#I need them to crucify Him next :)

[adamwarlock]

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 (2023) ↳ The Pietà and The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo

[julietsbody]

the last days of judas iscariot — luke castellan + reader : betrayal hurts the saints the most. 

tags : mdni, dark!luke, angry kissing, religious imagery & symbolism, body worship, angst and smut, love confessions, p in v sex, corruption kinks, implied blood kink, hints of cannibalism

there was something off about luke castellan. 

he used to be caring, sweet and selfless— he did everything for the people around them, offered them smiles even if it was difficult on his lips, did anything to ease their pain, built himself up into a saint. but eventually, saints will fall, whether it be their own doing, or a martyrdom. 

this was no martyrdom, he was not crucified, strung up on an olive tree, nor stoned. 

this was a conscious decision that nobody else, besides his own self, would understand. it was so, so unlike him, luke was never one to betray the people around him, well, at least he didn’t portray himself that way. if you really knew luke, you’d know how much he hated the gods, he felt as though he was a despicable creation of theirs, and he’ll return the same despising looks. 

but the story starts days before that, luke was as he always was. he offered you a smile from across the training field, and you returned it full - heartedly, waving at him. he moves to approach you, ignoring his sparring partner, “hey, do you need a partner?” 

you glance around for a second, “don’t you already have one?” 

his lips curve to a smirk, “i’d rather be with you.” 

luke castellan had a thing for flirting with you, even if he was just being a tease, and didn’t entirely mean what he said— sometimes you thought he didn’t, or he never did, but in all honesty, he meant everything. 

he admired you beyond proper comprehension, and you did the same with him. having been friends for years, it was no shock when your gazes would linger on each other for longer than they should, when he would do anything to make you smile even if it costs him his reputation. 

on the first day, luke was as he always was, confident, grinning and sweet. 

then the second day came, and luke’s smiles began to fade faster, he looked more tired, there was a certain mournful air that clung to his skin and radiated off of him. you picked up on it immediately, frowning at him and pulling him off to the side even when he was busy, “are you okay?” 

“what?” his saliva feels thick in his mouth, like globs of nectar that feel poisonous underneath their sweet skin. 

“i said— luke, what’s going on?“ you can’t deny how he seems to be out of order on everything, he was even fighting angrier, too, with a revengeful glint in his eye. 

“i really, really don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“yes, you do.” 

and it only got weirder from there, on the third day, he looked straight up exhausted, like he hadn’t slept the past two nights, and now he was being told to take a break from sword fighting because of how rough he was being. smiles were common from him now but cut off quick, and laughs became rare. he wasn’t trying to make anyone else around him smile or laugh, and he always just looked angry, guilty angry. 

when you waved at him, he didn’t wave back, nor approach you. 

he didn’t want to speak to anyone, so he just didn’t talk. 

he’s suffering from something, you just don’t know what, and whenever you asked him, he shrugged it off with, “i’m just tired.” 

“i know, you look really tired, luke, do you need melatonin?” 

his teeth grit together, and the taste of nectar in his mouth had disappeared, now it was all just bitter poison, “i need to be left alone.” 

“luke—“ 

“please leave me be.” 

if anyone were to ask you now, they’d know you regret leaving that night, not forcing him to speak about it with you. the next night, another camper told you about what luke had done, and you hate the way you don’t feel entirely shocked, not even a little bit, not even at all. 

luke castellan had a fig tree branching out in front of him, so many possibilities, so many stories to be told, and yet his fingers wrapped around the only rotten fruit on the whole ripe tree. two thousand years ago, there was a man exactly like luke, one who went by the name judas, and in luke’s complete distaste of the bible and anything to do with it— he found himself undeniably following the same path of the man who betrayed jesus. 

“ i desire the things

that will destroy me

in the end ”

  — sylvia plath. 

it was a bad idea to seek out luke that night, you knew it well, and luke knew it too when he frowned at you almost immediately after seeing you. he was still in the woods, only alone now, closer to the shore, closer to the riper fig that called his name— the one labeled captain. 

“why are you here?“ his tone is sharper, harsher, but you don’t shy away. 

“why’d you do it?” you watch him visibly swallow at the question, as if he doesn’t want to answer it, even when it’s on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason it would hurt to say out loud. 

he bites the bullet, “you know— the gods, they’re awful, don’t you think they deserve this?“ 

“is that where your heart lies?” the question seems to scorch his skin more than the last, because it’s just a continuous waking to what he’s truly done, how the prophecy haunts him even in his desperate attempts to evade it. 

“i’ve suffered enough, because of them, because of him— so yes, that is where it lies.” 

“you think your suffering is just a one way street?” you pester, anger bubbling in your veins— this was selfish, entirely selfish, he was never the selfless man you once knew, this wasn’t the luke you knew, “it’s not, it wasn’t— you had the chance, luke, to deprive yourself from it.” 

“are you just here to lecture me?” luke’s jaw locks. 

“why are you being like this?” 

luke’s eyebrow twitches, as if he’s mentally debating saying it out loud, but albeit all odds, his lips part, “why don’t you ask that guy you’ve been hanging out with?” 

“what?” it’s hard to realize certain things when you’ve been so focused on one person, you were so caught up on your fears for luke you didn’t even realize that the whole time you were thinking of him, you were blatantly speaking with another man in front of his eyes. 

to the trained eye, they’d know you never had any real feelings for the man you spoke with, but luke was too blinded by his own guilt and resentment that he didn’t realize it himself. it was a wild string of miscommunications formed into a single spider’s web, exactly like judas’ betrayal of jesus. 

INTERLUDE : JUDAS ISCARIOT ( A STUDY ) 

judas iscariot is often portrayed as the traitor in the story, fueled by greed and his resentment that jesus has something he never will. in the original story, judas is put in the narrative as satan’s pawn, judas’ fate is already written down, and he has no way of pushing it back. satan selects him from a group as he is weak, easily moved, and satan had possessed him body and soul and lived out his personal purpose through the vessel. 

the son of perdition : the one doomed to destruction. 

god personally protected all of his other saints from satan, so why not judas? why was judas never enough? was he never righteous enough to be saved? jesus loved him, jesus held his face in his holy hands, and yet he never shielded him. 

judas is a pawn, a thief, a coward, and a denier of the lord. 

judas, in all fairness, is the spitting image of luke castellan. 

“is it ever anybody else, luke?” 

as if arrow met skin, luke’s brows furrow together like you’ve hit him. 

there’s a pause, a deafening silence. 

“i miss you,” you speak again. 

luke’s nose crinkles, “uh-huh.” 

“i miss you, luke.” 

luke castellan is going to hell tonight, he’s going to be scorched in the underworld, so he bites his tongue and he moves in. the kiss is angry, teeth clashing, tongues twisting, lips bruising, but luke wouldn’t want it any other way. he wonders that if, in this kiss, do you forgive him? having been someone praised by the gods, the favored one, did you forgive the one who seemingly betrayed them to most? 

the kiss says how could you? and i’m sorry at the exact same time. 

his hands are quick to grip on your skin like you were his lifeline, tugging you in closer, and smiling against your lips when you melt into his touch so easily. you knew how cruel of a man he was, all the things he did wrong, all the people he had hurt— and yet you’re easing against him like he’s a saint. 

his teeth show his hunger well, nipping at your lip until you hiss and pull away with blood bubbling from a fresh wound. at first, he wants to smile, but he finds some mercy, moving his hand to hold your chin, thumb smudging the blood, “‘m sorry, didn’t mean to, swear.” 

you knew he was lying, you knew he wanted to see you bleed, he liked the way your skin trembled under his touch, the way that even when shock dilates your pupils— you don’t want to pull away from him. in fact, something about it is oddly attractive to you, how sick is that. 

his other hand grips your waist, fingers curling cruelly, “could i..” 

undress you? touch you? luke isn’t sure of the proper words, they sit on the tip of his tongue, but something has him too afraid to say it so bluntly. that’s ironic, considering he didn’t hesitate to steal and lie. luke was still the loser he’s always been, deep down, he’s never known how to actually speak to women. 

you knew this well, it was something you always made fun of him for, but now you only smile sweetly at him. “of course, luke.” 

luke’s hands are desperate when they move to take off your clothes, quick and ruthless, but still so caring at the same time. it was confusing with luke, everything he did had two different sides that would merge together in an unlikely unison. harsh and gentle, bitter and sweet, mean and kind. 

his brows furrow when he dips in, pressing his lips to the skin of your neck, pushing you back into the scratching bark of the tree behind you. adam and eve, right after the bites of the apple offered to them. luke wants to sink his teeth into you, to bite until he draws blood, to devour you whole and call you his. 

that’s… normal, right? 

he doesn’t care, he’s only focused on the shallow breaths that pass by your lips with every scrape of his teeth on the skin being pulled between his lips. his fingers lead themselves further, dipping below the waistband of your underwear and further until you’re gasping and gripping at his wrist. 

“luke.. luke,” you plead, whimpering out for his fingers to have some mercy on your clit— luke ignores you, focused on the pleasure that’s coursing underneath your skin. he memorizes the thump of your pulse against his lips on your neck, the way it speeds up when his fingers dare to graze your entrance. you want it so bad, and it’s taking everything in luke to not be a cocky asshole about it. 

he eventually pulls away from your neck to admire his work, “have you always wanted me to touch you like this?” 

there’s something so poetic about someone who has betrayed the gods you love the most, ruining you. you truly could be awarded for how much you worshiped them, so unlike to everyone around you. they thought their parents were like anybody else, albeit just a little cooler, but you— you felt like a prophet. 

maybe you were, maybe luke was. 

maybe when the oracle whispered the prophecy she mentioned the fall of a saint, and the way he tugged another down with him. 

you look at him fondly, lips parted and puffy from biting, “always.. please.” 

please ; a simple plea, but it makes luke grin like a devil. his eyes follow your hands when you move to undo his belt, tugging at his jeans as if his fingers aren’t making your knees buckle. luke licks his lips, and finally allows you some mercy when his fingers leave your underwear, although you frown from the loss of friction. “i’ll make it up to you, yeah?” 

luke’s boxers and jeans are falling to the floor in seconds, he stifles a chuckle at your shocked expression to his size, only growing cockier and cockier with each second of this ordeal. it reaches it’s peak when he’s pushing into you, hand on your thigh holding up your leg with ease. 

his nose brushes against your cheek, whispering sweet nothings in between faint grunts with each thrust. you’re so pretty, always dreamed of this, better pray the gods aren’t watching. the last comment should piss you off, but it doesn’t, not at all— in fact, it only makes you wetter, the idea that the people you have given everything for are watching you being fucked by someone who despises them. 

his free hand moves up to your neck, wrapping around the bruised skin there, and gripping it enough to barely constrict your air flow. 

due to the choking, and the force of his thrusts, along with all his taunting words, it doesn’t take long for you to cum on his dick— and he doesn’t last long either. 

he finds himself panting against you, slowly pushing out. 

“you really should pray for forgiveness.” 

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1328

Chapter 44:

The vine around your neck kept pulling you away, the struggle to fight it without your magic proving worthless, and yet you kept trying.

Hearing Agatha's screams of pain as she also tried to fight off Rio was driving you mad, but as the sun covered the moon fully, you were left powerless to act.

Eventually, the vine came to a halt, your head pressed against the wooden fence separating Agatha's House from the house right next to it.

Suddenly, more vines spread from the ground; wrapping around your wrists and your ankles, keeping you in an almost crucified position.

You tried to pull them again, and you had to bite your lip, feeling the pain coming from the thorns protruding from the green plants. They were never meant to kill you, just harm you enough when you tried to fight them.

The position alone did not help. A position you had once found excitement now only brought fear. That fear was not for you, though.

It was for Agatha.

It was the fear that you would once again fail to help her. The fear that Rio would harm her until Agatha gave in... the fear that you would be a spectator to this sadistic show of power between the two former lovers.

As if your desperation and need for help had been manifested by the universe, you felt a tingling sensation of magic approaching; for a moment, you wondered if the newcomer was an ally or a foe

You looked up, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of Billy in full costume, crown, and power; flying towards you.

All questions about how he got control over them or how he found you got thrown out of the window, hope flattering within your chest; a proof that you could somehow still win this.

