#its like with little children when people remind themselves

[blueflyingturtleontheway]

Don't you think it's a bit sad how socially if you're bad at something or something doesn't go your way you can talk about it freely and everyone is sympathetic and when something finally goes right everyone cheers

But if things usually go well for you you're supposed to shut up about it lest it sounds like you're bragging or trying to make others feel miserable and when something finally goes wrong everyone calls that "karma", is happy about your misfortune or tells you to suck it up because "everything else goes great for you why do you care"

I don't know I suppose I'm just a privileged whiny child that is upset that something isn't as good as she wanted it to be

[herlondonboy]

pretty when you cry, clarisse la rue

summary: based on this post by @kitten-reader

warnings: aphrodite’s kids are pricks lol, erm it’s really bad…

wc: 2.8k

your hair was something that you prided yourself on.

it was no doubt that you were beautiful beyond comparison to your fellow demigods, what with being the daughter of aphrodite. people couldn’t even compare you to your godly siblings.

you believed that your hair was the reason that your beauty was so great, so you natural worked hard on it.

in the world of olympians, you found solace and pride in the strands of hair that cascaded down your shoulders like a cascade of silk. your hair, a manifestation of your divine heritage, was more than just a physical attribute— it was a symbol of your identity and a testament to the grace and allure that came with being the offspring of the goddess of love.

from the moment you discovered your parentage, you embraced the inherent charm that ran through your veins, and it manifested prominently in your hair. unlike the messy, unpredictable tresses of some demigods, yours seemed to have a life of its own, obeying your whims and desires with a luxurious sheen that captivated those around you.

the secret, as you often shared with your fellow campers at camp half-blood, lay in the meticulous care you bestowed upon your locks. your morning routine became a sacred ritual— a blend of enchanted hair care products and divine techniques passed down through generations of aphrodite's children. a symphony of sweet-scented potions and ethereal brushes transformed the routine into a dance of beauty, each stroke accentuating the natural glamour that radiated from your hair.

you revelled in the attention your hair garnered, the way it shimmered under the sunlight as if kissed by the gods themselves. it became a beacon of confidence, a tangible manifestation of your divine heritage that set you apart from the sea of demigods at the camp. the other campers often marvelled at your ability to maintain such perfection, unaware of the divine secrets woven into every strand.

however, your relationship with your hair wasn't purely superficial. it served as a connection to your mother, a link to the goddess whose legacy you carried. the act of caring for it became a ritual that grounded you, a reminder of the divine blood that coursed through your veins and the responsibilities that came with it.

not unbeknownst to you, the envy and resentment simmered beneath the surface of the camp. the adoration and attention that accompanied your divine beauty fuelled the flames of jealousy among your fellow aphrodite siblings. little did you realise, being the favourite child of the goddess of love came at a cost, and that cost was the disdain of your own kin.

as you moved through the camp with the grace of a deity, your radiant hair attracting attention like a beacon, you, though aware of the hostile whispers that followed in your wake, chose to ignore. the other children of aphrodite, who were accustomed to being the centre of attention, couldn't fathom the idea of sharing the spotlight with someone they perceived as the golden child.

the jealousy manifested in subtle acts of exclusion and passive-aggressive remarks. your attempts to connect with your half-siblings often met with cold shoulders and thinly veiled animosity. the communal vanity table, where aphrodite's children traditionally gathered, became a battlefield of unspoken rivalry as they vied for the elusive title of the most captivating demigod.

yet, you, in your innocence, continued to extend kindness and friendship to those around you, oblivious to the resentment building in the hearts of your fellow campers. the intricate braids and enchanting hairstyles you generously offered to create for others only fuelled their frustration, as they struggled to reconcile the warmth of your gestures with the envy burning within them.

within the intricate dynamics of camp half-blood, one particular relationship defied expectations and unfolded with a complexity that left others bewildered. clarisse la rue, known for her brusque demeanour and a reputation that preceded her, stood as an unexpected confidante in your life. despite her gruff exterior and the scathing remarks she directed towards most campers, clarisse treated you with an unusual gentleness, and a unique bond formed between you two.

it all began during a chance encounter near the armoury, where clarisse, with her characteristic scowl, found herself inexplicably drawn to you. to the surprise of everyone witnessing the scene, her rough hands delicately traced the contours of your locks, as if handling a precious artefact. the camp's collective gasp echoed through the air, and it was then that an unspoken connection began to weave itself between you and the formidable daughter of ares.

clarisse, who seldom allowed others into her personal space, not only tolerated but seemed to relish the moments spent running her fingers through your hair. your shared interactions defied the logic of the camp's social hierarchy, leaving fellow demigods perplexed and intrigued by the peculiar alliance that had blossomed between you two.

as your friendship with clarisse deepened, it became apparent that her seemingly abrasive exterior masked a vulnerability that few had the privilege to witness. she confided in you about the weight of expectations placed upon her shoulders as the daughter of ares, the god of war. your hair, with its calming allure, became an unexpected refuge for her, a sanctuary where she could momentarily escape the demands of her tumultuous life.

in the quiet moments shared between you and clarisse, amidst the backdrop of a camp constantly on guard against mythical threats, an unexpected emotion began to stir— love. the kind of love that transcended the lines drawn by parentage and reputations. it was a love born out of understanding, acceptance, and the shared vulnerability that only the tumultuous world of demigods could evoke.

the camp, initially taken aback by the unlikely friendship, eventually came to accept the profound connection that had blossomed between you and clarisse. the daughter of ares, who once stood as an enigma wrapped in hostility, softened in the presence of your divine beauty and the solace found within the cascade of your hair.

as your feelings for each other deepened, the two of you navigated the complexities of love in a world fraught with danger. clarisse's protective instincts, honed on the battlefield, as well as in camp. together, you became an unlikely force, a symbol of love's ability to bridge even the most unexpected divides.

there was a time when a group of your own siblings, fuelled by jealousy and resentment, conspired to disrupt the tranquil rhythm of your bonds with your mother and girlfriend. one day, your prized possession, a hairbrush gifted by your mother, disappeared from its usual place. panic set in as you scoured the cabin, realising that this wasn't just a casual prank— someone had deliberately taken something sacred to you.

as whispers of the stolen hairbrush circulated through the cabin, the undercurrents of jealousy among your siblings bubbled to the surface. the mischievous culprits revelled in their act of sabotage, convinced that stripping you of this cherished item would somehow diminish the radiance that surrounded you.

it didn't take long for clarisse to sense your distress. the unspoken bond between you two had woven itself into a tapestry of mutual understanding, and she recognised the significance of the pilfered hairbrush. determined to right the wrong, clarisse took it upon herself to investigate the matter.

she confronted your siblings with an intensity that left them quaking in their sandals. her stern gaze bore into their guilt-ridden souls, extracting the truth like a seasoned interrogator. clarisse's usually thunderous voice carried a solemn edge as she demanded the return of the stolen hairbrush and an apology befitting the gravity of their actions.

unbeknownst to the misguided thieves, clarisse's reputation for ferocity on the battlefield extended to her protective instincts off it. the very fear she instilled in her enemies on the front lines was now directed at those who dared to threaten the tranquility of your connection.

under the weight of clarisse's unwavering determination, the guilty siblings caved. they returned the stolen hairbrush with bowed heads, offering apologies that bordered on genuine remorse. clarisse, satisfied with the swift resolution, ensured that justice prevailed, safeguarding the sanctity of the connection between you and the divine gift bestowed upon you by aphrodite.

as the stolen hairbrush was returned to its rightful place, the bond between you and clarisse strengthened. the trials you faced together only deepened the roots of your connection, intertwining your destinies in a tale of love, loyalty, and the unyielding power of shared vulnerability. in the heart of camp half-blood, where demigods navigated the tumultuous waters of existence, your story became a testament to the resilience of love against the currents of jealousy and deceit.

-

the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a fiery glow over camp half-blood, as clarisse la rue realised she hadn't seen you all day. a sense of unease settled in her chest, an unfamiliar concern that compelled her to seek you out. with each passing moment, her worry deepened, driven by a gut feeling that something was amiss.

clarisse traversed the familiar paths of the camp, her eyes scanning the bustling activity for a glimpse of your familiar figure. the ares cabin loomed in the distance, and a knot tightened in her stomach as she approached, not spotting you among the demigods sparring and training.

finally reaching the ares cabin, clarisse's unease morphed into genuine concern. where were you? why hadn't she seen you all day? the questions echoed in her mind, and she briskly entered the cabin, determined to uncover the mystery behind your absence.

there, in the dimly lit interior, she found you sitting on the edge of her bunk, your figure shrouded by a hood and a hat pulled low over your tearful eyes. the sight sent a ripple of worry through clarisse, and she rushed to your side, her gruff demeanour momentarily replaced by a genuine sense of care.

"hey, what happened?" clarisse asked, her voice softer than usual as she placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. your tear-streaked face turned towards her, and the anguish in your eyes tugged at her heart.

"they took it away," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. you repeated the words, a mantra of despair, and clarisse struggled to comprehend the source of your pain. "they took it away."

clarisse's brow furrowed, her eyes searching yours for an explanation. "took what away? what happened?"

with trembling hands, you reached up and pulled off the hood, revealing a mess of uneven strands that once cascaded in silky splendour. clarisse's eyes widened in realisation, her hand instinctively reaching to touch the shortened locks. the betrayal etched on your face told the story before you uttered a single word.

"they cut it," you sobbed, burying your face in clarisse's shoulder. "they cut it, clarisse. look at it, it's gone. all gone."

comprehension dawned on clarisse as she gently ran her fingers through the uneven strands. anger surged within her, a protective instinct for the one she cared about more than she ever thought possible. "who did this?" she growled, her gaze ablaze with fury.

you shook your head, unable to articulate the betrayal and cruelty that led to this moment. clarisse, however, needed no words. she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace as she vowed to make those responsible pay for the pain they inflicted.

in the sanctuary of the ares cabin, amid the echoes of your tearful revelation, clarisse became a pillar of strength, ready to stand by your side and face whatever challenges lay ahead. love, in its purest and most protective form, ignited within her, as the daughter of ares transformed into a fierce guardian of the broken and betrayed.

the night hung heavy with an air of tension as you cried yourself to sleep in clarisse's bed, the echoes of betrayal haunting your dreams. clarisse, ever the guardian, sat silently beside you, watching over your restless slumber. the flickering candlelight cast shadows on the determination etched into her face, fuelled by a fierce protectiveness that refused to be extinguished.

as your sobs eventually subsided into the quiet rhythm of sleep, clarisse rose from the bedside with a silent determination. in the dim light of the cabin, she retrieved her spear, its blade glinting with a subtle menace. the daughter of ares, had one mission— avenge you.

the night enveloped camp half-blood in a cloak of darkness as clarisse stealthily made her way towards the aphrodite cabin. the aura of the daughter of ares carried an intensity that reverberated through the quiet paths, heralding a confrontation fuelled by the depth of her feelings for you.

standing outside the cabin, clarisse's eyes narrowed with determination as she observed the shadows within. the miscreants who had dared to harm you needed to be taught a lesson—one they would not soon forget. gripping her spear tightly, clarisse pushed open the door, her gaze unwavering as she confronted your godly siblings.

the scene within was one of startled surprise as clarisse stormed into the cabin. her voice, usually thunderous on the battlefield, now carried a chilling calmness. "you touch her again, and i promise you, the consequences will be far worse than you can imagine."

the air in the cabin grew heavy with tension as the children of aphrodite, once filled with false bravado, now faced the unyielding force of clarisse's wrath. she recounted the pain you had endured, the tears that stained your face, and the betrayal that cut deeper than any blade.

in her hand, the spear gleamed ominously, a silent warning that spoke volumes. the children of aphrodite, their faces pale with fear, found themselves cornered by the very embodiment of wrath standing before them. clarisse's words echoed in the cavernous space, leaving an indelible mark on their consciousness.

with a final warning that carried the weight of a promise, clarisse turned on her heel, leaving the aphrodite cabin in her wake. the night embraced her as she returned to the ares cabin, a sense of satisfaction lingering in the air. the protective fire that burned within her had been unleashed, a fierce determination to shield you from further harm.

the following day, the morning light filtered through the windows of the ares cabin, casting a gentle glow over the space. you awoke with a heaviness in your heart, the memory of the previous day's betrayal lingering like a shadow. as you sat up in bed, clarisse entered the cabin, her eyes immediately locking onto yours. the weight of the night's events still etched on her features, but a newfound determination shone in her gaze.

