#drew them from memory. its bad <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[metal-requiem]

feeding the kids <3

[psformybss]

The Secret is Out II

part 1 | series masterlist

warnings: emotional intimacy, social media chaos, cast group chat energy, soft couple moments

︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

They posted just after 10:00 p.m. Late enough to feel casual, private—intentional in its quiet. But not late enough for the internet to sleep through it.

Within ten minutes, screenshots had landed in group chats and fan accounts. By twenty, Twitter had caught fire. The puzzle pieces that the internet had been putting together just hours before—prom photos, birthday posts, the glint of a ring in the paparazzi pictures— was now complete.

Fan reactions poured in like rain after drought.

“HELLO YOU ARE TELLING ME DREW STARKEY IS MARRIED AND THEY KEPT IT A SECRET”

“she’s been right there the whole time. like actually THERE. in his life. in his photos. in his little smiles. IM NOT OKAY”

“she’s not tagged. she didn’t even drop a location. she’s so off-grid coded i’m obsessed.”

“what do you MEAN they’ve been married for a while? what does a while mean?? 3 months? a year?? five???”

“me, a hater at 10:21 p.m. me, in love with her by 10:54 p.m.”

Drew had tossed his phone onto the coffee table without ceremony—face down, screen dark. No buzzing notifications. No refreshing the app. No second-guessing. Just one quiet decision, released into the world with a simple tap.

Y/N had curled into the corner of the couch beside him, her legs tucked close, one hand resting lightly on the blanket draped over both their knees. The other held her phone, the soft glow of the screen painting her features in quiet blue. But she wasn’t scrolling. Wasn’t reading comments. Wasn’t in the app at all. She just stared at the home screen, like maybe, if she looked at it long enough, the world might pause. Or rewind. Or slow down.

“You’re sure?” she asked after a long, careful beat. Her voice was barely a whisper, like asking it too loudly might undo everything they’d just done.

Drew didn’t hesitate. He reached out, brushing his thumb over her knee, the touch gentle but grounding. “I’ve never been more sure,” he murmured.

It wasn’t fear that sat in her chest. Not exactly. It was more like that first step into wide open air—the hush after the leap, before you hit the water. The moment when everything feels too big and too still at the same time. Like walking out into a clearing after months of moving in shadow. Vulnerable. Exposed. Real.

Not hiding anymore.

By morning, her phone was a blur of numbers and notifications. Her follower count had tripled. Strangers combed through every quiet, forgotten post she’d ever made. The photo of Drew half-asleep on a plane, hoodie pulled over his face. Teddy bounding through fresh snow. A blurry snapshot of the two of them sitting on a cabin porch, backs to the camera, heads tilted toward each other like they were mid-laugh.

They said it hadn’t been a soft launch after all. It had always been loud. Just not in the way they expected.

That night, long after the initial wave had crested and people had stopped tagging her in edits every two minutes, Drew came back from the kitchen with a second blanket and a fresh cup of tea she hadn’t asked for but gladly accepted. He handed it to her wordlessly and sat down, lifting the blanket and tucking it around her as if it were muscle memory.

She set the mug on the coffee table, untouched for now, and leaned into his side, her head finding the curve of his shoulder. He kissed her temple, then rested his cheek against her hair.

“I think your sister texted me eight separate crying emojis,” she mumbled.

“She also sent me a wedding meme,” Drew replied. “But like, a really bad one. Glitter font and everything.”

Y/N snorted, the sound soft and real against his chest. “How is it that the worst part of going public is the group chat?”

“Because they have material now,” he said, smiling. “They’ve waited years for this.”

She tilted her head up to look at him. “Are we crazy for doing it?”

Drew didn’t answer right away. He just studied her for a moment, the way her eyes searched his, the way the shadows from the lamp curved softly across her skin. Then he leaned in and kissed her. Slow. Intentional. Like it wasn’t just reassurance—it was a promise. When he pulled back, their foreheads stayed pressed together, breath mingling in the space between.

“No,” he whispered. “We’re not crazy. We’re just done hiding.”

Her eyes fluttered closed. “It’s gonna feel strange, not covering, not ducking out early or standing five feet apart in photos.”

“It will” he agreed. “But it will also feel good. Like breathing.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in quiet and fleece and the kind of warmth that doesn’t need explaining. His thumb brushed slow circles against the inside of her wrist. Her leg slid over his, anchoring them together under the blanket.

“Still ours,” he said at last, voice low and steady.

She nodded against his shoulder. “Even if they all know now.”

“They don’t know,” he said gently. “They just saw. And what they saw? That was real. But the rest?” He kissed her hair. “That’s still just for us.”

And she believed him.

The world could keep spinning, keep wondering, keep piecing together their story from photos and guesses and grainy screenshots.

They had already built the quiet.

And the quiet wasn’t going anywhere.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

an: and the secret is outtttt. im running out of ideas y’all so plssss send requests also it doesn’t have to be just for this one it could be any drew or rafe requests :)

also ignore any mistakes there might be in the smau's i did them last night while half sleep

[ohgodthevoices]

bokuto koutato headcanons because i love him more than myself <3

tags : your relationship progress with bokuto, pure fluff, pure teeth rotting sweetness , sweet lil bokuto , this is very much x reader, i never wrote bokuto before so im sorry if this is ooc :(

note : i tried changing my writing style a bit :3 idk if i like it yet or not

bokuto , who as your classmate , lit up the classroom with his bright “ good morningg !” no matter how quiet the class was , or how late he was. a greeting that did bother teachers at first but quickly became a morning essential for everyone.

he sat in front of you in class, often distracting you with his fidgeting but never directly spoke to you until— “hey do you think i could throw this in the bin from here?” he held a crumbled up paper in his hand with an almost goofy grin on his face “uhm- sure..?” why would he ask you that ?

bokuto who heard your stomach grumble once and committed to always bring a second snack. you did refuse at first but the dude brought more snacks than textbooks so you assumed accepting them every now and then wouldn’t be so bad…

bokuto who tested the sharpness of his pencil by poking himself in the arm , he who tried catching a bee that snuck in class to look cool but almost ended up getting hurt, he who blinks a lot in class because he insisted he had “photographic memory” , he who became more than a simple hyperactive classmate…

bokuto , who as your friend , started by wanting to be paired with you in projects , then waved at you when you crossed paths in the hallway , he who invited himself to your study sessions because he challenged himself to at least get half of the grade you’re getting.

bokuto who did a full 180 as soon as the teacher said something complex , and looked at you with those big confused eyes waiting for what he called a “translation”.

he who drew on your hand once, and did not notice how flustered that made you.

“bokuto what are you doing..” he was sitting on his chair in a way that he was completely facing you , his arms resting on the back of the chair , his head slightly titling and his eyes squinting “im trying to focus on your face”.

his way of “flirting” was very weird, he’s a good flirt don’t get me wrong , but only if he’s not aware that he’s flirting : for example he doesn’t realize that it make your heart skip a beat when he pushed your hair to the side because he wanted to look directly in your eyes when he spoke to you.

he then realized he actually liked you and tried to flirt (key word : tried). he would constantly try to “accidentally” brush his hand against yours as a kind of “hey look at me” type of thing.

bokuto who seemed to “stretch” his arms way more often now , basically flexing them to show off how strong he was.

bokuto , who as your boyfriend would nag you into scratching his back since he sat in front of you

he tried being cute by playing with your hair but just ended up apologizing on his knees cus he tangled it badly.

he was super happy to introduce you to everyone he knew as his partner , his teammates, his coach , his friends from other schools, his cool uncle, the lady selling fish at the supermarket.

bokuto loves to nuzzle into to crook of your neck , especially if he’s holding you from the back , he just likes to hold you waist and watch whatever you were watching on your phone with you

he’s cheesy asf , he’ll search for “cool pickup lines” every morning to greet you in a different way.

he , the huge show off that he is, performs way better if you’re watching him play. however it does have its downsides as he’s so focused on looking “cool and sexy” he just… forgets to play ?

he could sit for hours (and he has done it) listening to you talk about a very niche interest, without getting bored or trying to change the subject— we love a supportive bf

he succeeded on getting you to join on his morning jog from time to time and i swear he goes “neeooow 🏎️” when he runs past you

bonus : when you both graduated , he finally introduced you to his parents and you found out then that he has two moms.

[inaconstantstateofchange]

Who Builds Theseus' Ship?

This ties in to a greater discussion about Larian's changes to the game post-Full Release, and whether you consider those changes to be a good thing or a bad thing. Personally speaking, the quality-of-life and gameplay mechanics improvements were appreciated, while the direct changes to characters and especially characterization were not so much.

In such discussions, I often see people downplaying the actual changes to characterization that have been made thus far as "minor" things, but I often see one of the most glaring examples of a characterization change left out, because so many people aren't even aware of it ever happening:

Halsin.

For those who don't know, if you were romancing Halsin at the time of the original full release, and for almost four months afterward, if you took him with you to Act 3's orgy scene in Sharess's Caress, he would open up about a situation in his distant past. He would tell you about how he had briefly been "something between guest, prisoner, and consort" in a drow House, and been kept there for three years before escaping.

He stated that this was something that happened "a long time ago", when he was "a foolhardy young druid", which would mean it would likely have been between ages 100 and 245 — or at minimum 105 years ago, and at (likely) maximum 250 years ago. He closed the discussion with a line that really struck me, and that gave me such an appreciation for his character, and for the writers who had created it:

The passage of time has a strange way of polishing even the most arduous of memories into precious keepsakes.

As someone in their late-20s, with a number of traumatic events in my past, this resonated so much both with my experience of those events – once harrowing and haunting, now just simple happenings that do not affect me the way they once did – and as an inspirational message, that hurt would not necessarily linger forever.

Not only that, I really valued the insight it gave into Halsin's personality, further showing him to be someone who was deeply complex and meditative, always looking for meaning and something to take away or learn from any experience. It also served to showcase the likely reality of the relationship elves and druids both would have to the concepts of time and memory. (Another example of this is the experience of Shadowheart's father compared to her mother at the hands of the Sharrans.)

I started playing the game almost immediately upon its release in August, and was intrigued by Halsin from the start. He was someone who was kind and heartfelt, but also very settled in himself and with a simultaneously rigid and very flexible moral code. It was that complexity that drew me to him, and I appreciated the inclusion of a character distinct from the Origin companions, all at close to the lowest point of their lives.

It was to my surprise to find that this appreciation for his character and perspective on his Act 3 revelation was not unanimous. As it turned out, there was a vocal group of people claiming that this writing was problematic, and that Halsin clearly didn't even realize he was actually traumatized, and that Larian needed to fix it. Not everyone joining in with this crusade had even played the game.

And, ultimately, in a pattern they have continued to follow, Larian responded. They fixed it. At the end of November, as part of Patch 5, they uploaded an edited version of the scene with new dialogue, where the player could express this "reality" to Halsin, in one of the most gallingly patronizing statements I've ever seen.

Sounds traumatic. You may need to reflect on that.

(If someone said this to me after I had opened up to them about my trauma and my experience of it to them, we would not be maintaining a cordial relationship afterward.)

Halsin's new response to these dialogue options is a cringing, self-deprecating cascade of how the player is of course right, and he should have known better, and time could "prove to be a trickster on one's recollections" and that perhaps he had "lost perspective".