"Billy!" You called him out, a tired smile forming.

"Y/N," he exclaimed as he stopped levitating, noticing you trapped by the vines.

Before he could question why you were trapped and not fighting, you interrupted him.

"Help, Agatha!" You shouted at him above the winds. He tried to argue, hesitating, but once again, you did not leave him. "I will be fine! Help her!"

With hesitation, he nodded and flew towards Agatha; readying his powers to blast Rio away from the magicless witch.

The fact that he was now present was a good thing, but it did little to ease worry growing inside of you. No matter how powerful he truly was, he was still a child; untrained.

And Rio... she was an undefeated force, one that could never truly die.

You wanted to help, and so you tried to fight the vines holding you hostage once again. The thorns dug deep into your skin, drawing blood, and yet you used that pain to fuel your attempts.

Defeat was slowly crawling in, and you were so close to giving up, feeling helpless. As you did that you barely noticed, the eclipse was over, and slowly, the first rate of moonlight had started to appear.

'Please,' you begged into your mind. 'Please help me save them'.

You continued mentally praying, hoping whatever ethereal power was out there would feel pity for you.

In that moment of helplessness, you could help but think back to all those years... to en era when you never felt that way.

The first time was back in Salem. You were a child no older than six years old, and yet your powers could surpass the powers of most witches. When you were a child , you never fet helpless, and you always took pride in what you could do.

Then they started criticising you, warning you that you were out of control. They started putting fear in your mind, telling you that without some self awareness, you would harm someone.

And when you actually did harm someone, when you actually started to hold back; you started to forget just how powerful truly were.

Only one person, back then, had tried to change that... Agatha.

You were both teenagers, sitting under a weeping willow. Side by side, you rested your head on her shoulder; fingers interlocked.

In your free hand, you held a flower you had plucked on your way to meet her, and you spun it around between your thumb and index finger.

That day was her birthday, and you had chosen to meet, only for you to confess to Agatha how you felt lately; that growing fear that you would truly harm someone with your powers.

Evanora's pressure on you, to harm and end Agatha,had definitely not helped ease your worries or feel better bout yourself... and your powers.

"You shouldn't listen to them,"she commented as her thumb caressed your skin."You shouldn't hold back for anyone."

"And what if i harm someone?" You looked at her. "What if I harm you?"

Agatha pecked your nose. The now 18 year old always chose to peck you there when younger and you were nervous. Even though, now, you were almost 16, she bever stopped.

"I trust you. I know you never would, no matter how powerful you become."

How many times did Agatha support you? Did she keep telling you to stop holding back? To stop being afraid?

How many times did Rio hold a similar stance?

"You shouldn't be afraid of your powers," she had commented one day after sering you hesitating casting a spel.

"I am not afraid, I am self-aware. There is a difference," you had argued, even though you did not believe it yourself.

"Right, and I don't show up where corpses are." She sat behind you, her longer legs trapping you within them as they spread on each side of you. "You are different than the rest, so why deny yourself that?" Her hands were placed above yours, magic subconsciously reacting; causing an exciting sense of thrill and faint pain. "Why hold back?"

A new memory flashed into your minds, the voice of a woman you did not expect to bring up in such a dire situation.

"Stop holding back. Face your fear."

Lilia had told you those words just before she left you go into the iron maiden. She could have told you anything else, knowing you would never mert again and yet... she chose those words because she knew something more, she had seen it.

The sound of fighting was faintly reaching your ears, reminding you that while you were laying there; contemplating about your life... Agatha and Billy were fighting for theirs.

You should have been there, helping them. You should be by Agatha's side as you promised, do something different compared to all those times you didn't.

And then it hit you.

This was a trial, and it was your trial.

All those times you have chosen to step back, to hold back your power... you potential , your love for Agatha.

There was only one way to end this, to truly honour your promise and be by her side...

And so you took a deep breath, concentrating as you felt the weak rays of moonlight upon your skin. You concentrate harder than ever, digging deep into your magic core. You tried to remember the power you always had, but you were always afraid of it.

Eyes close tightly during your attempt, a tear escaping and rolling on your cheek as you went deeper... and deeper.

The right hand, the very same one branded with the moonmark, wrapped around the vine holding it trapped and with one last effort you've started to summon on your magic in your hand; using it to burn the very same vine holding you hostage.

As you felt your power spreading across your body, burning your restraints... you didn't celebrate in triumph or clapped in joy.

Instead, you fought harder and harder to release it, barely registering the white light engulfing your body, giving you a boost you had never felt before as you finally.

Stopped. Holding. Back.

Chapter 45

[fantasticfourthwingimagines]

When It First Took Hold Pairing - Dain Aetos x RiorsonSister!Reader Summary - You're so worried about challenges starting next week that you can't sleep. So instead you decide to sneak out and try and get some practice in the gym. Unfortunately, your wingleader catches you out after curfew. Word Count - 1.4k Warnings - None!

It was one of the nights where the world refused to be quiet. You tossed and turned for hours in the barracks, every single sound, from the wind rattling the windows, soft laughter, moans echoing from the far end of the barracks, kept you from the sleep you were longing for. When the moon was high in the sky, you realized you couldn’t take it any longer. You glanced over beside you, but Sloane didn’t seem to have the same problem, since she was sound asleep. You slipped your cloak around your shoulders and crept out, quiet as a shadow, not even sure where your feet were taking you until you ended up at the gym. 

Challenges started next week, and you knew all the eyes that mattered would be on you. Your squad, the other marked ones who were already looking for a reason to crucify you since you had gotten to live such a “extravagant” life with no relic compared to themselves . . . Everyone was waiting for you to fall on your face, and you couldn’t let it happen. You couldn’t disappoint Xaden who was already pissed off you were here in the first place, and you didn’t want to disappoint Violet who you were sure was reporting back to him with how you were doing. That meant you had to be better, and that meant you needed more practice. 

The problem was, it was hard to practice sparring when there was no one to spar with. You resigned yourself to using the punching bag to practice your hits and kicks, but didn’t feel like you were getting anything out of it. In fact you felt more frustrated than when you started. 

“You’re out after curfew, cadet.” 

Shit. You turned, pushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes and meeting your wingleader’s gaze. Once again, you questioned why the man you were supposed to hate had to look like that. Dain Aetos’s eyes were dark in the dim lighting of the gym, but his gaze dipped for the briefest second, down your form and back up again, and you couldn’t tell if it was judgment or something else that made the tips of your ears burn. Something about his presence always seemed to rob the breath from your lungs, but it had to be the exercise you were doing, right? “Well . . . So are you. Doesn’t that cancel me out or something?” 

He was not amused. “Get your ass to bed Riorson.” 

“No! I - I can’t.” You said, panic creeping into your tone against your will. 

Dain’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t speak. He waited, like he knew you weren’t done yet. 

Before you realized what you were doing or why, you were blurting out your fears. “Challenges start on Monday, and I don’t want to let the squad down. I suck Aetos. Aaric is a natural, Sloane . . . doesn’t want to try. I only got a few weeks of combat training, and no one is helping me. I can’t - fuck, I can’t give people more reasons to hate me by being bad at this.” 

Something flickered across Dain’s face, quick and unreadable, but it didn’t look like scorn. He stepped closer to you, “All the marked ones were trained-”

You tugged the neckline of your shirt down, exposing smooth, unmarked skin. “Don’t have a mark. My mother smuggled me out to Poromiel when things started turning ugly. Easy to do since she was a Poromish citizen. Not much Navarre could do.” You caught the faint flush on his cheeks, but said nothing. Instead, you turned back to the punching bag. “Marked ones know who I am, and I’ve spent the majority of my life thinking I’d be accepted by them when I got here only to learn they all can’t stand me because they think I got off easy.” You threw a punch that hurt more than it should. “Do you know how it feels when the people you thought were your family, the people you spent a lot of your childhood with, fucking hate you?” 

He was so quiet, if you hadn’t been able to feel his gaze on your back, you would have thought he left. Then he was right behind you, taking up way too much space. “You’re going to break your wrist if you keep throwing punches like that.” 

“I - what?” You blinked at him, the shift from emotional spiral to sparring advice short-circuiting your brain. 

“And you’re aiming your hits in the wrong spot. The straighter the punch the better. You’re going to do a lot better aiming for the jugular-” His fingers brushed the surface just inches from yours, and your breath caught, not from nerves, but from the warmth of his proximity. “- than the face.” 

Okay, that made sense, but your head was clouded in confusion. Was Dain Aetos, your brother’s number one hater, trying to help you? “What are you doing?” 

He took a deep breath. “You said no one was helping you. It’s my responsibility as your wingleader -” 

“Bullshit.” You interrupted. “I’m nothing to your wing until I make it through threshing and manifest a signet. What. Are. You. Doing?” Gods this better not be pity. That wasn’t what you wanted. In fact you didn’t think you’d be able to stand it from him. 

Dain stared at you, an expression in his eyes that you could almost describe as . . . Understanding. “I do.” His voice was quieter now. “I know how it feels when people you thought you knew look at you like you’re something they don’t even recognize.” 

Suddenly, you knew. The way he and Violet were with each other. You had heard whispers about the two of them, and then the way Violet spoke to him on the parapet . . . Her words about not letting him touch you swam back in your mind. “Aetos-”

You saw the exact second the door slammed shut behind his eyes. Whatever softness had cracked through was now gone. “Let’s go. A few rounds, then kicks. You want to survive next week, right?” 

As much as you hated to admit it, you knew Dain was a good fighter, and you’d be stupid not to accept his help. So you did. Of course, his definition of “a few rounds” was a damn lie. By the time you moved on to kicks, sweat was pouring off you like rain. 

“Spread your legs.” 

You couldn’t help it. It had to be the lack of brain function due to the stress of exercise. It was the only logical explanation to why your thoughts immediately went to Dain saying those words to you in another situation, shirtless, that intense gaze locked on you once more. Shocked that the thought had even dared cross your mind, you shook it off like a physical thing, hoping it hadn’t somehow broadcast itself. “I - what?” You said, thankful for how much you were exercising because you were sure it was helping hide the flush in your cheeks. 

Thankfully, Dain took no notice of your weirdness, moving from behind the punching bag to behind you, his boots kicking your legs further apart. 

Great. Another mental image to shake out of your head. 

“It’ll help with your balance. Just make sure you’re centered-” You saw his hands start to rise toward your waist, then pause mid-air, fingers flexing like he was caught between instinct and caution. A moment later, they dropped back to his sides. “-between both of them.” He carried on like nothing had happened. 

But you’d never been good at letting things go. “Aetos,” you didn’t mean for your voice to sound that soft.. “Why did Violet tell me not to let you touch me?” 

Looking at him over your shoulder, you could see the conflict in his eyes, the pain that was too much for him to hide, and for a moment you . . . felt sorry for him. Then it was gone, replaced with the sternness you had seen when he first walked in. “It’s getting late. You need to get to bed, cadet.” Without another word, Dain Aetos started walking to the door. 

You stood frozen, already kicking yourself for asking. Why the hell did you have to ruin it? He was helping. He was helping. Of course you had finally gotten help, and then fucked it up. You pulled your shirt up, wiping some of the sweat from your face. 

“If you want some more help . . .” 

Your head snapped up. He was still at the door, facing you, cheeks flushed in a way that had nothing to do with exertion. 

Maybe you weren’t the only one flustered tonight. 

“I’ll be here tomorrow night at around the same time.” 

Swallowing, you nodded at him. “Thank you.” You whispered, but he seemed to hear you fine, nodding back at you and walking out the door. 

You really needed to figure out why everyone hated him - 

Because so far, all he’d done was help you. 

And leave you a little breathless.

[decaffeinatedpartymuggoop]

Something something PJO and themes of responsibility. Specifically with Bianca and Percy.

Idk I just think it’s funny how, in TTC, you have Bianca, who has been responsible for Nico for FOREVER. Has had to raise him like the mother they never got to keep. Has had the weight of having to raise him for as long as she can remember. She’s taking care of a child when she’s only a child herself. Discovers she’s a demigod, and is FINALLY given an out. And out to leave her responsibilities, even tho she’d have to abandon her only family.