"hey," clarisse greeted you, her voice softer than usual. she took a seat beside you, her hand gently resting on your shoulder. "we need to talk."

the air felt charged with a mix of vulnerability and strength as clarisse began to speak. "i know yesterday was rough, and i can't change what happened, but i need you to understand something." she took a deep breath, her eyes searching yours. "your beauty isn't defined by your hair. it's not just one thing that makes you pretty. it's everything."

clarisse began listing every part of you, her voice deliberate and unwavering. "your eyes– they hold a strength and depth that's beyond compare. your lips– they carry a warmth that can brighten the darkest days. your ears– they've heard laughter, pain, and everything in between. every part of you contributes to the unique beauty that is you."

you listened, the weight of her words sinking in, but doubt still lingered in your eyes. clarisse, undeterred, continued, "and, above all, it's your personality. your kindness, your strength, your resilience – that's what makes you truly beautiful."

a flicker of disbelief danced across your face, and clarisse recognised the challenge ahead. she persisted, her gaze unwavering. "say it. say you're beautiful because of your eyes, lips, ears, and every part of you."

you hesitated, the echoes of the previous day's betrayal still reverberating in your mind. "i can't- i can’t say that. not after what they did to me."

clarisse tightened her grip on your shoulder, her voice taking on a gentle insistence. "you need to believe it. it's not about them; it's about you. say it with me. you're beautiful because of your eyes, lips, ears, and every part of you."

it felt like a mantra, a repetition that tested the resilience of self-perception. clarisse didn't back down, patiently guiding you through each affirmation until the words became a declaration echoing within the walls of the ares cabin. "i'm beautiful because of my eyes, lips, ears, and every part of me."

as you repeated the words, something shifted within you. the doubt began to yield to the truth that clarisse so fervently believed. her unwavering support became a lifeline, anchoring you to a newfound understanding of your own beauty.

in that shared moment, surrounded by the strength of ares' cabin, you started to embrace the truth that beauty wasn't confined to a single aspect. it was a mosaic, a tapestry woven from the threads of every part that made you uniquely, undeniably yourself. clarisse, with her fierce love and unyielding determination, had become the mirror reflecting the truth you needed to see.

[n0tamused]

Will you stay?

A/n: save me sad dragon general, save me... sad dragon general you better get ready cause I'm sending happiness your way whether you like it or not

Content: Jiyan x Reader (fem implied, but no pronouns used), angst undertone but it all turns to fluff, Jiyan referred to as a husband, word vomit, non sexual nudity implied, not proof-read, maybe a tiny bit ooc? Feedback is appreaciated

Moonlight cascades through the open window in silky streams, showering the white sheets with silver and shimmer. The world is at peace, and quiet prevails all around, much unlike the main battle front. For only a few hours he spends here, Jiyan feels as if his lifelong wish is fulfilled. A facade it is, a dream, but it is comforting in all its delusion. Maybe one day it will come true, and he won't be forced to abandon your warm embrace for another month, and more, to fight.

His eyes move from the window and down at you where you have nestled yourself against his chest, your arms draped around him. It’s well into the depth of the night, yet both of you are denying sleep that so obviously hangs heavy over your eyelids - as any hour more means longer time spent together. And up until that point he has been listening to you talk about your days in the city, your fingertips tracing his chest and the occasional scar that paints itself thin and textured, different from the rest of his smooth skin. When you trailed off, he was quick to notice. His chin dipping slightly down to look at you.

Your finger neverending in its work of drawing him out, feeling him in all his warmth, living warmth - and your eyes lost themselves in images your mind conjured of what the battlefield looked like now. Red skies and twisted lands soiled with blood of people from the same city you were in now, the same people that were once someone’s little boys and girls, daddy’s girl and momma’s boys. Only now they were decades older with heavy bags under their eyes, lying in the desolate lands under trees for cover. 

“Don’t think about it.. don’t.. let that plague your mind, my dear” Jiyan spoke up, his hand coming up to cup yours that had begun to shake over his chest, fingers curling into your palms. Jiyan wished he could take this worry away from you, he wished he could protect you from the horrific unknown and all the terrifying images of your imagination, but such a task was an impossible one. Your bare body can only share his warmth and hold on to what is currently there.

“(Y/n).. “

“Tell me about your days..” you whispered, cutting him off as timidly as a petal of a flower. You pick your head up and place it on top of his chest, gazing into those golden eyes you had dreams of when he was gone. Pretty in all their glory, even as they regarded you with worry and question. Jiyan sighs softly, his eyes wandering to the ceiling and the small swirly patterns that show up with the moon. That was your choice to put up there, little swirls and dots and constellations..

“Days are long and tiring. I often miss the smell of the city while out at the front, and your cooking. The ingredients and supplies are scarce but we are alright, we are holding together, my dear” his words resonate softly in your ears, and to an extent they bring you comfort. His thumb is rubbing the inside of your palm, massaging the soft skin until the shakiness subsides, and furthermore. “During the down-time, when there’s no danger to confront, the soldiers always seem to find new ways to entertain themselves” at that a small smile broke over his solemn and tired features, prompting you to smile as well. He has told you before how men would jest and play, little children stuck in bodies of adults, chasing one another after one of them threw a boot at someone. It was a reminder all of these soldiers were people and that they were alive, but most importantly they still held onto their humanity and hope. So much hope that one could feel it from a mile away. 

“The other day, before our departure towards here, they were bold enough to attempt a small jest about me and it backfired, well it was unintentional frankly, I just happened to walk in on them. I suppose a new rumor broke out how I dismiss people from the military after I give them  medical assistance”

“What? That’s ridiculous.. You wouldn’t send anyone home unless they were really badly behaving or injured”

“Yes. But that doesn’t quell the rumors, especially among the new cadets, which makes me think this is some ploy of the more experienced bunch as to scare the youth But..as I was walking by the tents and corners I ran into this group huddled under the lamp, talking about this rumor. I’m not sure what came over me, but I just marched up to them and coldly began to question them, about what they were doing and such” A stupid smile came across his lips now, a childish one you relished in seeing and it make you physically perk up to hear the rest of the story. Your leg came over his waist as you tried to comfortably lay on his chest.

“One of those men had a pretty bad leg wound from the day prior, but nothing life threatening. However, he has been quite snarky with Captains and other soldiers, so I gazed at his bandaged wound, then up at him, and then I asked if he wanted me to take a look at it. The team went silent as a grave, my love- I..”

“The rumor had so much effect on them? Pfftt-” “Yes! I was quite shocked too, I had to hold back my surprise, but he went pale, I can’t even describe it to you. Whoever created this rumor really was creative, I need to give them that, but I really couldn’t play so long afterwards. I had to clear it up..”

You giggle at his words, forehead pressing against his collarbone as your chest flutters with warmth, just imagining this scenario was silly - has your husband become such a menace in the army? Him? Sure, he was skilled beyond belief, but the way he laid beneath you and the way he touched you could never make you believe he was scary. You know him, for crying out loud! And due to that, this was all the funnier.

Jiyan joined your fit of giggles, other hand rubbing and holding your back, pushing you up against his chest that jumped with cackles. “Goodness- now you’re laughing at me as well” he comments lightheartedly.

“Apologies, apologies, I can’t help myself” you respond and slowly come back to your composure with a long sigh of relief. “Those poor souls, scared by my precious husband. Perhaps I should start scolding you at home more often” Your hand sneaks from his hold and pinches his cheek teasingly, causing  him to click his tongue and pull away, reminded of the way his mother would do the same action when he was younger, although not so teasingly or playfully. His arms squeeze around your shoulders, his other arm soon joining its pursuit of keeping you still against him.

“Perhaps you should not. I missed you too much, but then again.. If scolding me is the way to hear more of your voice, I could get used to it..” Jiyan says as he releases his tight hold of you, letting you slump against his chest with a small exhale. “But now..” his lips found your forehead, pressing a lingering kiss to it before pulling away. “You must rest. I know how little sleep you got the last few days..” he says and reaches for the covers that were pushed down in your small tussle. The blanket covers your back and you instantly feel warmer, nestled here against him.

The thought of him leaving makes a pang settle in your heart once more, heavy and sharp. “Jiyan.. will you be able to stay for breakfast at least?” you ask him, hoping, wishing, praying.. just an hour will do.

“.. I will. I’ll wake you up, aright? We’ll cook something together..” There’s promise in his voice and it is undeniably prevalent and true, otherwise he would not be saying these things. Jiyan kissed your forehead again, hugging you against him and closing his eyes.

The upcoming morning suddenly became something to look forward to.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[voltronisanobsession]

So you like my ideas, huh? Well, I hope I can continue to create some good ones for you! I shall try my best 🫡

Oh! I do have one request in mind, how about Percy being paired with reader who’s the child of Athena? Yes, yes, I know an amazing half-blood known as Annabeth exists but I had something in mind.

We all know how children of Athena are seen as wise, intellectual, clever, and combative people but what if the reader was different than that? There’s several types of intelligence after all, so what if they specialized in emotional intelligence and craft?

I can see them being insecure of their “abilities” since they know their siblings can do better, and even fear that Athena herself is disappointed in them, but, while Percy thought it was strange at first, he soon found himself enjoying those traits.

I mean, with their emotional intelligence, the reader knows when he’s upset no matter how hard he tries to hide it, and they tend to give him gifts like Melinoe!reader. They’re probably usually architectural models, weavings, mini sculptures of what he enjoys… You know all that good stuff. They probably gifted him something as something to remember them by when he went on a quest… but I’ll leave that up to you.

Combat practice to bond/as dates 👀?

Also, I’m not sure if you saw, but I like long headcanons so stop apologizing and keep it up!/lh

Poor all of your thoughts into it if you have to or want, I like it!

Percy with a Child of Athena!Reader

I literally LOVE these detailed asks UGGHHH!! I love the idea of instead having a different form of intelligence as a child of athena like damn😍 I'm getting used to brain dumping on these, its a work in progress🙈

Sorry for answering so late😭

Lowkey this reader sticks out like a sore thumb amongst their siblings😭

I like to think that most Athena kids are usually on the more serious sides, so it surprises a lot of campers outside of the Athena cabin to see Reader extremely expressive!

While the other Athena children spend their time devising tactical plans for big camp games, reader is just on the side doodling architectural designs and whatnot

They aren’t as involved in what their siblings do because it doesn’t interest them much

Like whenever they try and ask for readers opinions and start using big ass words, they just smile and nod cuz they had no idea what the others were saying

Athena's children are extremely intelligent so its difficult for reader to be on the same wave length as their siblings

It lowkey makes them feel like an outcast in their cabin because they cant really connect with their siblings like they do with each other while they talk about subjects beyond reader’s comprehension

Constantly being surrounded by books, scrolls and maps full of knowledge, reader often beats themselves over not being able to comprehend and show interest in wanting to learn about these types of things

They’re led to believing that they are a defect amongst their mothers children (crying)

They are always surrounded by reminders of their own inabilities to match their sibling’s intelligence which is why they spend little time in the Athena cabin, and even littler time with their siblings

Readers only saving grace is that they are always in tune with peoples emotions and feelings, no matter how well or little they know the people around them

Whether its feelings of anxiousness, sadness, quiet anger, or happiness, reader always seems to know how a person is feeling!

The first time Percy meets reader is when he spots them at the crafting hut

Being one of his first activities in the beginning of the day, he notices how reader is always there before anyone else

Percy probably thought you were apart of the Hephaestus cabin or something like that with how many times he’s seen you sculpting and carving away at a new project every other day

So he’s surprised when you reveal that you’re actually a child of Athena

He would definitely notice how you distance yourself from your siblings, especially during breakfast, lunch and dinner

He’s good friends with Annabeth so he sees the differences between you, her and your siblings

While she and her siblings are more closed off and have their noses stuck up a new book everyday, your always seen drawing or weaving a new tapestry for your cabin

You show your emotions more openly compared to their more dismissive nature as well!

