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captainsophiestark · 6 months

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Happy Ending

Luke Castellan x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Day 22 Prompt: "Who takes care of you?"

Summary: What if Luke had come by to see Y/N, his pre-betrayal best friend and SO, instead of Annabeth between books 3 and 4?

Word Count: 4,189

Category: Angst, Fluff

A/N: I really loved the vibes of this post by @m4gp13 so this is very loosely inspired by it, even though the main body of the story doesn't have much to do with it lol

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed, staring at the piles of boxes on the floor of my dorm room. The spring semester of my second year of college was just coming to a close, and I still had a lot to do to be ready for everything after it finished. I was moving into my own apartment for the summer, and needed to move from the dorm room to my new apartment. As soon as that was over, I'd planned a visit to Camp Half-Blood, the training camp for heroes I kept going back to, even though I was technically an adult.

I needed to pack everything in my dorm, move it to my apartment, and then be able to unpack everything I'd need for a few weeks visiting camp. This packing job would need to be strategically worthy of Athena.

I'd just barely managed to psych myself up to get started when a knock came at my door. I huffed a sigh, but I really didn't mind the distraction all that much.

"Coming!" I called. I glanced out the peep hole, then froze solid when I saw Luke Castellan staring back at me.

My heart stopped dead in my chest. I looked again and saw he had no monsters with him, at least not visibly, but I couldn't understand why he would come here without them.

Luke had been one of my closest friends in the world since we met as kids, on the run together from our mutually shitty families. We'd met first, then found Thalia and Annabeth after. Luke and I were the same age, and we'd been thick as thieves since day one, Hermes pun intended. As we'd gotten older, a small crush I'd had on Luke had grown massive, and luckily for me he'd returned my feelings. We'd been happily dating and in love ever since, until two summers ago, when he'd betrayed me and every single one of our friends and joined Kronos.

I'd barely talked to him since. We only had contact once and a while, and every time, it went the same way. I was hurt, he was apologetic but not willing to change any of his decisions. Me and the rest of Camp fought him and his monsters, and I tried not to fall apart at the loss of the love of my life.

The distraction provided by college had been a serious, serious relief.

But now, Luke was here. In the middle of space where I very intentionally avoided thinking about him, on my doorstep for whatever reason. And I had no idea what to do.

"Y/N? I know you're in there. I'm here under a flag of truce. I just want to talk."

Just like that, any desire to duck and hide crumbled. The rational part of my brain screamed at me that he could be lying, that this might just be a trap, but I ignored it. After everything we'd been through, if Luke said he wanted to talk, I wanted to hear him out.

I opened the door, and Luke's shoulders sagged with relief when he saw me. I wanted to dart forward and wrap him in a hug, something I hadn't been able to do in two years, but I held myself back. Luke shifted a little from foot to foot, looking incredibly awkward, so after a second's hesitation I stepped to the side.

"Would you like to come in?"

He gave me a suspicious look, like he thought it was a trap or a trick or something. My heart shattered in my chest. How had things gone this wrong, that we stood on opposite sides of the door as basically strangers?

"My house is a mess, because I'm in the middle of packing up to move, but... if you want to talk, Luke, I feel like the hallway isn't gonna be the best place to do it."

He gave me a curt nod, not quite meeting my eyes as he walked past me into my apartment. I glanced down the hallway, taking one last look to make sure we didn't have any lingering monsters, but things were deserted. I sighed and went back into my apartment, closing the door behind me.

I found Luke hovering in the space between the kitchen and the living room, surveying things with a strange look on his face. I moved toward him carefully, not getting too close in case I spooked him.

"Do you want some tea or something? I haven't packed my electric kettle yet-"

"I think tea might take longer than the five minutes I promised."

I turned to look at Luke, raising one eyebrow in challenge, a little bit of our old rapport back. He shifted his weight around and glanced towards the door, then met my eyes again.

"Luke... is some giant monster going to burst through my door in five minutes? Or an army of small monsters, or anything under that general monster-army umbrella?"

"What? No, no, there's... no. I'm here under a flag of truce. There's nothing coming to hurt you, and when I leave... I'll leave."

"Okay then," I said, deciding not to comment on just how shaken and pale Luke looked, at least not right now. "Then I'm giving you a pass on the five minutes. And electric kettles take like two seconds anyway, seriously. They're magical."

Luke huffed, shaking his head as an incredulous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. My heart squeezed, but I made myself move towards the kitchen and act like things were normal.

"Take a seat, Luke. Or come pick your tea."

Luke took the second option, and my heart doubled its speed when I felt him hovering behind me, closer than we'd been in a long time if you didn't count combat. He leaned over my shoulder to point to the bag of black tea on my counter, and I nodded as I poured the hot water into our cups. I dropped two teabags in each of our drinks, then turned to Luke with a smile.

He stood a little more than a foot from me, and he took the cup from my hands carefully, like he didn't want this bubble of peace and normalcy to burst either. I stared into his beautiful, bright blue eyes, a smile growing on my face again despite myself. I'd missed this. A lot.

The moment lasted another few seconds, and then Luke cleared his throat and looked away. He took a tentative sip of his tea, then looked at me again, his face deadly serious.

"I don't know how to say this. I... I learned some things recently, about some plans I wasn't aware of before."

He paused and took another sip of his tea, and his hand shook a little as he brought the mug away from his lips. Shock coursed through my body as I realized Luke was scared.

"Kronos, he- he's going to use me. He's going to use me to take over the world. This summer... he's going to use me like a stepping stone, until he gets so much power he's unstoppable."

"Luke... what are you saying?"

His eyes had wandered to stare holes in the wall of my kitchen while he'd talked, but now they snapped back to me, wide and full of urgency.

"I'm saying I want to run away. I want us to run away, like the old days. Before... before he gets the chance to carry out his plan."

I stared at Luke for a few minutes, then shook my head, scoffing and pushing past him into the living room of my house. I paced a little, trying to make sense of what he'd just told me. What he'd just asked of me.

"Luke... I don't know what to say!" I finally admitted, completely honest as I turned back to him. He watched me, his expression guarded. "I don't... I don't think I can just run away. Not from the life I've managed to build, not from our friends still here and risking their lives!"

"So that's it, then?" he asked, taking a few steps forward, his tone angry. "Your answer's no?"

I huffed a laugh, staring at anything in the room except for Luke and trying to think. My brain was working a million miles an hour, but I still needed a little bit of time to think things through. But I wasn't sure I had time.

"Okay, Luke, can we sit down for a minute? Actually talk about this?" I said, taking slow steps towards him. I set my mug down on the nearest table, then reached out to gently rest my hands on his. A storm of emotions raged behind his eyes, but he didn't stop me or pull away. "This is a lot to take in all at once. Can we work through this together?"

His jaw worked like he was holding back some retort, but he let me pull him along towards the couch. Slowly, together, we sank down onto the cushions. I only pulled one hand back, and made sure our knees rested against each other, hoping it would do something to help keep Luke grounded.

"I don't want to run," I said simply, meeting his eyes. He opened his mouth, looking ready with an outburst again, but I continued before he could. "But Luke, think about it. Where are we gonna go that he doesn't find you, especially if he wants to? Monsters can sniff us out. We'd never, ever be able to live another day without looking over our shoulders."

Luke's shoulders sagged, and he shook his head miserably as he stared at the half-full mug in his hand.

"Then there's no hope."

"That's not what I said. And it's also not true." Luke scoffed, shooting me a look out of the corner of his eye. I looked right back. "If you don't want to follow through on what Kronos is asking of you, why not just come back with me? To Camp, to my somewhat normal life. I have an apartment with space for two. You could even enroll with me next semester, if you wanted to."

Luke shook his head. He pursed his lips as he raised his head to meet my eyes again.

"And let the Olympians continue exploiting us? Let them keep destroying people and lives because we don't matter to them?"

I huffed a sigh. "Look, I'm not their biggest fan either, but right now it seems like it's 'let Kronos kill you' or 'stop fighting the Olympians'."

Luke shook his head again, more energized this time, more angry. He stared at the wall ahead of us, the same hurt and bitterness I'd seen from him over the years burning in his eyes.

"It's just not right. There should be something we can do. Something that isn't Kronos, but isn't letting the Olympians win."

And just like that, a lightbulb went off in my head.

"Luke... what if there was a way we could do that?"

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

That night, Luke and I stayed up until almost two in the morning brainstorming and working out the details of my plan. When we finally decided to get some sleep, he stayed with me, and curling up in the same tiny twin bed, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, had me more at peace and ease than I had been in a long, long time.

The next morning, we finalized a few things over breakfast. Then, there was nothing left to do but put our plan into action.

Luke stayed in the apartment, tasked with keeping his head down and finishing packing for me, since I had other places I had to be. Namely, Camp Half-Blood. A little earlier than I'd talked about with Chiron, and hopefully, before the place was crawling with campers for the summer.

Thankfully, it didn't take me too long to get to Camp. I arrived a little after lunch and found the place expectedly deserted. From the top of the hill, I could see some of the year-rounders moving around the lake. I tried to keep them from noticing me as I headed straight for the Big House.

I paused just outside the front door to steel my nerves one last time, then marched inside. I found Chiron and Mr. D sitting together, apparently deep in conference. They both looked up when they noticed me, matching looks of surprise on their faces (although Chiron's had a noticeably happier edge to it).

"Y/N! We weren't expecting you for another few weeks-"

"I'm not staying for long. Something just came up that I needed to talk to you about right away. To both of you, actually, especially Mr. D."

He raised a bored eyebrow in my direction but otherwise didn't move. Chiron motioned to a chair at the table.

"By all means, please."

"That's alright, I think I'll stand," I said. I took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders and straightening my spine. I would not back down, wouldn't leave until I'd succeeded. Luke and I's future depended on it.

I took a moment to make very intentional, determined eye contact with Mr. D. His other eyebrow raised.

"I'm here to bargain for a pardon for Luke Castellan."

Silence. Both Chiron and Mr. D just stared at me for a few long moments, then turned to look at each other. Chiron looked concerned, but Mr. D burst out laughing.

"He's a traitor and an enemy of Olympus! This has all been very boring and ridiculous, and a waste of our time. Get out."

Mr. D's last word had a firey threat behind it, but I didn't flinch.

"You and the rest of the Olympians are perfectly aware what a threat Kronos presents. Everybody's getting scared, and they should be. He's got a plan for returning to his Titan form, the one he had before he was defeated the first time, before Zeus cut him apart and cast him into Tartarus. And it's a plan that he can definitely make succeed.

"Luke knows all about this plan. Obviously. And he's willing to defect and tell you all about it, so we can stop it before it happens. But you have to give him a complete pardon, sworn on the River Styx by Zeus."

Mr. D snorted again, this time raising from his chair and taking a few threatening steps towards me. I still didn't back down.

"Y/N, listen," Chiron interrupted, shuffling forward a little bit to stand partially in between me and Mr. D. "If you have information that could save Olympus and the camp-"

"Oh, I have some. Just like Chris Rodriguez had some. But Luke has all of it. And you're not getting any of it without giving him a pardon first."

"Or we could force it out of you before finding your little boyfriend and doing the same to him," said Mr. D, his tone light but his eyes blazing. Chiron started to step in again, but I spoke up before he got the chance.

"You haven't been able to find him this long, you won't be able to find him now. And anybody who knows anything about interrogations knows that torture just plain and simple doesn't work for getting information." Mr. D grunted, but we both knew I had him there. "Besides, if Luke gets his pardon, that means more than just getting all the information from Kronos' former right hand man. It also means that Kronos loses said right hand man, who's been organizing and leading a lot of the work so far."

Chiron and Mr. D shared a look, and I tried not to let it show just how much my heart was racing. For the first time since I'd walked in here, I actually felt a glimmer of hope that my plan might succeed. Chiron turned back to me, the worried look still on his face.

"Y/N... what makes you so confident that Luke wants to defect?"

"He sought me out," I answered simply, trying to dance around his location at least a bit. "He's realizing quickly just how bad Kronos would and could be, and he's scared. Terrified. He wants a way out, so when he found me, he asked me to run away with him. I suggested trying this plan first, mostly so I don't have to leave behind everyone else I love. But also because, this way, you might stand a chance against Kronos that you wouldn't have if we'd left without offering information."

The conversation continued for almost another hour, centered mostly around Mr. D making threats and, when I didn't back down, reminding me that I was trying to demand something of Zeus. He made plenty of good points, but I'd thought through all the ways this plan could go terribly, painfully wrong with Luke before I'd come here. I wasn't going to give in, for anything.

