone out there, doing this. You know who.
You watch the beam terrified. You’ve only ever seen something like that in movies. It’s more than those little red lights you buy for cats. It’s strong, thick. That’s a target and it had just been right on you.
You rub your chest subconsciously and suddenly, the lightly moves. You watch as it swerves around so fast to make a precise shape. A shape you can’t believe. A shape you must be imagining. It stops, centered again on the wall, then retraces the same figure.
A heart.
That can’t be. It’s not real. Your dreaming.
You close your eyes and cover your ears, bending your legs as your curl your shoulders over your knees. You fall onto your side, balled into a fetal position as you shake your head. It’s a dream! Wake up, wake up, wake up...
👄
The morning rises to a thumping in your temples. You don’t know if it’s the lack off food or sleep. You’re wrought and worn from a night spent hiding from reality.
Water. Your mouth is dry. You’re dehydrated. You haven’t been paying attention to the cues. You haven’t wanted to be in this body.
You unfold yourself and sit up. You stare at the wall. The dot is gone. Is he?
You hang one leg over the edge, then the other. You nearly retract them. Like a child, you could believe in a monster under the bed. You push yourself to your feet and stagger forward.
You nearly fall through the open door into the main room of your apartment. You shuffle forward, rubbing your forehead as a sandy fog clings to your lashes. You stumble into the kitchen and lean on the counter as you fill a glass with water. You gulp until you feel queasy.
You put the glass down and flinch at your own force. You back away and wipe the stray droplets from your fingertips. You turn and teeter back into the front room. You need to get your head on straight, you have a full day of work ahead of you still.
You look towards the front door. You cross your arms protectively. You inch forward and turn to face it. You bring yourself to your toes and lean in. You still can’t see through the peep hole. You stand flat again and frown.
You go back to the kitchen and turn the kettle on. You have instant coffee in the mornings. It’s fast and efficient. No clunky machine or ridiculous press. You just need the boost.
You open the cupboard and take down the box of single packets. You slip one out and count the rest. It’s a newer box. There’s ten left. You look up and consider the bag of minute-oats. If you parse back your typical serving, that can last a little longer. You don’t need sugar in it either, that you can spare. The pasta you can ration as well. The sauce has a shelf-life once open.
You put down the packet and set the box back on the shelf. You leave the cupboard door open and go to the fridge. The eggs won’t expire for two weeks but you only have half a dozen left. The milk will go quicker. The butter... that never runs out very quickly, it hardly matters.
Are you really meting out how to wait out this man? Are you really stooping to this? Your defense is no defense. You’re just going to hunk down and hope he goes away. What else can you do?
You can’t go anywhere. You can’t even see out to make sure he’s not waiting for you. You could order groceries but that means also opening the door. How would you know it wasn’t him knocking?
He’ll get bored. He has to. It’s your only hope.
#the quiet ones#lloyd hansen#dark lloyd hansen#dark!lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series#the gray man
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ALEXITHYMIA CH 3: nightmares, pepto, and fire
Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)
ao3 link ch 1 ch 2 ch 4
Chapter Rating: M (7.9k)
Chapter Summary: Carmy can't run from how he feels anymore. His dreams, his conversations with his coworkers and friends, everything is forcing him to face reality. Upon being pushed to his limits, he will finally have to start to speak the truth.
content tags: wet dreams, repressed carmy (as per usual), self deprecation, mental illness
A/N: Carmy gets a wet dream AND a nightmare this chapter! I'm putting him through the ringer babes… I had a lot of fun with the drama, interactions, and imagery this time. Also fun fact, this is the end of what I refer to as "Act 1" in my notes! Act 1 consists of repressed Carmy to the max, barely even acknowledging his feelings… but that's gonna change after this chapter :) enjoy!
After a torturous day at work, one that makes his limbs feel like lead, Carmy is more than relieved to see the door to his apartment.
Surprisingly, though, it swings open without him even touching it. He's too tired to think twice about it. He steps inside, and the first thing he sees is his roommate. They're dressed exclusively in a black apron, just like they were that other night.
“Hi, Carmy,” they say quietly, and their makeup is messy and dark just like that night they were trashed. He remembers how he felt the first time he saw them like that, because he feels it now. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” he hears himself saying.
They walk up to him, and suddenly, they're on top of him. Their hands press gently against his tense shoulders. His back hits his bed, pillows under his neck.
“You snooped through my stuff, didn't you?” Their hands move behind them to drop their apron, revealing skin, skin, and more skin. It goes on forever.
“Sorry,” he mumbles half-heartedly, distracted by their nakedness.
“Hm. I don't think you're all that sorry, but…that's okay.” They drag their hand down the center of his chest, slowly, teasingly, lovingly. “I wanted you to see.”
A bottle of lube materializes in their hand.
“You did?”
“I did,” they whisper. They uncap the lube with a low pop, and suddenly, their skin is shiny with it. Carmy runs his hand down their chest, squeezing, and it's slippery to the touch. “You wanna see what I like to do with this?”
“Please,” he whispers back, breathless, desperate for it. They smile, and it doesn't quite look like them. Heat circles in his gut nonetheless.
“You're so sweet,” they say quietly. “I love that about you.”
He can't respond, not with the way they're touching him. Not that he can come up with a response to that. The pleasure is like fire under his skin, hot, alive, and painful.
“Don't say that,” he pleads, and it feels so good.
“Why not? It's how I really feel about you.”
Their mouth is on his neck now. He can barely breathe. A part of him worries that there's gonna be lipstick marks he'll have to get off again, but he honestly couldn't care less. He'll go to work covered in lipstick marks if he has to.
“Shut up,” he tries again, but it's even weaker this time.
I'm gonna end up hurting you, he wants to say, but he can't.
“Don't you like how good I can make you feel?” They lean up to seal their lips against his, and smoke fills his mouth. He takes it in like water. The high hits him immediately, along with the spike in pleasure.
“I'm close,” he whispers, bucking against their hand.
“Me too.” They straddle his waist then, a playful look in their eye. “I know just the thing…”
Just as they go to unbutton his jeans, an alarm screams into his ear, and his eyes fly open to see his bedroom ceiling.
Stunned, he slams his hand down to shut up his alarm. He lays there in the silence, slowly processing everything. From the moment he woke up, his heart's been racing.
He moves to sit up, get a sip of water, and that's when he feels how sticky his boxers feel.
“Motherfucker,” he mutters under his breath. He doesn't even have any water on his nightstand, and he just came in his sleep for the first time since highschool. “Shit.”
The shame is too much. He has to sit there for several more minutes in silence before getting himself clean.
There are no words to express the emotion he feels as he changes his boxers and wipes himself down. It's a strange mixture of guilt, shock, and lingering arousal. He needs to make sure he doesn't think about it at work unless he wants to walk around with an obvious bulge in his pants.
You need to head into work so you can stop thinking about it, he tells himself, to which he agrees.
He does his best not to think about it on his way to work, which only garners minimal success. In other words, it's a spectacular failure. It's a miracle he doesn't clock in with a poorly concealed boner, but there are other factors.
For one, his nausea. It crept up on him soon after waking up, and it looks like it's here to stay. It's fine, though, because he's used to his stomach being fucked. His brain is on fire and so is the rest of his body—just as usual. He'll just take some pepto when he gets to work.
Except that when he reaches for it on the bathroom shelf, there is no pepto bottle. That's when he remembers the way he chugged the rest of it the week before. So the nausea remains.
When he arrives, the comments about the lipstick mark being gone is unavoidable. His irritation is also naturally unavoidable. His sour mood does him no favors. However, in a twisted sort of luck, he realizes they're behind on far too many things, and he hones in, focuses on nothing else. Everyone else is too swamped with work to keep up the teasing.
The lunch rush is expectedly awful, especially with the swelling tensions in the kitchen. Everyone gets through it with minimal screaming.
Staying busy is supposed to help. Keeping himself occupied is supposed to help, but the moment the lunch rush ends, the nausea hits him at full blast.
“You look like shit,” Richie kindly tells him. A ‘fuck off’ sits on the tip of Carmy's tongue, but so does the feeling of bile, rising in his throat. “Wow, you really are sick, aren't you?” He remarks at Carmy's lack of response.
In as little words as possible, Carmy relays to everyone he'll be in his office.
He keeps the lights off and the door cracked as he falls back onto his chair. The world around him seems to settle like sand. It's been a while since he's dealt with nausea this bad. He counts that as a blessing in itself.
The darkness and the quiet is nice. It relaxes his body. On the flipside, though, there's no noise to overpower the thoughts he's running from.
He closes his eyes, and he sees imprints of his dream. He feels their mouth on his neck, their voice in his ear, their hand on his—
Carmy slaps a hand on his forehead. Then, he sighs, dragging it slowly down his face. His stomach twists inward into itself.
He thinks about seeing his reflection in the mirror last night. His skin was free from the lipstick mark that everyone was relentlessly teasing him about. And yet, he was struck with a profound sense of disappointment.
You liked seeing it there, a voice somewhere hidden in him whispers.
Carmy really feels like throwing up now.
He settles in the darkness for a while longer until a notification lights up his screen, briefly illuminating the room with a low white light.
His first instinct is to groan and flip his phone face down, which he follows about halfway through until he sees the contact name.
The text message is from the person haunting his dreams and his waking life.
- hey thinking abt cooking chicken and rice tonite or something. u want some??
Just when he was able to get a break from thinking about them. Just like that, they're orbiting his brain again.
Visions of them jacking him off aside, he's unsure what to say. He doubts he's gonna be able to get anything down today. This isn't the first time something like this has happened on his end.
> maybe tmrw, stomach is fucked today. ill take leftovers if u make some
- oh no :( feel better man. u got medicine?
> no but its ok, ill take some after work
- but thats so far away!
He can't help but smile, even if looking at the screen isn’t making his nausea any better.
> ill be ok. ill make it
He’ll make it because he has to. No one else is gonna run the place for him. That’s a part of what makes him stand up, take in a breath, and return to the kitchen. The other part is the familiar distant sound of arguing. He slips his phone in his back pocket, stands up, and gets back to work. No matter how begrudgingly it may be.
A number of problems quickly make themselves clear to him. First, the toilet’s busted again. Two, the plumber won’t be here for another three days. Three, the cash register isn’t working. Four, the meat order got delayed. Carmy doesn’t even wanna start worrying about that last one yet with how awful it’s gonna be.
“When is Fak gonna get here?” Carmy asks Richie. They’re stationed at the front, taking the lack of customers while they can.
“He said he'd be here soon.” Richie's fucking with the aforementioned cash register. Carmy’s leaning against the counter, watching him aggressively jam receipt paper into the machine out of the corner of his eye. It's refusing to print receipts again. “He said to tell you to not get your hopes up. He's not a plumber.”
“I know, but he's got the best chance of fixing the thing.”
“I'm telling ya, if you just let me fuck around with it—”
“You don't know how to fix a toilet by watching youtube tutorials,” Carmy mutters.
“So you wanna have to keep going across the street to take a piss?”
“Cousin—this is my restaurant, not your goddamn apartment—”
“Alright, then be my fuckin’ guest—”
He's so in the middle of arguing that he doesn't even hear the bell on the door ring when it opens.
“Look, Fak's gonna be here in a couple minutes,” Carmy says, pinching his eyebrows together, “and then you can fight it out like alphas or whatever the fuck you were saying. Okay? God—”
When he straightens up, pushing himself off the counter and turning back towards the front, the last person he expected to see stands right in front of him.
They've got this bashful smile on their face, and their cheeks are flushed from the cold. Their hair sticks out from their beanie in a way that Carmy insists is not cute at all. Not one bit, not even the way it's messy when they yank it off.
He also insists to himself that the color on their cheeks doesn't remind him of his dream. Not at all. Not even a little bit. No way. No matter how much the visuals are rampaging in his brain.
“I was sorta worried I wasn't in the right place,” they admit.
“What're you doing here?” Carmy blurts out, even though he immediately recognizes it for how rude it is.
“Uh—” Nerves flash across their face. They hold up a little paper bag. “Sorry for just showing up, I just wanted to bring you some things.”
“No—don't apologize, I shouldn't have just…” He trails off, unable to find the words. He studies the bag in their hand. “Sorry. What did you bring?” He asks, softer this time.
“I know this might be a bit much,” they clarify nervously. They walk up the counter and set the bag down before him. “It's just, you were saying that you weren't feeling well, and I was in the area doing some shopping…”
Carmy reaches inside and pulls out several things. The items reveal themselves to be a small, green bottle of papaya pills, a little bag of ginger candies, and most importantly, a bottle of bubblegum pink pepto bismol.
As he stares at the items, a tiny flower blossoms in his chest.
“You really didn't have to get all this,” he says softly after a beat of silence. He stares at the items for a moment longer before looking up at them. There's an odd feeling in his chest.
“I wanted to. Seriously.” They still look oddly bashful, and it's captivating. “I mean, you helped me out a ton the other night, so…”
“You didn't owe me anything.”
“Then consider it a gift.” Their smile so effortlessly dazzles him. “Unless I can't give you gifts?”
“Yeah—I mean, no, you—” Carmy fails to stifle a quiet laugh at how ridiculous he sounds. They so easily fluster him. “Thank you,” he says finally, remembering himself. “This is…really nice.”
“I hope it helps,” they reply, and he tells himself the color on their cheeks is still from the cold. He tells himself that they're the one that looked into his eyes first, so it's okay for him to look back. “If you end up not liking it or needing it, though, it’s fine. Do whatever you want with it.”
“No, I appreciate it. Thank you,” he says again.
They're beautiful, he thinks all of a sudden, and the thought is so potent he can't hide from it for a single second. His anxiety tells him that they're gonna hear his thoughts if he keeps thinking so loudly. The bliss of tracing his eyes over their features is worth it. He's not sure if he feels any less nauseous, staring at their darling face like this, but he can't deny he likes the way this feels. His chest aches.
Then, the obnoxious noise of someone clearing their throat reminds him that they're not alone.