He definitely sees you as the 'social butterfly' of the Athena cabin

The more time he spends with reader though, he notices just how in tune they are with his feelings

He could give the smallest, most insignificant indication that he's had a bad day and you'd be able to read him like an open book

It's easy talking to you about his conflicting emotions, your patience and thoughtful expression gives him more confidence to just let everything out

I think he would definitely fall for how empathetic you are in many situations

You've made many friends with campers from different cabins because of this quality trait! Always learning and understanding a situation/conflict that arises, you're always able to resolve the problems that makes it fair for all parties involved

Despite this, Percy is confused and a bit surprised to find out that you're actually insecure about this dominating trait of yours

"What?! It's literally the best thing about you though!"

"I know but its just! My siblings aren't the way I am. They're able to actually use their skills for something. All I can do is listen to people and make friends. That's nothing special. I'm useless."

It PAINS him to hear you say that because its obvious you don't understand the importance of being as emotionally intelligent as you are

He makes it his mission to show you just how many people you've helped, to show you that you have a reason to be proud of what you're able to do!

You slowly open yourself more after hearing all his reassurance, from him and other people around camp

It's definitely a positive change as you have a pep to your step now. You engage with you siblings more now that you have a confidence in your own abilities.

You make him many sculptures as thank you gifts! Even when he says that you don't need to, you cant help admit that enjoy giving him these gifts with a nervous smile

You've made him a mini version Riptide and even have given him a small owl pendant

You were hesitant to give him the pendant because it seemed more intimate compared to your other gifts, but he happily accepted it with a soft smile

AND WHEN HE PUT THE PENDANT ON IN FRONT OF YOU YOUR HEART NEARLY LEPT OUT OF YOUR CHEST I CCANNTTT

I think reader would be pretty aware of Percy's feelings for them which makes them feel fuzzy

So imagine how you feel when Percy pulls up to you one late afternoon after not seeing him for the entire day to give you a small pendant of his own

The sculpting of the trident is definitely more crude and less detailed compared to the one you gave him, something Percy abashedly admits but you wave him off

"It's beautiful, thank you Percy."

"No problem, now we're matching!"

You're aware of your own feelings for him as you are aware of his feelings for you, so it doesn't take long for a confession to happen

I mean matching pendants? come on bro its so painfully obvious to everyone

Percy falls for who reader is, not because their a child of Athena

He doesn't care that you're different from your siblings because he understands everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses

You still represent Athena with pride and he'll happily support you till the end

PERCY IS SUCH A GREEN FLAG IN GENERAL I LOVE WRITING FOR HIM💔💔

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Lost and Found (dp x dc)

Alfred sighed as he looked over the wide gymnasium, thinking to himself that he shouldn’t have listened to Leslie. Community service was all well and good as a way to connect with people, but overseeing an inter-school bakery-sale-and-science-fair combined event was proving to be more chaotic than anything else.

As another child dropped yet another just-bought desert on the floor, Alfred slunk into the shadows deciding to let the clean-up be someone else’s task for once. As he got further and further from the main hubbub, the ex(?)-butler arrived near a small exit door and snuck out quitely. As the fresh air hit his face, Alfred let out a breath. Seeing so many children around had him thinking of his charge and where he could possibly be.

The older man hadn’t brought a pack, since he’s been going to a school, but in the moment he wished he had. Sighing once again, Alfred shook off the craving as he took a few steps towards the communal school garden when the sight of a black-haired boy sitting with his back to him had him freezing. A second later his brain caught up to him, reminding him that this was not young master Bruce. The crushing disappointment he felt as he recognized the boy in front of him was much to small to be his little master Bruce surprised him by its intensity.

Alfred took a moment to compose himself before he cleared his throat. The noise had the figure flinching and turning their head towards the older man. Then, as the boy caught sight of the older man, he seemed to slump. Seeing that he was unlikely to speak up first, Alfred took it upon himself to start the conversation.

“Might I inquire what you are doing outside, young man?”

The boy’s shoulder slumped even more though he still answered. “Haven’t got any sweets to sell,” he mumbled.

“Oh?” Alfred sounded out. “Why is that?”

“My cookies ate my homework so I had to put them down,” said the boy as he finally raised his head, long-suffering

But Alfred could only breathe a faint “Indeed?” as the boy’s features were exposed. The resemblance with master Bruce was so uncanny that the butler had trouble looking away. But as he examined him more closely he could see some minute differences. The boy didn’t have the sharp jawline both mister Wayne and master Bruce had shared. His nose was smaller than master Bruce’s and his eyes were paler than the darker blue passed down through the Wayne line. The sight of a face so similar and yet not quite like master Bruce had his mind jumping to the portrait hung above the manor’s fireplace and the face of the toddler sitting on his mother’s lap as a slightly older child stood beside her with his father’s hand on his shoulder.

Everyone had bemoaned the two-fold tragedy of the Waynes. First to lose their youngest son at such a young age, only to be themselves brutally murdered only a few months later. All was left of the previously illustrious Waynes was a grief-stricken eight-year-old who had just lost his brother and parents in such a short period of time. Alfred sighed as he remembered how angry master Bruce was at his inability to find out to this day what had happened to his brother. The man half-suspected this was how the young man had developed such an obsession with solving mysteries.

Once again having to focus back on the boy in front of him, Alfred smiled at the boy. Then, the boy’s word registered and the man let out an amused huff. “You had no choice but to put an end to that, I suppose. Cookies as spirited as yours would sell poorly in any case.”

“Oh you’ve got no idea,” muttered the young man as he pushed himself to his feet only for his hand to slip on the wet wood surrounding the gardening plots and falling face-first onto the hard wooden surface.

“Oh dear!” exclaimed Alfred as he darted to assist the boy in straightening up. The boy groaned in pain as he held his nose and Alfred could see drops of red falling down.

“Here,” said the older man as he handed the boy a fabric handkerchief.

“Thanks,” the teen croaked as he accepted it.

“Put your head between your knees,” Alfred instructed. “Breathe through your mouth.”

The boy offered a thumbs-up as he complied. Alfred waited patiently by the teen as he kept the handkerchief held against his nose. After a moment, the boy held it away experimentally and when he felt no more blood flowing he turned towards Alfred.

“Thanks,” he said before he looked down at the red-stained white fabric. “I can wash it and return it if you give me a return address.”

“It’s alright,” Alfred refused. “I don’t mind washing it.”

“Thanks,” repeated the boy as he handed the older man the handkerchief back, as he got to his feet, this time more gingerly. “I best get back before my friends start looking for me.”

“Be careful on the way back,” Alfred couldn’t help saying.

The boy hummed and as he turned around for a final wave goodbye, their eyes connected and Alfred felt a jolt travel through his body. Though the pale blue of Danny’s eyes was not the distinctive shade of the Waynes, it was however identical to the color of the late Martha Wayne’s eyes. As the boy opened the exit door and disappeared in the crowd of people, Alfred looked down at the blood-stained handkerchief.

He knew there was a less than infinitesimal chance. Still. What would it hurt to make absolutely sure?

[shallyouobeyme]

Castle

Platonic!Yandere Vampire ErasterMic!Family x Toddler!Reader (GN)

Summary: Upon a hill over a small town stands a castle. It's vampiric inhabitants get a sacrifice every generation, but one year, they find a little child bundled up in a blanket at their door.

! Minors Do Not Interact !

TW: Sacrificing a child (you), mention of mugging, fighting, attacks, murder + torture (not descriptive and not towards reader), vampires, being turned into a vampire, illness, dark content, I do not condone this - this is all just fantasy

There was a custom in a small town lying in the valley under a hill which adorned the horizon along with the great castle standing on top of it unshakable, permanent, unaging - just like its inhabitants. There were legends going through generations of people living in the castle's shadow. According to them, the castle housed four very specific, mythical creatures. A man of shadows who could only be seen in the night and whose sight was said to be linked with an imminent death. A banshee who could act like a siren and lure you in, only to them scream with the voices of all the souls who have lost their lives because of him. An undead boy who could make you see things, hear things, do things, which would shake any living thing to their core. And at the last, a girl pale as a sheet, with hair white as snow - a ghost, said to be one of their former victims (according to some even their first), who was hunting the castle to warn others who'd share her fate and remind the creatures who had caused her death of their rotten soul.

Along with the legends and myths, the custom developed as well - it came from a place of fear and dread, from a time when deaths rid the town of most of its people and the only cause they could discern was that they had attracted the anger of their mythical watchers - and now it was common practice for every generation to chose a sacrifice to bring to the gates of the castle to gratify the rage of it's owners. Usually, it would be one of the elderly who volunteered themselves, knowing that they had not long to live and wanting to see what all the legends were about at least once in their life. Because except for the sacrificial rite no one was allowed to climb the hill to the castle.

By the time the most unusual and determinative sacrifice happened, the medics of the town had realized that the deaths they had in the past blamed on the creatures were caused by natural reasons - most crucial, the plague. But still, the custom stayed, because why would they change the habit that had kept the townspeople safe for all these years? There was just one thing that was different by that time - it had probably been the result of more health and people having fewer children - but for the first time in generations, there were no elderly who were close to dying, all the elderly who were around were still healthy and fit. And so, one family offered to make the ultimate sacrifice, as they had a young child of only a few years of age who they'd be bringing to the gates. The child was old enough to walk and talk, but not old enough to understand what was happening. And furthermore, the child was ill and sickly. They had been born with their ailment and the doctors saw no possibility of betterment, giving them only a few more years of life before the ailment would take them.

And so it was decided for the best all to lose their child in exchange for the happiness of all the other children they would have and that were living around them. On the night of the summer solstice, their parents put the child into warm clothes and carry their sleeping form up the hill. They knew that the least they needed to do was bring them away together and spend their last moments on this earth as a family. When they arrived at the gate, they rolled their child in a blanket and laid her down in front of it, before the father took the mother's hand and used the knocker that would never work from that distance at any other house. The parents gave their child one last kiss and then solemnly made their way back down the hill to their lives.

On the opposite side of the gate were a family at dinner - or at least as similar to dinner as it was possible for this family. They were sitting around a table with chalices before them, filled with dark, red, liquid that some might assume to be wine. It was not. The family had been living in the castle for centuries. And it was not the fathers and mothers of the people living in it now, no, it had been the exact same people as were sitting around the table now, unchanged like the building they were living in. Unlike what the townspeople assumed, the family of vampires had no interest in ending the lives of the people below them, they had long since switched to an animal-based diet. Still, they also had no interest in stopping their little habit of sacrifices, because it kept them unbothered, and kept the people of the town just afraid enough to not dare enter their homes. And since the sacrificial humans were usually already smelling of death, they had no issue putting them out of their misery - giving the old humans the happiness of letting them know what they had been wondering about for their entire lives.

As the family was talking about the latest news and interests that had been going on in their very exclusive, very secretive society of vampiric creatures spread around the entire world, Aizawa looked out of the window and sighed. He wondered about how fast the last 25 years had passed, but stood up and went out to the gate nonetheless. He wondered a little bit about the unusual breathing and heartbeat pattern heard coming from the human. It had been centuries since he had bothered with visiting or listening to other humans so while his ears were as good as ever, he had some difficulties distinguishing between the differences in them just based on their sounds and smells. So he assumed that this human was just weaker than usual.

All this led to all the more of a surprise when he opened the gate and found not an elderly human looking to find their end for the greater good, but instead a little bundled-up child. You - looking slightly younger than their own daughter had been when she was turned by a nefarious vampire looking to extend their clan - looked so weak, so frail, and as Aizawa looked at you, for the first time in centuries he was reminded of his own time as a mortal. Back then he and Yamada had to hide their love, their romance forbidden for multiple reasons. Not only were they both men, no they were also part of opposite sides of a war, though on the nights when they both sneaked away to spend their time embraced without having to worry about the rest of the world, they spent their time dreaming of having a life together, living without fear and most importantly, taking care of a little life of their own. A child. And when they had been turned, that dream had been mostly fulfilled.

Now they were powerful enough to live without fear together and a few decades later they stumbled upon a dying boy - a mugger who had stolen from them earlier, but as they hunted him down to get their stuff back they found him giving away the stolen goods to the children living in the street without a way to make their own way of survival. When he had also thrown himself in the way of a fight that had escalated and an attack meant for Yamada, it had been clear to them they could not leave him to die. And so they turned him and gained their son. And while they loved him as if he was their own - he was in a sense, the bond forged by turning someone almost as strong as the bond of blood mortals had - he had still already been a young adult when they had 'adopted' him.