And then we watch Percy go through the EXACT same dilemma in the next book! Staying with Calypso WAS his out! He’s been living with the weight of the prophecy since he was 12, and while he doesn’t exactly know the details, he knows something horrible is going to happen once he reaches 16. Idk how y’all feel, but that’s a lot to have been dealing with since the age of 12. But, he’s finally getting a way to escape his horrible fate! The only catch is essentially abandoning his friends and family.

And you know what dragged them in? The lack of responsibility! The idea of having that heavy weight being lifted! In ttc, it’s not immortality that finally pulls Bianca in, it’s the prospect of being surrounded by people who wouldn’t need to depend on her so heavily. THAT is the reason Bianca joined the Hunt. Percy calls Calypso his biggest what is because what if he STAYED. What if he stayed and was no longer the prophecy child? What if he got to live his life free of responsibilities and worries on her island? What if it didn’t have to be him. THAT is his biggest what if.

They both crave some sort of normalcy SOO bad. And at this point, the closest thing to that is being an immortal in a hunt/ on an island.

In the end, they both made separate choices. Bianca joined the hunt. Percy left the island.

These two get a LOT of backlash for these particular plot points. Bianca was practically crucified for abandoning Nico, and Percy is so hated for calling Calypso his biggest what if people disregard his BOTL characterization entirely. But, imagine you’ve had SOOO much pressure on you for so long. You wouldn’t at least be a bit tempted when an exist is being served on a silver platter?

[kamaluhkhan]

GUILTY AS SIN?

GLUTTONY — part vi of we'll write sins not tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 3k summary: after a mission gone wrong, you unknowingly take the fall for a friend; you get drunk with the enemy; and you start to think that, if they’re going to crucify you anyway, you might as well indulge in a few fatal fantasies. warnings: set during the last olympian so spoilers for the entire pjo book series; luke + reader get drunk; mention of death + war + reader has some survivor's guilt; smut (unprotected p in v, oral f receiving, kinda sub!luke, brief allusion to knife kink — 18 + MDNI) + angst author's note: not sure how i feel ab this one but i've been workshopping it for weeks so i think her time has come !! also maybe got a bit too deep into book lore oops. also also ive been listening to this song an outrageous amount and i hope i did it justice ANYWAYS lmk what y'all think, thanks sm for reading ♥

♪ "guilty as sin?" by taylor swift

you’re well aware of how suspicious this looks, rendezvousing with the enemy at a sleazy dive bar in the heart of the city. 

he walks in, and your heart starts to beat faster in anticipation. his familiar deep brown eyes are now striking gold, and a streak of gray is woven through his signature dark curls — evidence of the battles you've fought, on opposite sides, and an ominous reminder of a war that has yet to be over. 

as he casually orders himself a drink and one for you, you keep a hand on your concealed dagger. it’s become an instinct of yours, whenever he’s around.

“i didn’t come here to fight.” he assures, catching the glint of your blade. 

“and what about…..” you gesture broadly at him. 

“we’re not entirely synched yet, so it gives him a break whenever i’m in full control,” he explains as though reciting from a textbook (something like how to betray your loved ones and overthrow the olympians 101). “it’s only me tonight. i swear on the river styx.”

a shiver passes through you.

about a year ago, luke tracked you down in new york. apparently, kronos was pushing him to do something extreme, and luke felt conflicted. 

you thought it had to be some sort of cruel joke, because you could not think of anything more extreme than what luke had already done in facilitating a war between gods and titans. you had no patience for his crocodile tears, not after he played you so well the first time. 

you told him as much, then told him to fuck off. 

to be fair, you didn’t know that would lead to him bathing in the river styx and becoming a vessel for the titan lord himself.

luke wears the curse of achilles well: all strong muscles and sharp angles, his tan skin glowing ever-so slightly, and his body devoid of any fresh cuts or bruises despite surviving an explosion just a few days prior. 

“so….what? you’re the pilot whenever kronos needs to take a really long nap?” 

“i’d say timeshare is the closest way to describe it.” 

“50/50 ownership?”

“more like 90/10.”

you scoff. “sounds like a scam.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up in amusement. it reminds you so much of old times, his boyish charm peeking through whenever a camper would try to pull a prank on him, and then complain when he’d beat them to the punch. 

“it’s just me,” he repeats, but you didn’t need any more confirmation.

you know deep in your gut, from that mischievous smirk alone: it’s not the lord of time, but luke castellan next to you.

the bar is surprisingly busy for a weeknight. there’s a game being shown on TV, and people wearing sports jerseys occasionally groan or cheer or come to the counter to order another pint for their table while keeping their eyes glued to the screen. the jukebox in the corner plays music from the 70s and 80s as a group of friends starts to dance, tipsy after a deadly combination of jello shots and sangria.

for the first few drinks, you and luke are silent, letting these sounds of regular human existence fill the space between you. you half-expect him to ask about law school admissions, or the new tattoo you got on your upper thigh, or your band’s latest show — all fragments of your own mundane mortal life used to distract yourself from demigod realities. 

he doesn’t, though. luke just stares at the hockey game, one you know for a fact he doesn’t care about because the rangers aren’t playing, as he sips his old-fashioned like he has all the time in the world. 

“did you wanna meet so we could just sit here in silence or….”

when you had agreed to this meeting, you had a clear goal in mind: find out who the spy is and clear your name.

it might be too much rum or the crushing weight of recent events, but you no longer have the energy nor the drive to be strategic or even cautious around luke. now, you’re looking for a cure to your bone deep boredom and heartache.

"no. i’m here because….” he falters and runs a hand through his hair. “look, i heard about what happened at camp. and, with beck —” 

“dying?” you finish, taking one last gulp of your drink. all the rage, resentment and grief you’ve been feeling has been lodged in your throat. you’d hope each sip of your dark and stormy would burn through it, but instead it comes tumbling from your lips. 

“honestly, beck would probably still be alive if you didn’t join the dark side. i guess you’re kinda leading the dark side now, aren’t you luke? what’s that like?” 

luke polishes off his drink, too, his cheeks flushed. he gestures at the bartender for a third round of drinks. or is it fourth? 

“don’t be a dick,” luke sighs once a replenished glass is placed in front of him. “i obviously never wanted to hurt you — any of you.”

if you were of sober mind, maybe you’d point out that it’s too late; that luke already hurt all of you the minute he decided to side with kronos.

“i know i did, though,” he adds after swallowing a mouthful of his drink. 

you know that if luke was of sober mind, he would never have admitted that. he seems to know better than to apologize though, hopefully recognizing that the damage has already been done. 

it’s not like your hands aren’t bloody, too. 

“it was supposed to be me, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “i was supposed to go with percy on the mission, but beck offered to go instead because he thought — he knew — that it would….it would be hard for me to see…. you.”

luke pauses and turns away from you. “you couldn’t have known what would happen.” his voice wavers, too. “beckendorf was looking out for you — it’s what he does. did.”

“i couldn’t even go to the funeral,” you continue. “i feel like i didn’t really get to say goodbye, you know?”

 “yeah,” luke hums sorrowfully. “mourning someone who fought for the gods isn’t really allowed where i am.”

again, you could point out the irony in what he’s saying. given everything he’s done, luke dug his own grave and clearly some for his friends, too. 

tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. the reality is that one of your best friends died because you couldn’t handle an encounter with your ex-boyfriend, the one you’re currently sitting beside. 

you might not have done what they accused you of, but you’re nowhere near innocent. who were you to give yourself permission to cry?

in the dim neon light, you notice a tear slide down luke’s cheek before he wipes it away just as fast.

he clears his throat. “to charles beckendorf: a hero by any other name.”

you tap your glass against luke’s, and you both drink in honor of your lost friend. you drink to everyone and everything you’ve lost, too. 

beckendorf is dead; chris has lost his mind; clarisse might start her own war with the apollo cabin over a flying chariot; and ever since the princess andromeda mission went terribly wrong, silena can’t go one minute without bursting into tears. 

it was too easy for everything to fall apart, as though this was always what the fates had in store for you — the next generation of greek tragedies. 

thankfully, there always comes a break in the tragedy, and it seems to be now: you and luke, getting drunk off whiskey and rum and old memories. 

you remember countless times sneaking out to the beach after curfew, mixing store-brand soda with cheap alcohol smuggled into camp by luke’s half-brothers; hot summer nights spent fantasizing about existence outside of camp and returning to your head counselor duties in the morning with chiron and mr. d none the wiser. once you started dating, it became routine for the two of you to wander away from the group for some privacy, somewhere far enough away so that no one could hear you scream luke’s name.

those memories still make your skin flush, even as you’re here drinking cocktails at a bar in the city, with one friend gone to elysium and everyone else calling you a traitor.

“i can’t believe you don’t remember that night! mr. d caught a few senior campers getting drunk in his office? they stole a super expensive bottle of wine, threw up all over the carpet, and had to spend the rest of the night cleaning it?” 

you continue shaking your head. you tip your glass back to capture the last drops of amber liquid before confessing:  

“what i remember is spending the whole night jealous of malcolm pace because he got to slow dance with you.”

luke lets out something between a scoff and a laugh, then he’s silent for a few moments.

“i love this song,” luke muses, words blurring together. “i haven’t heard it in a while.” he finishes his drink and sets the glass down, holding his hand out to you. 

your brain is a bit foggy from all the alcohol, so it takes you a few seconds to realize what he’s asking. 

“you wanna dance?”

“yeah,” he answers. “make up for lost time.”

it’s not until you feel luke’s chest pressed against yours, his hands firmly on your waist, that you register what song is currently playing.

“downtown lights” by the blue nile — luke had spent so long trying to find the right song for your first time together. 

you told him not to worry, teased him a bit for planning every detail so meticulously, but deep down, your heart swelled with how much he cared.

the empty hermes cabin during capture-the-flag, both of you pretending to be too injured from sparring practice to play. luke’s sweaty hands fumbling with the condom, you having to step in and rip the wrapper with your teeth. clothes being haphazardly thrown on so you could run back to the infirmary before anyone noticed. silent vows to do it again, and again, and again. 

the more time spent exploring and experimenting, the more you got the rhythm of each other’s bodies, knew how to make the other squirm and throw their head back in pleasure — and that didn’t just go away when luke joined kronos’ army. 

even when your loyalties were more clear, your consciousness was plagued with visions of you and luke together, ones that left your sheets burning, more than the blazing summer heat. you confided in silena about these once, and she assured you that there is no such thing as bad thoughts. 

she did warn you, though: it’s when you indulge in these fantasies that they risk becoming fatal.

now, thinking back and forth between memories with luke and the events of this past very shitty week, you realize that maybe that’s why you’re here.

despite everything you’ve done, you supposedly betrayed people you consistently fight beside, fight for; you were thrown out of a place you once considered home and told never to come back. 

you were doomed from the start — a daughter of nemesis, assumed to be wicked and revenge-seeking since birth. 

well, if they’re going to crucify you anyway…..

once the song ends, you ask:

“you wanna go outside for a smoke?”

your hands start playing with the curls at the base of luke’s neck, hinting at what you were hoping comes next.

luke licks his lips, gold eyes darker than before. 

“guess you’re itching to put that celestial bronze to good use,” he says lowly.

“only if you ask nicely,” you drawl. 

luke blushes. 

you pull away from him, start walking towards the back exit, and pray that he follows you. 

—

this is why meeting with you was dangerous: there’s no one else in the world – god, titan, or otherwise – luke castellan would get on his knees for, let alone in the filthy alley behind a bar.  

technically, kronos sent luke here to recruit you. 

the scythe charm — the one used to communicate with silena — sits heavy in his pocket. it’s part of the reason why you were exiled from camp, why your friends don’t look at you the same way. why you can’t ever go back home, not really. 

luke imagines you might resent those who threw you out of camp, but you would never betray them. he knew that you weren’t likely to join kronos’ army.

he’s thankful that, at the very least, you still have a penchant for breaking some rules. 

the two of you are a tangled mess of teeth and tongue. luke tastes the spiciness of ginger beer and rum, mixed with sweetness from the clove cigarette you just smoked. you lock one leg around luke’s hip, and the brief glimpse of your lacy black underwear has him throbbing. one of your hands slips underneath his shirt to trace the contours of his abdomen. luke’s breath hitches when your hand reaches down even further. 

