#pov me when this hyperfixation started

[cloudedmydude]

sol grabguy

[tea-cat-arts]

Since we're getting closer to the release of the next Madoka Magica movie, I'd like to gently remind you guys that Rebellion doesn't have a single reliable narrator, and you really can't take anything the girls say as fact.

Madoka, Mami, and Kyoko have all had their memories tampered with by Homura and don't have the full story

Sayaka and Nagisa are both mentally fully there, but they're biased as they benefit from Madoka's system

Homura is being prodded by Kyubey, is in the middle of a mental breakdown, is missing key information, and is locked inside her own head where she is subconsciously filtering out and ejecting things that don't alight with the reality she wants there

This isn't to say that any of these girls are bad people or being intentionally manipulative. Just please keep in mind that all these characters' perspectives are skewed, and you really can't take everything they say at face value.

[thedeadthree]

yk what for funsies i want to make the w*itcher clowns with the b*g3 character creator

[kamaluhkhan]

THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window. 

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer. 

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.” 

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous. 

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?” 

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in. 

“what? n-no!” 

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you. 

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

 so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp. 

it just didn't seem fair. 

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods. 

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest. 

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest. 

every  demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they  didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself. 

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?” 

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching. 

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.” 

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.” 

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze. 

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too. 

“she deserved more.” 

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there. 

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do. 

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise. 

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.” 

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm. 

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.  

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day. 

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.” 

luke bristled at your nickname for him. 

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go. 

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.  

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in. 

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly. 

 the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again. 

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down. 

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse. 

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled. 

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” 

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.  

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning. 

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone? 

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one. 

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward." 

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you. 

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp. 

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.  

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready. 

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him. 

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through. 

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him. 

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood. 

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased. 

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess. 

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson. 

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?” 

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken. 

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.” 

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer. 

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.  

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too. 

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time. 

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more. 

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips. 

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die. 

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy. 

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away. 

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze. 

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse. 

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse. 

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.” 

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality. 

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie. 

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat. 

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him. 

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for. 

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did. 

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it. 

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair. 

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates. 

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes. 

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.” 

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes. 

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that. 

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you. 

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?” 

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush. 

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….” 

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right. 

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for. 

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached. 

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?” 

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?” 

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him. 

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.” 

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said. 

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow. 

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air. 

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch. 

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion. 

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp. 

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him. 

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment. 

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door. 

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire. 

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.  

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god. 

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy. 

everything was falling into place. 

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.  

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you. 

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles. 

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist. 

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him. 

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey. 

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy. 

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?” 

 “they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true. 

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him. 

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it. 

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down. 

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet. 

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog. 

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more. 

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously. 

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated. 

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind. 

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated. 

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well. 

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.” 

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe! 

would you hate him, if you knew? 

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage. 

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?” 

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns. 

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.” 

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment. 

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips. 

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe. 

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his. 

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath. 

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time. 

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted. 

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor. 

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock. 

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.” 

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being. 

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.” 

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.  

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone.  we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance. 

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor. 

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape. 

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice. 

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head. 

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life. 

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

[bc-jpeg]

Thoughts on Grumbo?

I would kill for them. I think they might be the biggest hyperfixation ship in my life, I don't remember this level of insanity with any other fandom before.

I guess it’s not that visible from me, because I prefer to keep my socials blogs kinda clean from rebloging stuff*, AND I don’t draw them so often because I have so much projects on me and no time, it’s kinda sad.

honestly, if I had started, there would have been a huge lecture about grumbo, they have had so much going on for several years, and all the details fit so perfectly into an incredibly interesting dynamic that includes not only the interaction between the two of them, but also the essence of each of them, some character traits, daily habits, traumas and etc.

I'm going to say something that really upsets me. the problem of grumbo's non-popularity is very much based on the fact that their ship does not lie on the surface. it’s not as accessible as other popular ships in this fandom, and this is extremely painful, considering what their history really is.

grumbo are built on much bigger things than just silly interactions between characters that you might notice in episodes, even bigger than scripted lore moments on hermitcraft and life series. everything goes from their very first collabs to this day for several years already, and some micro fragments/clips from their videos are simply NOTHING compared to the context of the whole story. and just a disclaimer: I'm talking about the characters here, not about real people, the whole story only falls on their characters.

I often see that people may not understand grumbo’s ship dynamic at all simply because they watch only one pov (mostly grian). in this case, I beg you to watch both povs, you miss a lot if you watch only one person. in general, you can also watch third-party people with them! last life grumbo are also built on martyn's pov, for example.

I am so happy that their story started spinning again at the end of the hc s9 due to mumbo’s return, now in hc s10 + WHATEVER IS GOING ON in life series (especially in life series, because mumbo has NEVER had such possessive moments about grian before).

“forget the cactus ring, the desert i'm stuck in is sahara”

* I often reblog things from @mwapollo because he can put everything into right words MUCH better than me, especially when we discussing it all on a daily basis together, so we literally have the same vision about grumbo. I just really want all of his thoughts to be seen in this fandom. ykw I would turn it into shout-out, GO TO @mwapollo’s blog I DARE you. if you’re a grumbo fan, his blog is my first recommendation to go to.

[ameliathornromance]

Monster author tag

I was tagged by @regency-monster-love—thank you! The idea is to promote other monster authors and ourselves!

Link 10 of your stories and explain why you choose those particular ones.

Picking ten of my favourites isn't an easy task. I love all my stories... but I guess even parents have their favourite kids huh? Anyway, here are my favourites that I've written (in no particular order.)

Orc Reacts to you bringing back a baby - I really like this one. For a while, all I could think about was how cute it would be to have this massive Orc, all muscle and frowns holding a tiny human baby. Very much 'excuse me he asked for no pickles' energy.

You give your Orc Bf flowers - I don't like to get political when I write but, I'm always thinking about how I can normalise certain things. And I wanted to normalise giving big beefy Orcs flowers.

Monsters with Pets - I'd be lying if I said this wasn't inspired by Jon Snow and his dire wolf, Ghost from Game of Thrones. Especially for my Orc segment of this post. It'd been on my mind for a little while about what kind of pets different Monsters would have and I had a lot of fun writing it. I wanted to add a Dragon segment too, but I couldn't think of what kind of pet a Dragon would keep.

Orc Boyfriend is sad you had to go away for a little while - I think this was my first Orc POV post? I wanted to take a break from writing Y/N for a while and focus on the Orc in this post and how he would behave when you were gone. I really like how this one ended and also the relationship between the Orc and his friends.

Stretch Marks - I've chosen this post because it's really personal to me. I have really sevre stretch marks on my thighs and hips. When my parents saw them they thought I'd had an injury or something lol. Because I have sensory issues, I'm always wearing shorts so the marks are always on show. I just wanted to write some comfort if anyone else had the same insecurity that I did :)

The Other Woman - This was initially meant to be another forbidden love post... but somewhere along the line it became angsty. I had a lot of fun writing this story and the second part of this story. I normally try to avoid writing Fae because I feel like Fae are all over media atm, (nothing wrong if you write or enjoy it, just not my thing :)) but I'm glad I chose to write a Fae character instead. Good writing exercise in case I ever develop a hyperfixation... you'd be surprised how much this happens to me.

Rain, Rain, Rain - An underrated favourite of mine. I was experimenting with my Orcs having accents and I also love the way that this story ended. This was right back when I started my blog, so the writing may not be the best, but I'm still proud of it.

Orc x Gardener!Reader - In my head, I had a cottagecore style reader living in a cottage, with a vegetable garden in the long flowy dresses and the like. I didn't really know how to put that into writing, so I ended up with a gardener reader and a protective Orc who had a huge crush on her.

Travelling Orc Headcanons - I love this one because it's short and easy to read. For me, I've always preferred reading headcanon stories because I can't read paragraphs and my eyes skip over sentences, which is why I enjoyed writing this so much. I also love how the story progressed.

A Whole New World - I think this was my first post that hit over 1000 notes? Again, I like this one because it has headcanons, but also more in depth scenes that really enrich the story. Like no. 7 on this list, it's one of my earlier works, so the writing might not be great, but I'm still really proud of it!

I'd tag people but my blog is sfw :( that being said, any monster romance author who would like to join in on this tag is welcome to!

[dreamingofaizawa]

Violent Tendencies - Price

Sheriff! John Price x AFAB! Fem! Reader

~Small Town AU~ (John's POV)

Warnings: Love at first fight?, descriptions of blood and injuries, allusions to physical abuse (past), John finds you hot in the strangest ways (does he have a thing for violence? idk, maybe it's just you), two suggestive lines

Word Count: 3.6k

Author's Note: Fuck me sideways. That's all I've got, I'm hyperfixating on this stupid AU

Series Masterlist

Part One Here - Part Five Here

ENJOY!

***

“Oh come on, live a little! It won’t hurt ya to get in bed with a bonnie lass.” Johnny’s drunk. Too damn drunk, if you asked John Price. It’s probably the fifth time the scot’s brought up Price’s dating life, or complete lack thereof. He’s already dragged three poor random girls from around the little bar to try to get him to take one home. He’s getting real sick of his antics.

“Johnny, if you don’t fuck right off, I’m firing you. No more Deputy MacTavish.” He only smiles, drunk and leaning over in the booth the five of them are tucked into. 

“Can you blame him, John? We can’t expect you to stay single forever. Get yourself a girlfriend, at least.” Laswell’s not nearly as drunk as she should be. If she weren’t coherent he wouldn’t have to hear this shit from her of all people.

“I’ve got a woman. Now drop it.” It feels like the whole goddamned bar goes quiet at that. 

“Fuckin’ spill, Price, or I’m starting a bar fight in here and it won’t fuckin’ end pretty.” Now Simon being invested in the whole thing was something he didn’t expect at all. Kyle’s watching, silently, from his corner. He’s also probably drunk. 

“Fine. But we don’t talk about it until you’re all sobered up tomorrow. I don’t want to have to explain it all over again when you don’t remember shit.” That is what’s agreed upon. And so the very next morning, he’s cornered by his three deputies and Kate Laswell. Kyle, for one, is very amused at the whole predicament.