Their gaining Eri for their family had been similar. She had already been a vampire for years when they had saved her and while she still looked the part of a young child, she had already been mindful and conscious of things a child would never be, she was a teenager or even an adult trapped in the body of a child.

So when Aizawa looked down at you, he saw this dream of theirs, the dream of raising a child of their own, and he saw the possibility of that now happening. When he brought you back in it was safe to say that his idea was taken in with a lot of enthusiasm, Yamada taking you out of Aizawa's arms and cuddling you close to him - so very happy to have a little you like you so close to him. Oh, how adorable you were, how precious - it was like he finally found what he was waiting for all of his immortal life. Eri was over the moon as well, stating that she had always wanted to be a big sister, that she'd do her best to make sure you'd grow up safe and surrounded by love, and that she wouldn't let anything harm you.

Shinsou was the one who stated something that the rest of the family had forgotten to think about through their joy. Someone had sacrificed you to them, had left you to what they thought to be a soon and possibly painful death. Shinsou's eyes were filled with rage, infectious rage and bloodlust that he hadn't felt since he'd been turned first, as he thought about how someone could leave such a little, weak thing as you to your death knowingly. And so, you were left with Yamada who was not quite ready to let go of you yet, and Eri who insisted on you getting a room near hers (even though you'd spent your next years sleeping in your new parent's bed) and to be there when you awoke to keep you calm in your new surrounded.

While they were already planning your new life, Aizawa and Shinsou made their way down that hill for the first time in a long while, with fire and fury in their steps, knowing that they'd leave no one alive - all of the townspeople at fault for letting you be sacrificed in their eyes. They had only had you with them for less than a day, but one look at you cuddling into Aizawa and Yamadas was enough to have them put you into their hearts and they'd bring hell before letting you go again. So no matter if young or old, male or female or in between, sick or healthy, every single mortal in that town paid their due that day, most of all your own parents whom they recognized by their smell and made suffer for as long as they could before they felt like they needed to see you again to make sure you were doing okay and ended your families misery.

It was clear that your life would be very different from now on, you would be coddled and loved, spoiled and protected. You were still so young that you didn't really worry about the fact that there were these strange people calling themselves your daddies and siblings for longer than a month or two, after that, you accepted your new situation. You enjoyed the attention, loved playing with Eri, dressing up with Yamada, taking naps with Aizawa and getting told stories by Shinsou. Your new life was happy and joyful and you didn't even notice how protective and obsessive your new family was. Leaving the castle wasn't an option anymore - which you didn't worry about too much given how big the castle felt to you - and neither was being alone. There was always one of them with you unless you were sleeping, and even then someone was close to you, close enough to race to you when they heard the difference in breathing patterns of you waking up.

Upon multiple protective measures, it was Shinsou who took it into his hands to tell you stories that made you scared of being alone and leaving the safety of your home - it hurt him to see you so scared, but the feeling of having you run into his arms for comfort when you were afraid of a shadow outside of the window, made it all worth it. Only once you started seeing evil in anything outside and started fearing things around you once you were alone did he tone it down a bit, knowing that he would not have to worry about you leaving them for the time being. His parents had claimed that it wasn't necessary since someone was with you at all times, but they didn't intervene when he started so he assumed they were fine with it.

Aizawa and Yamada loved having your young innocent around them, it reminded them that there was still goodness left in the world, but they still decided that they would not turn you until you were old enough to agree to it. They couldn't promise that they'd listen to you even if you didn't agree - already knowing that they could never let you go - but they at least wanted you to have the opportunity to feel like you made the choice on your own.

Of course, there was still your illness. Your family had many connections in the world thanks to their community of vampiric friends so they had access to the top medication and the best doctors and you got all of that. Everything to make sure you were as healthy as possible and relieved of any pain. The only thing that might change the way they had decided your turning would go would be if your condition worsened if there was no chance of healing anymore. Then, turning you would be an immediate reaction. And who knows, maybe them having you being their little toddler for the rest of eternity - never growing and being coddled by them to make sure you stay as innocent as you are now - was the best thing that could happen to you since they had found you at their gate.

N/A: Thank you to @dumpster-dive-reading for the inspiration behind this and thank you all for reading this. If you enjoyed it I'd love to read your thoughts. Tomorrow's entry for Yandere Writetober is going to be 'dagger' and let's just say while I'm not sure yet, I have a very mischievous character in mind for this. See you then ❤️

[babsaros]

hey. when cis society is oppressing a trans man, what he is experiencing is. In Fact. misogyny. i'm sorry i know none of us like to be reminded of our agab, and it hurts whenever people perceive you as the wrong gender. but a cis person hate-criming, assaulting, verbally abusing, etc, a trans man is not doing "transandrophobia" because they do not perceive him as a man.

they perceive him as a woman failing at her gender, as a woman who has been seduced and lied to and manipulated because women are so easily led astray, just like it says in the bible. they perceive him as a woman who has been mutilated. they perceive him as a dyke that needs to be fixed. if they are hate-criming him because they *do* perceive him as a man, because he passes well enough they aren't thinking he could be trans, then they're doing so out of homophobia, perceiving him as a gay man, a pervert, a sissy, a danger to children. OR, they are being transphobic but specifically because they think he might be transfeminine instead. when cis society oppresses a trans woman, they are able to do it on multiple levels at once. She's a woman failing at her gender, a dyke that needs to be fixed. Or she's an evil and grotesque crossdressing pervert, a rude caricature, a danger to polite society. she will never be doing enough to escape oppression entirely, no matter if she gets every surgery she can and wears makeup every day and passes perfectly, because she lives under a patriarchy, and she's a woman, so she lives in a panopticon, and HAVING to get surgery and wear make-up to be respected IS oppression, especially if the alternative is being hate-crimed.

trans women (and trans men who pass) are not experiencing "transandrophobia" when a 'queer women and nbs" event turns them away at the door for being too masculine. they are. IN FACT!! experiencing the byproducts of misogyny in a patriarchy!!! where the terfs and coward cis women running those events and occupying those spaces have been taught (sometimes through experience, sometimes by men, sometimes by women) throughout life that men = stronger and more dangerous than women ALWAYS. That they need to protect themselves at all times and always be vigilant. That men and women can't be friends without sexual tension (and so as queer women the mere existence of what they perceive as a "man" is a threat). That women need a separate sports league because they can't possibly compete with someone who has even a little bit "extra" (an unquantifiable amount actually because there isn't a standard range) testosterone. That women should cook and men should fix cars. i promise you, i promise i promise i promise. it's misogyny. like!!! you don't say cis gay men experiences "androphobia", bc that's not a thing!! you sound like fucking mens rights activists guys please! you don't say a black man experiences "misandrynoir"!! because living in a patriarchy fundamentally means men do not experience oppression based on their gender. its not happening. shut the fuck up. stop walking us back to 2014 can we please take a step forward and stop bitching about this. there are genuine issues in the world and i'm frankly sick of people who should be smarter than that needing to be gently hand-held through this fucking explanation for the millionth time and still stomping their feet.

[apomaro-mellow]

King&Prince 7

When Eddie returned to the castle, it was in the form of a raven. He perched himself on the outside of Steve's window. The prince was deep asleep and of course, looked completely harmless. Eddie knew not to be fooled by that though. Dustin looked downright cherubic when he slept but could still be an absolute menace. This was a prince, meaning he'd been taught in the ways of strategizing your next move and making every moment count.

It was very likely that he was just regaining energy for an escape attempt later on. Nancy's worries didn't fall on deaf ears. At the time, the reason Eddie didn't put a constant eye on him was because Dustin seemed attached to him already. Now that he was out of the cell, Dustin would probably seek him out at all hours. Which meant the prince wouldn't be able to get far before the young boy mentioned to someone that he couldn't find him.

He was dangerous. Eddie had to remind himself of that even as the prince was surrounded by softness and his face was smoothed of all tension.

The next morning, Steve was awakened by someone banging on the door. "Up and at 'em! Time for work!", Robin shouted through the door.

Steve got up, almost reaching for the doors of the wardrobe before remembering there wouldn't be anything there for him. All he had were the clothes on his back. Even the ones he'd come in with, dirty and wrecked, had been taken. Probably tossed, useless as they were.

He took a quick look at himself in the bathroom mirror. It wasn't too bad. His hair was lacking in its usual style, falling over his forehead, and there was still a bit of darkness under his eyes, but at least he didn't have that layer of filth anymore.

Steve let out a sigh when Robin pounded on the door again. He understood people's problem with him, that didn't mean he liked it.

"What, no breakfast?", Steve asked when she all but dragged him down the hall. They passed a few people who had sneers and glares to spare. At least back home people knew how to hide their disdain for him.

She put him to work in the music room again, arranging chairs with a prepared diagram. He heard someone call her name and she was out of the room, leaving him by himself. Steve wondered if they were just underestimating him or if they were that confident in their security. Steve continued to work for a few minutes before deciding to try and venture outside.

The moment he stuck a foot out the door though, a gaggle of kids were out in the hallway, waiting for him.

"See! I told you!", Dustin exclaimed.

Mike's jaw was on the floor. "They've got you doing chores?!"

"That's gotta be all he's good for", a red-headed girl he didn't recognize said.

The rest of them included Will, Lucas, and another girl he'd never seen before and they started arguing among themselves about Steve and his uses right there.

"Hey, hey!" Steve clapped his hands. "Has no one ever taught you brats any manners?"

"Do you really think so little of us?", Dustin asked.

"Forget it. I've got work to do." Anything to not be surrounded by a random group of children. But just as Steve went in to finish putting up the chairs and arranging the instruments, he was followed right away by the kids, discussing very loudly what was to become of this whole music lesson thing.

"What gives Eddie the right to tell us what to learn?", Lucas asked.

"He's literally in charge of everything else", the red haired girl, Max, said.

"And you guys had no complaints about him making sure you get educated in other things", Mike said.

"Because every young child should have a healthy dose of math, science and the arts", Dustin said.

"Guess what music counts as", Will grinned.

There was that Eddie guy again. Apparently in charge of what these kids learned. Maybe he was some sort of headmaster? Or some kind of higher up here. But Steve had never heard a title attached to their name. Not a lord, or duke, or even a mr. So just who was he to these kids. Steve's interest was almost piqued to ask but he had other things to worry about. Like filling his stomach.

His stomach growling was somehow heard over the cacophony of voices and it was heard by El. Steve had only known her for about fifteen minutes and yet she unnerved him. She laughed and smiled like any child and yet there was something lurking underneath the surface with her.

"He's hungry", she commented.

"Time for lunch then", Dustin decided.

Steve was somehow corralled by them all and he found himself taken to the castle kitchens. He was taken aback by the sights and smells. It was just like the kitchen back home, when he used to sneak down as a kid. The only difference was that instead of a numerous staff, there were much fewer people.

That and some of the pots were stirring themselves. Steve went up to one in awe.

"Magic?"

"Cooking magic", Will explained.

"Sit down, children", a voice said from deeper into the kitchen and Steve was pulled to a small table in the corner with chairs for all of them. The moment they did, a tray of warm bread floated to land in the middle and bowls of soup came flying towards them, landing without spilling a drop.

"Thanks mom!", Dustin called out.

Steve's mouth watered. He'd been eating scraps for days and none of it had been warm. He took his first bite and nearly cried. It was so good. some of the best he'd ever had. The kids were still talking, but Steve hardly paid whatever topic they were discussing any mind. He was too focused on the food. That and the fact that they didn't seem at all bothered by him.

The king's minions had attacked him and thrown him into a dungeon without any thought. The king himself hadn't shown his face until he was sure that Steve had no value as a bargaining chip. That Robin woman saw him as a pack mule and used him as such. The few adults in the kitchen would openly glare at him and Steve wondered if he should worry about poison in his food.

But Dustin and his friends...it was like they didn't care.

Robin appeared just as they finished eating to drag Steve to the library and have him move books around. Steve thought that at least he'd be free of the kids, but of course they weren't too far behind. The idea of library manners were lost to them as well, as they kept their normal volume around what must be thousands of books.

The next couple of days went very much the same, Steve being led around by Robin to reorganize the library. Sometimes it was blessedly quiet, the rest of the time, Dustin was there, asking questions about him or his kingdom which usually prompted some kind of argument amongst his friends.

