#i think??? bc of flame spear

[sycamorality]

young sait doodle in free draw because i was bored

[hoarah-babylon]

I had to make a BIG post going over everything that's got my brain whirring after watching the story trailer - it's all my speculation and personal opinion so don't take it as fact yada yada IT'S FUN SPECULATION TIME

(I'll put it under the cut bc this is gonna be a LONG one)

“Miquella the kind spoke of the beginning. The seduction. And the betrayal. An affair from which Gold arose. And so too was Shadow born."

My interpretation of this scene is that we are seeing the creation of the Golden Order by Marika. She plucks grace from something dead and fleshy, and holds it up to the Greater Will, beckoning in her new age. It would make sense to me, considering the voiceover, that this is a dead god that has been betrayed by Marika so she can pursue her Order and claim power. It does like quite reminiscent of Kos from Bloodborne to me. The fleshiness of the corpse also reminds me of the godskins/snakeskin. However, I don't believe this is the Gloam Eyed Queen. From my understanding of the timeline (mainly thanks to @eldenringslut) the GEQ didn't come about until later on during Marika's reign - if we are seeing the creation of the GO, and my understanding of the timeline is correct, I don't think it would make sense for this to be the GEQ. I can't deny different aspects of this do allude to things related to her though - the dusky sky, the godskin-like flesh. But I almost think that would be too 'perfect' for it to fit together like that, especially with how much people want to know more about the GEQ, I think fromsoft would want to keep us in the dark and surprise us. Whatever we are seeing here, Gold and Shadow seemingly came about at the same time.

We get our first look at what appears to be Messmer's army. They appear to all wield spears which ties into Messmer's whole Impaler thing, along with the shot of the person(?) impaled on the steps. I wonder who these people were, if they had to stay in the Shadow Realm after the battle was done (if it is?). I find the design on the helmet interesting - at first glance I thought it could be a tree or roots, but actually doesn't it kind of remind you of the black tendrils that shoot out of Messmer's flame? I think it could be either, or both, or maybe it's a chicken and egg situation and they're related somehow... my first thought when the initial gameplay trailer came out was that the dark tendrils in Messmer's flame could be deathroot or something similar to that. Maybe I wasn't far off?

We get our first shot of Messmer here. His pose pretty much solidifies to me that this is his army - this is the pose of a character commanding an army. It's so classic fantasy, the composition and everything, I love it. Messmer is awesome. I'm obsessed with the snake-like flames flying above the carnage.

"What followed was a war unseen. One that could never be put to song. A purge without Grace, or honour. The tyranny of Messmer's flame."

My take on this is that once Marika had won her battle/betrayed the God we see her pluck Grace from, she had her opponents banished and/or wiped out at the hands of Messmer. I have to say, it does surprise me that it seems Messmer was around and fully grown at the creation of Marika's Order. The implications there leave me with so many questions. Who is his other parent? Marika is Numen, and they seldom give birth. This is not an insignificant thing for her to have a child, especially if the theory of births being governed by the Erdtree/Golden Order is to be believed, and this must have came about before then. It would also go against the idea that Messmer is the full brother/secret triplet of Miquella and Malenia, considering that Miq + Mal were not born until Marika had left Godfrey for Radagon. I find that detail so intriguing... especially because I was so on board with the butterfly theories.

No idea who this is, but they're cool and that definitely looks like the kind of weapon we'd be able to pick up. It just looks like a PVP weapon, know what I mean? Very reminiscent of Vyke as well imo, similar pose to the box art of him along with the billowing cape. This reminds me, I'm noticing an emphasis on hair in this trailer too - I never took much note of Marika's hair before but in this trailer there was a lot of emphasis put on how long it is, how similar it is to threads of Grace, and Miquella's hair too. It's making me think of the bible story of Samson but let me not go too off the rails

Here we have some of the coolest shots in the trailer imo. This posits the Lion/Omens as enemies of Messmer to me - which to me supports the view that Messmer is aligned with Marika. The Lion/Omens always came off to me as if they were making a mockery of the GO - positioning themselves as enemies to Marika/the GO. We get another good look at his Flame, with the tendrils. They almost remind me of thorns actually. That final shot looks like a victory scene to me. It also really hammers home the Impaler thing. The man knows his brand!

Then we pan up to see what hangs above this burned city - this 'shadow tree'. THIS IS MARIKA'S RUNE.

I think we are seeing the origins of her rune as part of the modern Elden Ring here - Grace/blessings dripping from the bough of this tree. I have to say given the imagery relating to motherhood on the run up to the DLC, the rune does look vaguely yonic, especially on the seals. I think references to motherhood are in this trailer too - Marika taking something from a fleshy orifice with a voiceover talking about seduction, I can't imagine that wasn't intentional. So far the main character we have seen is her child, after all. The whole story of Elden Ring revolves around Marika's children. I have a feeling Marika's relation to motherhood and childbearing is going to be a big theme in the DLC.

I remember when the first gameplay trailer dropped, people theorised that this was Ranni's rune, and I was happy to believe that because of the similarities to Rennala's rune. But now I believe it's Miquella's rune, for several reasons, one being it reminds me of Malenia's rune, and they are twins after all. Although Rennala and Malenia's runes are oddly similar, it just makes more sense to me that it would be Miquella's, considering we are following in his footsteps. I think these rune spikes are going to be our DLC equivalents of sites of grace.

"And so kindly Miquella would abandon everything. His golden flesh, his blinding strength..."

Abandoning his flesh is very reminiscent of Ranni... but why would he need to abandon his flesh? Perhaps after Mohg stole him away? Though I have to say, I'm warming up the idea that Mohg never actually had Miquella, he just thought he did. That might not make sense considering that body in Mohg's palace is how we get to the Shadow Lands, but I don't know, something about it doesn't sit quite right with me for some reason. The line 'his blinding strength' is a bit odd. I can't take credit for this next idea, I saw it on twitter, but someone suggested that this is referencing him potentially abandoning Malenia - his strength, his blade. For Miquella to abandon Malenia though, it doesn't exactly align with what we know of his character. This is the person that turned his back on the GO because it could do nothing for Malenia's sickness. He'd need a really good reason to do that to her. Maybe it was his only option? I'm so intrigued about why Miquella is even in the Shadow Lands to begin with. What are his motivations? Perhaps it's something to do with his proclivity to want to welcome all, especially those outside of Grace, I suppose those in the shadow lands fall under that mantle.

"Even his fate."

Now THIS is super interesting - our first look at St. Trina! In her usual purple - associated with sleep. It does also look like she's sleeping here, sinking... What on earth does it mean to say that Miquella abandoned his fate as we are shown an image of St. Trina? Was he meant to eventually become Trina fully? We don't know much about her, but we do know Trina is an aspect/alter-ego of some sort of Miquella. Considering his parents were one in the same body, it's not a stretch to assume this could be the same case here. But in Marika/Radagon's case, it doesn't seem completely intentional - with the Ring shattering, I always got the impression they each fought to be in control of their singular body. Perhaps Miquella/Trina worked together rather than against each other? The queer part of me can't help but think of some kind of allegory to transition and Miquella having to walk away from it for whatever reason... but I really don't know enough to figure anything out from this.

I saw someone point out that this shot of Trina looks like Trina's lilies too, which is super cool (sorry I don't remember who that was).

"But we are not deterred. We choose to follow. Will you walk with us?"

I'm honestly surprised to see all these characters that we saw in the previous trailer just hanging out, I assumed they'd all be enemies of different factions. But here they look like allies, and from the voiceover they sound like it too, asking if we will join them. I think the voiceover is one of these NPCs. Seeing the fighting guy second on the left has got me super excited, what if he teaches us the hands-on combat we saw him do in the first trailer? I also think the crouching character on the right is the one we saw sleeping in the purple area (Trina?) from the last trailer:

Anyway, these are my thoughts, I hope they resonate in one way or another. I can't wait to come back in a couple months and see how wrong I was <3 yayyy

[reikunrei]

okayyyy so i made a post abt this last night that was just a short ramble trying to piece my thoughts together but basically... i’m just really curious how will’s (possible) powers might manifest and what they might be, and i’m trying to like. reason out how i feel about them and what i personally think would be cool or fitting...

lots of people have talked about this before (like user pinkeoni has made some really good posts abt it, and i think heroesbyler has had good discussions abt it too) and what his powers might be, and a lot of them revolve around creation or light, both of which i’m very fond of

this isn't so much a theory or prediction as it is a "these are things i noticed and i think this would work well with the themes of the show" type of spiel. it ended up way longer than i wanted it to and goes off on multiple tangents because i can't stop myself, so i'm putting it under the cut lol

it's more just for me to try and articulate what i'm feeling about it, but if anyone actually reads this mess, you're more than welcome to share your thoughts :3

with the creation stuff, it automatically makes me think of the UD taking the shape of hawkins... because we know that henward grew to hate that town so why would vecna shape the UD to look like the place he hated? i suppose it could be bc he wanted to take revenge on the town, so why not daydream about it and destroy your scale model of it to get some catharsis, right? but... then it's frozen on the night will went missing? it’s possible that the UD could have simply taken the shape of hawkins when the s1 gate was opened and made the two worlds touch, thus making the UD a true "mirror" dimension of hawkins. but i also really like the idea of will getting sucked into the UD, panicking, wishing he had his hiding places to go to to escape from this monster chasing him, and poof! now he's in hawkins and all of his hiding places are there (he's good at hiding!) but it's still the "wrong" hawkins

but anyway, i want to move on to the "light" angle because there's so many things that i love about the possibility of will's powers taking the form of some kind of light to counteract the darkness created by vecna and the UD ("hide in the light" thank u max)

i especially think it would be cool for it to take the shape of some kind of fire or flame, even if the powers themselves don't behave like fire, like it's just a stylization choice to give some sort of visual that the characters and audience can see

i don't recall if there's any specific moment where any version of henward/vecna/001 or other characters talk about burning or fire as a form of destruction in a metaphorical/symbolic sense, but we see it enough of it literally throughout the show. fire is a means of causing pain, of killing, of destroying

season 1, nancy and jonathan think to burn the demogorgon to a crisp because, hey, that'd be a pretty effective way to kill something, right? so they carry that theory over into all the other seasons

season 2, we see hopper using his lighter to maneuver through the tunnels below hawkins, and the vines flinch away from the flame. we see owens and the lab using fire to cull the "weeds" still growing out of the gate. we see will react physically to the burning, feeling the pain through the link with the hivemind, and requiring it to be cold in order to not be in physical agony

season 3, uuuh i can't remember any direct usage of fire against the fleshflayer other than the fireworks, but that's more about the explosions than the flames imo lol. but we do get the sauna test (best s3 episode hands down mwah love it) and the aversion to heat that we see in billy and also in heather, though less prominently

season 4, we get murray's killer flamethrower scene and hopper using the flaming spear to keep the demogorgon at bay. our hawkins crew relies heavily on use of fire (flambé) in order to take out vecna's physical body

so there's just a lot of fire and fire as a means of destruction. but i can't help also thinking about how fire isn't purely a means of harm. fire keeps us warm, it brings us light in the darkness, it cooks our food and brings us health. the sun, a giant ball of fire, is essential for life to exist on earth. i especially keep thinking about how wildfires are a necessity to the planet, and in places like healthy grassland ecosystems, fires are crucial to burn out old growth to make way for new, fresh green, which the animals there then rely on. letting old growth continue to sit and dry out and die isn't good. it has to be removed completely so that new grass shoots can take over

(not to mention that allowing for controlled burns and letting wildfires run their course in a regular system ultimately allows for fewer, less destructive wildfires to happen. if there's no old, dry growth to burn, then there's less stuff to catch on fire)

how does this tie into the show, though?

to me, it makes me think of the concept of simply living with your trauma, not talking about it, and pretending everything is fine, when all that's doing is creating more kindling for a bigger, more destructive fire. it makes me think of season 2 and the conversation will has with jonathan about how everyone keeps treating him like he's gonna break, and the instructions joyce and hopper got from owens to just "treat him how you normally would." you can ignore trauma all you want and pretend everything is fine, but it's going to be more destructive in the long run. instead, letting him talk about it, listening, letting him burn things down a little bit, will be healthier because it'll clear out that old, dry grass clogging everything up and leave a clean patch of earth for him to build back up with new, healthier growth. you can take a weed wacker to it all you want, but those old roots are still there

not to mention the way they get rid of the mind flayer is to "burn it out of him." they literally let the "fire" run rampant, cranking up the heat to make his body inhabitable to the mind flayer, clearing out those nasty "weeds" so will can grow on his own (more or less) unimpeded

and then there's the s1 flashback scene between will and joyce where he's drawing will the wise shooting green fireballs. joyce asks, "why does he need fireballs if he's so wise? can't he just outsmart the bad guys?" but will explains that sometimes the bad guys are smart too, so he needs the fireballs

only here, they're green because he doesn't have a red crayon. this specific tidbit makes me think of how will's powers are currently repressed in some way. at that time, it was possibly because his powers "hadn't come in" yet, if we want to follow the idea that powers are a symbol for puberty or coming of age

he hasn't "found his flame" yet, so to speak (which is what got me thinking about all of this at all last night bc of the song 'find your flame' from the sonic frontiers ost the absolute slapper that it is) and at this point it's obvious that any awakening of his powers will happen in s5 when he's no longer being suppressed, much like how he currently has to suppress his true feelings, or how he's been unable to move on from what happened to him in s1 and 2

he has to use "fireballs" because sometimes the bad guy is smart. sometimes the bad guy has a trick up his sleeve (like *checks notes* literally not being able to die) and your original plan won't work. you can stock up on weapons, you can create as many sneaky ambushes as you want, you can solve all of the bad guy's riddles, but sometimes you need the fireballs

and, once again, we come back to how i feel like will's powers won't be literal fireballs, or something he physically wields. when it comes to el, henward, and kali, as well as the other powers that we see from other subjects, it's all something that they do. and here's where i start to struggle with how i want to articulate what i think about will's powers...