“Cousin.” Carmy's head whips around. How could he forget that Richie was right there? It's incredible how silent Richie could be when he wants to. “You gonna introduce us?”
“Shit, right, uh—” Carmy fumbles, making a hand motion with no words to match. “This is my cousin Richie. And Richie, this is, uh, my roommate.”
Oh, how he's dreaded saying those words for reasons he will see in just a matter of seconds.
“So you're the roommate!” Richie makes a big show of it, eyebrows raised in dramatic shock.
“Yeah, that's me.” They shrug. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. Can't believe you're roomin’ with this guy,” Richie says, slapping a hand on Carmy's shoulder. It is promptly shoved off. “Carmen's not an easy guy to be around, I know.”
“Oh, not at all! He's a great roommate.” Carmy feels the tips of his ears growing warm.
“Really?” Richie gives him a skeptical look. “Who would've guessed.”
“Fuck off,” Carmy snaps, but the way he mumbles makes it lack any intensity.
They don’t stay for long. Something about needing to run some more errands. A part of Carmy wants to keep them there somehow, although there’s no logical reason for that. If anything, the faster they’re out, the better. It gives Richie less time to say something scathing that ruins their perception of Carmy.
Not that you need any help fucking yourself over, Carmy thinks to himself distantly.
“Well, I hope the stuff helps.” They readjust their beanie on their head, pulling it over their ears. “I’ll see you at home?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you,” he replies. “Thanks again.”
“No problem. Bye!”
They wave to him and Richie as they leave. As soon as the bell above the door rings and they’re out of sight, Carmy feels Richie’s eyes on him.
Actually, he feels a number of eyes on him.
He turns around to see his fellow chefs peeking over the deli counter, standing in a row like a line of matryoshka dolls. They freeze when they see him, but they don’t make any move to run away. Absolutely remorseless.
“Back to your stations, chefs,” Carmy scolds them, but his meak words are quickly overtaken by noise.
“If the two of you aren’t dating, then what the fuck is this?” Richie picks up the paper bag full of medicine. “That was some sappy shit the two of you were pulling!”
“The two of you? What the fuck did I do?” Carmy spits back.
“What the fuck did I do,” Richie imitates, rolling his eyes. “Fuckin’ goo-goo eyes over here wants to know what the fuck he was doing.” Carmy snatches the bag out of his hand.
“You were makin’ goo-goo eyes at them,” Marcus agrees. His elbows are propped up on the glass counter.
“And if they’re bringing you medicine, it’s serious,” Tina adds with a sly grin.
“There’s nothing to be serious about,” Carmy insists. He feels like a broken record. “We’re just friends.”
“Friends that kiss each other,” Sydney comments. “Right. Of course.”
“We don’t—I’ve never—” He’s a tea kettle, and the lid on him is starting to rattle. “Chefs—”
“Cousin, loosen up already. Why you always gotta make shit so serious?” Richie throws an arm around his shoulder, but Carmy shoves it off.
“Because this shit is none of your fuckin’ business. That goes for all of you!” Carmy whips around, gesturing accusingly with his hand at the line of chefs. “Get back to work! Now!”
A sad chorus of “Yes, chef” resounds, and everyone despondently trickles back to their stations. All except for Richie, who is not a chef.
“They’re obviously into you,” Richie tries, and Carmy’s glare could burn two perfect circles into his face.
“Drop it,” he hisses.
“Why’re you always like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like a little bitch? You’re a pussy, Carmen. That’s what you are. A pussy—”
“You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”
“No. Y’know what? I actually do have a clue, because I know you, Berzatto. You act like all that shit’s above you, but it’s not. And I’m tryin’ to do you a favor—”
“A favor? What fucking favor?”
“I’m trying to help you get a fucking clue! That’s what! Because you’re too dense to see what’s right in front of you!”
“Richie, I happen to be doing just fine without your help. I don’t need whatever the fuck you think helping me is!”
“Then explain this to me. Explain this little thing to me, Carmen fucking Berzatto. You and Claire—”
“Richie. Don’t.”
“That could’ve been a good thing. A great thing. The two of you—”
“I told you—”
“You were obviously into each other, and yet—”
“Shut the fuck up, you piece of shit!”
There’s a rage threatening to spew out of him, lava coursing under his skin and in his head. Richie’s looking at him like he knows he’s right, but he’s not. He’s not right about Carmy. He’s not right about anything. Not about any of this.
“Fak is on the scene! What is up, guys?”
With comedic (or arguably tragic) timing, Fak bursts through the front door with his heavy tool bag on one hand. Carmy and Richie’s heads both snap to him when he arrives. Fak freezes in his steps.
“Fak,” Carmy says.
“Finally,” Richie mutters. “Slow ass.”
“Uh…I’m getting the impression I shouldn’t be here right now. Should I be here right now?” Fak takes a step back towards the door.
“Yes, I really need you to look at the toilet,” Carmy says. Richie is uncharacteristically quiet, but Carmy can’t stand to look at him.
“If you say so.” Fak shrugs. “What’s the damage?”
“Mild to severe, depending on how you look at it,” is Carmy’s dry response.
The rest of the day, Carmy operates on autopilot. When he finally remembers to open the bottle of pepto, nausea surges in him at the sight of it. He manages to force it down. Miraculously, the toilet gets fixed, and even more miraculously, no one mentions the roommate again. Not even Richie. Although Carmy does sense how badly he wants to bring it up again.
His stomach continues its incessant rampage throughout the rest of the day. Despite improving since the pepto, it’s still generally upset. This nausea leads him back to his care package again and again throughout the rest of the day.
The ginger candies have a sharp flavor, maybe even a bit too much, but the sharpness grounds him. It also does admittedly dim the nausea. He wonders why he’s never bothered to keep him on his person.
“Chef?” Carmy’s cleaning his station when he hears Syd next to him. It could only be her, anyway—the sun has set, and everyone else has gone home for the day. He perks his head up to see her concerned expression.
“Chef,” he acknowledges back. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she says quickly. “Nothing wrong with me, I mean. I was actually wondering if, uh, you were okay?”
“Me?” The question surprises him. “Uh, yeah. I’m okay. Stomach’s better, so…”
“Oh, good.” She nods. “Stuff your roommate gave you working?”
“Yeah. It is.” He rolls the candy around on his tongue. “Hand me my knife?”
“Yeah.” She slides it over to him. “And, uh, I just wanted to say—I don’t mean to be nosy. I really don’t. Earlier, everyone was just gathered over the counter, and—”
“It’s fine.”
“I just wanted to see what the commotion was about—”
“Really, it’s fine,” he repeats, firmly. “They’re just like that, anyway.”
“I—Okay. Okay.” She exhales. “It’s just—y’know. I don’t wanna be an ass. I just…”
“You weren’t. You’re not.”
“I’m just…wondering about one thing.”
“...Yeah?”
“Why have you never invited them to family?”
“Family?” This question surprises him even more than the last. “Well, family’s for…family. Just the workers.”
“I mean, yeah. But, like, sometimes it’s not, right? Like, you let Marcus’ roommate come last week.”
“Marcus was on family anyway.”
“Sure. Right. You let me bring my friend recently, though.”
“You wanted to show her where you worked, didn’t you?”
“And Fak has family with us almost, like, all the time.”
“Fak is Fak,” Carmy reasons, and Sydney can’t argue with that.
“I don’t mean to be an ass,” she repeats. “I’m just curious.”
Right, he thinks. She asked a question. Why have I never brought them to family?
He’s never even considered it before. Bringing them to family. It’s not a habit to bring outsiders in, for lack of better wording, but it’s not necessarily off-limits, either. He doesn’t actually mind when others bring people in. He trusts them not to bring in anyone stupid. Mostly. As for himself…
He’s never had anyone in his life to bring before. Ever.
“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I guess I just never thought about it.”
“Huh.”
“Wouldn’t it be…weird?”
“Why would it be weird?”
“I don’t know,” he says again, “I just…I just thought…” He sighs. “I didn’t wanna deal with Richie, but…”
“Little too late for that,” Sydney notes in amusement.
“Little too late,” he echoes.
“Well. I was just curious. Sorry if that was weird.”
“Why would it be weird?” He jokes, imitating her from earlier.
“Shut up,” she shoots back with a grin. “You know what I mean.”
“It’s fine. It’s not weird.” He pauses for a moment, thinking about Richie. “Everyone else is an ass about it. Not you, though.”
“I try.” She grins. “I…I think everyone just gets excited because…it’s different. Seeing you with someone else like that.”
“Mm.” Carmy nods, and then pauses again. Lets it sink in. “Do I…” I shouldn’t ask this, he thinks, but he’s already started. It’s too late. “...Do I act differently?”
“Around them? Yeah. A little.”
“...” Carmy straightens up, taking a step back from his station. This is starting to feel weird. Really weird. “I do?”
“Kinda. You just seem…calmer, I think.” Sydney’s expression seems uncomfortable. “I dunno.”
“No, it’s fine. It was a dumb thing to ask.” Carmy’s making the executive decision to stop talking about this. “I gotta stay and sort through some stuff in the office, but you should head out for the night.”
“What, can’t afford to pay me overtime?” Sydney teases. Carmy rolls his eyes.
“Partially,” he jokes back, although it’s not much of a joke.
Nevertheless, it is almost 10 pm, so Sydney does indeed head out for the night. The whole place is eerily silent without anyone else there. There’s the sound of the rattling AC unit, noisy plumbing, and passing cars, but there’s a distinct lack of sizzling pans, knives against cutting boards, and shouting. It just feels strange, is all.
Carmy barely remembers to replace the bottle of pepto in the bathroom before heading out. He puts the new bottle there on the shelf, and as he stares at it standing there, he considers putting other gifts there too.
He returns to his office where the small bag of ginger candies and bottle of papaya pills sits. They’re seated on the corner of his desk. He goes to grab them, but for some reason, he doesn’t. They look like they belong there.
Then consider it a gift, he remembers them saying earlier. Unless I can’t give you gifts? If you end up not liking it or needing it, though, it’s fine. Do whatever you want with it, he hears them saying again.
A certain possessiveness grips him then.
It was a gift, he tells himself. For me. No one else.
He decides to leave the candies and pills on his desk. Those will be just for him.
When he finally gets home, it’s almost 12 am. He does his best to open the door carefully, but it’s as squeaky as ever.
He’s greeted with a surprising, although not unusual sight. His roommate is curled up into a sleep ball on the couch, snuggled into the pillows and blankets. The tv is playing some youtube video essay about lost media from the early 2000s. All the lights in the apartment are off, leaving the only source of illumination to be the tv screen.
Carmy carefully moves to turn the tv off. After he does, he turns to see if he’s woken them up. He hasn’t. They’re still in deep sleep. Very deep sleep, rather, with how they’re lightly snoring.
That familiar ache he gets in his chest when he sees them makes itself known. It’s the ache that pulls him in, forcing him to sit on the floor next to the couch. It’s something beyond his will that makes him gaze at their peacefully sleeping face.
His eyes trace their features like he was earlier when they stopped by The Beef, except this time, much more unabashedly. He takes note of the faint blemishes on their cheeks, the loose strands of hair in their face. The squish of their cheek against the pillows.
Cute, he thinks to himself, not for the first time, and he’s too tired to push the feeling away.
You’re different around them, he hears Sydney saying. Calmer.
I don’t know about that, he thinks. He absentmindedly brings a hand to brush their loose hairs out of their face. I don’t know how I feel when I’m around you.
A part of him wonders if he should wake them up. The part of him that wins is the part that doesn’t want to disturb the peaceful look on their face. He wouldn’t want to upset them.
He trudges into his bed instead, flopping wearily onto his mattress. It’s been a taxing day, right down to the moment he woke up this morning. His mind and body were both in shambles, and now, he’s exhausted.
As he falls asleep, he distantly hopes for a dreamless night.
. . . . .
“Where’s the olive oil? The pan’s heated. I need to start cooking the beef.”
Carmy stands before a pristine stainless steel pan. Next to him on the counter sits stuffed beef carefully wrapped in twine—beef braciole.
“Guys,” he repeats, annoyed. “Guys, have you seen the olive oil?”
He turns to see Michael and his roommate sitting at a kitchen island. They’re both opening cans of San Marzano tomatoes, although it’s definitely not a two person job.
“We haven’t seen it, Carmen,” Michael says. “Anyway, like I was saying—you should’ve seen his face. Really! When I told him I couldn’t work at the restaurant, it’s like I told him our dog died or something.”
“What I wouldn’t give to see that,” his roommate remarks, snickering and shaking their head. “Such a baby.”
Next to them, Carmy spots the bottle of olive oil. With a scowl, he snatches it.
“Hurry up on those tomatoes, guys, I’m gonna need it real soon,” he reminds them, irritation growing.
With the bottom of the pan coated in olive oil, he carefully places the beef into the pan. The sizzle is strangely whistle-like and high pitched. He inhales, searching for the smell of cooking meat and garlic, but he can’t seem to smell anything at all.
“Did he cry?” They ask.
“No, but he looked like he was going to,” Michael sneers, and the two of them are laughing again.
“You wouldn’t wanna work with a guy like Carmy, anyway.”
“Exactly. Exactly. He doesn’t really get it, y’know. How much of a colossal fuck-up he is. I can see it in him, though. I didn’t have the heart to tell him then.”
“That’s okay. I don’t blame you. He probably wouldn’t have been able to handle it.”
“He has no idea! And he thinks he’s fooling everyone so well, but the thing is—”
“He’s not.”
“He’s not! He’s really not.”
“Chefs, I need the tomato puree. Hand it over,” Carmy interrupts abruptly. When there’s no response, he turns around. They haven’t even opened one can of tomatoes yet. “Are you two fucking serious?”
They look at him, eyes wide, and then they’re laughing so hard they’re crying. They’re doubled over the counter, cackling and kicking their feet.
“You’re too easy to fuck with, Carmen,” Michael gets out between chuckles. “You’ve always been like that.”
Carmy ignores him and reaches for a can of tomatoes.
“Give me the fucking can opener,” Carmy snaps.
“Oh, you won’t need it,” his roommate answers.