Somehow, despite himself, Steve started to like them. They even got a laugh out of him once or twice. Dustin was bright, if a bit self righteous. Max was always instigating and it was clear she had fun doing it. Will had a sweet face but wasn't afraid to speak his mind. From what he gathered, they all lived here in the castle, and some of their parents were in the staff.

It was such a routine, that Steve was confused when Robin didn't come to get him one morning. He thought he should wait, but when it got close to noon, well he had to leave in search of food. He was still barefoot, but thankfully that wasn't much of a problem. What was a problem was how he was turned around and didn't know where he was going.

He heard some voices from around the corner and thought of asking for directions before remembering his place. If anyone other than the kids saw him walking around unescorted, they'd probably think he was up to something. Steve ran in the opposite direction, avoiding places he heard people talking and ended up in what looked like a sparring arena. The roof opened up to let the sun in and there was a wall of weapons. The area for sparring itself was a simple arena in the dirt and there was Lucas in the middle of it, struggling to lift a sword that was about as tall as he was.

"Uh, I can explain", Lucas said.

"No need", Steve said, mostly because he didn't want to have to explain what he was doing. "You're obviously in the middle of training." He looked to how big the sword was and how there was no teacher in sight. "A little advice, choose a weapon you can pick up."

Lucas frowned. "Why don't you show me, since you're so badass? Dustin told me you know all these techniques but so far I've just seen you carry stuff."

Steve raised a brow as he walked over and took the sword from Lucas. "Carrying stuffy counts as heavy lifting." He took a step away to get a safe distance and swung the sword with ease. "For now, you might be better with that", he used the sword to point to a rapier on the wall.

"That twig?"

"Think it's too much for you to handle?"

Lucas snorted and took it off the wall. He swung it around, not too confident in it. "Looks like it'll break if I went up against that", he gestured to the broadsword Steve had.

"It's not meant to go head to head like that", Steve said, sure that Lucas was imagining his sword slicing down right on top of Lucas' blade. "Real sword fighting is about using your skill to create an opening to land the right blow."

"Isn't most fighting like that?"

"Just shut up and show me your stance."

------------------------

Nancy was running through her to do list in her head. Spring would be coming soon and while the human inhabitants would be celebrating and holding festivals, the demo-creature population would be preparing for hibernation and there were things that needed to be arranged.

Her thoughts were interrupted by sounds coming from the sparring room. Neither she nor Jeff and called upon anyone but the room could be used by anyone trying to brush up their skills. Curious as to who was putting in extra work, she was surprised to see Lucas clashing swords with the prince. She didn't see anything else but red. She didn't see the smile on Lucas' face or how slowly Steve seemed to move.

She pulled out a dagger first, throwing it right in front of the prince's nose to get him to back off before unsheathing her own sword and getting between him and Lucas.

"Whoa! That was too close! You could've hurt him!", Steve said.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!", Nancy shouted back.

Lucas put a hand to her shoulder from behind. "Calm down, he was just-"

"Stay behind me. I knew something like this would happen." She advanced, raising her sword against Steve.

He was surprised at her ferocity when she was so small. That was when he remembered. "You were part of the ambush!"

"I should have killed you then", Nancy declared while actively trying to kill him. "Eddie was wrong, you're-"

Steve cried out when he tripped on a stray rock, cutting his foot in the process. It caused him to fall forward, which Nancy wasn't prepared for. A rush of black smoke was their saving grace, pushing Steve away and cushioning Nancy before turning into a man that held her close. Not just any man, of course. The king.

And just like most of the court, all he had for Steve was a hardened glower. Lucas had been stupefied into silence but spoke up when he saw the blood.

"Listen, it's not what it looks like! Steve was helping me train."

"And why would he do that?", Nancy demanded to know as she righted herself. "You know we're not taking on anyone new until training officially starts. You shouldn't even be in here."

"Yeah, well he was", Steve said, ignoring the pain in his foot for now as he sat up. "And he needed some pointers."

The king's eyes narrowed. "So you took it upon yourself to train him?" Then he looked to Lucas. "And that's the story you're going with?"

"It's not a story, it's the truth. We were just practicing", Lucas said.

The king stared down at the prince, thoughts running through his head. He approached and Steve held up his sword. His foot might be hurt, but he could still fight if this beast wanted a challenge. To his surprise though, the king paused, and held his hands up like he was trying to show he meant no harm.

He glanced down at Steve's foot. "Let's take care of that first. Everything else can wait."

"I don't need your help", Steve said, rising to his feet. He took a step and while he held back a hiss, he was able to move just fine. He knew he was dripping blood but his pride kept him from looking down. He let the sword drop to the floor. He'd find his way back to his room and tear a bandage from his sheet or something.

He let out a yelp when suddenly he was lifted up into the king's arms and when he blinked their faces were just a breath apart.

"I can appreciate being too proud to accept help, but I won't have you trailing blood around the castle."

Steve had no choice but to cling to him. Walking or being carried, his blood would still drain from his foot, so he could see how it mattered. The king carried him anyway sat Steve on his bed where a bandage cloth was already waiting, as well as a basin of water. He was set down on the bed and Steve expected to be left alone to dress the wound but the king surprised him yet again by kneeling and starting to wash his foot.

"You're...You're the king, aren't you?", Steve asked.

"That I am."

Steve didn't think he needed to elaborate. Kings didn't kneel. For anyone. And they especially didn't help enemy royalty with cuts and bruises. They didn't carry them to their rooms. It made no sense at all for King Edward to treat him like this, especially after what he had to endure in his cell.

"Why were you helping Lucas?", he asked.

Steve shrugged. "Kid needed help. He was trying to lift a sword as big as he was."

"Hmm. Well, considering the current state of affairs, it's been irresponsible of me to leave you unattended for so long. So you'll be getting a new guard detail, starting tomorrow."

That sounded more sensical than anything else that had happened so far, so Steve didn't even question it. Someone came by to drop of dinner, but besides that, Steve didn't see anyone until the next day when the king himself appeared at his door with a pair of well worn boots.

"Of course. You're my guard."

"No one better", the king grinned.

Part 9

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie @goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble @jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24 @justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void @nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things @nicememerino @robininblue

[billpottsismygf]

Space Babies! Weird episode, but it had a charm. I had already prepared myself for the fact that RTD's era was notoriously camp and weird, and that I would for the first time be experiencing new episodes by him as an adult rather than as a 9-13 year-old, so it's not news to me that there would be some campy nonsense with a deeper message, and that this might be more jarring than I'm used to. The deeper themes were really thrown out (refugees, anti-abortion hypocrisy, genocide, capitalism) without being dwelt on, but that's not necessarily a problem.

The babies themselves were... a little unnerving? The mouth movements were quite uncanny, along with their voices and the general "I love you, Ruby!" of it all. I've just now made the connection that the latter puts me in mind of adverts for baby dolls.

The gunky snot monster felt very early 2000s British children's TV. If you weren't there for that, just know there was so much slime; think Slitheen exploding. I am very glad it got rescued. Nice message with the Doctor not usually running from things just because they look scary and, even though this is a creature specifically manufactured to be scary, it still deserves a shot at life.

It feels like a strange story to start with because I suspect it'll have mixed reviews. I would think you'd want a slightly more solid episode to draw people in with. Anyway, there was still a lot of thought put into making this a proper jumping off point with all its Doctor Who 101 stuff. Funny for a long-time viewer hearing it all rattled off in record time, but important to establish for new people, and I do think it's important for the show to remain accessible to people who haven't been obsessing over it for twenty years or more.

As a jumping off point, it very specifically reminded me of The End of the World. There's the big observation deck on a space station where the new companion, in her second episode and first off-world adventure, gets her phone updated so she can call her mum, in particular. The parallels to Rose are interesting, especially with the lecture the Doctor gives Ruby about how they can't travel back to meet her missing parent(s).

Speaking of that, there's some intrigue there with the snow appearing and the memory changing. I didn't like the Doctor doing a DNA scan of Ruby without her knowledge. It feels very 11th Doctor, especially when he literally scanned Amy and withheld medical information, but also the way he treated all his female companions as mystery boxes to solve without telling them. I guess we'll see what that's all about at a later point.

I'm still not completely sold on Millie Gibson, but Ncuti Gatwa is wonderful, and I do really appreciate their chemistry.

Small things:

Jocelyn was a good character, and the Nan-E filter made me laugh several times.

That place name before the Doctor turned the translation circuits off was absolutely not in English. Slightly weird way to phrase that line if it's going to be called Pacifico del Rio.

This is a very early point in the series for Ruby to get a TARDIS key! We're really speedrunning the usual steps here.

[n0n-sen-se]

𝐊𝐍𝐘 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 ❛𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬❜!

includes ;; mitsuri. gyutaro. kagaya. doma. content ;; bruises. fluff. maybe, obviously, a bit suggestive! a/n ;; ❛love bites❜ are also known as a ❛hickey❜ . i tried to include a mix of characters and reactions, hope y'all adore them as much as i do! ♡

☆☆☆ # mitsuri kanroji !

getting caught! is her absolute nightmare. she'd be talking casually to shinobu, enjoying her meal when shinobu points out ❛all those little red-marks on your neck❜ with a teasing giggle. mitsuri would be mortified. just stops talking for a second frozen- and when she remembers how the love bites got there she clamps a hand over her mouth and desperately tries to hide them with her white haori. for the next hour she'd be spluttering together excuses while shinobu tries to ice her heated face.

her thoughts! exactly the same as when someone else points them out. she gets embarrassed to the point of feeling faint. . . but once the initial shock wears off and she gets used to them. its impossible to admit to anyone else, but she likes how they look (the tiny ones are adorable) little reminders that she's loved so deeply. she likes to keep them for herself though, and covers them up with makeup when they occur (its a pretty bad cover-up. . . but it works!. . . most times)

☆☆☆ # gyutaro shabana !

getting caught! its actually hard for it to come up in 'conversation'. either nobody notices at first, because of his skin (he picks at it all the time so its not too suspicious) or nobody pays him much attention. when it does, it's daki that points it out: ❛where'd you get those hideous things from?❜. initially, gyutaro doesn't know either until it dawns on him. . . a shaky smile starts pulling at the corners of his mouth, rubbing his neck, lost in thought.

his thoughts! he's got a forearm resting above a mirror, leaning in close to his reflection to study them. i mean, they're just little bruises. no big deal. if anything, he frowns, they're ugly marks you gave him. . . that you gave him. . . ❛heh. hehheh❜ he. . . actually likes the sound of that. and although he usually loathes looking in the mirror; you know what, he actually thinks they're kinda. . . pretty.

☆☆☆ # kagaya ubuyashiki !

getting caught! its an unusual scenario. he's gathered the hashira to meet with him once more, discussing initial plans to have them all separate and patrol different areas when he hears. . . snickering? whispers and giggles folding over themselves and his voice. ❛what's got you all riled up? something important on your minds?❜ all of them will deny anything, telling him not to worry etc. its only when kagaya beckons over a poor kakushi that he learns the truth. the only indication of his reaction is the subtle lift of his brow ❛let's continue discussing the plan shall we?❜

his thoughts! he can't see them, but he feels his skin, pressing gently on the parts that are tender. its a warm revelation, like a gift that just floods his chest with sunlight. he loves them, truly, but it's better to hide them from his children, its a little. . . unsavory. he'll just bundle a white scarf underneath his kimono, draping it high above his neck in hope's he's actually covered them all.

☆☆☆ # doma !

getting caught! i mean come on- he's practically daring someone- anyone to say something about it. leaning in too close to people, bending and flaunting his neck in hopes someone will point it out. it'd be someone like gyokko that finally breaks the ice ❛doma, what are those unique markings on your skin?❜ he'd be all too happy to oblige gyokko (or anyone's) questions. always answering with a coy smirk.

his thoughts! he's obsessed with this display of affection and worships everything about it. he'd wear them with pride, sitting on his thrones with jewels and luxuries, thinking about nothing but the marks on his skin and how he must look to his worshippers (do they think they're as holy as he does?). he'd want more- a lot more. likes to just sit and stare at it sometimes, silently hoping they'd stay their forever. (of course they won't, but he can dream) disappointed when they heal.