Quite frankly, it is a completely different character answering, and an almost directly opposing overall message about the role of time in healing, and the path forward when it comes to trauma. No more "one day these events will not hurt to recall the way they do now". In its stead: "only healing that looks a specific way and follows a specific path is acceptable - anything else and you are simply a poor fool lying to yourself."

The following quote is from a comment left on a video of Halsin's original dialogue in that scene, before the changes, and is just one example of how much that representation meant to more than just me to see:

That said, Halsin is trauma recovery goals for me absolutely. Being able to remember without actually being triggered? Being able to fully and freely engage HOW ID LIKE TO instead of being fettered by trauma responses? Goals. I don’t know if I’ll ever get there 100%, we don’t get elven lifetimes irl, but his level of healing brings me hope.

Ultimately, this post is not meant to argue that you should agree with me that one is better than the other. More so, I want to highlight that this existed — for many people, this was their experience of events and characters, and that is not so easily redacted. And I also want to just state, for the record, that Larian's way of approaching narrative and characterization changes to their full-release game has been incredibly frustrating. I did not agree, in August, to play an Early Access game with the inherent understanding that any potential narrative aspect might change at any time. I purchased a full-release game, and immersed myself in the story and the characters, to get to know them as the writers had originally presented.

And when Larian makes these changes based on fan feedback, they are explicitly making decisions about which fans matter, and specifically, which fans matter most. Rather than allowing everyone to experience the story they decided to tell, and draw from it what they take away, and let that spark discussion and engagement, they made the decision to defer to some fans over others, and prioritize their experience of the narrative — something that, no matter how well-intended, is always going to leave a bitter taste in my mouth.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Logan In Love

Yknow, I'm very torn with writing Logan being in love. On one hand, I feel like Logan would have a hard time accepting and being in love, I feel like he would be so hard- so used to being alone. The moment someone (you) would come along, stirring up those feelings he thought were honestly dead, he wouldn't know what to do with himself. Maybe he'd lash out, maybe he'd pull away, telling himself it was for your own good to not be around some like him. (and maybe he's protecting himself too in what he believes would be inevitable heartbreak)

BUT

BUT

Then I think, Logan has been around, lived long enough to be sure of his feelings, to not beat around the bush when it comes to dealing with things and Logan is very good at dealing with things. He's always been straight forward in his goals, his feelings. If he thought something was stupid, he'd say it. (I'm sorry I still can't help but giggle when I hear him call Xavier "Wheels" bc of the superhero names) For example, how he feels for Jean (think the X movies), he wasted no time in flirting with her, and honestly if Jean had any interest in him (Fuck you Jean Logan IS a good guy and he's the goodest and sweetest boy ever) and her and Scott weren't a thing, how quickly do you think they would have been together? bc Logan didn't seem to have many qualms about them being together at all and by the third movie (I mean, the time span isn't really that long, what, the three movies stretch 6 months to a year maybe? If even that? Honestly they felt like an extremely bad 3 weeks the gang had), he confessed he loved her (then had to kill her oop)

So maybe, when you come around (lets say your own special timeline, not the x movies or whatever) and you and Logan meet for the first time, Logan knew someone was it for him when he saw you. Something about you drew him in, the same way animals seem to know they met their mate. There was no doubt he liked you on a physical and emotional level, and soon after building something of a friendship with you- he knew he loved you. In something like the X-men, you build trust with each other, from having to live together, to dangerous missions, it was going to happen. What you and Logan gained together though, was something much more than trust and friendship.

Logan was sure of his feelings. His past, the fact that he had been roaming for the last 10-15 years alone, didn't matter in this equation. He knew what he felt and goddamn he was going to hold onto you and never let you go because you had become the best thing hes ever gotten in his life, especially after he gains his 200 years of memory back- he becomes even more sure in his decision that you weren't going to leave the adamantium grip he has on you (I mean, really, good luck getting out of that. Not that you would want too). He would protect you and keep you safe. He knew he could make you happy, and give you anything you ever wanted because honestly that's all Logan wants himself.

Logan was extremely observant, and he learned your quirks, your flaws, and all the sweet things he'd pick up over time. Maybe you thought he was just flirting with you, being Logan and everything, but no. Logan was dead serious about you, and he would wait for you to notice-and when you begin to notice that no other lady would turn his head, even the other ladies of the team, beautiful and strong that would turn the head of any man didn't have an effect on him. His eyes was always on you when you were in the same room. He always checked on you, concerned if you seemed tired, upset, angry, trying to get you to open up to him because it's not just him knowing how he feels about you but he desperately wants you to feel the same for him, to feel close to him the way he feels to you.

Maybe Logan does worry if he's right for you. Maybe he doesn't consider himself a good guy. With the things he's done, how could he be, surely he isn't? Its the X-men, and YOU, mainly you honestly, that makes him think that maybe he could be the good guy. Maybe he can make up for the mistakes he's made in his long life. Maybe, his sins don't matter because now he's in love, he'd found someone he wants to be better for, and no longer does he feel the need to let that weight sit on his shoulders because you were there and you made his world feel less bleak and hopeless. (Remember when he tells Jean "I could be the good guy" in that cute little way? the way he was desperate for her approval....I STILL HATE YOU FOR BEING MEAN TO HIM JEAN (okay but maybe logan should have backed off a woman that WAS taken and said no...gotta love me a stubborn man I suppose...)

It wasn't until a particularly dangerous mission that he finally breaks down, he's checking on you and you just can't handle it right now, trying to get him to just let you rest but he so desperately needs you, and needs you to be okay that he grabs you and kisses you. (Think of him and Jean in X2. He's just desperate for you.) He needs you to see how he feels about you before it becomes too late. It took you by surprise and took you a minute to even register what just happened but you kissed him back. He tells you he loves you, he's in love with you and he needs you. Things get heated after that, and afterwards you ask him when he began to feel this way for you, in which he'd teasingly say

"You got your heads in the cloud sweetheart. I've loved you the moment I met you."

[k4ychiko]

How would look cultists (Old faith) Look in your Cotl band au? And bishops? And how they Role change?

I NEED ANSWERS

Heres their full ref sheet!

Ive made a bunch of doodles and art (under the #cotl band au tag) but i'll be planning to make more art of them! Theyre very dear to me..

I'll write some stuff down here about the characters

Keep in mind this au is not related to scott pilgrim 😭😭 just cus i drew lamb in that poster doesnt correlate to the show pls thank you!!

So since its a modern au, Some stuff might not be similar to the original lore in the game such as the bishops injury and what not lol

-

Shamura - multi purpose

They learned to play a lot of instruments at a very young age, and passed their talent to their siblings. Shamura thought of teaching them only as a hobby, not fully knowing well that they'd form a band.

Shamura couldn't finish their education because they needed to be the one providing for their younger siblings. They work as a tailor.

But despite it all Shamura is still very wise and smart.

Shamura is 31.

-

Kallamar - keyboard and backup

kallamar's voice has always been my favourite because of how soft and melodic it sounded in the game. So not only is he a keyboardist, but also a backing vocalist too.

He's in a polyamorous marriage. Two wives and 1 husband. (Kallamar also has a son.)

And because of his family, kallamar couldn't attend in majority of their band practices

He's hard of hearing. Knows sign language.

Kallamar is 27.

-

Heket - bass

Heket can speak, but prefers to appear mute to the audience.

She speaks using sign language. Everyone in the band knows sign lanuage.

Heket is currently in college learning mechanical engineering.

She's bisexual. And currently dating someone. (Not revealing who just yet)

Sozo and Heket are very good friends. Enjoying tea time together and talking a lot of things. Mostly about mushrooms and family.

She's 22.

-

Leshy - drummer

Leshy and yellow cat (named Fian in this au) are dorm roommates and best friends. Some believe they are more than friends.

All his chaotic energy and anger goes to banging on those drums. Shamura thought it was meant to be.

Leshy studies biology. People didnt believe him when he revealed he's one of the top students in his college.

He has a really good memory. Memorized the drums layout immediately after losing his vision.

Hes 20.

-

Narinder - lead guitarist

Dropped out of college to focus on the band. Bad decision really.

Aym and Baal were the only nerdy fans to get close and have a sweet relationship with nari. Like he's their uncle.

Narinder and Lamb used to date when they were 20. They broke up because of miscommunication (and many more reasons). they are in good terms 3 years later.

Lamb had moved on from their relationship, but nari hasnt.

-

Lamb - Lead singer

Lamb can do a death metal scream, dont let that innocent look fool you.

They were recruited in the band by narinder and became the leader.

Ratau adopted Lamb

Lamb's songs are somewhat religious and has a cult vibe. But sometimes they focus about relationships and struggles.

Lamb and Goat are really great best friends. Maybe even more than best friends.

-

If u guys wanna know more feel free to ask me!

[newttxt]

20 questions for fic writers

thank you @strawhattery for @ing me, even though i do feel like it's a not-so-subtle urge to finish my current wips... (i need the kick)

for reference/those who only see my art, i used to be a fic writer who occasionally drew. that's obviously changed, but i am trying to write more, so you can find me at pseudoanalytics on ao3.

1) how many works do you have on ao3?

44, but only 35 are linked to me (9 are anonymous...)

2) what's your total ao3 word count?

347,773 😰

3) what are your top five fics by kudos?

while i nodded, nearly napping (suddenly there came a tapping) [haikyuu, ushiten]

redacted :/

the inherent romance of classical conditioning (or, the fine art of emotional recognition) [haikyuu, sakuatsu]

you're really pushing it (but you're going much too slowly) [haikyuu, ushiten]

redacted :/ (sequel to the first redacted...)

4) what fandoms do you write for?

most of my fics are so old i can't bear to look at them, but i'm trying to write more for one piece. then i've written a decent amount of haikyuu, pacific rim, and star wars.

5) do you respond to comments? why or why not?

initially? i absolutely do! but as any of my friends will tell you, i struggle to even reply to dms or texts. so alas. i drop off pretty quickly

i LOVE comments though, and i eagerly read and reread them frequently ;__;

6) what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh sheesh. you may only ask once (so be prepared for the reply) which is a bad end for pacific rim 2. or i guess... a worse end. it's also a bit of a role swap au, if i remember correctly.

7) what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i... honestly don't know. i typically write happy endings. i like to write "missing scenes" and post-canon, so things tend to be rather open-ended or to just lead into the next part of canon. my memory is also not my prize-winning quality, so i can't really remember how my fics ended pre-2018ish.

8) do you get hate on fics?

i know i've gotten some ruder bookmarks, but not typically, no. i get more hate on art or in my ask box, but i honestly just delete it all, so it never sticks.

9) do you write smut?

yes, though its debatable if it's "smut" so much as "sex in such an irreverent context that it becomes humor." i cannot take sex seriously, so alas, i rarely write it seriously. i use it more as comedy and a tool for character studies. i do enjoy a stoic character's facade getting cracked open.

10) do you write crossovers?

i don't write legitimate crossovers, with characters from different medias intermingling, and frankly, i rarely do au's either.

but if i have one weakness, it's that i am ALWAYS a sucker for a pacific rim au. yes, i am rotating a one piece version in my head.

