#I think I’m hyperfixating on all of them simultaneously making it just one hyperfixation

[angelicmayhmen]

Hey guys remember when I was upset about hyperfixating on dr who

Guess what

[fckbatmanhiskidsareminenow]

i love the idea of damien being the most protective batkid.

like you’d think it was dick but nope it’s damien who was mostly raised by dick and has learnt to show his love and affection by worrying about and protecting his family in his own way. if u mess with any of his siblings be prepared to know why they call him demon brat.

when an old guy starts coughing up a lung at a gala while standing in front of an immunocompromised tim, damien immediately starts lecturing the guy about wearing a mask while simultaneously yoinking antibiotics out of tim’s pockets and handing him a glass of water.

one time a villain makes dick cry (maybe it’s scarecrow) and yes while damian knows dick cries often when he’s happy or proud or sad or sometimes when he’s angry but he has never cried in fear before. and damien is pissed because how dare you make his big brother cry? he beats the shit out of the villain.

(i’m doing two for dick because while i love the above one i realised the rest of them are civilian ones so i decided to add this one)

someone making weird comments about dicks body, stuff like, “what i would give to have him for a night”. damien is borderline murderous. “you know he has a name and Richard is not an object for you to use for your pleasure, he’s a person.”

someone says something ignorant about the people living in and around crime alley and before jason can even open his mouth damien is already going into how you should assume peoples living situations and how not everyone has the privilege the rich gothemites have.

someone says something weird and misogynistic about Steph? you already know damien is there defending all women and even bringing in points about why steph especially is incredible.

and you know if anyone said anything about any of his POC siblings ( dick, cass, duke) or himself he’s already on his “wait until i tell father that you have such racist ideals” and recording prepared to ruin this guys life.

someone is fetishising or infantilising cass? he comes out of nowhere with “she can speak for herself.” or “she’s not a work of art for you to stare and make comments about she’s a human being.”

someone making comments about how duke doesn’t below among high society because he wasn’t born into it. damien is there defending him and saying how he has better manners than they do.

this is very ooc but the idea of damien using his vocabulary to just absolutely eat people up is so pleasant to me.

also u can tell i don’t know much about the less “mainstream” batfam members but im doing my research and writing what i find down in my hyperfixation book.

[eyehearthoshi]

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ bang chan as enfj tropes

pairing ⟢ bang chan x gn!reader

warnings ⟢ mbti stuff lol. generalizations about enfjs and chan (i don’t know him personally obviously). not proofread oops!

wc ⟢ 949 (she short sorry)

author’s note ⟢ chan is pretty much the biggest enfj who ever enfj-ed so i knew i needed to make something mbti related for him!! mbti is a BIG hyperfixation of mine and i’ll probably do these for other idols in the future. i apologize in advance!

(this post inspired me to research more into mbti tropes)

➊ matchmaker crush aka the main character tries to help another character get with a love interest but oops!! the main character starts falling in love with the one they are helping…

oh i can see this clear as day because chan is very focused on helping other people. (i’m pretty sure he’s said before that he likes feeling needed by others??) so imagine if you came up to him asking for help with wooing your crush, he’d be so ready because you’re his friend!!! and he wants you to be happy!!!

and so he’s trying to set up situations where your crush could bump into you on “accident” and you can spend time with them (walks in the park, coffee shop hangouts, etc.) he’s talking you up to your crush when you aren’t there to show them how awesome you are. that kind of stuff.

problem is, he’s simultaneously realizing how awesome you are.

like he already knew how cool of a friend you are, but now he’s thinking about how cool of a s/o you would be.

i think he would freak out a little bit, not because he is uncomfortable with these type of feelings, but because you trusted him with helping and now he’s out here with the biggest heart eyes for you.

enfj’s dominant function is fe or extroverted feeling which means that they often prioritize others�� wants and needs before their own. chan would probably hold back his own feelings for as long as he could because he knows you want to be with someone else.

chan would kinda be jealous of you hanging out with your crush, but he hates feeling that way cause he thinks he’s being selfish.

(obviously this could end in angst with chan still loving you as you fall in love with another OR…it could end happily because i said so!! there is too much sadness in the world ok we are getting a happy ending!!)

maybe you saw how much effort chan put into helping you and how much he cares about your happiness and you’re suddenly like “who did i have a crush on again?” you realize you’d rather be hanging out with chan instead of the person you used to like.

you’d definitely have to be the one to confess on this one because chan doesn’t want to jeopardize the relationship you already have (plus, you know, he thinks you like someone else).

he’d probably be so shocked and happy when you told him!! like finally he can share all the feelings he’s been hiding from you! we just need more stories where the enfj isn’t the second lead ok i said it!!

➋ can dish it out, but can’t take it aka main character is a coy flirt with their s/o, but if their s/o flirts back they get flustered af

yeah, everyone, i didn’t actually find the real names for these tropes, but you know what i’m talking about right??

chan sometimes flirts with stays but the second anyone compliments him, he is suddenly bashful. i feel like this would easily translate over in his romantic life too.

enfjs are pretty good at appearing calm and cool when they’re actually nervous inside so chan is probably always a little flustered when he’s flirting with you, but this flustered feeling only gets worse when you decide to flirt back.

like imagine him saying cheesy pickup lines to you all day and giggling at your reactions, but the second you turn around and hit him with a “are you a camera? cause all i can do is smile when i see you” or a “you got a map? because i’m getting lost in your eyes” he would melt.

listen, i think chan is fully aware of his powers of flirtation, but i don’t think he would know how to respond if you took the upper hand and made him blush. he is a soft boy at his core, he told me so!

❸ knight in shining armor aka the main character likes playing the role of the protector and is always ready to defend their s/o

enfjs embody this trope because they aren’t afraid to protect and defend the people they care about (which is all people honestly lol). chan definitely gives me these vibes.

all i can think of when i picture chan and this trope is that one concert where he got so emotional and cried while talking about how he’d always protect stays. like yeah if you don’t think he’d have the same energy multiplied by ten for his s/o then i don’t know what to tell ya…

i don’t think this protectiveness stems from paranoia or anything. i moreso see it as enfj’s response to caring deeply about someone. as i mentioned, enfjs love people and they would truly defend strangers. so, when enfjs have someone who is special to them, they can’t help but feel this pull to be protective over them.

also, i must say that i don’t think chan would be one of those “protective” bfs that is actually toxic and possessive. no no, he’d be more the type to have you call him while you walk to your car at night so he knows you’re safe or the one to notice if you’re not feeling well before you do and offer to get you medicine/take you home/etc.

chan seems like someone who notices small things about people and uses that to be tuned in to other’s emotions. if you were dating him, he would definitely give you his jacket when you are cold. just remember to hold his hand to warm him up in return <3

[ovaryacted]

I don’t even want to say anything cause it fr doesn’t matter in the end, but y’all are annoying as fuck. Me and the people I actually talk to aren’t associated with that ppcu fandom confessions page. I don’t know who’s spreading that around, who started that nonsensical bullshit, but for the love of god just keep me and my friends out of it.

I’ve literally been talking about Jack Abbot fucking nasty, Pope Cody being a munch, and strapping Samira Mohan into the mattress. I don’t give a fuck anymore about the ppcu fandom, and I’ve been detaching myself from it for weeks. I don’t care anymore. I just don’t. Y’all can keep your mess and your drama and your discourse and your fics and suck each other’s dicks if it makes y’all feel better about yourselves. Stop putting my name in other spaces when I have nothing to do with that damn blog, I’ve literally had every single confessions blog blocked whenever they popped up. Also, just because I say things like “y’all” and “chile” and “yawp” doesn’t mean I’m one of the admins. Do y’all really think all poc talk and write the same?? Lmao man.

I have a full time legal job affiliated with the US DOJ & what’s left of the CDC and you can imagine I’m already stressed about that. I have a life, I talk to so many people off of this app that I’m mostly sending multiple people tiktok edits of different hyperfixations simultaneously. I don’t have the time to post or respond to multiple confessions a damn day, and I don’t have the time to be sending hateful messages on anon either when I’ve already blocked most of the people in the community or been blocked by them anyway. I’ve moved on, I don’t give a fuck what y’all are saying or doing anymore, everything on my end is literally filtered out so I don’t see anything TLOU or Pedro related, and I barely talk about him on here as is. Use y’all brains for once.

Leave me and my friends alone man, we don’t want any parts. You’ve literally already kicked us out of these spaces anyway, what more do y’all want?? 😭 Most of y’all being messy aren’t putting money in my pocket for talking shit, and doing this shit over tumblr dot com is just stupid man. Believe me, I used to care too much, and that was my fault and something I had to address with myself, but there’s no getting through to y’all. I think y’all should be more concerned about having tumblr and ao3 at all with 3 conservative laws being introduced to Congress. If you still want to waste your time and engage in messy fandom discourse, be productive and call your representatives and tell them you don’t support KOSA, H.R. 1690: SCREEN Act, and S. 1671 - A bill to define “obscenity” for purposes of the Communications Act of 1934.

Bust a nut, kiss a girl, do something, but leave us the fuck alone. Let me talk about my medical show in peace. Y’all can have Pedro for all I care, dejame tranquila! 😭

[cleavetheclover]

Clver, think about it...shadowire (platonic or romantic) domestic fluff,,, or just fluff,,, angsty fluff? ps this is just my sleep deprived ramblings

Like...

- Post Hourglass Omen being found by Cypher (probably willingly i don't see Cypher going to go see Omen if he'd rather not see Cypher) and just...a talk. Omen venting. Cypher comforting Omen and listening quietly. And then cuddles. A kiss when Cypher leaves Omen be again and an orange, "for luck," Cypher would say (knowing it had no such meaning)

- Pre Hourglass, Omen coming to see Cypher at night, cuddles and physical intimacy mixed with quietness, because if nothing else Over feels just a little more grounded when Cypher is holding him.

- Cypher noticing little quirks Omen has. Sometimes Cypher tells Omen about what he's noticed. Omen enjoys it because it at least means he's still human if nothing else. (I mean, what kind of monster has a preferred sitting position or a certain kind of wool they enjoy knitting the most?)

- Above, but roles exchanged. Omen notices things about Cypher that makes him Cypher and some that makes Amir. It's weird, Cypher thinks, I'd hate being known but it feels natural with Omen. (Inspired mostly by hermit card, which normally means like being known by no one but yourself)

ehh welp thas all i got in the brain goodnight I'm by no means asking you to draw any of these i just saw your ask thingy and went "bet lemme think"

Noooooo stop I stg every single member of the cyphmen community has the exact same headcannons please 😭😭😭

(Not that I’m complaining, that just means more food for all of us)

ANYWAY all of these are wonderful ideas and I definitely want to write all of them!!! Unfortunately I am rather swamped right now bc senior design is kicking my ass and job hunting is harder than ranking up in val, and my current hyperfixation is a game called Noita…

But I’ll definitely get back to writing as soon as my life stops being as volatile as a bucket of acetone.

Also I wrote a short thing for the hourglass thing I hope you like it! I’ll respond to the other prompts later

Post hourglass Omen:

I think he would shut himself in his room for a while and just sit there, completely overwhelmed and not sure where to go or what to do next.

Since it’s cannon that Omen can sense others emotions, I think pre-HG Omen would have already sensed a timid friendship and significant fear from Viper, but it wasn’t until post-HG that he knows why. He’s having this world-shattering realization that one of the few people he has trusted and befriended in this lifetime not only doesn’t return that friendship, but actively fears him, and for good reason.

Imagine learning that your best friend fears you, for an incident you would have never learned of—had you not hired a shady information broker to find it out for you.

Confirming that she sees you as a monster— something you never wanted to be.

Yeah, I’d be pretty lost and upset too.

So Omen is gonna be hiding in his room trying to figure out a path forward and simultaneously avoid thinking about said path forward.

Cypher, being the nosiest man alive, a friend of Omen’s, and also the guy who helped orchestrate the mission in the first place, is not gonna sit there and let Omen feel so alone.

He shows up and Omen really wants to just slam the door and tell him to fuck off, but he really doesn’t have the energy (and also can’t really afford to burn more bridges at the moment). So begrudgingly he lets him in.

Cypher softly says his name, “Omen,” but the shadow doesn’t dare look him in the eye. Instead he stares at the sentinel’s belt. Browth leather. Battle-worn. Probably replaced several times over, like Omen’s own combat gear.

The sentinel approaches, and Omen can feel a protective sentiment befitting his role as a Sentinel. It’s soothing, he’s felt it before, but he really wishes he weren’t the subject of such a keen emotion right now.

Cypher’s gloved hands come up to rest on the sides of his own shoulders. The intent is to be reassuring, but Omen doesn’t find it to be such. What is he supposed to do with his own hands, anyhow? Touch Cypher’s shoulders? His belt, or chest?? His waist???