to me, will's possible powers aren't a weapon in the way that we've seen other powers used, or at least framed as, a weapon

like... i guess i do think that it's something that he can "do," but it's less "i'm going to move this thing with my mind" "i'm going to go into your head and walk through your memories" "i'm going to make you see something that isn't really there." like, he himself, his person, his mind, his essence, his intent, is the power. will byers is the light. why else constantly bask him in rays of sunshine, hm?? lol

again, i want to touch on the possibility of the UD hawkins manifesting simply because he wanted it to. he didn't think about it, he didn't deliberately go like "okay and now this house is here and this place is there" it simply... was. it just happened without much of his input other than a vague wish and panic

if we want to make it into something more deliberate, it makes me think of lio fotia in promare. the movie is basically about this group of people who suddenly developed "burnish" abilities, where they contain fire and have some sort of fire powers. they're persecuted by the rest of the planet, and are treated as terrorists and locked away in prisons and experimented upon. the fire, or "promare," inside of them is a double-edged sword, where they supposedly rejuvenate their bodies, but if they don't let it burn, it instead kills them and they turn to ash. spoilers i guess (you should definitely go watch this movie i highly recommend it), but near the end of the movie, lio is taken captive by the antagonist, kray foresight, and our other main chara galo thymos tries to save lio. kray lashes out using his burnish powers and tries to burn galo, but lio launches his own flames toward galo to protect him. when galo's firefighting team finds him, he's on fire, but he doesn't notice because the fire doesn't hurt him. it's a special kind of flame that doesn't burn! in the end, in order to save the world, they have to let it fully burn one last time, and galo and lio work together to wrap the entire earth in a massive wave of fire, and it's fire that takes the form of water. it engulfs everyone, but everyone realizes that it doesn't actually burn

i'm getting off topic but !! now we start getting less into "will has fire powers" and more "his powers are light and warmth" instead. like lio and galo's combined powers and intent (that's the other thing, that final big burn is different than the rest because of the intent behind it), it's not actually about the fire, it's about its purpose

he needs the fireballs to fight the bad guys, but in the case of our "bad guy," literal fireballs don't work. henward's past is a complicated one, and a lot of where he's been led was caused by his lack of a proper support system. he was villainized for being different. even when he was found by someone who "cared" for him, it was for that man's own personal gain, not because he actually cared about henward

henward was only ever burned and then left in the cold. nobody gave him a second chance like el, nobody listened to him like will. he was forced to fend for himself on his own in the darkness. he came to rely on the darkness. vecna literally focuses on the darkest thoughts of his victims in order to gain enough power to open gates. and sure, focusing on negative emotions gives all of our characters with powers some burst of strength

but then we're shown that love is what makes them even stronger. focusing on happy memories, memories of friends and loved ones, memories of the love itself, is what allows el to overpower 001 in the lab and to close the gate in s2 and to break billy out of his tether to the fleshflayer. and even in that final showdown in s3, she's not using her powers. she's burned out. in that moment, it's not the powers themselves that save them, it's the message behind it

will's whole character is about love and understanding. he puts himself last consistently, he puts the needs of others above himself, and he does not know how to be a little bit selfish when it comes to his feelings. he's sensitive, he's kind, he's artistic, he cries easy, he relies on his friends and family to feel safe and loved, and without them, he feels lost and hurt and alone. and there might be ups and downs, but he gets that love and support from them. they always have his back. he knows what it's like to feel pain and to suffer, but to have people who will stay by your side unconditionally through it all

and that's something he can offer to vecna and his alternate versions. he can offer that love, and that warmth, and that light in the darkness. and once again, i think it would be neat if it was less of a literal flame or source of light, and that it was will who is the source of light. like, he is the example for henward/vecna to see. he's the proof that despite all the bad shit there is in the world, there are people who will still love you anyway. there's people who will listen to you and care for you even if everyone else shuts you out

and even if it does take the form of something literal, of an actual flame or glowing ball of light or more of those glowy particles, it's not a weapon like the other powers we've seen

it's also about just shining a light on all the good stuff that's mixed in with the bad stuff. again, there is no black and white (thanks brenner, you fuck). henward was miserable in his life, he hated it and was frustrated that he felt trapped in a cage, and he only saw all the bad in the world. he couldn't see any of the good mixed in (ie. the possibility that he was friends with scott clarke as a kid, or even the fact that victor was really so caring and loved his son so much) because he just assumed it was all bad and he'd have to start from scratch to get any of the good he wanted

even focusing on the negative thoughts and feelings of his victims, vecna was able to be evaded by thinking of happy memories that took place at the same time as the bad ones. "hide in the light." again and again, we see max use memories, both past and present, to free herself from his clutches. good memories that still exist alongside the bad ones. and if vecna acknowledges that there's still good mixed in among the bad, his whole source of power, the foundation for his plan, completely crumbles

if will's power has to do with light, then he'll be the one to shine the light on all of the good memories that henward had mixed in among the bad. and this isn't to victim blame this 12 year old boy who was miserable and didn't know what else to do, but it's instead about his lack of support system, and how it's understandable to have grown so jaded, but that doesn't mean everything is bad, and there's still a chance for him to come back from it and change his way of thinking

henward was a wildfire waiting to happen, and rather than having someone to let him burn a little, to let out his anger and listen, he was trimmed back and suppressed. he had his old growth left there to dry out, which only added more kindling. he was never given the room to bring in new growth

and then to really tie in the use of fire to match the theme of "no black and white," i think about avatar the last airbender, and specifically the sun warrior temple that aang and zuko visit in the final book. in book 1 of atla, aang tries to learn firebending and jumps in too quickly, ends up burning katara's hands, and swears off ever learning firebending because he doesn't want to hurt anyone with it. in book 3, zuko offers to teach him, but aang is still very timid about it because of that incident in book 1. zuko also finds his firebending ability diminishing, and they surmise that it's because he no longer has this drive to find and capture the avatar. that was his source of power, his purpose, and now that it's no longer his purpose, he has to find the true way to master firebending. so, the two boys travel to the sun warrior temple to try to find answers. there, both zuko and aang admit that they really only see fire as something destructive, but the sun warriors remind them that fire is warmth and light and life. fire can be destructive, but it is not only destructive. it's something beautiful and necessary, you just have to respect it

feels pretty fitting for stranger things, yeah?

so, to wrap this all up before i go fucking crazy:

i personally think that will's powers will predominantly take the form of fire or light

i do also still adhere to some of the creation power theories, but it also wouldn't be crazy for him to have more than one power, right? after all, el can use telekinesis, track someone's physical location, and go into their minds. that's 3 pretty different things that she can do!

will is directly tied to the behavior of the lights in s1 and called back to in s4. throughout the show, and especially in s4, will is basked in sunshine on multiple occasions. sure, those instances are mostly about his bond to mike, and how mike sees him in this halo of light all the time...

but that still ties into the theme of love. those rays of light are about mike's love for will, and vice versa. but that kind of unconditional love and acceptance is something that will have to be extended to henward and vecna. therefore: light is the key

and again, it just feels very fitting to have the key be something like fire. something that's so often villainized and only seen as bad and destructive, when it truly is something that's misunderstood. unchecked, it can run rampant and cause pain and grief, but when respected, it can bring life and healing, for lack of a better word

so far, we've only seen fire used as a means of harm. it does keep our characters safe (ie. hopper's flaming spear, the flame thrower, the moltovs, etc.) but it is wielded as a weapon first, when it doesn't have to be

fire can cause pain, yes, but fire is also passion and love. light is something to be extended, to help people find their way out of the darkness, and i just think it would be really cool to see vecna, who's always shrouded in darkness, or henward who hid away in the dark attic surrounded by candles, to have a ray of warm sunshine like will byers hold out a hand to him and try to help

[thecoppersoulbox]

Badly Explaining Every HSR Character's Type

Disclaimer: This is very dumb and some of these are stretches/I just completely gave up so don't take it seriously. Also I'm stopping at 1.6, so no Penacony. Maybe I'll make a sequel in the future.

Under a read-more bc this is a lot of people.

Trailblazer, Physical: Baseball bat hit body, ouch

Trailblazer, Fire: They wanted that really cool imagery of us helping to melt the Eternal Freeze

March 7th, Ice: Her whole thing is she was found in Six-Phased Ice

Dan Heng, Wind: Spear go woosh through the air, it's also called Cloud Piercer which sounds pretty windy to me

Asta, Fire: That spectrum beam looks like it would burn you pretty bad

Arlan, Lightning: I am fairly certain his skill is him electrocuting himself for the extra adrenaline

Natasha, Physical: Massive bullet hit body, ouch

Pela, Ice: I think it's just bc she's with the Silvermane Guards, nothing about her attacks scream "ice" to me

Hook, Fire: Diggertron produces flames (seriously who let her keep that thing)

Serval, Lightning: Music is electrifying (also that's an electric guitar)

Qingque, Quantum: Digital = quantum in HSR and celestial jade tiles are digital (...I'm pretty sure)

Herta, Ice: I guess the diamond is cold...and looks like ice...? Maybe they're linking crystals with ice bc of how they look

Tingyun, Lightning: Yeah I got nothing. Most of her animations don't even have lightning anywhere in them?

Sushang, Physical: Big sword hit body, ouch

Sampo, Wind: Blades go woosh through the air

Himeko, Fire: That massive laser DEFINITELY burns

Clara, Physical: Big robot punch body, ouch

Bronya, Wind: Small bullet go woosh through the air (it's straight up called Windrider Bullet)

Gepard, Ice: The shield he makes is a massive wall of ice like. My god man.

Bailu, Lightning: Resuscitation requires electricity (also water isn't a type but if it was...)

Yanqing, Ice: His swords seem to be made of ice (also he needed the Jingliu parallels)

Welt, Imaginary: If those black holes were real then...wouldn't everything just be gone...? (idk HI3 lore so I might be missing smth)

Seele, Quantum: Girl moves so fast it breaks quantum physics

Jing Yuan, Lightning: Two words. Lightning-Lord.

Silver Wolf, Quantum: Everything she does is digital, also aether editing probably breaks quantum physics too

Luocha, Imaginary: Those spirit-like things in his ultimate just seem imaginary, also he just radiates the colour yellow which doesn't explain anything but it's all I got

Yukong, Imaginary: Gonna be real idk, that bow looks pretty real, I'm kind of wondering why she isn't wind (probably the severe lack of imaginary characters at the time she came out)

Blade, Wind: They had to make it clear he's connected to Dan Heng yk? Also his swords probably go woosh through the air

Kafka, Lightning: Her strings have a similar colour to the lightning icon and so does her general design, it would be weird for her to be anything else. Also there's lightning in her animations so something is producing it

Luka, Physical: Big metal fist hit body, ouch (this boy wants to be fire so bad)

Dan Heng IL, Imaginary: He's basically controlling that water with his mind, right?

Fu Xuan, Quantum: Idk how to word it but. Quantum just makes sense here like I have no questions about it but I can't explain it. Edit: The Matrix of Prescience is a supercomputer tysm for reminding me!!!

Lynx, Quantum: Literally nothing about Lynx feels quantum like her weapon is an ice pick and her healing stuff is physical objects...do you think Lynx and Pela are such good besties that they swapped types?

Jingliu, Ice: Look at that really cool ice sword

Topaz and Numby, Fire: Numby creates so much friction spinning like that it burns the enemy lmao (also the blaster Topaz uses might use lasers? It looks like a mix of money and some sort of beam)

Guinaifen, Fire: Girlie is literally throwing firecrackers at her enemies

Huohuo, Wind: If she waves that flag fast enough she creates a little gust of wind!

Argenti, Physical: Big spear hits multiple bodies, ouch (ignore the roses)

Hanya, Physical: This is the only physical character I can't explain like she's hitting her enemies with ink and chains that didn't exist two seconds ago...I think HYV just don't wanna give siblings the same type but she could've been imaginary

Ruan Mei, Ice: ...Maybe it matches her personality? Or it's a women of the Genius Society thing?

Dr. Ratio, Imaginary: Nobody actually believes the building he's dropping is real, right?

Xueyi, Quantum: This is another one that I can't put into words but just makes sense to me, something about the chains just materialising and the colours

TL;DR - If in doubt, look at their weapon and how they use it, except sometimes that doesn't explain anything either (if that's the case...look at their hair colour maybe...?)

Feel free to offer corrections or further explanations bc obviously I don't have everyone so I'm mostly going off what I can see from their animations

[bridgyrose]

can i ask for some fiery whiterose? something about weiss calling cinder “so obsessed with them two that the only way she knows to deal with it is by chasing them through remnant” bc she’s done with playing around with their feelings?

(Lets do something a bit more... subtle, shall we?)

“Are you really that obsessed with us that you have to chase us across Remnant?” Weiss yelled out as she put up a glyph to block a fireball from Cinder. “If you want us that badly, then why dont you finally ask us out?”

Cinder slammed her sword against the glyph, shattering it and getting pushed back as the flames under her feet started to waiver for a moment. “What are you talking about?” 

“Why else have you been following us?” Ruby asked as she sliced her scythe blade through the sand of the Vacuo desert to put up a barrier between them and Cinder. “There has to be another way to tell us your feelings-” 

“I dont love you!” Cinder yelled out in a fiery rage as black smoke left her mouth. She swiped her hand out at the sand, superheating it into glass with a blast of flames. “I hate you! I loathe you! I want you all out of my way and gone! And I will make you suffer until you’re finally dead!” 

Weiss quickly moved out of the way as the glass Cinder created exploded, shards of heated glass pelting her left arm as her aura started to shimmer from the impact. “There has to be a better way! There’s no way you hate us enough to follow us across Remnant just to kill us!” 

“If you’re going to die, I want it to be by my hand!” 

Weiss’ eyes widened as she watched Cinder create a spear of glass and fire in her hand, her body shaking as she remembered what had happened at Haven. The scar on her side started to burn as she remembered how it felt to have the spear pierce into her, the heat from the fire burning into her, the way her blood felt like it was boiling as it touched the spear. All she could do was close her eyes and brace for impact, knowing her aura wouldnt be able to withstand that kind of impact from Cinder. She held her breath for a second… two seconds… three seconds… waiting for the piercing pain. 

Weiss opened her eyes as she heard the soft *thud* of the spear hitting the sand next to her. Rose petals and embers swirled in the air around her as her eyes moved to a hole in Ruby’s cloak that smoldered from the heat of the spear, then towards Cinder who looked like she was shaking as she gripped her grimm arm. 

“Forget I was here,” Cinder said in a half growl as she turned around. “You dont have anything I want anyway.” 

“You… you can still come with us,” Weiss said quietly. 

Cinder paused in her step. “And why would I do that?” 

“Because you know Salem doesnt treat you right,” Ruby answered, staying in front of Weiss. “And it’ll give you a chance to be better.” 

Cinder rolled her eyes and continued walking. “Next time, you wont be so lucky.” 

Weiss sighed and slowly dropped to her knees as her legs gave out from under her. Her heart raced as she watched the spear disappear out of the corner of her eye. “Maybe… maybe I was wrong…” 

Ruby shook her head and knelt down next to Weiss. “No, I dont think you were. We’ll help her.”