11) have you ever had a fic stolen?

i had a sakuatsu one reuploaded to wattpad under someone else's username. they deleted my author's notes and added their own, as if they'd written the fic, too. hilariously they even used my art for the cover.

it got taken down, but idk why. i never reached out about it.

12) have you ever had a fic translated?

yeah! i've had 5 translated, and i've had 2 turned into podfics, which is cool.

13) have you ever cowritten a fic before?

nope. i'd be terrible to work with, tbh. my writing process is a holdover from my journalism days, and the steps are a mystery even to me. i think i'll stick to drawing art for other ppl and their fics.

14) what's your all time favorite ship?

i will hold to the fact that it's asanoya from ao3. they were the first ship i got really invested in, and i see their impact on everything i ship to this day. they were my "blueprint," if you will. i still get smiley when i see art for them!

on the flip side... terezi/vriska was also a formative ship for me. but i won't discuss that.

15) what's the wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

rip go ahead and start talking (i'll pick up the slack). it's my 1-of-2-chapters ushiten fic that i should just mark as complete, since the first chapter can stand alone.

16) what are your writing strengths?

hard to determine your own strengths, but i think my dialogue/characterization are pretty strong, especially since i still regularly flex those muscles when writing comics. i also think i'm funny.

17) what are your writing weaknesses?

writing.

but seriously, i am so bad at sitting down and just hammering out a fic. don't get me started on outlines or longform works. i'd rather grab my pencil and start drawing, i'm afraid.

18) thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i think there are ways to interweave words or terms in other languages, but overall, i'm a fan of just standardizing everything into one language. if your character understands it, i think all readers should be able to understand it. and i'm not a fan of when you're expected to scroll to the end for a translation; i think it interrupts the reading flow.

this is a generalized opinion though. i think there are ALWAYS storytelling exceptions, so if the other language usage is really important to your theme/intent, i can see why you would do this!

19) first fandom you wrote for?

please don't do this to me. it was maximum ride. yes, the james patterson books about the kids with bird wings. i wrote 4-5 fics, i was in middle school, and — as far as i know — they are still up on ff dot net. no, i won't elaborate.

20) favourite fic you've ever written?

hands down, it's the sakuatsu domesticity simulator. it's not necessarily my best work in terms of writing skill, but i also drew over 50 images for it and html coded it into an interactive story. i'm just proud that i started a big project by myself and i actually finished it!

it's my dream to someday make a whole visual fan novel. i feel like the domesticity sim was the first step.

oh boy i'm bad at tagging but if @syrupfog, @lawsbbygirl, @macabrekawaii , @bmouse, or @cooknumber3 want to go for it... :))

[nofingjustaninchident]

ᯓ★ i hate you more pt.3

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

pairing jason grace x roman!reader

summary well, he should be dead, and she’d gladly kill him

warnings probably cursing, third person writing

now listening to bad blood by taylor swift

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Chiron invited them inside, sending Drew back to her cabin. y/n was glad when the girl walked away - her excessive touchiness with Jason had been grating on her nerves, as was the fact that she didn't even understand why it pissed her off so much. 

Especially because it shouldn’t, since they apparently hated each other so much. 

"Follow me," the centaur said. "We have lemonade." 

Grapevines covered the walls of the living room, running across the ceiling as well. y/n wasn't sure how they were able to grow inside, especially given the season, but they were leafy green and bursting with bunches of red grapes. 

The girl looked up at a stuffed leopard's head hung above the fireplace, so real-looking that its eyes seemed to move. It snarled at Jason, and she felt him nearly jump out of his skin next to her. 

“For the gods’ sake-” He muttered under his breath and y/n had to stop herself from snickering.  

"Now, Seymour," Chiron chided. "Jason is a friend. Behave yourself." 

Chiron threw a sausage to the leopard, who snatched it up and licked his lips. "You must excuse the decor," Chiron said. "All this was a parting gift from our old director before he was recalled to Mount Olympus. He thought it would help us remember him. Mr. D has a strange sense of humor." 

"Mr. D," Jason said. "Dionysus?" 

"Mhm." Chiron poured three glasses of lemonade, though his hands seemed to tremble slightly. He and Jason carried on a conversation about the old camp director and Seymour's origins, y/n watching in silence. She could tell that Chiron was wary of her as well, though he hadn't recognized her the way he recognized Jason. She supposed that was a good thing, giving the conditions - he had said Jason was supposed to be dead. 

"So, Jason, y/n," Chiron said. "Would you mind telling me – ah - where you're from?" 

"I wish we knew," Jason sighed. “I mean, i don’t. Maybe she does and just don’t want to tell anyone.”  

That earnt him a smack in the arm, which was nothing but passive-aggressive.  

y/n let Jason tell the story, only chiming in when he left out a detail or she needed to speak from her own experience. Chiron didn't react aside from nodding encouragingly for either of them to continue. 

When Jason was done, Chiron took a sip of his lemonade. "You only remember each other?" he asked for clarification. 

Y/n nodded. "Sadly, yes. Just names, but still." she muttered, looking over at Jason briefly. "Everything else is... blank." 

"I see," Chiron said. "Well, you must have questions for me." 

"I have one," y/n spoke up. "Any reason in particular those... naiads? Is that what they're called? Is there a reason they talked to me or...?” 

Chiron regarded her with inquisitive eyes. "They talked to you?" 

y/n nodded. "Yeah, one of them just... stood – can i say stood if they’re underwater? Anyway, one of them stood there and told me to just breathe." She tried to push away the memory of the human-like thing telling her to take a breath underwater. "Is that... normal?" 

"No," Chiron confessed. "That's highly unusual - naiads are typically friendly, especially the ones in the canoe lake, but they don’t usually talk. Well, at least, not that anyone could understand, anyway. The only person they talked to was...”  

With his pause, y/n looked expectantly at him. “The only person they talked was..?” And something Annabeth said came up to her. “Was it that guy that Annabeth talked about? Uh- Percy, right?”  

Chiron’s expression got somewhat darker, but he managed to cover it up. “Yes, Percy. He's one of our oldest campers now, but he’s missing.”  

“Oh.” y/n muttered. “Sorry.”  

“It’s no problem, child.” Chiron assured. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

But what if it was? 

"In any case, that indeed is strange," Chiron said quietly. "I will have a talk with them. Until then, it may be best to steer clear of the lake." 

"That won't be a problem," y/n muttered. 

"Do you have any other questions?" Chiron asked. 

"Uh, yeah," Jason admitted. "What did you mean when you said I should be dead?" 

Chiron studied him with concern. "Do either of you know what the marks on your arms mean? The color of your shirt, Jason? Do you remember anything?" 

Jason shook his head. "No, nothing," Jason said. 

"Do you know where you are?" Chiron asked. "Do you understand what this place is, who I am?" 

"You're Chiron the centaur," Jason said. "I'm guessing you're the same one from the old stories, who used to train heroes like Heracles." 

"And this is a camp for demigods," y/n said, "children of the Olympian gods." 

"So, you believe those gods still exist?" Chiron asked. 

"Yes," Jason answered immediately. y/n felt the same confidence, though she didn't know where it came from. "I mean, I don't think we should worship them or sacrifice chickens to them or anything, but they're still around because they're a powerful part of civilization. They move from country to country as the center of power shifts - like they moved from Ancient Greece to Rome." 

"I couldn't have said it better." Something in Chiron's voice had changed. "So, you already know the gods are real. You have both already been claimed, haven't you?" 

"Maybe," Jason answered. 

"We can't remember," y/n said. 

The leopard on the wall snarled, and Chiron studied them for a moment, waiting. y/n realized after a moment that Chiron had switched to another language, and she and Jason understood it fluently. 

"Quis erat-" Jason faltered, as if the language was automatic. "What was that?" 

"You know Latin," Chiron observed. "Most demigods recognize a few phrases, of course. It's in their blood, but not as much as Ancient Greek. None can speak Latin fluently without practice." 

y/n frowned, trying to wrap her brain around the fact that she could speak Latin, of all languages. Why couldn’t it be french, german, maybe? It felt so familiar on her tongue as she spoke it, the same as in her ears when Jason and Chiron did. 

"I taught your namesake, you know - the original Jason," Chiron said. "He had a hard path. I've seen many heroes come and go. Occasionally, they have happy endings. Mostly, they don't. It breaks my heart, like losing a child every time one of my pupils dies. But you two are unlike any pupils I've ever taught. Your presence here could be a disaster." 

"Thanks," Jason muttered. "You must be an inspiring teacher." 

"You should look into motivational speaking if you get bored here," y/n grumbled. 

Chiron sighed quietly. "I am sorry. But it's true. I had hoped after Percy's succeeded in the Titan War and saved Mount Olympus, we might have some peace. I might be able to enjoy one final triumph, a happy ending, and perhaps retire quietly. I should have known better. The last chapter approaches, just as it did before. The worst is yet to come." 

A heavy blanket of gloom seemed to rest over the entire room. 

"Okay," Jason said. "So - last chapter, happened before, worst yet to come. Sounds fun, but can we get back to the part where I'm supposed to be dead? I don't like that part." 

“Why not?” y/n asked, rolling her eyes as she looked at him with annoyance clear on her eyes. “I like it very much. Sounds appealing, doesn’t it?” It was as if the tease just had to leave her. She didn’t understand where all that came from.  

“Oh, fuck off for a moment.” He grumbled and flipped her off.  

"I'm afraid I can't explain, my boy. I swore on the River Styx and on all things sacred that I would never..." Chiron frowned. "But you're both here, a violation of the same oath. That, too, should not be possible. I don't understand. Who would've done such a thing? Who-" 

Seymour howled, his mouth freezing halfway. The fire stopped crackling, its flames hardening like red glass. 

Everything seemed to just... stop. 

"Chiron?" Jason asked. "What's going-" 

Chiron was frozen, too. Jason and y/n stood up, but Chiron's eyes didn't waver. His mouth was open mid-sentence, and he sat there, not blinking or even breathing from the looks of it. 

"Tell me you're seeing this, too," Jason whispered, reaching for y/n’s hand instinctively. 

She squeezed it tightly, not even noticing at first. She glanced down at it, and decided to stay holding it. It was the only sign that they both weren’t crazy. "Frozen centaur? Yeah, I see it." 

Jason, a voice spoke. y/n. 

A dark mist poured from Seymour's mouth. Storm spirits, she thought, her free hand going to her pocket and taking her key out. She and Jason both summoned their weapons. 

The mist shaped itself into a woman in black robes. 

Her face was hooded, but her eyes glowed in the darkness. Over her shoulders was a goat-skin cloak, falling down her back and brushing the floor. y/n recognized the cloak for some reason, and she knew somehow that it was important - that it was much more than a strange fashion choice. 

Would you attack your patron, Jason? the woman chided. Her voice seemed to echo in y/n’s mind, bypassing her ears entirely. Lower your swords. The two of you. 

"Who are you?" Jason demanded. "How did you—?" 

Our time is limited. My prison grows stronger by the hour. It took me a full month to gather enough energy to work even the smallest magic through its bonds. I've managed to bring you two here, but now I have little time left, and even less power. This may be the last time I can speak to either of you. 

"You're in prison?" Jason questioned, still not lowering his sword. "Look, I don't know you, and you're not my patron." 