Well, the chest option is gone, because the next thing he knows Cypher’s chest is pressed against his own. And his arms are wrapped around his back.

Omen always knew humans were warm, but for some reason, he had always imagined Cypher to be cold. Maybe it was the utter lack of skin showing. The minimal expressions in his mask. The way he never so much as brushed hands with anyone else in the Protocol, as if he were a robot like KAY/O. Hell, the literal killer-bot had a warmer attitude than Cypher most of the time. Maybe it was…

Whatever.

Cypher is warm. Like any other human. Embracing him without any reservations at all.

No fear. No pity. No grief.

It makes him feel like, for one moment, that maybe he isn’t a monster after all.

Omen responds in the only way he can think of: he ducks his head down and buries his face in Cypher’s collar, and lifts his hands up to Cypher’s back and pulls him as close as he can.

He smells like bar soap and leather. And something else more organic, musky almost like sweat, but that can only be described as subtle and pleasant.

Alas, their embrace cannot last forever. Poor Cypher is a man, not a scented candle or a stuffed animal that can be basked in or embraced forever. Omen releases him, already missing the warmth and the scents and the textures and the intimacy, but he would rather save face and keep Cypher comfortable than anything else.

Cypher seems… satisfied.

Omen isn’t sure how he feels.

There’s a long pause.

“I am not my past,” he blurts, immediately wishing he didn’t. He almost says something else to brush it away, but he knows that doing so will only dig a deeper hole for himself. He says nothing more and hopes Cypher will have the courtesy to do the same.

But the Sentinel, as always, has other plans.

“Neither am I.”

Omen’s gaze snaps up at that.

The Sentinel then reaches into a bag of items that he had discarded upon entering, and produces a ball of yarn and a small tin box.

“I have spent the last decade of my life paying for crimes too heinous to be named.” He comes to stand in front of Omen once again. “They called me everything from a villain to a monster to, well. ‘Villain’ and ‘monster’ in more callous terms.”

Cypher chuckled humorlessly. Omen dared not ask who ‘they’ was referring to, but got the feeling that he didn’t need to.

“I am not absolved from my past. I cannot fix the innumerable lives I have ruined or the things I have destroyed.”

Then he lifted the little tin up to his face. “But then again, what kind of monster has a favorite type of tea?”

In his other hand, outstretched to Omen, was the ball of yarn. “Or a favorite type of wool?”

Omen just stared at it. Cashmere imported from India, said the label.

“To the best of my ability— which admittedly isn’t much— I left it all behind.” Cypher somberly bushes the tips of gloved fingers across his masked cheek. “My name. My face. My skin, even.”

Omen tilted his head at that last one. It sounded painful. But then again, what about Cypher’s existence wasn’t?

“Like me, you might carry the legacy of a monster. But that does not mean you are one.”

The cashmere is soft in Omen’s hands. He runs his thumb along each strand, marveling in the gift. On its own, it didn’t feel deserved. But when he looks back sees the tin of tea being cradled in Cypher’s own hands, it does.

Former monsters sitting under a warm roof with their silly little domestic joys: the thought of it almost makes Omen laugh.

Cypher must have seen the way the tension eased from Omen’s shoulders, because now he is chuckling too.

Bastard.

“Omen,” the informant takes the revenant’s hand and says his name with that dratted melody of affection in his voice, “Would you like to knit while I brew us some tea?”

———————————————

Since you suggested an orange:

It’s a very cute idea— I think oranges are for luck and wealth in Chinese culture, not sure about other ones tho.

Unfortunately I’ve come to kind of associate them with mourning. My grandma passed away last summer, and my grandpa and I leave flowers and oranges on her gravestone when we visit. So I didn’t feel like writing that into this little story lol

And yeah I also incorporated your “what kind of monster has a favorite kind of wool?” Thing in here wahoo

[tophat-69]

Hey Hattie :) How do you usually come up with/write your stories? Like for example, do you get an idea and start to plan the whole fic around it until the end, or do you just start and go about it as you write? Do you listen to music while writing? And do you write for more than one fic simultaneously or focus on one fic at a time? Does it take you long to edit?

Hope those aren't silly questions, I'm just really curious cause I'm genuinely in love with your writing and to me, your writing style is so perfectly flowing, captivating and unique, I haven't come across many other fics that I enjoyed as much as yours (I read and loved all of your bsd fics and treasure them so much) <3

First, I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed my BSD fics! I know I’ve wandered a bit afield, but I still consider it my home fandom and plan to get back to it once my brain can latch back onto the manga. I nosedived into a new hyperfixation at the same time that I hit “I think I’d rather catch up to this all at once than try to figure out wtf is happening” with BSD, and it sort of threw me out of the writing headspace for them at an inopportune moment.

Now though I’m going to ramble and sound a bit chaotic because the truth is there is no rhyme or reason to how my brain works. And I really, really wish there was.

First, the easy part—I am always writing. I’ll have multiple stories going at once, but not all of them will ever see the light of day and some of the ones that will, I still post anonymously. It’s an old habit and probably a bad habit, but the idea of being Perceived still makes me nervous at times. And sometimes it’s just self-consciousness that I’ve been taken hostage by a fandom or story when I’m in the middle of something for another one. I often worry that it might frustrate or disappoint my friends who read my other works (see: what I tried to do with it’s the good, defining itself, my first Arcane fic, by starting it anonymously. I knew I was supposed to be writing my Detective!Chuuya AU but was kidnapped by codependent gay scientists).

Next easy part—I edit as I go, and then promptly open the chapter back up after posting to fix what I missed in the first place. Also to remove all the times that AO3 wants to add a space in front of punctuation. That part drives me nuts. …But then ANY time I read some part of something I’ve written, I inevitably go back in and tweak my wording for clarity. Or I fix my comma splices. Or to un-italicize words because I often write the way that I would read it aloud, but emphasis like that can be annoying. Or I rearrange a sentence within a paragraph to flow better. I genuinely cannot seem to open something I’ve written without doing that.

Which is why I don’t go back and reread my old works often and why when I get a comment on a previous fic it’s like falling down a rabbit hole in my own brain because “huh. I DID do that, didn’t I?”

Okay, now the harder answers! Sometimes an idea sort of thumps me upside the head and makes me do it. That one always includes when canon is going one way and I inevitably think “but what if it went THIS way instead!” Canon divergence and plot hole fillers are a staple for me. But then there are times where I know WHO I want to write for because they won’t shut up in my head, but I want to challenge myself. I’ve actually used trope spinners for that before, like Wheel of Fic. That’s actually how I ended up with April’s Fool and in its peculiar silence, actually! I had no plans whatsoever, I let it give me simple trope prompt, and then I stayed up all night writing something out of thin air.

…Which brings me to another answer. I veer wildly between being a “pantser” and a “plotter” as a writer. Some things it is entirely by the seat of my pants—and that’s not always just my short fics, either. I’ve got ideas, but pulling them together at the end is as surprising for me as it is for the reader. Sometimes I have things completely timelined, an outline, chapter quotes selected, twenty tabs of history and research open. And sometimes I go through all of that and still throw all of it out the window because something that would be more emotionally evocative came along.

For centrifugal/centripetal, for instance, I have several almost fully-written chapters sitting in a doc that never even made it in because I tossed them for something that hurt more.

Now, music! That… also depends. If I am nose to the grindstone just putting out chapter after chapter, chances are I don’t have music on because my brain is at capacity. But if I’m writing just to write, or as relaxation, I usually put something on. Usually nothing too booming, but I try to find an album or artist that fits the vibe and go with it.

Anyway, sorry for the long answers and thank you—genuinely—for the questions!

[teddyreblogslotf]

hi! so i don’t think it’s completely unknown knowledge that i have a HUGE hyperfixation on wizard101 (u should totalllly go play /nf)

anyways i hate jkr so here is a wizard au that isn’t hogwarts related (these are just my opinions but i have played as every school so i promise they’re informed):

jack: fire wizard ALL THE WAY. fire wizards specialise in damage over time attacks and are the second hardest hitter in wizard101 history. they are known to be the only school that even has the chance to solo the game because of how powerful their hits are and how good their health balances them out. my main is a fire, so i’m biased but this school is EXTREMELY fitting for him.

“Fire wizards tend to be smart, passionate, competitive, and attractive. Fire wizards have attack spells that linger, damaging their foes again and again."

ralph: storm. wizard. storm wizards give up accuracy and health to deal as much damage as possible. they truly are one shot wizards, and i have had very few issues with my storm wizard. he’s great, they kill first turn as soon as possible. this is the hardest hitting school and it rivals with fire for the hitter in a group, which i think is super relevant to the jack and ralph conflict.

“Storm wizards are often impulsive, educated, creative, and independent. Storm wizards are capable of devastating attacks, but have somewhat weaker defenses.”

piggy: balance. balance on its own is really nothing special, they’re generally a helper school, blading their teammates to make other people’s hits harder. they’re a known support school that i think piggy fits because they’re not really hitters, they’re just helpers to their friends.

"Balance wizards are wise, clever, thoughtful and charming. Balance wizards are great at adjusting to the rules of combat."

roger: death wizard and not because it’s obvious. death wizards rely on attacks that simultaneously drain their foe of health and then give HP back to the wizard. death wizards also have access to a ton of blades and traps that make their spells hit hard and heal for harder. death wizards (not NPCs/mobs) are so hard to kill because they just. will not. die.

"Death wizards are often solitary, driven, brave, and intelligent. Death wizards use drains, taking strength from their enemies and healing themselves."

simon: life! life wizards are not really hitters at all. i mean they have a few good hits and they can get by if needed, but the school was designed to be a healer school. life wizards aid their allies by healing them consistently whenever needed. they’re a staple on a team to be honest because they are easily the best school. it’s hard to kill a life wizard because they just heal over and over.

"Life wizards are often social, charming, funny, and spiritual. Life wizards are great at healing themselves and others."

maurice: life (again). i think maurice was such a supportive guy, it’s hard to see him as any other school. life wizards tend to be the building blocks of a team, and i feel like that really fits him :)

"Life wizards are often social, charming, funny, and spiritual. Life wizards are great at healing themselves and others."

sam: i split the twins up you’ll see why. anyways, sam is ice. ice schools are almost strictly defensive, they are absolute TANKS, coming in at 10K+ health by the time they’re fully levelled (other schools average 7-9K). this reflects on their attacks, which are less than ideal doing low damage. they specialise is defending themselves and their friends from attacks, with spells like tower shield that do a universal -50% incoming damage. their sole purpose is take the damage so that the hard hitters can get those hits in.

"Ice wizards are typically strong, loyal, courageous and honest. Ice wizards can take a lot of damage, but are somewhat weaker when attacking."

eric: myth. myth wizards are usually solitary wizards, who summon minions to aid them in combat instead of other wizards. their damage is run of the mill, they are probably the third hardest hitting school. they have everything they NEED to get by solo, but it’s not easy. myth pairs best with ice (imo) because if myth can hit and ice can tank, you’ve got a solid duo. which is why they are the twins.

"Myth wizards are usually Visionary, serious, competitive, and knowledgeable. Myth wizards often fight alone, summoning minions to aid them in battle."

[verdantglow]

that makes so much sense actually. i also am making some aus (unrelated) and am wanting to seperate them into little ficlets/art pieces/comics of the pieces that motivate me before even touching on an overarching story but also god is it difficult for me. if thats what works for you as well id definitely say treat it like that (also i would LOVE to see any animatics you do for this)

i personally am mostly watching the hermits doing their hermit crafting (currently watching 18 hermits simultaneously the hyperfixation is b a d) and a couple SOS members, though i plan to watch more of the creators. I've really only seen up to double life (all through grians pov), and i havent even finished that. in my defence, the "its for your secret soulmate" line utterly and completely destroyed me and i have NOT recovered since (i stopped watching his hermitcraft videos after that too until the start of s10).

i have made the resolution to go watch other povs but i need to finish his first rip.

ANYWAY BACK TO THE AU

How often do you think the vflarp games effect their out of game relationships? like obviously it led to them becoming friends and desert duo becoming "moirails" but like. Did double life cause a rift between grian and scar? has rendog being absent from the games had any significance on anything? (i havent watched further so i cant really give too many other examples). Do the winners get anything other than the satisfaction that they alone won?

absolute behemoth of an ask my bad

Yeah! There’s just something so appealing about being able to just jump around & do mini projects that go together rather than one huge one. I’m hoping it’ll hold off the burn out I inevitably get for my AUs. **stares off into the distance thinking about all my mega fics that only ever got three chapters** I get it being hard to break it down though! I hope you’re able to land at a place where you can create as easily & painlessly as possible. ^^

I feel you on the hyperfixation lol. I was doing that hermitblr survey that’s going around & realized that I watch every episode of a third of the server, & some to most episodes of another third. & there’s a handful in the final third that I’ve been meaning to watch, but haven’t gotten to because I’m so busy watching everyone else & thinking about fanworks. This season is just slamming all the good brain chemical buttons!