“I think it’s poetic. Romantic, even. Fell in love with a girl in juvie of all places, after getting into a brawl with her, and he’s so fuckin’ whipped for her he can’t imagine ever loving another woman.” 

“Seven years ago? That’s an awful long time to be waitin’, Price. You sure the lass is still gonna be single by the time you find her?” Johnny’s words sent a spike of rage and fear through his heart. What if you never loved him like he loved you? What if you were just tolerating him? What if you found someone already? He tries not to spiral, tries to keep himself cool. It’s none of his business, no matter how far gone he is.

“So you lied, then? You don’t really have a woman. She ain’t yours yet.” Simon’s right. But he hangs onto the yet. He’ll find you, and he’s sure that when he does he’ll try his damndest to make you his. “You gonna fight her again?” 

“No. Absolutely fuckin’ not.” He’d made up his mind after that first fight. It’s the only fight you’ll ever have. After he’d had time to cool down in the infirmary, even if he found you covered in blood insanely attractive, he saw too much of his father in the mirror. You looked happy, getting into a fight like that, but he can’t get the image of his mother begging for a respite out of his head. He decided then that he’d never lay another hand on you for as long as he lives, not unless it was a spar to help you hone your skills. Even then, he’d never hurt you.

He tells them stories when they ask. He tells them about the way his Tempest was always ready for a fight. He regales them with the way you pummeled a guy that tried to corner you in the bathroom to try and get his dick wet. He recalls the time you’d smashed a guy’s skull against the nearest wall when he’d shoved a girl to the ground for something or other. It’s all vivid in his memory, when he recalls the way you bled all over the punching bag. Your knuckles are scarred to hell and back, you never gave them any real time to heal once you got that sling off. He distinctly remembers, however, that you wrapped them up once he’d told you to. Still hit the bag, but you wore wraps, however flimsy they were. 

It’s his favorite thing to do, really, remember all the shit you’d done, the squabbles you’d finished. The two of you had a wicked reputation in that little hall, and only a month after your collar healed you were avoided like the plague. Back then, watching the way people started to give you a wide berth, he wondered if that’s what it looked like for him when he got in.

“Let me guess, you were her only friend.” Kyle deadpans, like he knows what comes next, muttering something about a classic romcom trope.

“Almost. Her roomie liked her, after she pummeled the girl that tried to strangle her for something.” He thinks you looked the best when you were beating someone to a pulp. How you looked hitting the bag was a close second. Thinking about you like this makes his heart ache, but he falls so much farther in love. The image of you is imprinted so profoundly in his mind he’d recognize you instantly. 

And he does. 

“It’s wonderful to have you here, John. You and your deputies are gonna do a whole lot of good for this town. Everyone, welcome your new sheriff.” The man has just finished his retirement speech in front of the town hall, welcoming Price to the little podium at the front. He’s got an entire speech prepared about wanting to help keep the place in order, how he’s happy to be welcomed even though he didn’t grow up here, how he’s ready for the change of pace from the big city he’s used to. 

It all catches in his throat when he sweeps his gaze over the crowd and spots you. Your eyes lock, and he knows you recognize him, the way you don’t even blink, wide-eyed and barely breathing. The former sheriff’s hand is on his shoulder, and it snaps him out of his daze. You don’t move, don’t leave, just sit with the rest of the town and watch. His skin feels like it’s on fire, burning with the urge to run over to you and kiss you until you both pass out. He barrels through the rest of his speech. When it’s all done and dusted, and he goes to look for you, you’re gone. Back in the station, Kyle notices something’s off.

“Your leg hasn’t stopped bouncing since we got back an hour ago.” He stops the limb, briefly flicking his eyes over to Kyle before looking pointedly away. “Don’t ignore me, damnit. What’s got you wound up?” The other two perk up from their spots around the little station. The eyes on him make his skin itch. 

“She’s here.” It got so damn quiet a pin could be heard hitting the tiled floor.

“No fuckin’ way. Tempest? Your Tempest?” He nods, and the questions are flying. How does he know? When did he find out? What’s her name? Where is she right now? He only knows the answer to one of those questions, and he refuses to tell them anything on principle. He decides you must have run off for a reason. If you don’t want to see him that bad, if all you’re going to do is avoid him, then he’ll let you. That being the case, the last thing you needed were his three deputies snooping around your business.

You’re like a little spirit, running around barely in his sight for two long years. He’s seen you briefly, walking to or from the diner he frequents in one of the uniforms, but he’s never seen you there. You must work all the hours he isn’t there. There’s a glimpse of you every other week in the grocer, or at the market, or in the one hardware shop in town. He never approaches you. Deep down, he’s afraid of the rejection. It’s been nearly ten years since you shared a space in the juvenile hall to the north. There’s every possibility that you’ve grown to hate the time you spent there, and grown to hate him.

But then he spots you, being verbally assaulted by the town’s resident asshole who coincidentally also happens to be your boss, and he can’t find it in himself to care if you hate him or not. You’re not gonna just take that shit, not with him around, not when the scene looks eerily similar to one he’d witnessed in his own home.

In a way, he owes Graves. It’s the first time he’d spoken to you in a decade, and he’s falling in love with you all over again. You’re different, sure, but it’s not bad. He’s different too. If you both remained the same after ten years, it’d be some kind of weird twisted miracle.

The nights he spends in your diner have his blood warming. He feels a little guilty about the way he can’t take his eyes off of you, even when you’re not looking at him. He feels a little like a creep. But he just can’t help himself, observing you as you work diligently for the little diner. When you reach up onto a high shelf he locks onto the sliver of skin where your shirt rides up, the softness of your waist he desperately wants to feel beneath his fingertips. The scarring on your knuckles are faded, and the skin looks like it hasn’t seen a fight in years. You’re softer overall, too, your face rounder and body plumper, the muscle mass you used to tow around gone. He scolds himself for eyeing your thighs, the way they swell when you crouch or sit or kneel, mentally slaps himself for wanting to live between them. He still doesn’t know if you’re just tolerating his presence.

The deputies don’t believe him, that you’re his Tempest. Simon says you’re too reserved to be her, too shy and quiet and soft. Johnny thinks you’re a pretty little lass who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Kyle mentions how you’re not aggressive enough to be John’s Tempest, nothing agitates you at all, even the one drunk asshole that finds his way to the diner one night while he’s there. The guy nearly trashes the diner, toppling over stools and knocking the napkin dispensers and salt shakers to the ground. You aren’t even fazed, just wait for Kyle to kick him out and get to cleaning it all up. 

So you’re really different. So what? He knows you’ve got some of that spark still, he’d seen it in your eyes. Besides, he likes you now, too. You’re softer, sweeter, than he’s used to. You’re still snarky, still sharp-tongued, it’s just that your rough edges have been smoothed by time.

When he gets that panicked phone call from you, he swears he’d never felt dread the way he did when you were whimpering on the other end of the call. He sped like the devil to get to you. You being shaken more than anything else was such an immense relief he felt his heart shrink and swell with each beat. Taking you home and crawling into bed with you felt like he’d finally found the piece of his heart that’d gone missing since you left him behind. 

“You look smitten. Have a good night?” Kyle knows. It’s written all over his smug face. All he can do is roll his eyes.

“For the record, I had a wonderful fuckin’ night. I got my woman, and I got to prove you lot wrong in one fell swoop. And Graves got a beating.” The man himself scoffs from his spot on the cell bed. John turns, walking right up to the bars.

“I could always bring her back, you know. Let her break your arm more, let her show you just how easy it’d be to dislocate that shoulder of yours.” He can see the way the man swallows, but he doesn’t move or respond otherwise. 

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He turns to his deputies. “Now I want a formal fuckin’ apology for doubting me.” Simon rolls his eyes from behind that bandana. Johnny groans out a protest.

“Can’t blame us, can you? Not a damn soul would know the beast she is just being around her for a little. She’s like a little sleeper agent.” 

“She’s nothing special.” Graves spits from his bed. It’s a wonder he has the balls to speak about you like that, or at all. John’s just about fed up, but Simon beats him to it.

“Says the guy with a broken arm and a concussion. You better watch your back, she’ll kill you if given the chance.” He laughs, sour and unamused.

“Yeah right. I was drunk, and she caught me off my guard. She couldn’t do it again.” Suddenly John knows all too well that Graves did not grow up in this town. Because the folks who did know that you were the most violent creature in a fifty-mile radius, and would pummel anyone half to death. He probably doesn’t even know about your stint in juvie, let alone your history for anger management. Then, John does laugh, at the notion that Graves got his ass handed to him on a silver platter by the girl he thought was some pushover subordinate.

“That woman will chew you up and shit you out dead. You’re lucky I hadn’t found her again earlier. You may have been dead long before you got the chance to be fired.” Words aren’t enough to convince him, but it doesn’t matter. If he’s stupid enough to come after you again, he’ll find out soon enough. He scoffs again, shifting to sit on the edge of the cell bed.

“Right. You got into this town two years ago. She’s been working under me for five. The fuck do you know?” It’s tempting to spill the history you share, but your secrets are yours.

“What does he know?” Graves jumps in his spot at the sound of your voice. John’s entire body heats, his eyes drifting over to where you’re leaning up against the wall. He didn’t even hear the door open. When he reaches for you, you drift toward him like a magnet, tucking yourself into his side while he presses a kiss to your temple. Suddenly he’s not so mad anymore, his blood settling from a rolling boil to a simmer. 

“How long have you been there, Tempest?” He watches you shrug, feels his heart speed in his chest when you lay your head against his shoulder.

“Long enough. Simon let me in and held the bell so it didn’t sound.” He glares daggers at the man, who only shrugs. “I wanted to come see you. Brought you boys some lunch.” He looks to the desk where you’ve put a large insulated bag. Wonderful fuckin’ woman you are. Your attention flits back to Graves, who’d stood up and backed into the corner but still tried to look intimidating. There’s this look on his face, eyes just a little too wide to be comfortable, chest moving with tiny, quick breaths. Still as a statue, like a deer in headlights. He knows that look. He’s seen it in the other juvie residents who were stupid enough to get on your bad side. He’s afraid of you, he’s seen the bloodlust in your eyes, seen the way you love to make someone bleed.