Finally, after restating my points and my argument a few times, Mr. D agreed to bring my request to Mount Olympus. I waited anxiously in the Big House with Chiron, whose brow remained deeply creased the entire time. I didn't engage, intentionally avoiding the conversation he looked like he wanted to have, but I saw him watching me out of the corner of my eye.

I started to get worried as the evening came, but finally, Mr. D reappeared. The first time he'd delivered his news, I honestly hadn't believed him. I asked him to repeat himself, which he rolled his eyes over, but the words were the same. Somehow, by some miracle, I'd managed to succeed.

Zeus was willing to give Luke his pardon in exchange for information and defecting.

I wasn't a complete idiot, so made sure the terms were clear when Mr. D brought me to Olympus to witness the oath. The words covered any retaliation, punishment, or harm that might come to Luke, and completely prevented it. Zeus spoke the words and the sky rumbled with lightning. I tried not to shake in relief or from the adrenaline dump as I bowed and promised he wouldn't regret his decision. Hermes shot me a grateful look on my way out, and I returned his nod. He'd been awful to Luke, but we were aligned in not wanting to see him dead, and I got the feeling Hermes had been helpful in pleading my case.

When we returned to the Big House, I headed for the door as quickly as possible, promising to bring Luke back with me in a week when I'd been planning to return anyway. I still had to move out and then move in to a new place again, and Luke had assured me that week of time wouldn't cost the war.

I raced back home, breaking almost every traffic law in the process, but I didn't care at all. I called out to Luke from the hallway, so he wouldn't be scared when I flung the door open, then rushed to wrap him in a giant hug. We sank to the floor together, crying in relief, and stayed like that for a long, long time.

The next week felt like a dream. Luke and I finished packing up my old apartment, then moved together into the new one, which we'd started calling 'ours'. We had to duck monsters a few times, and Luke was still in significant danger, but this time we were on the same side. As we settled into our new place on the last night before we were supposed to head back to camp, I quite literally couldn't have been happier.

It was a little strange returning to camp with Luke, but I quickly got over my own concerns when I saw how tense he was. I held his hand the whole way in, and thankfully, we'd still managed to get here before most of the summer campers. Luke and I sat shoulder to shoulder in the Big House while he told Mr. D and Chiron everything about Kronos and his operation. It took hours, and I could tell Luke struggled to get a lot of it out. But he did.

It had taken long enough that we decided to stay the night, even though I could see Luke clearly didn't want to. We stayed in the Big House, and the next morning, we finished the last of the intel-sharing before heading back home.

Chiron stopped Luke on the way out the door with a hand on his shoulder and said he was so happy to have Luke back. Luke just nodded, but I squeezed his hands as I noticed a single tear making its way down his cheek as we left.

"You know..." I said as we climbed in the car. I was driving, and Luke stared determinedly out the window. "Chiron's probably not the only one who'd be happy to have you back. There might be some apology tour type-stuff, but for the most part... I think you'd get a warm welcome home."

Luke just gave a noncommittal grunt, and I let it go. That was a bridge we could cross later.

For now, we still had one final part of our plan to put into action.

The reason Luke had joined Kronos in the first place was because he'd been neglected by his Olympic parent, especially since his mortal parent had been in such a bad place. He'd discovered the hard way that Kronos was no better alternative, but the fact remained that the gods used their mortal children at best, and at worst completely ignored them for their entire lives.

We needed to find a third option, some middle ground way to make things better. So, we decided to be the change we wanted to see.

As legal adults with a newly moved-in apartment that had a decent amount of space, we had the power to make our home a space for demigods who had nowhere else to go. If their immortal parents were neglecting them and things weren't good with their mortal parent either, they could come to us. For a little while, or to stay for good. We made our own little sanctuary, then shared it with all the kids like us who'd needed it.

Over time, the operation expanded, and we moved into a bigger apartment with more space. Thanks in part to Luke and I, Camp Half-Blood won the war, and we were able to do even more once Kronos stopped being a threat. What had started as not much more than a dream of doing good had turned into a loud, busy, happy house with people constantly coming and going.

Which is how we'd ended up in an alleyway talking to a scared teenager, after helping defeat a monster who'd been bearing down on him.

"Who takes care of you?" asked Luke, a sympathetic and understanding frown on his face as we stood a little ways from the kid. We didn't want to make him uncomfortable, but we'd gotten good at spotting the signs of a young Half-Blood in distress and helping them.

"I take care of myself," the kid spit. I tried not to glance at Luke.

"We used to do that, too," I said, moving a little closer to Luke. "We both ran away from home, survived on the streets, although I guess we really took care of each other."

"Now, we take care of people like you," Luke continued, right where I'd left off. "Do you know what you are?"

The kid hesitated, then half shook his head. He at least had some idea, then.

"You're a Half-Blood," I said. "Half mortal, half immortal Olympian god."

"...What?"

"Look, I know it's a lot to process," said Luke. "But the longer the three of us sit in this alley, the more likely it is another monster's gonna come and pick a fight."

We managed to get the kid up and moving, heading back for our apartment. On the way, we explained more about the Olympians, and told him about Camp Half-Blood.

"It's a good place to get training, and to meet other Half-Bloods like you," I said. "A place for heroes."

"It's only one option, though," Luke added. The kid nodded, looking a little overwhelmed but excited as we stopped outside our apartment door.

"And... what's the other option?"

Luke and I shared a smile, then he pushed open the door to our apartment.

Inside, we were immediately greeted with a wave of noise and excitement. We'd left Ethan Nakamura, one of the Half-Bloods Luke had met away from camp, in charge, and he'd been leading the rest of our group in basic combat lessons.

"What... what is this place?"

"A place for normal kids who need somebody to take care of them," Luke answered. "You'll still get training, since monsters will always be trying to kill you."

"But we won't ever ask anything of you, other than to do your own damn dishes," I said. "No dangerous quests, no tribute to the gods. Just our own little makeshift family going through life together."

Luke put his arm around me, pulling me into his side and kissing my temple as Ethan noticed our newcomer and waved him over to join in the fun. Luke and I stayed where we were, watching the bubble of happiness we'd made together with smiles on our faces. We'd gone through hell and back to get here, but as far as I was concerned, every moment of pain had been worth it for Luke and I's happy ending.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

Percy Jackson Taglist: @valkyriepirate

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halfmoondaze · 2 months

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Flickering Desieres

A fic collaboraton with @heavyhitterheaux

Born and raised in Y/H/T, Y/N knew from a young age that she wanted to be a singer and that she wasn’t going to let anything get in her way of her dream becoming a reality.

She would go on to perform in local bars and coffee shops that were known to have open-mic nights and spend the rest of her time writing her own songs and posting videos of her singing on Tik Tok.

She posted a song that she had written called “Drowning in the Blue” on the platform, not thinking much of it. However, the song quickly gained traction and went viral, amassing over 230 million views.

As the song gained popularity on Tik Tok, she quickly caught the attention of music label executives who were eager to sign her.

After careful consideration, she chose the small independent label “Adagio Records Co.” And the rest was history.

Every single time an opportunity presented itself, she would sing. Whether it be around the house, performing for family, or local talent shows. When she saw an opportunity to sing, she took it.

Meanwhile, Jack had just finished filming his latest movie starring Matt Damon and Casey Affleck called “The Instigator” in Portland. Overall, Jack felt more inspired than ever to go back to the studio and create new music. The last thing that he ever wanted anyone to think is that he was leaving music behind for acting, because that definitely wasn’t the case.

“Look if it isn’t the movie star.” Urban said as Jack entered the recording studio.

“Hey man.”

They did their secret handshake as Jack sat down next to him.

“How was Portland?” Nemo asked.

“Wet.”

They started laughing from Jack’s response and Nemo just simply shook his head.

“The label got me this list of the possible female singers we could bring in for the feature” DJ Drama said as he sat down.

“Shoot, let’s hear it.”

“Doja Cat?”

Jack thought for a second. “No”

“SZA?”

“No”

“Y/N?”

Jack pauses for a moment.

“Who is Y/N? I’ve never heard of her. Is she a new artist?”

“Her song blew up when she posted it on Tik Tok not too long ago. Since you hardly ever go on there, I didn’t really expect you to know.”

As Jack quickly learned about Y/N’s music, he became captivated by her sound as a singer which was something unlike anything he had heard before. A sound that was both fresh and somehow nostalgic. With hints of 90’s R&B, soul, and smooth jazz; mixed with contemporary pop. He found her songwriting skills impressive and authentic. He was hooked.

At this point in time, the choice was obvious and he couldn't wait to meet her in person.

He felt as though this would be a good move for him seeing as the most he ever did with another female artist was hop on the remix version of a song. However, this time they were starting from scratch and knew that this was something that his fans had been waiting for. New features with new people.

It was true that he was worried about the hype surrounding him and his career dying down, but knew for a fact that as soon as he made the announcement surrounding the single being released, it would pick back up.

That morning, Y/N showed up early to the studio wearing a men’s button up shirt as a dress, knee socks and sneakers wanting to be comfortable for however long that she was going to be here for.

“Y/N, you must already know Jack.” DJ Drama introduced her.

Jack went in for a hug but Y/N stopped him reaching out for her hand for him to shake.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, I've heard so much about you.”

Jack smiled.

“Good things, I hope” he joked as he shook her hand.

Jack went on and introduced Y/N to Urban and Nemo.

“We are glad to have you here. Thank you for helping us out” he smiled.

“Happy to help.”

“Would you like to go over the song?”

“No, I’m good,” she said as she entered the recording booth and put on the headphones.

Jack was taken back by her confidence but thought it was very attractive.

“Ok. Whenever you’re ready” he said.

That’s when Y/N who was supposed to sing the chorus to his song “Locked In” however, she completely changed the lyrics and Jack stopped her mid performance.

“Can we stop?” Jack asked as he looked over at Nemo who simply nodded his head.

Nemo stopped the track and waited for the both of you to agree on the next steps.

Y/N takes off her headphones and turns to Jack wondering what the problem was, but deep down she knew.

“Those aren’t the lyrics” he said and turned to Nemo. “Do you have a copy of the lyrics you can give to Y/N?.

“Oh, I know what the lyrics are”

“Then why aren’t you singing them?” Jack asked not understanding what was happening at the moment.

“Well, as far as I’m concerned, I was told to come here to help you with your lyrics which is what I did.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your label approached me to help you write a hit. And that’s what I'm trying to do."

“My last album was very successful.”

“I don’t think an album that scored 2.9 on Pitchfork would be considered successful.”

Jack looked at her stunned, not knowing how to respond.

“No offense, but your music is on a surface level” you replied not missing a beat. “You talk about all this generic stuff like proving your haters wrong, bragging about your conquests…nothing groundbreaking” you paused. “You never reveal anything about yourself.”

Jack clenched his jaw as he crossed his arms, but he didn’t look away from you as you were talking to him.

“I’m sorry?” he raised his brow, feeling a mix of surprise and irritation. No one had ever challenged him like this before.

“You’re not really saying anything” Y/N pressed. “If you want to stand out, you need to be more vulnerable”

He scoffed.

“And just spill my dirty laundry into the world?” he shot back. “I’m not doing that”

“Suit yourself” Y/N shrugged. “But don’t expect your fans to care for your music if you’re not willing to be real with them.”

With that Jack left the studio without another word, clearly pissed off because of the exchange that had just happened.

Y/N turned to look at DJ Drama who couldn’t contain his laughter.

“Did I say something wrong?” Y/N curiously asked because as far as she was concerned, she was simply being honest with him.

Jack walked out of the studio and headed over to Craig Kallman’s office who was the CEO of Atlantic Records and he quickly knocked on the door. Hearing his voice say ‘Come in.’ He proceeded to enter.

“Jack, what’s up?” He asked as he looked up at him.

“There’s a bit of an issue with the collab with Y/N. I don’t think she’s the right fit.”

Craig simply looked at him before offering his advice.

“Jack, I know it can be challenging working with a new artist, but I think Y/N can bring a fresh perspective and new life into your music.”

Jack sighs as he sits on the sofa across from Craig’s desk.

“I’ve built my career on my own terms and I don’t want to compromise my authenticity for the sake of a hit song.”

“We’re not asking you to compromise Jack. We’re asking you to explore new possibilities and push your boundaries as an artist.” Craig says, his tone gentle but firm. “Let’s just call it a day and start over tomorrow; I’ll let Y/N know”

Jack was feeling somewhat reassured but still conflicted.