“wait –” you pause your actions to let luke finish his sentence, and already he regrets voicing his hollow concern. “i….i probably should not be doing this.”

“me neither,” you concede, breathing steadily.“but, they already think i’m guilty.”  with your other hand, your thumb dances over his kiss-swollen lips and luke feels something ignite in the pit of his stomach. “maybe i am, with how much i think about you.”

luke knows what’s at stake for him, if anyone finds out, but in a booze-soaked haze and with you looking at him like that, he can’t seem to care. 

it’s coming back to him now: that endless cycle of waking up sticky and drenched in sweat over dreams of screaming your name and going about his day like it wasn’t a paradox to be leading kronos’ army and still wanting someone aligned with the enemy to devour him. 

when he agreed, however reluctantly, to be a vessel for kronos, luke had to lock those desires inside a vault deep inside his mind. 

this might very well be luke’s last chance to satisfy his cravings, once and for all. tonight, he’s in full control of his body and mind. 

he’ll happily yield his power to you. 

soon enough, your teeth gnaw on his top lip as luke messily thrusts into you, your underwear hastily pushed to the side. he tries to savor every part of this, of you — the heel of your combat boot digging into his back; the sting of your nails where you grip him; the familiar scent of your skin, sickly sweet cherries and burnt vanilla; the hoarseness of your voice, encouraging him to go faster, harder. following your orders, luke wraps both of your legs around his waist and digs his fingers further into your hips to keep them secure.

it’s a religious experience, watching you throw your head back against the brick wall as your orgasm crashes through you. luke follows a few seconds later, pulling out just in time to paint the inside of your thighs with his cum.

luke grins as he watches you come down from your high, eyes closed, chest heaving, neck engraved with the outline of his teeth.

“sorry, didn’t mean to give you a concussion.”

you open your eyes just to roll them at luke, who’s tucking himself back into his jeans.

“you’re such an asshole,” you jest through labored breaths, registering his shit-eating grin. you fix the hem of your leather skirt and pout dramatically. “and you had to leave a mess behind, didn’t you?”

without another word, luke kneels in front of you. 

he leans his head back to admire how your lips curl into a bemused smile at his antics. your fingers press into his pulse point, no doubt feeling how reckless his heartbeat becomes underneath you. once more, your thumb prods at his lips; this time luke grants access, the cold metal of your ring burning on his tongue. 

“is this how you pledged loyalty to your titan king?” you taunt. 

luke shakes his head, still sucking your digit. 

he did have to bow, but not like this. the only entity he’d worship this desperately is you. 

“i’m honored,” you coo. luke bites back a whimper when you remove your thumb from his mouth, instead tracing the scar on his face, up his cheekbone. “i have to say though: i miss your brown eyes, pretty boy.”

his whole body is on fire with how you touch him, but your passing observation feels like a knife to the gut. wanting to be good for you, to prove he’s still your pretty boy, luke pushes up the bottom of your skirt so it bunches around your waist. 

“luke!” you attempt to scold, concealing a moan when his teeth graze your clit through the damp fabric of your underwear. “someone might see.”

“it’ll be fine, baby,” he assures. “is this new?” luke is mesmerized by the fresh ink on your thigh, fingers trailing over swirling black lines. 

you hum, a goddess gazing down on her disciple. “do you like it?”

luke nods. he replaces his fingers with his tongue, journeying across your skin, tasting salty sweat mixed with his cum drying between your legs. he hears your whimpers for more. he complies and plunges two fingers beneath the lace until you reach your peak. luke places one last kiss to your core, before getting up again.

you crash your lips onto his, and you’re kissing him the way you did back when you really loved him, chaotic and feverish. your fingers snake through his curls, and you tug on them just enough to make luke’s head spin. 

you’re somehow more intoxicating than however many drinks he downed earlier.

he sees something simmering behind your eyes, when you ask if he wants to come back to your apartment. you both know you shouldn’t, but honestly — in the grand scheme of things, what’s one more sin?as the two of you are tangled beneath your bedsheets, you decide to frame it differently, as a mutual vow: maybe just one more time will satisfy this hunger.

[phylliecheesesteak]

My Kwazii Headcanons

-26 (that one's canon)

-English, specifically from London (His dad and granddad's side) and Japanese-Malaysian (his mom's side).

-transmasc

-Also gay (NOT FOR BARNACLES)

-Kwazii's father, Calico Jack's son, is named Whiskers Jack. So, following Malaysian tradition (middle name is father's given name), That makes Kwazii's full name Kwazii Whiskers Jack. He got the name Kwazii from his mom, who named him from the word Kawaii, which of course means cute. Can you tell he's a beloved only child yet?

-We know why he wears the eyepatch, but I headcanon that the eyepatch was a 5th birthday gift from Calico Jack before he left for the Amazon.

-He's 5 '7", and very ashamed of that fact, because his dad is 5 '11" and his Granddad is 6 '1".

-Kwazii is the best driver on the Octopod, but that was the only reason he was named Co-captain. in reality, Tweak would take over Barnacles' duties, because she is far more responsible, and Barnacles trusts her more. If Barnacles were to ever be incapacitated, Kwazii would only be responsible for the driving part.

-Kwazii met Barnacles when he was 16, after helping Barnacles stop a group of poachers without question. They've known each other for a decade, one of the longest relationships on the ship, but Kwazii still manages to be the third youngest Octonaut.

-Barnacles is like a "grown-older-brother-middle school-younger-brother" type relationship with Kwazii.

-Kwazii wears a hand-made Samping with his uniform. His mom gifted him the Samping when he joined the Octonauts as an 'i'm proud of you' gift. He will turn the gup around if he forgets to put it on, because he has a weirdly accurate superstition that he'll get hurt without it on.

-Kwazii has ADHD, and as such Kwazii is banned from coffee. Barnacles and Inkling are always the first there, and Kwazii hasn't gotten past them for the past decade on the Octopod.

-Kwazii has a major sweet tooth. He eats way more sugar than he should, but he has a fast metabolism, so it just makes him faster when he needs to run. He also has cavities, and doesn't listen to Peso's many warnings to stop eating so much sugar. He just cant resist.

-Kwazii has abandonment issues (thanks alot Calico Jack), and because of them he makes stupid decisions and goes first in everything, just so if he's alone, he knows it was his fault. It doesn't make the guilt feel much better when he's alone, but it helps lessen the feeling of abandonment. He's also just not good at listening, or sitting still.

-He doesn't like fish biscuits alone-it's just not stimulating enough. He usually eats them with tuna, but he'll eat it with avocado if Dashi's around.

-The chip taken out of his ear came from the poachers attack 10 years ago. it's just a small chip now, and the scar tissue is almost entirely gone.

-Kwazii has the best vision on the ship, and is also the fastest in running speed. When Barnacles, Tweak, and Kwazii team up, they're practically unstoppable.

-Kwazii is like an older brother figure to Peso, and takes great pride in that role. They spend their free time together playing Jenga, and somehow Peso always wins. And Kwazii will always claim he bumped the table.

-Kwazii regularly sharpens his claws, and sometimes Dashi and Tominnow will kidnap him and make him paint his claws. On one occasion, Koshi joined in, and he was forced to go in a full face of makeup for the entire next mission because Koshi did it, because Dashi would crucify him if he wiped it off with Koshi there. He will end you if you pull up the photos.

-On that note, Dashi and Kwazii have an older-sister-younger-brother dynamic. Kwazii always has her backup pair of glasses in the Gup-B just in case she loses her contacts.

-He ABSOLUTELY sleepwalks and sleep talks. He's said and done some wild shit while asleep.

-Tweak now makes him wear a wristband with an alarm when he sleeps so someone can find him if he leaves the Octopod in his sleep. Weirdly, he's most commonly caught by Inkling or the Vegimals, specifically Grouber, while he's getting a midnight snack.

-He and Tweak are best friends. They cause HAVOC when left alone.

-Kwazii is dyslexic. He was..quite the trouble-maker when he was in school (pray for his teachers chat)

-He often steals from his fellow crew mates simply because he just...forgets he can ask and get a yes most of the time. Peso has to routinely remind him he's allowed to ask for stuff.

-Kwazii and Paani are chaotic, unstoppable lovers.

-Kwazii is absolutely BANNED from the kitchen.

-Kwazii's favorite stim is pressing buttons, which makes him more eager to sound the octo-alert and LITERALLY GOD at rhythm games, specifically Geometry Dash and Rhythm Heaven.

-he has plenty of scars, but they're mainly from stupid stuff like running into a glass coffee table to see if it would break

[44ants]

An Avid Listener

DBH Conner/ F!Reader One Shot

Sort of Yandere?

My first one shot! (I believe that's what it's called anyway. Or is it an imagine?) I'm currently hyper-fixated on DBH so I need to get it out of my system. This is pretty much just slapped together and not planned out at all.

"What are you listening to?"

"Can't you just fucking leave me alone? I'm trying to get this report written so I can leave!" Gavin whined exasperated. He glared at Conner from the corner of his eye. He desperately tried to shield the right side of his face with his hand, hoping the android would take the hint and leave.

"I'm trying to diversify my music choices. It was recommended to me that I ask others what they like to discover my own preferences. If you tell me, I'll leave you alone." Conner negotiated, rubbing his hands together before politely holding them behind his back. He hoped to look innocent and endearing to achieve his goal.

"Why the hell do you even want to listen to music? It's meant to provoke emotion! You know? To make you feel things?" Gavin wasn't even sure why he was entertaining the conversation at this point. What good was arguing with him if he always had a comeback locked and loaded?

"That's exactly what I'm hoping to achieve." He countered and cocked his head.

"I'm not even listening to music. It's a podcast."

"I have not listened to any podcasts yet. What is it about?"

He decided it was best to just give up and slammed his phone down on the desk. Conner leaned over and read what was on the screen: 'Myrtoalett'. It translated to 'Bog Toilet' in Swedish and the cover was of a crucified fetus. "Interesting. I'll come back to you and give you my feedback once I've finished listening." He turned to head back to his own desk conjoined with Hank's who was currently passed out in his chair.

"Please don't." Gavin murmured, "And good luck! There's, like, 400 episodes!"

Skimming roughly through articles and the basic summary of the podcast, he found that it was a talk show that covered serial killers, murders, and the paranormal. There were three hosts: Jeremy Tompson, Elias Rask, and Y/N. He decided he'd listen once he made it home with Hank.

To say the least, Conner was hooked. Every free moment he had that didn't require his full attention was spent listening to Myrtoalett. He struggled with finding the humor in some of the hosts' jokes and found some conversations a little too vulgar and distasteful, but actually paying attention to details of old cases despite already having a vast knowledge of them was very addicting to him. It brought a strange amount of satisfaction to him to anticipate where the case would go next and hearing every little disgusting detail of how serial killers enacted their murders. He took enjoyment in ignoring any previous knowledge he had about axe murderers or famous killers and just immersing himself in the stories. The comradery amongst the hosts was amusing as well, but mostly he found his enjoyment in the podcast from listening to this Y/N girl. There were three distinct roles between the hosts. Jeremy was the main host, went into the episodes with no previous knowledge about the topics, and forced the others to elaborate by asking questions. Elias provided the most comedic relief and went into in-depth conspiracy theory rants. Y/N was the main researcher. She seemingly spent weeks researching the topics they spoke about and mainly talked the most. He admired the dedication she had to finding each and every detail, no matter how minuscule. Conner thought she'd make a good detective and her story telling skills enraptured him. Her voice was soothing no matter how gruesome the topic and perfectly dictated the feelings you should have. Oh? The final victim of the Toy Box Killer is escaping? He felt like he was on the edge of his seat. A soldier is retelling his experiences from the Edwood Experiments? He was horrified. Police were describing what the inside of Ed Kemper's house was like? He was intrigued. JonBenet Ramsey's father discovered her corpse? There needed to be justice! This was exactly what he was looking for in discovering new media! Finding something that would evoke new emotions for him to discover since his deviancy.