“Phil.”

“The fuck do you want?” There’s an urge bubbling inside him to rip the cell door open and pummel the man for talking to his woman that way. 

“I didn’t come for you. Didn’t think you’d still be here.” His shoulders visibly relax, but only a little. He nearly laughs at the guy. He’s pitiful really. You push off of John, slipping away toward the cell. He fights the urge to yank you back, away from the man that wanted to hurt you and still probably does. 

“But, since you’re here, I may as well give my piece.” Your tone goes sharp, dark with promises he knows you can and will keep. “If you ever come after me again, I’ll make you disappear.” Graves bristles from his corner. John’s hard in his jeans.

“Is that a threat?” 

“What the fuck do you think, Phillip? I’m intimately familiar with an assault charge, and attempted murder isn’t far off. All I’m asking is that you leave me the fuck alone, and you won’t ever have to find out what John knows and you don’t.” When you step back to John, Graves lunges for the bars where you stood.

“That’s bullshit. Five years I’ve been screaming at you and what did you do? You took it and went on with your day. I don’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth, lying bitch.” Suddenly, the urge is overwhelming. His heart is erratic in his chest, and when he lunges toward Graves it’s you that stops him in his tracks, a hand on his chest while you stand directly in his warpath. 

“It’s not worth it, John. He doesn’t know. It’s fine.” He huffs like a bull, but relents. Still, he’s pissed. You turn back to the cell. “Go get a damn life, Phil. Quit blaming your problems on everyone else and get your shit together.” The guy turns a concerning shade of red, but stays silent. He’s probably not all that used to having someone bite back. You wrap your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him with stars in your eyes. You’re so fuckin’ pretty it hurts. He wraps his own arms around you, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. He’s so far gone. 

“Pretty woman. I ever tell you how hot you look when you’re threatening someone?” When you giggle it’s like his soul leaves his body. The prettiest sound he’ll ever hear, he’s sure of it.

“No. That’s cause I don’t usually give them a warning. Used to just come out swinging, remember?” Oh yeah, he remembers. He remembers how often he’d jack off in the juvie showers to the memory of whatever violence you’d committed that day, watching you swing and sweat and grin like a maniac. 

“Ugh. You two were made for each other, that’s for damn sure.” He watches your grin stretch across your face when Kyle says it, pretending to wretch over his shoulder. Your eyes flit over to him, and you look so much like a mom trying to cheer up her child.

“You’ll find someone, Deputy Garrick. Give it time.” His eyes roll.

“Just go get a room, would you?” You laugh, and he laughs, and John couldn’t be happier than he is at this very moment. You lean up and kiss him, sweet and soft and far too quick for his liking.

“I’ll leave you to it, then. Have fun dealing with that one.” You jerk your head toward Graves, who’s still fuming. “Try not to kill him.”

“No promises, Tempest.” He releases you, then you’re off with another peck on his cheek. Simon chuckles from his corner once you’re out the door. John deflates, annoyance prickling his skin.

“The fuck is so funny, Riley?” 

“She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.” Hell yeah you do. He’s not ashamed of it, hell he’s proud.

“You got a problem with it?” Simon throws his hands up in surrender.

“Not a one. It’s just a wonder you ever let her go without even asking where she’d be going. Couldn’t have been me.” He groans and rolls his eyes. This conversation? Again?

“Fuckin’ can it. I’m not listening to another lecture about ‘the one that got away’. She didn't get away.” 

“Aye but she almost did!” Johnny pipes up from where he’s sitting on the edge of the desk, already digging into one of the sandwiches you’d made for them.

“But she didn’t.” He huffs, getting fed up with the conversation they’ve already had too many times. Kyle hums thoughtfully.

“Ten years. An awful long time to be away from someone you fell so hard for.” Yeah, it was. Hurt like the devil, too.

“The fuck? I thought you didn’t grow up here?” When Graves makes his presence known again, it sends a bolt of rage through his blood. All four of them turn to see the man suddenly invested in the conversation, arms through the bars and temple leaned up against them. 

“I didn’t.” His face scrunches up in confusion.

“Then how the hell did you know her ten years ago?” He glances over at his deputies, and they all seem to share the same sentimental shrug.

“We spent time in the same juvenile detention hall.” He scoffs from the bars.

“Juvie ten years ago? Right. And you liked her cause what, she was a docile little plaything? Let you do whatever you wanted?” He barks out a laugh at the thought. You? Docile? Fat fuckin’ chance. He reaches up and feels the bridge of his nose, the thing’s still a little crooked thanks to you.

“Nah, that girl broke my fuckin’ nose the first day she was in cause she wanted my punching bag. That’s all you’re gettin outta me. You can find out for yourself just how volatile she is if you wanna know that bad.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“That’s your damn problem. I’m not gonna waste my time convincing you.” He doesn’t give him any more of his attention, pulling one of those sandwiches out of the bag you’d hauled over. There’s enough food to feed the four of them and then some.

He’s going over to yours tonight, just to give you a heartfelt thank you between your legs.

[hearts4pearlescentmoon]

Allow me to explain

I’ve been thinking

[bookie-bookdust]

HELLO THERE:

You can call me Bookie, Bookdust, a simp - I don't care. I am happy to brain rot about many things, but the little demon in my head makes me hyperfixate over Hogwarts Legacy, metalcore/alt/emo music, and writing. Feel free to reach out to me and say hi! My inbox is open.

Ravenclaw - INFJ - Gemini sun, Cancer moon, Libra rising - Tired

I'm an adult and share NSFW content. That being said, I write a variety of teen to explicit-rated stories/posts. You should always assume my characters are 18+ unless stated otherwise. I'm also on tiktok at bookdust_

FAN FICTION (the literature🧐):

Where you can read my deranged writing:

ao3 - I am most active here. This is also where I post all of my chapter fics and one shots.

Wattpad - I'll post all chapter fics and some of my one shots here. I hate WP, and I don't have the patience for it.

That's it lol. If you find my garbage anywhere else, let me know because then I'd have to go break some legs.

✨Chapter Fics:

Sebastian Sallow Fucking Sucks (SSFS) - Taking place after Sebastian calls MC ignorant following an emotional and tumultuous night at the Yule Ball--and Merlin, she is fucking pissed // Definite canon divergence, extremely morally gray chaos couple, unhinged female lead, merciless flirting, forced proximity, goofy humor, hurt/comfort, a lot of angst, and dark magic being addictive. // ao3 - wattpad

✨One Shots:

How to Defuse a Ravenclaw - Seb finds himself violating his newest rule - do not think about fucking the Ravenclaw // porn with plot // ao3 - wattpad - tumblr

Secret for One - In which using some anti-cheating ink reveals what you and Seb were up to (kissing – the answer is kissing) // teen-rated cute and secretly conniving // ao3 - tumblr

Pass the Ring, Not the Potatoes - Seb gets the flu on Christmas Eve, the night he plans to propose, and starts...hallucinating // holiday explicit comedy // ao3

Little Sis - Anne Sallow POV where Dark Seb attempts to use the relic to heal her // Horror // ao3

When You Were His - Sebastian had this dream—he never told you—of you resting your head on his shoulder in the rain // quick sad read // tumblr - ao3

A Fucking Proper Hogwarts Welcome - The famed DADA duel of how they met // humorous one shot // ao3 - tumblr

✨My FMC:

Lucia Compari

Backstory/Facts

More here eventuallyyyy

✨Game Screenshots/Edits:

Screenshots ⬅️

✨Other fanfic related material:

Resources for FREE images, character creators, and software for your edits, book covers, and banners

Shitty Sebastian headcanons

Shitty Ominis headcanons

Stupid things Sebastian would do to get you to talk to him after a fight

Stupid things Ominis would do to get you talk to him after a fight.

Sebastian Sallow Fucking Sucks Playlist

HL characters breaking you out of detention (unhinged edition)

Where HL characters would work (unhinged modern au)

MY CREATOR POLICIES:

You do NOT have my permission to repost my writing, photos, art, and other creations without my permission especially to other websites, for your own personal use, for cover art, banners, etc.

I'm very strict on AI. You do NOT have my permission to feed my work into any form of AI software for any reason whatsoever.

I am a bookbinder myself, and you're welcome to bind my stories for personal use. I'd love to see pictures if you have pleaseeee!!! BUT keep in mind that selling books, typesets, etc is strictly prohibited for ALL fanfiction. Respect it if you want to keep fanfiction safe.

If you have any questions, my DMs are open! If you're ever unsure, you should always reach out and ask. I will answer lol. I don't get out much hahahaha.

OTHER STUPID SHIT:

Seb and MC are my OTP. I know it's boring, but if you're judging me for pixels idk what to tell ya, babe.

I do love Ominis, but Sebastian just rots my brain.

Poppy is a sweet baby angel who will smack anyone as needed. And I will smack anyone on behalf of Amit.

I have a tendency to write Anne as semi-antagonistic (swear I don't mean to idk why it keeps happening).

I love the morally gray zone of dark magic and how it affects characters. I tend to write it as an addiction.

I don't like Draco Malfoy lol.

WE NEED MORE RAVENCLAW REPRESENTATION!!!!

My female characters are gonna be messy. Always. They don't jog for fun. They have constant bedhead. Poor impulse control. Love to torture themselves. I'm on the complex female character bus, and I will run over all pedestrians.

I don't tolerate rudeness, bullying, misogyny, racism, or homo/transphobia. I will find you and eat your bones if you try shit. (I'll actually just ignore and block you, but you never know). Also fuck JK Rowling lol.

If you read all of this, then you've earned a tiny shard of my soul in thanks, friend. Here's to more delusion and fanfiction.