He stood up, thanked Craig and exited his office hoping that things would go better tomorrow

#jack harlow imagine #jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow x you #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow concepts #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow one shot #jack harlow fanfiction #jack harlow fic #jack harlow fanfic #singer!reader #famous!reader #harlow jack

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anjaelle · 1 year

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The Next Great American Epic

Pairings: Professor!Oscar Isaac x Black Female!Reader

Warnings: Oral (f!receiving), Age Gap (Reader is in mid-late 20s), Student x Teacher Relationship, Unprotected Sex (strap up, people), implied infidelity

Summary: Professor Hernandez Estrada is a proven smartass and literary genius. As much as you can't stand the way he tears your work to shreds, you can't help but respect him and hold his opinion of you in high regard.

Word Count: 4.2K

a/n: Based on this post and the intense love I have for gray, studious looking Oscar. I started this in July 2022, and I'm just now finishing it. I'm semi ashamed but also not. Don't judge me.

(gif source)

Oscar treated every lecture like a performance, to some degree. You could feel the passion behind his words and knew he spent countless sleepless nights dissecting the language of the great intellectuals before him.

He was a nerd, thus, incredibly attractive in that "dad's best friend who's a museum curator and laughs at his own history jokes" kind of way. His written work was brilliant. You wanted to impress him. Not just because he was cute--though that was a bonus--but because he pissed you off with how incredibly critical he was of you. You were convinced he did it just to fuck with you, specifically, for shits and giggles. Every so often, you'd zone out imagining him cackling madly at your work, using his Red Pen of Death to hurt your pride. Sometimes you'd imagine a deeply passionate argument between you two, ending with you throwing things. Sometimes it ended with you splayed out on his desk. Again.

When that happened, you'd mentally return to the lecture and find him looking at you, curiously. If you didn't know any better, you'd swear that he could read your thoughts.

He paced the front of the room in a heavy black sweater with the sleeves rolled up, occasionally pushing his thick rimmed glasses up his nose as he spoke. The brief pauses he took to sip water or ask a question were punctuated by the click-clack of keyboards throughout the room. Or, in your case, the shuffling of papers. Writing with pen to paper helped your scattered brain remember things better, though you couldn't help but feel largely out of touch for the archaic method of note-taking.

"Who decides what literary work is inherently American?" He asked to the class, "Where's the line? When the artist of color is placed into a box as an 'other' or designated as American with an asterisk, are publications and critics implying that the author is not truly American?

"After all," he said, removing his glasses to wipe them, "the cultural zeitgeist is shaped by an amalgamation of many experiences. Is the story of an immigrant from Colombia 100 years ago any less American than the tale of a farmer from Oklahoma during the Great Depression? When we ask for tried and true stories of American Grit, whose stories are we reading?"

Sure, he said that experiences mattered. But, god, was he anal about the details. The newest revision of your work peeked from behind your notebook, scarred in red ink. When you received it back earlier that afternoon, you resisted the burning desire to throw it back at him and tell him to eat a dick. The first couple of times he shot your writing down, you could understand perfectly what he was looking for. This time, you were sure that you were following his advice down to the letter, and it still wasn't good enough for him.

He absentmindedly pushed his salt and pepper curls from his forehead and you wanted to flip a table.

Oscar paused his pacing in front of your desk as you scribbled your thoughts down. You chanced a glance at him to find him already looking over your notes.

"Huh," he had the audacity to smile at you and mutter softly, "Nice handwriting."

Your cheeks warmed at the praise of your neatly looping cursive. The eyes of your peers burned into your back.

He gently tapped your desk with his calloused knuckle and continued on with his lecture, as if his little comment was just a natural part of his daily performance. It was the first time in a while that you'd interacted with him in a way that didn't involve him explaining why your marked up thesis was shit. You could appreciate the compliment, even if it had nothing to do with the quality of the work you put blood, sweat, and tears into.

And now you were annoyed again.

You knew that Oscar wasn't surprised to find you standing outside of his office. A polite smile graced his lips, though something else flickered across his features that you vaguely recognized. You plastered your own polite smile on your face and waved your thick stack of paper at him.

"Explain, Oscar."

Without another word, he tiredly unlocked his office door and motioned for you to enter the roomy space. Numerous large bookcases lined the wall parallel to his desk, and stacks of newspapers and literary journals decorated the ottoman rug that spanned the width of his office. A small fridge and espresso machine sat on a desk in the corner. Above it was a fading portrait of a young looking South Asian man with neatly combed hair and a trimmed mustache, wearing a smart looking suit. The first time you saw it, you surmised by the aged clothing and studious expression that it was a portrait of the university’s very first professor of color, Benjamin Kapoor.

The office was nearly the size of your studio apartment. Perfect for the department head, you thought. The minute he shut the door behind him, he sighed and ran his hand down his face.

"Well, first of all, 'Hey Oscar, how are you?' I'm great. Thanks for asking," He sarcastically quipped. “Would you like some coffee? Maybe some tea, if you’re cutting back on your habit, again?”

"Small talk is redundant," you handed him your papers, "you know why I'm here."

He plopped down in the plush chair behind his desk, and you followed suit on the couch beside it. His chair creaked as he leaned back and thumbed through the pages, reading his own notes. You couldn't quite get a read on his perception, but he hummed in thought. After a couple of minutes he handed your work back to you and shrugged.

"In simple terms: it's mechanical. You’re holding back on putting emotion into your characters. Your protagonist's factory worker father and merchant marine brother don’t feel real. It's too matter-of-fact. Too cold."

You shook your head in frustration, "I don't understand. First, you tell me that my language is too flowery. Now you're saying it's too mechanical. Which is it? Pick a criticism, because now it just feels like you're pulling it out of your ass."

The words slipped out before you could catch them, and your eyes widened in surprise at the venom laced in your tone. But, to your surprise, Oscar just laughed.

"Look, find a middle ground. I don't know how else to state it any plainer than I already have."

You wondered if you'd get expelled for throwing his briefcase out the window.

"I'm glad you think your bias is funny."

His expression changed at the implication, and he stared at you in confusion.

"Bias? Jesus, is that what you think?"

The words you'd been holding in for the majority of the semester came spilling out of you.

"I feel like you don't really respect me as a writer," you crossed your arms, "You think I'm stupid. Or incompetent. But this right here," you motioned to the paper in your lap, "This is just ridiculous. It's nitpicking and tearing my work to shreds. Do you get something out of this? This story means a lot to me. It's the story of my family. Do you understand the level of research and reading it took to bring this work into fruition? With all due respect, it's fucking hard, Oscar. I'm doing the best I can."

He merely stared at you with furrowed brows, "With as long as my tenure has been—for as long as you’ve known me, you think I don't know this?" He stood up from his chair and sat on the edge of his desk in front of you, "You think this problem is unique to you? I aim to challenge all of my students."

You laughed humorlessly, "I've seen the notes you write on other people's stories. It's nowhere near the same level of harsh."

"To you, it may not be."

"I still don't understand what you want from me. More details. Less details. More emotion. Less emotion. Descriptors, but not too descriptive. Make your characters realistic, but oh no, not too mundane. It's all bullshit--"

"It's missing the essence of you." He confessed, scratching his bearded chin, "Your story reads like something anyone could write. The only personal touches in your story--and if you notice, the only things I haven't edited much--are your letters and journal entries. They give a clear idea of how your characters interact with one another. And I think you add a little bit of yourself to them, outside of the narrative.

"Your voice is prevalent in everything you write. Unique and intuitive. Your work isn’t you, Bee. I miss...that."

There was a pregnant pause. Your stomach swooped at the slip of your old nickname, and you crossed your legs to stop the nervous fidgeting. He swallowed hard, and toyed with the watch on his wrist.

"I think..." you began, meeting his eyes for the first time, "I think I'm subconsciously trying to sound like you. Even though you piss me off."

He barked out a laugh, "I don't know if that's a compliment or a testament to how I can improve."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. He soldiered on.

"You're a brilliant writer. I just know you can do better," he drummed his fingers on his desk. Suddenly he grinned at you, "You've read my writing? You like my writing? And you're admitting it freely? And here I was thinking you hated me." Now it was your turn to furrow your brows in confusion. Catching your expression, he explained, "Every time I look at you, you either look bored, lost in your own thoughts, or like you want to murder me. And then there's the arguing--"

"I don't hate you, Oscar. You just exhaust me." You said, standing up to meet him at eye level. "You'd argue with you, too. You can't always be the only sarcastic asshole in the room."

He looked at you with a mix of amusement and what you could only describe as relief. He leaned forward, letting out a deep breath he seemed to be holding the entire time. You were close enough to smell his favorite dark roast coffee and his signature cologne--something bold, but warm and comfy. Kind of like him.

"Did you have any other questions? About the thesis or...something? You know you can ask me anything." he crossed his arms over his chest. Was he flexing? The thought tickled you.

"Just one. But not about the thesis." You asked, gently, taking a step towards him, "You said every time you look at me, I look pensive. How often do you look at me?"

He eyed you slowly. Fire danced behind his gaze, despite his calm demeanor. It reminded you of the look on his face when he read a moving sonnet or recited romantic prose. The sight of him looking at you like his favorite work of art made your belly warm. After a beat of silence that dragged on for ages, he licked his lips and shook his head, finally tearing his eyes away from you. He murmured, "More often than I should." Then he sighed, "We shouldn't be having this conversation. I'm not--it's..."

"No you're right," you began, feeling the rush of bravery trickling from your quickly beating heart, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You could never do that. It's just not professional--"

"It's SUPER unprofessional actually--"

"--you could lose your grant and--"

"--you JUST finalized the divorce--"

"--implicit bias and difficulty being objective--"

"--it's just a passing thought."

He pushed away from the desk, taking a step closer to you, and grabbed a fistful of his hair.

"Maybe..." he cleared his throat, "you might want to...go."

You nodded, "I should leave."

"I could walk you out."

Neither of you made another move and his fingers tapped on his thigh. You watched his eyes travel from your face and down your body, as if he could see right through your clothes.

"Are you?"

He was so close that you could count every single strand of hair in his thick, coarse beard.

"Am I...?" He questioned, eyes dropping to your lips.

"Going to walk me out?" You finished. You could see him weighing his options. He glanced at the door, then back at you.

“I…it’s—” He sighed again, “I miss you, Bee.”

You wanted to get mad and tell him that he wasn’t allowed to do this. You felt stupid for being so easily baited by a smile and sharp wit. Instead of being smart and telling him to fuck off, you shook your head.

“You miss feeling wanted,” you corrected, “You don’t miss me.”

“You don’t know how wrong that is. Do you know how many times I’ve gone out with other women and found myself thinking ‘I wonder what Bee’s doing right now. Is she with someone else? Am I making a mistake?’” He removed a carton of cigarettes from his pocket and tossed it on the desk, “I thought I was making a good choice. Clearly, that wasn’t the case.”

“A good choice for who, exactly?” You asked, eyeing him with skepticism.

“For both of us. For you.”

You could admit that hooking up with him while he was in the process of a divorce was messy. For the brief 3 months you were together over the summer, you couldn’t stop being doubtful. It blurred the lines of whether he was fucking his sadness away or if he truly had feelings for you. You felt your fingers twitch as if they wanted to reach out and grab him. Instead, you shoved your traitorous hand into your back pocket. You were petty enough to not be the first one to make a move.

“The thing is, Oscar, I’m a grown woman and I don’t need you to make decisions for me.” You countered, “I might be younger, sure, but I’m not a kid.”

“I know.” He agreed, quietly.

“You said you wanted time to process things—”

“33 Weeks,” he said, suddenly, “An arduous, sunless, painful 33 weeks without you. I never fully understood the pain of missing you until I was forced to see you and not touch you. Every time you speak or look at me or challenge me, I feel even more stupid for letting you go.”

You couldn’t help yourself, “You are stupid.”

You cracked a smile at him and he smiled back, eyes crinkling at the corners behind his frames. He reached out and caressed your face, tracing a calloused thumb along your cheek and resting his forehead against yours.

“Goddamn you’re beautiful,” he groaned, slowly closing his eyes. You could trace every wrinkle, freckle, and scar with a finger from memory, if you wanted to. The spearmint gum he favored between smoke breaks tickled your nose, and his hand slipped down to the point where your throat met your clavicle.

You were keenly aware that your pulse was thrumming rapidly under his pen-calloused fingers, and that your chest rose and fell in quick succession. You closed the space between you, pulling him in for a deep kiss. The traitorous hand that freed itself from the confines of your pocket curled into his sweater. Oscar's arm snaked around your waist and the hand near your throat tightened, pulling a low, strained moan out of you. He mockingly mimicked your moan and pulled away to kiss along your jaw.

