#hatefueled

[herotheism]

Anonymous said: ⭐️ ― convincing portrayal of a canon character 😍 ― admiring from afar

Shout-outs of Awesomeness | Not Accepting (for now!)

For the first one, @charmonys, @hatefueled, and @enkosmios immediately come to mind for HSR muses! @sangsorrow and @sleeplesswork also carry a lot for the IvanTill nation with their pretty convincing portrayal of their relationship.

As for the second, I think a couple of oc blogs and those with fandoms I'm not too familiar with fit here! Particularly, @godmarked, @furiaei, @herdoubt, and @braveryhearted!

[xo-teric]

I really don’t like Caitlyn. Convince me otherwise 🤭

[lorelaireyess]

Dead stars don’t lie.

warnings: angst, violence, cheating, mentioning of blood, and idk whatever else i missed.

Synopsis:

When Anastasia crash-lands on Earth, she’s not looking for redemption—she’s looking to forget. Left to rot in a prison cell for a crime tied to Bellamy Blake, she believed her sacrifice saved Kai, the only boy who ever saw past her armor. But Kai didn’t make it to Earth—he’s still up there, dying, grieving, and eventually moving on.

Now stuck between Finn’s messy affections and Bellamy’s possessive attention, Anastasia finds herself unwillingly at the center of the chaos. But love’s a luxury down here, and survival doesn’t wait for hearts to heal. In a world where trust is a weapon and everyone’s hiding something, Anastasia’s not playing anyone’s game. Not anymore.

But the ground has a way of digging up secrets. And this time, she won’t go down without setting the whole damn forest on fire.

⸻

Chapter One: The Crash After the Crash

The air still smelled like smoke. Burnt metal. Blood.

Anastasia sat against the cold wall of the dropship, boots caked in mud, face smudged with ash, arms crossed tight over her chest like that could hold her together. Around her, the others argued—about food, water, the wristbands, who should lead. The usual. Chaos came easy down here. Order didn’t.

She didn’t speak. She watched.

Bellamy stood just outside, barking orders like the crown weighed nothing. And Finn, of course, was right there beside him, trying to calm the chaos with that soft voice and stupid savior complex. Anastasia couldn’t decide which one annoyed her more.

“You should eat something,” Finn said, stepping over a fallen plank, crouching beside her like they were friends.

“I should also be back in space with oxygen and less testosterone,” she muttered.

He laughed, like she was joking. She wasn’t.

“You’ve been quiet,” he added, like that was unusual.

She tilted her head toward him, eyes sharp. “People who talk too much tend to die first. You volunteering?”

Before Finn could say something else he’d probably regret, Bellamy’s voice cut through the tension. “Hey, spacewalker. Give her some room.” His tone wasn’t casual. Not even close.

Finn didn’t move right away. And that’s when Anastasia caught it—that flicker in Bellamy’s eyes. Not concern. Not command.

Jealousy.

Interesting.

She stood, brushing past both of them without a word, grabbing the knife at her belt like it gave her control over something. Anything. Let them play their games. She had her own.

Behind her, Bellamy muttered something under his breath. She didn’t care enough to ask what.

Let them circle. Let them burn.

She wasn’t here to be anyone’s flame. She was the match.

⸻

Anastasia sat alone just outside the dropship, boots caked in dirt, knees bent, hands resting loosely over them. She hadn’t said much since they hit the ground—most assumed it was shock. It wasn’t. She was watching. Calculating.

The chaos started fast.

Kids ripped off their wristbands, tossing them aside like they were shackles. “Screw the Ark!” someone had shouted. “We’re free now!” It was a lie, but they wanted to believe it. Bellamy fed it to them like candy.

They ate it up.

“Take those off,” he told them, voice steady. “They’re just tracking you. The Ark doesn’t care. You’re down here now—start acting like it.”

Clarke tried to push back, tried to reason. “They need to know we’re alive—they’ll come for us.”

Bellamy gave her that look. The one that said he didn’t care if she was right. He was already building his kingdom from the bones of their panic.

Anastasia had stood at the edge of it all, arms crossed. Silent. And now, hours later, nothing had changed. Just more noise. More arguing. A boy named Wells tried to organize a scouting group. Clarke supported it. Bellamy tried to shut it down.

“We need to find food,” Clarke said. “We can’t survive on nothing.”

“We need to stay put,” Bellamy argued. “The forest isn’t safe.”

Anastasia pushed herself off the wall and walked straight into the circle of voices. “Or we could all keep barking orders and wait to starve while someone else gets eaten by a glowing jaguar or whatever the hell lives out there.”