It wasn't just her story telling that intrigued him, but the fact that she gave out such little details about her life compared to the other hosts. Rarely did she indulge the listeners in personal aspects of her life. It irritated him to no end to listen to Jeremy and Elias speak about their upbringings or what serial killers were from their state and knowing nothing about Y/N! He couldn't help himself but to look into her more. There was nothing wrong with that, right? She was a celebrity! Their podcast had a pretty big following. It was only natural that there would be so much information about her on the internet! It wasn't a crime to have access to what everyone else did! Looking into her criminal record using his access from DPD wasn't wrong either. With how much knowledge she had about criminals, it was possible that she herself was a criminal! There was nothing wrong with just making sure she wasn't! It was his job to keep people safe and ask questions when necessary. It didn't help that she was the only female on the show and was often compared to the female victims of murderers! He needed to keep what tabs he could on her and make sure fans didn't get any funny ideas! It wasn't smart for them to put thoughts like that into people's heads.

It wasn't long before his life revolved around the podcast. It wasn't long before he had listened through each and every episode and consumed every piece of media he could find about it. It wasn't long until he felt absolutely empty waiting for a new episode to be released. One episode a week wasn't enough for him. What was supposed to keep him occupied besides the one hour of entertainment he got on Saturdays. What was he supposed to do when they took breaks for holidays and vacations? Relistening to old episodes was the only thing he could do. What was he supposed to feel if Y/N wasn't there to tell him what to feel?

The longer he spent obsessed with the show, the more his emotions became twisted. His sick fascination with serial killers only deepened. It wasn't sick, right? He wasn't the one making a whole show about it! He wasn't the one talking about people who built entire structures and hotels to rape and kill victims! He wasn't the one that made jokes about Y/N being trapped in a basement, all tied up, being forced to have things done to her without her consent. He didn't have those thoughts. He didn't have those feelings of excitement and thrill at the idea of holding her down and having complete control over her. He didn't.

He didn't fantasize about being the one to save her from a murderer or a kidnapper. He didn't.

He didn't think about finding where she lived and going to her house. He didn't

He didn't think about finding out her schedule and 'accidentally' running into her at the coffee shop she loved. He didn't.

He didn't think about the best ways to impress her.

He didn't daydream about her every waking moment.

He didn't think about what it'd feel like to hold her lovingly.

He didn't think about what she'd feel like in his arms. Writhing and screaming.

He didn't.

[hp-confessions]

This fandom really overhypes Sirius’s “I wish it was full moon” dialogue, tbh.

I see comments like “oh, he made fun of his friend’s illness” or “he didn’t understand what Remus was going through” and like … did we read the same books? Remus literally says that his friends made full moons "the best times of my life”. They did understand what Remus went through, that’s the entire reason they did what they did and the reason they were able to think of Animagi transformations as a way to keep Remus company.

I think the reason people criticize Sirius here is because of Remus’s response to his comment in the same scene.

“I’m bored,” said Sirius. “Wish it was full moon.”

“You might,” said Lupin darkly from behind his book.

Firstly, Remus’s response could have literally been a joke. Earlier, when joking with James and Sirius about werewolf questions in their exam, he replies “briskly” and “seriously” – him replying “darkly” fits that pattern and could simply be an indication of his personal sense of humour. It doesn’t need to be deep at all - not everything is an unrelenting cycle of angst.

Also, I think the fandom is forgetting that Remus sometimes felt guilty about what the Marauders were doing:

“I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore’s trust, of course . . . he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month’s adventure.”

Given that full moon was probably approaching in SWM (Remus is described as looking “pale and peaky”) it’s possible that Remus’s comment was motivated by his own guilt and hesitation, which he himself tells us would soon evaporate.

And lastly … criticizing Sirius alone for being “insensitive” to Remus is idiotic because it’s literally canon that all four of them thought of full moons as “an adventure”. All four of them viewed it as a time of “exciting possibilities”. All four literally sat down to plan what they were going to do each month. So why on earth are people acting as though Sirius was alone in looking forward to full moons, lol? James and Peter were exactly the same. Remus himself was exactly the same.

Idk, I find it pretty silly when the fandom relies on the worst possible interpretation of Sirius when it comes to this line (and the idea that Remus reacted this way to Sirius because of the Prank is even stupider – we’re told that the Marauders had many "near misses" they laughed about afterwards, why should the Prank to be anything different?). It’s also odd how Sirius is the only one who’s criticized. James tells Peter “you run round with a werewolf” in a place crowded with students who could hear them, Remus even implores him to lower his voice, yet I never see people crucifying James for this. So I’m not sure why the fandom picks on every single thing Sirius says? It's weird asf.

~

[rubydubydoo122]

could you talk more about fanon vs canon tim drake? i havent gotten too far into the comics yet but have seen a lot of him (mis?)characterized by others

Just a preface, I'm not gonna crucify any Tim fans who find themselves writing these tropes, because it is fandom, and everyone's allowed their own interpretations of the character, I'm just personally not a fan of these takes on Tim because in my mind they just don't make sense for the character. If anyone has differing opinions, feel free to (politely) explain them to me, because I'm happy to hear them.

Ok, so much like Fanon Dick Grayson, there are two versions of fanon Tim Drake.

There's version A.) where where he's one minor inconvienience away from becoming a supervillain (I understand where this one comes from and I don't HATE it) and there's version B.) where he was criminally neglected as a kid and is infantalized (This version of Tim I Loathe)

I'll start with version A. I see where it comes from. Mainly the Red Robin 2009 run, but we have to remember that Tim was grieving pretty much everyone close to him during that era. He was being self destructive because of that grief, and yeah, grief changes a person, but Tim is the type of character who would still turn out good despite all the hurt handed to him. Oh! But Gun Batman-- Tim actively chose against being that. He would rather kill himself than let himself become a version of Batman who went against everything Batman stood for. I know there are multiple storylines where Tim meets and evil future version of himself, but those versions would constantly be like a weight on him to be good. All in all, if I had to choose between the fanon Tim Drakes, I would choose villain Tim Drake, as long as it's done in more of a character-study way rather than a 'He deserves to go evil, as a treat' because it's an interesting take with the right motives.

Now onto Version B. Loser Tim Drake. The reason I Loathe this version of Tim is because it usually involves Characters Assassination of the characters around him. Ok, so do I agree that Tim Drake was somewhat neglected? Yes. But goddamit, the way I see Jack and Janet portrayed, you would think that they were running from the feds or something. They were good people, just bad parents. Maybe a little immature to raise a child, but it wasn't to the point where they would probably need to call CPS. Neglect isn't black and white, and the Drakes fell into that grey-- which I personally believe to be a lighter shade. You do have to remember that a lot of Tim's introduction was written in the 90's where parenting styles were a lot different compared to Today. Still, they sent him to boarding school, meaning they made sure that some form of adult was taking care of Tim AND a lot of people try to make Jack Drake out to be the villain for stopping Tim from being Robin, and blackmailing Bruce for it, but... It's What Any Sane Parent Would Do? I'm 18, but I know if I ever had a kid, and then fell into a coma and then woke up and found out that my Kid was fighting crime in one of the most CRIME RIDDEN CITIES alongside my middle-aged neighbor who dresses up like a furry I WOULD CALL THE FUCKING COPS. But enough about the Drakes. Because not only does Loser Tim Drake assassinate their character, but why is 17 year old Tim the victim when it comes to 10 year old Damian-- "Oh he tried to kill him' They're both trained by assassins. They're both trained. They're both Trained. Why Is a Junior/Senior in high school hurt by the actions of a 5th grader. I have a similar age gap with my younger brother. We have had pretty brutal fights and the next day we're fine. I'm not going to get into "Attack on Titans Tower AUs" but I will say this, Every Time I Start To Read One Of Those, I Lose Half Of My Hair Because of How Bad the Characterization Of Both Jason And Tim are. Please, Read, The, Comic. Jason Wasn't Trying To Kill Tim. If He Was, Tim would Be Dead. ANd Tim was Snarking Jason Through The Entire Confrontation. Lastly, Why Has DICK 'BAMF' GRAYSON TURNED INTO TIM"S NUMBER ONE OP????!!!! DIck IS LITERALLY TiM's ChiLDHOOD HEro!!!!! NoT BAtMAN, DICK GRAYSON. And like, not only that, Dick and Tim are the most brotherly. I'm Begging, Please go read a 90's comic. Why is it, the only time I see Dicks Manipulative side in fanon, It's in opposition to Tim? I bet it's bc of Teen Titans Go. I bet the only Tim and Dick interaction they've seen is TTG Robin going "No BOdy cARes AbOuT TiM DrAke"

Sorry that ended up becoming rant-y, and less objective. Since actually reading comics, fanon Tim Drake gets on my nerves.

[painandmovies]

Ginny and Georgia Season 3 surprisingly might be the best season yet, but these are the main things that bother me + fan reactions to accompany them:

Every season the MANG dynamic results in fanfare of making someone out to be the villian, while the prior or subsequent one paints them completely sympathetically. The switch-up towards Max from last season to this one, and the opposite effect switch-up from Abby to Max is confusing. I don't think anyone is intended to look entirely justified or should be crucified. The tendency of fans to have memory loss upon every new season and villianize one then defend them against the other 3 the next...is something. People pick and choose between them to make one look entirely bad, while the other is empathized with. Also, I don't even hate her, but how is Abby praised for being a girlboss for calling Marcus "the better Baker" and dismissing Max's feelings, while Ginny says they "grew apart" and is crucified for "owing her" for the friends she made. I feel like bonds of the members of MANG could go deeper with each other, like Abby and Ginny for instance, but their relationships are so surface level due to the writing that I'm not even interested in any of their dynamics as they are and because of it, the conflicts are hard to sympathize with completely. What I'm saying is I do sympathize and the s3 conflict is believable, but I'm ultimately univested in where they end up; like Ginny and Abby could never be friends again and I wouldn't care, and I like that duo the most (and i came out feeling like this last season...like yeah none of them should be friends). It definitely seems like high-school only relationships (and I don't know if that's what the writers are aiming for or if they're trying to deepen and get you to understand them all so they can grow into real friends).

I'm here (and I've always been here) for Joe, but I feel like they ruined Zion and Paul this season and they didn't need to. It's weird to me how Paul is still regarded as a good guy when to me Paul has always been scharmy and I don't know how people haven't seen it. His proposal was a red flag, but for some reason was seen as romantic. I don't know, but I don't think it's that surprising that a guy who slams a ring on a desk almost (or maybe didn't almost) hit her. Maybe they needed to ruin him more in that way to get it through people's heads who defend him (but surprisingly they're still defending him). Since the Gilmore Girls comparisons are being talked about, Zion has always been a Christopher, but to try to act like that man is worse than Christopher is wild; he's never been a fit partner for Georgia and he's an absent father, but at least I've felt like he cares about Ginny and even Austin who isn't even his, whereas Christopher didn't care and Rory didn't even know who he was when he pulled up on his motorcycle. Some of the stuff they threw in with him this season felt ooc to make Joe the only choice, and I don't think they needed to do that. It's always been clearly Joe, but they messed up the writing last season and it made people look at him like a side character where they rooted for other endgames. It feels a bit unbelievable that he's so straight-laced and he just accepts her murders so easily, even though I do believe he'd eventually accept them; I have feelings on how they developed them basically. Idk, but I'm here for them!

Norah is useless. (any Degrassi fans think Chelsea could handle more from her dramatic storylines?) I definitely like the detail of her period problems if it's for a purpose and brings awareness to something bigger. Samantha is also useless. I don't know the point of making her bulimic or of making her question her sexuality, if she's a character that shouldn't be and seemingly won't be redeemed. Also not here for a Press redemption storyline, just had to throw that in there.

They try to pass off Young Georgia as exceptionally charming and let her get away with too much that doesn't seem believable. How does no one notice Georgia steal? I remember thinking what she gets away with was unbelievable last season, too.

Please don't make Ginny too much like Georgia. Please don't make Ginny murder. Although it's kind of funny that fans complained about Ginny in prior seasons, but I've seen others have this same reaction to not making Ginny like her mom. Either you love Georgia and you want Ginny to be like her or she was fine when she was just Ginny. But if can't be both that you hate her before and think her "character development" is ruining her.