[apompkwrites]

the tortured draconia || malleus draconia

masterlist characters: n/a genre: angst contains: torture/gore (specifically ripping out wings), lil draconia cannot catch a break :( summary: for (name)'s final test to become a servant of the palace, they have been tasked with hunting down a beast of the briar. notes: so uh this is what i was talking about when i said I'm not above physically hurting the black sheep :) used some french mythological creatures so have fun with that :D parts: [og post] | [previous] | [next]

deep in the forest of briar valley live monstrous beasts with gnashing teeth and serpent-length tails, said to be the cause of disappearing fae all over the valley. children are warned to steer clear of the forest's edge, lest they be snatched up and eaten whole by the beasts of the briar.

you remembered hearing that story as you grew older and as your curiosity about the forest's inhabitants grew alongside you. but miss leah was quick to erase those thoughts from your mind, urging you to never step foot past a single tree.

and yet, here you were, clad in a black coat with the hood tossed over your head to hide your horns. the people of briar valley didn't bat an eye, ignoring you as you flew through the sky toward the edge of the forest.

it was eerily quiet, especially given how the stories of regular forests outside of briar valley talked about the lively flora and fauna. it was as if the forest was an entirely different world, separated from the valley to make its own ecosystem.

with a deep breath to calm your nerves and a shake of your hands to stop the jittering, you stepped into the shrubbery, disappearing into the dark green brush.

the forest was still, despite you being caught up in the center of it all. the only sound was the occasional swish of leaves as the wind blew through the clearing.

with all of the silence, your mind wandered to the tales of the beasts of the briar. many of the younger servants would whisper amongst themselves about the nearby woods, worried about a supposed beast that could very well pounce out of the bushes to attack the palace.

sometimes, there were rumors of a beast of the briar that had thorns sticking out of its body, more than likely a result of the various thorn bushes that lined the edge of the castle.

the supposed beasts of the briar were feared by all, a permanent reminder of the cruelty of the hidden species of briar valley. it was always a thought in the back of people's minds how the valley housed so many creatures that strayed from fae eyes.

how many creatures exist in the valley?

you didn't get to ponder much on that question when a sharp pain rushed through your back.

you came crashing down to the grass floor, dirt staining your cheek and hands when you tried to cushion your fall. it was hard to see what exactly attacked you at first, its entire body weight keeping you pinned to the ground for a few seconds. but once it let up, you managed to crane your head over your shoulder to look at the cause.

gnashing teeth.

serpent-length tail.

and thorns poking into its skin.

you only managed a sharp scream for a moment. it was silenced just another moment later when your consciousness was ripped away.

you had heard one story of a creature, or rather people, in the forest. it was so long ago that you truly thought you had made it up.

the fae in white, also known as the white fae, are dangerous creatures that take refuge in the forests and caves surrounding briar valley. not much is known about these wild fae solely because no one has returned to tell the tale.

it was short, not very sweet, but it sent chills down your spine when you first heard it.

"come, little dragon, wake up," a sweet voice lulled to you, drawing your consciousness out into the forefront. you let out a little groan, your back still aching from the attack that drove you into the ground.

when your vision cleared, no longer hazy and blurry, you saw nothing but a rocky floor. now that you thought about it, it had to be a cave, right? the large flood of light was enough to prove your hypothesis.

you tried to move your arms, but the weight of your own heavy body along with the thorned restraints kept you from doing so. the spikes drove into your skin, drawing out blood the more you moved. you let out little whimpers and squeals, refusing to scream out, lest your shout echoes along the cave's walls.

for a brief moment, you felt something flutter on your back.

"ah, there you are," the voice cooed once more, a cold hand sliding up your neck and chin, tilting your head towards them.

the fae was stark white, both in clothes and skin. she had sunken black eyes as if she hadn't slept in centuries. her long black hair fell over her shoulders in strands, knotted together to make thick strips of hair that seemed like a pain to comb through. she wore something akin to a nightgown, held together with little thorned vines as if they were stitches.

"welcome back to the world, little dragon," she giggled, her hand moving up to stroke the side of your horn. she hummed to herself as if satisfied with the feeling of your horns against her skin.

"wh...who...?"

"no need for introductions, lovely," she mused, her fingers continually dancing along your horn. "you won't be here a moment more than needed."

she gave you not more than a second to gather your thoughts before more searing pain shot through your body. this time, it wasn't a stabbing pain like when the beast sunk its teeth into your back.

no, no, no. it was a shooting pain in two spots on your back. exactly where your wings were located.

now you were no longer concerned with keeping your screams down. you screeched at the pain in your back, thrashing around in the confines of the thorned vines, unbothered by the minor pain of them digging into your skin. frankly, you were more concerned with the fact that you now knew the reason why fae did not live to tell the tale of the fae in white.

they were stripped of their wings and left for dead in these caves, maybe even fed to the beasts of the briar.

"oh, hush," the fae in white sang, her other hand that had been tugging and tearing at your wing now being jabbed into your wing roots. it was as if she was digging through dirt in search of a plant's roots. she effortlessly scooped through your skin, her fingers grasping at the root of your wing.

and, in a single, horribly painful, motion, she tore out your left wing.

"my, my," she cooed at both the wing laying still in her hand and at the sound of your screams and cries. "to think i would be bestowed the honor of stealing away the wings of a draconia... i wonder."

she paused for a moment, her hand, the one not holding your dismembered wing, danced up the curve of your horn once more.

"i have never tried to take a horn before... but first."

just like before, the searing pain in your back increased tenfold as she tore your other wing from its roots. your cries were now squeals mixed with whimpers and whines.

"i'd advise you to bite your tongue, little dragon," she spoke in a soft voice before grabbing ahold of both your horns, yanking at them as if they would pop out of your skull. "ah, they're attached. i'm not a fan of killing my prizes, so..."

crack

instead of digging her hands into your skull--that would surely kill you--she sliced just above the base of your horns. they cracked at the force, leaving behind two small slivers on your head.

"perfect," she cooed to herself, unwrapping the thorned vines from your body. she scooped up her prizes, the last remnants of your draconia blood, and seemed to disappear into the light that flooded in from the cave's entrance.

and all you could do was fall onto the ground, too weak to move a muscle on your own.

had you managed to maintain a second more of consciousness, you would have felt your body lift from the ground, into the secure hold of your savior.

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[lorbanery]

I just need to talk about Dick Grayson and Jon Kent's relationship for a minute

Just 'cause I keep seeing people file it under the typical Super-Bats dichotomy (Bruce and Clark, Tim and Kon, Jason and Bizarro, Damian and Jon)

BUT

Have you considered: Dick is the Superman to Jon's Robin?

Just

Just listen

There's the obvious justification that's just "Dick is much older than Jon", sure. But there's more nuance here.

Dick is different people to different generations of heroes.

To his own generation he's the responsible best friend everyone knows they can rely on, but also know better than to think of him as superhuman because they've all seen him at his worst (and by worst I don't just mean "most depressed" I mean most "shouting at his four year old niece" bitchy asshole).

I'm skipping Jason because he doesn't have his own generation he just kind of awkwardly pilfers people from Dick's and Tim's until they'd willingly shank Batman for him.

To Tim's generation he's a legend who they quickly realized is actually almost as out-of-touch as the first gen heroes. They're like a big queer friend group and he's the one kid's kind of square straight older brother. He's cool, he's supportive, he's always willing to drive them places, covers for them when they ditch class or are out past curfew, and he WILL throw down with anyone's homophobic parents; but he always has a lecture ready about underage drinking and while he laughs along with their "I'm too gay for this" jokes, you can tell he doesn't really get them. At least he's always excited for Pride. He buys himself a new "ally" shirt every year.

(Disclaimer: Previous paragraph was meant merely as a demonstrative metaphor and not to express any definitive opinion on Dick Grayson's sexuality. @ DC Comics let that boy be bi)

But to Damian's generation? Dick Grayson is a parental figure. When Damian and Jon were first starting out their superhero careers, Dick was not only acting as Batman, but as Damian's guardian, two roles most people, in-universe, expected him to be in permanently. And for Jon Dick wasn't just his friend's dad; when Clark had to leave Earth, forcing Jon to step into the role of Superman, and Jon expressed concern over being up to the job, Clark specifically told Jon to seek out Dick.

Because Jon, of course, was a teenager facing down not only the responsibility of being a superhero, but of bearing the weight of being a famous figure of hope. Something Dick had already done as the first Robin, and had helped at least a little two other teenagers navigate.

Now, I'm going to take a little tangent here to explain why Dick is the Clark in this situation.

When we talk about Dick's tragic backstory, a lot of little details change from retelling to retelling; but the one thing that stays consistent is the fact that Bruce took him in because Dick reminded him of himself. They both watched their parents get murdered at a young age (sometimes the exact same age, depending on the retelling); neither of them had any immediate family to take them in; both of them were only children who suddenly found themselves with the burden of being the sole carrier of their family's significant legacy. But that's pretty much where the similarities end.

Bruce was raised in a wealthy family, in a mansion in a major metropolitan city where his family had deep roots all the way back to its founding. Dick was raised by a very much working class family that lived out of a trailer/wagon/train most of, if not the entire year, traveling all across the country and/or globe. If they had a permanent residence anywhere, it was probably one of the suburbs around Tampa that were historically the off-season homes for circus performers (at least that's where I would put it).

Bruce was able to stay in his childhood home with a guardian who'd known him his whole life, who knew his family history and legacy. He was able to step into his family's legacy when he grew up and even expand it well beyond what his parents did.

Dick had to leave not only the circus he grew up in, he had to leave behind the entire community and culture and ended up being raised in a world that was completely different from it. Raised by a man who certainly respected his family and their history, but didn't know much about it or what their hopes and expectations had been for Dick.

While the path that eventually led him to becoming Batman began, for Bruce, that night when his parents were murdered, he didn't actually start seriously working towards and mentally taking on that responsibility until he was much older. In some cases he was in high school, in some not until after he graduated. But he taught himself and learned how to be a hero as an adult. He was in his twenties when he was taking the responsibility of other people's lives onto his own shoulders; when he was learning how to be most effective; when he was learning in real time the consequences of doing something wrong.

Dick started training and/or working as Robin the moment he became a permanent member of the Wayne household. He was anywhere between roughly 8 and 16, depending on the retelling, but in every version he was very a child or teenager taking on that responsibility of other people's lives, learning in real time the consequences of doing something wrong. He was trying to navigate school and a social life while feeling that responsibility for other people's safety and having this huge secret he couldn't talk about. He was given these special skills from his birth family's legacy that his adoptive parent warned him to hide from people lest they guess his secret. He had this overdeveloped strength and fighting skills that meant he had to consciously hold back when he fought bullies in school.

But while that doesn't describe Bruce, it does describe someone else in Dick's life: Clark. He lost his parents at a very young age leading him to be raised in a completely different culture and world by his adoptive parents. They respected his birth family and their culture, but knew nothing about them. They were a working class family, who lived in a small town. He developed his powers when he was just a kid. They were a part of his family legacy that his adoptive parents encouraged him to hide to keep his secret. They created a sense of responsibility in him at a young age to use them to help and protect people. They made it so that he had to hold back when he fought bullies in school. He had to learn how to navigate school and a social life while feeling that responsibility, while having this huge secret, and learning the consequences of doing something wrong when he was trying to protect people.

Clark related to Dick as a kid/teenager in ways that Bruce never really could. Clark understood a lot of the struggles Dick was facing, the weight on his shoulders. That's one of the many reasons he was, typically, very friendly and supportive of Dick; why he treated him as a respected colleague ; why he was always happy to spend time with and chat with Dick, even when Bruce wasn't around. He became a second trusted mentor to Dick, someone who understood what it was like to dedicate your entire life to protecting people; to spending your entire life as someone potentially dangerous to normal people; to being removed from your family legacy and their culture and taking up that of your adoptive family instead.

That's why, when Dick finds himself in situations where his life is drastically changing, one of his first stops is always Metropolis. That's why, when his life drastically changes and he doesn't come to Metropolis, Clark comes to check in on him. And Clark doesn't always have good advice to share to help Dick find his way. But he has enough similar life experience that it makes him pretty much the only mentor figure in Dick's life that Dick can really talk to who best understands him and his unique struggles.

Back to Jon.