Tbf, “it’s for your secret soulmate” hit so fucking hard, I do not blame you an ounce for wanting to take a break after that! When you’re ready, I highly recommend Martyn’s 3rd life, it’s so good! I never quite got the Renchanting/Treebark hubbub as someone who’d only seen Grian’s perspective of that season, but after watching Martyn’s… The drama is just. So. Good. Martyn + Ren is just a combo of theatre kid lore nerds & it honestly slaps. Gem’s Secret Life is damn good as well, just ‘cause she got to be a chaos gremlin & we love to see it.

Oh yes, their VLARPing affects IRL relationships all the time! A lot of early relationships developed due to playing 3rd Life & those relationships continued on to influence who went on which ship once they reached adulthood! Obviously, we’ve got Scar & Griann, but also there’s Scohtt & Jimmie who became auspitices, & Wrehnn & Martyn who stick together & eventually become matesprits. Jimmie & Tangoh hit it off after playing Double Life as soulmates & eventually enter a [matespritship? Moiraillegance? Haven’t decided] as well. & of course, my beloved Boat Boys developed their weird whatevership around the same time. (Joel swears they’re pitch. Eethos never comments on it. The truth is somewhere around them being hate friends who are flushed for each other??? But fuck if you’ll ever get either of them to admit it.)

Things were pretty rocky for Scar & Griann after DL; the whole secret soulmate thing was a case of Griann being mildly annoyed with Scar & thinking he could get back at Scar/make Scar jealous. This blew up in his face ~*~spectacularly~*~ & it took quite a bit for things to heal between them. (Mummbo spent a lot of that time being very confused why the vibes on Scar’s ship were so fucking rancid until he managed to get Griann to fess up.)

There definitely is a plot related reason Wrehnn hasn’t been playing, but I’m holding back on finalizing anything until I get more of the out of game plot mapped out. But yes, that definitely affects/is an effect of things in game!

I think, much like in real life, winning is just for the prestige of it. Like, in this AU, the Life series is just a bunch of games they’re playing for the heck of it. Though this does make me think that I need to decide where these games come from, whether it’s a mass market thing or something Griann threw together or if maybe it came from some other outside influence. Hm…

[leadendeath]

it was only after i learned that 1. i am not alone in experiencing this feeling and 2. this can be an adhd thing, that i felt so validated in the feeling of “juggling hyperfixations”. it feels like this meme image ^ like that’s such a perfect visual to go along with what i’m about to say.

in the past i felt sooo bad when a new interest barged its way in to my brain’s Interest Room (i see my brain as a room ok, different people who are my selves and different interests come in and out!). i felt bad for classic rock of 60s-70s when homestuck decided to sit right in front of me like a pet who’s being annoying circa 2013. i feel a special hard-to-describe almost kind of STRESS? (but a very minor stress mind you) when i find myself present day, with not just two but THREE things i’m so freakin into. very strong interests. hyperfixations. i love having words now that my past self couldn’t use because we didn’t know the words existed. we didn’t know there was something “wrong”(i prefer to say there was something “different” instead 2 b less negative !)

so yeah the things i’m trying to juggle are:

doom the game and various genres of metal music (they go hand in hand, and sometimes they even collide! i have a whole youtube playlist of metal midis that would fit right in in doom wads, u can ask me for it if you like the same niche as i do!) (i listened to so much metal today it’s so great and diverse i love it so much great background music but also great Anything music <333 listen to it in a good mood or in a bad mood it’s there for you any time)

spenge bab. to relate this back to the previous point i just made above this one; i already said i’m one of those people who listens to horrible abrasive music but then is also simultaneously like “yayyy happy sea creature cartoon :D :3” like it’s so funny. u already know to the extent which i like this thing. it’s helped me get back into art (…which i don’t post to this blog; i have other spaces for this niche tbh) and when i first got into it it was there for me during a terrible time (i was having the extra big depression last year around july/august)

jerm. dear rat boy. like the point before this one, i started watching him a lot during the same extremely bad july/august 2023 time. i knew him a little before but he was another thing which i’ve (about to make up a new phrase here) special interest-bonded with, during a difficult time. sometimes when i’m actively in the bad episode, i think to myself “gee when i’m better i sure hope i can enjoy this media and not automatically associate it with a bad time D:” and YEAH! THAT DIDNT HAPPEN I CAN STILL ENJOY WATCHING HIM EVEN THO IM OUTTA THE DEPRESSION PIT FOR NOW!!! i worried this same thing about death grips when i was coping with them when i was in the pit and they happened to be my #1 fav band years ago . i still love them and can enjoy them without thinking of all the times i was in the pit !!!

so ya as you can see THESE ARE ALL VASTLY DIFFERENT AND I AM HAVING A BIT OF TROUBLE LOVING ALL THREE AT THE SAME TIME BECAUSE MY ATTENTION SPAN IS A LIL FUCKY BUT IT’S OKAY! I AM NO LONGER DOING THE POINTLESS SELF-PUNISHING FOR ENJOYING ONESELF IN LIFE BECAUSE THAT WAS THE OCD TALKING AND IS NOW UNDER CONTROL! THANKS FOR READING I AM FULL OF UNBRIDLED LOVE FOR EVERYTHING

[viyagari]

It’s Really One of Those Years, Eh?

I couldn't log in to Dreamwidth for some reason, so I had to go here.

First writing in 2025 and finally, an update for idk how long since I neglect my account.

It’s 5 AM, on the first day of 2025. I was forced to wake up by the sound of my cat’s auntie wailing at the door, begging for breakfast. Apparently, the door connecting the main room and the garage was opened. For a night, she was the queen of the house. I tricked her to go back to the garage and closed the door. Her reign was over. My dawn had just begun.

In a manner I found unbefitting even for my standard, I sat down and opened my laptop. As my senses started to come back to me, I typed this…essay? Confession? Whatever you call it. There’s something that I needed to let out.

What I wanted to say was…

2024 was a weird year for me.

A fact I believe nobody would be surprised about. Everybody knew last year was kind of a shitshow. Everybody was kind of unsure if this year things would stay the same, in terms of shittyness. There were so many, too many, bad things happening simultaneously. Everything, everywhere, all at once even.

A shitshow as dark as a blindfold over my eyes, our eyes.

Last year took its toll out of me, irl-wise. Right when I started to feel my age. Projects were hard to come. I made even less than the previous year. Worst election in my whole life, and even worse pre-election campaign months. Brain drain on the media, even more heinous brain drain on the internet. Kept my eyes on Gaza, the Palestinians suffered more than I did of course.

At one point, I thought perhaps it was easier to start over your country from zero. My country refused to die, yet somehow it always found a way to make things worse for itself. It kept dragging its rotten body like a zombie, and all of us who were trapped inside it.

My parents accused me of wanting the country to collapse when I debated them about the treatment of Rohingya refugees and the government’s inaction. You know what, maybe that’s right. Maybe I really wanted my country to collapse after all.

This stupid blind nationalism. Polarization even among those who were supposed to resist the government’s oppression. Police brutality went bolder for all eyes to see. Didn’t they realize that Kanjuruhan massacre was just two years ago? Oh who was I to say? Just blame the wind. Case closed.

Human tend to recall bad memories much easier than it is for good memories. It’s a part of our instinct. That’s how our ancestors survived in the wild. Little did they know it would also be the source of anguish for their successors.

This primordial instinct blinded me, and I was forced to navigate the year by haplessly feeling around. The pressure was crazy. Perhaps I’m starting to feel the psychological toll of living through the pandemic.

If you think my hyperfixation and the internet were my salvation during tough times, you’d be… I want to say “you’d be wrong”, but “you’d be right” is also valid.

I still had my DayTez hyperfixation. Past!me would’ve never written this much and made two fanbooks and a half (free paper fic). This counted as good memory. All the doujins and merchs and the printing put some pressure on me financially. And this was the bad memory, but it was entirely my fault.

First time attending Comifuro as a participant. Good memory.

Not selling even one book. Bad memory, but it was quickly offset when someone bought one on CF19 PO period.

Decided to commit to write fic in Indonesian. Bad memory, ‘cause I narrowed down my readership scope when I’m not even a big name ficcer. But it was also a good memory, once I realized that I could still write in Indonesia.  

Bought a new laptop. Now I could work faster and I don’t have to struggle with outdated software. Good memory. The new laptop put a pretty significant dent in my savings. Bad memory.

Finally returned to Jakarta and met my friends. Finally got to try that Mexican restaurant and took a lot of oshikatsu pics. Finally left the house to take a temporary breather. Good memories.

Fell ill halfway through the month and for most of the time I couldn’t go to as many places that I wanted. Felt bad because I couldn’t take my friends to the Mexican restaurant because of that damn sore throat & decided to stay in one place. Awful, awful memories.

The list could go on, but I should stop before it went nowhere.

I’m thinking about cool phrases to end this nonsense. I couldn’t think of one. Maybe leaving it without one is the best option. Truth is, I still have my blindfold on. I could pry it open, puffed up my chest, and said, “Maybe there’ll be more good things next year.”

But I have my doubts. I don’t think next year will be easier for me or anyone. That alone is another blindfold to replace the one I pried open.

I guess I will still be stumbling and feeling my way up for I don’t know how long.

[fumifooms]

My chapter 114 hopes are that Asa & Denji will be Miraculous Ladybug-ing all over the place— Making up dumb excuses to get separated while making sure the other is safe before going after the Eternity Devil believing they’re the only one who can save them from the mess, trying to keep their appearance as a totally normal human through it all “Hey what?? What happened to that devil that kept us trapped??” “Oh haha idk I guess Chainsaw Man found a way to come save us!! What a great guy right!!” “What” “Don’t worry about it” They’re not idiots despite significant evidence, so both of them would be like. “How come you didn’t die back there?” “Well ummm didn’t you know I’m an aspiring devil hunter!! Yep” Then the other finds it sus but remembers being an aspiring devil hunter is also their cover so they can’t act like it sounds fake. “Oh haha me too!! We make such a good pair!! Hahaha” “oh hahaha yeah haha” “hahaha” “haha…”. That or they just hate each other so much and seethe and are hanging onto their last shred of philanthropy to not leave the other behind for dead.

Someone else already pointed it out by Asa & Denji look like Marinette & Adrien from mlb and that is the funniest fricking shit ever. Take the love square but make it about eldritch entities and murderous betrayal.

You might say, but Fumi, he really wants his secret identity to be found out. Consider: they’re talking, and then Denji mentions Chainsaw Man will save them and Asa again says that she hates the guy, and this time Denji freezes and realizes blowing up his cover might actually get him to lose his date instead of win one. He already knows she dislikes him but if she speaks about her hatred of devils in general, plausible considering the eternity devil situation, getting all bloodlusty and tragic simultaneously + he got a bit more attached I think it could happen. And then it’d just add a glorious layer of fuckery, with Denji acutely aware that his secret identity is her hate boner. Or or, on the contrary, he  actually tries to make her find out in increasingly obvious and ridiculous ways but she’s set on believing he’s just a delusional fanboy. Either way I would be living and thriving for it.

Maybe they save a penguin together. Maybe the aquariums break in the fight. Maybe he sees her using her devil power, maybe- So many things could happen I need to exorcise my hyperfixation through writing fanfiction

[inksandpensblog]

Hello y’mind if I—

Dark did all the virus stuff fully in control about it and it wasn't the mission code that flipped them off

To be fair, not everyone headcanons that Dark still has the mission code by The Showdown; and even those who do may headcanon it as dormant. I know a while back it was popular to headcanon that his mission code was erased when he and Chosen grasped hands for the first time, just before the bluescreen.

I love both takes, honestly. Because yeah if he still has the mission code then he’s winning every moment that he doesn’t give in to it, but if he doesn’t have it…then yeah, it was all him and he willfully turned.

The AvA 10 victim is actually the OG victim that came back from deletion and isn't one of the clones because yeah why not

I’ve seen theories that noogai drew victim more than once- as in, he thought he was drawing multiple victims but it turned out he always drew the same victim so the experiences carried over -and that AvA10 victim is once again the same victim and simultaneously all of them at once. (No idea whether the victim in AvA1 is meant to be the first or last or one of the middle ones in this theory.)

Admittedly I’m not really sure how AvA10 victim being one of AvA1 victim’s clones might work, because didn’t they all get deleted with him? At that point if there’s a plausible explanation for the survival of a clone then the survival of the OG is automatically plausible.