This is just more of a minor observation, but all of the parents are kind of bad in some way. I feel like it's common for people to think Ellen is the foil to Georgia's "bad" parenting. I feel for her and sympathize with her utter cluelessness of Marcus' problem, but that scene of Marcus screaming he hates himself and Ellen's reaction makes me slightly uncomfortable, and not just for the obvious of how real it is. I don't know how to explain why, but something about the scene and how she was (and not talking about the part of her asking if he hates them) made me question her. I think (I mean know) she doesn't understand him, and it makes all the more sense why he's struggling. This isn't negative feedback to the writing of her character or a critique of her parenting, but my heart breaks for Marcus and it should be interesting what they explore with him in season 4.

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part thirty

summary: you were back in the capitol, and you would be damned if you didn't try your hardest to make it worthwhile.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.4k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: guys i've been listening to this playlist again and it actually still tears me apart every time i think ab them. anyway lol enjoy!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

Coryo hadn't seen you in a while, he thought you would be back after going to get water but you never returned. He could only bear Livia and Festus for so long before he couldn't take it anymore, leaving to go look for you.

He's scanning the room for your white dress and your angel wings, the telltale tones of your hair, or any other sign of you when Sejanus walks up, standing next to him. "Looking for your girlfriend?" He asks, leaning close to him to make sure he could be heard in the loud room.

"Do you know where she is?" Coryo asks, not giving him another look.

"Yep." Sejanus nods, lips pressed together in a thin line. "She's in my bedroom bawling her eyes out."

Coryo's head swivels to look at him, eyes wide. "What? What happened?" He frowns, not waiting for Sejanus to answer before he begins striding toward the stairs. "Did someone say something to her?"

"Yeah, you did, actually." Sejanus replies as he follows after him, the bitterness in his tone suddenly obvious to his friend as he stops in his tracks.

"What? No, I-" Coryo stammers, looking down at your friend as he steps in front of him to block his path. "What... what did I do? Did she tell you?"

"Lyssie came and found me, and I went to talk to her. The gist of it is that she's suddenly realizing how you're embarrassed of her."

"What?" Coryo asks again, his anger and confusion shifting into sadness as his eyes soften.

Sejanus shrugs a bit. "That's just what I was told."

"No," Coryo insists. "That's not... That's not what it is, not at all."

"Isn't it?" Your friend asks, raising an eyebrow at him. "That you won't tell anyone, that you're keeping her a secret? That you told people she's nothing more than your tribute? After all this time? I can't think of another reason you would treat her like this."

"Of course you can't!" Coryo spits, anger suddenly returning. "You're so caught up in your rebellious bullshit that you can't think ahead, can you? Sejanus- if anyone finds out they'll crucify her! They'll do the same to me! Our lives will be ruined if that gets out at the wrong time!"

Sejanus rolls his eyes. "Her life, or yours?" He asks. "She'll be sent home. Everyone loves her too much to kill her. The worst case scenario for her is that she gets sent home to live her life as normal- with her family and friends. Happy, back in Twelve. The worst for you is that you'd have to decide whether or not you love her enough to go with her."

Coryo opens his mouth to speak, but quickly closes it when he finds he doesn't have an adequate response.

"You're taking every extra effort to turn her into everything you are. Forcing her to become me- a District kid who had to leave their life behind for nothing more than the money just so you can have her without people looking at you funny, but have you ever asked her what she actually wants? I didn't have a choice, but Y/N does. You just won't give it to her."

He has never seen Sejanus this angry before.

"You know she had to leave. She didn't have a choice." Coryo says through gritted teeth.

Sejanus shakes his head, laughing dryly. "It's not about that, Coriolanus. That didn't mean she had to pack up her life and never return- she never needed to change who she was, but look at her! She's doing everything she can to fit in with you and your life!"

"I did what we had to do because you never can! You only ever think of yourself! The world doesn't work the way you want it to, and you can't stand it. I get that, but we want the same thing. I just know how to get it. She needs people to listen to her- so we can actually stop the games, do you think they'll listen to her if she doesn't play pretend for a while?"

Sejanus huffs in frustration. "If you're not going to listen to me, fine, but don't do this to her." He shakes his head. "At the very least you could have explained why you were lying to her."

"I've never lied to her!" Her answers impulsively- he's sure he has, but not with the intention to hurt you. Never to hurt you. "Look at what happened when she found out, huh?" Coryo gestures vaguely up the hall. "I'm just trying to protect her. That's all I care about! That's it!"

"If you had just told her that from the beginning she wouldn't be hurting like this. You know that, Coryo."

"Okay, and I'm going to explain right now. So leave me alone." He grumbles, moving to push past Sejanus, who quickly stops him, giving him a knowing look.

"Sejanus, get out of my way."

"No," Sejanus states. "Because you're not the only one who cares about her, and right now, I'm the one protecting her."

Coryo grits his teeth together, breathing heavily as he looks at your friend in the quiet hall, music echoing from seemingly everywhere else in the house. He hates considering that Sejanus could be right.

There's a warm breeze that's serving to keep you cool while you walk through the market, dripping wet from head to toe. Your hair is clinging to the skin of your neck and back, allowing you some freedom from the heat as you hold onto Coryo's hand.

With your clothes soaked and stuck to your skin, you could at least convince yourself that was why people were staring.

"So, how often do you do this?" Coryo asks, unable to help but to laugh as he looks down at you.

"Only during a heat wave." You shrug, already scanning the street for the shops you needed to stop at. You had offered to pick up groceries for your Ma, considering the heat and the walk would have made it difficult. At least you could make it fun, and you would have some company.

"Makes sense." He chuckles. He had to admit, the dampness of his clothes was helpful in keeping him cool. It almost made up for the lack of air conditioning in the District.

"The goal is to get home before we dry off." You explain. "Lennox and I play this game sometimes."

Before he can reply, you're dropping his hand and walking over to one of the stalls.

"Y/N, it's been a while." The woman working states, smiling at you somewhat nervously.

"Yes, well, I'm back to business as usual now." You smile, pulling the empty glass bottle from the bag at your side and holding it out to her. "Or at least tryin' my very best."

"I can see that." She chuckles, shaking her head as she takes the bottle. "No Lennox today?" She asks, preparing to fill it up with milk.

"No ma'am." You smile, shaking your head and digging in your pocket for the change you brought and placing it in front of her on the table. "He's off getting into some kind of trouble, I'm sure."

"Take good care of him, will ya? He's a good kid." She hands the now full bottle back to you with a sealed cap.

"Yes, ma'am." You nod, tucking it back into your bag. "Thank you."

She nods at you and you're on your way down again, Coryo allowing you to pull him along as you grab his hand.

You go stall to stall, picking up everything your mother asked for as your shoulder bag steadily fills and Coryo takes it from you to carry instead. He was much stronger now than he was when you first met him- the Plinth Prize had fed him well in every sense of the word.

You look up as you near the end of the street, surrounded by locals who are talking and shouting all the same. The market on a Saturday always was busy, and today was no exception.

"What is it?" Coryo asks, looking at you as you freeze in the street and a smile steadily grows on your face.

"Listen." You tell him, tuning in on the steady clapping coming from the end of the street. When he puts in a little bit of focus, he can just make out the music.

By the time he does, you're grabbing his hand again and pulling him toward the source of the familiar sounds.

The crowd parts around you when you get close enough, and by now Coryo recognizes the band playing as the Covey. There are people dancing in the street despite the heat, sweating and laughing and having fun. It takes a moment for him to notice you being pulled away by little Maude Ivory, who had set down her hip drum to come dance with you.

The smile on your face was simply unmatched, lighting up the shadows cast by the buildings where the sun couldn't quite reach. You hardly even seem to notice when the people dancing around you cleared away, and it was now just you and the little girl who Coryo speculates didn't even know where you had disappeared to for most of July.

You come to a slow stop as you look around, your smile fading as the music continues.

"Thinkin' you're so fine, thinkin' you could have mine..."

Coryo couldn't just watch this. He was far from a dancer himself, but he'd be damned if he let a bunch of idiots dampen your mood because of something you couldn't control.

"Thinkin' you're in control, thinkin' you'll change me, maybe rearrange me,"

You hardly hear your favourite part of the song you loved as you're focussed on Coryo taking the spot of Maude Ivory who's carrying your bag of shopping and placing it down next to their instrument cases and picking her drum back up.

"Think again if that's your goal!"

The extent of Coryo's dance experience was limited to ballroom, and that showed as he quickly raised your hand to spin you. The sunshine smile that finds its way back onto your face while you twirl around under his hand makes his fears of being a bad dancer disappear in an instant, and others must be feeling the same way as the crowd begins to clap and cheer for the two of you.

It was only another beat before others were dancing again, and someone had taken the liberty of breaking a nearby fire hydrant to spray everyone on the street. Now, your clothes were freshly wet and you didn't stand out so much anymore as Coriolanus took a hold of your waist and dipped you just as the music came to a halt.

He smiled as he looked down at you, frozen in the moment with your wet hair hanging down toward the street and your chest rising and falling quickly. Your eyes were closed, cheeks rosy and flushed, and Coriolanus Snow felt like he was on top of the world.

You wake up in Sejanus's bed in the morning, the satin dress that was part of your costume clinging uncomfortably to your skin under his blankets to accompany the horrible plague of sadness that didn't even give you a moment to breathe. Staring at the ceiling and processing your consciousness, you were disappointed with the memory that presented itself as a dream.

Disappointed in yourself for thinking you could have him, really have him, and foolish for thinking he was actually looking past where you were from. But you had made him a promise that was haunting you.

"Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love; and I'll no longer be a Capulet."

He would not give up who he was, but he claimed to love you. His stance was clear, and now it was your turn. Give up the District, or give up him.

When the buzzer rings signifying there is someone at the door in the afternoon, Coryo is flying to the receiver and praying it's you. "Hello?"

He's extremely disappointed when it's Sejanus Plinth's voice that he hears instead. "I'm here for the cat."

Coryo sighs, knocking the side of his fist against the wall as a quiet way to vent his frustration. "No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Sejanus spits, voice crackling through the speaker. "He's Y/N's cat-"

"I mean, no. I'm not giving you her cat. He lives here. She lives here. She'll come back." Coriolanus interrupts him, and he's met by deafening silence.

"Coryo-" He sighs, and the pity traveling with his tone up through the walls onto the twelfth floor is what sets him off.

"If she wants her damn cat she can come get him herself." The cat in question is purring and brushing up against his leg as he practically shouts into the wall, letting go of the button before scooping Tybalt up and walking back to his room.

He wasn't angry at you, he knew that much. He was angry at the world for forcing him to make the decisions he did- he was angry at Sejanus for not letting him speak to you last night, and more than anything, he was angry at himself.

Coriolanus Snow was never one to admit when he was feeling afraid. He had never been very good with feelings outside of the basics. He knew he loved Tigris, and now you, and he knew anger and frustration like the back of his hand, but fear- fear was a whole new beast. When it came to recognizing and acknowledging it, anyway.

When it came to you, you were everything to him. Since the moment Coryo first laid his eyes on you, you occupied every ounce of his thoughts. You and your astonishing mind, your body, your everything was like a chronic illness that he never wanted to be cured of, an illness that shamelessly followed him around- gnawing at any other area of his brain that wasn't you until you fully dominated his thoughts altogether. He had never craved anything more, no amount of power could ever make him as satisfied as he is when looking at you.

And that is what terrified him. That losing you meant so much more than losing his path to the presidency. As he places Tybalt on his bed and crawls back under the covers with your cat to rot in his own regrets, he realizes he doesn't give the slightest fuck about his future. Not if it doesn't include you.

So why had he done this at all?

You couldn't call home. You wanted to, you were supposed to, but you couldn't talk to your parents. Put on a smile and tell them everything is fine even when you were calling from the Plinth mansion and you hadn't been back at the Snow's in a day. God forbid this is the day Lennox decides to speak to you again- you couldn't lie to him, and he wouldn't be pleased.

When Sejanus comes back to the large homey mansion empty-handed, you couldn't say you were surprised.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. He's holding Tybs hostage." He tells you, attempting a lighthearted joke while he watches you clean up cups and decorations.

"That's alright." You reply quietly. "He's happy there, they're good friends."

"No, he's being childish. He can't leverage your cat against you."