When Jon was forced to become Superman, he was worried about how to be Superman. How to take on that kind of responsibility when he was so young. Clark sent him to Dick not just because he had a unique perspective on what Superman needs to be as someone who's been a fan, a colleague, and a friend; not just because he could teach Jon how to fight and protect himself and others even without his powers; not just because he's an excellent teacher. But because no other non-super has as much experience navigating the complex life of being a high profile kid superhero.

And Dick taught him. He trained him, and he told him about his father and his legacy, about who Superman was to the people who cared about him and worked with him.

And well after Dick's gone back to being Nightwing, even when he's not a constant fixture in Damian's life anymore, even when he's off in Bludhaven, when Jon finds himself struggling to navigate a new situation as a superhero, one of the first things he does is seek out Dick. Dick doesn't always have good advice to give him, but he does have similar experiences that help him understand Jon and his unique struggles.

[ackerifle]

Yandere Levi finding out reader is pregnant by another man

a word with you!

yan. no regrets levi ackerman x fem prostitute. reader

+ CW. — harassment, coercion, delusional behavior, kidnapping, confessions of murder, threats of domestic violence/abuse, implied: slight past age-gap relationship, baby-trapping; darling’s pseudonym is galatea; not proof-read.

it was simply too good to be true, you had known it then, and you know it now. but wishful thinking and desperation will do terrible things to good people, no soul would willingly continue living in the underground should they find themselves with any better alternative. at a constant risk of disease and decay, mother nature’s evident distaste for her children dwelling beneath the surface, careless to the living that remained untouched by the sun. abandoned by its creators in favor of more ‘pressing matters,’ the people left relinquished in a forgotten city of ruins had fallen on hard times, people like yourself.

and thus, you had found yourself in quite the predicament. although nothing in your life had ever come particularly easy, and this once, just this once, you could manage all on your own. there was no shame in working in a brothel, not when the people around you were often worse off than yourself, and pride was a small price to pay for simply surviving. it was only once you had first bared witness to the frequent deaths of the other prostitutes had you ever come to the realization that the madam must have really favored you a lot— to clean you, to clothe you, to feed you, to care for you; to keep you. but the state of affairs in the underground have since changed from the time of your youth, you’ve changed. you wanted out, and you were not immune to making grave sacrifices for what you wanted.

you’ve encountered and met many clients in your time, men and women alike, and it is rare for new faces to draw your attention. but as of late, there has been one. a soldier from the surface, a military police member who seemed far too young to be venturing below the safety and security of the royal capital by himself, and far too naïve to be falling absolutely head over heels for some prostitute who only offers an hour and faux moans in return. it almost tugs at your heartstrings, almost. he isn’t as innocent as he looks, and you are reminded why terrible things happen to good people. he had held citizenship over your head since the moment he met you, through legal marriage, and one simple request: that you give him a child. after all, who was a man of his merit to invest such a scrupulous amount of time into a common whore without the reassurance she won’t leave him right away?

so you do, allowing him to touch and hold you in a way your other clients could only dream of. to whisper sweet nothings in your ear about your future together, because admittedly, you too are thinking the same thing. thinking about your future, but you find that there is nothing romantic about it. and perhaps the worst of it all, he hasn’t come back for you.

laying down on your tarnished bed of tattered sheets and thin blankets, you stare aimlessly at the darkened ceiling. without thought and without interest, it has been weeks, maybe months, and you think you’ve truly fallen ill, “dammit, i knew i shouldn't've let that prestigious prick back in here.” forever grateful and beholden to the brothel keeper, she continues to tend to your needs, even now.

“look at you. so sad, little girl.” the madam coos apathetically, but her actions say otherwise. a gentle hand checks your temperature, brushing aside any loose strands of hair with the swipe of her thumb. her frown only deepens when she just barely pushes your head back, met with complete compliance as your head tilts further into the pillow from even the slightest of movements. somehow, you’re still so tired and still so restless, “i’m sorry.”

she’s upset with you. she’s been upset with you ever since you’d been involved with that shady scumbag, but truthfully the madam is more upset with herself. and she wants to ask why you of all people are apologizing, but she doesn’t, “i’m sorry too.” there is more she yearns to say, her mouth is still open, as if to somehow keep you responsive in this one-sided conversation, but nothing comes out. and it’s too late when there are three loud and concise knocks banging on the door downstairs.

the madam is quick to pry a worried hand from your unresponsive body, storming towards the exit of the oppressive room, but not without taking a curious glance in your direction. her remorse does not last long, as she shuts the door with a shove, but is intentional in not forcing it too hard. and you are left alone. swallowing dryly, your eyes dart around the room, and you wonder just how intense that person must have been hounding at the door for both you and the madam to hear it from a story above. but that was no matter, it was already noisy in the brothel, the walls were thin because peace and quiet was no luxury anyone living there could afford; and who knows how many women you shared the small space with. and surprisingly, it benefitted you greatly to be sick, as the madam refused to work you; and you’d known girls who worked during pregnancy, it never did end well for them.

deafening commotion could be heard ringing throughout the brothel, to the point it had felt as if the walls were shaking and the building was caving in. you chalked it up to hysterical figments of your imagination, that the floorboards beneath your bed weren’t vibrating, and that the sound of a panicked woman and determined man arguing with one another weren’t getting closer, “sir! galatea isn’t well, she’s not seeing anyone right now!”

“i don’t give a shit, lady. i know name is still here, she hasn’t left this fucking whorehouse in a month.” it pains you that you recognize this voice, and it isn’t the one you want to hear.

brazenly, the door is reopened with much more ferocity and wrath than it had initially been closed with, and it startles you. despite anticipating a confrontation as the verbal fight had neared your room, it comes as a surprise when the door nearly breaks free from its hinges, revealing an all too familiar black haired man. he looks awful in the dour lighting, and he adorned a uniform that haunted your very soul. a lesser version of what the military police had dressed in, lacking the coat with their respective symbol, it was the odm gear that struck you odd. eyes averting, you had noticed madam — who was standing behind him, with a languid arm extended towards his figure as if to grab him — was somehow much worse for wear as she had a dramatic hand over her heart as she caught her breath.

you regret not locking the door, but then again, that has never stopped levi from doing what he wants. he calls to you only by your name, and your spine crawls. whipping his head around, the hand levi had placed over the hilt of one of the unsheathed blades draws it from the holder, and he wastes no time in threatening the madam. it only takes the sight of the sharpened edge looming dangerously close to her neck for you to yell at her to get out. she hesitates, and you know why, the madam has failed to protect you countless times from levi, but this will be the time it counts, and she knows it too. but the downright malicious glare levi sends her way has her halted in her steps, and she makes no effort to stop levi as he enters the room and places a deceivingly quiet palm flat on the door, all whilst maintaining eye contact with her, before he slams the door behind him.

you set your hand on the bed, forcing yourself to sit up as levi stomps his way over to you. and the closer he gets, the more uncharacteristically messy you realize his clothes are. the white shirt he so often wears is not clean, it’s rather dirty in all honesty, sullied with what appears to be sidestreet grime and dross filth. his boots are muddy, dragging in sludge and black water that hadn’t already been scraped off at the doorstep and staircase. but perhaps what was the most disturbing were the stains of blood on his gear, ranging from inconspicuous flecks to big streaks that were likely still wet. levi must’ve noticed your perturbed observation, because when he finally finds himself standing before you, he bends down and grabs your jaw in his hand, roughly squeezing your face, and leaning down until your noses are just barely touching.

“i leave you alone for a month, and you let some piece of shit from the mp’s knock you up?” it’s his eyes that are the scariest, more than his strength, and you crumble underneath his scrutinizing gaze. your retaliation is much more timid than you intend it to be, as if you were guilty and confessing your sins. sins of disloyalty to a man you aren’t even with in the first place, “you can’t expect me to want to stay here, i saw a way out, and i was going to take it.”

it doesn’t cross your mind to question how he knows all of this. you’ve simply accepted it as fact that you will never experience true privacy after meeting levi. in retrospect, it’s ludicrous that you’re even explaining yourself to him, but you are and it’s not helping your case, “and how did that work out for you?” levi spits venomously, violently shaking your head side to side in his grasp until your eyes were rattling in your skull. levi only lets go to prop his foot up onto the side of the bed.

instinctively, you lean away from his knee, which is almost parallel to your head, setting your hand on his calf in an attempt to direct his body away from yours. levi places the blade he had refused to release from his grip back into the metal box it belonged in, dropping his leg to the ground and hoisting you up by your shoulders, “groveling at the feet of those pigs, you’ve become real pathetic, haven’t you?” you want to defend yourself, to call him a hypocrite, to call him pathetic for harassing someone like you that was undeserving of his badgering.

“how did you even know he was a soldier?” deflecting the topic from yourself to your genuine concerns, you go limp in his arms as levi twirls you around the room until he’s satisfied with your placement. positioning you in front of the windows, leaning slightly on the stool as he pushed you backwards until you could feel the cold glass frame through your nightgown. levi slovenly flicks the sash lock, holding onto the lift and pushing the window up, “where do you think i got all of this from?” you didn’t need any clarification to know that levi was referring to his equipment.

your chest tightens, constricting your airway as you stop breathing altogether to attain perfect stillness. you only look at him with vacant eyes, and it becomes too much when he doesn’t elaborate any further, “what did you do, levi?” he sticks his head through the window, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the top rail, and peering down at the ‘city,’ below. it isn’t as if he needed to, there wasn’t anyone on the streets. when levi pulls himself back into the room, he slings an arm around your hips to bring you closer, “what do you think i did? the man’s dead, do i have to spell it out for you?”

the prickling sensation underneath your skin erupts in waves across your entire body. you were no stranger to the realities of what went on around you, the hushed rumors of what men and women who had the will to do what they wanted to others simply because they were capable, and not out of survival necessity, “you’re sick, what is wrong with you?”

“call it what you want, but he has nothing for you. you want to leave the underground? hmph, well don’t we all?” levi mocks contemptuously, tightening his hold when he feels you threaten to slip away in the slightest. he moves you around like a rag doll by the sides of your body, until you're in front of him. levi closes the little space that was left between you, until you’re forced to grab onto him for support, seeing that straining your wrists to secure yourself by the windowsill was becoming too painful, “we can go wherever you want, but you won’t be going anywhere without me.”

suddenly, levi veers down. his body collapsing onto yours until you’re nearly halfway out of the window, and he, looming over you, “oh my god, what is wrong with you?!” you repeat, blood rushing to your head as you try to prevent your upper half from being upside down and being taken by gravity completely. levi guides your arms around his neck, loosely as you refuse to acknowledge you’re even embracing him in the first place, but your fear of falling surpasses your personal grudges. and in one swift motion, levi thrusts the rest of your body out of the window, and he follow suits mere seconds afterward. and you scream, as loud as humanly possible.

levi’s body never leaves yours, and you’re uncertain as to whether it’s because you won’t allow it, or because he won’t allow it. either way, the detach hold you had on his neck fastened into a tight chokehold the moment you had felt yourself even remotely lean back any further. the landing is much smoother than you anticipated, levi doesn’t let you touch the ground before he does. and if you hadn’t shut your eyes, or buried your face into the crook of his neck, you may have gotten to witness the vertical maneuvering equipment in action; what used to be a dream for you, to leave with it, but you could kiss those fantasies goodbye now that they found themselves in the hands of levi. and he’s cautious, all too cautious with you.

you’re trembling like a leaf, and he thinks that if he lets go of you, you’ll fall to the ground, “don’t think you haven’t pissed me off, now. there’s a million things i ought to do to you after getting with that sorry excuse of a man.” levi rests a warning hand on your shoulder, loutishly hauling you towards him until you just about trip over your feet. he makes sure you’re aware of the desolate area that surrounds you two; and it becomes increasingly obvious that no one would come to intervene. if not by your shrieking, then never. levi tilts his head with an unimpressed frown, “you’re lucky you’re pregnant with our kid, because i won’t even be half as merciful once they’re born.”

[ashwhowrites]

I have a request, an angst one. It’s based by a song it’s called “the one that got away” by Katy Perry. YOU CAN MAKE IT FLUFFY OR ANGST FOR THE ENDING!!! Bcz I know people will ask for part two if you leave it angst.

Thank you so much! Love your writing btw, keep up the great work! Tag me once it’s published if you ever do it! @josephquinnlover0

Let's do it! I hope this is what you wanted. It does end happy !!