(Personally I also use the headcanon that victim’s clones operate as a sort of hivemind; one consciousness spread across multiple bodies. Since I don’t see them as independent from him I see no reason they’d act any differently than the OG in any given scenario. But I know that headcanon isn’t as popular.)

Second unlocked their powers not because Chosen fully gave up on fighting and thus "The Chosen One's return" but actually just because they're angry and sad that their friends died and apparently it conveniently unlocks right before Dark unleashes the Virabots to the internet

I only found out about this idea recently XD it’s neat.

The mercenaries actually don't have backstories and they're genuinely just side characters with no big deal at all except for being victim's workers

I dunno about big-deal backstories, but I feel like they’ve gotta at least have notable origins or else what’s the point of making them so distinct.

The grey rocket corp workers are grey so they don't stand out much and they aren't clones

Your line between Doylist and Watsonian is getting a bit blurry here /lh I’m sure the meta reason they’re grey is so they don’t stand out much, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be a more compelling in-universe reason. While I’m personally fond of the idea that they all paint-bucket-fill themselves grey when they come to work and they can be any color imaginable underneath, I’ll admit the clone idea is growing on me what with how they’re the only sticks aside from Agent who are animated on pivots. (Like, Alan could’ve animated them the same way he animates all the background sticks and just made them all grey, but he didn’t. He had to give them the pointy elbows. Something that makes them stand out even as they’re meant to be easy to overlook.)

Alan actually didn't really think of the plot this deep but our minds are just to far hyperfixating over sticks so our imagination starts going crazy

I think it’s a mixed bag; I know he’s taking some stuff much deeper than I ever thought he would, but yeah other stuff he doesn’t think that deeply about. I can’t wait to see where he takes us next. (And to be fair, there have been several times where Alan put something in a video just because he thought it was cool and we had to wait a few episodes for him to give it some sort of story basis, so time will tell.)

What if

We're just exaggerating everything

Dark did all the virus stuff fully in control about it and it wasn't the mission code that flipped them off

The AvA 10 victim is actually the OG victim that came back from deletion and isn't one of the clones because yeah why not

Second unlocked their powers not because Chosen fully gave up on fighting and thus "The Chosen One's return" but actually just because they're angry and sad that their friends died and apparently it conveniently unlocks right before Dark unleashes the Virabots to the internet

The mercenaries actually don't have backstories and they're genuinely just side characters with no big deal at all except for being victim's workers

The grey rocket corp workers are grey so they don't stand out much and they aren't clones

Alan actually didn't really think of the plot this deep but our minds are just to far hyperfixating over sticks so our imagination starts going crazy

Gosh I just woke up stop giving me stupid ideas brain

[itsevanffs]

Hihi!! I've been hyperfixating on tommary lately and I absolutely loved (In the dark!)! I wanted to see if u have any tommary/harrymort fics that u recommend.. preferably ones that feature a possessive Tom ^^ ty in advance

I guess this would be the right time to publicly declare my bookmarks as open? Everything on there is a hard rec, and I vigorously quality-check those... for my liking and my liking only. (Sorry, not sorry. They're there for me, after all.)

That being said, hmm. I've got a few you might like.

Below the cut: more (additionally to my bookmarks) Tomarrymort (Tomarry or Harrymort) recommendations with possessive/obsessive Tom in alphabetical order; NOT order of how much I enjoy them. I'd argue I enjoy them all equally, just in different ways.

Ps: thank you! I'm incredibly flattered you liked my work :D

and don't let the police know anything by littlecupkate https://archiveofourown.org/works/24920947

Ted Dirlod is dangerous, Harry Potter knows this for a fact, but the man was still his only hope at escaping a doomed fate. It is never wise to blackmail a crime lord. It is even more unwise(?) when said crime lord is obsessed with you. An expanded version of "praying to whatever's in heaven, please send me a felon"

Genuinely lovely? Ticks all my boxes, at least, and minimal angst, which is always a plus. That being said, you should probably read the work mentioned in the summary as well for context. But hey. Two cakes by one person ;) Can never go wrong, can it?

As Certain Dark Things Are to be Loved by Strange_Soulmates https://archiveofourown.org/works/6015619

Tom was Harry's best friend growing up and his first love. At eight, Harry gave Tom his first kiss before moving away. As a freshman in college, the name of the RA on the door across the hall is terribly familiar.

Also absolutely deliciously indulgent. Tom is a possessive terror and Harry loves him for it. Need I say more?

Harry Potter and the Search for Ancient Magic (series) by Snickerdoodlepop https://archiveofourown.org/series/1133141

Once Voldemort realizes that Harry Potter is his horcrux, his plans change drastically. So does Draco Malfoy's assignment for the school year. Harry's sixth year starts going very differently. Snape is on a mission. Harry needs to learn pureblood politics. Draco Malfoy is trying to convince Harry to forgive him. Voldemort finds himself visiting Harry Potter in his dreams. Everyone is realizing that no one is quite what they thought. And through it all, there's a mystery. What is Ancient Magic? Can Harry use it to save himself or will it pull him toward the dark side?

Honestly, genuinely, hands down the best fucking tomarrymort series I've ever read. Hard, hard rec from here. The first work is completed and the second is in progress, so it's a nice pile of words to chew through!

can't commit to anything but a crime by caelesti https://archiveofourown.org/works/27286483

Excitement is the word he does not dare utter, even in the privacy of his own mind. It’s wrong, he knows. These women are people, in their own right; people with fears and aspirations, with friends and families and dreams, and to have anything cut those lives short is nothing but tragic. To have anyone cut those lives short is nothing but condemnable. He doesn’t have James Potter’s laugh lines, but he does have his father’s innate flair for danger. He doesn’t have Lily Potter’s enthusiasm, but he does have her insatiable curiosity. (In every world, Harry will excel at finding the biggest spot of trouble available and sticking his nose in it.)

Hot serial killer serial killer hot. That's it, those are the thoughts. Please read.

Dripping Fingers by May_May_0_0 https://archiveofourown.org/works/25440826

When Harry finds Tom Riddle's diary he does not write 'Hello.' He does not write anything at all. He draws. Tom Riddle falls in love with the artwork. _________________ Sketch by sketch, drawing by drawing, the ink Harry pours into the diary manifests as creations in Tom's monochrome world.

Okay so if I'm the reincarnation of Shakespeare, May_May_0_0 is fucking... Ted Hughes. Which doesn't say much to your average viewer but that man wrote my favourite poem ever (the one I based my war fic off) and I hold him in very high regard. This story? It is poetry in its rawest form. Pure, condensed beauty. If you decide to read only one of the fics in this list, please choose this one.

Either must die at the hand of the other by Metalomagnetic https://archiveofourown.org/works/29356095

Voldemort survives the Battle of Hogwarts because Harry Potter had not been the one to kill him, as the prophecy demands.

When is Metalomagnetic not a master of words? When will I cease becoming breathless at every paragraph, at every cleverly twisted word that comes back and reveals itself so beautifully later?

Fine Line by galaxiesundone https://archiveofourown.org/works/26949952

Magic always leaves traces. The lingering darkness of Sectumsempra, combined with Harry’s nature as a horcrux, awakens the soul piece contained within Ravenclaw’s diadem. At twenty years old, Tom Riddle walks a fine line between man and monster, the devil and the light-bringer in one. His influence forces Harry to face an ancient enemy unlike anything he has faced before: temptation.

Long story short: Tom Riddle is Hot and Good At Being Hot and Harry truly doesn't stand a chance and I am here for it. Lord help me I love this fic to pieces.

Good Intentions by Strange_Soulmates https://archiveofourown.org/works/7035334

Five year old Harry Potter meets and befriends a seventeen year old Tom Riddle while hanging out at his dad’s station. James Potter decides to take Tom under his wing, using Tom’s connection with Harry to try and keep the teen grounded, even as he begins to investigate the Death Eaters, a dangerous organized crime group and their mysterious leader only known as Lord Voldemort.

The sheer potential of this fic. The horrible, terrible dread of future events that have yet to be revealed. I will cry.

Honey, Smoke, Shiver by machiavelli https://archiveofourown.org/works/16068062

Harry - Omega, only son of Lord Potter - is nothing more than a useful playing card in a political game of power and money, one that is bought by the famed Tom Riddle: powerful, dangerous, pureblood Alpha. Unsurprisingly, Harry loves being underestimated.

Machiavelli is always a rec from me. Sorry lads but that's the way it is. Never a moment where I won't recommend their stuff.

Sickly-Sweet Obsession by maquira https://archiveofourown.org/works/18259103

Quiet, studious Tom Riddle spends his first year thirsting after an older student—Gryffindor’s Quidditch Captain, Harry Potter. His crush is common knowledge, and even Harry finds it cute… at first. Possessiveness spawns monstrosities. Tom does all within his power to mess with Harry’s dating life. And one seemingly harmless crush spirals into something darker, begetting deadly consequences.

Again; the potential. Delicious. This will bloom into something beautifully twisted, I'm sure of it.

Stars, Hide Your Fires by Audair https://archiveofourown.org/works/27745546

Riddle’s undivided attention snapped to him with the swiftness of shattering glass. His turbulent magic receded from where it had besieged the shop. "You,” he breathed. Coiling in leisurely motions, the eager tendrils of his magic reached for Harry, swathing about his limbs and neck and chest with a liquid, flowing fascination. "I’ve been looking for you,” Riddle continued, tilting his head to the side and sweeping his gaze over Harry. It was an appraisal that felt simultaneously like the raking of iron nails and the tender drapery of silk. It was so familiar, and yet… so foreign. In the winding streets of Knockturn Alley, an intricate dance of mutual obsession unravels between twenty-three-year-old Tom Riddle and a time-travelling Harry Potter.

This work has recently been undergoing a rewrite, and I can tell you with certainty it's only gotten better for it. It's beautiful; the setting, the atmosphere, the vibes... Perfection. Captures Knockturn Alley's mood impeccably and does not disappoint a single moment.

the pleasure, the privilege by asterisms https://archiveofourown.org/works/21227528

It begins with Vernon Dursley's body, dead across the table. In which Voldemort is dosed with amortentia, and nothing is better for it.

Completed, terrifying... and gorgeous.

The Shrike (to your sharp and glorious thorn) by PaperWorlds https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380079

Shrike: A songbird with a sharply hooked bill, known for their habit of catching insects and small vertebrates and impaling their bodies on thorns, the spikes on barbed-wire fences, or any available sharp point. A young Harry Potter survives an attack by notorious serial killer Voldemort. Over a decade later, they meet again.

Lads I'm so desperate for an update from this fic that I might cry if I think about it for too long. I keep saying it and I'll say it again; this is one of those fics with amazing potential that are sure to never disappoint no matter what path they take. An incredibly hard rec.

To Raise a Servant by bluegrass https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780816

Tom had found the boy amidst pouring rain. He figured he'd always wanted a pet snake.

Surprisingly not quite as dark as the summary makes it seem? I certainly enjoyed it, though, and that's why it's on this list.

What He Grows To Be by Severus_divides_into_H https://archiveofourown.org/works/19042240

Tom Riddle is a frightening coil of darkness, cruelty, and greatness, and changing him is Harry’s only hope for saving people he loves. Going back in time, he takes Tom from the orphanage, but his optimism shatters with every year they spend together. Tom still longs for darkness. Tom stifles him in his possessiveness. Tom is fixated on him to the point of destroying the world just to keep him. But Harry loves him. And the future changes.

Beautiful. And absolutely terrifying. I've started crying mid-scene at least three times for this fic, and it honestly seems unfathomable if you haven't read it if you're on my profile, since I think this is one of the fics that have shaped my style and ambitions. It is what I aspire to be.

[bonesandthebees]

We saw Tommy, Ranboo, Puffy, and Technoblade all going somewhere together.

Tommy must be scared fucking shitless right now. I would bet a lot of money that there was something else going on. Either the four of them were heading into a big important conversation, or they just had a big important conversation. While I expressed in my last ask that I think Phil cares for Wilbur, on some level, it’s not out of the question that Phil’s still doing manipulative stuff.

So I think that Techno and Phil have both noticed the brothers acting strangely, and they’re both addressing it with their respective narrative partner. Phil does so with much more tact. Before the revelation with Ranboo, Phil’s scene with Wilbur would’ve come off as really sweet. It’s only the context that makes it so problematic.

Now this is obviously all speculation. But I think Technoblade was trying to have some sort of conversation with Tommy. Maybe he was asking Tommy if something was wrong/something changed. Maybe he was trying to help Tommy with Wilbur. I’m wondering why Ranboo and Puffy would be there. Techno would probably pull Ranboo in for emotional support – either that, or he told Ranboo his plans to talk to Tommy, and Ranboo convinced him to let him in on the talk. Puffy though? I don’t know, maybe it’s similar to Jack? Is she being Tommy’s escort now? Or is it somebody else? I forget if you mentioned that

Regardless, I wouldn’t be surprised to see that come up again in tomorrow’s chapter.