Thanks for stopping bye! 🥰

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

Hi there, i would like to start off by saying that i really admire your writing and have been following the JG updates for close to a year now. I've been in love with it ever since I read the first chapter and its only gotten more over time, tho I cant complain cuz this sure is my favorite hyperfixation! I've been meaning to leave an ask for a while now but wasn't really sure, but the latest chapters have compelled me to just try so here we are! (really late tho cuz I had my last exam yesterday so i didn't get around to writing this until now lol)

Anyway, I would actually like to express my sincerest gratitude to you and your stories. Not all too long ago I was diagnosed with autism and have had a really hard time handling that information, since i grew up in a "mental illness isn't real" type of household and didn't get a lot of support for starting therapy.

I would classify my flavour of autism as the feeling-out-of-place-within-society variant. I don't really have the "stereotypical" issue where i can't pick up on social cues, but more so that i try to understand people and overanalyze them, only to come to the conclusion that their actions and motivations are unrelateable to me. As a kid, i would often say that i don't feel like a human sometimes.

Because of this, I've always loved non-human MCs in stories since they're far more relateable for me, but a lot of the time authors fail to actually make them feel like a different species. They'll just make them "suddenly understand humans" and drop all special quirks they had as soon as being non-human even just slightly interferes with the plot.

So, I have to commend you for so wonderfully capturing Zhongli's non-human traits and mannerisms. The way he perceives the world and people around him is so fundamentally different from the other characters POVs without feeling forced/unrelateable at all. You can tell he approaches things differently than the human characters do. His character is extremely cohesive and consistent.

(It's at this point that i should probably mention that I in no way mean to label zl as autistic!! i remember you already discussed this topic of non-humans feeling kinda autistic to us and i fully agree with him just being neurodivergent-coded)

When I first discovered JG it had only been a few months since my diagnosis and I would constantly tell myself that im "wrong in the head" and that I'm probably just lazy and weird. Reading JG, following Zhongli's story and his experiences of being "out of place" in this world while trying to be perceived as human, feeling him dread the day everyone will find out he's not like them out of fear they will treat him differently; all of this is extremely relateable for me and has helped me come to terms with myself in the process.

Especially the latest chapter has left me gaping at my wall for hours after i finished it. A lot of the time, Zhongli's pov is kinda difficult for me to fully deciver since he's a very unreliable narrator when it comes to his emotions and feelings. So, whenever he shows even slightest bit of vulnerability, it feels far more monumental for me since it helps me to really understand the extreme disconnect he feels from the essence of his very being. When Ajax told him that he's not a dragon anymore, I was immediately reminded of when a friend first asked me if I might be autistic. Needless to say, this chapter really hit home for me.

And throughout it all, Ajax has slowly turned into my comfort character. I love his attitude towords the whole zhongli-isn't-human situation. The way he treats zl is so heartbreakingly beautiful and really shows his affection. His and Zhongli's interactions actually had me tearing up from time to tim, because it gave me hope that I too can be accepted for who I am, despite the details. Seeing Ajax treat Zhongli "normally" even after everything he found out about him has actually given me the courage to reach out to an old friend and tell her about my diagnosis and everything surrounding that. I don't think I ever would've gotten back in contact with her if it wasn't for JG.

All that being said, I apologize for the info dump no one asked for and sorry for rambling. I just felt like you deserve to know that your writing, your art, is actually reaching and truly moving people out there.

Words couldn't possibly convey all the ways in which reading JG has helped me throughout this journey. JG has, quite literally, changed my life. Genuinely.

Thank you.

HELLO??????????

i don't even know how to respond to this, i'm so honored; like i know fic usually helps people get through stuff or realize some things but it's not often that they come out here and give me the (comparatively) full details of how and why

[ierofrnkk]

Of Starships And Songcords

Poe Dameron x Na’vi Reader [1]

summary: Poe Dameron is doing reconnaissance for the Resistance, and ends up on a moon far, far away from home. (1.7k)

content: all ages, Poe is in unfamiliar territory, gender neutral reader, not beta read, Poe POV for this first chapter

a/n: starting a series!!! how about that!! I’ve been hyperfixating on Avatar for years now, and my little monkey brain couldn’t let go of the idea of Poe somehow ending up on Pandora and finding a hot 9’ tall blue partner. Thankful for the Kelutral community for helping me with the Na’vi dialogue! Also my fic, I make the rules, don’t talk 2 me about how these universes are so far apart ok !!!!!!

—

Poe Dameron was in a very, very bad situation.

He had no idea how he’d ended up here, in the farthest reaches of the galaxy, in a system much more unfamiliar than anything he’d ever experienced.

He’d been sent out to do recon, to see if there were any Resistance members far beyond the looming shadow of the First Order.

There was a point during his flight when he lost contact with home base, his comms fizzling out from being so far out of range; it was terrifying, admittedly, and now was a time he would’ve loved to have been hearing BB-8’s frantic, nervous beeps.

There was nothing but silence, but he persisted onward, long enough until he’d found a planet—much larger than anything he’d been on recently—with several moons.

This was purely unfamiliar territory here for Poe, but the readings from his ship were telling him that one of the planet’s moons was habitable, and he prepared for a quick landing, hopefully finding what he was looking for so he could return home.

The descent was a lot different than he had expected. The atmosphere was dense, but finally gave way to sprawling forests and clear skies.

He didn’t really notice it until he’d begun looking for a place to land, but the trees on this planet were massive, much bigger than anything he’d ever seen before anywhere.

He was certainly, definitely far away from home.

Poe managed to find a clearing, enough for him to land Black One safely and assess his surroundings.

It looked like there had been people living here at one point, the remnants of their presence left behind like echoes. Concrete buildings, vehicles left abandoned and overgrown.

Whoever used to live here hasn’t for a long time.

He knows that there isn’t much else for him to do besides leave the cockpit and seek out anyone that can help him get in touch with home.

This is a completely different system, so he brings his rebreather mask, knowing full well that the atmosphere might be completely toxic to him.

After a few more beats of preparation, Poe opens the hatch of his X-Wing, swings his legs over the side of the ship, and drops down to the ground without any more hesitation.

The flora of this moon was like nothing he’d ever heard of—massive trees, stretching to the heavens, the strangest shaped plants in the most bizarre of colors. It fascinated him.

Poe begins walking, picking a direction and deciding to go in it. He can hear the soft chitter of unfamiliar animals through the thick brush of the forest, and he keeps a wary hand on the holster that holds his blaster to his belt.

In his life, he’s encountered lots of different creatures—some of which he still owes credits to—but the fauna of this moon is a lot for even him.

He’d never think he’d ever be wishing to see a bantha, but he would do anything right now to see one.

Poe treads carefully through the forest, and it feels like he walks for forever before he comes across one of the seemingly abandoned buildings. It’s eerie, the sight of something that clearly was once teeming with life, now having fallen silent and into disrepair.

He’d hoped that this had become a new resistance base, but that doesn’t look to be so.

No ships here are like anything he’s familiar with; no speeders, no X-Wings or quad jumpers. It all looks incredibly…sad. Dull and grey. Military. This was something very far out of his realm of expertise.

Grass has begun growing through the cracks in the concrete, reclaiming the land as it’s been left abandoned for what must be years at this point.

He keeps walking, finding very little of any use to him.

He does, though, manage to find what was helpfully labeled ‘Exopacks’, opening the steel cabinet to find a much better rebreather pack than anything he’d had with him.

He takes the pack, getting one last good breath in before he takes off his rebreather, exchanging it for the Perspex mask that fits nicely around his face. What he assumes is the filter pack is clipped to his belt, and after a few brief moments, he gets the mask sealed on properly, continuing on his way as he explores this unfamiliar space.

As he gets away from the hard stone of the building and returns to the soft grass and lush flora of the forest, he gets the strangest feeling; a tingle on the back of his neck, the slightest bit of unease that makes him feel as though he’s being watched.

But that can’t be, can it? Who would be watching him?

Poe isn’t even sure where he’s going at this point, besides walking in the hopes of finding someone familiar; a resistance member, something.

He continues through the forest, the trees stretching high into the sky, with leaves bigger than himself. He catches a glimpse of a creature through the brush, something that can only be closely compared to a fathier, but much different; skin like a lizard, all different shades of teal and blue and yellow, with six legs.

It notices Poe briefly, its frill going up in defense, before it takes off running in the opposite direction.

Poe relaxes once the creature’s run away, the knowledge that he’s in unfamiliar territory being solidified even further with every passing minute.

That feeling remains, though, the feeling of being watched. He keeps glancing upwards, trying to parse anything out of the thick foliage, hoping to see someone or something there, watching him.

But nothing. Not at first, at least.

Light is beginning to dim, the brightness of the daylight giving way to something beautiful. Every plant glows, a bright and incredible bioluminescence that seems to react to every step he takes.

The entire forest is blooming with life, with a fascinating brightness and beauty that—of all the planets and moons he’s been to—he’s never seen before.

Another creature chittering, the sound akin to laughter, putting him on edge.

He fumbles for his flashlight, needing some better visibility, even in such a beautifully lit space. When the light goes on, is when he sees exactly what’s been laughing at him.

A creature, one that he at first mistakes for a vornskr—but with six legs instead of four, and with much nastier teeth and claws—circles him. His light catches the eyes of a few more, lurking in the shadows and making him feel more vulnerable and exposed.

He fumbles for his blaster, the weapon still set to stun as he aims it at one of the creatures, and fires.

The bolt hits it somewhere in the shoulder, and it whimpers, falling to the ground briefly before getting up dashing away.

Another one emerges from the shadows, baring its teeth to him as it circles. Poe fires again, this time the bolt hitting more in the chest. It drops to the ground, whimpering and wheezing as its legs kick aimlessly.

A third comes out, teeth bared in the low light as it prepares to lunge at him. Just as it jumps, though, an arrow is fired from somewhere unseen, the point landing square in the creature’s throat, dropping it right where it had hit.

The fletching of the arrow glows like the plants do, feathers brilliant and bright, and it doesn’t take him very long to find the source of such a thing.

A humanoid drops from one of the trees, and Poe is immediately intimidated.

Taller than him, at least twice his height. Skin blue like the clearest oceans. Pointed ears, a tail. Big, beautiful eyes.

They look down at him, gaze narrow and bow drawn.