"Well, it doesn't matter much. I will go back tonight." Sej's eyes go wide at your statement.

"You're kidding." Is all he can offer in response as you casually continue to take down decorations, piling them on the coffee table to dispose of all at once.

You shake your head, turning to look at him fully with a reassuring smile. "Yes, it is totally fine. I'll just help clean up before I go."

"No!" Your friend protests. "Are you not angry? He's been lying to you- he's embarrassed of us, is what it seems like to me. That's not fair to you. Not one bit, Y/N."

He had seen your pain last night. Felt it, even, and he knows that even a good night's sleep could not have solved that- but he also knew that you were a preacher of forgiveness and clung to it like a vice. You would forgive Coriolanus whether you really should or not.

"Never anger made good guard for itself."

"Y/N... Please." Sejanus replies, shaking his head at your saddened smile. "Stay here. Just for a couple of days. I am begging you to think about yourself and what you need for once."

You sigh, giving him a slight nod. If you were being totally honest, you did not want to go back yet. You just needed time.

It was such a relief to be able to finally relax, even if it was just for a few days. You lounged around in Sej's spare pyjamas, curled up in his Ma's library while she and her husband were back in District Two on some alleged business that your friend did not care to know much about. It was very much not your concern anyway.

The point of your couple days off was to not care about others, not care about the problems of the world and the mistakes you have made but instead to just enjoy the company of the books stacked high on shelves in the Plinth's mansion.

So far, a dusty book in surprisingly incredible condition had been keeping you company for the better part of the morning. Little Women. It was captivating- far from the love stories that typically drew your attention, but you couldn't tear your nose from between the pages.

You had to, eventually, when you heard your name being shouted by your best friend from downstairs. You tuck an envelope from the table next to you in between the pages and make your way down the long hall, already excited to tell him about what may very well be your new favourite book.

"Sej?" You call out, having lost track of where the voice had come from as you head for the front hall. You were aware he was leaving only to go pick up something for breakfast at a bakery he said was his favourite, one you had never been to, but that had been quite some time ago. As you walk toward the foyer assuming that's where you would find him, you guess there must have been a long lineup. "Sej, I have to tell you about the book I found!"

You couldn't keep your raving in as you round the corner, already flipping once more through the pages in preparation for citing to him some of your favourite parts while you ate breakfast.

You look up when you sense the shadow of more than one person at the door, expecting to see his parents, having returned early from their trip. Instead, your heart stops in your chest. It's Lennox. Rigid, nothing but a backpack slung over his shoulder as he stares at you. You hadn't heard from him in months, despite all your best efforts.

The book in your hand clatters to the floor and before you know it your arms are around your brother's neck, holding onto him for dear life. You hear his bag drop to the ground beside you before his arms are around your waist, firm as he pulls you as close as he possibly can.

"When I am from thee every place is distant..." You say into his shirt, gripping the back of it in your hands.

"I missed you too." Lennox mumbles.

"I'm sorry... I am so sorry." You tell him quietly and you feel him shake his head before he pulls back just to look at you.

"Don't you apologize to me." He says strictly. "Don't you dare." The tears pooling on his lash line make yours spill over again. "I'm sorry. I should be sorry."

You hug him again, and now it is your turn to shake your head. "Let's just agree to forgive each other so we can just be happy we're together..."

"Deal." He sniffs, patting your back before letting you go again to pick his bag up off the floor.

"What... what are you doing here?" You ask with a slight laugh, wiping your eyes quickly. "Howdid you get here?"

Your brother nods toward Sejanus, who you now realize was just forced to watch the whole exchange. "Sejanus called the house the other night." He explains. "Said you were havin' a real rough time, so I hopped on the freight car of the peacekeeper's train first thing in the morning."

Which means he would be here for the month- and immediately you couldn't be more relieved or excited.

"Thank you." You nod at him, turning now to give your best friend a hug. "Thank you for doing that..." You whisper and he nods, gently rubbing your back.

"Of course, Y/N/N."

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @cascadingbliss

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[fishermon]

Would people crucify me if I said I really love Graves/Soap as a ship?

Like, there's so much angst you could do with it. Graves cares so deeply about his shadows, and what if he and Johnny started dating, what if Johnny became an honorary shadow. He becomes one of Graves' boys and Graves genuinely loves him. Sure maybe the relationship started as a way to get intel, a way to ingratiate Graves with the 141, to get deeper in their ranks. But somewhere along the lines he genuinely falls in love.

Johnny was patient and kind and clever, and pushed when he needed to, when helping Graves unpack his internalised homophobia. Johnny was raised catholic but had very much unpacked the bad shit that had left him with. He still considered himself Catholic, but he didn't practice it the way most people did. His catholicism was a kind of folk catholicism. Graves was raised southern baptist and only thought he was past what being raised that way had taught him because he didn't go to church anymore.

He still shakes like an abused dog the first time Soap kisses him.

Soap doesn't mind, though, he gets it, he was the same way the first time he ever kissed another man. He knows how to comfort Graves, he knows how to help him wrap his head around it and he refuses to let Graves push himself too far too fast in an attempt to save face in front of Soap.

Because the differences in their ages gets to Graves a bit too. Johnny's young, he's happy, he's confident in himself and his relationships and sexuality, and Graves is just past 40, but somehow he is the one stumbling through and messing everything up like he's thirteen and just kissed a girl behind the chapel for the first time after skipping Sunday school. Graves hates feeling so out of his depth. It should be the other way round! He's the older one of the two of them, he should be the one who knows what he's doing, the one with experience guiding Johnny through it... But he isnt.

Johnny's already unpacked his religious trauma and guilt while Graves just let it sit and simmer.

Johnny never makes him feel stupid, though. He never judges the stupid questions Graves asks, never makes fun of him for trying something and having it just not work out the way he thought it would.

Johnny makes him feel well and truly loved and appreciated.

Graves almost forgets why they got into a relationship in the first place, until he gets the order that they're going to be moving forwards with the mission, setting the next phase in motion within the month.

It feels like the floor got ripped out from under him. Graves spends the first day after getting the news in shock as he realises what he's going to have to do, then he spends the second day trying desperately to figure out a way to get around this. A way to make sure Soap doesn't get hurt. A way to make sure Soap doesn't realise Graves has been silently betraying him and the 141 from the start.

A way to make sure he doesn't lose Soap in any sense of the word.

He knows it's not possible to keep the 141 from finding out, and it's not possible to make sure Soap doesn't get hurt unless he can get Soap to switch sides.

So he starts planting the seeds, trying to subtly influence Soaps feelings, his loyalties, so that when the time comes he can hold his hand out and ask Soap to come with him, and he will.

He gets to that time, though, he holds his hand out, and Soap refuses.

Graves' whole plan, the future he let himself think they could have together, falls apart right then and there, and he can't do anything but order his Shadow's to do what they'd already been briefed to do. He can't do anything but watch them hunt Soap down, hoping to the god that Soap had helped him believe in, the real god, the good and kind and just god who loved all of his children including the queer ones, that no one would catch Soap, that he'd get away.

[quilloleander]

Strange Phenomenon #1

Prompt: What about how they put up with Megatron when he randomly picks a "favorite" for like a week and then that starts chaos, cause say; Megatron favors Slipstream randomly one day, and follows her around wherever, Redwing and let's say Nova storm (I'm picking random examples) are confused and try to take Megatron back, but then it leads to chaos cause none of the high guard were aware of the fact that the seekers all have a built in "protect sparkling" feature or something.

This is part of the High Guard + Sparkling Megatron One-Shot Book I promised to make.

Okay, I have to immediately start this with a very scary warning… this is in first-person POV. BUT BEFORE YOU CRUCIFY ME! It's technically Shockwave's first-person POV and you'll understand why once you begin reading because I thought it would be funny to format the one-shot this way.

Thank you to TheGoth1 for the request! I sincerely apologize that I didn't put Nova Storm in this one-shot since I did try to look up Slipstream, Redwing, and Nova Storm, and according to the Transformers Wiki, Slipstream and Redwing are canonically in TFOne and part of the High Guard. It's just Nova Storm who isn't so I didn't put them in.

Also note… for the military titles mentioned here, I don't know anything about the military so if any of these titles are weird then… sorry sksksk. Just know that Starscream is the main Commander/leader of the entire High Guard (technically Soundwave and Shockwave are also Commanders but they technically have their own divisions - with Soundwave being the Intelligence Commander and Shockwave being the Science Commander), everyone else has ranks lower than that sksksks.

Ao3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65467561/chapters/171162490

================================================

Note before Proceeding:

File contains personal observation logs made throughout the course of the previous astroweek. It contains confidential information, therefore, anyone caught accessing these files without explicit permission shall forfeit their rights to Shockwave and be considered a volunteer for his next experiment. If you wish to proceed without clearance, then you have been made aware of the consequences and any injuries or fatalities incurred during experimentation shall entirely be your fault.

This is your final warning.

FILE CONFIDENTIAL TO ALL BUT SHOCKWAVE. DO NOT OPEN.

THAT MEANS YOU, SKYWARP.

—

Strange Phenomenon Log #1

Main Overseer of Phenomenon: Shockwave

Main Observation:

In the past astroweek, it has come to my attention that there is a strange phenomenon occurring within the base - particularly affecting the High Guard seekers.

Initially, it did not begin as one that required any further observation. However, the sparkling known as Megatron has seemed to have deemed Colonel Slipstream his primary caretaker of the astroweek - a strange phenomenon indeed for the sparkling has not interacted with the seeker at all according to previously gathered observation. Still, sparklings operate on chaos and cannot be trusted to produce predictable results. Therefore, this phenomenon was not quite concerning yet.

It began on a typical solar cycle, nothing of note could be said about it. Megatron had wandered into the refueling station after what I have concluded to be a nap. I was in the area due to my need to replenish my energon levels when I noticed Megatron wander towards Colonel Slipstream who sat at one of the empty tables by herself.

From previous observation and gathered comments, Colonel Slipstream is known for her temperamental personality. Aside from her trine, she prefers the company of herself over other bots, a shared trait that I can respect and agree on.

Returning to the observed phenomenon, Megatron had been intercepted along the way by General Skywarp, one of his usual caretakers. However, instead of proceeding to cling to the purple seeker, Megatron ignored him, his optics set on Colonel Slipstream. He stood by her for approximately thirty kliks before she noticed him by her seat. At first, the Colonel had expressed confusion and wariness, especially when Megatron reached up his servos for her.

I have no personal data regarding Colonel Slipstream’s opinion on sparklings, yet within a few more kliks, she proceeded to immediately gather the sparkling up in her arms.

Her red optics proceeded to scan the room, as though preparing for an outside threat. General Skywarp, ignored by Megatron and from my personal opinion still upset over this fact, approached her. He took only a few pedesteps towards her, gaining her attention. The two seekers stared one another down, all the while the sparkling continued to beep happily in her arms.

General Skywarp had tried to approach even further, reaching out his arms, yet Colonel Slipstream ran out of the room with the sparkling still in her hold.

End of Observation. To be Continued if More Data is Gathered.

—

Strange Phenomenon Log #2

Main Overseer of Phenomenon: Shockwave

Main Observation:

The strange phenomenon appears to have escalated further. Since the aforementioned incident, the sparkling known as Megatron has proceeded to cling to Colonel Slipstream’s side for two consecutive solar cycles. Apart from the lunar cycles where Megatron returns to his habsuite - he can be commonly found within the vicinity of the colonel. While I have no particular opinion of this strange phenomenon aside from interest, I believe it is beginning to be one of concern - for it appears the sparkling’s attachment to Colonel Slipstream has affected the other seekers.

A joor ago, once more in the refueling station, Private Redwing, in an act that is considered insubordination, demanded that Colonel Slipstream relinquish guardianship of Megatron. He stated that for a high-ranking officer, Colonel Slipstream should focus on her work instead of wasting her attention on a sparkling. He then proceeded to state why he was the most qualified for that type of work, indicating that while he may be low-ranked, that meant he had more time to spend caring for the sparkling in comparison to her. Furthermore, he stated previous examples of caring for sparklings, which may be exaggerations.