In other news, I’m loving the feel and tone of this chapter. Time for me to nerd out about writing techniques. You really changed up the structure and pacing of this chapter and it works so well. I know some of that has to do with the chapter being split, and I think it unintentionally makes the chapter even better as it would’ve been as half of a whole. The shorter than average wordcount and impactful scenes really picks up the pace and signals that shit is happening.

This chapter was so unique in so many ways. It was the culmination of one of the major arcs of the fic (Wilbur’s trust issues), it changes up many relationship dynamics, it gives the reader hope while simultaneously cultivating a sinister fear that things are about to go down.

I’m a nerd. I’m a huge nerd. This fic makes me want to start doing video essays. When Stars ends, prepare for the essay. Because once it’s all over, I need to talk about structure and pacing and character development. Those three things are very intertwined, and nailing them all makes for a truly amazing story. You’re nailing them all. I know that I give a lot of compliments but I just have to because damn.

Stars is lowkey my hyperfixation right now. Maybe highkey

-🔥

hmm a big important conversation could've happened... or maybe tommy is just spending time with the people he's supposed to be closest with in the palace. we don't know. but either way, phil and techno have both noticed something is going on with the brothers, i'll confirm that. also, puffy is tommy's escort now. I believe I mentioned that back when jack told wilbur that he was just his escort now? maybe I forgot, if so that's on me. but puffy was only there because she's tommy's guard now like how jack is for wilbur.

aaaa I love when you guys point out details about the writing techniques I use!! yes I changed up the structure of this chapter a bit. I wanted it to feel kind of movie-esque while also keeping a layer of mystery for the readers. you find out about the plan as wilbur goes to the different people involved. you don't know what he's doing until he's asking jack or asking quackity for their help.

I do wanna say though, even split, this chapter was over 9k words. it was by no means a shorter than average chapter. I can see how it might've felt like that or you just assumed since I had to split it, but it wasn't shorter lol.

this chapter was so fun for me to write because it felt like so much was culminating all at once but it was also kind of an interlude chapter. just preparing everything for the escape. the calm before the storm.

aaaa I would be extremely excited if you wrote a whole essay about stars because I've put so much effort into it and I'm so so proud of how it's turning out. it makes me so happy to hear how much you guys enjoy it so thank you so much flame anon. pacing and plot structure and character development are definitely the elements I focus on most when writing a story, so tysm for telling me I'm nailing it

[celestial-fucking-weeb]

Anonymity be Damned

Hi, everyone! This is my first ever fic, and it’s a part of the Citrus Server collab! I’m so excited about it, and I know it’s super self indulgent, but I worked really hard on it and I hope you like it. Please give me feedback and tell me what you like and what I can improve on; also, please be nice to me, I’m a baby.

MASTER LIST IS  HERE  Go check out everyone’s hard work!

Warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, AGED UP (mid twenties), fluff, brief angst, insecurities, smut, body worship, chubby kink, marking (hickies), Papi kink

Pairing: Sero Hanta x chubby!female reader

Taglist: @reinawritesbnha

Prompt: "Masquerade balls were something you’d only ever heard about in movies. You couldn’t deny the prospect was intriguing; donning your most elegant attire, confidence boosted by your anonymity and the intoxication brought on by such a magical atmosphere. You and your fellow partygoers were almost doomed to desire, inhibitions washed away long before the wine and spirits started to flow.

The mystery, majesty, and potential for mischief were far too enticing to resist.

So, when you received an invitation to Midnight’s Masquerade, you didn’t think twice about accepting…"

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Of course, not thinking twice about accepting came back to bite you as soon as the realization set in that you would, in fact, have to go. Suddenly hyper-aware of your need to buy a dress, and knowing how little you enjoy shopping, you call your best girls for the job. A quick text to the groupchat had Mina and Yaomomo screaming with excitement that you were actually asking to go shopping. Jirou and Ochako sharing your apprehension, and Hagakure and Froppy bowing out due to their schedules, but wishing you luck with sweet emojis.

Yaomomo chose the dress shop, under the enthusiastic offer that she’d pay to ensure everyone would receive something from her favorite designers. You knew this was a place only Yaomomo could frequent- beautiful gowns lined every wall, display mannequins donning the most gorgeous dresses, made of the best fabrics with jewels perfectly beaded in, none of which had price tags so as to not “ruin the material” as she had told all of you. Whisking you all into dressing rooms bigger than your entire apartment, the staff practically fawned over each of you, offering assistance, refreshments, recommendations, and- oh fuck- measurements. Nerves shot through your entire body and made you nauseous, ready to make a stupid excuse to leave before your insecurities were announced to your girlfriends. You’ve always been...bigger.

The word tasted bitter on your tongue. The consultant made barely a sound as she pulled out her tape, but you heard it. That little “hm” noise, indicating judgement, knowing that most of their stock isn’t going to fit you properly, what with your plump thighs, soft tummy, squishy arms, the rolls that seemed to stay no matter how many workouts you do..

“We don’t carry plus size gowns, but I’m sure I can find something for you.”

All is confirmed when she says those stupid fucking words with that Joker-esqe smile and that hint of disgust in her tone. ‘I shouldn’t be here, I never should’ve accepted that invitation, why did I even think this was a good idea, the whole thing is for beautiful skinny girls like your friends, this is all a mistake,’ you think to yourself, insecurities and anxiety flooding your brain. Mina’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.

“Excuse me, I don’t believe we asked for your personal opinion on her body. In fact, I believe we only asked for you to do your job, but if you can’t complete such a daunting task, I’m sure there are 20 other people who’d love to take your place.” she grinned, in a tone too perky for her threatening choice of words.

“Also, as I happen to frequent this shop, I know your entire inventory. As such, I know that you do, in fact, carry gowns for each of our sizes. If you can find one to fit my chest, I know you have a variety of gowns to fit my beautiful friend, y/n. I suggest you begin pulling them, as I’m sure you’ve gotten the measurements you need. Now.” This time it’s Yaomomo, handling the situation with dignitary-level finality, before gracefully walking to you with a comforting smile. Ochako wipes a tear you weren’t aware had fallen, attempting to comfort you with false empathy, saying how you two are “practically the same size”, but you know you’re not. It’s comforting nonetheless, having the support of your friend group. Jirou cracks self deprecating jokes to lighten the mood, complaining, “If I have to wear a frilly gown to this bullshit, so do you, y/n. You’re not getting out of this that easy,” and you absolutely know she means it.  

With your spirit slightly renewed and the consultants carrying in a multitude of dresses, you all end up having a blast laughing about how the pink ballgown does not fit Jirou’s aesthetic and the skintight green satin number Ochako tried on would quite literally have Deku passed out on the floor. You giggled with Yaomomo about how certain dresses looked risqué and nearly pornographic on your respective figures. Mina whined about how each dress didn’t have enough glitter, her complaints falling on deaf ears. Over the course of two and a half hours, each of the girls had secured a dress. Mina, in a teal mermaid-style dress with enough sparkle woven into the tulle to blind. Jirou, in a simple deep purple velvet gown that gracefully fell off her shoulders. Ochako, deciding, after much peer pressure, to opt for the green satin to make Deku drool. Yaomomo, in a red gown with beautiful beading, and a deep V neckline. You, on the other hand, were struggling to find something that doesn’t have you hyperfixating on one aspect of your body or another, limiting your breathing and movement so as to not further sink into the mean thoughts swirling around inside your head. The girls have gone into full support staff-mode, bringing you dresses of every cut known to man, offering more champagne to dull the anxieties, Yaomomo even offering to make you a custom dress with her quirk. Jirou sheepishly comes into the room, head down, hoping no one brings attention to the fact that she just sifted through dresses for a good 15 minutes and didn’t hate it, before nudging your soft side. You turn to her, defeated, and ready to give up, when you realize what she’s holding. She’s picked a dress for you, even though she hates shopping anywhere that isn’t blaring music through the speakers and dimly lit. You smile sweetly at her shy offering, reaching out to take it before she pulls back.

“No, I have an idea… I know it’s easy to look at your insecurities before the dress is all the way on, and I think you should let us help you into it with your eyes closed… Then, when you turn around to the mirror, you can see all the beautiful parts, like we do!” She looks down at the floor as she mutters the words, as though she’s embarrassed to be so soft and sweet.

“THAT’S A GREAT IDEA, JIROU! OH MY GOD, Y/N, YOU HAVE TO LET US DRESS YOU, IT’LL BE JUST LIKE CINDERELLA WITH THE BIRDS AND THE MICE, COME ONNN…” Mina bounces up and down, grabbing your hands and pleading, knowing you never say no when she gives you such excited eyes.

“Uh… fine… Yeah, I guess it couldn’t hurt. It’s not like I have anything to lose.” You shyly whisper, looking away.

If it were anyone else, you’d never want them to see you getting dressed, soft tummy and extra squish uncovered, leaving you vulnerable to their judgement. But these are your best friends, you’d known them for years. They’d held your hair on your 21st birthday, and cuddled into bed with you when you were crying over unrequited love. They’ve had your back, they’d never make fun of you, and Jirou chose this dress all special for you, you couldn’t say no. With that, you turned around and closed your eyes, arms out and waiting for them to help you into whatever Jirou had deemed right for you.

“Okay, y/n, almost done, just have to zip this last part up and… DONE!” Mina and Yaomomo stepped back from their positions holding the sides and pulling the zipper, respectively. Finally admiring the you in the dress, there was a moment of absolute silence. You started shifting uncomfortably, wondering just how horrible you looked if they didn’t even have words to describe it. Ochako was the first to break the quiet and a teary-sounding “You’re so beautiful, y/n.”, followed by Mina’s signature squeals of excitement. Yaomomo clasped her hands together and began ranting about “how gorgeous you looked” and “how perfect the dress was” and “how she didn’t even know they had this one yet”. Jirou, sensing your anxious shifting, finally told you to open your eyes and turn around with a hand on your shoulder, the satisfied smirk on her face audible in her now assured voice.

“Oh… wow…” was all you could manage to say, eyes wide as you saw yourself in the full length mirror. This was, in all honesty, the first time you felt beautiful in years. The dress did nothing to hide your body- no- it somehow managed to accentuate every single curve in the most beautiful way possible. The gown was black, made from silk and taffeta, with some built in structure, and oh so soft. Simultaneously comfortable, secure, and elegant, the strapless gown mimicked a one shoulder, right side jutting up in an asymmetrical style and the left dipping just low enough to show your cleavage before cascading down your curves, hugging each roll of your body gently, showing off your figure and flowing down to the floor with a slit up your thigh, only visible when you walked and showing the ample flesh of your hip and thigh. God, it was perfect. You felt strong and classy and sexy and beautiful. Turning to Jirou, you pull her into your chest and hug her, thanking her a thousand times for finding it.

“Whoa, hey, okay… I’m glad you like it, you look absolutely beautiful. But- um- hey, can you let go? I’m suffocating in titties here.” Jirou laughed, genuinely struggling to breathe in your embrace.

“Oh shit, sorry, Jirou! I’m just so happy, I love it so much! I kinda forgot you can’t breathe when I do that…” You chuckle nervously, releasing her from your embrace.

“Yay! Okay, now that everyone has a dress, let’s go purchase them and get some food. I’m starving!” Yaomomo pitches the idea, and everyone agrees, excited to hurry out of the shop for a meal.

_____________________________________________________________

The day had finally come, and your nerves felt fried. The other girls all had dates; Momo and Jirou deciding to go together, Ochako with Deku, even Mina was going with Kaminari. But here you were, riding in the car service alone, makeup absolutely flawless, complete with falsies and red lipstick that was the perfect shade to stand out against your skin. Such a shame no one was going to be benefiting from your efforts tonight, although the thought that your longtime crush, Sero Hanta, would be in attendance was enough to urge you to adjust your carefully placed mask, ensuring your anonymity and polishing your confidence. Sero had been in your friend group since high school, and was the first person you truly warmed up to upon your acceptance into the group. You quickly became the “shy little sister” to the loud ones in the group: Bakugou, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Mina. Jirou and Sero were more your speed; quieter, more laid back and chill, with great senses of humor that not everyone was privy to. With Jirou as your designated best friend, Sero was proclaimed the unrequited love interest. You friendzoned yourself almost immediately, assuming Sero wouldn’t go for a girl like you, not when he was tall, dark, handsome, and muscular. A budding pro hero wouldn’t want you, not with your shy insecurities and soft body…

Little did you know, Sero had been pining after you since the beginning, flirting with you subtly in hopes that you’d express your interest. Eyes wandering down your curves during movie nights, taking in your too-small shorts and how your oversized shirt would raise just enough to see your little tummy pouch, wishing his face was buried between your plump thighs, praying he would be able to leave hickeys on every delicious roll, pleading he could see those cute chubby cheeks covered with tears while your plush lips wrapped around his cock… No- he couldn’t think of you like that. After all, you never returned his flirting, and there’s no way you’d like him when you could crush on manlier guys like Kirishima and Bakugou. ‘He was just a “dollar store Spiderman”, as Bakugou liked to call him, just a guy… Nothing special…’ he thought to himself as he adjusted his own mask in the bathroom mirror at the gala. His friends had all confirmed that you were coming, and that you were coming alone (said by Kaminari while wiggling his eyebrows). Every other person in the group had a date, including Bakugou and Kirishima, who had to practically drag the former to the event in the first place. He was the only one “stagging it”, aside from you, who would no doubt attract attention and end up going home with some flashy hero higher ranked than he was. He sighed, adjusting his tux jacket and cufflinks, and exited into the main ballroom to get a drink.