“Kempe si nga?”

Poe puts his hands up defensively—quickly holstering his blaster—and looks up at the humanoid with frightened, wide eyes.

“What?” Is the first thing he asks, the language unfamiliar to him and seemingly only making things worse.

They repeat themselves, this time a bit more firmly.

After another beat of him not responding, certainly looking confused and bewildered in this situation, they loosen the draw of their bow slightly, their gaze still hard and narrow as they look down on him.

“What are you doing?”

It takes Poe a few seconds too many to realize that he can understand them, and he manages a response.

“What—you— you can speak Basic?”

They ignore the question, waiting for him to give a better answer than that.

“I- I needed a place to land, my ship’s—“ he gestures vaguely in one direction, hoping it’s where he’s landed Black One.

“—it’s over there, I was looking for a Resistance base, I didn’t mean to- to intrude or anything..”

Cautious, they lower their bow, taking in the sight of him.

“Are there more of you?” They ask him, ears lowered defensively.

He shakes his head so fast he’s sure that the mask is going to come flying off.

“No! No, it’s just—it’s just me, I swear, I—“

He stops when they reach down, wrap a hand around his bicep and begin pulling him along. He stumbles and rushes to keep up, the fact that they’re twice his height not helping in the slightest.

“What are you—where are you taking me? Oh, kriff.”

Poe is certain he’s just been captured again. Probably by some race that has an alliance with the First Order, and now they have the Resistance’s poster boy on their turf.

“Taking you to the Olo’eyktan. He will decide what to do with you.”

Poe follows along as quickly as he can, doing his best to keep up, the ground beneath their feet lighting up with each step they take. It’s beautiful, and he wishes that he was able to capture the sight of it all.

Thankfully, the journey doesn’t take very long, and they end up at a tree so much larger than any of the other ones. If he was flying, he’d be concerned about such a tree being in his flight path.

This is definitely not good, Poe thinks as he’s pulled along into the base of the massive tree, where dozens more of similar-looking humanoids stand, watching them as they enter.

Maker, how he wishes he could record this moment, remember it forever, especially since this confrontation is not looking promising, and the last thing he wants is to be held hostage by a First Order ally.

Again.

—

First chapter complete!! If you haven’t noticed, this is loosely going to follow the plot of the first Avatar film, but obviously a little different and hopefully enjoyable! I don’t have a set schedule for these, but I hope to put chapters out semi-regularly! Thank you again for reading! <3

Next Chapter

tags: @winniethewife @ominoose @reallyrallyauthor @my-secret-shame @silvernight-m @faretheeoscar @midgardian-witch

[cosmicrescendo]

i'm always kind of sad that this duo gets zero noise (whether it be romantically, platonically, whatever) in favor of just ramming them against kurode because while. their relationships with kurode are important*, hyperfixating on it does a disservice to will and ciel because they're showing 1/1000th of themselves to kurode. you can't take in a full picture by staring at the left-bottom corner really hard.

to know either of these characters, you gotta know the other. my favorite is actually will! but one wouldn't necessarily get that with how much i am always #Digging about ciel. but i gotta. i feel like a lot of things i read about will especially just. doesn't really take in account their relationship with ciel at all (or their lord or their backstory, but i'll save #ThoseConversations to when i publish my will meta Eventually) which are all??? character-defining relationships to them......

i will say with ciel it is really funny that she's doing her damnedest to become A Concept and people in fandom practically treat her as such unknowingly, but for the wrong concepts (a walking corpse, a devil for the hero to slay, and merold 2 being the very annoying and untrue fan-favorite). It's only when you follow the gaze of the person who wants more than anything for her to Remain Human is when you can truly start engaging with her as like, an actual person.

it's really sad. and makes me mad. im gonna work on analysis threads (for Will. because I've already done one for Ciel. that I should probably repost) so that I don't get mad.

*These relationships are important to Kurode and his arc, which is irrelevant to what im talking about. In general being able to put the POV character's thoughts and feelings aside and peer deeper without that bias is important to do sometimes!

[girlbloggerbae13]

Against Better Judgement - Part 1

I have re-entered my hyperfixation of The Boys due to season 4's release. Unfortunately I am a maladaptive daydreamer and can insert an original character into any given piece of media. So this is a Butcher x OC story, where OC is Hughie's big sister...so it does fit the story of the show pretty much to a tee (that is just how my brain cooks it up, sorry) - but there will be more details, side stories, etc to make it more fun for the Butcher storyline! And of course, it's written in OC's pov, so you get to know her backstory and thought process quite a bit. Please let me know what you think!

At 2 o’clock in the afternoon, Mickey should have been awake. A functioning, stable, put-together 29 year-old would be. Not Mickey. She was passed out in bed (a full size mattress resting on the floor in her room), her body still trying to process all the alcohol she had consumed the night before. And the morning before. As well as the few consecutive days before that. That’s how it had been for as long as she could remember, at least since – 

The phone rang. Mickey groggily lifted her head from the pillow, reaching for her cell phone. She had apparently neglected to plug it in before she fell asleep last night. Hughie? She stumbled over to the corner, where her charger was plugged in, not quite able to reach the bed. I’ve been meaning to call him.

“Hughie? I’m sorry, I really have–,” she started, already guiltily rambling, but she was cut off by her brother’s wails. “Hughie?” He wasn’t stopping. “Hugh? Hugh? Hey, what happened? Hughie?” Mickey was already standing up and putting her shoes on, despite the hangover-induced migraine that was making her ears ring. 

Hughie sniffled, gasping, then went silent. His breath was shaky. “Hughie?” Mickey warily said to her brother.

“She, she was j-just standing there,” he started.

“Who was? Hugh. I’m on my way, but I need you to tell me what happened.”

“We were just…I was leaving work, and she…,” his voice cracked as Mickey grabbed her keys, wallet, and flask. Empty. She’d grab something on the way to fix whatever had ruffled her little brother’s feathers. He was a sensitive kid, always had been. It was probably just some car accident he had seen while going on lunch, or even worse, he had been riding his bike and, distracted by the great Billy Joel, accidentally hit a kid. That had happened before. That would make sense. Everything is okay. The bad stuff happens to me, not him. 

“Robin.” He was gasping for air now. Mickey’s heart dropped. “She was one step off the fucking…and he just came out of nowhere…she– I, I didn’t have time to…God, Mick, oh my God, Mickey…Robin, she’s gone.”

Mickey was about to open the door, but she turned around and threw up in the kitchen sink.

—

“The service was beautiful,” Dad said. Mickey had to stifle her laughter. She always did during times like these. Funerals, memorials, the like. The drinking helped, for a little bit at least. When it stops helping, it just means you need to drink more. 

Mickey took a sip of her drink – some shitty wine her dad had likely bought to assuage the “divorcee blues” – and took a look at her brother. He was staring forward, scowling, with blank eyes. She knew what he was thinking. Hughie was asking himself what he could have done differently. What he could have said, or in his instance, where he could have stood differently. He’s wishing it was him instead of Robin. Maybe he’s thinking about joining Robin in death, or maybe that had just been Mickey when her husband died.

She had stood, motionless, next to Liam’s casket, as friends and family came up to her and gave their condolences. Mickey had sat with her head down, avoiding eye contact with Liam’s mother and father. He had been an only child. Perfect Liam. Hughie had nudged her to signal that it was the part of the funeral where she was supposed to stand for the family honors. Had they never married, the “honors” would have gone to his parents. She was the one that wanted a big, white wedding. 

Mickey’s eyes had been squeezed shut as the rifle volleys were fired. Why do they fire blanks at a military funeral? The loud noises can’t be good for attendees suffering from PTSD. Like Liam had been. Mickey counted the shots.

One. Liam's face flashed in her mind.

Two. She squeezed her eyes tighter.

Three. Everything Mickey had ever wanted. Gone.

One of the other soldiers started playing Taps. She didn’t even have tears left, just rage. Mickey wanted to grab the stupid fucking bugle and slam it on her husband’s casket until it split open. She wanted to pick Liam up by the collar of his stupid fucking uniform and shake him back to life. She wanted to scream at him for leaving her a stupid fucking mess. For leaving her alone. All alone. She wanted to smash his head into the pavement until he died. Again.

They handed her – the next of kin – the neatly folded American flag. Mickey didn’t want it; she would have happily given it to her in-laws. She didn’t need another reminder of the mess he had gotten himself, or herself into, for that matter. Liam and his stupid patriotism. He had worshiped Supes, but unlucky for him, wasn’t gifted with any super ability. So he joined the military. For what? A couple years overseas firing at whatever your commanding officer told you to, a shitty government job where you’re just another cog in the wheel of the “Great Big American Dream” (the military industrial complex), and a never ending B-roll of whatever tragedies you had bore witness to. Mickey’s superiority complex had gotten her into psychology, then into the FBI’s training program to be a special agent. But this happened. And when you fire a gun at your officer’s foot – it was the ground next to him…it was never going to actually hit him…she had fantastic aim, and he was pissing her off – you can’t be a special agent. 

That left her a widow at 26. Jobless. And an escalating alcoholic. 

That wouldn’t happen to Hughie, though. Mickey wouldn’t let it. 

She was brought back to reality by her dad. “Michaela, please make sure your brother signs the papers today. It’s what Robin would have wanted” She waved off her dad, scoffing.

The Vought attorney? Paralegal? PR motherfucker. Had some sense of entitlement coming in and asking Hugh to keep his mouth shut. And for only $45,000, as if that could immediately fix his grief. Obviously, it would work in Vought’s favor. No one would ever know that A-Train had run right through Robin, leaving only her hands, still holding on to Hughie’s. And the TV “apology” the asshole had given was disingenuous, to say the least, and a cover-up, to tell the truth. In the middle of the road? Yeah, right. 

“Can I think on it?” Hughie asked the suit. Mickey breathed out a sigh of relief. It’s not like she hated Supes in general, but they reminded her of the military – especially Homelander – so each day her distaste for Vought, The Seven, and any asshole with super-strength grew exponentially. 