[miss-k-lovenikki]

BTW while we're all bashing the new suits

Can i say i'm incredibly confused by the suit's themes ?

I might be missing stuff and perhaps the lore explains it but rn i don't get it

Like

First one is simple enough, we got a bishop that can summon flying weapons. Now what's up with the black gooey corrupted looking statue in the background ? Is she like... obeying the words of a false god ?

Personnal interpretation is that she's an important religious person hiding her true nature behind fake benevolence (with her white angelic wings and church like outfit representing her persona and the statue her true nature). However her power will soon be shattered (represented by the broken crystal swords in the back).

I think she's the most cohesive of the bunch. Though i don't like the halo being there bc, i find it distracting. Shouldn't our attention be on the main girl ? My eyes keep returning the halo instead since it has more colors and is darker than the rest

So we got a Wasteland... goddess ? (Idk she has a halo, so i guess ?) And she's holding a magical golden apple which... summons (?) a...catgirl genie...? Also there are a lot of squares everywhere and some of them are shattered.... for reasons. Also lots of stars.

I honestly don't understand wtf is going on here. I think there's too many things going on at once, and it doesn't feel coherent to me.

I don't know what to think of the color palette. At first glance i thought there was too much going on there too, but i think it's growing on me the longer i look at it. I do really like the hair and our main girl's outfit as well as the pose but that's it.

Personally i would have gotten rid of the catgirl, the sun-flame thing, the broken squares and the stars.

Shooting star weaver. Nice theme in theory but some of the execution is eeeh. The loom is distinctive enough. Actually is she weaving shooting stars or snowflakes ? Because both of these are there so idk. I don't understand the boats either. Looking at the unposed version i also don't get why she has broken shards on her arms.

I've said it an hour ago and i'll say it again : i hate this hair color. It clashes horribly with everything else. The makeup is uncanny but i like her outfit and the way she waving her finished scarf thing. I don't like its pattern tho, as its strict angles clashes with the rest of the suit which is pretty light and elegant.

And last but not least the... hmm... the girl. Iiii have no idea what she's supposed to be.

The musical stuff around her spear suggests a musical theme but it doesn't feel really present anywhere else. Although i'm getting choir vibes from the headress and the cape. The head of her spear looks like maybe a lyre ? She's wearing a chestplate so with the spear i guess she's a fighter... And then she's summoning a lily and i don't see the link to the rest. Neither the lily or the music themes appear on her magic circle/square thing so it looks out of place too.

I think her spear has something weird going on with the perspective but i can't quite put my finger on what.

---

Overall with all of these i think there were good ideas but they were lost in the soup. It's generally confused and if there seem to be a global theme of broken shards and maybe religion to link them together i find it poorly executed everytime. Like it was slapped there as an afterthought.

[soft-potatoe]

sooo I wrote another fairy-tale dreamling one-shot thingy and decided to also post it on here:)

It's called:

"Can my heart beat for you?"

Read on AO3

btw I got the idea for this fic bc I saw a hare while walking the dog and was like "Dream as black shadow hare would slap though, magnificent beasts" lol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's a good day to hunt.

The dawning sun red in the clear sky, the moon a thread-thin sickle still hanging about the horizon.

A harsh east-wind sweeps through the village, plays with Hob's hair as he steers his horse towards the woods. It's the third day now, that he's away from home, with the memory of Eleanor's lips warm on his own and Robyn's hands tightly clasped around his leg.

"Don't go", he'd cried out.

"What if you die? What if-".

Hob regrets it now, as he sees the first spurs of fog creeping out between the steep walls of the valley, that he just loosend his grip and left Eleanor to console their sobbing child. That he didn't turn around as he rode away.

But when the King promises you your weight in gold and enough land for a prospering farm you don't think twice about sharpening your sword and restringing your bow.

You don't listen to the stories they tell in the pubs. About the fog and the beast that came with it.

They say that it swam over the canal, that it was seen in Dover, a dark shadow in the white fog over the meadows, that now made itself a home in Victoria's ravine.

Most of them agree that this beast, this monstrum, sprang from the earth in the unbothered darkness of the Transsilvanian forests.

They're sure that this hellish creature, a daemon or the devil himself, made it's way through the european mainland just to haunt the ravine near their village, full of firs and spruces, so densely overgrown and infested with nettles and thistles that they never dared to set foot in it in the first place.

Hob would've laughed at those stories at these fairy tales spun by bored and drunk men. Of a beast that is formed from shadow and clads itself in fog thick as milk.

If not, well, if not the King's noblest knights had set out to slay the beast and had vanished along with their servants and their horses.

Then and there the hunt had begun.

They hounded dogs into the valley, sent in men with torches and ropes tied around their bodies, and when the dogs didn't return to their masters' call and the ropes fell slack to the ground, they called for the Bishop and for the heavenly father above.

Only the Bishop answered though and commanded them to flood the valley with fire, as the hellish creature should burn in holy flames.

The old woman in the pub said that the valley burned for three nights and three days.

And that they waited for it to flee from it's lair. With their spears and swords raised, blessed by the word of the priest. They waited and watched in horror as the ash rose and the fog stayed.

The Bishop had made the sign of the cross, declared the beast to be one of god's punishements for the lowly sinners in the villages around and disappered to his plush castle, far away at the seaside.

And then well, then the King, stricken with rage and grief, one of the missing knights was rumoured to be his paramour, had set out a price, a price so high that Hob had run for his horse and barely said his goodbyes.

Maybe he should have. He starts to wonder, now that his trusted horse refuses to take another step towards the ravine. Maybe he should just turn around. Fall into Eleanor's arms, play with Robyn by the fire.

But something pushed him forward, be it foolish greed or foolish courage. And the fog welcomed him, with a cold and clammy embrace."

<-->

Lynn clears their throat and takes a sip of water.

A nervous and shy smile creeps onto their face as they notice that they've gained the undivided attention of their classmates and their teacher.

<-->

"So eh- yeah. Uhm- he followed the trail that cursed men had walked before him, over scorched earth and through the black corpses of once mighty trees.

There's this eerie silence that you only hear in burnt forests, not yet dead, but far from alive. It sends shivers down your spine and paints shadow into the corners of your eyes, shadows that elude you when you face them, that spring away as soon as you turn your head.

And he wades through heaps of ash, sword already in his hand, with the dull feeling in his chest that it's already too late, that he's already been caught in the web, the spider already watching from beyond the trees amusing itself at his struggle for life."

<-->

Someone audibly whimpers and Lynn's head shoots up from their hunched over position, their eyes frantically searching around the room.

"Eh that was me, sorry Lynn." Kyra in the second row grimaces apologetically and nervously ducks her head to the side. "Please continue."

Lynn takes a deep breath and looks back down.

<-->

"But he still follows the trail, keeps his head up and lightly humms to himself to keep the silence at bay. Soon. He tells himself. Soon I will sing lullabys to Robyn at a chimney that never runs cold, eat from plates that never run empty and sleep in the fine linnen of the lords.

And when the sun begins to set and the shadows creep under the fog and start to linger in the corner of his eye, that's when he shoots his first arrow. It hits a treestump with a dull thud and the shadow it passed through doesn't flee Hob's eyes this time.

It's a hare that stares at him with eyes that burn darkness through the night. It springs away, away from the trail, sweeps through the heaps of ash, Hob stumbling after it in a dazed frenzy.

It wait's for him, let's him catch up, sits on a tree stump and curiously tilts its head to the side. Its body flows away at the edges, nearly becoming one with the dark ground beneath.

Hob shoots another arrow and the hare starts to laugh.

It's a laugh that halls to the heavens and bores into the underworld.

A laugh like thunder in a summer storm. A laugh that only the truly powerful can afford, that only those without fear get to cry out between tears.

That leaves you with ringing ears and dread in your bones."

<-->

Lynn stops for a moment to breathe deeply in and out.

<-->

" "Come on brave hunter," the shadow croons.

"Shoot another one, make sure to hit the heart."

"You have no heart." Hob responds and raises his sword.

"But you do." The shadow sighs. "You do and you don't use it. None of you ever do."

"I-" , Hob stammers.

"Did your heart not tell you to turn around?" The hare asks and throws its head back.

When Hob looks at it again he sees a fox, stalking towards him.

"Does it now not scream at you to run away?" It asks and slowly draws a circle around him.

"It tells me-" Hob lies. "-that I should kill you."

The fox sits down before him, tail swaying left and right. It bares its teeth, almost like a human would.

"Let's make a bargain." Hob says. "You let me go and I let you live."

"I did not invite you in, Hob Gadling, only guests deserve to leave."

"And monsters deserve to die."

"I would not be a monster-" the shadow says and tilts its head.

"-if I had your heart."

"Take it then." Hob answers. "Give me something better."

"Greedy."

The fox answers and becomes a man.

Towering over Hob, with shadows clouding his eyes and a face made of fog, made of hard lines and a sharp smile around his lips.

Hob remembers the shadow's face when he wakes up and the fog is gone.

He remembers it when he walks out the valley and his horse storms away. When he gets to the village and they run in fear.

He remembers the stone that the beast gave him, red and glowing from light within.

He remembers the strangers smile when he looks down and sees the scar on his chest."

<-->

Lynn stops and looks around the classroom that now errupts in applause.

The teacher, Mr. Golding, clears his throat and springs up from his chair.

"Bra-vo," he over ennunciates and slowly claps while walking up to the front.

"Now see kids, this is what that assignement was about, bringing old fairy tales to life eh-, uhm excellent work Lynn, also with the choice of your story, haven't heard the tale of Hob Gadling in a while."

Mr. Golding continues and scratches his beard. It's getting a bit too stubbly now, he should probably shave it tonight.

The bell rings and the students nearly immediatly rush out of the classroom and he doesn't even attempt to stop them.

It's their last period after all, and a very hot friday on top of that. Soon they will crowd the local swimming pool, lie in the sun and forget all about ancient tales and creepy shadows.

Only Mr. Golding stays behind, watches them leave, stares at the wall of the classroom until the last cheerfull screams fade away from the hallway.

There's a knock on the door and his partner, Dream as he calls him, walks in. It's not like he needed to knock, Golding can tell by now, when he's lurking around.

"My love-" Dream says and glides toward the desk, puts his hand's over Goldings's cheeks and stares down into his eyes

"-what ails you on this wonderful day?"

"Remember the creative writing assignement I gave my 8th graders?"

Dream nods.

"Well, someone rewrote a tale, old as time, about a greedy peasant that traded his heart for a stone, a ruby, to be precicse. Oh and this ehh shadow beast from transsylvania."

Dream stares at him and then starts to laugh. A laugh that could part clouds and reach to the stars. The laugh of the free.

"Was it good?" Dream asks.

"It was fantastic-"

"Mhmh" Dream humms.

"They gave me a wife and a child."

"Did they now, Hob?" Dream asks and presses a kiss under his jaw.

"Other than that it was pretty spot-on actually, well, except the ending." Hob answers and wraps his arms around his partners waist.

"They got that tremendously wrong.", he continues.

"Good."

Dream whispers and rubs absentmindedly over his chest.

"No one needs to know that one heart can beat for two."

[reineyday]

I wanna know about 1 and 2 on that list of wips!

!!! the billy ones!!!

billy has the right to be mad at the party for not even trying to save him

uhh this one is (was?) a wip that im trying to reorganize. i wanted it to be a s4 au where eddie, nance, steve & rob are in the upside down like canon, and find billy there. when billy shows himself to be knowledgeable about the area, what's been going on, and on vecna, both nancy and steve start talking to him like he's automatically gonna help them and then billy's like "uh no fuck you, get out yourselves." and it's shooting himself in the foot bc theyre he didnt even know he could leave till they showed up, but also he's had months and months alone in this hell with the guy who possessed him, and plenty of time to relive the way nancy and steve came at him with their cars and their guns so fuck them. he ends up helping cuz he's bot stupid and wants out but stull yknow. he'll be mad about it. it's still harringrove tho LOL.

my first draft of this accidentally turned into this billy & eddie friendship short fic by mistake (which u commented on! thank u!). actually, answering this really helped me out w figuring out the plot better so double thanks! 🥰

knock knock bitch

IVE BEEN SO EXCITED ABT THIS IDEA RECENTLY LOL it's a crack-taken-seriously fic that starts in max's scene with vecna in "dear billy" where she's up against the wall in that house with vecna's hand up against her face, and before he gets her or she escapes, billy's voice interrupts with a loud "KNOCK KNOCK BITCH," actually knocking on what passes for a door in the upside down creel house door, and then he comes in with a hairspray flamethrower and vecna roars like "not you AGAIN" but billy's already spraying flames at vecna and grabbing max's wrist and running.

she's panicked and confused, and then gets more panicked and confused when billy starts yelling to head over to base three and she's like??? what??? but then notices he's not yelling at her and she looks up to see chrissy cunningham, fred benson and patrick mckinney--the coma kids???--running and keeping pace with her and billy, and they all have their own makeshift weapons (billy's got an axe strapped to his back, chrissy also has a hairspray flamethrower and a bat on her back, patrick's got a crowbar and a broken hockey stick fashioned into some sort of spear, and fred has?? a crossbow????), and they all seem to know where theyre running.

there's more plot about how jason ends up starting his witch hunt against eddie and the living statuses of all of them, but yeah, the premise is that billy's been running around in the upside down being a general asshole to vecna and saving the s4 gate kids and teaching them how to survive, and ive become attached to their weapons and the kinds of conversations they have at night. they work out together to keep their cardio up. billy and patrick have talked about their abusive parents. chrissy's taught them all cheer maneouvers that have helped them get out of tight spots. fred has an archery hobby cuz i think he'd be best at long range considering how he's the only one that's not a jock lol.

max is the one that finally brings in the knowledge of how they might be able to get back to their bodies--theyve been stuck in comas, some of them with a gnarly twisted limb or two, but otherwise fine--and they start questioning how billy's there, and if he has a body in a coma too that no one knows about. 👀 havent figured out what to do about the music element waking them up thing yet tho, since max & the party already know about it at that point, and that would end the coma plot point early... yeah.

thanks for asking!!! and for always replying so kindly to my comments on ao3 lol i know u fielded a whole bunch of them just recently. cheers!!

[strwberri-milk]

Hi!!! Just wondering what are your head cannons of which bands and music Kaeya likes.

Like for me he absolutely loves The Weeknd.