You walked into the venue, checked in, and stood frozen outside the ballroom entrance. You adjusted your mask, steeled your nerves, and squared your shoulders, reminding yourself how absolutely gorgeous you looked and donning your best “bad bitch” aura. You strut into the place like you own it, suddenly very aware of how many people there are, scanning for familiar faces as you sway your luscious hips to maintain your balance in your heels.

“Holy fuck... “  Sero utters, jaw slack and eyes locked on you. You’re so perfect, breasts bouncing with every step, thighs and tummy jiggling, soft smile gracing your face. He’s staring, and Kaminari has to elbow him to wipe the drool from the side of his mouth before you get there. You’re equally as enchanted, seeing Sero in his black fitted tuxedo, crushed velvet lapels, tapered pants making his quads look positively biteable, crisp white shirt tailored over his pecs, black bowtie (slightly crooked, very fitting of his personality) and mask obscuring his face, leaving him as nothing more than a handsome stranger. A  yellow pocket square catches your attention, reminding you of your favorite hero in his costume. You smirk to yourself, knowing you chose yellow gold heels specifically because they reminded you of him.

“See something you like, Sero-buddy? You’re staring so hard, you’d think she was God.” Kaminari punches Sero in the ribs, trying to break the spell. “Maybe you should talk to her, finally get over your crush on y/n by getting under someone else.” he winks, completely unaware that he’s talking about you in both respects.

“Uh… I don’t know, man. I think I’ll give it a minute, maybe grab another drink and enjoy the party for a while. I’m not trying to start hitting on some random chick just yet, though hot she may be.” Sero laughs, rubbing the back of his neck like he always does when he’s nervous. He diverts his eyes down to his drink, downs the rest of the liquid, then focuses back on you. You wait at the bar for your drink of choice, aware of that beautiful stranger still staring and leaning against the counter just enough to push your ass out. You hear him nearly choke on his drink, and move around the party satisfied with yourself.

A few drinks later, you find yourself on the dance floor, watching from the edge and lightly swaying to the music. A masked man with shaggy black hair, who you can only assume to be pro hero Grand, given his mask barely covered a fourth of his face probably only worn to fit the theme, approached you for a dance, hand extended and bowing at the waist.

“A lady as beautiful as yourself shouldn’t be a wallflower. Care to dance?” he asks, voice low and alluring, looking down at you with a mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes.

“I might…” you smile shyly, taking his hand and letting him lead you.

Once out on the dance floor, he pulls you into his chest with a hand on your lower back. It’s nice to be wanted, to dance so close to a man who finds you beautiful, especially one as chiseled as Grand. ‘Wait- is he…? Are you fucking kidding?’ Your fight or flight response kicks in as soon as you feel his hand drift lower and lower onto your ass. You pull away, ready to ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but before you can get a word out, he puts a hand over your jaw, fingers tightly snapping your mouth closed. Unable to speak and too shocked to move, you feel helpless as he whispers in your ear.

“God, I love fat girls. Your self esteem is so low, I can do whatever I want and you’ll fall for it. So stupid, so fun.” His laugh is so dark, and you start to panic before a large, strong hand reaches between the two of you and wraps around Grand’s throat, yanking him back and off of you.

“Listen, this is a classy place, so I’ll give you a choice. Either you apologize to this absolutely gorgeous woman and get the fuck out of here, or I beat you to a bloody pulp right here and ruin both your suit and your face.” The handsome stranger who had originally caught your eye growls, voice so low and intimidating you didn’t doubt for a second he meant every word. ‘His voice sounds so familiar, but I can’t quite place it. He’s so angry, and he’s speaking so low, I can’t figure out where I’ve heard that before.’  Thankful for his saving assistance, and trying to calm yourself from hyperventilating, you watch Grand’s retreating form before turning to the man who is quite literally your Prince Charming of the evening.

Voice still low and angry, “Listen, I need you to distract me. Calm me down so I don’t turn around and kill that guy.” he seethes. “You are stunning, absolutely gorgeous. He was so wrong. He’s an asshole, absolutely vile, and he never should’ve even had the nerve to approach you, much less touch you. God fucking damn it, I should-”

You cut him off by pulling him close, placing your hands on his chest and letting them roam up to fix his still crooked bowtie.

“Thank you…” you whisper, tearing up as you put your head on his chest. His cologne is so calming, his scent enveloping you as his arms instinctively wrap around you and his hand finds the back of your head, holding you to his chest.

The two of you slow dance in silence, his head resting on top of yours, the scent of your shampoo and hairspray comforting him and taking him to a dream where he was dancing with the y/n he knew, feeling your soft body pressed against him, imagining how you’d look in the dress on the girl he was actually dancing with. ‘Oh fuck, y/n would look so fucking perfect in this. Her curves- fuck, this dress is soft- I would absolutely love to run my hands along her body in this dress, press her up against me like this, fuck her thighs- wait… SHIT-FUCK-NO’  Snapped out of his thoughts by the increasing tightness of his tux pants, he prays to god the sexy girl pressed against him doesn’t notice.

You notice something nudging against your thigh, breaking you out of your daydreams about the mystery man being Sero Hanta, opening your eyes before you realize exactly what you’re feeling. ‘Oh… OH. Holy fuck, did I make him hard just dancing? He- uh- feels… big… Maybe if I just-’  you subtly shift your hips, thigh brushing up against him and slotting between his legs just enough. A deep groan rises from his chest, and he leans down to your ear.

“Babygirl, if you keep doing what I think you’re doing, I’m going to have to return the favor~” His voice sounds so familiar, but the lust clouding the low rumble has it taking on an entirely new timbre. You lean in, feeling emboldened by his words, swiping your tongue along the shell of his ear with a simple “Oh really?~ And what if that’s the goal?”

With that, he crooks his finger under your chin and presses his lips to yours. What starts as a sweet and simple kiss quickly evolves into a deep, passionate kiss that left you breathless. His fingers gently resting on your neck, just above your collarbone, and tongue swiping at your bottom lip. You sigh into him, granting him access and letting his tongue explore your mouth, relishing in his deep rumbles and pressing impossibly closer, hoping he’d get the message and take you somewhere more private. Luckily, it seems he seems to read your body language and leads you to a side hallway by pressing his hand on the small of your back, possessively guiding you. Pushing you up against the wall, he leans back in to resume kissing you, with an arm steadying himself above your head. In a simply embarrassing display of clumsiness, your hand reaching for his cheek goes slightly off course, accidentally knocking off his mask and causing you to fumble to the floor to retrieve it. Upon looking up, you see Sero standing with a flushed face and his hand reaching up to the back of his neck, the endearing nervous tic you’d learned from him over the years. Oh God, if your heart wasn’t beating fast enough before, it sure as fuck was now… The man you had yearned after for years not only swooping in to save you from some low-life creep, but also having you in a kabedon against the wall of the fanciest place you’ve ever been in. He laughs, nervous now without his anonymity, and reaches down to help you up.

“I- uh- sorry, I might’ve gotten carried away. I hope you’re okay, I know I’m probably not the hero you wanted. I really do think you’re beautiful, you actually remind me of someone I know and- wow- I’m rambling…” He goes on like this, panicking that he’s somehow ruined your fantasy and disappointed you by existing. He only shuts up when you stand back upright and kiss him softly.

“You’re exactly the hero I want… The hero I’ve always wanted.” You blush, staring up at him with the most loving doe eyes you can manage.

‘Wait… Her voice… Is that- ?’ Sero came to quite possibly the best and utterly terrifying realization; that the girl he’d been lusting after all night and the girl he’d been wanting for years could be the same girl. He hesitantly brought a hand to your face, lightly grazing your mask as though asking for permission. You nod, never breaking your gaze on his concentrated expression, and parted your lips. He gingerly lifts the mask from your features, damning your anonymity, and each of you hold your breath in anticipation. The way he looks at you is like something out of a movie, or one of those shōjo manga you love to obsess over: pure relief, adoration, lust, love. Oh, you want him to look at you like that forever.

“Y/n, I-... You have no idea how happy I am that it’s you. I have been wanting to kiss you for years, and to finally do it, and with you looking… Wow- you are so fucking stunning, I have never seen anything as beautiful in my life. Fuck, I just- I wish I could tell you how perfect you are, express in words how flawless I’ve always thought you were- still do… “ Sero breathed all of this as though he had to get every word out before you disappeared. He held your face in both hands, lightly squishing your cheeks and stroking his thumb over your lips, taking in your hopelessly enthralled expression. “You know what? Fuck this. No- I mean- not ‘fuck this’, I just… I want to do this right. I want you, I need you. I want to express how important you are, I need to show you that you’re everything to me. I want to worship you, kiss every inch of your body and make you feel so incredibly complete and full and whole and appreciated. Do you understand?”

“Hanta… I- Yes. Yes. Please take me home, I need you. I want you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.” You lean into his touch, wanting to be ever closer to his warmth.

You yelp as he suddenly picks you up, bridal style, as though you don’t even provide a struggle.

“HANTA, you can’t be carrying me, I weigh more than you, no no no, I’m too heavy, you can’t-”

“Y/n. I’m a pro hero, are you seriously telling me I can’t carry you? I can carry 3 people at once while hanging from a strip of tape in midair. I’ll hold you up forever if you’d let me.” He squeezes you in his hold, emphasizing his point.

His cocky attitude was majorly driven by how good you felt, soft tummy and jiggling tits against his torso, the perfect squish of your thighs in his powerful arms, chubby hands and cheeks tucked into his chest and the crook of his neck. He swore he could die happy right there. In the elevator, he took a moment to take in your entire figure, but upon reaching your feet, something turned him absolutely feral. Your shoes. You were wearing his colors. Every single piece of clothing matched his hero costume. ‘Holy shit… You knew. You wanted him before this even happened. You were his.’ The possessive growl that tore from his chest startled you as he adjusted you in his hold. He had your legs wrapped around his waist, hands unapologetically on the ample crux of your thighs and ass, lips on yours in a desperate kiss that was all tongue and teeth, grinding his hard cock against you. You whimpered against his lips, shocked by his sudden change of demeanor.

“Fuck, you’re wearing my colors, aren’t you? You want me to claim you? You want to be mine? I’ll give you anything you want, babygirl. I just need you to ask for it.~” He growled against your neck, nose tracing the column of your throat.

“Hanta, please, yes- ah~. I want to be yours. I only want to be yours. I need you. Please, please, please.” Normally, you’d be way too shy to beg this much, embarrassed about how desperate you sound, but fuck he’s making you so needy. The gasp that escapes you when Sero licks a stripe up your neck turns into a moan when he starts sucking a hickey over your pulsepoint. He feels so good, the heat between your thighs steadily building with every nip of his teeth and roll of his hips. You thread your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck and pull gently, earning a groan and a buck of his hips. He works his way up to your jaw, leaving pretty little marks in his wake, and returns to your lips like a safe haven. He strokes your tongue with his own, committing your taste to memory. He never wants to forget this moment, especially not when you lightly suck his tongue and pull him in further with those perfect fucking thighs. You’re so soft, being wrapped in your plushness with his fingers digging into the pliable flesh of your ass is too much. Sero’s sinful thoughts are interrupted by your fucked-out voice, so small and innocent, as though you’re afraid of his answer.

“Um… Can I- can I touch you? I mean- I- can I mark you, too?” You sound so unsure, not used to someone wanting to show you off.  You’re so breathless, and he’d be lying if the pleading in your voice didn’t make his dick twitch in his pants.

“Awwww~ is my babygirl shy now? You want to mark me, too? Go ahead, mi amor, sí se puede. I’m all yours, just like you’re mine.” Sero cranes his head to the side, baring his neck to you, waiting for you to bless him with those full lips, waiting for you to make a show of him finally having the most perfect girl he’s ever known.