The group went quiet for half a second. Then Bellamy narrowed his eyes. “Got something to say, say it.”

“I’ve got a lot to say,” she snapped, “but none of you want to hear it. Especially not you.” Her gaze burned. “You think just because you talk louder, it makes you right? You’re leading kids who barely know how to tie a knot into a survival mission, Blake. That’s not leadership. That’s suicide with a speech.”

Finn muttered under his breath, clearly amused. Clarke looked ready to jump in again, but Bellamy was already moving closer.

“You think you could do better?” he asked.

“I think I’d rather do anything than follow another overconfident guy who thinks the ground’s just another hallway to walk through,” she said coldly.

He didn’t back down. “You’re just bitter because I got you locked up.”

The words slammed into her chest like a punch, but she didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

“Maybe,” she said. “But I’m still alive. That’s more than I can say for the last person who trusted you.”

A beat of silence fell over the group. Someone coughed. No one moved.

“Alright,” Clarke finally said, stepping in like a referee. “We’re going. Whoever’s too scared can stay behind and argue about it later.”

Anastasia glanced at Finn as he walked up beside her, ready to volunteer for the scouting mission. He smiled—half-warm, half-hopeful. She didn’t return it. Behind them, Bellamy watched. Quiet. Staring like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how without setting it all on fire.

Anastasia turned away, her voice flat. “Let him burn.”

She didn’t care if he was jealous. Didn’t care if Finn liked her. Didn’t care if everyone here wanted to play leader.

She hadn’t come to Earth to survive under someone else’s rules.

She came to survive in spite of them.

—————————

Finn caught up eventually. “You always like this, or is it just a ‘crashed-on-a-toxic-planet’ mood?”

She shrugged. “I’m adjusting.”

He walked beside her for a while, hands in his pockets, like he didn’t mind the silence. That was fine. She wasn’t looking for someone to talk to—just someone who didn’t expect her to pretend.

“You don’t talk much,” he said finally.

“You talk enough for both of us,” she replied, not unkindly.

He gave her a look, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know, I don’t get you.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

A beat passed. Then she added, without turning to him, “Shouldn’t you be off holding Clarke’s hand or something?”

He blinked. “What?”

She glanced at him finally, dry and unreadable. “I mean—if you’re gonna play peacekeeper, might as well do it where it counts. She looks like she could use someone to remind her it’s not all falling apart.”

Finn’s expression shifted. “It’s not like that.”

Anastasia raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep on moss.”

She walked ahead without waiting for a response. It wasn’t bitterness. It wasn’t jealousy. It was just her calling it how she saw it.

And if he didn’t like it—well, that wasn’t her problem either.

———————————————

author note: well idk how to feel abt this but posted this cus i was bored

[signedbyriver]

I really do not like teashrimp, get it out of my sight 💔💔💔 I do not like seeing content of it I do not like seeing art of it I don't even like the simple mention of it, or it being implied in a video I do not like the shippers either (and only have about three exceptions, but even then It's like... ehhhhhhh...) It's honestly really the only dandy's world ship (besides sprout x ginger) that I truly, wholeheartedly, hate in every way possible. I want it to go away why is it popular It does not deserve the attention it gets.

[charmonys]

@hatefueled &&. said...

ya dork…

❝  mr.  boothill,  there  are  over  thirty  five  officially  recognized  variations  of  what  is  colloquially  referred  to  as  the  fork.  they  are  most  often  separated  by  width,  length  and  number  of  tines  —  which  can  range  anywhere  between  two  and  six,  though  most  often  tend  to  linger  around  three  to  four.  ❞  the  two  pronged  variant  even  fell  out  favor  after  it  proved  too  prone  to  stabbing  its  wielder!  ❝  they  can  be  used  for  a  wide  variety  of  purposes;  transferring  food  from  a  serving  platter,  for  instance.  spearing  loose  vegetables.  scraping  meat  from  bone.  cutting  through  the  crust  of  a  delicate  pastry.  there  is  even  a  peculiar  variant  sporting  tines  of  uneven  width  designed  specifically  for  the  consumption  of  ice  cream.  ❞

the  halovian  tents  his  fingers,  hard  enough  that  his  knuckles  pop  beneath  the  pressure.  ❝  i  say  this  specifically  because  i  do  not  expect  an  ordinary  person  to  know  these  things.  i  can  acquiesce  to  the  use  of  a  salad  fork  to  eat  a  meat-based  dish  —  or  a  dessert  fork  to  twirl  pasta.  i'm  not  so  inflexible  as  to  be  unreasonable.  ❞

eyes  open  —  and  in  contrast  to  his  placating  words,  sunday's  gaze  seems  to  burn  with  the  fervor  of  a  man  clinging  to  the  few  remaining  threads  of  long-worn  restraint.  ❝  however ...  this  is  one  departure  from  dining  etiquette  i  will  not  —  no,  cannot  permit ...  ❞  a  shuddering  inhale,  ❝  because  SPOONS  EXIST  for  A  REASON.  ❞