Also I love your writing and I hope you have a good day<3

i just realised this doesnt really feel long requesty for me omg i could have just answered point blank but!! here's what i got for him :D i'm also totally biased bc. these are the songs im just seeing him looking absolutely ethreal in in an mv grrr

I definitely think Kaeya has a pretty diverse taste in music. I do definitely see The Weeknd on there! I think he might lean more towards some of the more slow-paced/sensual songs because he seems like someone who really enjoys "feeling" the music as cheesy as it sounds. I'm thinking nostalgic/late night drives with the windows down vibes!

Specifcally to that regard I'm seeing Moth to a Flame or Is There Someone Else? if we're doing The Weeknd specifically.

While he does lean that way I also think he had a temporary teenage angst phase in middle school and fell into the P!ATD/FOB scene. He'll probably retain some of it and I'm hearing that he still likes to listen to Too Weird to Live Too Wicked to Die every once in a while when he wants a blast of nostalgia.

Definitely loved the dance-pop/EDM stage of the 2010s. I'm talking Cascada, Britney Spears, the works. Anything he can pop his pancake booty to.

Please put me in a car with him I think we'd have a blast singing to old top 40s.

[kirnet]

trying to write something semi serious about characters named bajablast and crunchwrap supreme. horrifically out of character bc i dont know these people yet. <1k words

“I don’t like animals.”

She already hated the damn thing, spent the whole journey back holding it an arm’s length away by the scruff as it spat and clawed at her. Never mind that it was newly orphaned and almost ripped apart by jackals, Hifusa had saved its hide and she expected a little gratitude.

Skribyld watched helplessly as the kitten shrank deeper into the corner, puffed up like a dandelion. “The Yellowjackets are not fit to care for a full grown coeurl,” he sighed, already imagining a new recruit trying to ride it around the barracks only to be shredded to ribbons. “My friend-“

“I don’t want it.”

“- I leave this baby coeurl in your capable hands.” Skribyld skirted around the thing until Hifusa was the closest person to it. “You are the adventurer here. You may go anywhere you wish, and I know that you have a fierceness to match this creature.”

Hifusa shifted for the first time, the wood of her heavy spear digging between her shoulder blades. Everyone was always pawning off their issues onto her, like it was her job description or something. At least the coin purse tied to her belt felt comfortably heavier. She stepped forward, noticed how Skribyld’s shoulders tensed a fraction, and crouched in front of the kitten. Blood still matted its spotted fur. Spittle flecked her hand as she reached out and picked it up by the scruff again, her bored expression never changing as it fought to tear out a piece of her arm. Hifusa shrugged, the kitten bobbing with the gesture. “I’ll keep it for when food is scarce.”

Skribyld paled. “I- very well. Best of luck. Now, I have other matters to attend to.” He cleared his throat, saluted, turned stiffly on his heel and marched away, no doubt to stand in some other hidden corner until she had left.

-

“What’s the story with the coeurl?”

Hifusa expertly ignored him as she tended to the fire, the hours before of one-sided silence the perfect practice for this moment. Thancred blew out an exaggerated sigh, no amount of malice in his voice as he flattened his bedroll. “Fascinating.”

They were camped on some desert bluff, the glow of Camp Drybone’s aetherite crystal visible over the horizon. They were here to ambush someone, or be ambushed, Hifusa hadn’t listened to the explanation. She was here now, it was something to do, and she got paid, so if Thancred understood the operation she had no reason to start tuning in now. Besides, someone needed to think about supper. She skewered pieces of myotragus steaks onto thin sticks, tossing the kitten a hunk of raw meat before putting the kebab into the coals. The kitten leapt and snatched it up midair, landing back in the sand in a flurry of claws.

“Figures you’d have a cat. You just seem like a cat person,” Thancred continued when his first remark was answered with stony silence. “Quiet, more introspective. Though, if I must be honest, Hifusa, you hardly strike me as the type for company at all. Why do you take it with you?”

“Because it doesn’t ask me inane questions,” she grumbled, washing her hands in a bowl of water from a stagnant lake nearby.

“Ah! So you can speak!” Thancred’s laugh was like birdsong as Hifusa bristled. The expression he wore was entirely too smug. “I mean no offense. I respect the little guy. You know it tried to join your fight with Ifrit? Took a Flame to hold it back.” Added under his breath, “Almost at the cost of his arms.”

If Hifusa was capable of smiling, she might have. Instead she tossed the kitten an onion to bat around as she worked on prepping the vegetables. Already the beast had started to grow, its limbs lengthening and whisker appendages sprouting from its muzzle. In a few months it would surely be too large to ride on her shoulder anymore, not that she ever allowed it to. If Thancred felt Hifusa’s silent pride, she felt his shame wafting into the air with the smoke. The unsaid “The runt was more useful than me.” Hifusa didn’t care to console him. Half-circles of onion spattered in a small pan.

The blissful silence did not last for long. “What’s his name?” Thancred slowly reached a finger out towards the kitten, only to snatch it back when it tried to take everything before the knuckle.

“Doesn’t have one.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Hifusa had nothing to say to that, so she didn’t. The kitten, now bored of the paper shreds it had made from the onion, curled up beside her, its back soaking up the heat from the fire.

The light danced in Thancred’s eyes as he watched. “Mistress Ba’jablast, I apologize for the accusation, but something tells me you’re really soft at heart.”

He laughed throatily when she speared a vegetable, severing it clean in half. “Message received. I shall be silent for the remainder of the night, unless I must tell you how good your cooking will taste.”

Unfortunately he did, many times, even though Hifusa purposely burned the kebabs. He offered first watch and Hifusa accepted, her lance kept mere inches away. She lay back against her bedroll, single eye pointed to the stars, as the kitten curled itself under her chin, rumbling so powerfully the earth might have split open beneath them. “Get comfortable already you little bastard.” And then so quietly that she almost couldn’t hear her own voice, her lips pressed into orange fur: “Night, Crunch.”

Thancred thanked the darkness for hiding his victorious smile.

[foxy-not-pirate]

6,15, and 23 for the valentines ask game!

Alright so I decided to make these all PJO-HOO-TOA bc I can.

6-What is that angstiest (?spelling can fuck off and die) ship you like? I really like valgrace for angst specifically because it’s so specifically doomed to fail, and yet! And yet! They love each other so strongly, to the point of letting themselves die so the other doesn’t have to. Because that’s always what they do, isn’t it? Jason is the perfect little soldier, just a weapon for the gods, for his father. He fights because it’s all he knows, and then come Leo and Piper. And for once, he doesn’t fight to destroy. No, now he fights to protect.

And Leo is disposable, he knows it. He’s a flame, he helps those in need until it burns him out, he gets too tired, and he’s extinguished. Sometimes he can get rest, rekindle that spark, and keep going. But most of the time, he eats sugar and drinks Monster, like adding fatwood to a fire until it’s gone, and he sparks out, to sleep for a week straight and then do it all again.

But together, they care strongly enough about keeping the other happy and safe to return after each battle, each failed experiment, and get some rest, eat a real meal, not whatever snacks they have stashed in the lab or the forge or the scouting positions. They know it won’t last, but they take every moment of peace, grateful and greedy.

And then Leo dies. He doesn’t really, but Jason doesn’t know that. And Jason is so, so very tired. He no longer has any attachment to the mortal realm, he believes that once he Piper broke up with him, she hates him, his best friend (Nico) has a boyfriend and two sisters and is mending his relationship with Percy. His sister never visits, and why should she? He failed her (no he didn’t). Everything is a mess and the only person who ever truly needed him, loved him is dead. (No he’s not. He’s in Indianapolis with a new identity)

If a soldier has no one to fight for, what’s he good for? Nothing. So he throws himself in front of a spear, and trusts that if he’s needed once he’s gone, Nico will drag him back to life by the ear. And he will join his love in Elysium and have eternal peace.

But he gets there, and no-one has seen his love. So he can’t help but wonder whether Leo has gone to be a Shade, and thinks that he must, because no one would dare to say that his Leo, his precious little spitfire, could ever be sentenced to eternal punishment. (Leo is alive. Alive and mourning, with his sister, with Piper, with Reyna and Frank and Hazel and even Apollo and all of the demigods whose lives he’s improved.)

Eventually Jason can’t stand it anymore and goes on to live his second life. A soldier cannot stand at attention for an eternity, and he needs variety. Later that year, Leo dies. Maybe he’s 20 or 30 or older. He asks about Jason upon his arrival, and finds that he just recently chose rebirth. He mourns a bit, but decides the best thing to do is follow.

oof that was supposed to be short but turned into an entire fic sorry.

moving on, number 15- the first ship I liked for pjo was absolutely percabeth. Simple, vanilla ship. I don’t have much to say lol.

23- a ship I like because of fans. personally, I like Connor/Malcolm. I’m a big fan of fleshing out super small characters and then smushing them together, and these two are perfect for that.

[haztory]

hi mcdonald’s can i get uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nanami + “nice tits”

“Nice tits.” from my writing event that ends today! 

 warnings: adult language and sexual themes, but that’s about it!

a/n: 3k words all for sanju that probably strays from the prompts but its fine bc i love you biiiiitch. thanks to everyone that requested a prompt! they will be out momentarily!!

nanami kento x gn!reader

There’s a universal understanding amongst the adults in the general realm of well-formed maturity and a sense of responsibility that there is no situation to ever exist in which listening to Gojo Satoru’s advice is a viable option. 

Much less any advice about love.

“You know,” His voice sings to your left, interrupting the tranquil silence of your office by his surprise warping, “If you needed help in satisfying your urges, you only had to ask. Looking at porn during school hours is a bit of a cry for help, (Y/N).”

“Go away, Gojo.” You reply, hardly perturbed at his unannounced visit and continuing the matter at hand. Your index finger continues its motions, pushing the wheel of the mouse downwards and studying the plethora of Google Search images the float past your eyes on your computer monitor.

Gojo leans his elbow on your desk, perching himself on the left side of your body, “Hey, I don’t judge! I’ve done it once or twice myself. I just always pictured you as more of an ass-person.”

Landing on an appropriate image for your task you click it, enlarging it on your screen. Gojo whistles.

“Now that’s just obscene, isn’t it?”

A finger enters your line of sight, pointing itself obnoxiously at the screen, specifically at the rather large pectoral belonging to that of a male model. An image that is necessary for your study of a new cursed technique that you witnessed on your last excursion with Nobara, and not at all the focus of sexual release as Gojo might insist. Even if they are rather admirable in their size. 

You would rather die before ever telling him that, though.

“They should really put a warning on those honkers—”

“Is there a reason you’re bothering me?” You ask bluntly, printing the image and retrieving it from the printer tray beside you.

“I just wanted to see what my second favorite teacher was doing, but never did I think I would catch you in the act of making a shrine to tits, so—”

You roll your head to the left, meeting Gojo’s shit-eating grin with a deadpan stare. With a sigh, you shake your head, “I’m studying.”

Even beneath the blindfold, you can see the waggle in his brows as he props his head on the bent elbow. “Oh suuure.”

Huffing impatiently, you swivel your desk chair to face him, placing a singular finger on his chest to push him back from your immediate space. He only continues to grin in his usual unabashed manner, as though he’s caught you red-handed. It makes you roll your eyes once more.

 You didn’t need to explain yourself; it wasn’t like you were doing anything immoral. Sure, staring at a number of pectoral muscles might seem inappropriate to the passing eye, but it was easily explainable. 

But as it always is with Gojo, he manages to rub that small part of you that just has to fight back. Fuckin’ prick. “We came across a cursed technique two days ago that targeted the chest. It caused—”

Gojo waves his hand in your face, “Seismic tremors in the pectoral muscles that affected a cursed energy point, yeah, yeah. Nobara told me all about it.”

“If you knew what I was doing why are you making me sound like such a creep?!” You exclaim, kicking his chest with the heel of your shoe. He catches your foot with a laugh, dropping it and holding his index finger upward.

“Because it’s fun to tease you.”

Huffing, you turn back to your monitor and point at the door, “Leave.”

“Oh, come onnn,” He warps in front of your computer, leaning himself over the top of the screen, “I’ve brought you a little gift of knowledge to help your studying.”

Even as he desperately tries to insert his gangly arms into your line of vision, you continue typing into the search bar. Some variations of “pectoral”, “muscles”, and “large men”. For research purposes, of course.

“Oh yeah?” You ask noncommittally, knowing full well the manner in which Gojo dangles his plots of mischief disguised as help, “And what would that be?”

Smiling largely once more, he lets out a giggle, “The larger the muscle, the more potent the attack on the cursed energy.”

Sparing him a quick glance, you mumble, “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”

“No, but it does take a genius to figure out how to reverse the effects.”

He stops the statement there; grin audible in his words. After having spent years in the presence of the obnoxious Gojo Satoru, you already know there’s an ulterior motive to his words, something that is going to bite you in the ass rather aggressively.

And as much as you want to avoid being in the line of fire, especially the one directed by him, you’re simultaneously dying to know where this is going.

You hesitate to ask, but it comes out. Dripping in all of its cautiousness. “And?”

“And it also takes a willing participant to study.” His smile, in all impossibility, became even wider.

“I’m still not getting the picture.”

“A participant with rather large pectoral muscles.”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Someone who would willingly participate for the sake of education.”

Of all the people to have figured out about your (not so) little crush on a fellow sorcerer, it had to be the world’s largest idiot and nuisance. You had to end this, now. Before he does something so irrevocably stupid— 

“Shall we go ask Nanami?”

And that’s how you find yourself flushed with absolute mortification, gripping your clipboard with tight knuckles against your chest, wondering how you ever managed to forget the utmost important rule when it comes to Gojo Satoru.

Never listen to him, especially on the matter of love. 

Maybe that’s indicative of the state of your crush as a whole, something you should probably pay more attention to, seeing as the minute Nanami Kento was mentioned, you’ve forgotten the extent of logic and reason and followed the whims of Gojo without hesitation. 

It’s problematic, horrifying, and ultimately a monumental issue at the moment considering your mouth is as dry as a desert and your brain absolute mush, rendering you completely unable to formulate any words.

“Wow, Nanami,” Gojo shamelessly says, one hand shoved in his pocket as he stands beside your frozen figure, “Nice tits.”

Nanami hums unenthusiastically, unbuttoning the last button on his blue shirt and elegantly removing it from his large, muscular frame. Folding it neatly on the expanse of the couch beside him, he turns his stoic gaze back to you, hardly even concerned about his half-nakedness. 

Whereas you felt yourself almost drooling at the revealed expanse of firm muscles peppered with sparse hair. The fact that it was that easy to get to see this, to almost be able to touch it— 

Maybe listening to Gojo isn’t a bad idea after all.

“Shall we begin?” Nanami asks, pulling his glasses off of his face with his (large) hands and folding them on top of his shirt. A strand of blond falls onto the front of his face and his gaze trails from the impassive stare at Gojo, to you. 