As soon as Carmy grabs a can, it explodes in his face.
Puréed San Marzano tomatoes fill his hand and drip from his hair into his eyes. He steps back, staggered from the red explosion. Somehow it got all over him and not on anything else.
“Fucking shit!” He wipes his eyes, and that’s when he remembers the beef. He rushes back to the pan. It needs tomato purée now. He lets the splattered tomato drip from his hands into the pan, filling it with sauce. It sizzles and smells like smoke.
“I could always see you for who you really were, y’know. I always knew,” Michael goes on. “I could always see it.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Carmy snaps. The growing anxiety in his stomach is tightening his body and ejecting the words out. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”
“He’s saying that you’re just not a good person. That’s all,” his roommate reasons. Carmy tries to keep his eyes focused on the beef, hastily spooning tomato over it. The pan’s still filling with puree. It’s overflowing. “You’re just the sort of person who will never change. Once broken, always broken, y’know what I mean?”
“If you’re not going to help, then fucking leave!” Carmy snaps, finally. He whirls around and wipes all the cans onto the floor. They explode in glorious unison, staining the floors red. “Just get out and stop getting in my fucking way!”
“But you don’t want me to leave, do you?”
“I don’t care what you do, I just need to finish this—“
“No, you care. You care if I like or hate you. You care if I stay or leave. You care about me, Carmy. You really care about me.”
“I don’t fucking care about you. I never have, and I never will.”
The beef’s burning on the pan. It’s all burning.
“Oh, Carmy…” Their arms are wrapped around his torso, squeezing him in a gentle hug. “It’s too late for you to say that sort of thing. Not anymore.”
All of a sudden, there’s a gush of wetness that soaks through his shirt. He pulls back, and their mouth is oozing tomato puree. In an instant, Carmy knows they’re dying.
“Fuck,” Carmy curses. “Fuck!”
“This is what happens,” they say, gargling through mouthfuls of puree.
“Why?” He asks.
“Because it’s you,” they answer, and Carmy wakes up.
He wakes up stumbling back from the stove by someone pulling on his shirt. The stove has pots and pans filled with flaming frozen food. He can feel the blazing heat against his skin. The orange flames are flicking off the steel pans and arch towards the ceiling, reaching. As Carmy stumbles back, he falls to the floor, barely managing to steady himself with the palms of his hands.
There’s the familiar sound of the fire extinguisher, spraying out into the base of the fire. Propped up on his elbows, Carmy watches the fire shrink with a thumping heart. His heartbeat marches in time with the tune of the fire alarm, piercing and high-pitched throughout the apartment.
Carmy finally takes notes of his roommate, looking about as distressed as someone who just woke up to a fire in their own home. Their hair sticks up in several different directions as if they just woke up, which they…probably did. With a displeased grunt, they march over to the window to slam it open. The cloudy smoke compacted near the ceiling begins to trickle out.
“Fucking hell,” they mutter under their breath, coughing from the smoke. They turn around to look at Carmy, expression twisted with stress. “Dude. What was that?”
“I,” Carmy starts, but the words just won’t come. He tries to move to get up, but his legs aren’t moving.
“Carmy. Hey.” They lean down next to him, staring him in the eyes. He still doesn’t respond. “Carmen!” They snap, and he jolts.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he gets out. They help him up, wrapping his hand in theirs and yanking him upwards.
“We should step outside while the smoke clears.” They cough as they move to grab their coat.
“It’ll be fine, it’ll be gone in a couple minutes,” Carmy hears himself saying. He’s met with a blank stare.
“So this has happened to you before?” They open their mouth, as if they’re about to say something else, but they shake their head. “No, we’re not staying in here. We may smoke everyday, but this isn’t good for us. C’mon.”
He doesn’t quite feel his body moving as he grabs his wool jacket. He doesn’t feel it as he walks down the stairs, not even when he steps outside and the chilled night air whips at his face. He feels far, far away.
After leaving the awful song of the fire alarm, the quiet of the night is uncharacteristically loud. If he listens closely, though, he can pick out the sound of their fire alarm, distantly ringing. Or maybe that’s just his tinnitus.
The clicking sound of a lighter is what recenters him. He looks to his side to see them shakily holding a lighter up to their cigarette. After a couple more sparks, the flame lights.
They take a slow pull of it before wordlessly handing it to him. An olive branch of sorts. He takes it. They let the pool of smoke sit in their mouth, and then they exhale with a heavy, heavy sigh.
“What happened back there, man?” They ask quietly. “That was…” They sigh again. “That scared the shit out of me,” they whisper, and that’s what makes it all finally settle in.
Fuck, Carmy realizes with a pang. The realization starts in the pit of his stomach and drops lower and lower. Feeling returns to his body, and he feels cold inside and out. I really fucked up.
He can just imagine it—him, dead on his feet, sleepwalking into the kitchen. Grabbing the frozen food out of the freezer and turning the stove on high. Cooking nonsensically with plastic-wrapped chicken breasts and frozen peas. Too fucking asleep to stop the fire from starting, to stop the fire alarm that woke up his sleeping roommate on the couch.
“I used to sleepwalk, sometimes. When I was at culinary school,” he clarifies nervously. Shame douses him, coating him evenly like oil on a pan. “Or, sleepcook, I guess.”
He passes the cigarette back to them. They take it.
“Shit,” they mutter. “Never heard of anyone doin’ that before.”
“...Yeah. Me neither.”
The two of them are silent for a while before they speak again.
“Carmy—why didn’t you tell me? That you—” They laugh dryly, full of irritation. He doesn’t like seeing anger on their face, hearing it in their voice. He doesn’t know if he’s ever heard them sound like this before. “That you’re prone to cooking in your sleep? Don’t you think that’s something I should know? As your roommate?”
“I—I didn’t mean to hide it,” he protests, even though he did.
“We could’ve really gotten hurt, y’know.”
“You’re right, I know, it’s just—it hadn’t happened in so long, so I just thought that I had, that I was…”
I thought I was getting better, he wants to say, but it’s stuck in his throat. It won’t come out. As per usual, he can’t get the words out.
It always stays the same.
“...” Strangely enough, their face softens. “Must’ve been scary the first time.”
“What?” He wasn’t expecting their anger to dissipate so easily.
“The first time you caught yourself cooking your sleep. Were they all like this? With the fire and stuff?”
“Yeah. All the fire and stuff,” he confirms bitterly. A beat of silence. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. You shouldn’t have had to…put out a fire I made.”
“It’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay you almost burned our place down, but…” The end of the cigarette sizzles, bright and orange as they inhale. “It’s not like you did it on purpose, did you?”
“Of course not,” he rushes to say, “I would never—”
“I’m just kidding with you,” they laugh. They exchange the cigarette again. “I know you didn’t.”
Impossible, Carmy thinks all of a sudden. The nicotine usually calms him, except not today. Not right now. This is impossible.
“I thought you were mad at me,” Carmy blurts out. He can’t compute seeing a smile on their face right now.
“I am,” they say calmly.
“Then why? Why are you—” There’s static in his head, fuzz filling his mouth. “Why aren’t you—you should be—fucking, I don’t know—why aren’t you yelling?”
“Do you want me to be shouting at you?”
“No! I don’t want that, I just—I just don’t understand.” There’s blood rushing in his ears. “I fucked up, so just—just get it over with already!”
“I—get what over with?”
“Just tell me that I’m a worthless piece of shit and that you were wrong for ever seeing anything good in me,” he spits out. His eyes feel hot. He doesn’t know where all these words are coming from. “I know you want to say it, so just get it over with. Please.”
A moment of silence, broken by the drive by of a car.
“...Is that really how you think I see you?”
“How could you not?” He laughs bitterly, shakes his head. Images of Michael flash in his head. “I’ve just somehow managed to convince you that I’m worth your time. I don’t know how, but…” Frustration surges inside of him. “But now you know,” he says, finally.
So this is how it ends, he thinks to himself. I knew it couldn’t last. Nothing ever lasts.
We’ll call it The Bear, he hears himself saying. Michael and him at Christmas. The drawing he made of the restaurant.
Michael’s dead, he hears Sugar sobbing over the phone. Her voice is crackly and broken through the speakers. Please come home. Please.
You didn’t even show up for your brother fuckin’ funeral, he hears Richie screaming. Your own fucking brother, Carmen! What the ever living fuck is wrong with you?
This is great, Carmy, Michael says softly to him, the gifted drawing of their restaurant in his hands. The house is on fire. There's so much fire. Thank you.
They don’t say anything for a while, opting to instead smoke their cigarette and stare distantly across the street. When they finally turn to look at him, their gaze pierces him. It’s that look that strips him bare, lays his soul out open for them to pick apart.
“You’re allowed to mess up on onions,” they say.
“...What?” Is all he can think to reply.
“When I was drunk, you told me about how you dropped some onions.”
“No, I remember, I just—why are you saying that now?”
“Because this fire is the same.” They tap the ash off their cigarette, the gray dust shattering in the wind. “People make mistakes, Carmy. It’s okay.”
“This is a lot worse than spilling some onions,” he reasons weakly. They just shrug.
“Objectively speaking, sure. I can’t deny that. But that’s not really what I’m trying to say…” They hesitate. “Can I speak plainly?”
“Please,” Carmy begs.
Two cars whiz by before they speak again.
“I can’t change how you see yourself,” they start. “I’m the same way. I think almost everyone is. I know I can’t make you less hard on yourself. If anything, that’s part of what made you into such an incredible chef.” They exhale shakily. “But this…with me…I don’t want it to push me away.”
“...I don’t want you to get hurt,” he confesses, messily. This isn’t like him, but he can’t seem to stop talking. I care about you too much, he thinks painfully.
“It’s impossible to go through life without hurting others. Look—I consider you a friend, Carmy. A good friend. And I thought you felt the same, but…”
“I do,” he interrupts urgently. “You’re one of the closest friends I have,” he confesses, and their smile is beautiful.
…I didn’t mean to say all that, he thinks, startled by himself. That was supposed to be, “I think of you as a friend, too.”
“Then fuck up some onions. You don’t have to be a perfect person. No one can be, and I don’t want you to be. Besides—I’m not stupid. You’re not tricking me about anything. I’m pretty good at making sound judgments of people.”
“I didn’t mean to insinuate that you were stupid,” he says quietly.
“I know you didn’t.” They keep being gentle, so gentle.
“I…I’m not used to this,” he admits, finally. He needs to be honest with them, regardless if saying the truth is like coughing up glass. “You're a good person. Really good. More than I'm used to, to be honest. I think…I think a part of me doesn't wanna believe it.”
“Oh.” Their pink cheeks could very well be from the cold, or from something else. “I—well. Thank you. That's nice to hear. But, ah, do you think I have some dark alter ego or something?”
“No, not like that. It’s just—there’s always another shoe, isn’t there?”
“Another shoe…” They hum. “Yeah. Unless there isn’t.”
“That’d be a first,” he says, and they laugh.
“True enough.” The distant sound of the train. “I'm not a perfect person, Carmy.”
“I know. I don't expect that.”
“Then stop expecting it from yourself.”
“...” He blinks, staggered by their bluntness. A million arguments begin and die on the tip of his tongue, but all of them feel as cheap as the last. He knows they're right, and there's not much room for argument there. “I'll try,” he says finally with a nod. It's all he can say.
“I say it like it's an easy thing to do. I know it's not.” Their smile is knowing, rueful. “I certainly haven't gotten over it myself.”
“You also…?” The implication lays silent in the air. They nod. “I’m sorry for starting a fire,” he apologizes again, because he feels like he has to. “And for…freaking out.”
“You are forgiven. But you don’t need to apologize for, like, having emotions. That’s fucked up.” They let out an abrupt bark of a laugh, and it makes him laugh, too. “Is it, like, a stress thing? The sleepcooking?”
You’re worthless, he suddenly hears a familiar voice saying. The head chef. You’d be better off dead. You don't deserve any of this.
“Usually,” he says simply. “I can’t really…predict when it’s gonna happen, though.”
“Unfortunate. I guess it’d be too easy if you could see it coming.” They put out their cigarette on the back of their lighter, flicking off the ash. “How are you doing now?”
“I’m fine,” he responds instantly, all on instinct. “I’m…better,” he amends, and they look happy with that. “I should be asking you that. Are you alright?”
“Not gonna lie, it was pretty scary, but I’m okay. I can look back at it as a bonding experience.”
“A bonding experience,” Carmy mutters, half out of amusement and half out of disbelief. “I guess you’re not totally wrong.”
“Nobody got hurt, right? And next time, I'll be ready.”
“There shouldn't be a next time.”
“No, I suppose not. But there might be, and that's okay.”
“But—“ He stops. “I'm sorry.”
“I know.” They pat his back.
“Do you wanna come to family tomorrow?” He blurts out.
“Huh?” They say, which is a pretty reasonable response. “I mean, probably. What is it?”
“Right, sorry. It's, uh, a thing we do everyday at work. One of the chefs cooks dinner for everyone, and we eat together. It's a way to, ah…have everyone get along, I guess.”
“Oh, cool!”
“And I'll be the one cooking tomorrow,” he adds hastily. God, why is this so embarrassing? “So. Yeah. If you wanna come, then…”
“You mean I get to have your cooking? Of course I wanna come,” they reply, their expression brightening. Carmy's stomach twists inward, giddy. “Oh my god, yeah. As long as it's not weird that I'm there?”
“Not weird,” he promises. “We bring people all the time. Not too many, of course.”
Except for me, he thinks. I barely even eat family enough as it is, let alone ever bringing everyone. You're the only one.
“Okay. Okay!” They make a pleased noise, stepping excitedly in place. “Then I accept. What time should I come?”
“We eat before opening, so come in around 2. The door should be open.”
“Sounds good.” They stop then, fixing him with a puzzled, amused look. “You're not just doing this because of what just happened, are you? Although I guess it'd be cool if you were—”
“I'm not, I'm not. I just…wanted to.” He's not being very convincing. To be fair, it's only half of a lie. “But I will. Make this up to you, I mean.”