"You need to be a little quiet, Bee," he nipped at your skin and you smiled, "you don't want the others to hear, do you?"

You opened your eyes to meet his gaze, and you knew he could see the devilish glint dancing in them.

"I mean, I can try."

When you stretched out over his tidy mahogany desk and he pushed your legs apart, hiking your skirt over your ass, you couldn't help the self-satisfied grin that pulled at your lips. You wanted this for so long. You craved it. None of the toys in your nightstand could compare to the feeling of his strong hands on your thighs and the feel of his tongue teasing you open.

"Oh my god...look at you," he sighed, burying his face deep between your legs. You giggled, running your fingers through his curls to grab a handful and pulling a soft groan from his lips. Your hips twitched when he pressed a firm thumb against the front of your panties. The way his breath hitched left a deeper feeling of longing that seemed alien to you. And as he peeled the fabric to the side and spread you open to him, his free hand gripped your thigh greedily and hiked your leg up with your knee to your chest.

You felt your heart thrumming in your ears with anticipation and the major thrill of someone potentially walking in on you with his head between your legs. He wrapped his lips around you, swirling his tongue in small quick circles in that same way you loved and could never quite get used to. Your mouth fell open as the haze of ecstacy started to cloud any thoughts that weren't about him.

"I needed you." You whispered, gently scratching his scalp, "I needed you so bad."

He hummed, moaning against you and tickling your inner thighs with the soft hair of his beard. You peered down at him to watch him devour you like a starving man's first meal. He'd taken his glasses off, and you could see the way his lashes fluttered in complete bliss as he dipped his tongue into you. He looked up at you and locked eyes just as a shrill moan threatened to burst from your lips. You quickly covered your mouth and you felt him smile at you. He pulled away, replacing his mouth with his thick fingers. With each flick of the hand he watched you arch your back off his desk and scramble to grab onto something...anything to ground you.

He sharply pulled you closer to the edge of the desk and hoisted your other knee up to your chest, leaving you completely exposed to him and anyone that could walk in the room. He teased you with the tip of his tongue, watching you squirm impatiently before he curled his tongue against your clit.

He'd been dreaming of seeing you like this. But even his dreams couldn't live up to the reality of how sweet you tasted and the look of nirvana on your face. He He could hear the sharp intake of breath and the small whimpers you earnestly tried to swallow down. He wanted to tell you to be as loud as you wanted. Fuck the rules and anyone who heard. But that'd be stupid.

And you didn't deserve stupid.

He found that perfect sensitive spot that made you smack the desk with your hand and try to wriggle away from his mouth, but he pulled you closer.

"Mm-mm, no running." He mumbled nipping your thigh. He returned his lips to you, sucking you slowly between his lips. Your chest heaved, and you scrambled to figure out what to do with your hands. When you reached down to press his face harder between your thighs, he let himself release a low, muffled groan. He needed you so fucking badly. He wanted to stretch this out for as long as he could, but he knew that was impossible.

He wanted to make the most out of the limited time he had with you.

He pulled his mouth away and dipped his fingers into you, coaxing you closer to the edge. And when he leaned forward to kiss you, you pulled him in hungrily, wrapping your thighs around his hips and undoing his belt with quick fingers. He pulled away to look you over once again: your hair was a mess, your lips were swollen, your eyes were glazed, and you looked fucking beautiful. You reached up to stroke his cheek.

"What?" You asked, scrunching your nose at him.

"Are you sure?"

"About?"

His hand remained splayed on your lower stomach and your fingers were hooked in the waistband of his boxers. You sat up and he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours.

Oscar murmured, "Bee, if we do this, I'm not going back to keeping my distance. I'm going to fuck you in every corner of this office. I'm going to want you again," He kissed you, "and again," another kiss, "and again."

You absentmindedly brushed your fingers against his lower stomach and traced the outline of his dick through his boxers. "And on the weekends?"

You dipped your hand behind his waistband, and pulled it down to wrap your hand around him. He hissed sharply, shutting his eyes.

"Shit, honey..." he groaned. "I'm all yours."

You slowly stroked him, watching him melt under your touch. For a moment you could see the younger version of him, just as handsome but not nearly as refined as he liked to present himself in public. His salt and pepper curls were no longer neatly styled and you saw the hint of flush peeking out from under his olive skin. His perfect mouth fell open as you traced the swollen head of him with your thumb.

When you finally took a breath and felt him guide himself into you, that familiar flutter in your lower stomach made you bite your lower lip. A deep shudder wracked both of your bodies like your first hit of a long abandoned drug. He kept the pace slow and steady, focusing on the way you felt around him and trying to keep it to memory like he'd never experience it again.

You pulled him down for another deep kiss, wanting a connection with him in every way possible. You noticed the brief way his strokes faltered, and the way he grabbed your thighs to pull them around his hips to push deeper into you and at just the right angle to make you cry out.

"Right there," you pleaded, arching your hips up to angle him deeper, "God, rightthere rightthere rightthere."

He grunted, dropping his head onto your shoulder as he picked up the rhythm of his hips. "You're perfect for me. You're fucking perfect, angel. I'm never letting you go again."

You tried to form coherent thoughts and words, but everything turned to a sludge of gibberish on your tongue.

You hated the way that he seemed to know you like a familiar map. It was so easy to drown in him. When you reached down to touch yourself, he grabbed your hand and pinned it to the desk, interlacing your fingers. He dipped his free hand between you, choosing to tease your clit with his thumb while he picked up the pace of his strokes.

"Did you miss this, Bee?" He murmured under his breath.

You nodded, allowing your eyes to drift closed.

"No, baby, look at me." He commanded.

You did as you were told, looking deep into his gorgeous dark eyes that seemed to read you from the inside out.

"Did you miss me?"

"I missed this so much." you moaned, feeling the warmth building in your lower tummy.

He thrust into you sharply and a shrill cry rang out that you were sure echoed into the hallway. You nearly slammed your head into the desk with the force that your body jolted. The sensitivity was almost overwhelming and when you tried to scoot away again, he gave you another smack on the thigh.

"What did I say about running?" He let go of your hand to pull your thighs tighter around him as he drove into you with renewed vigor. His jaw clenched as he focused on your building pleasure. Thumb returned to your clit. Your mouth dropped open, but nothing came out but a strangled gasp. His thumb sped up between your thighs and you let out a string of slurred words as your hips shook.

"Fuck, I love you so much, oh God, oh God. I fucking love you."

"This is yours, now. It's all yours. Nobody else's." He breathlessly whispered against your cheek.

You reached down to grab his hand almost begging him for reprieve that you knew he wouldn't give you. You tightened around him and he sucked air sharply between his teeth, which only gave him more determination to push you over the edge. You pulled him down into a kiss just as the wave of pleasure crashed over you and you drowned your cry into his mouth. His strokes grew sloppy and erratic as you rolled your hips against him with equal force.

"Come on baby," you cooed to him, curling your fingers into his hair and giving it a sharp tug. He buried his head into your shoulder and let out a low, deep grunt as he came. You felt him press small kisses along your neck, trailing them up your chin and to your lips. After taking a minute to get his bearings, he reluctantly pulled out with a low shuddering breath. He kissed you again, and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders enjoying the feeling of his hands on you.

After some brief, very gentle aftercare, you helped each other get redressed, sharing kisses and touches along the way.

"So..." he leaned up against his desk, cleaning off his glasses to put them back on, "am I seeing you tomorrow?"

You gave him a slow, deep kiss and his hands traveled to your ass, "If I'm up all night revising with your stupid edits, we'll see how I feel. No guarantees, though."

#oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac smut #oscar issac fic #oscar isaac #jaelle writes

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ebullient-beauty · 2 years

Text

- - - fuck you dumber - - -

aged up mike wheeler x bimbo cheerleader reader warnings for the series: agedup!mike wheeler, smut, swearing, nsfw warnings for the preview: agedup!mike wheeler, swearing, references of sexual actions, nsfw

preview: Mike Wheeler, aka Wheeler Boy, was elated. He had recently gotten to be Dungeon Master during a Hellfire meeting, he was doing good in school, but best of all, he had a fucking hot girlfriend. You were one of the most popular girls at Hawkins High, being part of the cheer team helped with that, but that wasn't why. It was because you were… sexy and you fucking knew it. So you dressed like it too. Short skirts, deep V-necks, almost everything being some shade of pink, and every once in a while you wore that dress that was so small you had to wear shorts underneath.

But Mike loved it. He loved seeing you feel at home in the spotlight, he loved overhearing you talk about him to your cheerleader friends, he loved when you called him over to the popular people table, "Wheeler Boy! Get over here!", and loved when he got to sit next to you while you made it obvious to the jocks sitting near that you were off limits. But what he loved a whole lot was that fact that sometimes (most of the time, actually) you would tease him for the full school day and then get him off or let him fuck you the second you guys went home.

You only ever teased Mike for a day, knowing how he got when unfulfilled, but you had decided 3 days ago that you would try to torture him for as long as possible so he would fuck you the way you really wanted. He had only ever done you like that one time before, when he went a full 2 weeks without seeing you because he was in California. When he got back- let's just say you could not walk correctly for a full day. But he had left you craving for it, for that feeling where you knew he held absolutely nothing back from you.

You had your wonderful idea planned to the T and written in your notebook, and tomorrow was the day you would put it into action. You knew to play your cards right, you couldn't make it obvious that you were teasing him relentlessly. So the plan was as follows:

Thursday- Day One: Excuse of not meeting with him after school is that I have cheer practice and after family dinner, then off to bed.

Friday- Day Two: Excuse of not meeting with him after school is that he has Hellfire and by the time it's over, I'm "too tired".

Saturday & Sunday- Days 3 & 4: I'm out of town with my parents for a family gathering at Aunt Rosie's house.

Monday- Day 5: Excuse is that I have cheer practice and after I'm going to Cathy's house to study and sleep over.

Tuesday- Day 6: Basketball game that I'm required to attend, because cheerleader, duh and we leave during last period.

Wednesday- Day 7: Cheer meet after school and then all the girls and I are having a sleepover party at Nicole's house

Thursday- Day 8: Plan for Armageddon Wheeler Boy

And that was all you had. After a week of torturing your poor boyfriend, you didn't know whether it could go on past that. You sighed in exhilaration, opening the drawer on your nightstand, and slipping in the journal before shutting it closed. As you laid in bed, all you could think was that this is gonna be fun.

part 1 [unavailable atm] part 2 [unavailable atm] part 3 [unavailable atm] part 4 [unavailable atm] part 5 [unavailable atm] part 6 [unavailable atm] part 7 [unavailable atm] part 8 [unavailable atm]

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maidragoste · 1 year

Text

Mistake

Age up!Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader (Daeron's twin sister)

Summary: Your encounter with Jacaerys has consequences and now you are pregnant with his bastard in the middle of the war.

Part two of “I miss you”

A/N: Honestly Jacaerys doesn't appear in this but I promise he will in the next part. The next part will probably be the last and I'll try not to take as long as it takes to post this one (I had most of these written months ago but every time I had to continue writing it made me sad for Reader). Finally, I hope you like it 🥰🥰💞💞

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

At first, you didn't find it strange when your moon blood didn't come. The truth has never been regular. It had happened to you before that it didn't come for a month and the other it did, that's why you didn't worry. But when another moon passed and your sheets were still clean, you began to fear that you were pregnant. Your fears were confirmed when you started having nausea and vomiting in the mornings. You didn't even have time to come up with a plan because your servants went to tell your mother about your condition and she soon appeared in your chambers with the maester.

"Princess, you are pregnant" the maestre confirmed what you already knew.

"Is there no chance of getting rid of the child?" Alicent asked, taking you by surprise.

"Mother!" you screamed in horror and with tears in your eyes. You knew your mother would be furious but it never occurred to you that she would force you to get rid of the baby.

"I'm afraid, your grace, that if we give her the moon tea there is a chance that the princess will not be able to have children in the future."

"Thank you, master. You may retire,” Alicent said and the man gave you a pitying look before leaving.

Once they were alone, you got on your knees and took your mother's hands "Sorry, mother" you apologized through tears, it hurt to see the disappointment on her face, she had never looked at you like that before "Sorry. Sorry, sorry ”you repeated trembling and kissed her hands. You expected some comfort, a caress on the cheek, or even a touch on the hair but nothing. She just kept looking at you. You would have always been the apple of her eye along with Helaena but now you were trouble.