You know me, the woman insisted. I have known you since your birth, Jason. 

"I don't remember," Jason said. "I don't remember anything." 

No, you don't, she agreed. Neither of you do. That was also necessary. Long ago, Jason, your father gave me your life as a gift to placate my anger. He named you Jason, after my favorite mortal. You belong to me, Jason. And unfortunately, she’s way too useful to be left behind.  

"Hey!” y/n protested.  

"Whoa," Jason said, ignoring her completely. Something told y/n that this was something he often did. "I don't belong to anyone." 

Now is the time to pay your debt, she said. Find my prison. The girl has the key to unlock me. Free me, or their king will rise from the earth, and I will be destroyed. You will never retrieve your memories. 

"You stole our memories?" y/n asked, her eyes narrowing at the hooded woman. "And you want us to help you?" 

You have until sunset on the solstice. Four short days. Do not fail me. 

The dark woman dissolved, the mist curling into Seymour's mouth. 

Time unfroze. Seymour's howl tapered off into a cough. The fire crackled to life and Chiron continued, 

"—would dare to bring you here?" 

"My guess is the lady in the mist," y/n muttered. 

Chiron looked up at them in surprise. "Weren't you just sitting... why are your swords drawn?" 

"I hate to tell you this," Jason said, "but I think your leopard just ate a goddess." 

He proceeded to Chiron what had happened when time froze. 

"Oh, dear," Chiron murmured. "That does explain a lot." 

"It does?" y/n asked. "Care to fill us in?" 

"Please," Jason added. 

Before Chiron could say anything else, the front door to the Big House blew open and Annabeth and another girl, a redhead, burst in, dragging an unconscious Piper between them. 

"What happened?" y/n asked, rushing over to them with Jason close behind, both of their swords abandoned on the coffee table. "What's wrong with her?" 

"Hera's cabin," Annabeth gasped, like they'd run all the way to the house. "Vision. Bad." 

The redhead looked up, and y/n saw tears on her cheeks. "I..." She gulped. "I think I may have killed her." 

                           𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 

The redhead – who, later, y/n discovered to be named Rachel Dare – had not, in fact, killed Piper. She was still breathing, though she couldn't seem to wake up. 

Ophelia didn't like the sight of the girl so pale and sickly, as if Hades himself had come up to the mortal world to take away her soul but forgot to do so. y/n was positive she didn't know the girl, not like she knew Jason, but they had survived a battle with storm spirits and a chariot crash within the span of just a few hours - things like that bonded people. 

Chiron put his hand on Piper's forehead, grimacing. 

"Her mind is in a fragile state. Rachel, what happened?" 

Rachel shook her head slightly. "I wish I knew," she said. "As soon as I got to camp, I had a premonition about Hera's cabin. I went inside. Annabeth and Piper came in while I was there. We talked, and then- I just blanked out. Annabeth said I spoke in a different voice." 

"A prophecy?" Chiron asked. 

"No. The spirit of Delphi comes from within. I know how that feels. This is like long distance, a power trying to speak through me." 

Annabeth ran into the room carrying a leather pouch. 

She knelt next to Piper. "Chiron, what happened back there - I've never seen anything like it. I've heard Rachel's prophecy voice. This was different. She sounded like an older woman. She grabbed Piper's shoulders and told her-" 

"To free her from a prison?" Jason offered, looking at y/n with a grimace. The latter was still staring at the girl laid down in front of her, wondering what she could do to help – or rather, if she could really do anything to help.  

Annabeth stared at him. "How did you know that?" 

Chiron made a strange three-fingered gesture over his heart, like a ward against evil. y/n tried to ignore the unsettling feeling it gave her. "Jason, y/n, tell them. Annabeth, the medicine bag, please." 

Chiron trickled drops from a medicine vial into Piper's mouth as Jason explained the vision he and y/n had witnessed of the woman who claimed to be Jason's patron. 

"Does this happen often?" y/n chimed in when he was finished talking. "Supernatural phone calls from convicts demanding you bust them out of jail?" 

"Patron," Annabeth said, looking at Jason with a frown. "Not your godly parent?" 

"No, she said patron. She also said my dad had given her my life," Jason said. 

Annabeth's frown deepened. "I've never heard of anything like that before. You said the storm spirit on the skywalk - he claimed to be working for some mistress who was giving him orders, right? Could it be this woman you saw, messing with you?" 

"I don't think so," Jason said. "If she was my enemy, why would she be asking for my help? She's imprisoned. She's worried about some enemy getting more powerful. Something about a king rising from the earth on the solstice-" 

Annabeth looked at Chiron, her face losing its color. 

"Not Kronos. Please tell me it's not that." 

Chiron was quiet for a moment, checking Piper's pulse before he finally answered, "It is not Kronos. That threat is ended. But..." 

"But what?" Annabeth asked. 

Chiron closed his medicine bag. "Piper needs rest. We should discuss this later." 

"Or now," y/n said with a frown. "You said the greatest threat was coming. The last chapter?" 

"You can't possibly mean something worse than an army of Titans, right?" Jason asked.  

"Oh," Rachel said, her voice small. "Oh, dear. The woman was Hera. Of course. Her cabin, her voice. She showed herself to Jason and y/n at the same moment." 

"Hera?" Annabeth looked downright murderous. "She took you over? She did this to Piper?" 

"I think Rachel's right," Jason said. "The woman did seem like a goddess. And she wore this- this goatskin cloak. That's the symbol of Juno, isn't it?" 

"It is?" Annabeth scowled. "I've never heard that." 

Chiron nodded. "Of Juno, Hera's Roman aspect, in her most warlike state. The goatskin cloak was a symbol of the Roman soldier." 

"So, Hera is imprisoned?" Rachel asked. "Who could do that to the queen of the gods?" 

Annabeth crossed her arms. "Well, whoever they are, maybe we should thank them. If they can shut up Hera-" 

"Annabeth," Chiron warned, "she is still one of the Olympians. In many ways, she is the glue that holds the gods' family together. If she truly has been imprisoned and is in danger of destruction, this could shake the foundations of the world. It could unravel the stability of Olympus, which is never great even in the best of times. And if Hera has asked Jason and y/n for help-" 

"Fine," Annabeth grumbled. "Well, we know Titans can capture a god, right? Atlas captured Artemis a few years ago. And in the old stories, the gods captured each other in traps all the time. But something worse than a Titan...?" 

"Hera said she'd been trying to break through her prison bonds for a month," Jason said. 

"Which is how long Olympus has been closed," Annabeth said. "So, the gods must know something bad is going on." 

Jason sighed, a look of frustration on his face. "But why use her energy to send y/n and me here?" he asked. "She wiped our memories, plopped us into the Wilderness School field trip, and sent you a dream vision to come pick us up. Why are we so important? Why not just send up an emergency flare to the other gods - let them know where she is so they can bust her out?" 

"The gods need heroes to do their will down here on earth," Rachel said. "That's right, isn't it? Their fates are always intertwined with demigods." 

"That's true," Annabeth said, "but Jason's got a point. Why them? Why take their memories?" 

"I'd like to know that myself," y/n muttered. 

"Piper's involved somehow," Rachel said. "Hera sent her the same message- Free me. And, Annabeth, this must have something to do with Percy's disappearance." 

Annabeth looked at Chiron, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Why are you so quiet, Chiron? What is it we're facing?" 

Chiron looked as if he'd aged ten years in a matter of minutes. "My dear, in this, I cannot help you. I am so sorry." 

Annabeth blinked. "You've never... you've never kept information from me. Even the last Great Prophecy-" 

"I will be in my office," Chiron announced, his voice heavy. "I need some time to think before dinner. Rachel, will you watch the girl? Call Argus to bring her to the infirmary, if you'd like. And Annabeth, you should speak with Jason and y/n. Tell them about- about the Greek and Roman gods." 

"But..." 

Chiron turned away, heading out of the room and down the hallway. Annabeth muttered something in Greek that y/n suspected wasn't too kind toward centaurs. 

"I'm sorry," Jason said. "I think us being here - I don't know. We've messed things up coming to the camp, somehow. Chiron said he'd sworn an oath and couldn't talk about it." 

y/n frowned, wanting to add that she definitely hadn’t asked to come to the camp, but she bit her tongue - it wasn't the time. 

 "What oath?" Annabeth demanded. "I've never seen him act this way. And why would he tell me to talk to you about the gods..." Her voice trailed off, looking at the two gold swords lying on the coffee table. She touched Jason's gingerly, like it might be hot. "Are these gold? Do you remember where you got it?" 

y/n shook her head, Jason doing the same. "We don't remember anything," she said. 

Annabeth nodded like she'd come up with a rather desperate plan. "If Chiron won't help, we'll need to figure things out ourselves. Which means... Cabin Fifteen. Rachel, you'll keep an eye on Piper?"  

"Sure," Rachel promised. "Good luck, you three."  

"Hold on," Jason said. "What's in Cabin Fifteen?"   

Annabeth stood. "Maybe a way to get your memories back." 

TAGLIST @maybxlle @sunshine-of-ur-life @liviessun @bellamysnatblida @mp-littlebit @cinemaconrad @eaterof-concrete

[anonymous-eggy]

Quest with an artist Mc

bc i cant stop thinking ab himb....

i wrote this very impulsively so. yeah. theres a bit of horny towards the end, but theres also fluffy sweet things

• he learns of you being an artist when you find the time to create bloomic fanart.

• and you got endless showers of praise from him on how good it was (especially if the fanart included Xander)

• he just thinks its so neat. his artistic expression of choice is poetry, so he's not much of an artist when it comes to drawing.

• he can draw some basic flowers, but thats where his talents end.

• no matter your usual art media, buy gold (body safe) paint and paint his scars. kind of like how you paint the cracks of repaired pottery and such? except make it a vulnerable bonding experience.

• he has many scars all around his body from past accidents and gang related violence.

• i feel like he gets really insecure about them sometimes and worries theyll make you think too much about his past

• but seeing you turn them into something golden and beautiful with such ease and affection... gives him a new appreciation for those parts of him.

• he loves it even more when you connect nearby scars like intricate rivers of gold flowing across his body.

• make sure you fill the comfortable silence with lovely soft words of affirmation and kisses every now and then for the best results.

• absolutely call him your golden boy.

• the only issue is that he feels really bad for having to eventually wash them off.

• so take pictures and send them to him for just you two to hold onto ;)

• despite feeling bad about washing them off, he always feels so much better about his scars and body.

• and let him know this is exactly how you see his scars <3

• i feel like during times when you're not able to paint on him because of a late shift or something, he just looks back at the pictures and replays the soft memories for comfort.

• this is more towards the beginning of your relationship with him, when his insecurities about his past bothering you were the worst

• moving on from that, he is the perfect man to reference.

• he would find it so very funny if you ever complained about parts of him that are hard to draw.

• i could imagine just sitting there watching him work out and just... drawing the way his muscles flex and the way his body bends... dear lord those thighs...

• when you first did this, he immediately noticed. he didnt quite have the courage to ask if you were drawing him (after all, forms of art are very personal things)

• but when he sees you're staring at the sketchbook page more than him, he decides to take a break and ask you.

• not because he's getting jealous of the notebook. hes not a jealous person. the curiosity just takes over because the stares mean you're stuck on smthn or you're finished.