“I'm just teasing. You don’t have to, but I won’t stop you. And…thanks for inviting me, I'm looking forward to it.” They yawn suddenly, eyes scrunching shut. “Think we're good to head back in now?”
“Probably, yeah.” He checks his phone. It's 1 AM. “Sorry for keeping you up.”
“It's fine, really. Besides, I did this to you the other night. And, uh—Carmy?”
“...Yeah?”
“I'm really glad you think of me as a friend,” they say, and it sounds like a confession. “I feel super lucky to have a roommate that I can call my friend, too. I…just wanted to say that.
There are countless unspoken sentiments that Carmy wishes he had the courage, the faith to say. I didn't know how important you were going to become to me, for instance. I don't know if I can go without your company anymore. I’m not sure if I've ever liked someone so much, and that terrifies me. I never wanted to admit how much I like you.
It's too much, far too much to say aloud, but at least, finally, he can admit it to himself.
It does not always have to stay the same.
“I feel really lucky, too,” Carmy says instead, and the words come easy, easier than they ever have before.
~
@zorrasucia
#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto#the bear#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#the bear fx#others#carmy x reader#carmen x reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x you#the bear fanfiction#the bear hulu#my writing#my fics#i had this ready for the past week and i just kept forgetting to post it. that happens when u have a job lmfao#anywayyyy like i said its the end of act 1!!! carmy is gonna be happier and more open with them from here on out... at least he's gonna try#slow progress is still progress! THE SLOW BURN IS SLOW BURNING ALL OVER THE PLACE#rly excited to play arnd with these guys more... any thoughts are appreciated + thanks SO MUCH for the kind words and reads so far!!#Alexithymia fic
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To get away.
Chapter one; out of the woods.
(Player is farore reincarnate au)
Part 2, part 3, part 3.5
A/n:(in the fashion Of that old disney blue-Ray commercial)here we goooooo! Please lmk what you think. Reader uses she/her pronouns per the poll winnings.
Warnings:feelings of dread. Talk of anxiety.
12:22 am. Swapping through the same four apps, you felt stuck in the dreaded reality you lived in. Sure, your life wasn’t bad by most means, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a looming, general sense of malaise and doom that hung over you like an ugly tapestry of unease. You hated this feeling with everything in you. It made you want to scream and run, despite not knowing what exactly it was you were running from. You supposed that was that old “fight or flight” reaction everyone talked about. You always figured that was reserved for extreme situations like a kidnapping or mugging or that sort of thing, not your usual run of the mill anxiety. Yet, here you sit with your thoughts and music playing in your ears to try to drown them out. And though the effort was valiant, it was no match for the ever-trumping anxiety and need to leave. You went to sleep that night figuring it was just another normal bad night. You prayed to who or whatever would hear for a way out. You had no idea you’d be answered.
You woke to the sun shining in your face and birds chirping awfully loud. It was odd, considering the sun was never this bright in your room and you could never hear the morning birds so clearly before. Then, something blocked the sun from reaching your face. When you opened your eyes and put your hand up to block the remainder of blinding sun from your vision, a boy faded into view. Bright blonde hair, blue shirt with a lobster, and a confused grin.
“You alright, lady???”
“What?” You respond, confused. You knew who this was. You figured it to be a dream.
“I asked if You’re Alright! We found you just laying here!” Who you knew to be the hero of the winds said and helped you sit up.
“No noticeable wounds, so that’s good.” A man knelt by you. His hair was roughly the same color, but a bit lighter. He had strange markings on his face, which you knew to be from the fierce deity mask. This was the hero of time. “Do you remember how you got here?”
“Anything you could tell us will help. Anything at all.” Another said. Pretty boy, tall in stature, slender, and what you thought to be the textbook definition of devilishly handsome. The hero of warriors, no doubt.
“I—uhm—“ you stuttered out dumbfoundedly, trying to process everything. You felt shellshocked and didn’t know what to do.
“Let’s back up away from her, she’s clearly overwhelmed…” a soft voice said, which was all too needed to your anxious ears. The hero of the skies pulled them back and you sighed, resting your elbows on your knees as the ends of your palms dug into your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself from this wild dream. This was crazy. Of course it was a welcome escape, these men were your heroes—a title they knew all too well and some carried like a burden—but they’d helped you in ways they could never know, and ways you could never tell because they weren’t real….so why are they standing in front of you, looking worried? You sighed deeply and opened your eyes. “I don’t know how I wound up here. At all… the last thing I remember is going to bed, and—then I woke up here… that’s it…”
“Strange… but oddly enough, not the strangest we’ve been through.” The hero of time helped you to your feet. “Well; looks like you’re along for the ride, stranger. What’s your name?”
“Y/n…”
“Y/n. Well, you’ll be safe with us. We’ve got ground to cover, so we should get back on track.” He led you back to the path. You were met with the sight of the other heroes of hyrule. They, however, were met with a sight that looked more like doe-eyed fear. Innocent and frightened.
The hero of twilight offered kind a kind and welcomed you into the group; as did the hero of wild, and hyrule. The hero of warriors looked at you with a smile, but it was easy to tell he was more trying to gauge your character. He was a captain, and knew all too well from the hero of the wild that often traitors to the crown disguise themselves as innocent travelers down on their luck. When he saw no sign of that he was quick to welcome you and check to see if you were alright. This, of course, left only the veteran and smith. The smith was kind, but a bit cautious of you. The veteran was cautious and indifferent. According to your story, it seemed like someone just picked you up at night and dropped you off here, which was a little sketchy if you asked him. Also filed under odd and sketchy was the marking over your hand. The triforce.
“Old man.” The veteran called. “I gotta talk to you.”
The old man looked at you, a silent ask if you were alright. Upon your offer of a nervous smile, he nodded and smiled back, walking over. You turned back to your quiet conversation between yourself, the traveler and the champion. They were asking you plenty questions on how you wound up asleep in the forest, each of which gave you no room to answer before another one arose.
“The mark on her hand.” The veteran pointed out.
“I noticed it too.”
“Is she a Zelda? She’s clearly not a Link. Not to mention, the mark is on her right and not her left hand.”
“Precisely. I don’t think she’s a Zelda, but there is something odd about this.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for anything off about it. It’d be good to tell the captain, too. He’s observant.”
“Right. I suppose we’ll talk again once we make camp tonight.” He nodded and went to the head of the group, saying something to the captain that you couldn’t hear, and waving a hand in the air that signaled the group to continue moving. This would be an interesting adventure, you determined. You couldn’t wait to see where it leads.
#linked universe#linkeduniverse#linked universe x reader#lu four#lu legend#lu hyrule#lu twilight#lu wind#lu sky#lu time#Lu wild#Lu wars#lu warriors#lu legend x reader#lu hyrule x reader#lu warriors x reader#lu four x reader#lu twilight x reader#lu wild x reader#lu sky x reader
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Chapter 3.
Note: follow up to chapter 2.
Warnings: fluff! mention of smoking, hints of anxiety and feeling lonely.
pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)
summary: You met up with Sihtric for the afterparty, and you got all stuck in your own head.
wordcount: 3,4k
Masterlist
'I only have eyes for you, trust me.'
During the days that led up to the last show of their tour, you and Sihtric stayed in touch, like you had done ever since you met again, almost two weeks ago.
The afterparty you had been invited to would probably last til about 5 in the morning, Sihtric told you, and you just hoped you could make it through the night, until you could catch the first train back home in the morning. Sihtric said you could bring your friend, Gisela, to the afterparty too. But to her horror, she wasn't in the country that day, and had no way of going with you. And so you had to go alone while she was devastated. Not that you minded going alone, you were confident enough by yourself, but you could've used some support while facing the man of your dreams again.
And naturally, your hands were shaking when you walked out of the train station, late at night, while messaging Sihtric that you were on your way to the venue.
You: I'm almost there…
Sihtric: can't wait x I'm having a smoke outside at the backstage entrance. You remember where it is?
You: yeah you only told me like 10 times x
You chuckled when you read his reply.
Sihtric: alright alright, just checking, lady ;)
Whilst shaking in your black platform boots, you walked through an almost empty street, adjusting your outfit; simple black skinny jeans and a black tank top, while a green and black coloured flannel kept you warm as you roamed the street on this chilly night.
Apart from a few fans, the street where the venue was located was rather quiet. You made your way around the corner, to the backstage entrance, and right away you saw Sihtric; looking down at his phone, taking a long drag from his cigarette while he leaned back against the door. His recently washed hair was tied back in a bun, and he still had that well kept goatee you loved so much, the sight of it shot a pleasant heat through your entire body. He was wearing a plain black shirt and black, slim fitting cargo sweatpants, which were, as per usual, tucked into his Doctor Martens boots. When Sihtric looked up and exhaled the smoke he had just inhaled, his eyes immediately found you, and a beaming smile appeared on his face. He flicked his cigarette away and walked up to you. A chuckle escaped him as he bit down on his lip, and he immediately pulled you in for a hug once you were in arms reach. Without thinking, you automatically wrapped your arms around his neck as he leaned in, and he snuck his arms around your waist, underneath your flannel. He quickly kissed your cheek and held you tightly pressed against his muscular chest, wrapped in his strong arms.
'Hey, baby girl,' Sihtric spoke softly in your ear, 'it's so good to see you again.'
'Hey,' your giggle sounded muffled against his chest, 'it's good to see you too.'
'How are you? How was your day?' he asked while pulling away, keeping his arms circled around your waist.
'Tired,' you pouted, 'work was rough. But happy to be here of course. Happy to see you.'
'Yeah? Awh,' he smiled sweetly, 'glad you made it, love,' he said, looking you up and down.
'But how are you? How was the show?' you asked while Sihtric was quick to reach for a pack of gum in his pocket.
'All good,' Sihtric said, chewing the mint flavoured gum while his hands lightly stroked your sides, 'everything went pretty smooth. This tour was just a bit of warm up, really. But that's all I can tell you for now,' he winked with a cheeky grin.
You stared into each other's eyes for a moment, then Sihtric chuckled again and hummed softly, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek, leaning in closer.
'You look beautiful,' he said, drawing his lower lip between his teeth as he gave you a cheeky half-smile.
'You're looking handsome yourself,' you smiled, hands placed on his broad chest as he just wouldn't let go of you.
Sihtric thanked you and leaned in even closer, his lips brushing lightly over yours while you both smiled. Tingles spread through your entire body as his warm hand held your cheek, and his hot, minty smelling breath tickled your lips. You were absolutely oblivious to your surroundings, completely captivated by his eyes, his touch, his smile and his pleasant smell. And just when you thought he was going to kiss you, Sihtric suddenly pulled away with a deep sigh. You snapped out of your dazed state and then realised a few young fans had recognised the bass player who had his arms around you, and they were trying to gather the courage to walk up to him. Sihtric had noticed them already while he was waiting for you, but thought the teenagers wouldn't gather the courage anyway. He desperately wanted to kiss you as soon as he saw you, but he knew better than to kiss someone out in the open, as a sneakily taken video was only two screen taps away, and he didn't want to cause you any more trouble than he had already done when he decided to follow your instagram. And just when he was barely able to resist you anymore, his lips touching yours while you closed your eyes, anticipating him, he glanced towards the young fans and saw they hesitantly walked over from across the street.
Sihtric wasn't an asshole, but he also wasn't in the mood to pay attention to anyone that wasn't you right now. He just desperately wanted to kiss you, or at least have you completely alone for a minute or two. So he pulled his backstage pass out of his pocket, swiftly scanned it to unlock the door which he then held open for you, and he quickly followed you into the dimly lit, empty hallway. Sihtric closed the door while you turned to face him, not knowing where to go as the venue was completely strange to you. But instead of guiding the way, he pulled you close again and took your face in his rough yet gentle hands, leaning in while he towered over you, and he pressed his warm lips onto yours, softly, as if asking permission for more. And when you finally grasped what was happening, you managed to kiss him back, your hands finding their way to his waist.
You couldn't actually believe you were kissing the guy you had a crush on ever since you first met him, all those years ago, so without thinking, or really having any other option, you surrendered to him entirely. And when Sihtric broke the soft kiss which had turned firm, you almost whined at the loss, but his lips didn't stray far, in fact, they were still touching yours lightly as he spoke.
'You mind a little tongue?' he whispered, smiling against your lips.
'I don't mind,' you breathed, and a nervous giggle slipped out, to your embarrassment.
Sihtric chuckled and stepped back, took out the gum he was chewing on and threw it in a trash can. And before you knew it, his rough hands gently took your face again, and he kissed you tenderly once more, then slowly made you part your lips along with his. He carefully explored your lips with his tongue for a moment, before he hummed as if satisfied, and eagerly deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth with ease, desperately wanting to feel and taste all of you as much as he could. You felt his hand move up to the back of your neck while his other hand trailed down to your waist, and your hands were simply still frozen on his waist, but your fingers had intensely curled around his shirt. You were lightheaded, filled with lust and nerves at the same time. The feeling of kissing Sihtric was overwhelming, yet it was also a feeling you never wanted to lose, a feeling you would forever want to chase. And when you both needed air, you unwillingly broke the kiss at the same time, breathing heavy onto each other's lips while refusing to pull away further.
'You good with this, hm?' Sihtric breathed, his hoarse voice tensing up your lower abdomen instantly.
'Y-yeah,' you sighed, then buried your face in his chest as you couldn't stop yourself from giggling like a teenager.
You felt Sihtric's hand on the back of your head, gently keeping you pressed against his chest and he lightly swayed his body while holding you, understanding you needed a moment. When you softly hummed, he took your chin and guided your lips back to his, as he leaned back against the door. You have no idea how long you kissed there, right at the entrance, but it didn't feel as if you got enough of him once he pulled away.
'I think we should head to the party,' Sihtric chuckled, 'or I'll get shit for not showing up.'
He looked down at you and slowly traced your lips with his rough thumb. 'Stay by my side?' he asked, almost pleading.
'Well, yeah,' you chuckled, 'I'm here because of you. I don't know anyone else here, really.'