[darabeatha]

@hatefueled replied ; if you poke his eye does he pause-

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ So it seems that this film won't stop recording until the reel of your curiosity runs out.. I understand, I truly do- however, if I decide to let the script unroll like this, we'll have a long way to go. It is from this point that you, my star, should know how it is― make the audience wait long enough and not even the most suspense-driven plot will keep them engaged. How about we move forward with the plot then and finally reach the climax you are anticipating? Go on, give it a try. Who knows, if your curiosity inspires me enough, I might even delve into horror again !! Haven't tinkered with that genre in a while. ❞

[bluelotused]

❝ Yes, how right you are. I have been keeping the good doctor busy. Is that a problem for you? ❞ — @hatefueled

[divinasratione]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ❝ DO NOT run in the hallways, please. Goof grief― common decency. ❞ More of a personal quirk perhaps. / @hatefueled

[deadn30n]

@hatefueled / one liner 🍃

he  can  feel  a  headache  coming  on  almost  instantly.  deep  breaths  Shen  Qingqiu,  deep  breaths.  no  need  to  smile,  just  make  yourself  look  natural.  smooth  faced.  unaffected.     “  Boothill.  what  a  pleasure  to  see  you  again.  ”   

[midokai]

@hatefueled     SENT         [   . . .   ]         " truffle...? " he looks to him, then looks back at his krookodile. " really? y'think she looks like a truffle? " skepticism seen on his face. but she doesn't seem to mind it much. then after a pause jericho barks a raspy laugh, and reaches out to tap the brim of N's cap down to tease. " fine fine, whatcha got fer the others eh? " the other pokemon in question ( flametalon, perched nearby. and toxtricity who's gnawing on something he'd been given to eat ). " if they like em, i'll keep whatever ya pick. "

     ❝     she does look like a truffle,     ❞     &͟.     clearly she has no issue with the title,     so why not?     if nothing else he should be grateful that such a denomination was given to her because it could have been worse——     something like cupcake would have been significantly more dreadful     &͟.     yet he’d shown her at least some sliver of mercy     /     sure,     a pokémon this snazzy should have a nickname to match,     a lot more sophisticated than the chocolate truffles that remained her namesake,     but he liked the one he picked     &͟.     so it is here to stay,     because even if jericho dislikes it     ...     she doesn’t seem to mind     &͟.     that’s a good enough reason to continue utilizing it.     ‘sides,     cute     &͟.     cool can coexist,     she can appear as intimidating as she does     &͟.     have an endearing name to match,     who is he to stop that?     hell,     his own galvantula is named toast     &͟.     though she is not frightening to all she surely terrifies those with arachnophobia,     that should count for something,     surely. 

     another attempt at defending his naming choice brews within person     &͟.     right as he opens his mouth to spew out some long winded audio novel about how it fits her perfectly he’s startled by the sudden tap to the brim of his cap,     so much so it even makes him jolt upright some,     emerald hues as wide as saucer plates.     (     the panicked sound that escapes him is done so unintentionally.     )

     but     …     wait,     he’s actually fine with it?     that’s     …     surprising.

     he hadn’t expected that,     truthfully,     but now he’s a man on a mission——     he can’t possibly let him down!     if he likes the name truffle then     …     perhaps he’ll continue with the food motif,     yes,    that’ll work.

     ❝    are you sure?     ❞     because there’s no turning back now,     once jericho agrees——     to seal the deal a hand is held out towards the older,     the slight narrowing of eyes,     almost as if squinting     &͟.     a subconscious nod,     an invitation for the other to follow suit     &͟.     do the same.     ❝     pinky promise me that.     i don’t want you going back on your word.     ❞     he has many an idea brewing in the depths of mind already,     he’s never been more prepared for a task in his life:     if the illusion is shattered because such a privilege were to suddenly be revoked,     well,     upset would be an understatement of his genuine sentiments.     ❝     take my pinky.     ❞

[aerosung]

@hatefueled s.c

"Salutations,��  stranger"   Ciaccona   hummed,   absentmindedly   strumming   the   melodic   strings   of   her   lute.   "here   for   a   song?   orrr....   perhaps   there's   something   else   you're   here   for?"