“Good choice,” Mickey told her brother after she hastily escorted the suit out the door. “I know the money seems nice, but in my experience, it only pisses you off more. Plus, you’ll probably blow it on something stupid.”

“Like booze?” Hughie gave a half-smile to his sister for the first time since the accident.

“Ha-ha, asshole. Exactly like booze. I’ll stop when I’m ready to come back to real life.”

“Well while you continue to bury yourself in liquor, I’m going to bury myself in work.”

“Not any time soon, though, right?” Mickey asked, standing up.

“Why not? It’ll be a good distraction.” Hughie shrugged. This behavior wasn’t like Hughie at all, granted she had never witnessed him after he lost a significant other before, not like this. Maybe it will be beneficial, at least more beneficial than the coping mechanisms she chose. Everyone handles grief differently, right?

—

“Sorry, we’re closing–” Hughie turned to see Mickey walking through the tech store door. “Oh. We are getting ready to close.”

“I know, I know. I’m not here to shop. Now that you’re back at work, stupidly, might I add, I wanted to offer my free labor. I figured we could do the opposite of what we did when we were little and had chores. You get to sit and boss me around, and tell me what to do,” Mickey dropped the Tupperware of funeral food on the checkout counter. “Plus, I brought you dinner.”

“Really? Funeral leftovers?”

Mickey rolled her eyes. “Look, dude, it was already made. Now will you tell me what wires I need to put where so we can go home and–”

Both the Campbell siblings turned to the door. The bell rang, and the door was open, but neither of them could see a customer.

“Who are you?” A voice said.

“What the fuck?” The siblings said in unison.

“Right in front of you, pricks.” They were staring at the voice when whoever it was held up a small disc, waving it in Hughie’s face. “You think I wouldn’t find this thing?”

“What did you do, Hugh?” Mickey asked her brother, gritting her teeth. Wanting revenge on A-Train was one thing, but if her hunch was correct, this invisible guy was none other than Translucent. How did he get tangled up with one of the other Seven?

The Supe grabbed Hugh’s badge. “Hughie,” he jeered, then without warning, slammed Hugh face down into the counter, cracking the glass case. Hugh was launched over the counter. “Pussy! I followed you from the fucking tower,” Translucent said, lifting Hughie up again.

“The fucking tower?” Mickey was now yelling, but still frozen. “What the fuck, Hugh?”

Hughie was then launched into one of the store’s windows, cracking it. She had to do something. “Oh, and who’s this, Hughie? Your little accomplice?” The voice got closer, and Mickey could hear footsteps making their way towards her. 

An invisible hand grabbed her by the hair, and she instinctively raised her knee, hard, hoping to hit Translucent where it mattered. He groaned, releasing her hair. Mickey tried to dash over to her brother, but was yanked up by her hair again and thrown backwards into a shelf of routers. Now her and Hughie were both on the ground, coughing, and Mickey still had no fucking clue what was going on. She propped herself up against what was left of the shelf, blinking and trying to reset her eyes. 

“Who’s that guy you were with? In the car?” Translucent asked a panting Hughie. “Who was he? He put you up to this?” Now he was screaming, Hughie trying to escape, and Mickey was trying to get herself on her feet. 

“I, I don’t know! He was just some Uber driver, okay?” Hughie’s voice cracked as he pleaded with the Supe. 

Mickey grabbed an extension cord from the ground and slowly prepared to blindly wrangle their attacker, but unable to see the Supe, she didn’t see him making his way over to the wall closest to her, and in one fell swoop, Translucent grabbed the extension cord and threw it, and Mickey still holding on, to the opposite side of the store. She landed behind the shattered glass counter, still faintly able to understand what was transpiring through the ringing the blow had left in her ears.

“Oh don’t give me some bullshit! Uber driver?” Translucent mocked Hughie. Mickey could see a TV being lifted off its wall mount. “What, you think I’m some fucking idiot?” Translucent was walking over to Hugh, the flat-screen lifted high. “Why’d you plant the bug?”

“Please, please. Please, please, no. Please,” Hughie pleaded.

“We’re The Seven. Earth’s most mighty.”

Mickey had to do something. She propped herself up and took position to leap onto the invisible asshole. 

“Champions of the innocent, motherfuc–”

A car drove right into the shop, shattering the windows, knocking down merchandise, and just barely missing Hughie. “Sorry about the mess,” a bearded man said as he exited the vehicle. “You should fuck off, Hughie.”

Mickey stood up shakily. Now she was really confused. “Who the fu–”

The Cockney-accented man turned towards her. “You must be the sister. Sorry to meet’cha under these circumstances, but you two need to scram.”

Holding a tire-iron, the man slowly walked towards where Translucent had landed, smirking. “Well if it ain’t the invisible cunt,” he chuckled to himself, then began swinging blindly around the TV wall. Moments later, he was launched into a rack of pagers.

“Hughie, Hughie, you heard him, we need to go,” Mickey said, trying to usher her brother onto his feet and away from the store.

“No, no,” Hughie stood up, brushing her off. “We can’t leave him here.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Yes, we can!” Mickey was practically pulling Hughie to the emergency exit when he stopped in his tracks. “Hugh. Hugh! No, don’t even–”

Hughie stepped back into the floor of the store with such force that he yanked her back with him. Mickey huffed and ran her hands through her hair. She inhaled and blood ran down her throat, greeting her with the familiar metallic taste.

Brit was attempting – and failing – to wrestle Translucent to the ground. Looked like he was tasting that red metal too, because with an erratic grin, he spat blood all over the Supe, revealing Translucent’s position. Smart. The bearded man then had the upper hand after headbutting the “invisible cunt” and landing a few punches, whilst slowly covering more of the Supe’s body outline with more bloody spit. 

Though England put up a good fight, Translucent got one good lick in, and the man was down on the ground. Translucent looked up at Mickey, who, overcome with agitation and confusion, had not moved her feet, and she was now standing directly behind the groaning Brit. She swallowed a mouthful of blood. She was trained for this at one point in time, right? She at least had the pent-up anger for this. Mickey stepped over the Brit’s body.

“Hey, sweetheart, why don’t you just come back to the Tower with me, and I’ll make sure you don’t ever have to see these assholes ever ag–”

Mickey cut him off with a punch, slugging Translucent right across his face. Predatorial asshole. “Fuck,” she hissed, shaking her hand. She forgot how much she hated hand-to-hand combat.

Translucent stumbled a little, but popped back up, rubbing the side of his jaw. “Look, lady, I’ll give you that one, but let’s just–”

Mickey hit him again, this time with an uppercut. He charged back at her, grabbing her hair – again? – and landing a few blows to her stomach. Mickey snapped back into it, grabbing his forearm and pulling herself around so that her back was against the Supe’s chest. She flung her head back. Hard.

The Supe instinctively launched her into the wall. Now she could really taste the blood. But before she could steady herself, Translucent kicked her in the stomach, knocking her through the wall of TVs.

Thankfully, this had given England enough time to regain his strength, and he stood up, ready to attack, when Translucent gave him the same swift kick he had just given Mickey. 

“So who are you?” Translucent asked. “Fucking spy?! For who, huh? You’re gonna fucking tell me!” Translucent picked up the Brit’s tire iron from the ground. “Or I’m gonna smash your fucking scalp off! Who the fuck are you?”

Through the Mickey-sized hole in the wall, she could see Brit propped up on one of his elbows, smirking. “I’ll tell you who you are,” he said. “A fucking moron. Translucent doesn’t even mean invisible. It means semi-transparent.” England made a quick glance to the other side of the store, where Mickey was able to faintly see Hughie holding an exposed wire. Hughie’s wire couldn’t reach, so England quickly kicked the Supe, sending him backwards where he waltzed right into the wire.

Translucent screamed as he got electrocuted, lighting up the store. Hughie kept screaming until Translucent’s limp body fell backwards onto the ground.

England stood up with a groan, and through shaky breaths, Hughie asked, “Is he…is he dead?”

The bearded man kicked the Supe. “Well he ain’t movin’.”

Mickey, limping, emerged from the wall she had been kicked through, and ignoring the mystery man and the Supe, yelled at Hughie, “I’m gonna need some answers, Hugh. What the fuck have you gotten into?” She gestured back at England. “And who the fuck is he?”

England put up a hand to silence her. “Whoa, whoa, darlin’, don’t fret. Name’s Butcher, and I’m just a friendly neighbor helpin’ out’ya brother here, alright?” He turned to Hughie. “Now, kid, how’d you know the electric could do the job?”

Hughie was still sitting against the TV wall. “Skin’s carbon…highly conductive. I saw it on, uh, Jimmy Fallon…”

Butcher raised an eyebrow, “Would have taken me forever to work that one out. Good job.” One thing about Hughie is that he knows the most random shit. This time it might have just saved them. Butcher made his way to Translucent’s lifeless body, and against her better judgment, Mickey followed his lead. Hughie wasn’t going to go down for this. “Let’s get ‘em in the boot.”

Hughie brought his hands up to his head. “W-wait, wait what?”

“The trunk,” Mickey and Butcher said in unison.

“See, your sister knows the lingo,” Butcher said while trying to get a grip on the Supe’s upper half.

Hughie looked at his sister, then at Butcher. “No, no, I mean, what are we doing with him?” Hughie was panicking now.

Butcher looked up at Hughie. “Well, Hughie, you just offed one of The Seven, mate.”

Mickey let out a mix of a scoff and a laugh, much to Hughie’s dismay. “Me? I…I…,” He turned his gaze to Mickey. “You’re okay with this, Mick?”

“Well no, but…I mean, he has a point, and I’m not getting in trouble for this.”

“What?! I…I…Butcher, you hit him with a fucking car!” Hughie shouted.

Butcher dropped Translucent’s torso. “Look, potato fucking potahto, we’re all in a shitload of trouble–”

“No, no! No, no, we’re not. He attacked us, and you’re…you’re a federal officer, you know?” Hughie argued, and Mickey dropped the Supe’s legs, standing up to cross her arms. This smug, sloppy, arrogant asshole is not a federal officer. “Just…just call the fucking FBI!”