You apologized for letting her down, and for failing her and your brother. You knew that you were an important piece in the war, you were a dragon rider and with your hand, they could win the support of some important house but now no one would marry you while you were pregnant nor could you go to fight in your condition. You apologized because you knew that if you could go back in time you would sleep with Jacaerys again, you were selfish, you loved him.

"Mother, please say something" you begged, unable to bear her silence anymore.

Alicent released her grip and moved away from you. You bit your lip to keep from letting out a sob. You weren't used to cold treatment from your mother. But for now, it would be the only thing you would receive. For a moment you thought about your father, how he would react if he were alive, he would probably be furious too but you thought that the moment he saw you cry he would take you in his arms and tell you that everything would be fine. He would surely have broken Baela and Jacaerys' engagement so that Jace would marry you.

"You will stay in your chambers until further notice" your mother informed you, taking you out of your imagination, and she left your chambers without bothering to look at you again.

Once you were alone you burst into tears and hugged yourself. You didn't know how long you had been crying, you felt that your throat was burning and your knees were starting to hurt so you should get up or the pain would be but you didn't care. You just wanted someone by your side, you didn't want to be alone, so when you heard the door open you couldn't help but look hopeful. They were your brothers. But you felt your heart drop at the sight of Aemond. In his eye, there was nothing but fury.

"He forced you? Did he force himself on you?" asked the prince taking you by the jaw. You shook your head while the tears came out non-stop from your eyes "Tell me!" you sobbed as he increased his strength.

"I slept with Jacaerys because I wanted to" you confessed between trembling and closing your eyes to avoid seeing your brother's face. You were scared, for the first time you had Aemond do something to you. He had never acted like this with you before, you always witnessed how another was the victim of his anger but this time you were the one who disappointed him.

"Aemond, let her go" you heard your older brother's voice "She's scared"

You felt like years passed until you felt Aemond loosen his grip on her "It's okay, sister" he kissed your forehead and stood up "The bastard will pay for bringing you this disgrace"

"Aemond, what will you do?" You asked scared and wanting to follow him but Aegon took you in his arms "Aemond!" you screamed with a broken voice when you saw him leave the room.

"Don't worry, sister" said the king while you cried and clung to him "Everything will be fine, I'm going to legitimize your son"

••••••

The following months were hell for you. You never left your room. Your family did not want anyone at court to know about your condition, much less for the news to reach the Blacks. So they kept you locked in your rooms, and the only company you had were the maids but they weren't great company because they barely entered your room just to feed you and also never spoke to you, they couldn't since none of them had a tongue. Your sanity hung by a thread, exactly on the maester's visits. He was the only person you could talk to, you knew that the old man felt sorry for you because sometimes he extended the visits just so that you could talk to someone. For a while Aegon had also come to visit you, he always consoled you and distracted you, he told you some story about his drunkenness or about some gossip that you had. It didn't matter how many times you asked him about what was happening with your family, the war and Jacaerys but he never answered you. You were afraid that your questions made him angry because one day he stopped showing up.

Sometimes you prayed that your baby would look like Jacaerys because you missed him so much and longed to see his eyes again. But other times you prayed to the gods that the baby would look like you, maybe if your child is born with your hair and Targaryen eyes then your family will forgive you and let you go. For that reason, you were anxious to give birth again but at the same time, you were afraid. You were afraid of doing this alone without Jacaerys, you were afraid that something would go wrong and you would never have had a chance to say goodbye to your lover. You were afraid of dying and leaving your child alone, you didn't know what your family would do with your baby, they could kill it and Jacaerys would never know that you two had a child.

Most nights you dreamed of Jacaerys and your son. You dreamed of an excited Jace choosing a dragon egg to put in front of her son's cradle. You dreamed of Jace singing to the baby to calm him down. You dreamed of him introducing Vermax to the baby. You dreamed of the first flight of the three together. You dreamed of Jace trying to teach his son how to say “kepa” and “muña” even though his High Valyrian is terrible. You wished more than anything that one of those dreams would come true one day. But after being locked up for months you didn't think it would ever happen. If you survive the birth, you would have to raise your child alone within the four walls of your chambers. That if your family allows you after all for them your baby is a mistake.

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oletus-manors-log · 6 months

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OBSERVER'S NOTE:

" Happy Halloween! To commemorate today's occasion, I wrote something that is associated with the hide and seek mode. Although it was written months ago (as courtesy of my mutuals and how scared they got. Love you, Sam /p), I kept this hidden till today to post it.

This one doesn't involve any particular x reader shenanigans, but this is made in someone's perspective. I wanted to try and write this in her perspective, so I hope I brought her justice. Hope you guys enjoy it, because I have college haunting me this Halloween, haha! "

The Dentist's Swamp

No survivor has spoke of the horrors of Sacred Heart Hospital. For years, that is what she had understood-- or, at least, from her memories alone.

The abandoned hospital was not shrouded in fog like now, nor was it storming every time she came to visit. It was not teeming with danger, with walls showing signs of age- at least, from her memory alone.

No, it was different. Far, far more different than she could ever remember… Or imagine, for that matter.

Stepping afoot in the map now shrouded in darkness, the young journalist couldn't help but shiver. This was not like what she saw in the academy, and especially in her stay with others that resembled her. To her, this was different, and perhaps… Much worse than the last time she came here.

She has heard of rumors floating about, but the most common was the individual people called the 'dentist'.

—This is where the dentist used to reside in. Children go missing when they go to Sacred Heart.

—Really? How terrifying…

Indeed! After all, the only thing that is left here—

"—are children's teeth…" the journalist whispered, her legs moving to head inside the building. The lightning clapped in the sky as a bellowing sound echoed, making her jump.

She was never a fan of stormy nights. It reminded her of something so… Unsightly in her childhood. Something she could never forget, even in her time in the academy.

Step after step, she held the camera closer to her chest. All she needed to do was to get evidence, and then she can leave. That was all there is to it, right?

… So why does she feel her heart race like it'd pop out of her chest?

Clambering up the staircase, she noticed the various words written on the wall.

Get out of here!

The dentist lurks in his swamp!

Where is the truth?

The truth… How bitter.

Arriving inside the operating room, the blonde woman noticed something… Odd. From the sight of the body, it was gone— no sight of it remained. It wasn't surprising for her, but the thing that caught her eye was the jars around the place.

Some were broken as the lid rolled up to her boots, the contents spilling on some that were tipped over in the table. Her eyes widened when she saw what it was.

Teeth.

Children teeth.

Some jars were not broken, but she could see how some of the teeth were rotten. Like it mutilated in the skulls of the dentist's 'patients'.

She could vaguely hear the thunder roar outside, and the soft clink clink of the teeth that met glass shards. Some even jumped at her, making her gasp and shuffle back.

In her panic, she had hit the worn cabinet behind her, making it sway. She turned to see what she had bumped into, stiffening up as she saw what it was.

Then, she sprinted away from the scene.

She could hear the faint shattering of glass, the jars meeting its demise in the dirty ground of Sacred Heart. One by one, the shattering grew more louder than the last, echoing and haunting the journalist to no end.

And then, she hears it.

The eerie soft chimes of the children giggling… And the soft, almost inaudible calling of a man.

She could hear her heart palpating and beating like a drum, making her grow deaf. With paranoia seizing her, all she could think was to flee.

And flee she did.

She turned to leave the hospital, her footsteps growing loud in her haste. She could hardly remember if she had her camera with her, but she didn't care for it anymore.

For she could hear the children scream. Scream for her to leave.

To never be caught by the dentist.

Ah, in her haste to leave the place, she had simply forgot one such clue. Monsters roamed in the hunting grounds of Sacred Heart, not just the famed dentist.

… Which proved to be her mistake.

The Sacred Heart Hospital was a dreadful hunting ground for those that survived, much like the other maps she's seen and remembered. In her stay of Oletus, she has seen many of them fall in this place… And the eerie sounds that come with it.

The eerie sounds are always around. It always was.

Alas, as she reached the exit, she could see the gates close shut—

—Which caused the hands to reach out and grab her from behind.

She let out a muffled cry as she was dragged into the mist, covering the blood curdling screams that came right after.

…

As the mist died down, the exit gates open once more, and what was left in the wake of the 'journalist' was a camera.

… And a doll of Orpheus, marking the day yet another naughty child was 'caught'.

#✎ . . . 「 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙅𝙊𝙐𝙍𝙉𝘼𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏 」 ➠ ❝ Alice DeRoss ❞#✎ . . . 「 𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙂𝙊𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙉 𝘿𝙍𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙎 」 ➠ ❝ drabbles ❞#identity v #identity v writing #idv #identity v survivor #identity v x you #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identityv x reader #idv x you #identityv x you #identityv journalist #identity v journalist #identityv alice deross #identity v alice deross #idv journalist #idv alice deross

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thatbigbisexual29 · 10 months

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We’ve Had Better Days (Hades)

Ok, so! This is a fic I had written a while ago when I bought the Hades game. I fell in love with it and I loved the parts with Achilles and Zagreus because I loved the story of Patroclus and Achilles. But this is about Achilles and Zagreus when Zag was in his youth. Lots of angst at first but it turns into squishy fluff :) Also I know the Hades tickle community is not many, but imma post this anyways so enjoy my lovelies!

Achilles wasn’t… the best when it came to kids. When he was alive he avoided them as much as he could. They were loud, unpredictable, and had no respect for personal boundaries. He remembered when he was alive he would frequently get swarmed by a group of kids that would want to play with him, and it’s a wonder how he got out of those situations every single time. But now, in the Underworld, there was only one troublesome child to deal with. Zagreus, the Prince of Hell. And honestly, calling him troublesome was an absolute lie. The boy did what he was told, followed orders, and was very polite. The only annoyance he caused was when he was curious which would be followed by heaps of, what seemed like never ending questions. Achilles didn’t mind all that much though. He’d preferred him and of his questions rather than any snotty nosed brat on the surface.

Today during training though, he was quiet. It was something to take note of. Zagreus couldn't stand being quiet. It wasn’t in his nature. Achilles observed him from the side of the courtyard with his spear in hand, watching closely as Zagreus practiced with his trusty blade, Stygius. He was disconnected but focused at the same time. Something’s happened, Achilles thought to himself.

“Remember to keep your feet apart, young prince! And try not to move your weight when you swing with the blade or else it’ll fly out your hands!” the forgotten hero called from the side. Normally Zagreus would respond with a “Understood sir!” or “Like this sir?” But today, he grumbled lowly to himself as his practice shade poofed into smoke. It came as a shock to Achilles, but then he remembered how testy pre-teens could be. He knew how much venomous fire he spat from his mouth when he was Zagreus’ age. And yet their training session had just begun. It’s going to be a rough day… Achilles let out a small sigh.

The training went on for another hour. Zagreus was slightly bruised with a few cuts here and there, sweating and panting profusely. Achilles had offered multiple times for him to take a break, but the young god refused. It was starting to look all too familiar to Achilles. When he would go hours on end with endless training, even stretching his sessions into the darkest of nights. He was battle hungry and wanted to prove himself, just like the prince was now. A rageful yell escaped Zagreus’ lips as he vanquished another shade, ripping Achilles from his memories. The young god whipped his head around to meet his mentor’s eyes, a malicious expression on his face.

“Achilles. Send me another,” Zagreus growled. Achilles huffed from his nose and shook his head, shocking the young prince.

“No? What do you mean no? Isn’t it your job to train me? Send me another!” he demanded. Achilles forcefully tapped the stone floor with the end of his spear, standing his ground.

“You’ve done enough training for now. Take a break and we’ll get back to it.” the soldier answered calmly.

“You said that in war, there are no breaks! So I’m not taking them! I’m preparing myself like father said I should! I’m only following his orders! Send another shade, Achilles!” Zagreus barked the order at him, marching up face to face with his mentor. Damn it, so that’s what this is about, Achilles thought as he looked into the furious eyes of the young god before him.

“Indeed, I did say that, lad. But overworking yourself will just lead to more pain. You’re taking a break.”

“You can’t make me!” Zagreus fired back as he stomped to the middle of the courtyard.

“You don’t need to prove anything to me…” Achilles started slowly as he began to approach. Zagreus turned around and pointed his sword at the forgotten hero. “Maybe not to you, Achilles, but I need to prove myself to him! I have to show him I’m not worthless!”

“You aren't worthless, Zagreus, and you’d better think twice before pointing that blade at me! You don’t need to prove anything yet, you’re still a child,” Achilles argued. Seeing Zagreus act this way, in such a hateful manner to think it would please his father, it’s as if a bear mauled Achilles’ heart to pieces.