And by all that is sweet and holy you swear that you’ve ascended to an ethereal plane and before you sits an angel waiting to take you to the pearly gates. No longer stares a man unamused at the teasing of the white-headed idiot beside you, but instead a celestial being with a body made of pure stone and dare you say, looking at you with a tenderness in his gaze that was absent only a moment before.

An elbow digs into your side, pulling you rather dramatically out of your stupor and towards the smug grin of the man beside you. 

“Well?” Gojo asks, “If you’re not going to touch him, I will.”

“Thank you, Gojo, but I can take it from here,” You all but hiss, pushing him once more away from your body, accompanying the action with a pointed glare. Beginning a backward trek towards the door, he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright. I can see when I’m not wanted. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Opening the door and stepping out of it, he halts, turning his head to look over his shoulder and says, voice coated in that familiar tone of teasing, “Remember to use condoms, lovebirds!”

He shuts the door quickly, hardly giving you a chance to spear your ire at his retreating figure, but you have half a mind to chase him down the hall when you hear his echoing laughter ring out. 

An awkward silence settles between you and the man of your horrid fascination that not even an uncomfortable laugh can ease. Clearing your throat and trying to remember your sense of professionalism, you straighten your shoulders and take a deep breath, facing the handsome man with a confidence that was growing incredibly difficult to face. 

“I’m going to touch you. For research. Your chest, specifically.”

In a move you’ve never quite seen before, Nanami sheds that formidable air of quiet stoicism and lets a small smile grace the features of his face. It gently pushes against the corners of his mouth and his bare shoulders move the slightest bit with the exhalation of his amused breath. 

“For the tremors in the pectoralis.” He says, leaning his body to rest against the backing of the couch, straightening his legs wearing their usual tan slacks to rest naturally in the position and hands folding in his lap. 

You gulp. “Y-yes.”

“I read your report.”

“You did?”

“I always do,” With his eyes still trained upon yours you can see them widen a bit at the realization of what he’s said as if that were an intimate detail he hadn’t meant to make you aware of. He quickly brings his fist up to his mouth, clearing his throat, “You are one of the few sorcerers here that fill them out correctly. I learn a great deal from your detailing. It’s… very helpful. You’re very thorough.”

Blinking repeatedly, you only nod at the compliment. Despite wanting to combust internally at the growing flames that burn inside of you, you take a step forward. Then another until, in an unforeseen reversal of circumstances, you’re towering over the man of great strength and respect. The man you’ve admired for the longest time.

The man that continues to stare at you with a softness you’ve never seen him reveal before. 

You can see the spattering of freckles that have intricately placed themselves over his broad shoulders resembling that of an artistic constellation and the delicious protruding of his biceps, great in mass yet telling of his of strength as your try to conservatively trail your eyes over his torso.

He’s beautiful, incredibly so. Baring himself to you in this way only affirms that.

 “Thank you,” you breathe out, and it’s more intimate than you intended it to be, but truthfully, it’s as fitting a phrase as it can be considering the proximity and the intensity behind his stare.

It’s all you can give him without crumbling at his feet. Placing your fingertips against his shoulder, you gently push him back, silently instructing him to lay on the couch. He follows suit like the dutiful sorcerer he is.

“I’ll just be examining the way in which your cursed energy extends from your chest. It shouldn’t hurt, but if you feel uncomfortable, just let me know.”

He hums once more from his supine position on the couch. Despite being much larger than the couch allows, he hardly looks uncomfortable. Only watches the way in which you press your fingers into his chest, pushing into his muscle and slowly massaging your finger in a circle. You circle around the left side, trailing around the outer edge of the muscle and above the rib cage, stopping and pressing rather firmly when you feel a surge in an energy presence beneath the skin. Almost on the center of his chest.

You snort a quiet laugh when you realize where it is.

“Should I be worried?” His deep timbre vibrates your indented fingers drawing your focus to his interested stare. He looks relaxed, the usual crease between his brow hardly recognizable. A stark refute to the question he posed.

You quickly shake your head, smiling growing wryer, “No, not at all. I just… think it’s funny that your energy presence is strongest where your heart is.”

Nanami quirks an eyebrow, “Isn’t that the same for everyone?”

“Would it be much of a surprise if I told you Gojo’s comes from his mouth?”

Nanami rolls his head, a breathless laugh exhaling as he stares at the ceiling. “No, I guess it wouldn’t.”

“Everyone has a different point from which their energy roots itself. Each one gives a different feeling of sorts. It doesn’t really mean much in terms of power and technique, but it is noticeable. You have an overwhelming presence as is, I just…” Your shoulders drop with a sigh, one stemming desperately from loving admiration and instead try to disguise as just an exhalation, “…never realized it came from there. Kind of fitting if you ask me.”

His brows furrow in contemplation, unsure if whether he could accept the statement. Unsure of whether it was a fitting examination or compliment for him. He must deem it something insignificant of his ponderance because he quickly moves on.

“And yours?” He asks, alight with curiosity, “Where does yours come from?”

You hum, grateful to finally shed the last remnants of awkwardness and engage in the usual friendly conversation you tend to have with him. The brief discussions that always prod a little too close for friendly discovery, but never breach the line of professional respect. That self-imposed limitation that you desperately wish he’ll cross, that this conversation is once again coming toward.

“Take a guess.” Allowing that lilting tease to infiltrate your words, you watch as Nanami adjusts himself on the couch. Bracing his arms against the cushion, he pushes himself into a sitting position and crosses his arms. Trailing his eyes over your seated body next to him, he leaves a burning trail in his wake.

He fixates on your face for a second and your breath hitches, before he travels downward over the column of your neck, then your chest, to your legs. Drinking you in as per your consent and request. Then, he extends his hand. Palm facing upwards in a silent request. You understand.

Placing your own hand in his, he turns your hand upward, allowing full access to the center of your hand and tracing his finger over the lines.

“Your hands. That’s your center.” He says with finality, monotonous but confident. With a small smirk, he looks up at you, “You are a healer after all.”

You give a small nod, “I’m not sure if it comes from my fingertips or my palm, but yeah. My hands.”

Looking back down at your hand in his, he traces the finger in a circle, “Palm. That’s where I feel it the most.”

“What does it feel like?” You ask with a laugh, expecting something asinine and noncommittal considering Yuuji once said your presence felt like a cool wind on a summer’s day and Nobara insists that it feels like a warm shower.

Two entirely opposite feelings, yet somehow categorized in the schema of comfort. You hardly expect Nanami to give something so introspective, nor anything that reveals too much considering the extent to which he tends to maintain the boundary of respect in the conversations of explorations. The kind in which two people teeter on the thin ice of interest, yet never voice it.

And yet, his eyes connect with yours again, and it's entirely too overwhelming for you to process. Too interested, too warm. His face betrays no nervousness nor any hesitation as he stares, entirely convinced that this is what was meant to happen. As though he knew from the moment Gojo asked that it was going to unfold this way.

Like he prepared for it. Like he decided today was the day that he crossed that line.

“Home. Warm and comforting.”

Slow heat the creeps its way up your spine that makes your brain halt thought altogether and sputter intelligently, “Gojo’s kind of feels like… tar. Thick tar. Super gross.”

His hand, large and warm, encompasses your hand once more, lays it flat against his chest to feel both his exuding energy and the steady beat of his formidable heart.

“And mine?” He asks, low and gravelly. Like sweet honey that has you captured entirely, unable to escape. Not like you want to. No, you’d rather drown in this overwhelming redolence than ever live without it.

You don’t even realize your breathing heavily, nor that his face has gotten closer to yours. When did he move there? Did you move there?

Either way, his face is in front of yours, noses almost touching and the compulsion to answer him on the tip of your tongue.

“Addicting,” you whisper.

And then his lips are on yours, molding sweetly into you, and it's everything you have ever imagined it to be. Slow, yet firm. Warm and craving, and you can only fight for more, more, more.

His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you in impossibly closer and you place your hands on his bare chest, the great reason as to your current predicament entirely, to steady yourself and your erratic heartbeat. Time seems to slow in the passion of his kiss, and yet when he parts for air, you feel as though you only had him for a second.

All the months of pining could barely make up for that singular moment.

“I’ve been meaning to do that for a while,” He says, leaning his forehead against yours, breath fanning over your aching lips. You scoff in laughter, meeting his smile with one of your own.

So, maybe, just maybe, listening to Gojo wasn’t a bad idea. And maybe, sometimes, he’s right about some things.

“Hey Kento?”

“Yes?”

“You really do have nice tits.”

“Likewise.”

[whosjunglejim4322]

Alpha!Hybrid Au, SMUT, PWP, soft dom Yuta bc ur his baby, bestfriend!to lovers, arguing, pussy eating, jealousy, BREEDING KINK, unprotected sex (pls wrap ur willy), monster cock agenda

He's in trouble. The huge, colossal, has to hang his head in shame type of trouble. The worst part is that, he doesn't really feel bad about it, that kid had it coming and - fuck, no, he shouldn't think like that. But he can't fight the instinct, as hard as he tries.

"I'm so sorry, I really am I-" he stutters, trying to find the right words as you stomp away from him towards your room, continuing your maddening silent treatment that he knows only means he's really fucked up.

"I shouldn't have done...that, I know, I know." His voice is strained, desperate in his feat to prove his sincerity. It's nearly impossible to describe its magnitude when he has yet to admit how he really feels about you. It makes the whole situation that much worse.

"You...you actually growled at him, Yuta. Mark Lee. He's a friend of mine, a good friend! And you-" you've finally turned to face him, kicking your shoes off and slinging them to the nearest corner, your anger a tangible force. "you nearly scared him half to death!" You scold, still shivering at the thought.

He looks like a puppy whos just been reprimanded, no pun intended. He allows you to push past him to the kitchen, following behind you with urgent footsteps and continuing his pleads of understanding. This is eating at him in more ways than one.

"I couldn't help it, you know that-" you scoff, interrupting him while you turn to meet his wide, guilt ridden gaze.

"Don't give me that alpha bullshit." You know it's a low blow, probably the lowest you could muster but you're just so damn annoyed. He doesn't know what it's like to be a human so close to such a guttural sound as the one he used to establish dominance earlier tonight. It's like being next to a hellcat, the roar of an engine that reverberates throughout every bone in your body.

You'd been so shocked, so embarrassed for Mark that you hadn't even registered the fact that it licked such a hot flame inside of you, furthering your outburst and only igniting feelings that you shouldn't be having in the first place.

Your unrequited feelings for your best friend probably just add fuel to the fire, considering you're mostly angry at yourself for the way your body actually had the nerve to like the prospect of Yuta being jealous. You should be embarrassed.

"Hey, that’s not fair," He practically whines, losing his sanity with each passing second. "I'm not lying when I say that I couldn't help it." You know he's telling the truth, and he knows that he couldn't have fought it off even he wanted to.

He could smell Mark's change in scent whenever you laughed at one of his jokes, could see the way his eyes would linger on you whenever he thought no one could tell. It came to a head when the human boy actually had the audacity to slip an arm around you while in one of his laughing fits. The feeling was like a dam bursting, hot lava through his veins pushing the sound from within his chest.

You rip open the door of the fridge in search for a bottle of water, and he waits for your response, his heart pounding in his ears like thunder.

"He'll probably run for the hills next time he sees us, if he even wants to talk to me again at all considering the stunt you pulled-"

"Why is that such a bad thing?!" The words spill from his mouth like he hasn't got a choice, the truth so close to trickling off of his tongue. "He clearly has such an obvious, nauseating crush on you and actually thought he was being oblivious - he wanted his scent on you."

Yuta takes a step back, shoving his slim fingers into his raven hair before rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes, frustrated. Your heart suddenly thuds at an uneven pace in your chest, belly flipping wildly with a mixture of emotions.

Without even having to think about it you're stepping closer towards his trembling figure. He's got his fists clenched and you know his nails are likely digging into his palm, a habit formed from nervousness, or other emotions when they become too overwhelming for him.

"What are you even talking about, He doesn't-"

"Yes he does, I would know what it's like firsthand," surprisingly the words are easier to say than he previously thought, cathartic from the way he's held them in for so long. It's like once he starts he can't stop.

Your jaw has gone slack, body sweltering as you stare at him from a few feet away. He looks like he's holding on to the edge of ration, trying so desperately not to scare you away.

"I can barely think straight when I'm around you, it drives me crazy and that human - he was practically glowing from your presence alone and I couldn't stand it I- he doesn't even know what it's like to love you."

You feel like the wind has been knocked out of you, feet planted steady on the ground but somehow you feel like you're spinning. Your body feels like it's been lit like a live wire, his utter vulnerability and the sheer magnitude of the feelings swarming in his warm irises, spearing heat through your lower abdomen.

He looks pained, suddenly. More so than before and the need to reach out and touch him, to do something to soothe the agonized furrow between his sharp brows, feels borderline unbearable.

"I should go - fuck, I'm so sorry I'll leave I never should have even come tonight."

He's backing away further, nails still digging into the meat of his palms when your feet finally unthaw from shock, moving towards him before he can twist the doorknob.

It's like placing your hand on a heater, the temperature almost scalding. He's still shaking like a leaf in autumn, his breaths ragged and skin glossy.

He's still flinched away from you, as if scared to so much as glance up at you, and it feels like your chest is being cracked open.

"Don't leave, stop, okay?" The break in your voice catches his attention and suddenly his eyes are boring into yours, low and dark, riddled with too many emotions at once.

Your hands are suddenly grabbing his, much cooler than his scorching skin as you uncurl his fists. The crescent moons are already healing.

"You don't have to be sorry, I haven't been honest with you and I - I love you, too." You speak softly, bashfully almost as you pull him closer, stroking his cheek with the back of your knuckles. He feels as though he might combust.

"You...you do? Really?" He's dumbfounded, shaken from his core in a way that has him trembling in a different way all together. He steps closer and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek, the heat radiating off of him in waves.

You reach out, moving his dark, disheveled hair from in front of his eyes, chills rising from your skin as he leans into your touch. He looks dazed, lost in everything you say. He's so beautiful up close, golden and silky and glowing. You squeeze your thighs together.

You don't miss the way he glances from your lips and back to your eyes, nostrils flared slightly as you nod back at him. You even forget how easy it is for him to sense your emotions, to know exactly what it is you're feeling.

"Say it again." The timbre of his voice has lowered substantially and it has your knees weak as you grasp onto his sturdy shoulders, his pink tongue darting out to wet his unfairly plump lips. You're the one with the fever now.

"I love you, Yuta. I love you."

He groans.