The hesitation in Butcher’s voice confirmed Mickey’s suspicions. “Yeah, o-okay, so look…technically I’m not a fed,” he said, shrugging, as if this wasn’t just the atomic bomb of all bombs to drop on Hughie right now, let alone a less-than-awesome first impression to have on Mickey. 

“Jesus, fuck,” Mickey started, holding her head in her hands, shaking it.

“WHAT?!” Hughie practically screeched. “Then who the fuck are you?”

[shadiieye]

So let’s talk about the minecraft rabbit hole I have fallen into.

So for a while I’ve been hyper fixated on different minecraft YouTubers.

TheFamousFilms- I liked his old videos but honestly, opinions changed but uhhh….he chill, I guess. I don’t watch him anymore.

Minecraft Origins- This is a multiple series things. The main series I still like to this day despite the group disbanding is Fairytale origins S5 (Boatnose & CrazyMitch POV) Origins of Olympus S2 (Owtreyalp POV) OriginZ (Ritchie POV). Honestly, I still rewatch Fairytale Origins S5 from Lucas’s POV to this day. I honestly wish they could continue but I understand why it was canceled.

Fnaf Minigames- I use to love this series as a kid. I’d always remember what episodes are now currently missing and a lot of plot points. My favorite character has to be Bangle. Though, as I look back, I can tell it is really cheesy and doesn’t have stuff that makes sense, I mean, who the hell names a pair of twins both Elizabeth. I usually rewatched 3-4 old episodes when it was from Bangle’s POV and it’s usually from season 2. Never liked the switching POVs.

DSMP- can you blame me? I still have a flag from this series actually, I just don’t hang it. My favorite characters have to be Tommyinnit, Revivebur, Ghostbur, Technoblade, Quackity, and Awesamdude. (Note: I like the characters, I do not condone the actions of a specific individual or any other actions of other people.) I still partially hyperfixate to this day on this. I never really finished the series nor plan to. I know the ending for some of the characters but It’s not worth finishing this. Kinda sucks to find out how a lot of the people from this either suck, got actual trauma or disappeared.

PrettyDepressedProductions- I like his old Candy’s series. His new one is fine and I’m excited to see what happens, despite me skipping many videos. I also like his paranormal investigation series. It’s entertaining and this man has showed up in my dreams just to be stupid and honestly, I would’ve done the same and sit upside down on a couch while people talk about being concerned over me.

Empires Smp- I started watching this because of Rhapsoddity’s Vigilante Sheriff au as I’d at least like to know what I’m getting myself into. I watched season 1, turned out i didn’t need to. Then watched season 2 and enjoyed that.

Life series- this is where the rabbit hole realization began. I became extremely hyperfixated on Jimmy/Solidarity. I love the fact Evo was brought into this series by the fans and half the lore didn’t come from the actual people! It’s literally from the fans bringing it along to life series and it’s amazing. I’m hyped to see the next life series.

Aphmau- I’m in a chokehold with this series. I gotta say I really like Ein, Zane and Asch. Ein is my main guy, silly, chaotic while also needing the attention and time to grow as someone. I definitely didn’t skip over her series to a recap cause I’m lazy. I would’ve loved to see his character developed but again, this is a kids channel with mature series. Zane is honestly relatable with his Mystreet beginnings. Feeling overshadowed by your golden child, older brother and being insecure. His character had so much potential, yet in the Smp, he feels like a one note. Asch is a character that needs more attention and I love him.

Ethobot- I know the controversy but I more focus on the characters. Even though he’s similar to Aphmau, the biggest thing I love about this channel is the fact there’s a story in a way. We know Etho’s mom is dead, there was a time he was human, etc. so much potential, yet some stuff I wish was done better, even if it’s basically a kids channel. 1. Who in the right mind has a Teacher and daughter of the mafia, roam in the jacket and skirt, seems inconvenient, 2. Ruby does not look like she’s a technician and 3. Can we not have people obsessed with others, it’s annoying.

Boomiee- I have fallen into the rabbit hole. I saw TikTok’s about him awhile back and ignored it until I watched a video and then watched all of it and now I’m stuck here. I’m in love with the animation and character. I yearn for more!

The Central Lore of Showtime Smp- and I watched a few hours of Vods just for central lore and Boomie. I have fallen quite deep.

Fnaf Chronicals- Davis got great series. Molten is funny guy and Davis is a corpse!

Otso and Derpy- I like Otso. He chill and doesn’t seem threatening until you fuck up. I love his story and I’m glad for him. Uhhh….Derpy and Toby are doing something, idk what.

Spike the Bat?- it’s an old series I watched, can’t find it anymore but I had a favorite episode where Spike saw  hallucinations. I kinda miss it but I know the creator is doing other stuff.

Tailstheponyfox- I like a lot of the lore and videos. I wish he posted more. Though out of all series, he has my favorite William Afton. Everyone has the same thing, he’s either pure evil, mysterious, or someone fallen from grace. But, this version actually shows guilt! That he knows what he did and wants to be better!

Kiritothewolfox_- I liked him when I was kid. Long videos and decent videos. I stopped watching him because his lore became convoluted. Gods and other stuff. I lost interest because of that and honestly, his old videos aren’t that great. He’s doing something now but I don’t keep up with him.

Itsatwinthing72- I loved this series! It was great, it was funny when they kept moving and that Bonnie was really good. I have no clue what’s going on with it since it’s been 2 years without mentions of what happened. My favorite episode was when Bonnie was hiding from Thinkly and Maddie due to being antisocial and shy. It’s so relatable, I behave in a similar way cause I wanna talk to you but i do things to grab your attention to at least have you start the conversation.

Nick the Skeleton- I’ve been interested in his Life story series and Glitch Generations. I’ve also watched his Fairytale origins s5. He doesn’t post at the moment but his series are good, if you ignore his repeating lines. I wanna see where his stories go when he comes back though

Lefty’s Diner- great series but bad dynamics. Season 1 was peak but had many flaws. People falling in love way too quickly and why the hell would you be stupidly open about your abuse!? Funtime freddy shouldn’t have been that open! Also, WHO THAT FALLS IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE OVER GAY BACON!? It’s funny cause gay bacon but why would Molten automatically fall for Lefty?! They just met! Season 2 isn’t too great and has flaws and I refuse to watch season 3, I hate switching POV. It’s bothersome and I watch these channels for 1 POV or sometime 2. I ain’t a fan of what they did to Frostbear, Dreadbear and Grim Foxy. Why do they have to be gods?! Why not do what Limited did and make them spirits?

Fnaf Limited- I like how we have a British Frostbear. I can’t say much as it ended and never really finished.

I’ve been stuck in this rabbit holes for way too long QuQ

[idontknowreallywhy]

Thanks to @ficwip for the questions. Thought I’d have a go to see where I’ve got up to / maybe motivate myself out of a writing slump.

Didn’t quite manage to get it done by end of year but I never do finish anything by NYE and consequently as a mid-January birthday girl I often decide to have my new year start a little later in the month anyway so…

Herewith waffle mostly written while trying not to nod off on a plane…

1. How many fics have you worked on since January?

Complicated question… I THINK - 29 in total?

In terms of what I’ve actually POSTED here…

11 one-shots [ How to Infuriate Your Engineer , The Last of Them , Comb , Pressure , Push , Shine , Expert , Thread , Scott is Not Fine Catharsis , A Refrigeration Situation ] - 11,502 words total.

65 Chapters covering 10 fics [ Estera (3) ; Bearded (3) ; Presence (5) ; Composition (4) ; Resurface (36) ; Father’s Day (4) ; Teeth (2) ; 75 (3) ; Fishtank-ed Up (2) ; An Eyebrow-Razing Incident (3) ] - 72,263 words total.

54 WIP Snippets which haven’t become finished chapters or one-shots yet covering 3 of the above and 8 other fics [ Blue (15) ; Estera (12) ; Burn it All (8) ; Snapshots (2) , Octopus House (4) ; Red (3) ; Fishtank-ed Up (3) ; In a Glass Darkly (1) ; Oort Cloud (3) ; Resurface (1) ; ?? (2) ] - 17,703 words total.

All that totals 101,468 tumblr-posted fic-words so I did hit my target of 100k although I didn’t actually FINISH as many stories as I intended to!

Then there is an additional 46,000 I have in draft for the Estera universe… some of which might make in into publishable form at some stage, some just for my own amusement 🤣 plus another 4,000 or so for other fics including the end of Resurface… and a couple of brand new ones which may or may not see the light of day…

So objectively I really did do a fair bit of writing this year and shall endeavour to allow myself to be proud of this!

2. What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

Err… Finishing one? 🤣

Did I though… um…

Ok scratch that.

I wrote a cheesy little song for one of them then threaded references to it through some chapters in a couple of fics. That was new. Whether successful? Well I like it but I can hear it in my head which probably makes it work better for me than anyone else. However I enjoyed myself so…

3. What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.).

Well, my beloved Thunderbirds are Go, obviously! Hyperfixation much?

4. How many fandoms did you write for this year?

Just the one :)

5. What ships captured your heart?

Newly this year? I guess to interpret the word ‘captured’ literally to mean ‘possessed entirely against my will’ then I guess… Scott/Havoc (even though I still scream NOOOoOoOOoOOOOOO internally when I type that!). It’s not a natural fit for me as I do tend to favour some potential for a happy ending and it’s harder to see how it is possible with this ship but some fabulous fics have emerged on it. I do love a redemption arc though and I like how various people have developed Havoc’s character in their stories. But also still noooooooo my little guy deserves better-happier-uncomplicated. But also also yeeeeeesssssssss.

6. What characters captured your heart?

Weirdly, because I did not intend this at all and most of the time I want to slap him with a really large fish… I’ve written a fair bit of Jeff POV in the latter part of the year! Both pre-Lucy death and post-ZeroX. In between those times I still want to slap him with that fish.

7. Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

A new ship, yes. And one that was completely unexpected and I don’t think anyone else has tried yet but I’m enjoying it. Not made a lot of progress yet so won’t say any more than that!