If he could’ve taken a picture of your face in that moment, he’d look at it every day. Squishy cheeks blushing, eyes wide with surprise and excitement, gaze clouded with lust. You were so pretty, he couldn’t wait to ruin you. Sero moaned as you sucked a small dark mark onto his skin and happily carried you from the elevator to his room. You tighten your arms around him when he reaches for his key card, involuntarily pushing your chest together and pressing up into him.

“Oh, mi corazón, if you keep pressing into me like that, voy a tener que lamer cada parte de ti y puede que no te deje ir…” His threats sound more like promises when he’s carrying you through the threshold and placing you down gently, though his hands never leave your body.  Tracing your sides, memorizing your curves, squeezing any part he can get his hands on.  His right hand inches down your torso, resting on the pouch of your tummy and making you flinch. Sero notices and worries he’s hurt you, or that you don’t want him to touch you. The hurt in his eyes is obvious when he takes in your tense muscles and eyes squeezed shut, realizing it’s your own insecurities holding you back. He wishes you could see how beautiful you are, see yourself through his eyes. He was going to make you feel so fucking loved, he just had to show you what he couldn’t express in words. You stripped him of his jacket as he unknotted his tie. With nervous hands, you unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it past his broad shoulders, fingers trailing down his sculpted chest and lean abs, admiring the enticing adonis belt and pretty trail of coarse black hair disappearing into his pants. Sero, with his ego now boosted by the lustful look in your eyes as you took him in, returned your gaze to his face with an intensity that made you shiver. He kept eye contact while sweeping your hair to one side, and slowly unzipping your gown. Your breath hitches in your throat as he leans down to place open mouthed kisses along your shoulders as he pushes your dress down your body, kissing down your arms as it falls, and places a sweet kiss to your hands. Pushing you onto the bed with a soft thud and climbing over top of you, he moves the hands that raise to cover yourself , grasping your wrists in one hand and cupping your cheek with the other, as he softly reassures you.

“Princesa, please don’t hide from me. I’ve waited for you for so long, and I want to worship every inch of you. I’m going to make you cry out my name, and show you just how perfect you are while you cum on my tongue. You will not say a single bad thing about mi amor, you understand?” he says lowly, so loving yet commanding.

“Yes, Hanta… I- I’ll be good for you, I promise.” you whine, praying your submission would please him.

The sound of his given name in that pleading tone has him painfully hard, but he’s too focused on hearing his name from your sweet lips again to care. You pull him down into a passionate kiss and roll your hips against his clothed cock when he laves down your neck and leaves love bites across your chest. He sucks your nipple into his warm mouth and rolls the other between his forefinger and thumb, earning a high pitched keen from you. He switches to give the same attention to the other side, tongue swirling around the peaked bud and relishing the way your chest heaves just from his mouth on your tits. ‘So needy… Fuck, how did I ever wait this long to see y/n like this and hear her sounds?’ Sero thinks to himself, so ready to watch your eyes roll back in your skull the minute you feel his cock fill you. The thought of you bouncing on his dick, watching you jiggle with his thrusts, letting him grip the fat on your hips and help you fuck yourself on him, feeling your lovely thighs straddle him, has him impatiently rutting into the mattress. He needs to taste you, leave marks all over your delicious tummy and thighs, and feel you coming undone beneath him. His large hands slide down your sides, rubbing back up under your breasts, gripping the extra flesh over your ribcage, the soft love handles on your sides, caressing the perfect pouch of your belly and settling on your hips. His mouth follows the path of his hands, kissing and licking every place you had deemed undesirable like they were the sexiest pieces of you, leaving dark hickeys on the front of your hips to remind you that all of these parts were now his to love.

“Lo siento, babygirl, pero no puedo esperar más, necesito mi lengua en ese bonita coño jodidamente ahora. Estas necesitan estar en el suelo ahora.” If his panting growl of Spanish didn’t already have your pussy gushing, his strong fingers ripping your panties and hoes off your body had you dripping onto the bed. Your shocked squeak turning into a moan when he parted your legs and nipped at the soft skin of your inner thigh, Sero is beyond delighted by feeling your beautiful thighs squishing against his face. If he could choose his end, it would undoubtedly be suffocating between this plush heaven. He snaked his arms under your parted thighs to hold your hips, squeezing and marveling at the feeling of your warm body protruding between his spread fingers, trying to fit as much of you in his grasp as he could and never getting enough. You’re just about to plead for him to touch you where you need him most when you lock eyes and hear the teasing lilt in his voice when he groans “Itadakimasu~” and flattens his tongue, licking a long, slow stripe up your slit.

“So wet for me, princesa, is this all for me? You’re so thoughtful to give me a meal so sweet.”

“Hantaaa, please. I want you, please don’t tease me, please touch me. I need- ah~”  

Your begging is interrupted by his tongue diving into your sex, lapping at your slick like a man starved. The moans coming from the man between your thighs were sinful; in this moment, Sero Hanta was no longer the friend you’d watched superhero movies with and silently crushed on for years- he was a man, a lover, all you’d ever wanted. Wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking the sensitive pearl into his mouth, he pulled one hand from your hip and slowly slipped two long fingers into your sopping heat. The callused pads from years of hero training now rubbing perfectly against your walls have you crying out for him and grasping his hair, begging him to go faster. He suddenly props himself up, bringing his palm up to grind against your clit and slowing his thrusts, wanting to hear you beg for him and watch your desperate facial expression.

“What is it you want, babygirl? C’mon, you’re going to have to use that pretty little mouth of yours. Tell me what you want, baby, use your words. I wanna hear you beg for me.” That normally dopey smile was replaced with a lewd smirk, hungry and covered in your juices.

“H-Hanta, please please please. I need you, need your mouth. Please I wanna cum, please let me cum, I want you to fuck me! Please please pleaseeeee~” Hips bucking forward, sweat lightly covering your skin, hair splayed out, body covered in his marks, begging for him… Shit, he’d give you anything you asked for. Oh, he’ll give you what you need- don’t you worry.

“Good girl, such a good girl for me. I’ll make this pretty pussy cum. Hold onto me and just relax, princess.”

His lips returned to your clit, flicking his tongue and sucking lightly, and increased his pace. He curled his fingers just right, finding the spongy underside of your clit and he chuckles darkly to himself when your back arches, head falling back onto the pillows.

“There it is~, there we go, babygirl. Cum for me, just like this. I’ve got you, let go, cum on my fingers.”

It doesn’t take long after his mouth goes back to nursing on your clit and his fingers continuously hitting your g-spot for the coil in your belly to finally snap. You climax hard, eyes screwed shut and screaming out his name as his tongue works you through your high. Once you’ve come down, you open your eyes and see Sero sucking his fingers clean of your release and unbuckling his belt with the other hand. You sit up to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue, and unbuttoning his pants. He grows impatient with your pace, shoving his pants and tight boxers down at once. ‘Fuck, his dick is pretty’ you think to yourself, marveling at the masterpiece before you. He’s long, maybe 8.5-9 inches, thick enough to stretch your walls so deliciously but not too thick to fit in your mouth, prominent vein running along the underside and leading from the neat crop of black hair to the leaking tip, begging for your tongue. You start to rise to your knees before being pushed back into the duvet, looking up at him in confusion.

“No, no, mi amor. As much as I want to see your beautiful lips wrapped around my cock, that’s gonna have to wait. I want to be inside you, I need to fuck you until all you can think about is me and how fucking beautiful I think you are.” His eyes are so sincere. He looks down at you with the most loving stare you’ve ever felt, so calm and safe in his presence. You’re lulled into submission, every doubtful argument you had died on your tongue, and a soft moan escaped your lips. He leans over you, bracing himself on an elbow with his hand on your jaw to keep your eyes fixated on him. The other hand wraps around the base of his cock and teases the head along your slit, pressing on your clit just enough to have you squirming, trying to impale yourself.

“So needy for me, so wet. You’re so perfect, babygirl, I wouldn’t want to go too fast now. I want to savor every inch, feel you stretch around me while I watch those e/c eyes roll back in pleasure.” He holds back from thrusting into you when you whine in response, breathing heavy and struggling to get him inside. “Damn, baby, if you’re that desperate, why don’t you tell me exactly what you want? Beg for my cock, mi amor.”

“PLEASE, I need you inside me, please! I need your cock. Please fuck me, Papi~” You gasp out in succession, trying out the name you had once heard Kaminari teasing him about. It was a desperate attempt to get him to move, one your fucked-out brain decided was your best shot at getting him feral. And holy shit were you right. Sero fills you in an instant, hard length thrust to the hilt in your tight hole, causing you to cry out, eyes rolling back just as he promised.

“FUCK!” He’s losing restraint, driven mad by the filthy name coming from your angelic lips. The squeezing and fluttering of your walls is the only thing grounding him to Earth as he smirks down at you, baring his teeth while his other hand comes to wrap around your throat and apply light pressure to the sides. “Oh you know what you’re doing, don’t you? You have no idea how many times I imagined you calling me like that with these soft thighs wrapped around me; trust me, it’s nothing close to how sexy the real thing is. If you want to play dirty, princesa, don’t blame me when you can’t walk tomorrow.”

He backed up his statement with a few deep strokes that had your mouth falling open and eyes unfocusing, still unable to look away from the man about to wreck you. In a weak attempt to ground yourself, you reach up and place your hands on his back to feel the flexing of his muscles as he gave you slow, deep thrusts. Running your hands along his shoulders had your pussy clenching, and the groan pulled from his chest accompanying a harsh increase in his pace had your nails clawing at the corded muscles, causing him to put more force into fucking you into the mattress. A cycle of reactions, spurring the other on to continue and escalate.

“You feel so good, babygirl. S-So tight, you feel like you’re fucking made for me. I love you so much. I love everything about you. God, I fucking love your body- I love your curves, I love your legs wrapped around me, I love your sexy fucking thighs, I love your cute tummy- love how you feel pressed against me, I love running my fingers up your arms and kissing back down, I love gripping your hips when I hold you, I love watching you jiggle when you walk and bounce when I fuck you like this. You’re so fucking beautiful, so perfect for me.” Sero babbles out praises like he’ll die if he doesn’t get them out. You’re a blushing mess, knowing these words are completely true, tumbling out of his mouth unconsciously as he thinks them. “I love that expression, angel. Still so shy at my praises, even though I can feel you trying to milk my cock at every word. Such a good girl for me. Why don’t you tell me who makes this pretty pussy feel so good, huh? Say it, angel.”

“Hantaaa~ you feel so good. Please don’t stop!! I’m so close, please. I wanna cum, I wanna cum on your cock, please Papiiii~. You make me feel so good. I love you, I love you, I’m all yours. Please, I’m yours-ah~, I wanna be yours. I need you, I love you so much. Only you could make me feel like this-fuck- it’s only you. Please make me cum, Papi~” Your moans and pleas are getting louder and louder, chasing your impending climax. Every emotion flowing out of you, combined with the wonderful overstimulation, had tears rolling down your pudgy cheeks. You hadn’t yet realized you were crying when Sero leaned down to kiss and lick away the salty streams.

“Okay, princesa, I’ll give you what you need. How can I say no when you're being so good for me? Such a beautiful mess, all for me. So perfect. My good girl~” His right hand smoothes down your torso and settles between your thighs, rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Come on, babygirl. Papi’s got you, I’ll take good care of you. Cum for Papi. Cum on my cock.”

Your final orgasm has your back arched off the bed, eyes crossed, tongue lolling out, screaming out a string of “Hanta”, “Papi”, and “I love you”. Sero keeps his pace steady, fucking you through your climax and trying to prolong it as long as he can. The feeling of your doughy pussy clamping down around his cock like a vice, the gloriously wrecked ahegao face, and the sound of your cries as you creamed on his dick had him right on the edge of his own high. He started to pull out, not wanting to cross any boundaries, when he felt your legs pull him in even further. He looks back to your face; hazy, loving eyes drawing him in with that innocent look.

“Please cum inside me Papi, I want it! I’m yours, I want you. I want you to fill me up.” The permission to claim his longtime love and the aftershocks of your orgasm having you still pulsing around him finally push him over the edge. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, sucking and biting in a feeble attempt to muffle his moans of your name as his hips stuttered, thick ropes of cum warming your insides and painting your walls white. You feel so full and so content. Staying inside you, Sero rolls the two of you over to lay on his back, still holding your sweaty bodies together as he kisses your forehead and strokes your hair, telling you how good you did, how happy he was, how proud he was of you.

No one has ever made you feel so good, so wanted. Normally, your post-sex thoughts are plagued with insecurities, but instead all yoou can think about is Sero and how perfect this was. How beautiful he made you feel… and how you didn’t want it to end.