"Oblivious, so oblivious. Don't even know how fucked you have me, do you?" His hot fingertips graze the side of your neck and you press your chest against his, the surface of your lips barely skimming past one another, noses touching.

Finally, with a fleeting permissive gaze into your eyes, he closes the space, giving air to your lungs and dousing gasoline on the blaze.

All at once he's crashing against you, soft mouth feverish in the way he suckles your bottom lip, wet tongue lapping into your mouth. He swallows your petulant whine, shoving you as gently as he can against the kitchen counter, needing to keep you steady against something.

Your fingers grip handfuls of his hair as your pelvises meet, rubbing against the other with a roll of your hips. It's like a magnetic force, stronger than anything either of you has ever felt.

"Please, please." He begs sweetly. your hardened nipples rubbing him through his thin tee shirt, thigh suddenly hiked up around his narrow hips. You don't even have to ask what it is he wants, ready for any and everything he offers. It's like nothing else, kissing him like this, hearing the product of your effect on him. Your fantasies could never do him justice.

"Yes, Yuta." You reply through the desperate kisses he presses to your mouth, his forehead against yours, one hand locked at the nape of your neck. A sound a bit less menacing than the one that started this whole ordeal in the first place, vibrates through his chest and he's all too aware of the way it sends a satisfied tremor through your body.

"I've dreamt of this," he strains, as three dexterous fingers slip into the waistband of your bottoms, yanking them down at inhuman speed. Your gasp is against his cheek, before he's gone suddenly.

Not gone, in between your legs. You look down when you feel a hot puff of breath against the soiled patch in your underwear.

"so many nights I would cum to the thought of you, just so I could come over and not make a fool out of myself. Fuck, you have no idea."

His admittance has your thighs wavering as he pulls them apart, marveling at your clothed sex and running the tip of his slim index finger over your covered slit. He keeps you steady by the back of your knees.

He gazes up at you through the thick of his lashes, eyes topaz and thick with fog from the way your arousal has gotten him worked up. You can't believe this is actually happening.

"I- I do have an idea." He keeps his eyes on you while he mouths the innermost skin of your thighs, the feeling warm and ticklish, causing a whimper to fall from your lips.

"Tell me, baby, go ahead." Fuck, he still sounds so sweet despite the pure desire dripping from his tone. It's need in the rawest form. His teeth nip at your skin, softly, and it pushes the words from within tour throat.

"I've touched myself so many nights- to the thought of you and - ohhh, mmm," You throw your head back, muscles twitching as he places his mouth over the wet spot in your underwear, licking and sucking as if to torture himself. You feel the faintest prick of his nails against the back of your thighs before the feeling disappears, most likely him trying to stay centered.

"Yuta, please." You reach down, pushing his dark muss of hair away from his forehead, being driven mad by the way he's mouthing your pussy through such a thin layer of fabric. He's tempted to hear you beg some more, the sound unbearably sweet.

But he's too hungry for you to not only deny your pleasure, but also to deprive himself of such a delicacy. He all but rips the flimsy fabric from your lower half, lips parting with unbridled appetency from being so close to the sweetest source of honey.

He can't find it in himself to tease anymore, succumbing to his all consuming desire before you can gasp for the second time tonight.

It's heat, seering and wet and sloppy with the way he takes your clit into his mouth. The sounds are so raunchy, he's practically cooing against your sex while his thick pink tongue comes out to lap at your entrance.

If he weren't holding you up by the backs of your thighs you would have fallen straight to the floor by now, entire body fizzling with a burn that melts you to his touch.

"Mmm." He hums against your slit, dark lashes fanning against the highs of his cheekbones as he closes his eyes in bliss - nose pressed against your mound as while shakes his head back and forth. His plump lips - lips you've dreamt of being right where they are now, on your most sensitive of parts - suckle your folds before circling your swollen bud with the tip of his pink muscle. His wild hair tickles the inside of your thighs.

He's practically bursting from his jeans but he channels that energy elsewhere, cock throbbing angrily at it's neglect but he's too focused to care. He's wanted this for so long, never thought it possible. He always knew you smelled different around him, sweeter. He's not dumb. He knows the effect he has on you.

But now that he's sure, it's a whole different experience. You're dripping, barely able to hold yourself up as he eats you like a man starved. He kisses you as passionately as he did earlier, these lips just as soft and addicting as your others.

He takes his index and ring finger, spreading you open and licking at you with deliberate, indulgent stripes. The sight is too much to even witness, your best friend, your Yuta, heartbreakingly beautiful as he's always been. Except this time he's eating you out in the middle of your kitchen.

"Y-Yuta m'gonna - oohhh, fuck." He doesn't take this as a warning, he takes it as a challenge. You're not sure you can handle anymore, body on overdrive, spilling over with pheromones. This makes him all the more hungry, all the more enthusiastic.

After all, that is your bestfriend. Always going the extra mile for you, always there when you need him. His eyes open and he's peering up at you like you're the sun, strong hands wrapping around your soft hips and rocking your hips against his mouth.

You can all but read his expression, the urgency in which he wants you to fall apart. He coerces you with his penetrating gaze, and you wonder how you've held out from cumming this long.

All at once it hits you, a stroke of his skilled tongue while he moves you against it, making up for your lack of strength. The sound he lets out is close to a whimper, forcing your thighs open when they threaten to close around his head.

It's like having every single one of your nerve endings doused in pure euphoria, it fills you like a balloon and bursts into a thousand sparks. You're almost afraid he's not going to stop, that he's gonna lick you raw until he's kissing you again.

Your eyes are still closed shut from the magnitude of your orgasm, the taste of yourself suddenly on your tongue as his lips move against yours. Despite your state, you're quick to respond, spent but not completely satiated. Not when you know that this is really happening, that the line has already been crossed and more than that - he actually loves you back.

He's still holding you steady when your shaky hands paw at the waistband of his jeans, missing and stroking the firm appendage that's bulging out to the right.

He convulses, lurching against you before you're wrapped around his waist, being carried into another room you suppose but it doesn't take very long. Your back hits a bed and you realize he's carried you to your room.

So many nights spent with him here, binging countless shows that are really only entertaining because he's there to watch them with you, him letting you play with his hair and styling it every which way when you're bored and have nothing else to do.

But even bad nights as well. Nights where everything in the world felt so overwhelming, crying in his arms seemed like the only thing that could give you some sort of release. And he'd always be there, waiting and ready for you no matter what mood the day might have put you in.

You arch against him when he begins to mark your neck, right over your carotid artery, moving to the sensitive skin under your ear. You suddenly feel very alone in your nakedness and your patience is wearing thin, your eagerness to see him in all of his glory an emotion that you hadn't realized was so strong.

His chuckle is warm and familiar in your ear, his smile bright and provoking a strange surge of urgency to move through you when he hooks his finger onto the hem of his shirt and pulls it from his body.

You almost want to yell at him, to curse him for ever holding out on you this long. You've seen him shirtless before, he's spent the night and showered at your place plenty. It's just that, now, it's different. Completely different. And you're grateful for the way he allows you to marvel openly.

He's panting while your palms are placed on the lean, tanned planes of his body. From his shoulders to his chest down over his sides, you wish you could kiss every inch of him.

It's when your fingers pass the fine dark hair just under his navel that your eyes finally land upon the intimidating hard on he's sporting, his stare heavy as you go to to undo his button.

He helps you in pushing them down his thighs, before he places his forearms on either side of you, caging you against him while he kicks the garment off. Your hands wander any expanse of his brilliant skin as they can reach, and you know that he's basking in it.

Especially the way you breathe his name when his clothed cock nudges your naked center, reminding you that this is really happening and that he's going to be inside of you.

It's thrill, swirling in your belly, and as potent as pure adrenaline when your curiosity and desire overpowers your nerves and you cup him through his underwear. Your expression gives away your exact thoughts, the unabashed surprise and wonder at feeling him like this.

His eyes seem to darken even more, if possible, as he tongues the inside of his cheek, smug.

"You want it bad, don't you?" He taunts, this side of him making you feel whiny in the best of ways. It causes you to pulse around nothing, the way he peers down at you with such a cocky, avaricious expression.

"Yes, Yuta I want it bad," you wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the soft hairs there as you pull him down to your mouth. "Please fuck me, please."

He grunts, his hand cupping your jaw one second and gone the next. You feel his knuckles graze your pelvis between your bodies, and you realize he's taking his underwear off, the butterflies suddenly in your throat.

You feel it before you see it, bare and naked against you, that is.

It's big. Bigger than you expected, and you already suspected that with confidence like his, it was generous in size. He drags it through your folds, hugged between the softness of your lips, nose nudging your jaw.

"You're so beautiful....m'so lucky baby, so so lucky." He pants, your thighs tight around his torso, heels digging into his lower back. Your cheek is pressed against his hair and the scent of his shampoo calms your raging pulse, your heart is surely giving away just how much this is affecting you.

The tip of his dick grazes your entrance and you throb, bucking up against him in a manner that causes him to groan, further grinding his hips against you and allowing just the head to begin pushing into you - the easier portion of him to take at first - before he suddenly stills.

"Condom, fuck I didn't even think-"

You interrupt his pained admittance, the words spilling from your mouth before he can even finish, your senses overpowered.

"It's okay, just fuck me raw."

This has his body convulsing again, a guttural sound reverberating in his throat as one hand suddenly cups your face, like its as breakable as fine china and as delicate as a honeysuckle. The expression on his beautiful face has you pushing up against the head of his dick again, his jaw tight.

"Don't just say that, please," He fights back the urge to plunge into you all at once, honey eyes locked onto your half lidded gaze as you writhe underneath him. "such a dirty fuckin' mouth, do you really mean that, darling?"

You're nodding fervently but he needs an answer.

"Yes, I mean it I really mean it, Yuta." You whimper, and its the confirmation he needs to continue. Slowly but surely - only as to not hurt you - he's sliding into you, and the stretch is more overwhelming than you thought it'd be, nails digging into his skin.

He watches your expression the entire time, thumb stroking your face and lips kissing the swell of your cheek.

When he's finally bottomed out, the fullness makes it hard to move, though it's not much of a setback when he's being so caring and attentive, prepared to make you feel good.

"Are y-you okay? Does it hurt?" He stutters, expression laced with genuine concern as he swallows. You don't even pretend not to stare at his neck, his chest.

"Just...it's just a lot, you're so big," He stifles a gruff sound in the crook of your neck, your hand rubbing up and down the hot expanse of his smooth back. The discomfort doesn't last long when you're here with him like this. "you can move Yuta, move."

You don't mean to sound so pressing but your body feels touch starved, like you want more and more and more. That desire is fulfilled when he begins to drag himself out of you before pushing back in, clamping his teeth into his bottom lip as he does so.

He's not slow for very long though, not by a long shot. In between making out he's on his haunches, looking down at the sight before him, taking in the squelch of your wetness around his thick cock while you paw at his waist.

It's different, so different and so good. You're all but shell shocked, mouth agape while he rolls his hips into you. Every time he thrusts back into you you’re jolted, squeaking due the depths he's managing to hit.

"Oh baby, you're taking it so well. Knew you would, always knew you would." He's breathless, gripping onto your hips with fervour, kissing you sloppily.

Everything feels so vibrant with him, so visceral. You're barely able to speak coherently, and it's causing a stir within his belly that threatens to burst. You claw at his waist when he thrusts at a particular angle and you keen against him.

"Ooohhh,Yuta Yuta Yuta." You coo, face suddenly covered by your own hands as you feel tears welling in your eyes from the way his bulbous tip massages that spongey spot deep inside of you.

Between just a breath, you're on your stomach, the absence of his dick leaving you feeling all to empty just for a second, before he's plunging back inside.

You fist the sheets while you rock back against him, the sounds leaving his throat deep and resonant. You're not propped all the way up, he knows it might be too much for you like that right now but it's enough. Enough for the dirtiest thoughts and needs to boil inside his blood, to spill from his mouth. Like he can't even help it.

"Mmm, wanna fill you with my cum like this, have you dripping with it. Bet you'd look s-so pretty, fuck." He's dissapearing inside of you at a faster pace and you go limp, his strength too much to try and keep up with along with the fact that his admittance is leaving you even more fucked out than you were before.

"Y-Yes, want you to fill me up Yuta. Oohh!" You're sure his fingertips will leave bruises but you're too gone to think about it, not when he's suddenly got a hand around the back of your neck, front pressed against your back while he pumps himself into you.

"Yeah? Bet you'd like that, walking around being stuffed full. I want you all - shit - all to myself, get you big and swollen." He shudders against your neck when a ripple of pleasure has him momentarily reeling, pace sloppy and fierce. You're gripping onto the sheets for dear life.

"Fill me up, I want you to give me your babies. Want you and only you."

This provokes something inside of him that he hadn't ever thought really existed, at least not when it came to how he would feel in this particular situation. It's a carnal feeling, seeping down his spine and into his hips and has him pistoling into you too fast-

He keeps going as thick ropes of his cum fill you up, more abundantly than you thought possible. You can feel it, the warmth in your insides and even as it trickles out and down the back of your thighs. He kisses the cheek that isn't pressed against the mattress, still groaning while he pumps it into you.

And he doesn't stop.

His dick is still rock hard, covered in his release and your arousal alike and the glide is like silk, the sound loud and invasive and perfect. You're reaching back now, carding your hands through his hair and he senses your need to touch him.

Once again, it's a blur before you realize the position has changed. You're on top of him and his knees are locked underneath you, heels raised on the mattress while he takes you like this from below.

You openly adore him for a second, like this. He's glowing in his post orgasm state, ethereal in all forms. His broad lips are pursed, slightly parted and kiss bitten to a pretty plum shade. His high cheeks match, and his hazy eyes stare up at you with all the admiration in the world.

"You like when I fuck my cum into you like this baby? Gonna make an even bigger mess for me?" He says it so sweetly you feel like you might cry, everything far too much for a moment while you bury your face in the safety of his neck, the scent of his skin sweet and familiar.

All you can do is whine really, the wanton sound pathetic and weak and adorable in every sense. He wants to give you the world more, the moon and stars.

"That's it baby, I got you. You can let go for me, my sweet girl. Bet your little pussy just wants to cum so bad."

His strong arms wrap around your body and cage you to his figure when the pleasure finally overflows, wracking your body like an earthquake and leaving you unable to do anything other than bear it.

He kisses the side of your head, makes sure to circle his hips while you pant his name over and over in his ear, pussy clenching around him and fluttering wildly. He can hardly believe he's actually just gotten to make you fall apart, that he is the one who has you nearly in tears against his chest with his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.