Colonel Slipstream had begun to mock him, stating, “Clearly, Private Redwing, you are overstepping and trying to undermine your commanding officer. This little one has chosen to spend his company with me, not you. You should learn to respect that if you cannot respect someone superior to you. Perhaps you require another excursion to the surface since you are so eager for work. You might need it, after all, the Commander hasn’t sent you out on anything important, has he? How long have you been a Private for? Ten cycles? Done nothing to prove your worth enough for a promotion?” 

From previous observation and gathered comments, Private Redwing is known for his ego. In the case of insubordination, lower-ranking members of the High Guard would immediately rescind before further punishment could be given, yet as was predicted Private Redwing did not wish to let the matter rest.

Without flinching at Colonel Slipstream’s comment, he then continued to insist that he had a skillset far superior in sparkling caretaking in comparison to her, as it was not a matter of military skills but rather a social one. He proceeded to then state that she was under-qualified due to her asocial nature.

This comment was then proceeded by a long list of cursing as the Colonel’s temper took over her logic core. As both seekers argued, Megatron continued to play on the table that Colonel Slipstream had left him on. 

It is astounding that a sparkling has more decorum than two High Guard members, though this is my own personal opinion.

I do not believe this strange phenomenon requires any immediate action yet. However, I would like to continue further observation in the event that it escalates to a greater degree.

End of Observation. To be Continued if More Data is Gathered.

—

Strange Phenomenon Log #3

Main Overseer of Phenomenon: Shockwave

Main Observation:

The strange phenomenon is beginning to reach critical levels of concern. Yet I cannot make a substantial argument for the necessity of prioritizing it as the subjects affected may simply be outliers in comparison to the rest of the seeker population.

For all intents and purposes, the subjects in question may simply be affected due to external factors.

Colonel Slipstream is a loner, even with a trine, so her clinginess to a sparkling may simply be an attempt to hold onto another being that has put its trust on her and who she does not need to account for in regards to future betrayal.

As for Private Redwing, I have gained further data acknowledging that he does have experience with sparklings in the past. Combined with his ego, he may simply consider himself to be the “superior” caretaker of sparklings among the seekers.

The newest subject affected by the strange phenomenon is General Skywarp.

At the time of writing this observation log, it has been four solar cycles since the sparkling known as Megatron decided to attach himself to Colonel Slipstream. 

General Skywarp had shown, dare I say it, “symptoms” of this phenomenon from the beginning when Megatron first ignored him in the refueling station.

A few joors ago, I was walking down a corridor when I came across Colonel Slipstream and General Skywarp in what I can only describe as a “screaming match.” I stood there, a mere observer as the two purple seekers proceeded to yell over one another while Megatron wailed, trying in vain to escape General Skywarp’s arms.

The following is the recorded conversation I happened upon.

“General, he clearly wants me.”

“No way! You’ve had him for four solar cycles! FOUR! SOLAR! CYCLES! What do you two even do together? There’s no way you’re way cooler or more fun than me!”“General, please return the sparkling—”

“HA! YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW HIS DESIGNATION, DO YOU?!”

“General, you are upsetting Megatron.”

“WHAT?! No, I’m not! He’s just crying because… because… he wants to play! Yeah! That’s it! I’ll show you both, I’m way more fun than you!”

“General Skywarp— Commander Shockwave, if I can please ask for your assistance—”

“I will not be part of this conversation, Colonel Slipstream.”

“HA! If you think I’m letting Shockwave of all mechs intimidate me, then you thought wrong!!!”

General Skywarp, with all the temper of a sparkling himself, proceeded to warp away with Megatron still crying in his arms. Colonel Slipstream seemed extremely upset by this, punching a nearby wall which left a sizeable hole in it before she proceeded to stomp away, screaming that she will “send Skywarp to Unicron himself” once she finds him.

The situation is escalating and I fear there will be more violence in the future. It is unfortunate that as of now, Commander Starscream has not yet returned from his mission.

End of Observation. To be Continued if More Data is Gathered.

—

Strange Phenomenon Log #4

Main Overseer of Phenomenon: Shockwave

Main Observation:

I regrettably write this observation log in the fear that this strange phenomenon has reached critical levels to the point that it may be an unknown disease that is plaguing the High Guard seekers. I know not the cure, yet my hypothesis is that it will continue to spread throughout the base until all seekers are infected by it. I can only hope that it does not begin to infect non-seeker High Guard lest I be forced to burn down the entire base with all the seekers inside to keep the infection from spreading further out.

I have come to this hypothesis for this very solar cycle, I have observed General Thundercracker, who from previous observation and gathered comments is known to be rather quiet and reserved, lose his temper at Colonel Slipstream. The other three observed subjects could be considered outliers due to the nature of their coding. However, General Thundercracker’s agreeable disposition should have meant that he would not partake within the strange phenomenon that was occurring. It is only by observing General Thundercracker’s behavior during this solar cycle that I have come to realize that this strange phenomenon is a disease.

It has since been six solar cycles since the sparkling known as Megatron began to attach himself to Colonel Slipstream. In that time, I have observed both Private Redwing and General Skywarp lose their processors over the idea that Megatron preferred Colonel Slipstream to them. 

My realization of the strange phenomenon being a disease came when General Thundercracker returned from his mission out on the surface with a few other seekers. He had asked if Commander Starscream had returned, yet when stated that he had not, General Thundercracker only proceeded to nod and ask where the sparkling was. I was at the entrance of the base when this happened as I was hoping that they may have captured interesting specimens that I may use for my experiments, and Colonel Slipstream was there too along with Megatron as she was waiting to meet her trine.

General Thundercracker noticed that Megatron was in Colonel Slipstream’s arms and had turned his attention to them. He approached them, speaking softly that I was unable to record any of the conversation that may have taken place.

I was mid-conversation with one of the returned members when I heard loud screaming.

Everyone watched as the normally composed General Thundercracker began to lecture Colonel Slipstream as he tried to pry Megatron away. Unlike before, where the sparkling was upset at being taken by General Skywarp and was crying so loudly that I believe even Primus himself may have heard him, Megatron did not proceed to wail.

Instead, he opened his intake, and bit General Thundercracker on the servo.

A smart mech would have pulled away, except General Thundercracker only continued to yell.

I need to warn Commander Starscream of this plague.

End of Observation. To be Continued if More Data is Gathered.

—

Strange Phenomenon Log #5

Main Overseer of Phenomenon: Shockwave

Main Observation:

I fear it may be too late.

It has since been seven solar cycles since the incident first began.

With each passing solar cycle, the disease has infected even the sanest of seekers yet I, Shockwave, was not able to truly see it for what it was until the sixth solar cycle when it had clearly begun to mutate into a virus that affected its victim immediately upon entry to the code.

Since the incident with General Thundercracker, more seekers began to insist upon caring for the sparkling known as Megatron, inciting fights in the corridors and screams that echoed throughout the lunar cycle that haunted the rest of us who were still free of the virus.

I do not know how it happened, yet in the earliest joors of the solar cycle, I found myself rescuing the small sparkling before he could be torn in two by any of the deranged seekers that lurked within the once safe havens of the High Guard base. 

He has not stopped crying since I had pried him away from a recharging Colonel Slipstream who had barricaded herself in her habsuite with the rest of her trine.

I fear his cries may lead those seekers right to our hiding place. My lab may be enforced, even with anti-warping technology, yet I would be a fool to believe that those doors would keep us safe. I have seen the viciousness of seekers. I have seen them tear through metal as though they were the organic dirt of other planets.

I know not how long we can survive.

I know not how many of my fellow non-seeker High Guard are still alive outside these walls.

I write this in the hopes that Commander Starscream may realize what happened in his absence.

I cannot possibly ward them all off if they begin to flood into the lab, for even now I can hear Colonel Slipstream punching at the door and yelling at me from outside. 

All I can hope for is to hide the sparkling inside one of the cabinets in an attempt to muffle his wailing so that they may not find him.

I know that I myself have no hope for survival, yet I will do what I can.

End of Observation. 

Starscream, if you find this, please bury me with my experiments.

—

Strange Phenomenon Conclusion

It appears that there has been a clear misunderstanding. 

Commander Starscream has returned to the High Guard base.

The rest of the seekers returned to their normal selves.

He found Megatron and I barricaded in the lab. 

After stating my observations, Starscream proceeded to laugh at me for approximately fifty kliks before explaining that in the absence of the main caregiver, seekers tend to become extremely protective of sparklings due to seeker coding… I will still continue to remain wary, however, of future incidents and try to see if there is a cure to this… “seeker coding.”

[saintzweig]

pls make a fic on patrick hovering over reader while they’re trying to study. intentionally distracting and disturbing them for an ounce of attention !!

funny you ask for this because i'm supposed to be studying for my midterms. THIS IS GNA BE MY LAST POST I NEED TO STUDY (crucify me if you see me post).

patrick visiting stanford after months on tour, desperate to see and feel you to make up for the times he had to settle for phone sex. unfortunately for him, he picked the wrong time because its your exams week and you have too much on your plate. he lays on your bed, sighing out loud numerous times and groaning for your attention to which you only rolled your eyes. he couldn't take it anymore and walked over to where you sat by your desk, placing his hands on your shoulder and crouching down so his lips are right next to your ear.

"can't you take a break? it'll be quick, i promise" his hands trail down to grope your chest, making your breath hitch. his warm breath on your skin and his large hands feeling you made you clench your thighs, which of course didn't go unnoticed.

"can't pat, i have to study or i'll fail" you huffed, trying to ignore the ache between your legs.

he chuckled, "you're not gonna fail by giving your boyfriend, who you haven't seen for months, atleast five minutes of attention" moving down slightly to attach his lips to your neck, leaving trails of sloppy kisses.

"i'm gonna fail if i don't study" his hands are now under your shirt, feeling your stiff nipples.

"then i'll help you, yeah?" he pull his hands out to grab the stack of flashcards on your desk before pulling you up and dragging you to the bed. he sits down and pulls you down to your knees, right between his legs.

now your mouth is around his cock, gagging while he reads you questions– if you get an answer right, you get to kiss the tip and if you get an answer wrong, he gets to push your head down.

you passed the exams, which he arrogantly took all credit for but you can't say that he didn't help. he's definitely expecting some sort of reward for helping you as if he was the one that took the test :)

[wisteriaiswriting]

Reformed Love

Words: 364

Request: Hii! So happy you write for Val! Could i request a small fic or headcanons for Gekko and radiant reader who turns into a radivore type creature? (Idk of radiant powers work like that, plz don't crucify me lol).

It wasn’t meant to be like this, the mission was supposed to be a simple get in-get out type thing. “Y/N, Dear, Love,” Walking forwards in the dim warehouse, pausing when he noticed a trail of blood. “Oh, no, no, no, no, no!” As he followed the drops and smears he saw nearby radianite crates thrown across the room, more had massive claw marks, spilling the contents.

“Hey Wings, any signs of ‘em?” With a small shake of his head Gekko sighed, it’s been hours since he saw you. The mission went so wrong so quickly, it felt like in seconds you had gone from being next to him to suddenly tearing through Kingdom agents as a… creature. He just hoped you didn’t go too far.

“Gekko,” The voice of Cypher rang through the earpiece, “We have confirmation of them still in the warehouse, be careful.” At that the call was cut, at least he had something to keep him going. Only for something to catch his attention, the faint sound of whimpering and stuff falling off shelves. So he was able to follow the sound, leading him into another section of the warehouse.

This one was also filled with radianite boxes, these ones were only shoved aside. As something, a creature of sorta stood in the middle. A closer look revealed it was you, seemingly calmed down. Only to watch you thrash as you tried to pull an axe from your shoulder, the pain left it unable to come out.

“Y/N!” Very quickly backpeddling when you snapped your head in his direction, “Hey hey, it’s me! Mateo, the love of your life, ring a bell?” Watching you carefully while keeping a hand on his sidearm, eventually you relaxed, even laying down as he stepped closer. “Promise you won’t bite, yeah?” Huffing softly as his hand carded through your newly grown fur.

Reaching a hand up to his ear piece, “Found them, just need an extract team and a healer, those Kingdom agents got a good hit.” Making sure to not hit the axe, his hand moved towards your head, “We’re getting you outta here, let’s just hope Deadlock stays at base.”