'Good,' Sihtric smiled, 'then I won't have to worry that you wander off.' He grinned.
'As if,' you rolled your eyes and smiled, 'but, eh, can I put my flannel somewhere? It's quite warm here already.'
'Yeah, of course,' he said, 'anything valuable in there? Because then you should just put it in my dressing room. I don't know most of the people at these parties either, I keep my stuff away from the party really.'
'Oh, yeah, okay,' you nodded, 'my keys and such are in there so, yeah.'
Sihtric took your hand and led you down some stairs, to his dressing room. He took your flannel off your shoulders, threw it on the couch, and deliberately brushed his hands over your bare arms as he ushered you out of the room again. Then he wrapped his arm around your waist and finally led the way to the afterparty, which was at the end of the hallway you had shared your first kiss at. He walked you down some other stairs and opened the door to a large, dimly lit room. The room was quite warm and busy, the music loud, but not painfully loud, and you were immediately greeted by a faint smell of weed as you walked in.
Sihtric offered you a drink and you nervously sipped from your glass once he handed it to you. You could feel his eyes on you when you scanned the room, spotting the other band members, who were all each surrounded by at least a dozen girls, and you grimaced but then snorted.
'Yeah, don't ask,' Sihtric's lips grazed your ear as he spoke to you, and his arm found its way back around your waist again, 'they always got a bunch of ladies hanging around them. They love it.'
'And you?' you asked, still needing the reassurance you weren't going to be replaced as soon as some other lady walked up to him.
Sihtric shook his head and leaned in again.
'I only have eyes for you, trust me,' he smiled when he looked down at you, squeezing your shoulder.
You felt flattered and completely flushed. Slowly but surely everything was dawning on you. Where you were and with who you were, and you decided to try and just let it all happen. You desperately tried to get out of your own head while Sihtric kept hugging you and stole kisses whenever he could. And he murmured in your ear when he wasn't pecking your cheek or nuzzling your neck.
'I'm so glad you're here,' he murmured, 'haven't been able to stop thinking about you since we met last time. Can't get you out of my head.'
But it all suddenly became overwhelming when a few girls walked up to Sihtric. He wanted to ignore them, but knew it would be rude of him to do so, and then reluctantly took his eyes off you. You took a step back, but Sihtric kept his arm around you.
'Will you sign my boobs?' one of the fans asked with a grin.
You wondered what Sihtric would do, and within a split second you imagined how you would feel if he would say yes. Would you be okay with that? Not really… but, you had no right to complain either. You weren't dating. You don't even know if you could consider yourself friends. What exactly were you to him, you suddenly wondered, and it only made you feel more overwhelmed and insecure. And you suddenly felt going to the party might have been a mistake, you would probably get your silly little heart broken by this guy.
'Nah,' Sihtric replied to the fan, 'but I'll sign your arm or shirt, if you want?'
The small group of girls eagerly accepted his offer. Sihtric looked at you, conflicted, and brought his lips to your ear again.
'One sec, okay?' he said, 'I'm sorry, I'd rather have you all alone now, instead of all this.'
Sihtric grabbed a marker of the table next to you and pulled off its cap with his teeth, not wanting to let go of you, and he carefully, but quickly signed all their shirts. Apparently there was a rule to not ask for any pictures at the party so, after his signature, the fans politely thanked him. They tried to flirt with him for a moment, completely ignoring your presence next to him, but when it became clear to them that Sihtric wasn't interested, the girls turned to the other members.
In the meantime you felt rather dizzy. You were tired and overwhelmed, and in truth, all you wanted was to go home, get in bed, and sleep. Maybe even cry, actually. And Sihtric suddenly saw your teared up eyes and blank expression when he brought his eyes back on you.
'Hey,' he said, concerned, pulling you closer and towards an empty corner, 'what's wrong? You okay, babe?'
'Yeah, I'm just… tired, I guess,' you said, 'I feel a little dizzy. I think I need some air.'
You swallowed hard and stepped away, pushing to open the heavy door, and Sihtric was fast to help you as you struggled. Without asking, or saying another word, he took your hand and walked you out of the crowded, warm and loud room, into the cool air of the dimly lit hallway. You inhaled deeply and exhaled sharply, eyes closed as you leaned back against the wall, which felt cold against your back. A welcoming feeling, you thought. Sihtric towered over you as he placed one hand on the wall right next to your shoulder, and he carefully took your chin with his fingertips.
'What happened, love?' he asked, a worried look painted his face.
'I think I'm just tired and overwhelmed. I'm really sorry,' you said quietly.
'There's nothing to say sorry for,' Sihtric smiled softly and caressed your cheek with his thumb, 'come,' he guided you with him, back to his dressing room, where he sat you down and handed you a bottle of water.
He sat down next to you on the black, leather couch, his arm around you as it rested on the couch's pillows, and he scooted closer.
'Can I get you something? Anything? Some food maybe?' Sihtric asked, his voice calm and low, 'or do you wish to go home, love?'
'No, thank you,' you smiled weakly, 'sorry if I ruined your night. You can go back, I'll… find my way out,' you shrugged, 'I can call a friend who lives here, it's no problem.'
'I don't know what you're talking about,' he said, carefully monitoring you, 'if anything,' he chuckled, 'I'm glad I had a valid reason to leave that party. But if you think I'm letting you head out on the streets on your own right now, you're wrong.'
You smiled at him, simply being speechless because of everything.
'Wait,' Sihtric scoffed, 'you came here by train. What time is your last train even?'
You glanced at the time and saw almost two hours had passed since you arrived in the city.
'Yeah,' you sighed, 'there is no more last train. The next train is in about three hours. I hoped I could linger around at the party long enough to catch that train back home,' you smiled sheepishly.
'At four in the morning?' Sihtric frowned, 'what… why… hold on,' he said, 'you thought you could stay up all night, here, partying, and then take the train back?'
'Yeah, I was a little too enthusiastic, I guess,' you admitted.
'Sweetheart,' Sihtric chuckled, 'you... clearly you won't last another ten minutes here-'
'I know. But like I said, I can call a friend, I'm sure they're still awake. I can grab a cab or something, don't worry about it.'
'Where does your friend live?'
You reluctantly told Sihtric your friend lived at the other side of town, in a rather dodgy neighbourhood.
'Oh, no, absolutely not,' Sihtric said, his voice firm but still polite, 'look,' he exhaled sharply, 'just… just come with me, to my hotel. Stay the night, I'll get you home tomorrow.'
'Sihtric, wh- I mean,' you stammered, 'I- I… I appreciate that, but, I don't know,' you looked down at your feet and mumbled, 'I don't think that's a good idea.'
'What makes you think that?' he asked quietly, studying you as you carefully seemed to pick your next words.
You already embarrassed yourself today, you thought, so you might as well make it worse and ruin whatever it is that you had going with Sihtric. It would be for the best, probably, to just get this over with before you got too attached.
'Look,' you finally spoke up, 'obviously, I like you,' you blurted out, 'but I don't… I don't want to spend a night with you and possibly fall even more for you, only to be just… played.'
'Played?' Sihtric asked and sat back, confused and perhaps even slightly offended, 'you think I'm asking you to come to my room because I want to fuck you?' he stared at you and licked his lips, 'listen,' he leaned in again, 'you think I stayed in touch with you just for laughs? To play you? Really?'
'I don't know,' you said softly, 'I don't even know what this is,' you gestured to him, 'I don't know what you want or expect from me. You seem to like… like flirt with me, invite me here, make out with me and all that, and now you ask me to stay over. But I just…' you threw your hands up.
'No, no, listen to me, babe,' Sihtric cupped your cheek and stared into your eyes, 'this life,' he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper, 'my life, is really fucking lonely.'
He averted his suddenly vulnerable looking eyes.
'It's really hard to make friends or keep the friends I already have. You and I… we just vibe somehow,' he looked back at you with soft eyes. 'I like your company. I like our conversations and I like your energy. I like you,' he smiled sweetly, 'and I'm not simply looking to fuck. I mean, hey, I gladly will, lady,' he chuckled, 'but I just want to get to know you. And clearly, you need to get to know me too. I like you, I really do. But I don't want to rush anything either, so maybe I wasn't direct enough when I invited you here. We can do everything at your pace, I promise. I'm only asking you to come with me because, in truth, it is the safest option for you to spend the night in this town. But also because I just… I feel so… gods, this is so fucking cheesy,' he shook his head, 'but I feel so happy when you're around, or when we just talk, even online. And I'm really sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I'm not looking for a one night stand, I actually thought I made that clear when we messaged, you know?'
You felt so many emotions going through at once, you felt rather lightheaded again. You could only stare up into his eyes while your hands were tightly wrapped around the water bottle.
'I swear I'm not playing you,' Sihtric whispered and cupped both your cheeks, 'I'm really not, baby. I promise I'm not messing with you. And I promise I'm not expecting you to sleep with me anytime soon, if you don't feel comfortable. But just… please, stay with me, baby?' he pleaded, 'just tonight. We're not going to do anything you don't want to do, I promise.'
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#sihtric x reader#sihtric x you#sihtric kjartansson#sihtric fic#the last kingdom fic#the last kingdom#sihtric#tlk#modern!sihtric
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Remember Me, Special Dreams
Part I.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25
GIF: Originally posted by @sandmancentral
Summary: Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit.
Warnings: language, angst, mentions of night terrors.
Word Count: 1.2k
A/N: Title from the lyrics of Placebo’s Special Needs. Story inspired by my own experience with parasomnia and night terrors. Fun fact: I've had two parasomnia episodes since starting to write this and they were quite something! Second part coming soon. Have a great day, Saskia.
Sandman Masterlist
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Sleep hallucinating was not something that you had experienced as a child. The occasional bout of sleep talking and walking, yes, but seeing things in a state of semi-unconsciousness was something you had grown into.
This particular type of parasomnia was fuelled by nightmarish visions. Of insects and arachnids crawling in your sheets. Of threatening, humanoid shadows stalking the perimeter of your bed. One instance a few years ago had been a severed head floating above your face. Macabre but not wholly unexpected due to the brutal TV programme you had been watching before bedtime.
Each incident unleashed a visceral, unbridled terror that sent your pulse spiking and incoherent noises tumbling from your mouth. There would be a frantic scramble for the nearby light source, a search of your room or violent thrashings of your limbs to defend against your imagined threat.
Strangely, unlike when you had sleep walked and talked, you were always lucid enough to be aware of what was transpiring and recall each detail come morning. However, the truly unsettling part of each episode would be that despite your recognition that these visions weren’t real, you were totally unable to stop your physical reactions to them.
Your rational brain would be held hostage by your subconscious and until you had performed your safety behaviours, you were unable to assuage your over-stimulated mind.
There was a pattern to it too; when your life was being affected with stress, the hallucinations would gain their freedom. At present, stress was staining your nearly every waking moment and creating turmoil in your nocturnal ones.
This had been happening every night for over a week, with each hallucination becoming more vivid every time. It had resulted in a jittery dread of bedtime and extreme exhaustion come morning.
So when a worry-amplifying day at work coincides with you noticing a person standing in the corner of your room, you are hardly astonished.
As per, your survival instinct kicks in and forces you to slam your clammy hand onto the plastic lamp switch.
Terror then turns to confusion when your delusion doesn’t disappear like it usually would.
"Well this is new," you speak out loud.
You blink a few times, wondering if there’s something in your eyes.
You re-focus on the space where your little desk stands.
The person is still there. They appear to be a man. And you can pick out stunning levels of detail on their pale face.
An angular bone structure and nose. Intense, bluish eyes framed by dark lashes and brows. Perfect pinkish lips. Most striking, however, is their raven-coloured hair. It sticks out in all kinds of directions with unruly precision.
You laugh feverishly. "Okay, brain, you’ve really outdone yourself this time. I applaud your newfound persistence but you can stop now. I know this isn’t real."
“What makes you so sure that I’m not real?” The man asks.
Your head falls back in exasperation. “Oh great, a hallucination that talks.”
The position of the figure’s head told you that they were still waiting for an answer.
You lean forwards a fraction to study him more closely. You smirk as you choose your reply.
“Honestly, you’re way too attractive to be real.”
A smile ghosts over the man’s face and you hear a small noise of bemusement.
“You flatter me, but I can assure you that I am very real."
"Nope, you're just a side effect of my anxiety."
You close your eyes, upgrading to screwing them shut when you could still pick out his silhouette from behind your eyelids.
He's still there when you look again.
You find yourself rubbing rough circles into the skin at the back of your skull.
“Just wake up," you say to yourself as your movements become a little desperate.
"You already are awake."
His tone is the blended juxtaposition of the whispered beginnings of a rainstorm paired with the sub-continental trembles of an earthquake. It is utterly distracting but somehow you manage to argue back once more.
“I’m very certain that you are a dream. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to focus on regaining consciousness.”
The image takes a single, measured step towards you.
You could now see him in the mirror across from you. You were unsure if your subconscious had paid attention to the laws of reflection before.
The observation gives birth to panic. Never before had a dream been so intricate. And the more it progressed, the more you began to question whether you were actually asleep after all.
When he takes another step, fear moves from your stomach to your throat.
"Oh, shit," you curse in an undertone, as you find yourself retreating like a mouse from a feline.
The man continues to advance.
His floor length coat sways hypnotically with each movement he makes.
"It's just a dream," you reason.
More like a nightmare. Your inner voice volunteers unhelpfully.
Your arms form a crisscrossed belt around your waist, your hands are balled into fists, skin blanched by your clenched knuckle bones.
You begin to repeat four words in a mantra, hoping above all else that it’s enough to over-ride the sleep cycle that has you imprisoned.
“It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream.”
Your mattress is like a lifeboat in a treacherous ocean, you feel it shift under you as the man takes a seat beside you.
Two more of your senses begin to process stimuli from his presence; his proximity sends a jolt of stirring heat across your sweat-cooled skin and there’s a scent blend akin to a glacial landscape.
A landscape dominated by snow dappled mountains, divided by serene water and framed by ancient forests. Like the Fjords of Norway in the summertime.