He doesn't dare move. Even after a few minutes, you're still shaking and twitching, and he holds you all the while. It's more than perfect, it's everything. That might be dramatic for some but for him, for you, it's like finally coming home.

Because, it's been so long. So long since the moment you two first met, and since you realized that this person was not someone you could live without. For so long, it felt impossible to admit your feelings.

The risk of losing each other was too great, excruciating even.

But now that you're together, in the purest form there is, connected in the most intimate of ways, and he wishes that he would have told you sooner. You both do.

Never again. You'll never slip through each others fingers, ever again.

[chironshorseass]

hello yes i’m OBSESSED with your writing so if you’re still taking prompts maybe “please look at me” bc i also have an unhealthy relationship with pre-tlo percabeth angst and live for pining percy

SYD U GAVE ME THIS AND I JUST HAD TO PUT ALL MY PROMPTS ASIDE!!! because how could i not!!!

for what i wrote, i kind of mention this clarisse one-shot.

anyway enjoy <3, since I sort of went crazy with percy being powerful :) like i always do :) and of course, pre-tlo percabeth :)

read on ao3

The waves had grown restless these past few days. Violent, brutal. The night was quiet, the moon hidden beneath darkened clouds, drenching the camp in heavy ink. Percy knew many demigods proclaimed it as the quiet before the storm. They couldn’t have been more wrong.

All he heard was noise.

He’d been like this—unsteady, overwhelmed—for some time, now. Everywhere he went, he felt like a ship sailing into giant waves, water crashing against his deck, threatening to bring him under.

Grover would’ve understood, maybe. But Grover, like the moon, had vanished. That only left a few of his other friends—and of course—Annabeth.

Percy couldn’t avoid her gaze, no matter how much he wanted to. She was always there, watching. Maybe she awaited the day when he’d sink to the power of those waves that plagued the beach, that plagued him. Maybe she anticipated with bated breath on the day when he’d turn sixteen and he’d have to make one decision that would change everything.

Nevertheless, she’d drift away from him. Then come back, again and again.

It drove him crazy, how much their relationship had changed with the times and circumstances. Only now, Annabeth wasn’t what bothered him.

His gut was.

It tightened and loosened, the same way the currents flowed to the rhythm of his rushing blood. He could hear that now, too.

His blood. The sea. The clashes against rock.

Everything was beating to a powerful symphony of drums.

But worst of all was his gut.

Something had gone terribly wrong.

Percy knew there was a war. He had nightmares about it, in fact. Nightmares leading to frantic waking-ups from the feeling of lava burning into his skin. But he hadn’t sensed the war’s presence so strongly in all his three years of attending camp as he did now—and he felt it, because the source of conflict had to do with the sea.

The shadows of cabin three clung to his skin in a comfortable blanket, but he couldn’t ignore this dread. It had trickled patiently into his system for a week now, culminating to this exact moment. He couldn’t sit still. He had to leave. Now.

Not long after stumbling outside while shoving his armor on did he hear the conch horn ringing as a warning. The lookouts had seen something. His legs moved faster.

Doors of other cabins began to smash open, and with it came the spilling of panicked campers. He was already way ahead of them, though.

“To the beach!” someone cried.

Percy arrived just in time to see Chiron assemble with Michael Yew and Austin Lake. The sons of Apollo. They’d apparently been the ones on night duty. The centaur saw Percy before the others made out his heavy footfalls.

“Percy,” Chiron said. “Thank the gods you’re here.”

“There’s something,” he gasped, doubling over once he’d reached them. “There’s something out there,” he finally managed to say, gulping mouthfuls of air. “The sea.”

They already knew, however. The conchorns were signal enough. But what was more obvious was the glimpse of the giant tail, jutting out of the water like a spear cutting through flesh.

The breath he’d managed to find from his mad dash was stolen away at the sight of the monster.

“Yeah,” Austin said, swallowing. “There’s something out there, alright.”

Chiron eyed Percy warily. “My boy. We are dealing here with something I fear that you are only capable of stopping.”

“Yeah, well...it looks like a pretty big fish. I—”

A howl punctured the atmosphere—probably the same sea monster he’d seen earlier. Percy gasped, feeling a stabbing jolt in his stomach. He didn’t know why this sudden change of the sea was affecting him so, but he had to stay strong. So he stood up straight and concentrated on his breathing.

“Are you alright?” Austin asked, studying him.

Percy looked at Chiron, who met his eyes as well. You have to be, his teacher seemed to say.

“I...I think so.”

Michael chose the moment to turn his back on the sea, blowing the conchorn once more. He shouted at the incoming campers, “Greek fire! We need Greek fire!”

The rest of the multitude showed up right away, Hephaestus kids priming canons while others exchanged weaponry. Through all of it, Percy’s gut became a pressure cooker, a fist closing around glass, about to break. He cried out in agony just as a tidal wave shook the world. Falling to his knees, his arms encircled his middle, muffling that pain. He wanted nothing but to make it stop.

He vaguely heard a sound of surprise, coming from someone nearby, then the rush of hands holding onto his shoulders. They helped somewhat, a comfort to the madness.

The hands were warm and soothing. The voice of the person became clearer. He knew that voice. He knew those hands.

Annabeth appeared in his vision, all worry lines and pinched eyebrows. She said something to him again, but the words might’ve been ghosts; the stampeding blood behind his ears was too thunderous to make out anything else.

He closed his eyes and concentrated like he had earlier.

Sharp as a blade, his senses switched to the outside world.

“Are—are you okay?” Annabeth was saying. “You doubled over, and I…”

“No.” He opened his eyes to meet hers. They matched the storm that raged across the sea. “I—I’m not okay. I need to stop this, I need—”

“We were just discussing strategy,” she said. He was glad for the distraction she’d offered. “The Scolopendra isn’t just any ordinary sea monster.”

“The Scolo what?”

She helped him stand up, steadying him with her arms.

“The Scolopendra,” she repeated. “A child of Keto. It’s one of the biggest sea monsters in existence, and it won’t leave the camp border.”

“No shit.”

Annabeth ignored him, glancing backwards at where the monster had last been seen. “There’s no telling what it can do. There’s barely any recordings of it.” She swiveled back to him. “Chiron says that it can control the tide. It might be capable of drowning the camp if we don’t kill it.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“I told Chiron that we needed to try my strategy first. As in, bombing it with Greek fire before we go with the last approach.”

“And what would that last approach be?”

He had some idea, but before Annabeth could speak, the creature shot out of the water, faster than lightning. He only caught a glimpse of the crayfish-like tail and rows of webbed feet before it disappeared again.

“That looks like a giant shrimp,” he declared.

A giant shrimp that was probably capable of crushing a decently-sized trireme. Shrimpzilla, he was about to call it, as a way to lighten the mood. But he thought better of it, once he saw the hard line of Annabeth’s lips as she watched the campers rev up the Greek fire.

The Scolopendra dared to peek out of the waves for the third time, giving the chance for Beckendorf to yell out an order. Instantly, canyons discharged the green substance directly towards the monster.

It roared defiantly, maybe in pain, maybe in anger. No one was sure, because as soon as the night sky lit up with green flames, the Scolopendra crashed against the water like a wrecking ball. For a moment, all was silent.

No one dared breathe.

Annabeth squeezed Percy’s shoulder. She looked hopeful, as if relieved that she didn’t have to go with the second plan.

Chiron’s tail twitched. Beckendorf held out a hand, urging the campers to wait. Some stood anticipatedly, swords ready. He saw Clarisse in the front line, her electric spear aimed at the sea and crackling with energy.

Percy sensed what was about to happen next before he heard it.

“Annabeth,” he said frantically. “Annabeth, we have to go. Now.”

“What? But—”

“NOW!”

He’d already separated himself from her, yelling at the rest of the campers to leave. They didn’t have the chance; milliseconds later, the Scolopendra appeared. It bellowed with the power of a thousand hurricanes. Many campers covered their ears.

To everyone’s horror, it had closed in on the shore, its back legs likely reaching the sand floor as it rose to its full, terrifying height. Lightning crackled, and with it, came another roar.

“No,” he muttered. “No, everyone get out!”

Too late. The monster had already spit out a million gallons’ worth of salt water.

Instinctively, Percy let out a yell and threw his hands out.

The water halted in midair, rippling like a broken mirror. It was as if time had slowed down, as if Kronos himself had been the one to interfere. But Kronos wasn’t interfering. It was all Percy—with nothing but his willpower. A bead of sweat rolled down from his temple.

Annabeth reached him just as he cried out and threw the water back to the sea with everything he had, forcing the giant shrimp to hide as well.

He caught his breath while Annabeth looked back and forth. From him to the sea, from the sea to him.

She shook her head at no one in particular. “The plan didn’t work.”

“No shit.”

Then she gazed at him again. “Thank you for doing that, Perce.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “No problem.”

“About the second plan...”

“I have to kill it, don’t I?”

“I...maybe. But we can help—”

“It isn’t a maybe. It is a certainty,” a voice said, strong and firm.

They both turned around.

“Chiron,” Annabeth said. “How can he possibly—”

“He’s the only one capable,” the horseman said. “You know that better than most.”

Her eyes flicked to Percy. Memories flashed through his mind. A quick, burning kiss. A promise. Then, the way fire engulfed him. The call of the sea. An explosion, strong enough to wake one of the most dangerous monsters of all.

When the bombard was over, he understood. He had to face this monster alone, like he had with the telkhines.

“Okay,” he finally said.

“Okay, what?”

Chiron nodded at him, ignoring Annabeth’s question. Without glancing back, he retreated to where the rest of the demigods were watching by the sand dunes as a precaution.

“I need to face him alone,” Percy told her, once Chiron was gone.

“No! Percy, that thing is bigger than—”

“I’m the only one that can’t drown, Annabeth!” He grasped her shoulders so that she was looking directly at him. “If anyone can do it, it’s me.”

“Don’t think I can’t see what’s going on with you,” she said, voice bitter and rough. “You’re distant, like, like the ocean is—”

“We’re both growing distant, ‘Beth. That’s not the problem right now.”

She pushed his hands away. “And that’s not what I’m talking about, and you fucking know that!”

Before he could reply, the monster's call came again. A reminder that this night wasn’t over.

“Please. Just trust me on this, Annabeth. I have to try. It’s our last option. You said so yourself: it may be capable of drowning the entire camp.”

She said nothing, not even sparing him a glance.

“And—and I don’t know why I’m like this! Maybe it’s because I can feel the ocean getting agitated, or because the war is getting worse, or—”

He realized it, then. Annabeth's tears. They were silent rivers, flowing gently down her cheeks and into her mouth. Flowing down to where everything ended up, to the sea.

“Hey,” he said, approaching her slowly. He took both of her hands in his, but she repelled away from his touch. “Please, ‘Beth.”

This time, he cupped her damp cheek, moving it in his direction. “Please look at me.”

And when she finally obliged, her gaze was fractured with glistening tears, like diamonds.

“I can’t lose you again,” she whispered.

Percy had yearned for too long; he let go of that rope tugging him in the opposite direction and instead let Annabeth in. They melted into each other, both shamelessly giving away the little warmth they preserved. It was the kind of hug that felt like a lifeline, the kind that made them both sway like the tide.

“I missed you,” he mumbled into her curls.

She held him tighter. “I missed you, too.”

“But I have to fight this one myself.”

Annabeth pulled away slightly—and when he saw the look on her face—he knew that she knew.

-

“HEY, SHRIMPZILLA!”

The Scolopendra reared its head, even uglier up close. Its nostrils flared with hairs, beady eyes staring down at him. When he charged, the monster bellowed and threw itself in the water, sending sprays taller than a house.

But none of it touched Percy.

He didn’t stop running, a plan in mind. Meanwhile, the sea churned around him in one giant mass of power, but it parted with each step he took, forming a trail of now exposed ocean floor. Water collided with the sky, flying with the salt in the air.

Hello, friend, it seemed to say. Or rather, hum. The sea was a song, and he was just there to dance to its melody.

The Scolopendra had disappeared again.

He didn’t look back, though he knew the entire camp was there, watching—maybe in awe, but he didn’t care enough to find out. He kept walking, alone, surrounded by a pool of green and blue. Was this how Moses felt, In those stories he’d heard? Bricks of ocean water, flinging up into the sky, just so that Percy could pass. The feeling distracted him from the objective.

That’s what he’d argue later, because Percy can’t explain how the monster managed to sneak up to him that easily.

The pool of green seemed endless. There was a moment where nothing moved, not even the water. But then something did tug him violently, up, up into the sky.

For a second, he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream out, the breath stolen from his lungs and the icy rush of air when flung into the sky nauseating. The only feeling he knew was of the Scolopendra and its death grip on his entire body.

With each second, the roiling waters grew farther and farther away. The Scolopendra’s growl, however, couldn’t have sounded closer. Sharp claws sank into his chest and arms. If he didn’t react now, he’d be eaten before the next flash of lightning struck the sea.

Somehow, he managed to uncap Riptide.

And with a scream, he stabbed, as hard as he could.

-

“Hey. Want company?” A soft voice said.

He craned his neck around.

Annabeth subconsciously made the world easier to look at. Especially now, as she stood behind him in the pier with the last vestiges of harsh sun striking her back. Her stance was stiff, hesitant. He understood why.

So instead his eyes bored into his lap. He shrugged.

That was a sign enough for her. She crouched next to him, pulling her legs under herself and then flinging them out to where the wooden planks ended and the open air began, toes nearly kissing the placid lake.

She sat next to him, quiet as the wind. It took a few seconds or minutes or hours before she decided to speak.

“I’m sorry.”

From his peripheral vision, he could tell that she’d been studying him instead of watching the reflection of herons flying above the water. Something he’d thought she’d been doing. Apparently not.

It also took him seconds or minutes or hours before he could respond.

“What for?”

She exhaled, “Letting you go alone. Being a part of the campers who…”

She didn’t finish that sentence. He knew why.

Being a part of the campers who abandoned you alone after what you did.

“S’okay. I get it.”

A lie. He didn’t get it.

“Doesn’t make it right.”

He stared at his hands. “Guess not.”

The details of the fight were yet to go away. The memories were still fresh—like his mother’s batch of cookies whenever he came home from camp. Teeth were ever-present in his mind. And those webbed hands. Those twisted sounds as a monster choked on its own blood.

Afterward, everyone had taken a step back. Even Annabeth and Chiron seemed to contemplate him as though he were doomed. Maybe he was.

“I wish Grover were here.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth sighed. She kicked her leg up, swatting at some mosquitos. “Me too.”