• and boy is he beyond flattered. flustered even.

• he's never really... thought much about himself. physically and mentally. so the fact that he's worth being sketched touches his very soul.

• if you're the type of artist who loves gushing over defined shapes and begin to ramble about the shapes that you love about him, his cheeks will be red and he will patiently listen to every word you have to say.

• as weird as it is to listen to someone describe his physical features with such passion, there's something special about the way you talk about it.

• especially if you suddenly realize what you're saying and get flustered.

• he likes feeling like art when its you. he loves the way you map out his body and turn the shapes of him into strokes of graphite poetry.

• .... he wouldnt mind if you drew him suggestively as well... so long as its for your eyes and his eyes only...

• of course there would be teasing about just how much you seem to adore his body, but never in a way that deters you from sketching him more.

• which, knowing Quest, his teasing quickly veers into horny territory. at the very least deep kisses.

• he says he just want to "give you more inspiration" and that "its his job as your muse"

• he definitely develops a fixation on your hands specifically. the way your hands trace his body delicately as if trying to memorize every line of him while making out with him on his lap.

• it absolutely drives him insane.

• the way his large hands encircle your wrist while his fingers press on your palms in bed. or when his fingers tangle with yours. and he can see you looking at it. memorizing every moment of it. of him. of the emotions tied to the image.

• that part he loves the most about your art. the pure emotion of it captured so perfectly

• oh yeah it definitely awakens something in him. especially if he finds you sketching those the next day peacfully at your desk.

• honestly i think you being an artist just changes the way he sees things. in the best of ways.

• he also finds himself massaging your hands absent mindedly while cuddling. and softly kissing them... they work so hard and he wants to take care of them for you.

• he is just so very happy to be your favorite muse.

~sigh. time to make a Blooming Panic section on my masterlist...

[holdupjack]

Forgetting You

——————

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

AU: Inspired by ‘Forgetting You’ by Cam

WARNING: ANGST NO COMFORT

——————

Third Person P.O.V:

Seven Years After The War

Hermione lay on the bed in the tiny hotel room as Christmas drew closer and closer every passing day.

They were staying near the Russian Ministry as they took a small vacation for the Holidays. Her future husband's 'idea' of a getaway.

Ron slept beside her as the digital alarm clock flickered to 3:09 A.M. Her eyes blinked slowly at the ceiling as she listened to his soft snoring fill the room.

Her mind was blank, but at the same time, it seemed to be filled to the brim with...something.

She slowly sat up and placed her feet on the carpeted floor. The fibers slipped between the spaces of her toes as she debated getting out of the warm bed.

The room was dark and stuffy, almost suffocating as she sat there. Hermione swallowed the ever-present lump in her throat as she stood up and slowly walked towards the bathroom.

The TV was on but was muted as it played a news broadcast, talking about some tragedy in a part of the world she didn't live in.

The bathroom was only a few feet away, but she felt as though she was dragging a skyscraper by a chin around her feet.

When Hermione opened the door, she flicked on the light and closed her eyes, the sudden brightness blinded her as she shut the entry behind her.

Her head began to throb as she shuffled over to the toilet and shut the lid, sitting down with a small sigh as she rubbed her temples.

She could hear the ice machine humming from somewhere near the small kitchen in their room. It was reassuring as she opened her eyes and adjusted to the light.

Hermione looked to her right and saw her reflection staring back at her. She didn't recognize herself anymore.

She stood up slowly and looked down at the counter to find her old makeup sitting on the corner instead of the one from home. Her hand reached for it but paused a moment halfway through.

Uneasiness filled her chest as she looked between the bag and the ring on her finger. One was shiny and new, while the other was old and ready to be forgotten.

Hermione swallowed the lump again as she grabbed the bag and pulled it over to her. Her fingers slowly unzipped the middle, where she found nothing but old makeup and dust.

Ron must have packed this for her by mistake, she swore she had left it under the sink, hidden behind the bleach and tile cleaner.

Her hand slipped into the bag and pushed away the contents until she saw a face she hadn't seen in years.

"Y/n..."

A small polaroid sat at the bottom, moving with the magic she had cast on it in the fifth year. Long forgotten.

Slowly she pulled it out, dust lay overtop of it from neglect. She quickly wiped it away and let out a shuddered breath.

'Love Birds 🧡

October 11th, 1995'

"I thought I had lost this" she whispers to herself as she stares at it with a desperate longing behind her voice. She recognized Ginny's Orange glitter gel pen.

Y/n played her guitar in the photo as a younger Hermione sat on the floor and watched with a lovestruck expression. She remembered Ginny telling her she snapped the picture while the two of them were stuck in their own little world.

Hermione let out a hardened breath as she placed the Polaroid down and rested her hands on the edge of the counter. She leaned against it and calmed her raging memories and emotions.

"Fuck" she choked out as her bottom lip trembled uncontrollably, she bit it in hopes to stop the sobs that tried to escape.

Everything she had pushed from her mind started to make its way to the forefront. Sending sharp pains to her soul as she remembers everything that she had loved and lost.

Hermione suddenly grabbed the photo and placed it in her palm, threatening to crumple it with a shaking hand.

"Stop haunting me!" She grits out as her eyes start to fill, threatening to spill out onto her dry cheeks.

"It's bad enough that everything reminds me of you! From the morning sun to the midnight moon...you've ruined everything normal in my life" Hermione says as her fingers flexed over it, refusing to crush the misplaced memory. A salty droplet fell on her face as she stared at it with a mix of anger and agony.

A grunt of annoyance left her lips as she threw the photo on the counter and turned around. She wiped her face in a way to clear her mind, but it didn't seem to help as more tears fell without her permission.

The mixed sounds of the AC and air vent cut in and out as they regulated the small space of the hotel bathroom. It didn't drown out her ragged breathing, sadly.

"You just had to be a hero" Hermione mutters as she turns back around and looks at the photo, that is now lying face down on the counter.

"I told you not to let go of my hand, but you went off and got yourself killed!" She spits out with pure anger as she flips it over and looks at the smiling face of Y/n.

"You're supposed to be here with me, not him. It was never supposed to be him." Hermione says as she gestures to the door, where her soon-to-be husband is fast asleep on the other side.

She breathed heavily, waiting as if the memory would reply. Of course, it didn't. It only replayed again.

"I'm left on this spinning rock in the middle of infinite space, without my favorite person, and you're somewhere where I can't see you...don't you get how physically draining these last seven years have been?" Hermione asks as her anger turns into sadness. Tears falling more frequently now that she's stopped holding back.

"You-You...ugh!" She whispered angrily as she tried to regulate her emotions, but they only seemed to spill over more as she stood in that freezing bathroom. Goosebumps rose onto her skin over time, and the bottom of her feet felt like it was burning due to how cold the tile was.

The picture continued to repeat as it showed better times, that we're trying to be forgotten. All Hermione could do was wrap her arms around herself and muffle the sobs that tried to escape her throat.

It took a few minutes before she spoke again, somehow even quieter. Her eyes darted back and forth between the mirror and the counter, trying to decide what to do.

She sighed, finally landing back on her favorite person...or favorite ghost.

"He buys me roses, I hate roses, and he knows that. He buys me white chocolate when I love dark chocolate. He doesn't like to hold hands when that's my favorite thing." Hermione explained as she began to pace slightly. The tile seemed even colder than before, and even more lonely.

"You knew all these things...you made sure to get me tulips, and dark chocolate, and to hold my hand like I'd disappear..." Hermione mumbled as she ran her fingers through her hair, shaking out the tangles in annoyance.

"Then the one time you didn't take my hand...you died"

That realization hurt.

Y/n had separated from Hermione during the battle, telling her she needed to 'go help' the others.

Ten minutes later, Hermione found nothing left but her wand. She was pulled away by Ron when the Nagini began to come their way.

After the war had been won, Hermione spent days clawing through debris and bodies in search of her lover. The smell of decay was still stuck in her nose to this day.

Y/n was never found.

Hermione hoped that she was out there somewhere, that she was hiding in shame from defecting from the war efforts.

But Hermione knew better.

She knew Y/n better.

That's why her mind told her that she was gone, beginning to come to ash that blew away quickly in the wind.

"Did it hurt?" She asked for the photo as silence scrapped at the walls of the bathroom. Threatening to claw out more realizations that she wasn't ready for...she'll never be ready for.

She hid from her grief like an owl in the night, huddling deep in her nest of sorrow. Her head burrowed down into her wings, shielding herself from the painful realities of the world. She wanted nothing more than to disappear into the blackness of the sky, to fly away and never return.

To escape her pain and loss, to leave her grief far below, to start anew, and never again know the weight of sorrow.

Yet, she held on to the love of her life, even as she was about to marry another.

"If I let you go...will I be happy?" She asks as her nails dug into the skin of her forearm, almost spilling blood from her grip.

She knew that answer. A ghost didn't need to come out for her to figure it out.

The photo showed the final moments before it repeated, where Y/n laughed as Hermione began to sing along.

She swore she could almost hear it.

Her eyes closed as she let her memory replay the vocals of that chuckle, hoping to have it embedded in her mind for safekeeping.

"I haven't heard that laugh in a very long...long time" Hermione chuckled sadly, a sigh coming out with it as she kept her eyes closed. Memories started to fill the recesses of her mind as she thought back on the night before they had gone back to the castle.

"Do you ever wonder what life will be like if either of us doesn't make it?" Y/n had asked as they lay on the small cot together, Hermione had her face buried against her neck. She could still smell nature and firewood that was stuck to her skin.

"Don't even put that into the universe, please" Hermione had whispered back as she held her girlfriend tighter, the boys were talking by the campfire outside.

"It's a valid question" Y/n replied as her hand trailed up and down her spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Even seven years later, in a hotel bathroom thousands of miles away from that forest.

"It's a scary question" Hermione retorted as she looked up at her, her lips brushing the underside of Y/n's jaw. She could still taste that stupid fizzy drink she loved from Hogsmeade.

Older Hermione chuckled at that little remembrance. Her hand reached up and touched her lips in a small attempt at feeling her lost love kiss again.

"How would you like me to phrase it then Granger?" Y/n asked with a small chuckle as she looked down and stared at Hermione with a playful gaze.

"Don't even bring it up" she replied as she leaned up and kissed her to shush the raging thoughts in that once beautiful mind of hers.

Of course, that only worked for a moment.

"Come on, we have to talk about the possibilities," Y/n says when they pull away, and Hermione crawls up to her, resting her forehead against hers.

"As long as you keep your hand in mine, we'll either go down together or survive"

Y/n knew better than to keep poking Hermione about a topic she didn't like. Which was, of course, death.

Hermione looked back at the mirror, and for a moment she swore Y/n stood behind her, smiling.

She took a few deep breaths, focusing her mind back on reality as the light hummed softly above her head.

Her hand grasped the photo gently as she shut off the light and exited the bathroom, walking into the small area that was only lit by the muted TV.

Ron was still in his deep sleep, snoring like nothing was wrong. When everything was wrong.

"I can't do this" Hermione whispers to his unconscious form as she stares at him. Ron's breathing was slow and calm, while hers was fast and earth-shattering.