You are aware of your growing delirium from this intoxicating sensory overload.
"It's just a dream," you whisper once more as his stare swallows you entirely.
He speaks in his velveteen voice, “Would a dream be able to do this?”
Before you have time to process, his hands are reaching for you own, prising them out of the vice-like grip you have on your torso and setting them down on your lap.
His deep blue eyes appraise you thoroughly, checking for a change in your viewpoint.
There is no difference. Your face is still set with disbelief.
A frown pinches the man’s face for a quick moment before reverting back his previous stoic expression.
His next movements are graceful and measured, like he's performed them a thousand times.
To your surprise, he pulls a leather pouch from his pocket.
He loosens the beaded draw strings and you feel a strange hum of energy pass through the air.
By this point you are so confused by your brain’s choice of hallucination that you simply accept it without question and continue to watch the scene unfold.
Long fingers dip inside the pouch to retrieve something that you cannot see.
He's then bending so his face is at the same level as yours. There's a rush of air from his mouth and a swirl of sand is hitting your skin.
You flinch away from the assault but it's too late. The particles are in your eyes.
It brings on a sensation that is impossible to ignore. It fogs up your brain like warm breath on a cold windscreen. A sensation completely summed up by the single word you hear him utter as your body goes limp.
"Sleep."
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"All my dreaming torn in pieces."
#the sandman#the sandman x reader#the sandman netflix#sandman x reader#morpheus#morpheus x reader#morpheus/dream#morpheus/dream x reader#dream of the endless#dream x reader#dream of the endless x reader#the endless#the dreaming#tom sturridge#reader insert#the sandman fic#the sandman 2022#fanfiction#the sandman imagine#slow burn#angst#Spotify#saskia writes sandman
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hi hi, just a cute idea if you want to write it love 🥰 reader has nightmares and she can't fall asleep so peter hugs and kisses her, stroking her hair gently and tells her that there's nothing to be afraid of and that he's with her<3
hello love!!! thank you so so much for the request! this is so adorable, and I had a lot of fun writing it for you ! I hope you enjoy it :) <3
You're Safe With Me .
pairing; Peter Ballard x Fem!Reader
summary; (in the request!) Reader has been having nightmares lately, and has been on edge during the working hours of her life, Peter has noticed this and ends up figuring out the issues and makes the reader spend the night with him. <3
warnings; Nightmares, loss of sleep, crying, Aftermath of nightmares, rest is all fluff <3 (please lmk if I missed anything!)
a/n; this is my first new request in awhile and I'm so happy about it!!! also, I've decided that I'll also be taking requests for Anthony from Sweeney Todd !! (another characterJamie plays for those who may not know) :) <3
--×♥︎×--
It was a quiet night through out Hawkins National Labrotoris. The lights had gone out, and everyone was sleeping, peacefully wouldn't be the correct word choice per say because nothing inside of the dreadful building was ever peacefully that any stable mind would say.
But it was at least quiet, there was that much, sure it was usually always quiet, but during the night feeling of it being so quiet was different, some would've said relieving, others would have said extremely skin crawling chilling.
Though, the gaurds and the nurses and the children had all been finally sleeping at the exhausted muscles in their bodies slowly went through the process of fully relaxing, just for them to be overworked again within the next few hours, yours were tense.
You were sleeping, yes, but, it was quiet the opposite from relaxing you, infact it seemed as though it were killing you in a way. Your limps twitched, and your head turned from side to side harshly.
And suddenly your breath decides to join in part of the sensory madness and turn itself into fast pants, and your body coated itself in a cold, thick sweat.
Thats when your brain suddenly turned off its movie of horror that made your heart nervous and your nerves a mental breakdown, your eyes snapped open like a light switch being flickered on.
You sat up quickly, blinking profusely, looking at your surroundings.
You were in your room, and it was nearly 3:25 a.m., you still had about 3 more hours of sleep left.
You took some time to get your nerves back into shape and running again, but you laid, staring at your ceiling, you went to rub your tired eyes and when doing so, they felt damp.
You sighed to yourself and began to wonder how you'd even ended up in here in the first place.
--×♥︎×--
You don't remember what time it was when you fell asleep, but your alarm did its job as it had done everyday for the last year and 5 months now.
You forced your legs to keep you on the cold tiled floor you were standing on, your vision going from a blur to black within seconds from standing too quickly.
This wasn't the first time working in this sort of hell house had given you dreadful images that played in your mind through the night.
They'd been happening to you for about 2 weeks now and it wasnt the first time you had struggled with these types of dreams either.
but they felt more torturous than the shocking collar did. Thankfully you've never came into contact with that God forsaken thing. But you knew someone who has.
His name was Peter, Peter Ballard, and he's the sweetest man you'd ever met inside of this prison, He always smiled even if you could sense he truly didn't want to at times.
And he was always caring of you, others? not so much. He didn't seem to notice any of the other workers or nurses or even most of the children, but you seemed to have caught his eye.
And it made you curious and wonder what it could've possibly been about you that made him attract to you as if you were a magnet.
--×♥︎×--
It was finally your break, your legs quickly exited you from the rainbow room, sure it was the only room with color but sometimes it was nauseating to look at.
You tried not to ponder much about it as you pushed through the double doors of the breakroom and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.
The coffee was poor quality and looked mucky inside of the mugs they were meant for. It didn't even fully look like it was coffee inside of a mug, someone who lived beyond the walls of Hawkins Labrotory would've identified it as a mug full of swamp water.
Your eyes felt heavy along with your head, but you did your best to fight off your powerful tiredness and exhaustion. If Brenner had suspected anything of the sorts, you'd never be hearing the end of it.
You had even realized your eyes were resting until the sound of the double doors creaked opened again.
It was that angelic blond man who you dearly adored. His hair was curled perfectly as it were everyday, and his eyes seemed dull, though they still shined through the poor lights in bedded into the ceiling. He also seemed more awake than you were the last week.
"Didn't rest much last night?" He asked, his voice was as soft as a pillow as always. Though it took you a few seconds for your brain to actually register what he said.
"hm? oh, no I slept fine." Your voice croaked, it sounded like you just woke up and your cheeks started to flush pink from embarressment.
"Does that explain those black circles underneath your eyes?" He said, a smirk etched onto his face, you rolled your eyes at him smiling back a tiny bit.
"Whatever Blondie." He hated that name.
"Stop calling me that!" He laughed a little. You sat up a bit more and placed your hand over your heart, pretending to be hurt.
"My word, I thought you found the name to be music to your ears." Sarcasm was booming in your words.
"Your voice in general is."
You thought you'd heard him say something but, he was whispering and your mind felt hazy from how tired you were.
"Hmm?" you hummed to him, but it wouldn't have mattered if he answered you, your mind wouldn't take the time to process it anyway.
You loved being able to joke with him in such a way, it seemed as though you could be sarcastic with him and not get scolded for doing so, infact he found it to be funny.
It only took a few weeks for you and Peter to get along, and before you knew it the both of you were best friends, as a small child would call it. And you seemed to enjoy calling it that too, but it felt somewhat silly to you whenever you did.
He never seemed to have minded though, and it made you not feel as stupid for it.
It also didn't take long for the two of you to realize the love you held for eachother. And you would've never assumed that he would've became your secret boyfriend a day in your life either.
--×♥︎×--
Your shift had recently ended, and you were feeling quite anxious and your mind thought of how horrible this night were going to be.
How you didn't want to have to suffer through another night of vivid nightmares that would leave you shaking for 15 minutes straight.
As you lay on your mattress, staring at your ceiling, each time you'd attempt to close your eyes, they'd only re-open themselves.
Like your own body was refusing itself from falling asleep.
This cycle continued for what felt like hours, but in reality had only been 10 minutes. And at this rate you'd given up on the idea of sleep.
But you knew you had to get some type of sleep if you wanted to be able to wake up on time for work in the morning, so you kicked off your covers and sighed to yourself.
You sighed as you stood at your bed, closing your eyes, and then tears began to fall. You just wanted it to stop, for the nightmares to end, for you to be able to sleep without your entire body having a nervous breakdown.
You looked up at the ceiling and took a breath, quietly exiting your bedroom to go see your true love as guilty as you felt about the idea of awakening him.
Your knuckles quietly tapped against the metal door. Your sniffles surely couldve been heard from the next hall, and through the door.
Your body tensed when you heard the sound of footsteps.
Suddenly the door opened and Peter quickly pulled you inside for you to have not gotten caught, he took a few moments to examine your face before pulling you into his warm embrace.
"What happened baby?" He whispered into your hair, his voice was deep and filled with haziness.
"nothing I just uhm. I haven't been able to sleep and I w-wanted to know if it was okay if.. If I slept here? with you..?" Your voice was trembling and muffled from your face nuzzled into his chest.
His hand start rubbing your back as he comforted you, and you felt your shoulders start to loosen as you melted from his touch.
"Of course.." He mumbled before gently pulling away from you and grabbing your hands, taking you to his bed with him, You'd never seen him in anything but his working clothes, so seeing him wearing a plain t-shirt and shorts was some what of a big deal to you.
He looked really good though, but you cleared your thoughts and focused back on sleeping as he pulled your body towards his under the covers, his sheets smelled like him and his comforter was warm like him. You felt so safe around him that it felt like not even Brenner could harm you.
He continued to sooth your body and kiss your forehead, "Why weren't you able to sleep?" He asked lowly
"..I've been having nightmares." You replied, you felt so embarrassed to have to admit that to your boyfriend as an adult.
"I guess that's why I haven't slept much, they've been.. scaring me too much." You didn't really process that you were telling him this because you just wanted to sleep.
"There's nothing to be afraid of, I promise.. Not for as long as im with you dear." He murmurs to you as all your muscles finally relax and loosen from the overwhelmingly relief of you finally drifting into sleep.
#peter ballard#peter ballard x reader#peter ballard x you#peter ballard fluff#henry creel fanfiction#henry creel x y/n#henry creel x reader#henry creel#001#001 fluff#001 x reader#vecna/henry/001#stranger things 001
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The great regular sleep experiment of 2024 part "REM"
Again I get into bed by 10 or 10:10 ish and an undoubtedly asleep by 10:30... again I sleep, wake briefly, sleep again and wake to find it is 1:44 or 1:45...
Again I lay in bed 2 extra hours trying to sleep before giving up to go pee and feed my cat, alert as can be. Tired, but so so alert.
Again I have had dreams of being back in circumstances involving ex's ex friends and old roommates... This time I am trying to tell someone, "No really, the skinny corset style top isn't mine, it is too small, my rib-cage alone would break it and I don't wear girly things with pink print all over them, it has to be Fine's. IDC if it's black or if you think it would 'suit me'..."
And why? Because men in my life, friends or otherwise were always doing that. They'd find a "girl clothes" in their/the house that's about 2-5X girlier than my gay ass would ever wear, and insist on repeat that it "MUST" be mine, that I am just not remembering and getting defensive, sometimes accompanied with comments of thinking it would look good on me or wanting to see me in it... Always until some other "woman" [because they would not acknowledge my masculinity, other women are women, i'm just a gay] would come forward and be like "Yeah, no I left that here."
And always always always it was someone who should have known me better than that. Someone who could have only missed what I generally wore if they hadn't bothered really looking at me for years at a time in close proximity. And often either my partner, or someone who seriously had no business picturing me in ANY clothes/outfits [like being 20 years older than me]. Very often they would have me confused with another 'girl' with dark hair, even when they are dating me. There is an insult inherent to this.
And now I have to fuckign DREAM that? Bullshit.
Who did I piss off?
But I guess my point is, it's becoming clear that I have been sleeping like this all along, but usually strung together on one end of the day instead of spaced out, so I couldn't really tell that when I am sleeping 8 hours I might only actually be getting half that many REM cycles.
Because either:
-I am having REM cycles faster than most people which means I am getting two in 3 ish hours of sleep, which explains waking in the middle and having dreams on both sides of that [8 hour equivalent in terms of raw REM cycles]
-I am only having one rem cycle per sleep, interrupted, which means currently having 2 per day [4 hour sleep equivalent to most people]
And if you have recommendations for affordable home equipment to measure that I am all ears, because I wouldn't survive going to a sleep clinic.
Every trick I have ever used to combat insomnia is failing me. Self hypnosis, meditations, other things you do before bed that knock people out cold sometimes... Any medication that's made me sleepy before, all of it, none of it.
And I just get to wake up vaguely annoyed I am wasting my precious vivid dreaming time talking to people I removed from my personal space for a reason, and other generic dream actors.
And the night sleep, well that's the one that butts up against the nope-time, 5-10 am... but the day sleep, I have tried to encourage the day sleep to extend itself with no luck either.
If I stopped sleeping at night, I might get the two sleeps crammed back together, but then it's exactly what I don't want, sleeping all day, and also -by virtue of it being regularly scheduled sleep- I won't be sleeping any longer than I am now.
I always liked a half day schedule. I liked it in theory and in the moments I could hold onto it in practice. It solves a LOT of my problems including waking up halfway through the night and not being able to sleep again, and it being too hard to force myself awake all the way till my next sleep time, that's only half a day away at most now.
I just... I need more than 8 hours of sleep, and I am getting 6 on a good day.
And that brings me to the next point... I am pretty sure the conflict is this:
-I have a delayed sleep phase disorder that sometimes looks like a non-24 hour sleep disorder because of how it keeps pushing my bedtime back when I sleep at night [I am a 'night person']
-I am a "super sleeper" in that I have the genes to have shorter sleep cycles or for my body to think it needs one fewer to be alert
-I also have chronic fatigue and require extra rest/sleep regardless, maybe specifically sleep to help with healing and converting adenosine, and this is incompatible with also having the genes of a "super sleeper"
-I am one of those people hardwired to "two sleeps" as was once more fashionable, and this doesn't stack well with everything else or with the societal expectation that I should sleep 8 hours in one block and only at night.
-My most natural time to fall asleep is right after sunrise and that is the ONE time it is most safe for me to run errands now, due to 'infectious dose' [or the dose of virus I -personally- react to, short of infection] vs 'viral load' [virus levels that build up in the air in buildings through the day] and the fucking perpetual plague, so it is the one time I need to be habituated to being alert enough to go out. First thing at opening, after walking there.