“H-Hey… Um… Sero?” you timidly get his attention.

“Y/n, I’m gonna need you to start calling me Hanta if we’re gonna be together. It’s a little weird to call your boyfriend by their family name, isn’t it?… Unless you wanna call me Papi, of course~” He says, his normal goofy grin and teasing tone returned.

“Wait… You- you really want to be with me? You don’t want me to keep it a secret? I will if you tell me to… I don’t want to embarrass you, I know I’m not exactly the ‘trophy wife’ the other heroes go for… I just really like you- um- actually, I’ve been in love with you for years now, and I just got really excited that you wanted me and-” Your nervous muttering is cut off with his lips softly pressed against yours, his hand moving to intertwine your fingers with his.

“Mi amor, I’ve been in love with you for just as long. You are my trophy, the greatest part of me. Every single thing I said is true, and I’ve thought those things for our entire friendship. If you think for a second that I won’t be walking around shirtless, showing off all of these marks to Kirishima and Kaminari, you don’t know me at all.” He winks at you and brings your hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss there. “Princesa, babygirl, mi corazón… Nunca te dejaré, yo nunca te dejaré salir, yo prometo. I am yours, and you are mine.”

“I love you, Hanta.”

“I love you, too, y/n.”

You fall asleep on his chest to the calming rhythm of his heartbeat and steady breathing. Upon waking up, you assume you had just dreamed the entire affair, chalking it up to your vivid imagination and drinks at the ball. That is, until you realize you’re trapped in a tangle of limbs with Hanta, leg hiked over his body and arms encompassing each other. You try to shift slightly to see his sleeping face, but he stirs and rolls over on top of you with a groan. The jolt of his muscles jerking awake told you he also thought he had dreamed the entire thing, believing that the prospect of your mutual pining actually coming to fruition was too good to be true.

“Good morning, angel. I’m so glad you’re real… And that you’re all mine.” Sero softly sighs, voice rough from sleep, nuzzling his face into your chest and squeezing your soft midsection to hold you closer.

“Good morning, love. I’m so so happy, but there’s one thing…” You say, trying to hold back your giggles.

“What is it, baby? Is something wrong? What did I do?” Sero starts thinking of every possible scenario as you soothe his thoughts with a cheeky smile.

“I- um… I think I need you to carry me to the shower, you weren’t lying when you said I wouldn’t be able to walk in the morning.” Both of you erupt in a fit of laughter. He scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the shower, so content in finally having his girl.

___________________________________________________________

A/N: WHEW okay… I’m actually really proud of this, and I hope you guys like it. The Latin Sero headcanon hits me so hard and I just absolutely simp for this sweet tape boy. Huge thank you to @reinawritesbnha for inspiring me to write this matchup, @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten for encouraging me and giving me the courage to post, and my dear, sweet Sage for reading it to make sure I don’t embarrass myself and inspiring me to write in the first place. <3

[crushing-on-nico-di-angelo]

Okay, here's the actual chapter 3

7 Nights in Cabin 13

Nico took a small step backwards. “I’m sorry,” Will hesitated. “I shouldn’t have asked you, I know you probably don’t want to and--”

“Hey, woah, I never said I didn’t want to. I was just shocked. Not everyday I get asked to sleep with someone-- I- I mean… you know what I mean.”

Will giggled. “So does this mean you do want to?”

“...Yeah. I guess it does.”

Read (and maybe give kudos?) on ao3

~~~~

Lying in Nico’s bed, side by side, wasn’t as awkward as Will thought it would be. The comforter was very comforting and warm. The warmth of Nico made his heart beat faster, he hadn’t slept next to anyone since he was about seven years old having a nightmare about goats and crawled into his mami’s bed.

Nico turned to him, so Will made the necessary adjustments.

“I hope you don’t mind that I kept the window open. The light… helps.”

“I’m the son of Apollo, Neeks. I don’t mind at all.” Nico’s face softened. Will stared at his eyes, and he swore there was a universe of activity and stars in a dark brown expanse. He was lost in trying to pinpoint every constellation that he didn’t notice Nico’s hand reaching for his hair until he felt the tentative ruffle.

“Ah, sorry. I can stop if you’d like. Bianca…” Nico cleared his throat. “Bianca used to do this to me when I was having trouble sleeping.”

“Don’t stop,” Will murmured, once again feeling the effects of sleepiness. “Please.”

Nico closed his eyes and continued softly playing with Will’s hair. Will was simultaneously hyper-aware of how nice it felt to have someone play with his hair and extremely at peace, letting sleep overtake him.

<i> A wedding. Drinking gasoline. Pain in his right leg. Silence; eternal, deafening silence. </i>

When Will opened his eyes, he was acutely aware of the hand resting on his head. A bit of drool was pooled underneath his chin, but how could he move when Nico was still asleep holding his head? Nothing to do now but stay still and think.

<i> Alright Solace… I’ve been putting it off too long. How did I get here? …Nathan is how. But I don’t want to think about him. Which is fine, because I haven’t seen him in years, so I can’t exactly pin this on him. How did I get here <b> now? </b> ...I got into my head again is how.</i>

He remembers it, his relapse, but not exactly.

He was showing Clarisse how to complete an advanced archery move. He may not have been the best in comparison to his siblings, but he and Clarisse had been best friends after the Battle of Manhattan. They had gotten clean together. He had to help her with the archery.

But then. The way he positioned Clarisse’s arm. He remembered that was exactly how Fletcher positioned his. He remembered Michael doing the same for other campers. He finished teaching Clarisse the move and left to go to the showers.

He pushed the thought out of his mind-- or, he tried to. He couldn’t think of anything at all, and his breathing was getting so, so heavy. He turned on the water to hide the noises he was making, hyperventilating. They were dead, they were dead, and he <i> knew</i> they were dead. Why couldn’t he get it through that thick skull of his? He knew they were dead he saw it happen, saw the bridge collapse. But it was all he could think of, all just looping through his mind, over and over and over. No release. No end in sight to the looping thoughts. Breathing breathing breathing only not in the way he was supposed to. Suffocating on too much air and not enough oxygen.

And then the dysphoria kicked in.

His chest hurt. His chest hurt so fucking much. In addition to the binding he was doing, he was breathing so, so hard. He wanted to take the binder off, but his clothes were too wet and it was stuck. Thoughts looping, never stopping. Dead, dead, dead. Never going to be a real man. The sound of the explosion being nothing and everything to him all at once. Losing the first person to help him. Wanting so badly to hurt himself but having nothing to do so with. And then remembering what he did in the following months.

He let the water of the shower run over his soaked clothes while he focused on what he did after they died. The Hypnos cabin, they helped him forget it, but in the wake of his panic attack he remembered where he put them.

The last of his stash.

The next thing he knew, he was frantically searching for pennies with a flashlight in a camp that didn’t even use American currency-- his mind finally off his dead siblings-- at midnight outside of the Hades cabin. And thank Zeus for that.

...He was a weak person. As soon as things got tough, he went with the convenient solution. He’d always been a bad friend and a bad son because of it, and he likely always would be. Things got better for a bit, but looking at himself now? How could he ever think of himself as a good person after this, when it’s clear that he’ll always be fucking… <i>weak</i> like this….

This wasn’t something he was going to forgive himself for anytime soon. Not at all. Especially not for concerning Nico like this. He could have handled himself.

<i> Could I have handled myself?</i> he wondered. Nico shifted in his sleep, his arm now draping over Will’s shoulder. <i>Does it even matter right now? It’s too late to change it.</i>

He tried to settle into sleep again, but he found that he couldn’t. He also didn’t want to think anymore about what happened to get him here in the first place, when he could be messing around with his friends and cabin-mates while canoeing. He could be trying for the camp record on the lava wall. He could be doing a million things… but he fucked it up. Gods, he already said he didn’t want to think about it. So why was he?

He sighed softly, not wanting to disturb Nico. He snuggled into Nico’s embrace, not realizing how close they had gotten when they were asleep. His nose was nearly touching Nico’s and he noticed the faint freckles splashed over his nose and under his eyes. They were so light that you had to be inches away to notice them, but Will suspected that he would <i>only</i> notice them from now on. Just like his eyes, Will felt compelled to trace out constellations.

Will had posters and posters back in his home in Austin about stars and space exploration. He memorized constellations and had a hyperfixation on planets from ages seven to eleven. He still had all of that knowledge in his head, and it was remarkable to him how many constellations he found on Nico’s face. He pulled one of his hands from under the covers and started going over them, trying not to touch Nico’s face. He did lightly trace Nico’s nose, and was surprised when Nico didn’t even stir. He started feeling more and more relaxed, tracing what was almost the big dipper; he eventually fell asleep again with his hand cupping Neek’s cheeks.

He dreamt rough dreams, but was fortunate enough to wake up not remembering any of them.

~~~~~~

Will woke up and felt an absence of warmth. He saw Nico leaning against the doorframe, his silhouette framed by the hall light. He stood there, unmoving. Will would have wondered if he had fallen asleep again if not for the fact that he was standing fully upright. Nico knocked gently on the wood of the frame before walking away. Will wondered what that was all about but didn’t want to ask. He stood from the bed and walked to Nico’s bathroom to splash his face. He stood up and was hit with dizziness. There was a clock by Nico’s bed which read ‘8 P.M.’

“Ah,” he murmured himself. “That’s it.”

He fell asleep with Nico at around noon, which meant he hadn’t eaten in nearly 8 hours. He shivered from the cold. He grabbed a jacket hanging from the bed and walked out.

“Hey, Neeks,” Will felt a bit odd. They had been so intimate with each other earlier, he wondered if that would make things awkward between them.

“Hello, William. How’d you sleep?” Nico seemed to not mind, so Will decided to play it cool.

“Alright. I dreamt, so…”

Nico chuckled. “So not the best it could have been. I made us pot pie, it’s in the oven right now.”

“Holy shit, deathboy. You always cook so much?” Nico smiled and shook his head.

“Just felt like it lately, I suppose. It’s almost ready, grab a seat.”

~~~~~

After about an hour of eating and delirious laughter, it suddenly came to light that Nico had never played 20 questions.

“What the hell do you mean you’ve never played?” Will was incredulous. “Didn’t you used to go to boarding school?” Nico was still grinning from the laughter.

“Well, yes but I was around 10 years old! I didn’t play games like that.” Will shook his head in disbelief.

“We’re remedying that today, di Angelo.”

“How do you play?”

“I ask you a question, you answer it, and then you ask me and I answer. The cycle continues until we each ask 20 questions.”

Nico hummed to himself. “Is anything off-limits?”

Will knew what he didn’t want him to ask, but instead said, “On my end? No. Is there anything you don’t want me to ask you?”

“...I suppose not.”

“Alright. Feel free to say ‘skip’ for any question. No big deal, I’ll just ask a new one.”

“Alright. Do you go first or me?”

Will always liked to ask the same question during 20 questions. “If you had the chance to have dinner with anyone, living or dead, who would it be?”

“Hm…” Nico took a deep breath. “Does my mother count?”

Will’s breath hitched. “She-- she does,” <i> Treat it normal, Solace.</i> “She seems like she’d be a good choice. She died in the 50’s?”

“30’s, actually. Right before I was moved to the Lotus Hotel.”

“...Oh. I’m sorry, Nico.” Nico waved him off.

“It’s fine, I was little. There’s just… so much I wish I knew, you know?”

“For sure…” <i> Gods, this poor kid. </i> “Still, I’m sorry. You were just a kid.”

“Yeah, well. Anyway. My turn, right?”

Will could tell that conversation was over, so he nodded.

“What’s your tattoo?” Nico asked, to which Will smiled.

“It’s… here.” He pulled down his shirt enough for the sun to show. Nico leaned forward to get a closer look.

“It’s really pretty. I saw it on that first night after you showered. Why did you get it?”

“Lee Fletcher.”

“Lee Fletcher? Who’s that?”

And who was Lee Fletcher? Lee Fletcher was the man who meant everything to Will. He had a mom and two sisters, and no father. Lee Fletcher was the first guy in his life to act as a guardian to him. He was four years older and always acted as an older brother even before Will knew that Lee was a guy. Lee taught Will archery and how to talk to girls. Later, Lee would teach him to talk to boys. Lee was powerful and smart. He was so, so brave. He would heal people just by <i>singing</i> to them. He was everything that Will wanted to be.

After he died, Will was inconsolable. Of course, during the war he was fine. He was cool and collected: a healer, the child of Apollo. But after? He started sneaking out more, trying to escape everything and everyone. Started drinking more… that’s when he met Nathan. He knew that wasn’t the question, though. Lee Fletcher, the memory of Lee Fletcher, is what kept him going through the darkest time in his life. He owed the world to him.

“Lee Fletcher… well…”