Her ring finger seemed to burn as the cold metal latched to her skin, trying to stake its claim when it had nothing to take from her.

One person had claimed every part of her body with kisses and caresses full of promises of a life together that hadn't come.

Hermione placed the photo on the dresser as she ripped out a piece of hotel stationary paper and took the pen beside it.

She didn't cry, but guilt did fill her chest. She had tried her best to forget Y/n for him, but it wasn't fair to be unhappy with someone who was nothing but kind to her.

'I'm sorry'

The ring bounced slightly when she placed it on top of the note. Her eyes fell back to the photo when she grabbed her wallet from the bedside table and placed it inside. She didn't want to lose it again.

Hermione moved around the room silently as she packed her duffel bag and changed into better clothing. It only took her ten minutes or so to be standing near the door, looking back at Ron's sleeping form with a regretful expression.

"Goodbye" she whispers as she slips through the doorway and shuts it quietly behind her. The hallway was dim and vacant as she walked a few feet before apparating.

She found herself at the doors of The Three Broomsticks, it was loud inside as the smell of peppermint and cinnamon filled her nose before she even walked in.

Her duffel bag made a noise when Hermione hiked it up before opening the entrance. No one paid attention to her as she walked to the bar and took a seat at it.

Madam Rosmerta spotted her as soon as she sat down and placed her bag near her feet. She walked over with a knowing smile as she glanced down at her finger. Bare.

"What can I get you Ms.Granger?" she asks as she leans over the bar to hear her better. Hermione thought a moment and looked back at her with a small smile in return.

"Do you still sell that drink that she liked?" Hermione asks, silently confirming what everyone knew was going to happen when they saw the engagement announced in the newspaper.

"Of course" Rosmerta replies as she pushes away from the bar and walks to the back. Hermione pulled out her wallet and went to pay when she returned with the mug but was quickly thwarted with a simple 'it's on the house'.

Hermione was soon left to her devices as she took a sip of the drink, the taste of Y/n's lips raced to the front of her mind.

Her wallet laid on the bar top, and the corner of the Polaroid stuck out, enticing her to look at it again. So she did.

It now sat between her and the mug, moving in the dim lights as it replayed for maybe the millionth time.

As time went on, the cup eventually emptied, and Hermione found herself tracing Y/n's face with a heart full of ache.

"How are you?"

She looked up to find Rosmerta filling her mug again, which Hermione tried to pay for but was quickly stopped.

"I don't know how to answer that" she replied as the older woman looked down at the picture giving a sad smile.

She and Y/n had grown close while she was alive, or before she went missing. Rosmetra took it hard when she got the news.

"Sometimes I can still see you two in that booth" the older witch whispers as she points to a vacant table in the corner. Hermione chuckled softly at the memories.

When they looked back at one another, Madam Rosmetra gave a puzzled look when she saw the expression of conflict that laced the former Gryffindor's face.

"What is it?" she asked to which Hermione looked back at the photo and sighed softly. A single thought had been echoing in her mind since the war ended..and maybe it was just delusional hope.

"Do you...do you think she could still be alive?"

That question has been asked many times by different people. It was strange that Y/n was the only body that hadn't been found, but officials said she was most likely destroyed by one of the many vaporizing spells.

"Maybe, there's nothing wrong with a little hope" Rosmetra replied as Hermione looked back up at her, who now seemed to be thinking deeply about something.

"Do you mind if I post something on the bulletin board?" Hermione asks as she gestures over to the hanging board near the doorway. Rosmetra nodded as she was called over by another customer.

Now left alone, she grabbed her duffel bag and pulled out a small piece of paper, and a pen. Her heart thumped as she scribbled something quick but to the point.

Hermione downed the last of the drink and stood up, leaving a big tip for Rosmetra on the bar as well. She strolled over to the bulletin and found a spare push-tack, her eyes wandering to find an open space.

She soon hung her note on the board, taking a step back to look at it. It was in the middle, the Polaroid paperclipped to the piece of paper that simply said:

'Come Home - H'

Hermione stared at it another moment before slipping out into the cold night, the streetlights were dim as she walked towards an Inn down the street.

Her heart thumped softly as she thought about a reunion that would never come. At least not in life.

"I'll never forget you" she whispered into the air, her breath puffing visibly in front of her.

Even as she walked away, she could still hear Y/n's laugh as the Polaroid went through its endless loop.

A part of Hermione knew that her laugh would welcome her into the next journey of life. As much as she hated to think it, it seemed like paradise.

Maybe...

[ushsblog]

¡Cedlock week 2024!

3. Nerves

So, this was going to be a fic but I didn't have time to finish it (just start it basically lol) So I drew what I thought the rest would have been.

The morning of the jubilee, as with every major event at the castle, was quite a spectacle. The hallways bustled with servants hurrying back and forth, ensuring that every detail was nothing less than perfect, ferrying items from the kitchen to the great hall.

Two nervous sorcerers

This year’s celebration was planned to be even grander than the last. Neighboring kingdoms, both near and far, were invited to celebrate Enchancia's anniversary with a day of attractions, dancing, and feasting. Naturally, the amount of preparation for a party of such magnitude had the staff a bit unsettled.

Even for Sofia, the morning was hectic; she had to get up early to get ready and join her family in welcoming the hundreds of guests expected that day. Still, Sofia was very excited to see her friends and spend an afternoon playing with them, as she had missed the last one. She wondered if Cedric would offer to join in again.

Smiling and greeting the staff she passed, the princess snuck through the corridors toward a certain sorcerer's tower. Her small heels echoed against the endless stairs until she finally reached the top. Pushing the door slightly open, Sofia found Cedric gazing into a mirror, muttering nonsensical things to Wormwood.

"Mr. Cedric?" she called, snapping the man out of his reverie. Cedric gave a small jump of surprise and sighed with relief upon seeing her.

“Princess Sofia! Shouldn’t you be with your family?”

Sofia was about to respond but paused as she noticed Cedric’s unusual appearance. It was rare to see him look any different from his usual violet robe and tousled bangs; however, this morning his hair was slicked back, and his robe, though only noticeable to someone paying close attention, was different, brighter than usual.

"Sofia?"

"Why is your hair styled like that?"

Cedric hesitated. During that moment of hesitation, Sofia couldn’t help but think of how much the sorcerer reminded her of Baileywick, although, of course, the steward wore his hairstyle with far more elegance and tidiness than Cedric, whose rebellious strands were already starting to escape the wax’s hold.

“Does it look bad?” he asked nervously, quickly raising his hands to his hair.

“No! It looks nice on you, Mr. Cedric!” she assured him, watching the sorcerer undid the entire hairstyle in frustration.

With Cedric back in front of the mirror, trying to fix his hair, Wormwood sighed from his perch, covering his face with his wings in exasperation.

"For Merlin’s sake, how many times are we going to do this" the raven muttered under his breath.

“What’s going on?” she whispered back.

“Ugh. He’s gone crazy over that jester from Rudistan” Wormwood grumbled.

“Jester?”

“Yes, that clown who calls himself a sorcerer” he replied disdainfully. “He’s been fussing over his hair all morning to impress him. I don’t get it; he was our sworn enemy, and now he’s acting all... like this” he said, gesturing with his wing at the nervous Cedric fussing over his hair in the mirror.

Sofia raised an eyebrow, and Wormwood sighed.

“He’s worse than when that Sasha farce happened. I swear, if I have to hear one more minute of his babbling about him, I’ll fly off and never look back.”

“Wormwood, don’t bother the princess” Cedric interrupted upon hearing the bird’s squawks, silencing him as he turned around. His hair was now back in its usual style, though it looked sleeker than usual.

“Good luck spending the whole day with him” the raven grumbled before flying to the top of the tower, visibly annoyed.

Sofia watched him go, puzzled and thinking about what he had said. Was Mr. Cedric trying to impress someone? The sorcerer from Rudistan? She searched her memory. Last year’s jubilee had been memorable, though not necessarily for the right reasons. The worry over losing her friend still lingered in her mind; for a moment, she truly believed Baileywick would leave the castle. And Slickwell... that steward. So much had happened that day that she could barely recall anything beyond her mission to stop Slickwell from succeeding.

However, she still remembered Amber’s and the others’ stories about their games during the banquet that night. The sorcerer from Rudistan certainly sounded like a fun and skilled magician; Sofia remembered clearly how he had lifted the ship with Cedric to save everyone from the collision.

Cedric and Greylock seemed to be good friends, something the princess couldn’t often say about the people around the sorcerer. Perhaps Cedric was nervous about seeing him again; but Sofia couldn’t quite understand why.

As they descended the stairs to join her family at the castle entrance, his nerves became more evident. Somehow, Sofia knew that these nerves were different from the ones Cedric felt when he had to present himself to the king. No, this was something else. Something that seemed far more important and crucial than that.

This is Sofia uniting people who love each other like in "The Silent Knight"

Seriously, what I had written was better and it's a shame I can't find it. Full page now.

[sygneth]

Echoes lore time! (And also my random DE thoughts about Harry's place!)

Reading the last page, you might have had a feeling we're going to see the inside of Harry's place soon, and you were right!

So to make everything clear (and because, in the first place, I had a place with a very specific plan in my head when I've been writing scenes at HDB's) i drew a lil cheat sheet.

(Yes. I like to make building plans. A lot.)

I believe Harry inherited this place, and thus he owes it. And also, this is why it's in a not-the-worst of tenement houses and in not-the worst standard. It was a place where they used to live with Dora, and I think he made it a sanctuary of a kind after she left. He never moved anything from its original place deliberately, and so the place slowly started to become a decaying memorial of a nonexistent relationship.

Harry's place is a whole big meta topic to explore and I feel like there is a lot to it in terms of the psychology of a place.

Assuming that he is still living in the same place as he used to when with Dora, oh boy. The bad days, when every single thing reminded him of her. The remorse, the memories, the past. A scratch over the floor, where she tripped while dancing. Her favourite mug, or rather the few pieces of it, after he broke it in a fit of rage. An empty space after a painting that she loved so much. The scratched wall over the bedhead. The bed itself.

Then, the better days, when he tried to take care of his apartment, but some things were already damaged beyond repair. The plants died, he could buy new ones, but he knew that, sooner or later, they'd share the previous one's fate. The ripped carpet, stained furniture, cracked tiles. Could be replaced, but sooner or later they'd share the previous one's fate. A scratched floor. The scratched floor.

And then, rather sooner than later, the days become bad again.

I don't think Harry liked to spend time at his place. Especially in the bedroom. Especially when he wanted to quit. There was too much past in there, staring at him from every corner, every crack of the floor. I think a good deal of his past relapses might have been caused by this place. Sometimes a forgotten something he found while cleaning it up, sometimes just the space itself, soaked with memories.

(And to all my faithful readers of Echoes, I just want to let you know I read every single one of your tags and comments and it always makes my day <3 Thank you for that everybody, and if I don't always reply to the comments, I want you to know I do read them and I do appreciate them a whole whole lot, life is just very overwhelming sometimes)

[stealingpotatoes]

hi! i have a question/compliment about how you do characters if thats ok. you are able to draw thing like their hair and clothes very consistently in your comics, how do you do it? (also its amazing btw) is there a specific thing you do to make them look very similar or is it just practice? also i love your silly comics, they always make me smile!

here is a horse wearing a hat for your time

GASP THAT HORSE IS FULCRUM!! SIC 'EM BOYS!!

ok bein fr oo thats a very good question!!! the very simple answer is yeah, it is just practice lol -- but that's not a helpful tip so I'll elaborate!