Though   the   man   appeared   somewhat   intimidating,   she   wasn't   uncomfortable   with   his   sudden   presence.   It   in   fact   ...   intrigued   her.

[darabeatha]

smol, smol,,, i miss u

ㅤㅤ/ FRET NOT KERO FOR HERE I AM!

[charmonys]

@hatefueled &&. said... how physically fit is sunday? does he exercise? cardio???

a  trick  question  —  he  is  not.  he  has  glass  bones  and  paper  skin.  he  works  out  at  the  library.  if  he  is  getting  any  form  of  cardio,  it's  presumably  because  he's  running  for  his  life.  sunday's  fitness  level  is  equivalent  to  the  average  office  worker  spending  their  nine  to  five  sitting  behind  a  desk  all  day.  if  you  ask  him  to  run  up  a  flight  of  stairs,  he's  coming  out  of  it  winded.  lifting  him  up  is  like  holding  a  bag  of  grapes.  i  cannot  take  any  artwork  that  gives  him  abs  seriously  —  this  bird  has  scrawny  mage  written  all  over  him,  no  i  will  not  take  constructive  criticism.

i  don't  think  sunday  is  necessarily  opposed  to  physical  activity,  his  lifestyle  up  until  this  point  just  hasn't  allotted  much  room  for  it.  he's  collectively  spent  years  marinating  in  a  dreampool.  he  does  take  care  of  himself  in  terms  of  maintaining  appearances  —  he  would  be  the  type  to  have  a  meticulous  hair  and  skincare  routine.  however,  he  often  forgets  to  eat  unless  he  makes  it  a  point  to  set  an  alarm  —  and  even  on  the  occasions  when  he  does,  his  appetite  isn't  the  most  reliable.  (  unsurprisingly,  he's  also  anemic.  )  when  he  gets  drawn  into  a  task,  he  tends  to  fixate  very  hard  on  it  to  the  point  of  negatively  impacting  his  health  —  it  needs  to  get  done  and  it  needs  to  meet  his  standards,  otherwise  it's  going  to  bother  him  endlessly  until  it  does.  this  can  be  something  as  mundane  as  perfecting  a  piano  piece  or  complicated  as  organizing  the  charmony  festival.  he  operates  with  this  strange  mix  of  self  care  and  self  neglect  where  he  prioritizes  looking  healthy  and  put  together  rather  than  actually  being  healthy  —  while  simultaneously  taking  a  very  rules  for  thee  but  not  for  me  stance  towards  everyone  else's  well  being.  (  the  irony  being  sunday  would  absolutely  hassle  someone  who  takes  care  of  themselves  as  poorly  as  he  does.  )

that  being  said,  i  do  think  he  would  enjoy  incorporating  some  morning  stretches  into  his  daily  schedule.  it  really  isn't  much;  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  set  aside  to  cycle  through  the  same  routine  he's  probably  been  doing  for  years  —  though  it  helps  him  feel  a  little  more  limber  and  gives  sunday  a  precious  moment  to  collect  his  thoughts  before  delving  into  his  daily  itinerary.  he  maintains  this  habit  even  after  he  starts  traveling  with  the  express;  it's  one  of  the  few  scraps  of  familiarity  he's  able  to  cling  to,  even  as  everything  else  in  his  life  changes  so  dramatically.  being  thrust  into  reality  full-time  as  well  as  facing  a  level  of  danger  he's  wholly  unaccustomed  to  definitely  has  him  rethinking  his  sedentary  lifestyle  a  bit.

[nofuzzymath]

@hatefueled

"Excuse me, but if you're going to be on the construction site, then I must insist you at least wear a hard hat. At Belobog Heavy Industries, safety is our top priority." The absolute last thing Ben needs to add to his stack of overflowing paperwork is an injury and illness incident report...

[mettatoniic]

hi, are u single???

* KA-SIGH...

tellin' ya ... these fans get more rowdy with every phone call.

* WOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO KNOW, WEATHER BOY SPACE COWBOY? CLICK. I'LL TAKE THE NEXT CALLER.

[auco]

your ocs. your canons. i love them...

i could literally say the same thing to you i'm kissing a giant mark into your forehead rn and spinning you from where my mouth is suctioned