In a world without the plague I could probably sleep from midnight to whenever and only have to deal with SOME of the... Byproducts~ of a regular sleep schedule, a lot of people don't expect you to be an early morning person when you are disabled.
Anyway I am just going to start biting people now. [In dreams? who can say! It worked on the sleep paralysis demons didn't it?]
Love that I decided to do this to myself just to make SUPER SURE that regular sleep wouldn't solve my problems...
At least I am not hallucinating or having night terrors, sleep paralysis etc.
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more bummer ramblings below
literally just sitting here crying my eyes out reading people's posts on the bipolar subreddit and like i dont know what to do with any of that.
i've been really scared that what i've been dealing with is addiction, because it felt like adhd impulsivity + stimulation craving but on steroids, like boosted to 100,000%
but idk the more i think about it all, it might be hypo/mania. like im basically nearing about 3 months of constantly just making connections between things in my head, sleeping for only a few hours a night, literally not doing my job, feeling extremely social but only online and completely neglecting irl relationships and responsibilities, not eating or drinking water, etc..
and some of it has been really good! like i have created some art and actually finished some shit for once whereas i usually just get really hype and start a project but never finish. so im happy about that, and i think its ok that i'm like.. trying to be more 'social' online because i work from home and because of covid don't have a ton of irl options for 'public' life. in ways it feels like an improvement to me where before i felt like absolutely 0 motivation at all, just sitting on tiktok for literally 6-10 hours per day (i basically havent even opened the app in like 2 months which felt like an improvement, but im now working WAY less even than when i was in that phase).. but the fact that this 'creative productivity and sociable/positive mood' is paired with me basically not doing my job AT ALL + not sleeping or eating, etc..
ive been feeling a little better in the past couple weeks because i thought like..maybe i have an 'addiction' or at the very least a destructive pattern so i thought the solution could be.. being mega aware of my actions at all times, meticulously tracking every hour of my day and recording what i do and making plans for every chunk of the day..which hasnt been hurting, it's helped me remember the really basic things, keeping my priorities 'straight' in theory. but every second of the day is this really uncomfortable restlessness and if i dont put my energy into a project or something that i'm excited about i feel like im crawling out of my skin.. ive been smoking like crazy. and now that ive finished my project i feel like im itching inside my skin lmao
idk especially reading people's posts on the reddit about how it's showed up throughout their life.. im just thinking about the year where i was 100% convinced that i was like.. in a simulation / samsara and that a meteor was coming.. and that i was getting visions of future iterations of the simulations thru my dreams. but i never told anyone about it because i was like,.. oh i dont actually believe these things, even though i'm terrified out of my mind thinking about them because they feel so real and if i see anything online that is slightly related to 'the simulation' or a meteor hitting earth i would spiral with paranoia and anxiety.
like i just feel like im screaming into the void in all my relationships trying to explain how out of control and scared i feel.. but everyone has just been like 'hey, it's alright, you seem fine to me, your standards for yourself are too high' and im like ok tell that to the fact i've worked maybe 5 hours a week every week for the last 3 months. like ive spent the last month pretty much terrified that im just going to keep making bad/impulsive decisions until i'm fired and/or dead
#idk#this is kind of long but the tldr of it is i think im coming out of a manic episode#and ive never really considered that i might be bipolar#but im reading some posts and .. wondering about it#because the severity of my situation rn is like...very detrimental to my wellbeing :-)
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Hi! Seeing the discussion about head types, I got reminded about one thing that was present my entire life - I can’t fall asleep until my brain feels extremely exhausted from the amount of information I consumed in a day. For example, after a long day where I did stuff (maybe sports and other physical activities, or maybe I didn’t do much per se but I didn’t sleep well), my body feels exhausted and ready to rest, but my brain is like “What? Sleeping? Nope, I am too bored to sleep. I need some mental stimulation!”. It usually results into mandatory 2-3 hour reading before sleep, not necessary something useful, I just need *something* that will tire out my mind, so I can finally go to sleep. Sometimes I don’t even remember what I read deep at night and it feels like a fever dream. I feel like I always need to keep my mind busy - be it reading, playing games, solving puzzles, analyzing things that I’m into and, if I am for some reason am unable to access any outside stimulation, I just resort to drafting stories in my own head and reading them as if they were books. Could that be that head type mental activity you were talking about? I think I am either a 5 or a 7, undergoing a weird typology crisis right now. I also used to mistype as ENTP because of that.
Yup. Sounds like ENP 7w6 in particular -- buzzing energy, intense mental focus, always needing to avoid being bored, creating stories in your head to entertain yourself, more and more stimulation, until you drop from mental exhaustion.
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[THE RAMPAGE Yoshino Hokuto × Intimissimi] Where do you want to take your special someone? What would you like to give them as a gift?
youtube
CHECK! There is a special coupon at the end of the video, so watch until the end.
Holiday Season with Hokuto Yoshino
Q1
[0:19-0:41]
What would you like to share with your significant other?
Hokuto:
Share…
Music.
As an artist,
or a vocalist rather, i am privileged to be able to convey music to everyone.
As a way of sharing my thoughts and feelings…
music came to mind.
STAFF: What would you like to share with your family?
[0:42-0:56]
Hokuto:
I usually share pictures and such with my parents.
Saying, “We’re in the middle of a shoot right now,”
since we tend to keep in touch and call each other often.
Q2
What clothes do you want to share with your significant other?
[0:57-1:15]
Hokuto:
Clothes?
Umm…
As winter is approaching,
a zip-up parka.
It makes my heart race a bit.
I can day dream!
STAFF: You are Intimissimi's first male model!
[1:16-1:26]
Hokuto:
I really do appreciate it!
The fact that it can be worn by men and women is the greatest thing!
And it's very comfortable to wear.
STAFF: It seems to be 100% silk.
[1:27-1:46]
Hokuto:
No wonder!
Feels like i’m being wrapped up.
It covers the skin so well
like a feeling of being absorbed.
It’s a lovely sensation!
Q3
What‘s your usual nightwear?
[1:47-2:11]
Hokuto:
Usually..
unused rehearsal clothes.
In the winter,
I wear something fluffy.
But now starting from today
I'll be wearing this!
Seriously though,
the fact that women and men can wear it regardless of gender
is great.
Q4
Do you have a night routine?
[2:12-2:58]
Hokuto:
Before bed, I take a bath
and take vitamins.
When I’m busy, it can be difficult to get adequate nutrition,
so taking supplements before bed can be helpful.
In order to take care of my body,
I make sure to take a bath and take vitamins before bed.
It was black earlier,
but it turned completely white.
Or rather, the image has changed again.
There are times when clothes can be bothersome
or bulky.
This, however does not get in the way.
It feels more like being buried, to be honest.
It’s likely the quality of sleep will also improve.
STAFF: Of the two mentioned before, which do you prefer, “black” or “white”?
[2:59-3:15]
Hokuto:
umm..
I’ll buy either one!
I can’t really choose.
White is nice as well, you know..
It’s okay to adjust things according to your nightwear.
Not just the bedroom, but the entire space.
Including the sheets.
STAFF: Are there any preferences you have regarding your current bedroom?
[3:16-3:37]
Hokuto:
It’s just regular right now.
I mean sure it’s regular but,
in terms of my personal preference
It’s the smell.
Next to the bed
are aroma candles (lamps that melt candles with the warmth of the light).
It smells pretty good.
STAFF: What kind of scents?
[3:38-3:44]
Hokuto:
It's fabric softener.
I recommend it!
Q5
What place would you like to take your significant other?
[3:50-4:33]
Hokuto:
(In deep thought)
I'll take them to my hometown.
It’s a nice place, my hometown.
I’m from Miyazaki.
There’s a place called Kobayashi in Miyazaki,
and although Kobayashi is in the countryside,
it has a great atmosphere and good water.
The fireflies flutter about in a frenzy,
soaring like stars.
Seeing that as a kid, was amazing.
Even now, I vividly remember it.
I want to show beautiful things like that.
The stars are incredibly beautiful too.
I want to see beautiful things together
and feel a sense of beauty.
STAFF: Miyazaki Prefecture has delicious food, right?
[4:34-4:58]
Hokuto:
Right…
such as local chicken dishes, chicken nanban,
or Miyazaki beef.
Miyazaki beef once ranked first in the nation.
Recently, Gyozas have taken the top spot (by the amount purchased per household).
I suppose it’s still a bit unknown.
I want to take them to gourmet places like that.
STAFF: What Miyazaki dish do you want to eat the most?
[4:59-5:07]
Hokuto:
Chicken Nanban.
Chicken Nanban is the best eaten locally, after all.
It’s the tastiest!
STAFF: Is the flavor different?
[5:08-5:12]
Hokuto:
*whispers: “It’s different ~”
Q6
What do you have to share that you would like to give to your significant other?
[5:13-5:31]
Hokuto:
huhh ~
What might it be...
share, is it?
Plants!
We’ll grow them together!
We’ll grow house plants together.
To watch the plants grow up is something I would like to do together.
STAFF: How does it fit you?
[5:32-6:09]
Hokuto:
It’s quite different from the silk-satin wear I wore a moment ago.
The texture is thick.
It feels a bit more firm.
The floral pattern is very cute.
The design is likely to be well received by women.
I would like it if they wore something like this…
Even as loungewear, if you wear this.. It’s fashionable.
When running errands to the convenience store or the supermarket, it is still appropriate.
Like a shirt,
it’s cute with it open.
It’s even cute when it’s closed.
It can be arranged in various ways.
I think it’s really nice!
Hokuto:
[6:14-6:23]
I’m getting sleepy.
The comfort of wearing it is too good.
Q7
Positive or Negative
[6:24-6:33]
Hokuto:
I’d say I'm a positive person!
STAFF: Are there things that you do to stay positive?
[6:34-7:19]
Hokuto:
Having an open mind, I suppose.
I believe that when things happen a certain way..
or if things turn out differently..
you're like, “huh...why..? ”
There is a tendency to become increasingly absorbed in negativity.
But by having an open mind,
even if it’s “different” from what you expected,
you can see things from another angle.
I feel like you can approach things with a positive outlook.
It’s not just about what I want.
I properly consider the opinions of the people around me,
while acknowledging them
and maintaining a broad mindset.
Maybe I am getting used to being positive?
Q8
What Christmas-related memories do you have?
[7:20-8:07]
Hokuto:
On Christmas eve,
we had a live in Niigata.
At that time, the snow piled up like crazy
It was magical.
Christmas is associated with
a unique atmosphere.
It was such an amazing feeling
and the live felt like a Christmas version.
I am grateful for the opportunity to do it.
The live was very memorable.
The streets of Niigata
Is something that can not be experienced in the cities.
It was an unbelievable scene
as if I was in another world.
I had a very fulfilling Christmas.
STAFF: Can you describe the comfort level of high-neck tops?
[8:08-8:21]
Hokuto:
This garment appears to have a small amount of cashmere.
It’s perfectly fitted
and feels so good!
How nice!
It can be worn casually…
I’ll definitely wear this.
ANNOUNCEMENT! Special coupons available for use in the online stores and shops!
Special coupon
SPRING 2023
CHECK the overview section for more details!
Hokuto:
[8:39-8:51]
Today, the things that I wore
can be checked out in the store and online shop.
Please be sure to get a matching set!
Let’s share this comfort!
(He waves goodbye sweetly!)
wooooow ~ sugoiiii~ ♡
#the rampage from exile tribe#the rampage#吉野北人#hokuto yoshino#SPRiNG#intimissimi#eng#fan translation#大切の人#♡#インタビュー#interview#Youtube
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ao3 wrapped !!
I've seen a few people doing this and thought I'd jump on the train lmao
1: how many words have you written this year?
uh. um. 319,614 lmfaooo
2: how many works did you publish this year?
just 5!! it's been a slow posting year but I have a LOT of WIPs I was working on in the meantime lmao
3: what work are you most proud of, regardless of kudos/hits?
bound like quintenary stars, without a doubt. it's the largest scale project I've ever done, and it's really forced me to grow as a writer
4: what work of yours has the most hits?
hold onto me has over 15k hits which is still WILD to me lmfao. if only i could write an update to that thang. and if we're talking just this year, then it's buckley siblings and their terrible, awful, no good very bad first dates at almost 3k
5: favorite title you used?
DEFINITELY buckley siblings and their terrible, awful, no good very bad first dates. i read that book as a kid and i think i'm hilarious
6: what artist have you pulled lyrics from the most:
probably bastille. tbh
7: pairing that you wrote the most for this year:
buddie LMAO. of the 5 fics i posted this year, 3 of them are buddie. I'm not counting quintenary stars in this because as of right now it's still mostly genfic and the romance won't come in until much further down the line
8: favorite pairing you wrote for this year:
only a few people know this but I wrote a LOT of adashi. I'm working on a side piece for quintenary stars that focuses on them pre-kerberos, and there are also a handful of adashi-adjacent aus i've been working on including leverage, agents of shield, and rwby. i'm obsessed with them lowkey
9: what work was the quickest to write?
walking out into the dark, cutting out a different path, led by a beating heart was uh. well. i wrote it in a matter of hours in a haze of mental illness in between the promo for 911 s6e11 and the actual episode dropping later that night. for those of you who don't have the context, a character got struck by lightning and subsequently was lingering on the threshold of death in episode 10, and when the promo for 11 dropped we realized there was going to be a coma dream episode in which the character would experience what should have been his Perfect Life but without all the things that led him to where he was, he never would have had an impact on his friends and family, and there would have been disastrous consequences. I distinctly remember skipping out on an entire day of classes because I was writing this fic LMFAO. and to this day I'm still very proud of it. incredible things come from sheer insanity it seems
10: what work took you longest to write?
seeing as quintenary stars is still ongoing, I'll say you're such a heavenly view. i had just watched prince caspian (again) and was feeling insane (as per usual) but it still took FOREVER to get this thang finished </3
11: what's your longest fic of the year?
quintenary stars is currently sitting pretty on 221,491, making it my longest piece of writing ever. which is pretty cool and also kinda scary because bro. bro i have no idea where these words are coming from
12: what's your shortest fic of the year?
buckley siblings !! it was short and sweet. angst and whump. u guys know what i like
13: favorite character you wrote this year?
oogh...i LOVED writing peter's pov in you're such a heavenly view. i actually would love to write more narnia fic someday. and i also love writing in pidge's pov in quintenary stars she is LITERALLY just like me fr
14: what's one pairing you want to explore more next year?