Drawing a character consistently is down to 2 main things, imo. the first one is the most obvious: identifying the key features and shapes of the character. think big, don't get bogged down in getting all the tiny bits perfect -- most people won't notice if the little details change lol.

+ if it's a character I draw a lot, I'm usually drawing them from memory, not reference! and I think that rlly helps w making a character (at least seemingly) consistent, bc I will only be drawing the most memorable aspects of their design -- which is what YOU identify them as easiest!

BUT I will also reference my own art sometimes!! actually knowing how you drew them last time definitely helps lol!! REFERENCE YOURSELF!!!!

good exercises to improve character consistency: drawing in their simplest form w no detail (/drawing them timed), drawing them from memory and (obviously) just drawing them a lot!

the second thing is basically a more general version of the first -- it's having a consistent Way of drawing things. i don't mean "your art style needs to never change!!" cause consistent artstyles are bs. you just need a consistent perception/ way of looking at things and a bit of muscle memory!

like here's a character in 3 different "styles" but you can still easily tell it's the same character (and probably the same artist lol) bc the way my brain thinks abt each aspect of the character doesn't change! the rendering changes but the shapes (ie the hair, the jawline, the lines of the facial hair) remain the same bc thats Just How I Draw lol! makes him look consistent

the bad news is this is something you just achieve with practice. BUT doing those above exercises should speed things up for stylisation too!! but yeah its all abt identifying key features and having a consistent way of looking at things!

[fantasy-things-and-such]

OC questionnaire

Thank you for the tags Here, here and Here by @the-golden-comet, @the-ellia-west and @willtheweaver. sorry for being late >~<

My questions:

1. What is one hobby you have that may surprise others? 2. What is one possession that you would not part with under any circumstances? 3. What is one supernatural ability you wish you had? 4. Who do you trust the most? 5. Where would you like to live, if you could choose? 6. What keeps you motivated 7. How much water do you drink on average? 8. Favorite phase of the moon and why? 9.Who's your favorite person and why?

Lets get started!

1. What is one hobby you have that may surprise others?

Lilli: "I weave. People aways find that surprising 'cause my hands are soft."

Tira: "uh... I play the guitar! I don't come off very musical, though."

Camellia: "Singing." *Lilli laughs* "What?! Cheverouse likes it too."

Erain: "Hobbies? man... Its not really a hobby, but I dooo bake."

2. What is one possession that you would not part with under any circumstances?

Lilli: "this pendant. It's the only thing i have from my mother."

Tira: "hmm... oh! Probably this

Camellia: "don't be ridiculous."

Erain: "one thing? Practically, the E.S.K- but if we're talking personal belongings, this little doodle that my baby sister drew before i left. I keep it right here, in my shirt pocket. For good luck."

3. What is one supernatural ability you wish you had?

Lilli: "healing."

Tira: "Flight! well, i guess its not really a wish anymore."

Camellia: "Foresight, i guess."

Erain: "healing. by far the most useful, in my eyes."

4. Who do you trust the most?

Lilli: "...Millie, my sister."

Tira: "the most? mmm... Lilliwiess is a contender, for sure. I think she's number one, actually."

Camellia: "is 'myself' an acceptable answer? no? fine... i guess anyone in my squad, then."

Erain: "Jayson. He's a good leader."

5. Where would you like to live, if you could choose?

Lilli: "with Tira, so probably Eastern tarn."

Tira: "With Lilli! ...she said with me, didn't she."

Camellia: "er... i dunno. home? I've never thought about it."

Erain: "Northern or eastern tarn. actually, Kjerag might not be too bad...hmmm."

6. What keeps you motivated?

Lilli: "my squadmates."

Tira: "My unborn sister. or brother, i don't know, actually. I'll get to see them once I graduate here... I cant wait."

Camellia: "spite." *Tira and Lilli both laugh.* "of these two fuckers. i swear."

Erain: "Family. gotta keep pushin' for them, y'know? its the least i can do after everything they've done for me."

How much water do you drink on average?

Lilli: "uh... alot. im not sure. I drink when I'm thirsty and after sparring, so..."

Tira: "oh, probably... 4 liters? rough estimate? that feels like alot, is that a lot? I'm probably totally wrong."

Camellia: "fuck if i know."

Erain: "based on the amount of excercise we do as knights, probably alot. i'd say alot, though, mabye somewhere in the ballpark of 3-ish liters."

Favorite phase of the moon and why?

Lilli: "mmm... Full. its majestic."

Tira: "...I dont like the moon, actually. it.. has some bad memories. so New moon, i guess?"

Camellia: "probably half moon. I was born under a half moon."

Erain: "Half moon, mostly for practical reasons... it gives light on a good night. Plus, it's damn pretty to admire."

Who's your favorite person and why?

Lilli: "Tira. why is this a question?"

Tira: "...Why is this a question...? my answer's obviously Lilliwiess, but..."

Camellia: "favorite person? fuck me... Cheverouse isnt too bad."

Erain: "uhhhh.... My baby sister. she's just... so cute."

Your questions:

What's your favorite letter? do you read? if so, what's your favorite book? Who's your favorite Least-favorite person?

Tagging(gently):

@wyked-ao3 @aesthetic-writer18 @emilynotfound @agirlandherquill +open tag

[monstermaker17]

OMNITRIX WAR

Based on invincible war super heroes from cartoon Network Nickelodeon and Disney have to fight evil variants of Ben 10 to fight (no dc or marvel)

Generator rex Max steel and his team Jake long The Saturday's Steven and the gems Randy Cunningham Powerpuff girls Mad dogz(TMNT) (strongest version) Luz and her group Danny phantom Hero inside KND Finn and Jake Mao Mao Amphibia trio Ben and his team (I want to add more but I don't know anymore heroes)

Now the variants Top left to right going down from there.

First row: Hex possessed, ah puch controlled, alien X-tinction, chaos incarnate, nega Ben.

Second row: animo Ben, tyrant Ben, conquest Ben, benzarro, albedo.

3rd row:(BTW's I have no idea where the blue one from I've been trying to find the source I just saw the design thought it looked cool and drew it, and carnitrix belongs to Canibal099) Blue, carnitrix, eon, mad 10, bad Ben

Ok so bios

1 (hex Ben) hex switched bodies with Ben in his world after the fountain of youth fiasco in a second attempt to prolong his life with the power of the Omnitrix combined with his mastery of sorcery he defeated and killed adwaita having become lost on his path of vengeance against adwaita and became the very thing he fought.

2 (guardian Ben) during the episode with the sword when it was about to die it determined Ben as the perfect host to use to protect the sword after accomplishing this it destroys the intruders but at the same time within its new body ac puch sees within bens memories the various mythical tools considered lost to time and was particularly influenced by kid bens greed and this determined to guard these treasures as well he encounters the Saturday's destroys them and takes there mythical artifacts along with the sword he initially guarded and determines only he is worthy to use and guard eon steals these treasures and blocks puch's ability to sense them he tells ac puch to do one thing and he'll help the god recover them and so the god agrees.

3 (Alien-Xtincion) a Ben in a Gwen 10 universe where he saw his Gwen lead a miserable life due to the existence of the Omnitrix with villains school work attempts on her life and more he saw her spiral in a life of misery running her self to the ground in an attempt to get her life together seeing this suffering he hoped to use a spell to see the experiences of other users to see how they dealt with the stress however unbeknownst to him eon was influencing which worlds he saw seeing the various users at there lowest leading lives that were utterly lonely miserable with cut ties in various relationships and seeing others die and seeing worlds where the Omnitrix is outright evil making him believe that the Omnitrix is a curse to destroy becoming an anodite at full power he proceeded to take gwens Omnitrix and leaves to other universes to do the same pretending to be a celestial sapian.

(Chaos incarnate) Basically this version of Ben managed to absorb the chaos gods khorne slaanesh tzeench nurgle and he horned rat and became a singular chaos god with all the benefits of the 5 with complete control.

5 (nega Ben) he's a being similar to darkstar a parasitic creature that feeds off the life force of others his grandma verdonna being the same species that made darkstar beings of unlife that feast on mana the life of others.

6 (Superior Ben) based off of sheepblack11's parody of Superior Spider-Man in Ben 10 form this animo was never influenced by bens memories and ghost and sought to be a creater and bringer of life untamed and uncontrolled by destroying civilization and creating nature in his own image his transmogrifyer acting similar to the ultimatrix on his own forms.

7(tyrant Ben) in this universe vilgax kidnaped Ben in the same day he fought him and midewiped and brainwashed to be a successer an heir to his empire when vilgax died at bens hands he took the powers vilgax stole as well as enhancing himself with the same cybernetics vilgax had and set out to accomplish his mentors work.

8(conquest Ben) a version of Ben that was convinced by vilgax during the finally to dictate his version of justice and end evil however as the days went on dagon subtly influenced him until eventually both became one where he now believes that him conquering everything and ruling it will solve all issues.

9 (benzarro) a version of Ben that was infected by the zombie virus and was the 10th person to be infected and was consuming unopposed eon showed up and placed an asylum style control helmet to command and control the walking corps that changes with his forms.

10 (albedo) albedo is longtime arch enemy of Ben who's been promised by eon that he will use his time powers to reverse the transformation he's been forced into and undo the genetic damage to his body from his Omnitrix, his Omnitrix doesn't transform him it just keeps his forms stable for 10 minutes before it returns him to the default form the human form (his transformations resemble the classic series way of transforming full on lycanthropy style)

11( blue) I have no idea what his motivation is all I know is that he was evil

12(carnitrix) this is my interpretation of the carnitrix because the original was well to edgy so here's how my interpretation goes he becomes a monster like the original but his heroism is stronger than the monsters killing intent he's strong enough to some what aim the aggression but he can't stop accidental deaths unfortunately since the carnitrix is designed to be a weapon that targets life it can't untransform him he's stuck constantly switching alien forms and constantly fighting the monsters to force them away from seeking populated areas he's hunted down by the military for it(basically the hulk full Jekyll and Hyde) this he forces himself to stay awake for as long as he can to stop his body from doing these atrocities and because of the nature of the watch he doesn't need to eat drink or sleep but his mind is growing tired and slowly changed eon shows up and makes an offer untransforming him and offering him freedom in exchange for service in his delirium he accepts for something resembling peace when he's Told what he has to do and refused he transformed back and told if he doesn't do what he's ordered to do he'll be purposely placed in a populated area and forced to wreak havoc that's when he realized hes unknowingly accepted a feistian bargain.

13(eon) this is the ultimate alien eon he's a version of Ben that killed his eon and took his gear he's basically trying to pull off vilgax's plan from ov by designing the chronosapian time bomb to ignore his presence and target every other version of himself and replace prime Ben with himself.

14(mad 10) mad Ben is a Ben from an apocalyptic timeline where he's doing anything and everything to keep his civilization alive either though diplomacy or force his aliens supplies much water and plants to survive but the radiation still taints them and the Omnitrix being the only thing keeping him alive from his heavily irradiated body the offer he got from eon being kill this one world and he can essentially have a clean slate for his makeshift civilization.