I am aware Eddie Munson would never sing this song, but he is today. I tweaked a little bit of the lyrics to fit his point of view. So the fic does not match exactly to the lyrics.

In modern times with social media and all that

Not proofread

~~~

Summer after high school when we first met

We make out in your Mustang to Radiohead

And on my 18th birthday, we got matching tattoos

Eddie wanted to leave Hawkins the second he graduated, he wanted a fresh start, a place where he could have a new reputation. He got a job at a bar, working to save up money so he can move out of the state. At that very bar, he met Y/N. A girl who soon became the girl of his dreams.

They were bartenders together, he'd play guitar on the slow nights, and she'd watch from the bar. She'd sing along as she helped customers.

Once their shift was done they'd race to her Mustang, climb in the backseat and make out for hours. But she also lay in his arms, playing with his fingertips as he ranted about wanting to leave Hawkins behind, but he couldn't imagine leaving her. Even with how much she worked, all her money went to keeping food on the table for her siblings. Her parents were barely around, they couldn't take care of themselves, let alone their children.

On his twenty-first birthday, they raced to the tattoo shop. Being together for over a year, and feeling more in love than ever. They wanted to be connected forever. So they got matching tattoos.

Now it was a painful reminder for Eddie every single day.

The perks of her parents never being around meant that once Eddie and Y/N got her siblings to bed, they could sneak out to the roof, a bottle of liquor in hand.

Used to steal your parents' liquor and climb to the roof

Talk about our future like we had a clue

Never planned that one day, I'd be losing you

She would lay in his arms, head against his shoulder. Together they would talk about their future, a future together. He talked about how one day he would propose at that shitty bar, promising to be hers forever in the same spot he met her. She talked about their wedding, her idea of her dress, and the color scheme.

Eddie never thought one day he'd never talk to her again.

In another life

I would be your girl

We keep all our promises

Be us against the world

When Eddie went to bed at night, he dreamed of another life. A life where they got their future together. She would be his girl and all the promises they made would stay true. It would be them against the world.

In another life

I would make you stay

So I don't have to say

You were the one that got away

The one that got away

In another life, he would have stayed, never taking that record deal. He would have turned back around when she begged him to stay.

He would be with her.

He wouldn't have to admit she was the one he let get away.

Eddie heard from Steve she got her tattoo removed, and it stung. Eddie traced the design, now even more bittersweet knowing the other half is now nonexistent.

Someone said you had your tattoo removed

Saw you downtown singing the blues

Its time to face the music

I'm no longer your muse

He saw a video of her singing at the bar. She used to sing in the kitchen as they danced. They wrote so many songs together, some songs he still sings to this day, to a crowd that doesn't know who the muse was. But he knew.

Listening to her sing brought back the memories, the songs she wrote about being in love with him. Now her songs don't relate to him at all, time to face it, he is no longer her muse.

Eddie made it big. He achieved his dream. He left Hawkins and moved out to Hollywood. Signed a record deal and is now drowned in money. But yet, none of that money could give him the chance to turn back time. He could buy anything in the world, but nothing would replace her, and he hated that he learned that too late.

All this money can't buy me a time machine, no

Can't replace you with a million rings, no

I should've told you what you meant to me, whoa

'Cause now I pay the price

He should have told her she meant more to him than any dream he had before her. He hated that it took him leaving her to realize she was his dream.

Now he has to pay the price.

Now Eddie returned to Hawkins, his tail between his legs as he arrived at the very bar. His guitar case was in his hand as he walked through the doors. His eyes caught the big sign that stated his name in bold letters.

In another life, I would make you stay

So I don't have to say you were the one that got away

The one that got away

"Eddie Munson returns, Live tonight at 8"

People were running up to him, asking for autographs, and expressing their excitement for his show. But his eyes stayed on the bar, looking to see if she would still be working there.

When he made it to the stage, the spotlight blinded him but he was able to see her through it. She hasn't changed in the two years he has been gone. Her hair was longer than before, but everything was the same. She looked just as beautiful as the day he left.

And she was looking back right at him. That same look of adoration and love in her eyes. A smile proud smile on her face as she clapped along with the crowd. He noticed her siblings sitting in the corner booth, huge smiles as they took him in.

He took a deep breath and strummed his guitar

"This is called, the one that got away"

~~~

Once Eddie finished his set, he walked to the bar. A nervous smile on his face as he walked up to her.

"Hey there rockstar," She smiled, walking around the bar to give him a hug. He could feel his body relax into her, wrapping his arms around her and keeping her close. Inhaling her scent as he kissed her head.

"Hi gorgeous, how are you?" He asked, pulling away to look at her closer. She smiled and stepped back, his body already missing her touch.

"I'm doing alright. The same old thing. Mom and Dad finally gave up, I saved up enough money to get my own apartment, and took the kids with me." She explained

"I'm glad you were able to move out. You deserved that. I see the little ones are not so little anymore." Eddie smiled, a little sad he missed out on watching them grow up. He spent every day with them for two years straight.

"Thanks. I see you are doing amazing! All over social media, magazines, and tv. I'm proud of you, Eddie." And he could tell she meant every word. He left her behind and yet here she was, supporting him every step of the way.

"Thank you, that means a lot. Things might look amazing but I've been struggling," Eddie admitted. He missed her and he wanted her back.

"Oh, do you need to talk? I'm about to go on break" She offered

~~~

Eddie paced behind the bar, cracking his knuckles as he waited for her.

"What's going on?" She asked politely

"I didn't come here to do the gig. I'm here for you. I miss you. Leaving you was the biggest mistake I have ever made." Eddie admitted. Reaching forward to cup her jaw.

She let herself melt into it

"I never blamed you, Eddie. Your dream was at your fingertips. I never should have asked you to stay, that wasn't fair. I mean I had no real life, I worked and took care of my siblings. Shit, I still do. Why would you want to stay? There was nothing here for you." She said, turning her head to kiss his palm.

"You're wrong. I thought it was my dream but I feel like I've been in a nightmare since I left. I had to leave to find out that you were my dream all along and you still are. I had a reason to stay, and she was across from me. And now she's the reason why I'm back. I still love you and I never tried to move on. I promised my heart was beating for you, and that's a promise I didn't break." Eddie admitted. Stepping closer, leaning his face closer to hers.

Her eyes were welling up with water.

"I still love you too. I never tried to move on either. I missed you every day and the idea of being someone else's just put salt in the wound. I missed you." She confessed, watching as he looked into her eyes, leaning down to ghost his lips over hers.

His eyes asked, and she replied by leaning up. Smashing her lips onto his. He moaned the second he tasted her again, wrapping his arms around her waist. His stomach did flips as she wrapped her arms around his neck, hands digging themselves into his hair.

"Thank you for coming back," she whispered against his lips as she pulled back. Small pecks to his lips between each word.

"I also came here to do something," Eddie admitted. A smirk on his face as he stepped back.

She looked at him confused, watching as he got down on his knee

"Munson..." she trailed off

"I came here to do something we always dreamed about," He started, she gasped as he went into his pocket, taking out a small ring. "I left once, and I've regretted it since. You are my dream, my life, and my future. I promised you I'd ask you to marry me at the bar we met, promise to be yours forever, so what do you say? Marry me?" Eddie asked, a smile on his face as she cried into her hands.

"Yes! Oh my gosh, Yes." She cried out, placing her left hand in front of him, allowing him to slip the ring on her finger. She admired the ring, it was gorgeous.

He got off his knee, standing straight as he cupped her face and leaned in, placing his lips on hers.

"Us against the world, right?" He whispered

"Forever" She whispered back, pecking his lips.

"I don't care if we stay in this shitty town, or move anywhere you want. As long as I have you, I'm happy to be anywhere." Eddie said

"Me too."

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @slightlyvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergent @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @josephquinnlover0

[dullgecko]

Goblins dont have traditional gender/pronouns, or care about any difference between sexes, even when raised in places where that is a thing they're kind of just like 'the people around you will decide for you, just go with it'. The closest to the concept of gender they have is sometimes a goblin will really like on object or concept or something and just go 'yeah, im this thing'.

So Riz is kind of used to it, but the first time they visit a goblin village the goblins keep trying to remind the other bad kids of their names because 'you keep calling me He or Him, i do not know those people, my name isn't hard to pronounce, please :('

Biological sex is just sortof an afterthought to most goblins, and only really thought of in the sense that one of the two can carry children and the other sires them (and if you want to swap or be neither or both at once goblins have spells to change you to whatever you want just go ask one of the elders and they'll sort you out). You wouldnt even know anothers sex unless you asked because there isnt much difference (females dont have breasts unless activily child rearing to make it more obvious so Sklonda wears a padded bra in Elmsville to make it easier for people to clock she's female).

Most matchmaking for breeding purposes is organised by the elders as well (because they're the ones aware of what each persons biology is, especially if some are swapping backwards and forwards) and its considered a little gauche to bring up in conversation.

Its part of the reason why, in terms of monster eradication, it was always reccomended that you wipe out the entire horde if you come across one. Just two goblins, no matter their gender, can repopulate and you'll end up with an 'infestation' again.

The whole 'others with choose for you' things is partially why Riz goes for the whole suit-and-tie getup. His dad told him when he younger that he would get catagorised as male and Solesians seem to be obsessed with pronouns. Riz decided at that point that if he's a 'male' he needs to dress the part and did research to find out what the most 'male' clothing was. Hilariously, Fabian is being the most polite in terms of goblin pronouns unintentionally by defaulting to 'The Ball'. Riz called himself 'The Ball' once so yeah Fabian is correct, that is his pronoun good job buddy, you're such a good friend you're doing so well.

It does mean that most goblins when speaking common do badly with pronouns, always refering to themselves or other people by name, race or general description (The Orc, The Tall One, The Pretty Elf) or defaulting to they/them unless they are told specifically 'this is what im referred to as'.

[namjoon-koya]

Heyyy! I love your writing btw , it’s so cool <3 may i ask a hawks and aizawa headcanons about a quirkless s/o but is someone who’s working hard to make a name for themselves despite its difficulty,, (i was thinking of a more detective-like s/o but you can do another occupation if you want!)

a/n: LETS GO WITH DETECTIVE S/O

Hawks and Aizawa having a detective s/o.

Hawks:

He’s a proud boyfriend, supports you along the way and encourages you to keep going if you start falling behind and thinking on quitting. He can’t understand what you’re going through about being quirkless, but he will be your support. Usually whenever he’s on patrol and he sees you and other detectives on a crime scene he’ll watch from afar, you’ve told him that some detectives have deemed you “fragile” since you’re quirkless, but that doesn’t stop you from going head on into a crime scene.

Calls you his little detective, “how’s my little detective doing? Catch any criminals yet? “Hey detective I’ll be late today, don’t stay up too late.” Even at some point calling you Sherlock Holmes when you decoded a message “hey look at my little detective! Becoming Sherlock Holmes hm?” He’s proud of you though, you obviously have a talent of being able to decode things easily he wonders if you’d be able to decode things he found at the LOV..

He has to remind you to take breaks though, he applauds you for working hard; but please make sure to take breaks. Even at some points he has to drag you away from your desk to come cuddle with him, he has to be the way to lay down on your chest so you don’t go back to studying/working. “Keigo! I need to-“ “what you need detective is to cuddle with me, please?” He says fluttering his eyes at you. Damn it

Aizawa:

Supportive as fuck, he knows people without quirks are seen lower or fragile or needed to be protected. You proved that wrong though and he loves seeing how passionate you are about being a detective and making a name for yourself, you held your head high and fuck does it remind him why he fell in love with you. Often during his break he’ll send you a text on how you’re doing, sometimes you’ll be able to reply and sometimes not; but he understands your busy at the station.

REMINDS YOU TO SLEEP, he’s happy that he can see you working hard, but please for him take a break. He gets worried when he sees you still up at 3am working on a paper, or studying a picture trying to get a clue or a reference from your notes. Just like Hawks he’ll pick you up around your waist and drag you to bed, “Aizawa! What are you doing I was studying..” he pulls you against his chest mumbling into your hair “cuddle with me before I have to deal with children.” You laugh at his statement.

If you graduate from detective to chief Inspector he will literally be there for it, he’ll ask another u.a teacher to cover his class while he goes to your ceremony. If you start crying HE MIGHT start crying too, he knows you worked hard to get where you are now.