“What do you know?! You’re not his son! He likes you! BUT HE DOESN’T LIKE ME!” Zagreus threw Stygius to the ground in his fit of anger. It slid and clattered away as a hush came over the courtyard. The Prince’s short, angry panting turned into stressed, sorrowful breaths as he fought to hold back a sob.

“Why doesn’t he like me…?” The dam broke as a whimpering sob emerged from his chest, tears streaming down his face. Achilles dropped his spear and wrapped his arms around his boy, enveloping him in a large, comforting hug.

“It’s alright, lad, it’s alright. I’m here. I’m here for you. Just let it out,” Achilles coaxed softly into his ear. Zagreus hugged back and although it was muffled by the warrior’s chest, his wails were loud and full of sorrow. Gods how Achilles hated that sound. It even brought tears to his own eyes which he fought down to keep his composure. He hated this. He hated how he had to soothe Zagreus from his own father’s verbal assaults. Anger bubbled in his chest. If he could, he would fight the brute that did this to his prince in a bloody battle that ended in a permanent death. Zagreus screamed and cried so hard that his face was red and he had to fight through hiccupping gasps for air.

“Easy, prince, easy. Shh shh shh. It’s ok. Calm down. Take deep breaths. Here, do like me.” Achilles instructed, rubbing his hand across the boy’s back to soothe him. He took a deep breath in, then a deep breath out. Zagreus, through shaky breaths, followed his lead and eventually the two were breathing in tandem. With an affirmation from Achilles, the two walked towards the glass case and sat before it, with Zagreus leaning onto his mentor’s shoulder and burying his head into his neck. Achilles wrapped his arm around the boy, keeping him close to his side.

“I must be honest, lad. There’s nothing I can say truthfully that will ease your mind…” the warrior said in defeat, his heart crushed when he saw more tears spring from the young god’s eyes. “Your father is not easy to understand. And I hate the things he says to you, honest. If I still had blood, it would be boiling. I would fight him if it meant you never cried again.” Zagreus looked up at his mentor, the biggest tear-filled eyes looking for solidarity. Achilles only held him closer and pressed his nose to the boy’s hair. The soldier closed his eyes and gave a kiss to his head in a way to tell the prince that he cared for him. He pulled away and brushed his mop of spiked hair from his forehead, using his thumb to wipe away the tears tracks that clung to his cheeks. Achilles cleared his throat to fight off the wet emotion that would have seeped into his words.

“Now, let’s take a break. And, if you want, I’ll have the head chef make you your favorite. How does that sound?” Achilles promised, smiling wide when he saw the hopeful look in Zagreus’ eyes.

“You mean it…?” he asked with a lump still in his chest. Achilles chuckled and nodded, slightly shaking the boy.

“Of course I mean it, lad! Anything to make you happy again. Let’s see, a chicken gyro with fries, right? I’m right, aren’t I?” the soldier grinned as a small smile crawled onto Zagreus’ face.

“Yes…” he muttered, turning his face away from his mentor.

“You know better than to turn your back on me, young prince. I see that smile!” Achilles teased as he pulled the boy closer, but that only resulted in Zagreus attempting to lean further away.

“Noho…! I don’t wanna smile…!” Zagreus whined with giggles threatening his voice.

“Alright, smiling’s off the table then. What about laughing?” Achilles offered, snaking his hand down and squeezing Zagreus’ side. The young god squealed and laughed, grabbing his mentor’s hand but not moving it.

“Nohohoho! I dohohon’t wanna lahahahahaugh eheeheeheeheeither!” Zagreus curled his side in an attempt to escape Achilles’ tickly fingers, but he only sealed his fate as the soldier pressed his lips against his neck and blew a torturously big and wet raspberry. Zagreus shouted and his laugh went silent momentarily before it was rocketing out his mouth at a high speed. Achilles began to laugh as well as he playfully tickled the boy silly. Zagreus’ laugh was so infectious and goofy that practically anyone’s mood would brighten after hearing it. It certainly worked on Achilles.

“Sorry lad, but you need to pick one! Smiling or laughing, one or the other! Now pick before I call in Nyx to help me tickle you!” Achilles threatened, playfulness clear in his voice. He forgot how much fun it was to play with another person. The warrior took Zagreus’ wrist and lifted it above his head, scribbling his digits into the pit. Zagreus arched his back and failed to grab the attacking hand, scream-laughing his mentor’s name

“AHAHAHACHIHIHIHIHILLEHEHEHEHEHEHES!” Zagreus cried out with tears of mirth falling down his cheeks. All of a sudden, Achilles was shot back to a memory of his life. A position similar to this, but a shirtless man with cocoa colored skin and amber eyes, a laugh as rich as the taste of a pomegranate, writhed before him in his bed. He yelled his name too. His name was…

Zagreus finally slipped his hand from Achilles’ grasp and shot his arm down, holding a hand in his armpit and panting happily as his mentor stopped his assault. Achilles shook the memory from his head and smiled softly at the young god next to him. He reached his hand out to wipe Zagreus’ tears away once more, but the giddy boy squealed and rolled away, hugging his torso tightly.

“Nohohoho!” he giggled. “Nohohohot agahahahahain! I want to smihihile! I’ll smile!” Achilles laughed and held up his hand as a sign of peace.

“Don’t worry, I’m done. Here,” he said as he leaned over and wiped his cheeks with his thumb.

His hand stayed on the boy’s face, his thumb softly caressing the prince below his eye. Zagreus slowly calmed down, his giggles dying out into a mirthful sigh. Then, his stomach growled. Loudly. Achilles chuckles as a blush came across Zagreus’ face.

“I guess that means it’s lunchtime. Stay here, lad. I’ll go get some food.” Achilles said. The booped the boy’s nose with his thumb and ruffled his hair, earning more giggles. The soldier left to the kitchen and returned with two plates that held two chicken gyros and a boatload of fries, as well as bandages for the prince’s cuts. As he approached though, he saw a figure the same size as Zagreus peeking at said prince from a pillar.

Achilles smiled fondly as he recognized the gray skin of Thanatos. He let out a sharp whistle because 1 he wanted to get Zagreus’ attention and 2 he wanted to let Thanatos know he saw him. The young god of death looked at him in shock, as if a giant exclamation mark appeared above his head, and disappeared. Achilles shook his head and chuckled. Young love, he thought. The mentor sat next to his student as they enjoyed their meal in comfortable silence with Achilles taking breaks to patch up the prince’s wounds. Then, Zagreus spoke up.

“You know what, Achilles, sir? I don’t need my father’s approval. I just need yours…” the prince muttered that last part as his cheeks were dusted with a pink blush. Achilles’ heart swelled and happy tears fell down his cheeks.

“Ah, you’re such a sap, lad,” he sniffled, wiping his tears away with his thumb. Zagreus looked bewildered.

“Wait, you can cry? Since when??” he asked. Achilles barked out a loud laugh and held his stomach, enjoying the freeing feeling in his chest. He wrapped his arm around Zagreus’ neck and pulled him close, ruffling his hair.

“You know what, lad? I’ll give you all the approval you desire.” Achilles said, giving another kiss to his head. They stayed like that for a while until Zagreus eventually fell asleep. The soldier plucked the young god from his spot as if he weighed nothing and set him in his bed. He pulled the blankets over him and pressed their foreheads together.

“Rest well, mighty Prince Zagreus. May you grow up strong-willed and resilient in this rough Underworld. I pledge allegiance to you as I have with Lord Hades. I will not abandon you in your time of need. Soldier’s honor.” As Achilles finished his vow, he softly pressed a kiss against Zagreus’ forehead. He stayed there a moment then left him. From now on, Zagreus was Achilles’ boy. No one could tell him otherwise.

#hades game #hades #zagreus hades #zagreus hades game #achilles #achilles hades #sfw tickle fic #hades game tickle fic #hades game tickle #zagreus #tickle fic

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nerdraging4point0 · 8 months

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My Own

So, I am reluctant-just a little-if I was completely you'd never see it, but back to the topic, I am a little reluctant to post this as it's not exactly a fic.

As some of you know I write as a hobby and have been talking about doing a story on the side. I finally came up with a plot base and a little bit of it written out already. I don't know where it is going yet, I don't know what I will do with it in the future, but I wanted to post it because I honestly think it's good and would appreciate feedback.

I am going to tag some of the people I both follow, read, and write for because as fellow writers and readers their opinion means something to me. Those that I am tagging are @synthetic-wasp-570 @throwingmetothelions @the-way-of-words @signs-of-ill-portent @kingdomof-omens @ladyveronikawrites @transmutethegold

Now remember, all of your feedback-regardless of if I tagged you or not is important, I only tagged a few of the blogs I knew off the top of my head.

The following is my own idea, my own creation of characters, and I would appreciate it that no one use them in anyway. Thank you. Without further ado, I give to you....this.

The air was clouded and heavy.

The various smells of weed, sweat, booze, and sex wafting around was enough to assault anyone's senses. Lennox leaned over the balcony of the lounge his brother Lux's club Luxuria was a popular choice tonight, as it should be, no club could compare to it-after all Lennox was co-owner, nothing he ever did was subpar.

Lennox's forearms leaned on the metal railing, steel blue eyes scanning the dance floor below. Bodies swayed to the music, their forms nothing but silhouettes under the violet neon lights. He could feel the pulse of every being in the room, their blood thrumming hard and loud, the sound carrying over the bass from the speakers.

"It's so alive, isn't it?" Lux came to greet his brother with a slap on the back, the open hand making contact between Lennox's shoulder blades. Lennox turned to see his own face, of sorts, looking back at him. Sapphire blue eyes standing out against the obsidian color of his sclera, pointed nose and clean-shaven round jaw being some of the similarities they shared. Short curly horns protruding from either temple on his head, clean cut dark black hair effortlessly combed back-Lennox had the thought that he should cut his after seeing his brother, but instead opted to keep his own level with his shoulders.

Lux wore his usual two-piece suit, slacks and a jacket only, always opting to be shirtless underneath to show off the intricate chest piece tattoo he'd been so proud of. One large white rose and two skulls emerging from an abyss of black, the tattoo reached his naval and cut into half of his throat, at the time Lennox thought it an extravagant purchase, but when you don't age, he supposed it was a decent choice; Lennox couldn't deny the art was good. His brother's wide pearly white smile on full display as he scanned his packed club.

"I am feeling it tonight, bro. I'm so charged." Lux took the railing in hand leaning back like he would pull the railing from the studs in the wall. His long black tail swished with a quick wag. Lennox's own tail stiffened up, the fur tip that reminded him of a lion swayed with the melody of the song playing, slow and seductive.

"It's a full moon. You always get this way." Lennox teased, not taking his eyes off the dancefloor. He was stalking, there must be something here to pass the time.

"So, what if I do." Lux jumped off his feet bouncing like a boxer pre-fight. "The pull of the moon goddess is strong; I'd fuck her into oblivion if I could."

"Didn't you do that three-hundred years ago?" Lennox felt the smirk pull up on his cheeks.

"It was just a quickie, at a party. And it wasn't the moon goddess herself, although she was close, just a witch who very closely resembled her." Lux corrected.

"So, all your tales are lies?"

Lux's pointed ears twitched but when he saw the small smile Lennox offered, he relaxed. Lennox turned back to the dance floor searching for what he knew they both needed. Down on the floor near the speaker was a girl in a short dress, her muscular thighs displayed for the whole club. She had ditched her heels, dancing on the floor barefoot. Her honey blond hair was all over the place, curtaining her face as she twisted and turned to the beat. She seemed like a fine specimen, a tight ass, chest was at least do-able, it certainly looked good in the dress. Maybe Lennox would make sure she kept it on tonight.

"What do you think of that one?" He jerked his chin in her direction, Lux turned following the gaze. "The one by the speakers." Lux's eyes caught sight of the girl, his wide grin turning from cheerful to sinister catching sight of his fangs in the neon's, a sparkle in those sapphire eyes.

"To share or to keep?" His tone dropping to a new low octave.

"Share first. You are not the only one charged."

Lux disappeared in a hurry to the dance floor, Lennox turned to head further into the lounge. He planted himself on the white couch kicking his feet up on the glass table in front of him, heeled boots making contact with the table caused his red wine to ripple in its glass. It would seem that a life like this would be tedious and repetitive after doing it for so many years, but the twins had only owned Luxuria for the last two years. Before that they'd been separate in their endeavors, Lennox owned various properties, had extensive hobbies, all successful. Lux had been a male escort for many years, it was a job he could be good at, charming, seductive and to the ladies he was handsome.