“He’d pull our shit together, fix everything.” He found himself sounding wistful, longing for a missing piece of himself all of a sudden.

She didn’t reply to that. They both missed their best friend. Now, more than ever. Percy tried to not dwell too much on the fact that Grover hadn’t responded to his Iris Messages or to his calls from their shared empathy link.

“I’m sorry.”

“You already said that.”

“No, Percy. I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“Just look at me.”

He did the opposite, gazing at the trees to his left. They were a deep, mystical green. The colors looked like the ocean, where he’d displayed his powers for everyone to see. Worst mistake of his life. He realized that tears had begun to form in his eyes; he quickly blinked them away.

“Percy,” Annabeth insisted.

Her tone wasn’t hash or demanding—but rather, a light pink sky. A hand brushing his, sweet and tender. He noticed that it wasn’t just his imagination; glancing down, he found her fingers ghosting against his knuckles.

“Please look at me.”

This was eerily familiar. It hit him, then, that he’d said those exact words when she’d panicked about him going alone to fight the Scolopendra.

Hesitantly, his eyes focused on her face. Her freckles were there, golden like the rest of her. Only now, her eyes were rimmed with tears.

Something changed inside them both. She stared at him, he stared at her. Her face contorted, and the both broke down, crumbling like ruins with the slightest gust.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, clinging to his shirt.

“Me too,” he murmured back.

He held unto her as if she were a life force, breathing in her lemony scent. Tears were exchanged, mingling in the other’s hair. They held each other, an embrace that didn’t deserve to end. It only made him cry harder, while Annabeth held him closer.

“Why are you sorry?”

He couldn’t say it out loud.

I’m sorry for why we’re like this. I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m sorry for leaving.

Instead, he pulled away. He studied her, every single feature, from those grey eyes and that upturned nose to those curls that no longer appeared to look like a princess.’ They were just Annabeth’s.

“I scared you,” he said.

His arms loosened around her, just now realizing how long they’d hugged, but their hands stayed interlocked—like some sort of middle ground.

She regarded him, eyebrows furrowed. “I can’t ever be scared of you,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re my best friend, Perce.”

He looked away. “Everyone else was.”

“I should have gone to you after—I just...I thought you were angry at me.”

Their hands separated. “Why would I be angry at you?”

“Because I let you handle all of it alone. The monster, the campers—”

“‘Beth.” He took her hands again, cupping them with his. “I couldn’t ever be angry at you.”

“That’s not true,” she said wryly.

An observation, not an accusation. Still, that didn’t make it hurt any less. He recalled the shouting, the fights. The only thing they looked for in those moments was to hurt the other, twist and pull at any chink in the armor they could find.

She winced, remembering that, too. “Sorry.”

His mouth twitched. “You’ve said ‘sorry’ too many times. It’s getting repetitive.”

She hit his shoulder playfully. “Well, I mean it.”

He didn’t retort anything back. They found peace in this lake, once again gazing at the horizon.

“It’s not true what you said, either,” he said, his mind lingering on what she’d told him earlier. “You’re scared, as well.”

The sound of the incoming crickets carried on in Annabeth’s hesitation.

That is, until she said, “I am. Scared. I’m scared.” He glanced over. She was staring in his direction, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Neither did I.”

She laughed, breathless. “See that’s what scares me. What else can you do? Honestly?”

He shrugged, turning away from her.

“How’d you do that, anyway?”

“I defeated it, didn’t I?” It was better to deflect than to answer her question.

Defeating the monster should’ve been what mattered, anyway.

“Percy.”

“Annabeth,” he said, in the same condescending tone.

“All I’m saying is that you could hurt yourself. You don’t know what you’re capable of. And then when your birthday happens—”

“You think I’m going to destroy Olympus or something?” He shook his head. “I should’ve known that you’d side with the gods on that, too. You think that they should kill me?”

“What? Percy, I’d never—”

He whirled, facing her, and finally let go of all those pent-up thoughts that just like the sea, wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Just admit it, Annabeth! Admit that it freaked you out that I blood bended or whatever the fuck Chiron called it! Admit, that it freaked you out how I killed that monster! That I’m fucking cursed!”

“Percy Jackson, you are not—”

“Yes, I am. Why would my dad give me powers like that? Huh? Just say it with me: you’re scared—of me.”

Her eyes were red, face hard as stone. Just like her voice when she said, “Look. I just wanted to help. But if you want to sit in your self pity, then go for it! You clearly don’t need me.”

She made no move to leave, however.

Their eyes held, until the anger from both of them melted. He huffed out a breath, shoulders hunching. “We can’t ever stop fighting, can we?”

She sighed.

“Guess not.”

“I won’t do that again.”

She lifted her chin. “Why?”

“Like you said. Scared you.”

That made her purse her lips.

“You’re not cursed, Percy. You know that, right?”

She reached for his hand. It was becoming a strange routine. Finding comfort in hand holding and then dismantling it as if it never happened.

“You’re mostly right all the time, so.” He squeezed her hand. “I s’pose I’m not cursed, then.”

“I’m right most of the time?” she said, eyes twinkling.

“Okay, fine,” he conceded. “You’re right only sometimes.”

She opened her mouth in mock-offense. “Percy Jackson—”

He cut her off with his laugh, a laugh that fit with the music of the crickets. She rolled her eyes, something that he’d missed achingly, now that he saw her do it for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Scooting closer, she nudged him. “I could help you. Alongside Clarisse.”

His eyes widened. “You knew about that?”

“She’s my friend, too.”

“Of course she is,” he muttered.

Him and Clarisse...they might’ve had a rocky relationship when he’d first arrived at camp, but now, he didn’t know what he’d do without her help—without her friendship. They both understood the other in a bizzare, not very common way. She’d helped him hone in his powers, but it had yet to be something he’d wanted to admit to Annabeth. To everyone else, for that matter.

“I get why you didn’t want to tell me,” she said. “But...I do want to help. You’re my best friend, and, and I also want to spend time with you. If...that’s alright.”

“It’s alright by me.”

Annabeth gave him a look.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He tried for a smile. “I guess you could come along, then.”

His grin was shared with her, though her eyes were serious. “You’ll see. We’ll figure out your powers. What you can do, why you can do it, why the sea is affecting you…”

“All of it?”

She nodded. “All of it.”

They left it at that, though what they didn’t leave was the canoe pier. Not until the sun hid under the trees, spilling its ink of reds and oranges across the horizon.

The golden of the sun was replaced by the silver of the moon for the night, then it rose again for the day.

And in between, the waves lapped against the shore, constant and content. The ocean had calmed. For now.

[lunarosewood23]

FFXIVWrite2022 Prompt 10: Channel

More Timaeus playing with his new powers and testing the limits of them.

Borrowing @inkblood-mistrieu’s Mingxia, who is absolutely a bad influence. And I also had her help bc while I know she’s random, I still can’t get the exact randomness, y’know?

~~~

“Big sister!!” Timaeus cheered with an enthusiastic wave as Mingxia landed over at the aetheryte near Kaia’s forge.

She grinned as she ran up to him to give him a hug. “Tim! How have you been little brother?”

“Ok enough. Lookie!! I’ve been playing with my powers! I’ve figured out a few combinations for my arcane equips thanks to Father Hermenost!” He says excitedly as he hands her his grimoire.

"How neat little brother!" Mingxia says as she looks over the list of glyph combinations. "I'm proud that you're getting so much done, especially in so short of time!"

His whole face lit up with a bright smile as she ruffled his hair. “Wanna help me some more big sister?”

“Of course I will!” She replies with a grin. “Come on!”

With that the two of them headed out into the Highlands, specifically deciding it would be wise to go cull voidsent down in Witchdrop as a test.

“How many have you found you can channel at once?”

“Currently? One at a time.”

“I meant in a single battle. How many of the arcane equips can you use without it being a serious tax on your aether?” Mingxia asked.

Timaeus thought about it and shrugged. “I haven’t tested it actually.”

“Wanna see?”

“Yeah!” He cheers. “Big sister will save me if something goes crazy!”

She giggles as they start their experiment. It started out normal enough, get a couple spells off then swap to an arcane equip.

A wand, then a spear, and suddenly he was draped in red robes and carrying an ornate white staff with star sapphires, and a sudden burst of flame ripped from the staff eradicating several Voidrouga. He dropped the form and cast a few more spells before a wand and a sword lit up. He was draped in golden robes and holding a different staff, this one white with...aquamarines? He wasn’t sure, but it was spiky, and it looked like the sky opened up and meteors fell on the voidsent.

He let go of the form and he dropped to his knees, but there were still several more of them and he wasn’t done yet.

“Tim, hey Tim are you okay?”

“I’m okay! I wanna try one more!” He called as he swiftcasted a few spells then he saw an axe light up first, then a spear.

A heavy double bladed axe was in his hands and he was wearing bronze and blue armor. He slammed the axe on the ground and made the ground shake with the impact, causing a ripple in the ground. The armor dispersed and he collapsed, faceplanting into the snow.

“Hey I think you’re at your limit Tim, take a break.” She tried to say as he started to stand up and began casting, but right as he tried for another equip, he began to cough, blood dripping from his mouth as he fell on his knees.

“Oh sh- Tim! Tim, stop, don’t cast anymore, breathe,” she made a complicated-looking gesture over her codex, and both she and her fairy channeled aether into him. “Nald’s golden scales, Tim, if you’re tired, don’t push it. That’s your body telling you enough’s enough.”

Timaeus looked up at her from his spot in the snow, a pout on his blood-stained lips. “I was hoping I could do more, like how you can big sister.”

“You’re already doing really well for how recently you started, Tim. I’m not a good standard to measure up against. I’m considered to be pretty weird by most normal metrics.” Mingxia shook her head a little as she continued checking him over, a hand lightly running through his hair as he nuzzled his face against her the way a little kid does when seeking comfort.

“But you’re able to do so much with your arcanima. I have twelve arcane equips I can use and I can’t seem to use even a third of them all before my body wears out...” He mumbled before another coughing fit took him by surprise. No blood thankfully, but he felt crappy all the same. “I’m hungry, and sleepy, and I don’t know which one first...”

“You, little brother, have something I don’t, and that is power. I specialize in control. I don’t have a lot to work with, so I have to stretch my aether out as far as I can. I’ve also had much more time than you to develop and refine my technique. It took years to get to this point, so don’t expect so much progress overnight.” She pulled out a package of pineapple ponzecake.  “Here, eat this. I find it helpful with restoring one’s aether, but it is a bit dense.”

Timaeus sighed, she had a point, and he hugged her tightly. When she hands him the ponzecake he takes it and bites into it before eating the whole thing in nearly one sitting. “It’s so good! Did you make it big sister?”

“Yep! I’ll give you the recipe when we get back, and once you’ve gotten some sleep.” Mingxia says as she helps Timaeus to his feet. He’s wobbly from using so much aether, but he can lean on her alright. He wiped his mouth of what little blood was left, he didn’t want to make his big brother worry too much.

“Umm big sister?”

“What’s up?”

“Can we not tell big brother Zephirin I did this?”

“Why?” Mingxia asked.

“Because...” He mumbles. “He’s already got so much to worry over, with the blasphemy and the other knights and Kaia, I don’t wanna add to it.”

“Well, I suppose he doesn’t need to know about this right now…we did fix it pretty quickly. But only if you promise to listen when your body’s telling you to stop. There’s only enough room for one crazy person here, and you haven’t quite got the “be crazy safely” part down yet.” Mingxia agreed, her tone turning slightly playful towards the end.

“Okay.” Timaeus agreed with a giggle.

[zuluc]

@cattycattitude​ requested: Ooh another Genshin Impact blog!! Welcome :D could I request a scenario (or hcs whatever works for you) of Kaeya getting injured bc of something reader did in a battle and reader is lowkey freaking out but Kaeya keeps downplaying the injury and eventually reader helps patch him up somehow?? Sorry if it's too specific haha feel free to modify it in any way! Thank you <3

paring: kaeya alberich x gn!reader

style & genre: written; fluff

warnings: very brief descriptions of injuries

notes: i just started playing when it came out and i am in love with the characters! this scenario was fun to write i’m sorry this is short but i wanted to try writing it fully written

reader has pyro vision!

You couldn’t help the frown that spread on your face as the Cavalry Captain stumbles against the crate you forced him towards. His head lolls to the side with an amused grin which did not dilute the situation he was currently in. You rummage through the bag you brought for the mission, all with a silent thanks to your past self.

“Kaeya, I--”

“Don’t worry about it, darling. I’m fine.” He said for the nth time. His hand still clutched the side of his body but it was more or less exaggeration on his part. He secretly, or to be very honest not really, loved when you cared for him.

“No, no you’re not,” you finally grab a hold of some gel given to you by Barbara, her saying it was useful for burns you might receive, as well as a roll of bandages. “I burned you.”

“And you think the Abyss Mages haven’t?”

“Kaeya!”

“Alright, alright!” He chuckles and allows you to lift the makeshift bandage you placed on there earlier. He could sense the amount of guilt you had about you, seeing as your eyes were focused heavily on cleaning and dressing his wound. The knight was used to all of this, it came with the job.

“You’re outnumbered, knights!” The room spun as your exhaustion was overtaking. You couldn’t end the fight here, the others were counting on your guys to clear this area. Otherwise, it’d be hard to come back to later.

You could tell your opponent was nearing their end as well, casting up another shield as you and Kaeya had landed your swords on them multiple times already. The Abyss Mage teleports from beside you to near Kaeya and you lunge forward, piercing your spear through it flames to break through its shield.

As your fire flares around it you feel nothing as you’re used to the warm feeling of the flames. You didn’t, however, notice just how much of your flames you were producing. A hiss resounds beside you when the mage disintegrates and Kaeya falls to his knees.

Kaeya pokes the space between your eyebrows to stop you from furrowing them even more. You were unaware as to what you were exactly doing but the wound was already cleaned and gel was applied. The roll of the bandage is in your hands and he allows you to move your hands around him to wrap his torso.

“I’m--no, don’t say anything--I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how much I produced and I knew you were there and I know it hurt--” Kaeya stops your rambling by holding onto your wrists as they come around his front, tying the wrap together. 

“Don’t be sorry. We killed the thing, didn’t we?” You nod slowly. “And we’re both still alive?” You nod again. He gives you a smile and moves his hands to hold your face.

“As long as you’re okay, I’ll be fine.” Your face heats up at the close proximity and you curse him for still having a way with his words. Intentional or not. “You’re taking care of me anyways.” He winks.

Definitely intentional. 

“Oh, are you burned too?” His hands start to cool seeing as your face is heating up, a smirk on his own.

“W-What? No!”