15(Bad Ben) a criminal mastermind in control of the largest intergalactic crime empire in existence offered more he's motivated purely by greed.

I ran out of room for these last three

16(charmcaster Ben) I'm drawing

17(ghostfreak)im drawing

18(rooter Ben) I'm drawing

[havealotonmymind]

The Ballad of the Blade

Summary: There was power to words. Of that, Laurel always believed.

Upon meeting the Blade of Frontiers, she finally finds a story of valour worth crafting. A 5 + 1 fic where Laurel tries to write five verses to Wyll’s heroic tale and Wyll outshines her with his own.

For Day 1 of @madetobezine's OC x Canon Seasons Ship Week!

Rating: Teen and Up

Category: Tav/Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Wyll (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Poetry, Love at First Sight, Eye Trauma, Due to Volo lol, Only a mention though, Romance, Act 1 (Baldur's Gate 3), Named Tav (Baldur's Gate), Elf Tav (Baldur's Gate), Bard Tav (Baldur's Gate), 5 Times, 5 + 1 Fic

Also on AO3!

Storytelling had always been in Laurel’s blood. Her father often regaled her with his own accounts of how he had bested bandits, foul foes, and once, an evil dragon. He would conjure faint images to accompany these childhood bedtime tales. The memories of heroes who had long since passed on swirled about her head and around her room, much to her delight. It was hard not to dream of crafting her very own tale one day, trusty flute in hand. 

There was power to words. Of that, she always believed. When she came of age, she traveled to the bardic college of New Olamn in Waterdeep. This grand palace of complete bardic knowledge had an oral teaching tradition, though its vast library was certainly nothing to scoff at, either. It held more stories than her father could weave together in a lifetime, and Laurel absorbed them all.

Though many of her peers took up the College of Lore, Laurel had always been drawn to stories of bold heroes and even bolder adventures. The College of Valour was her one true calling, and she would not be denied it.

By the age of twenty, she could recite her people’s poetry back to front and recall all the best epics ever written. A good bard must have a wealth of knowledge to draw from, after all. How was she to ensure she wouldn’t accidentally recreate another bard’s verses without committing all their tales to heart first?

Of course, there were only so many tales she could hear over and over again before she grew bored. Faerûn was a wild and magical place full of stories yet to be told. If she was to make her mark, Laurel knew she must venture out into it.

Her luck was not so gracious. Her trip back to the Gate was thwarted by the sudden appearance of the nautiloid. The hero’s journey over before it even began.

Escaping with several new companions in tow was no easy feat, but one she accomplished with as much grace as one could muster on an organic ship made of guts. With the tadpole threatening to upend her whole world, she and all her new friends had very little time to waste. Laurel would have to set aside her poetry and songwriting for after they were cured.

Enter the Blade of Frontiers, stage right. It took only one princely introduction, a single dashing smile, for her to fall.

Truly, the Blade of Frontiers was a tale she hoped to capture, body and soul. He cut a fine figure and appreciated a good bit of wordplay besides. Surely it wouldn’t hurt for her first bard tale to center on a prolific hero who lived up to his reputation.

The first verse she spun was a poor one:

From death he spun,

By nature true

The boldest Blade

Rapier he drew

Goblins thwarted and mad worgs slain

Through his courage, the Coast heals ‘gain.

Sloppy work. Her teachers would tut at her for such clumsy rhymes. Fresh as a seedling just beginning to sprout, this feeling was something that needed to be tended to with care. Wyll was an easygoing sort who didn’t pay much heed to her flirtations, but she didn’t mind. She wouldn’t force it upon him if he didn’t feel the same.

Besides, with a goblin invasion imminent, it wasn’t exactly the best time to gallivant. Alas, there always seemed to be something.

Fighting side-by-side with him did wonders for her inspiration. Her second verse could do with some work as well:

Twixt grove and camp the Blade patrolled

With vim and vigor, unmasked True Souls

To destroy a cult: the Absolute

Ye harried exiles, take heart, take root,

For when the Blade a-comes to call,

‘Tis fortune abound; thy heart enthralled!

Perhaps she had laid it on a bit thick. His heroics were certainly nothing to scoff at. Demanding that others revere him as she did, however, was a tad on the nose. Still, Laurel didn’t see fit to hide her affections for him. What else could stir the heart more than a touch of hinted romance?

Should her tale ever make it out of her dusty notebook, let the stuffy scholars bicker over her authorial intent. The true romantics would know in their hearts.

The third verse was perhaps the most scathing of his circumstances:

The Blade of Frontiers, a hero most grand

Inspires those ‘round him to take a stand

A-gainst foul villains and gnolls alike

His charm, grace, heroics, all will strike

So selfless is he, the sweet, knightly prince

One look should be enough to convince

A grave price he pays yet wears it well

When patron appears, he damns her to Hell.

Her was viciously underlined. Laurel never wrote at her best when she was upset. The last couplet was particularly awful. She would have to rework the entire thing when she had the time. For now, away in her notebook it went.

The Blade of Frontiers, renowned hero of the Sword Coast, now a devil? The small-minded might sneer at this new reputation. Laurel was not so. If anything, she was more enthusiastic than ever to get his tale down just right.

Her fourth verse was a much shorter one, due to Volo plucking out one of her eyes. She wasn’t sure what hurt more: the phantom ache where her eye used to be, or her companions’ utter disregard for her feelings. She had trusted Volo despite her fear. Look where that got her. If not for the tadpole in her brain, Laurel would have curled up in a corner of the forest to let the moss overtake her. 

Wyll was the only one in camp that didn’t call her an idiot. Instead, he made an off-colour joke about the two of them being part of an exclusive, one-eyed club. At first, it succeeded in making her laugh, and she was glad for it despite the lingering pain. Then out of nowhere, tears began to spill down her cheeks. She didn’t mean to fluster him with her sudden outpouring, but it couldn’t be helped. Once it started, she hardly had the wherewithal to stop herself.

His strong arms around her were a comfort. She hadn’t realized how badly she needed a hug after everything. It only made her sob harder. He patted her back, muttering much-needed reassurances. So unfailingly kind, her Wyll.

Hers? No. She couldn’t think that. He would have done this for anyone.

Laurel stepped away, excusing herself as she darted back to her tent.

That night, she quickly scribbled out the shortest verse of his tale:

Devil not, the Blade demure

True to his word, his kindness endures.

The night of the tiefling party, she danced and drank and laughed with all the rest. It was refreshing to match her flute to Alfira’s ballads, to marvel at Rolan’s magic show. Her companions and all their guests were a riot of fun. The wine and food were delicious. Spirits ran high.

And yet, this party still felt incomplete. Where had Wyll gone off to?

Noble Blade, where art thou heart?

‘Tis everywhere and yet I start

To ponder if I tell thee true

My heart, I beg, do you love me, too?

Perhaps the worst part about being in love was the yearning. It was agonizing more so than it was encouraging. She had to get this feeling off her chest or she was bound to erupt.

Laurel smoothed out her long turquoise hair as best she could in her state. Never mind that Wyll had seen her utterly disheveled and covered in viscera before.

She found him standing alone by the lake, staring off into the horizon. Laurel had never seen him so melancholy before. Every day, he had a smile ready and unfaltering courage to spare.

This was a part of him she hadn’t seen. A part she suspected he didn’t let anyone see.

It occurred to her that Wyll might not need a grand epic of his sweeping good deeds. Perhaps, as all true heroes did, he merely needed a friend to lean on. For someone to understand. That always seemed to be at the core of her father’s tales. Perhaps it was time she learned something from them.

Laurel tapped him on the shoulder, smiling faintly when he turned to meet her eyes.

“Agh, hells. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice I was gone.”

“Of course I noticed,” she said, daring to take a small step closer. “It was no party without you.”

He had helped to free the Coast of another evil. Why shouldn’t he join in the revelry?

It was a beautiful spring night. The scent of lavender and freshly overturned soil swirled in the air above the salty muck of the lake beside them.

“Really? I’m honoured. In truth, I don’t feel in a festive mood, and I didn’t want to cast a grey cloud over the night.”

He had resigned himself to his new devil visage wholeheartedly, taking others’ opinions much too close to heart. After saving the grove from an entire army charging down their front doors, why did he still think himself unwanted? It made her blood boil. Was The Blade of Frontiers nothing more to these people than a symbol to be discarded once he served his use?

“You don’t unsettle me, you know that.”

Plain, honest, true. And he thought her a saint for it.

“If only half the world had half the heart that you do. But off with you. This is your day! Have a dance. Enjoy the music.”

Another gentle refusal. His constant self-sacrifice was infuriating. Wyll deserved to be looked after, too. He deserved kindness and love and just as much forgiveness as he gave to others, but couldn’t accept for himself.

“I want to dance with you.”

This made him laugh and she felt vindicated that he was dropping his guard at last. They talked about well into the night about life in the city. He revealed his own love for dancing, even tossing her a compliment or two on her figure and form. If she was a bit more sober, the compliments alone would have sustained her. It was only after engaging in a bit of banter did her courage decide to rear its head up.

Just as he tried to usher her back to the party once more, Laurel said, “If not a dance, then maybe a kiss.”

Bold, entirely without poetry or romance. Just a dainty question practically thrown his way.

Wyll chuckled, though not without malice. “You drive a hard bargain,” he said. “But just the one.”

Oh. Oh, he accepted.

Laurel took an uneasy step towards him, studying how the torchlight flickered along his dark skin. He sucked in a breath like he was preparing to dive into the lake before him.

Her lips brushed against his and Laurel nearly keeled over. Her head spun. Her heart raced. It was lovely and far, far too short. A mere peck. Still, it made her incredibly happy, and really, what more could she ask for from him?

Laurel smiled and it was as though she had unlocked another secret part of him. Wyll’s own smile was far softer than she expected and he looked away. “Ah, that smile—it could light up a room. Hells, it could light up the entire Bay of Balduran.”

All her previous, secret efforts done away with two lines. And they didn’t even rhyme.

She wanted to tell him everything there and then: her feelings, the fact that she’d been outlining verse after verse of their journey together. Buried in the dizziness of her mind laid the beginnings of a tune, slow at first with whispering notes like rainfall, then growing lighter like the sun after the rain. 

Laurel had been so focused on the verses that she forgot to come up with the melody.

Wyll set a strong hand on her shoulder. “There will be another time for us.”

She hoped that was true. She hoped that time would come soon. What a joy it would be to have space to rest at last. To put her own feelings on the forefront and simply…fall in love. Hold hands. Hells, to have enough time for a single dance.

Laurel placed a hand over her lips with a faint smile. “I’m sure there will be. Good night, Wyll.”

Her head was abuzz with more than just alcohol as she wandered back to the dwindling party. Most of the tieflings had wandered back to the grove for one last night. Some still tried to stoke the fires of those remaining, but it was clear from the pockets of quiet that it wasn’t working.

Laurel bid everyone good night as she made her way to her tent, or more importantly, her notebook. One last drunken stanza managed to scribble its way out before she fell prey to dreams of him:

A stolen kiss by lakeside light

Another time to take my flight.

To you, the Blade, I dedicate

My time, my heart, to shatter fate.