The horns, eyes and tail vanished among humans-the glamour of their demonic nature making their more obvious appendages invisible to the naked eye. But they couldn't hide from each other, witches, or their five younger brothers. Lennox was the eldest of the seven sons, being eldest meant a heavy burden and responsibility. But he didn't see it that way. He didn't care what his brothers did with themselves, they were their own people, he wasn't their babysitter.

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the-pen-pot · 8 months

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Fandom Creator's Self-Rec Game!

Choose five favourites from your own creations (and tell me why, if you like!), then pass on to at least five other people. I'd love to hear what you're proudest of.

Tagged by the wonderful @zaharya (whose post I have now bookmarked for later reading!)

Five of my own favourites, hmmmm. All right. Four of these are super long (all 200k+) , but the first one is relatively short for me, at somewhere around 15,000 words, for people looking for lighter reads! 😁 All are complete except Hiraeth.

Deliquesce (Merlin - Merthur - 15k)

The creatures stepped forward, long, narrow muzzles agape. The sun did not deter them, merely setting their subtle scales agleam. Thick saliva dripped from their jaws, smattering on the ground, yet they did not lunge forward to strike. Instead, they waited, their gaze unblinking as they stared. At first, Arthur thought they watched the knights, but when he shifted his stance, their eyes did not follow him, Instead, it was someone behind him who held them captivated. Merlin. ----- A chance encounter with a monster in the woods makes Arthur realise just how powerful Merlin's magic is, and the lengths he would go to in order to keep him safe.

This was meant to be a ficlet and got away from me. I particularly loved the ideas in this one, also BAMF Merlin ftw every single time! Written from Arthur's POV with some Merthury goodness towards the end.

Sorcerer's Bane (Merlin - Merthur - 264k)

Arthur gave Merlin his cloak thinking only of the warmth it would offer in a snowstorm. He never thought his manservant may be mistaken for him and snatched by bandits. Nor did he expect his dashing rescue of Merlin to turn his world so utterly on his head. Because the bandits hadn't kidnapped a prince. They'd snatched a sorcerer, and now captivity is the least of anyone's problems. A golden age awaits, but can they claim it together, or are they doomed to fail?

My first big Merthur fic, and the one where I healed from all the psychic damage done by the finale. This was my plotty, happily ever after fic, and I love it with all my heart!

Hiraeth (Merlin - Merthur - Work In Progress - 214k so far)

A hand grasped his arm, sending a brief thrill down Merlin's nerves as he was forced around to face the person behind him. Armour gleamed in the firelight: supple chainmail glinted, and the solid iron of a pauldron curved lovingly over one broad shoulder. The length of a sword blade separated them. The point hovered, steady and sure, over Merlin's heart, braced to run him through, but he did not care about any of that. He was too busy drinking in the sight of the man before him. He could never forget him, no matter how many centuries had passed. 'Arthur?' When Merlin ultimately fails in his destiny, the fading remnants of magic that linger in the modern world fling him not just back in time, but sideways as well. He ends up in a Camelot where all his friends are alive, well and aware of his magic. He ends up in a Camelot where his alternate self died almost a year ago. Can he, Arthur and their friends still forge the golden age he was once promised, or will grief and suspicion tear them apart?

Couldn't not mention my angsty, plotty wip. This fic is five billions miles outside my comfort zone. I'm currently in the "I have bitten off more than I can chew freak-out" stage of writing it and I'm still having so much fun. This fic owns my soul. Maybe one day it will release me, but I doubt it.

The Gilded Cage (Sherlock - Johnlock - 326K )

In a world where Omegas are the property of the elite Alphas, locked away and treasured by those wealthy enough to buy them, John never questioned his flatmate's secondary gender. Sherlock Holmes was an Alpha through-and through. Wasn't he? A chance discovery turns the world on its head, and John is left grappling to come to terms with Sherlock's past as events conspire to threaten their future.

The Johnlock omegaverse that nearly killed me, and the longest thing I have written (so far). I had such fun exploring potential gender dynamics and imagining how this world could be, while doing my best to keep the characters strong and true to themselves. An oldie, but according to most readers, a goody. Mixed POV

Riven Crown (The Hobbit - Bagginshield - 254k )

‘We may have won the battle, but I fear the war with winter is just beginning.’ The aftermath of war is no laughing matter. Those who died must be honoured, those who are wounded must be healed, and those who remain need food and clothing, peace and sanctuary. With Thorin's life hanging in the balance, it is up to Bilbo and the rest of the Company to rule the rag-tag remnants of Erebor in his place. Then there is the matter of the gold... Can Bilbo save both king and kingdom, or is Erebor destined to fall deeper into ruin?

My battle of the Five Armies fix it, political intrigue, everybody lives/nobody dies effort to make the the Peter Jackson movies hurt less. I think I succeeded. A much loved favourite, because my style feels like it's particularly suited to fantasy 😁

Tagging (with no pressure and apologies if any of you are not writers!) @the-reading-lemon @writingfanficsfan @cbk1000 @ajpendragon and @mojoflower (as well as anyone else who sees this and fancies it!

#Merthur #Johnlock #Bagginshield #Fic Ask

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rughydrangea · 2 months

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I made the decision a while ago for this to be a fandom space; I wanted it to be somewhere that I only posted about things that either made me happy or were completely meaningless. In my own life I spend a lot of time reading about the world and feeling great despair and trying to rouse myself out of my despair to do something (today was productive; I called and yelled at my senators' voicemails about Gaza and set up a recurring donation to Meduza), and I didn't want that to bleed over onto here.

I don't even know what I can say about Navalny. Last Thursday I flew out to Las Vegas to a professional conference--a large group of people who study Eastern Europe/Eurasia, a large number of whom are Russian citizens. On Friday morning, I woke up, read the news as I always do first thing, and felt something inside me break. Navalny rose to national prominence around the time I started getting serious about Russia, and he was a constant to me. In the past three years, again and again I was overwhelmed by his courage, and his ability to keep on joking and smiling and dictating memes to his social media people even as he suffered under such inhumane conditions. It turned out he meant even more to me than I thought, because the idea that he isn't here anymore, that he won't get to see the wonderful future Russia that he believed in and that I hope for with every fiber of my being hurts too much to bear.

In a way I was lucky that this happened when I was surrounded by Slavists, by Russians. On Friday afternoon there was a reading and Q&A by the opposition journalist Elena Kostyuchenko. The second question in the Q&A was asked by a middle aged man, who stood up and said, "Is there no hope left?" Her answer was quite beautiful ("There is still hope, but we must create it ourselves"), but what really stood out to me was the constant sound of sniffling, including from myself. Everyone was crying.

That evening there was a meeting (when that English word is used in Russian, it typically means a political gathering or protest). I live in a small town that is three hours away from the closest major city, so never have the opportunity to attend meetings. I went. It was in front of the Bellagio; in order to get there, I had to make my way through a luxury shopping mall and a large chunk of the hotel's casino. Once I was outside, there was a Lunar New Year celebration, and then finally, a small group of Russians, holding signs with slogans like Путин - убийца (Putin is a murderer) and the white-blue-white opposition flag. I had no sign and felt out of place, but settled in for a bit. Another woman from the conference got in an argument with a local Russian who was evidently anti-Putin (thus his presence) but somehow pro-Trump. It was a fittingly surreal experience for a surreal day.

On Saturday evening there was an impromptu poetry reading. People read out poems written in Navalny's honor, and other pieces of contemporary political writing, and shared their grief and fear for their relatives still in Russia. I have always been an easy crier, and though I was not alone in crying then, I felt like I was doing something wrong--nobody in my family is in danger from Putin's government. A woman afterwards said it was good that I cry so easily, it means I have a soft heart. I don't know that I think it's a good thing. There's a Hilary Mantel line: "You must thrive in spite of yourself; and so that you may do it, God takes out your heart of flesh, and gives you a heart of stone." I feel like I've been waiting for my heart of stone for 33 years, but it's nowhere to be seen. Maybe that's why I'm not exactly thriving.

I've always resisted communal grief. I thought I had permanently ruptured my relationship with my mother when I skipped my grandmother's memorial, but I couldn't face the prospect of sharing my grief with anyone, not even my family. It was too personal for that. But obviously I didn't know Navalny personally, and my grief for him is tied up in my grief for Russia, this country that I love so much and that I want to see free and happy and peaceful and kind the way I believe it can be. And Navalny did too, and never stopped fighting for it. Even when it killed him. Never for a second could I think of this as a personal loss. It's a loss we share. I feel lucky that I was able to feel that in a community.

(I felt this even more strongly when I briefly ventured into English-language commentary from the intellectuals of the internet (lol), who either didn't get why this was a big deal or didn't care because they know that Navalny was aligned with right-wing movements at the beginning of his career and apparently that is all that matters. I would never dream of defending his flirtation with Russian nationalism, but to act as though nothing that came after (even though was came after was the vast majority of his career) mattered, and to ignore the fact that he turned away from those nationalist movements is just complete bullshit and it makes me so angry. He practiced self-improvement, I thought that was a good thing. But no, I guess only saints are worthy of being mourned on Al Gore's internet.)

Today I woke up and watched Yulia Navalnaya's video. It's here, I highly recommend you watch it if you haven't already. I'm in awe of her strength, her anger, and her love. I made my advanced Russian students watch the whole video and translate it, I had my first years watch the ending with English subtitles. For my second years, I couldn't watch it again, but we listened to a song, "This will pass," by the group Pornofilmy. It's a protest song, and so fucking beautiful (it was my number one song on my Spotify unwrapped last year lol). "This will pass / what a black era has befallen us / but in the distance appears to me / the forgotten light of living hope / this will certainly pass!"

I just couldn't pretend to my students that everything was normal. As students of Russian language, too, they have to understand how important all of this is. Even though I started crying in every class, yikes. I know there's nothing more awkward than a crying teacher, but I still can't believe it. I still can't accept it. I am going to try to do what he encouraged: I won't give up, I won't do nothing. I will do my best to act, as I can, as an American (what I can do is different than if I were Russian, and my responsibilities are different, since my government commits its own evils).

Congrats if you made it to the end! The horrors of this world are too many to count, but as someone who truly loves Russia with all my soul, this fucking hurts.

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #real life #russia cannot be understood with the mind alone

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defyinggravity-elsa-rp · 1 year

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Frozen 2 Letter to Disney Animation

((Two years ago, I wrote a letter to Disney Animation about my grievances with Frozen 2, and they recently wrote me back. I will include the response in another post, but since people were asking me what I wrote in the letter, I thought I would post it here. Buckle up, because it is long and unhinged. It also gets really personal, so bear with me.))

Dear Staff of the Walt Disney Animation Studios,

My name is Laura, and I am 33 years old. You probably don’t get a lot of letters from people my age, but my love for Disney movies never wanes as I grow older. I’ve been a fan for my whole life and grew up with the Renaissance films of the 90s. As an adult, Disney is one of my favorite sources of fantasy and escapism, and I love how complex and dynamic so many of your characters are. I actually began this letter at the beginning of 2020, and have been working on it for the past year and a half because I wanted it to be just right. It also required digging into deep emotions that aren’t always easy for me to handle, so that caused delays as well. My original draft was also seven pages long, so I had to condense it.

The reason I am writing to you is to discuss Frozen II. I am a HUGE Frozen fan, and it is my favorite Disney film next to Hercules. Elsa is my very favorite character, for so many reasons. I love that she was a flawed human who had magical powers instead of a stereotypically perfect super-heroine. I also see a lot of myself in her, and have connected with her deeply since I first saw the movie. I share a lot of her traits (like being artistic and introverted), but I also saw a lot of parallels between her story and my own life. When I was a kid, I got picked on and bullied by other kids, so I spent a lot of time alone and isolated. I was very different from everyone, because I didn’t follow trends and was very enthusiastic about my likes. I was also very sensitive and wore my heart on my sleeve, which made it more fun for bullies to target me. Many adults, including my own mother, often told me to not express my feelings or interests so that I couldn't give my tormentors things to pick on me about, so I literally had my own "Conceal, don't feel" instructions. Of course, even when I tried, my emotions were always written on my face and my parents often helicoptered over me trying to help, just like in the flashbacks of Elsa trying to control her powers in her youth.

I also have anxiety and depression, which is a huge reason why the first film resonated with me. I’ve always felt like Elsa’s magical outbursts were much like my emotional outbursts— I try to hold my emotions in, but they build up more and more until I explode, and then I just beat myself up for it and every other mistake I’ve made. Just like Elsa, I have a tendency to be very hard on myself and overanalyze every single thing I do, think, and say. When Jen Lee confirmed on Twitter that "It was important to show anxiety and depression in Elsa," I felt so seen. An openly mentally ill character in a Disney movie? It was a HUGE deal and provided such amazing representation, which is sorely needed because there's so much stigma with mental health. People don't understand depression and anxiety and are so quick to judge, so to have Elsa have those conditions is so very, very important.