HEITH. i'm not putting them in quintenary stars but BOY do i want to explore their dynamic. and i am also always down for more caspeter
15: how many kudos in total did you get this year?
579!!
16: which work has the most comments?
quintenary stars! which statistically makes sense to me because it's a multichapter and the others this year are oneshots. but the fic that has the most comments overall is hold onto me
17: did you do any collaborative works this year?
nothing posted on ao3, but there was a lot of collaboration going on behind the scenes! the voltron leverage au in particular is a pretty elaborate project @frigidboy and i are working on together, and he's also been my soundboard for a lot of quintenary stars stuff. I've also been collaborating with various members of The Groupchat (@dauntingday, @soleadita, @xandromedan, @moonlightperseus) on various ongoing projects and aus including but not limited to some rwby aus with day, red and 13 stuff with leo, COUNTLESS aus, ocs, and wips with mads, and some leverage stuff with abby. I've also made some zombie apocalypse ocs with @0xy--m0r0n. and there are probably more things I've collabed with people on but I FORGOR </3
18: what's your most common category?
gen and m/m !! I tend to lean more gen with just a touch of romance most of the time, but more often than not my oneshots will be more explicitly romance
19: what do you listen to while writing?
it varies, but most of the time it will be some kind of orchestral/instrumental music. I have a list of favorite compilations on youtube from hans zimmer and some other favorites that I rotate through, and I also have some playlists on spotify for when I'm not as picky. it also depends on what I'm writing at the time: if I'm writing quintenary stars, I will usually go straight to the voltron soundtrack (or other space sci fi like interstellar or gravity) just because I need a specific vibe. and if I'm writing a battle scene, sometimes I'll pull up another tab and put some space battle ambience over the music, too
20: favorite line/passage you wrote this year?
oh god there are SO many favorites. but probably in the coma dream buck fic (walking out into the dark) when I used imagery to draw a connection to the Shooting Scene. like of all the literary things I've pulled over the years I think that one is hands down my favorite
"Shit's crazy here, man," Danny said as he stepped up to the sink beside Evan. "Did you know there was a sniper a few months ago? Some crazy cop was shooting firefighters out in the streets."
A chill ran down Evan's spine, coldness settling in the bottom of his gut.
Danny turned on the faucet.
Water splashed in the bottom of the sink, flung up and out.
Droplets splattered across Evan's face.
"Damn," Evan murmured, raising a shaking hand to wipe it away. "Was anyone killed?"
"One was," Danny said offhandedly. "He got shot right after a call, middle of the street. Nobody even saw it coming.”
Evan was shaking, all over his body. Danny just kept going, like he didn’t even notice.
“His team was trapped by the sniper and by the time they got him pulled out, it was too late.”
Stay there! I’m coming to you!
“The news said his name was Diaz. Eddie Diaz."
Evan dropped the plate he was holding. Shards of ceramic flew in every direction, pinpricks of pain prickling at his legs and bare feet.
Gunshot in the street.
Blood splattered on his face.
Asphalt against his cheek.
Are you hurt?
"Evan?" Danny was looking at him, brows furrowed together. "Are you okay?"
Evan swallowed, took in a shaky breath, nodded. He bent and began to gently gather the broken shards in his palm, but something made him pause.
"Huh."
"What?" Danny was looking at him like he was crazy.
"I'm not bleeding."
And he wasn't. His legs and feet were untouched; smooth, unmarred skin where only seconds before, he'd been so certain he'd felt cuts.
"That's weird," Danny said, before shoving a broom in Evan's hands. "Your mess, your job. You get to finish the dishes."
overall that whole fic was just. probably some of my best work I think. I'm so proud of it fr
21: biggest surprise while writing this year?
i was NOT expecting quintenary stars to get as much engagement as it's been getting!! i feel like everyone's kinda trying to forget voltron ever existed (understandable) so i didn't think there would be much of an audience for it. but there is!!! and i love you guys!!!!!
TAGGING IF U WANNA DO THIS TOO: ppl i've already tagged above, plus @scorchedhearth, @ anyone else who wants to do it !! I'm so sorry I am totally blanking on mutuals/followers/friends who are also writers so if u see this and want to, consider urself tagged !!
#i didnt realize how much i'd written this year until i went through my docs lmao#i was just thinking of the 5 fics ive posted and was feeling kinda bad because i didnt post a lot but damn. i have written a LOT.#anyway this was fun <33#winter speaks#ao3 wrapped#tag games
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Tag game time!!
Thank you Yzz mi amor @fismoll7secinv for the tags (1, 2, 3, 4, 5.)
1) 17 Questions:
Nickname: Cris
Sign: Positive
Height: over 165cm.
Last thing I googled: Archive of our own.
Song stuck in my head: Carolus Rex
No. of followers: ?173 (lmao, I don't think this matters, I only interact with 3 of them.)
Amount of sleep: lately 3 hours per night; but usually 9.
Lucky number: 8
Dream job: mad scientist, mermaid (a real one, to wreck ships and eat men,) a fairy or a witch.
Movies/books that summarize me: Books: Frankenstein, Jane Eyre, Until the end of time, ERHA. Movies: Dancer in the dark, The phan's labyrinth, Mad Max fury road.
Favourite song: lately I've been obsessed with "Con la Brisa," by Foudeqush (YouTube link here <3 this song is so damn pretty!!! also, very unrelated but is quite annoying that some people read it as a romantic song when the lyrics are about someone building a place of peace and light to call home.)
Favorite instrument: Violin (but love the sound of the fagott and the harp.)
Aesthetic: perfume, soft lights, fruits, pearls, and books.
Favourite author: Louise Glück.
Favourite animal noise: The chirp of birds.
Random: 🌊 Espuma blanca que lava el mar, le hiciste cuna de agua y sal, las estrellitas del cielo con nácar peinan su pelo ⭐ Lloran los cielos, aúlla el mar, mueren los sueños en ultramar. 🌒
2) Personality Colour Test & 3) What kind of flower is my love life.
I like being alone, but I'm not an individualist, it's easy for me to engage in conversations and work with others, etc. And yes, I'm often the leader (I like being reliable, efficient, and cold-minded, but also, I'm okay following someone else's lead (if they are worthy.))
Yeah, I struggle with empathy, but I'm no asshole, I'd ask people if I can do something and constantly check on them. Low empathy doesn't mean that I'm not capable of loving or caring.
About the love life... lmao, I'm an extrovert!!!! but dude!!! I'm not talking with the person of my interest, I'm gonna freeze, and act cold around them, sometimes even a little rude (I would hate if they find out, so... just to be sure.)
/// links here and here ///
4) Eight Questions or whatever this is.
3 ships: hualian, beauyasha, dreamling.
First ever ship: honestly I don't remember... probably Sinbad and Eris and growing up Sinbad and Proteous.
Last Movie: Emma 2020 (I'm not a fan of Jane Austen; watched this because of the clothes and well... it didn't disappoint.)
Last Song: Limón y sal by Daniel Sabater and Maria Blaya
Currently Reading: 七爷 Qi Ye.
Currently Watching: Nothing, but been considering to watch Alice in Borderland.
Currently consuming: coffee (DO NOT JUDGE; vanilla, soy milk, and honey.)
Currently craving: A nap or a good night of sleep.
5) Music.
/// template here ///
AND NOW… 🔥😈 tagging the last 13 blogs who left a note 🔥 Please do not feel obligated ✨ lots of love to all of you!! 💖 @birbfeeder2artisticboogaloo // @icarus-suraki // @stareyemoth // @youmaycallmecas // @oneiro-nautical // @azure-prince // @flappyfeet // @sweetcheriwine // @regular-john-16278 // @jadedzer0 // @niphradel // @quilleth // @shooting-the-stars
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Fire Emblem Blazing Sword Primer
Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword is about to drop on NSO for Switch! Known simply as Fire Emblem here, this was the first game to be localized outside of Japan. Twenty years later, the series’s popularity has skyrocketed to heights I could not have ever dreamed of and it’s beautiful.
With all the new blood introduced by Awakening, Three Houses, and even Engage, you might be curious about this entry and want to check it out. This post will serve as a quick guide for getting started.
#1: The tutorial is LONG
I’m not kidding. It’s not like new games where it’s a blip on the screen and then it’s gone. Lyn’s going to be talking the most basic of basics. Remember this was the first game in the series to be released to a western audience, so the training wheels are going to be on for a while. Like, the next 10 chapters. It will drag if you know your shit, but for newbies, I would argue this is the one of the best ways to get acquainted with the series. It will beat the basics into you and help you establish good habits for executing your strategy. Bear with it for the time being, I promise it gets better! In future playthroughs you can disable the tutorial messaging.
#2: Permadeath is on, but NSO rewind is your Turnwheel, so it’s going to be okay.
This was made before Casual Mode or Mila’s Turnwheel Divine Pulse Draconic Time Crystal was a thing, so back in the day if you made an error, you’d either have to live with it or restart the chapter from the beginning. Fuck that, though, it’s 2023 and we have the technology. If you want to relive those days as a challenge, by all means go off, but I won’t be wagging my finger at you if you decide you don’t have time for that shit anymore. Do what you gotta to enjoy this game.
#3 Experience is limited in this game, so make sure you distribute it evenly among your team*
I mean it. For the love of God, don’t funnel it all into Rath. For all the characters you’ll be able to recruit, you’ll only be able to deploy 10-15 per map. Build a strong core, and you’ll be ready for anything the game throws at you.
#4 Pursuant to the above, Marcus is a great unit, but don’t rely on him too heavily.
Newer players might assume Marcus to be a trap unit like Vander at first blush, but he’s a surprisingly decent unit throughout. The issue is that he starts out promoted, meaning he won’t get nearly as much experience on killing an enemy unit as another unit lower in levels will. Efficiency is the word of the day, dear readers. Use Marcus when you need him, but not at the expense of your other characters’ growth. Give him a weaker weapon, bait out the enemies, soften ‘em up, then let the units you want to level finish ‘em off and you’ll have your army up and running like a well-oiled machine.
#5 Double-check enemy ranges
This was sadly before there was a handy dandy button you could push to see the Danger Zone, so be extra mindful when you play. Also, keep in mind that even though the range might display it, only a handful of bosses actually move from where they’re parked.
#6 Get in formation, soldier!
God dammit, stick together. You don’t have Emblem superpowers anymore and enemy reinforcements aren’t as loudly telegraphed in older games as they are now. Building a solid defensive line and being aware of how many enemies can approach a unit at any given time might save your life. Always have at least one buddy!
#7 Always have at least one unit guard Merlinus’s tent
Merlinus is your convoy in this game. If you want to be able to put items into an inventory during a map, you’ll have to deploy him. The caveat is he’s a stationary unit who can’t fight, and while it’s usually not a problem, sometimes IS is cheeky and puts reinforcements by him. This will become less of an issue as the game persists and he promotes, but until then, hang in there.
#8 When you play fog-of-war maps, have your thieves use torches
Thieves have the best vision in night/fog maps, and torches further enhance this, so this is the best bang for your buck.
#9 Weapon weight is tested against CON, similar to Build in Engage
The difference is a unit’s build isn’t something that can grow like in Engage. The only way for a character to get more build is to either promote or use a Body Ring, and those are pretty rare.
#10 As a result of the above, you’re going to be using Iron weapons most of the time.
It’s okay. Most of the time Iron will do the trick.
#11 Conserve Rapier/Wolf Beil/Mani Katti charges when you can, but don’t wait till it’s fucking Christmas to use them
Lyn will get her Mani Katti charges reset after chapter 10 and I think there’s one more of Eliwood’s Rapier or Hector’s Wolf Beil depending on which story you do. You can also get the Hammerne staff that repairs weapons, but it only has three charges.
#12 If possible, wait for a unit to hit level 20 before you promote them.
Since the levels you can get are finite, you’ll need to make the most of your units’ growth rates.
#13 Effective damage is only x2 in this game, not x3 like other games.
It’s still gonna hurt if you make a mistake, but it’s going to make your life harder half the time.
#14 The support system in this game is rough
If you think gathering supports in Engage was painful, you’re in for a rude awakening. The only way to gather support points in Blazing Sword is to have two units end their turn next to each other, and some of them take a lot of turns to trigger. What’s more, each unit can have five support conversations per playthrough (for example, an A support with one character and a B support with another character, or an A or two Cs). This means if you want to collect all the supports, you will need to replay the game several times. As always, hit up Serenes Forest if you want more information on the particulars.
Bonus* #15: Okay, I lied, there is a way to get more experience.
There are arenas on certain maps where units can fight for money, but it’s a risky proposition, considering they can die in there. NSO rewind/save states will mitigate this somewhat, however, and starting on chapter 20E/21H, Ninian will trivialize this.
Her ring, Ninis’ Grace, grants a defense buff for one turn when she dances for a unit. This buff does not go away if a unit is rescued before enemy phase starts. See where I’m going with this?
1) Buff unit with Ninis’ Grace
2) Have them fight in the arena
3) Rescue them once they’re done fighting
4) End turn
5) Have rescuer #2 take/drop unit
6) Heal as necessary
7) Have Ninian do a regular dance
8) Repeat steps 2-7
And there you have it. Blazing Sword is a lovely game and holds a special place in my heart. It’s very much a product of its time, but I still hope y’all enjoy—
Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.
You had one job, Nintendo.
#fire emblem#blazing sword#blazing blade#newbies welcome#Lyn#Eliwood#Hector#Play this damn game when it comes out
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