Over the past seven years, Elsa has been a huge source of comfort and joy for me, especially during the dark times. "Let it Go" has been a staple song on my life, reminding me to embrace my weirdness and not hold onto the past. "Monster" and "Dangerous to Dream" from the Broadway show are beautiful songs for when my mental illness acts up, because even though they're not the happiest songs, they're still therapeutic to sing. I've often referred to Elsa as my “comfort character," because she's been such a crutch for me for so long. Watching the film, reading fanfiction, drawing/looking at fan art, cosplaying Elsa, etc. was my favorite escape from the real world and from my own head during hard times.

When the sequel was announced, I was beyond ecstatic and had such a hard time waiting for so long, but I knew good stories take time. I ate up every book, comic, or short that was released over the years, because my appetite for Frozen was insatiable, and still is. However, I will be honest, while I did enjoy most of Frozen II, there were some things that left me feeling very let down and even heartbroken, and that is why I’m writing to you. I’d like to clarify that I'm not writing this letter to make demands or hurl insults. I know all of you put your hearts and soul into this film, and I have nothing but respect for everyone who worked on it. This is just a heartfelt, honest letter from a devoted fan who wants to see the Frozen franchise continue to thrive. I want more stories, and I want people to respond to them the way they did the first movie. I want more awards for the creators more good reviews, more success other than profits at the box office. I know I'm not your target audience at 33 years old, but I still hope you will hear my feedback.

I enjoyed most of the movie. The music, animation, scenery, and visual effects were BEAUTIFUL. I liked the implementation of Norse mythology and the lore that was set up, as well as the new characters, even though I feel like they could have used more screen time and development. I liked Anna’s arc, and Olaf’s recaps were hilarious. I adored seeing Elsa interact and connect with animals (like I do), because I always figured she probably didn’t handle them much in her youth, for fear of hurting them. I imagine she would love reptiles, like Bruni, because she probably knows what it's like to be feared and misunderstood. I also enjoyed seeing her heal and grow more confident in her powers, as well as seeing her sassy side. There are honestly a lot of good things to say about the film, and I loved the themes– I just feel like they could have been executed better. I’m so sorry if any of this comes off as rude.

My first issue is with the treatment of Hans, which is probably not something you hear often. (I’ve gotten a lot of judgement and grief from other fans for liking him.) I have always enjoyed him as a character, even though what he did was horrendous and I'm glad he failed. However, I still feel he has a lot of potential as a very dimensional character, and I completely believe he is redeemable. I know the book “A Frozen Heart” by Elizabeth Rudnick isn’t canon, but I feel she did a really good job of fleshing him out. Even from the bits we get on his backstory in the movie, I just feel like he was so desperate to get away from his family that he got carried away, versus just being completely evil and heartless. Whatever his canon backstory may be, it doesn’t excuse what he did, but I still believe he’s not so far gone that he can’t become a better person.

I was so excited when Santino Fontana said in an interview in 2015 that the writers told him they wanted to redeem him, and held onto that excitement for four years. So naturally, during the charades scene in F2, when Elsa called him an "unredeemable monster,” it felt like the writers were mocking those of us who wanted a redemption arc for him. I also don't understand why Elsa danced when she saw the memory of the Duke in Ahtohollan, then waved him off like he was a minor nuisance, but when she saw Hans, she had to break him immediately. Did the Duke not send two men to try to kill her in her ice castle? I feel like the Duke's villainy is often trivialized just to make Hans look worse so that he can be bashed harder. I really feel bad for Santino, because I know he wanted to come back, and frankly, I find it bizarre no one has addressed why he didn’t return, or even mentioned missing him during the press week and premiere interviews. Josh Gad is the only one who has mentioned wanting him back.

Again, I'm not making any demands here, I know you will do with Hans as you please, and I respect that. However, I do hope that you will consider a redemption arc for him again (without killing him, though. Please don’t give him the Kylo Ren/Ben Solo treatment). I know that it would be difficult, since many fans hate him, and it would have to be done slowly to be believable, but I know you have the talent to do it. Villain redemption doesn't happen much in Disney movies, so it could really be a groundbreaking thing to do, and would teach kids so many lessons about forgiveness and not holding grudges, as well as learning from their own mistakes. Kristoff was great because he taught people what non-toxic masculinity looks like, but Hans could take that further and teach them that toxic behavior can be unlearned— that no one is too far gone and that you don't have to be defined by the mistakes of your past. However, it needs to be apparent that it’s not Elsa or Anna’s job to change him— he must do the emotional labor for himself.

My other issue with this film is one that is common amongst the fan base, for many reasons, and that is the ending. This is actually the part of the letter I’ve had to condense the most, because I don’t want to go all Alexander Hamilton on you, so please bear with me. While I certainly understand the motivations behind the decision, to show that love outweighs distance, and the directors were inspired by their children leaving the nest, I still just don’t feel like it was appropriate for this particular franchise (nor was it in-character for Elsa at all). Not only is it a theme that is currently overdone in Disney films (it was also in Ralph Breaks the Internet and Toy Story 4), but it frankly retcons the theme of Frozen. The entire first movie was about reuniting sisters after thirteen years of separation, and then this one just goes to extreme lengths to separate them again. There are so many other ways you could have had the sisters gain some independence and follow new paths without turning Elsa into a nature spirit that lives in faraway woods with people she’s literally known for a day. (Anna can’t marry a man she just met, so why can Elsa live with people she just met?) She didn’t need a new home or personality to grow.

Sure, we’re told that the sisters keep in touch and visit, but we’re not shown. The sisters are still hundreds of miles apart in the last shot, which is what sticks in everyone’s minds. Also, shouldn’t Elsa and the Northuldra have been at the statue ceremony celebrating the coming together of the two lands? Especially since the statue is of Elsa's parents, so why wasn't she there? Even more painful is the fact that the books and magazine comics set after Frozen 2 (most of which have only been released in Europe and Asia) mostly feature Anna, Kristoff, Matthias, and Olaf. Elsa is only in a couple of them, and is barely mentioned in the ones she’s not in. It feels like she’s just a secondary character now, only coming in for occasional cameos, while the focus shifts on Anna and co. This franchise is supposed to be about the sisters being together, not one sister in Arendelle while the other is nowhere to be seen.

Many kids, from what I've heard, are also upset about the ending. Not only have I heard many stories of kids sobbing in theaters, but when I cosplayed Elsa at Katsucon in February 2020, I had a little boy who kept asking me why I "ran away from Anna again." It broke my heart and the only thing that made him stop asking was to tell him I was moving back home, but still visiting the forest. I felt so sad for him. My friend also cosplayed Elsa at a costume party and her friend’s kid started crying about Elsa leaving. I also read that the Elsa and Anna face characters in the Disney parks get asked a lot about the ending too, and Elsa has to say that she visits Arendelle every day to comfort them. Face characters shouldn’t have to comfort kids about the ending of the film their characters are in.

I also don't understand why it was necessary for Elsa to stay in the woods, especially if she can hear the spirits calling to her in Arendelle, and that the Nokk allows her to travel quickly between the two lands. Why couldn't she bring the Nokk and Bruni back to Arendelle with her, and just visit the forest? (Gale and the Rock Giants could come and go as they please.) Couldn’t she have gotten her own place on the fjord, if she didn't want to live in the castle? I understand that the purpose of the ending was to allow Elsa to be free and find her own place in the world, but I feel like giving her a position of divinity and having her move into the forest with people she just met is much too drastic of a stretch, like taking a yard of tape when you only need an inch.

Elsa living in the forest also, unfortunately, sends the unintentional message that people who are different, introverted, mentally ill, etc., like Elsa and myself, don't belong in modern society or with our families, and are better off living away from them (not that indigenous culture is inferior– it's just different). I know that's certainly not the message you meant to send, but it still comes off that way. As someone with a mental illness and relates to Elsa so much, I felt so alienated by the ending.

Of course, the part of it that bothers me most is Elsa's characterization during the entire scene. It feels like everything about her was completely changed to make her fit the ending (which I know was written first.) There was no indication in any short, comic, book, etc. that showed us she was still holding herself back or was unhappy in Arendelle. (Anna literally sings at the end of the Broadway show, “Elsa, you’re free!”) It feels like the first film told us, "Elsa learned to let go of her fears and embrace her true self and powers, and still found belonging with her kingdom and family,” and then the second film tells us, "But wait! That's not who Elsa *really* is, this is her TRUE TRUE self, and now she belongs in the magic forest because of her magic! It’s her destiny!” It’s like her powers have become her entire personality instead of a part of her. I feel like the Elsa I’ve known, loved, and clung to for the past seven years is gone. Of course, I expect her to evolve and grow, but this doesn’t feel consistent with her character. Growth and maturity don’t change your core personality like that. A lot of people, including myself, feel more disconnected from her than ever, because she feels like this unrelatable Christ-like figure on a pedestal, instead of a human with magical powers. She doesn't feel like she's on our plane anymore.

Even the way she talks and carries herself is completely different. She talks so slowly at the end, like an all-knowing goddess as she tells Anna all that she’s learned, and it’s just unsettling. She also doesn’t seem to make her own choices or learn from any of her mistakes. Not only did she tell Anna, "The spirits decided Arendelle should stand with you," which is deus-ex-machina (divine intervention) in a nutshell, but when Honeymaren tells her, "You belong up here!" she just agrees immediately without a second thought. I do like her stepping down as queen, but it should have been presented as her choice, not just because the spirits and the memory of Idunna told her she was fated to be something else all along. (Also, if the issue in the beginning was about her wanting to choose her own path and do more than just be queen, then how is another predetermined fate any better? She's not making her own choices, she's just a vessel at this point for the spirits’ agenda, which takes away her agency.) The trailers before the movie came out made it sound like the story was going to be about Elsa finding a middle ground between her humanity and her powers, but instead it was about how she needed to go too far into her magic because she’s “the chosen one.”

I know it’s just a movie and I shouldn’t be this distraught over it, especially a year and a half later. I actually started therapy the weekend after the movie came out because I knew that my reaction was indicative of much larger problems. While I have been working on those problems and have been doing better, I still feel disconnected from Elsa, and it still hurts. I miss her. She and the other characters have been there for me over the past seven years when real people couldn’t be bothered, and now I feel like my favorites have been ripped away. Again, I am not here to tell you what to do with your movies, nor are you responsible for my mental health, but I still hope you understand and will consider my feedback.

If there are more Frozen stories (I personally would like a Disney+ series, which would allow for more content and development than a movie), I hope that not only does Hans get a redemption arc (and belonging/friendship with the other characters) as I previously stated, but that I get my relatable, flawed, human Elsa back. I hope she’ll move back to Arendelle (with at least Bruni and the Nokk), but of course, still visit the forest frequently and stay close with the Northuldra. She and Anna should definitely explore their heritage more, and I really would love to learn more about the Northuldra characters. I really hope to see a story about her learning to balance her magic with her humanity, to find that middle ground. To have this “Yes, I have great power, but I’m still human” lightbulb moment. I basically just want exploration of the characters as humans, with their strengths and weaknesses, with their good days and the bad, and how they tackle things together, not just by sending letters via Gale Mail. (Especially with the pandemic still happening, seeing these sisters physically together would really lift some spirits. There are enough long-distance sisterhoods in real life, we don’t need them in our fairy tales.)

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this still-too-long letter. (I promise, I tried so hard to keep it under three pages, but I failed.) I know that a woman my age should not be this invested in a Disney movie, and you may even be thinking, “This lady is crazy!” (You wouldn’t be wrong.) I also know you’re going to do with the franchise and the characters what you see fit— again, I don’t expect you to cater to me or my wishes. I just love your characters and your world so much and I hate how upset Frozen II makes me. I feel like the ending, as well as the silence from the creators of the film, have just left us fans hanging. I don’t want you to hear the criticism and think, “Oh, well I guess people are sick of Frozen, let’s not touch it again.” I want more Frozen, I need more Frozen. Again, I’m so sorry if I sound rude or demanding. I really hope to see more of my beloved sisters and their friends (including a redeemed prince) very soon. I hope to feel everything good that the first film made me feel. Thank you again for listening to me. I wish you all the very best.

Your Loyal Fan,

Laura

#BringElsaHome #RedeemHans #Frozen2

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