8. What fic meant the most to you to write?

Resurface I think. It covers a heck of a lot of headcanons and yeah… it turns out walloping Virgil is a fun way to prod at all of the bro relationships. And I have enjoyed the process of iteratively fixing Earth&Sky because (as I seem to have written it at least) their partnership is beautiful but kind of messed up and I have to believe they can get a better balance back. I hope the way I’ve done it works for people.

9. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

I think 75. It was really fun to look forward and imagine a good love-and-family-filled future for them all, especially my boy who didn’t think he’d get one.

10. What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

Well I was hoping to say Resurface but given I haven’t yet… hmmm. I might also have said Father’s Day until I randomly started to write more of it 😅 err… what have I actually finished? Let’s say 75 cos I actually finished that! (and pretend I don’t have an idea for a follow on)

11. What fic was the most difficult to write?

Estera. Which is a strange answer in some respects as I’ve compulsively written loads of it (as above!) but well… I’ve had a bit of a crisis of confidence and hit a silly, anxious wall about writing the actual chapter that comes next in the story and thus it has hung in limbo for months. My dearest co-writer is despairing of me perhaps only marginally less than I am despairing of myself!

12. What fic was the easiest to write?

The early parts of Resurface just rushed out as fast as I could type them… it got harder as I tried to heal them from the mess I made though 🙃 More recently the Oort Jeff stuff has been the topic for the most readily flowing words.

13. What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

Ignoring WIP posts, shortest would be “Scott is Not Fine” which is barely more than a Drabble at 202 words.

Longest? If it needs to be entirely within the year - Resurface (49,720 & counting) but I added a little to Estera which is longest overall (72,319 posted) but that word count is shared with some other wonderful writers and is mostly 2023.

14. What were your go-to writing songs

I have a few playlists for depending on what I’m writing :)

I do listen to the OST a lot when out and about but often not when actually writing as I guess each part of it is so strongly linked to what is happening in the episodes that it is distracting if I’m writing something different. Often I get ideas by listening to something totally random. I listen to a lot of classical and it may only be a few phrases that nudge something -any kind of soprano/tenor instructment interaction (e.g. cello/violin, trumpet/french horn, flute/bassoon) immediately conjures Earth&Sky for me. 99% of my writing is with music of some kind in the background (because I usually have an earbud in) although in retrospect I might not be able to tell what it was.

15. What was the hardest fic to title?

Resurface. Because I had another title in mind but it was already the title of one of my all-time favourite fics. But then this one came to mind and fitted perfectly!

16. What's your favorite title of the year

Haha, well I like what I’ve been doing with the chapter titles of Resurface. But “An Eyebrow-Razing Incident” is probably my favourite for the pun / spoiler combo.

17. Share your favorite opening line

Virgil’s forehead sank onto the bar and squelched slightly.

18. Share your favorite ending line

A brand new score had been opened. But Virgil knew the notes now. They’d compose this next version together.

19. Share your favorite piece of dialogue

This one because I worked on it for so long to get it right. It’s by no means the only important moment between Scott and Virgil… but is the first of a few steps to sorting things out:

“And I’m… grey, then?”

“No! Not usually! You’ve always been blue, like the sky… there are so many shades of it, with hints of yellow or gold…”

“There’s a but coming, I can feel it.”

Virgil grabbed Scott’s hand again as if to reassure himself his brother wouldn’t float away before he managed to express this.

“Sometimes it’s like you fade a little.”

“I fade?”

“You try to be a lot of things, Scotty and it’s admirable, it really is, and you do it so well but sometimes I worry there isn’t enough of you left to be you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You’re blue when you laugh at your own jokes, or smotherhen us and make a leaning tower of pancake… when you beat Gordy at his own prank game or act all melodramatic when you’re smuggling in the sweets Grandma doesn’t approve of. When someone says pie and your eyes gleam and when you randomly recite Shakespeare inaccurately and out of context or run up the stairs for no reason and surprise hug Allie… those times you’re a rainbow of blues. In the field when you’re problem solving at the speed of light and oh! That time you flew Shadow just for fun you came back shining so brightly…”

Yet again at the mention of Shadow, Scott had startled but recovered quickly and deflected:

“My Shakespeare is always in context.”

“Sure it is, Scott. And it’s very YOU.”

A flicker of resolve hardened his brother’s expression and Virgil was suddenly terrified as to how his clumsy explanation could have been interpreted by someone who was already chronically shackled to the ‘brave face’ impulse…

“But Scott, listen to me, this is important.”

He waited until his brother dropped his eyes from the horizon and met his own.

“I’m not saying it’s just when you are happy, you know? When you’re worried or angry or even sick or even… no, especially when you let yourself be vulnerable for one damn second, you’re you then too.”

“Then…” Scott sagged a little and an edge of indigo desperation coloured his voice “I don’t understand what the grey thing is meant to mean!”

“The grey thing… I guess it’s how my brain interprets the way I sometimes miss you when you are right in front of me. When you get hidden by everything else you think you are supposed to be. You lead so naturally, you do it without even trying but sometimes… sometimes you put on that damn grey baldric and it smothers you.”

“But the baldric is silver. My baldric is silver to match One!”

“It used to be blue though. Blue to match you.”

20. Share your funniest line

Ooh. I don’t know if I do “lines” - most of my attempts at humour are situation or context-specific…

But I’ll go with this little section from toddler-Scotty because it still makes me chuckle:

“Dada! ‘Cotty duck in fidge. Oh no!”

The tiny child lifted his apple sauce covered hands and looked at them as if suddenly realising they were attached to his arms. Bright blue eyes gazed down at him with an expression of extreme innocence:

“Oh no! ‘Cotty all messy! Ooopsiiiieee!”

Clearly realising his father had no follow-up questions to his comprehensive situational update, Scott plunged his hand back into the dish and shoved a fistful of pie crust into his mouth.

21. What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

This is a tricky one because frankly everything I manage to create surprises me.

Resurface surprised me with its length. I am a sucker for detail and dialogue and combining that with the fact I had a lot to get the boys to work through… it shouldn’t have surprised me really. But it did.

22. What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

By hand? Hahaha, I’d never know what I’d written!

I’m still playing the risky game and throwing things down in apple notes on iphone, although have been trying to tag them a bit now so I can actually find things. I tried google docs - it drove me crackers by messing with my punctuation although I tend to copy paste into that when I’m finished to get a word count. Tried a couple of online drafting tools but they felt over-complicated. So am still in market for a good app I guess.

23. If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

In retrospect I think maybe the end of Composition. Which is funny because despite having planned it for AGES as a kind of bridge between Presence and Resurface, I rushed the last chapter out in a hurry as I’d hit the point in Resurface that refers back to it and needed to ensure all the parts of the circle were in place. But exploring how Virgil sees the world is one of my favourite things and setting that short fic in a musical context was very satisfying. And it may be cheesy but this line still makes me smile:

With a satisfied hum, Scott pressed his cheek into his head and the timid, hopeful note in Virgil’s heart swelled into a triumphant chord of determination.

24. Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

Yes. I commissioned a piece of fanart and it is beautiful and perfect and I desperately want to share it but I must not until I finish the darn story because the whole point was it was a reward for finishing (I just got it a touch early…)

SOOON THOUGH.

25. How did you recharge between fics?

What is this ‘between’ you speak of? 🧐

26. Did you create fanworks other than fic?

No, unless Tiny Tracys count 🤣

27. How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

I’m not good at prompts with time limits, it seems. I did write a little for Fishtank Week and there was the Secret Santa of course.

28. If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

So many people, basically all of Thunderfam who have encouraged me to try something I never thought I could do. But if I start a list I know I’ll miss someone then feel bad so I’ll stick to just one shoutout to @sofasurf for constantly encouraging me in both writing and life in general and who is a most excellent co-conspirator.

29. What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

Well I WAS going to say “finish Resurface” but… *eyes calendar and sighs*

30. What would you like to write next year?

Obv finish Resurface, and then I want to find my confidence with Estera again. So many ideas for Scott & Jeff and Allie & Scott and some fish tank too… and I’d like to write more John and more Kayo… not to mention the big mad apocalyptic fic which I really need to plot out properly before doing any more with…

But probably I’ll just end up writing about the boys playing on an airport travelator or stuck at the bottom of a hole or something because sometimes the pieces I’m most proud of are the ones that come out of nowhere 🙄😅🤪

[trekkiehood]

so you said you could be persuaded to talk about your “throughout the great war” series … i am here to persuade you 🫶🏻🫶🏻

It doesn't take a lot to get me to talk about it lol, it's all I think about anymore 😂 😅

I'm so excited about this series!! Putting it under a read more because it got long lol

So currently I'm posting "Numbers With A Death Wish" which is the starting point. Here we have Buck being shot down and it really only covers the month of October. I have some more little one-shots I'd like to write but they're not super plot heavy so I don't know when I'll get to writing them.

My current WIP is my Radio Wip (mid March 1944) followed by Great Escape Fallout (end of March 1944) and then Whipping Post Wip (April 1944). These are all from Bucky's pov and I'm leaning towards this being a long fic. If I do this then the fic would probably run through at least September 1944 but maybe I'd just run it through the end of the war lol idk.

I've written some of Radio and a good bit of Whipping Post so we'll see how quickly we move through this. I'll continue to tease as I write because I crave writing validation lol.

After Whipping Post we start to see the cracks more in both of our majors. Since this one is from Bucky's pov we'll have Bucky withdrawing while Buck is struggling and trying to control the things around him and stay positive for the men.

The next main plot point is when Buck starts acting "weird" and Bucky starts to notice and that's when Gale has a massive breakdown. And Bucky is like ?????? This is around July of 1944 and is immediately followed by a very rough August plagued with deadly illness and psychotic breaks. Now this will be a VERY important plot going forward. Trying not to spoil every single plot I have lol but I don't think it's shocking to say that one of the Buckie's nearly dying of illness will be important going forward 😂

The plot after this is in September 1944 and it will be a turning point in the story. Kind of a "things will never be the same now". But what's FUN is that it's from Bucky's POV but what happens to Buck will be behind closed doors hehe. So at least at the beginning he/we will know that SOMETHING happened and that it has lasting effects, but exactly what will be unknown. After that it's just more of Bucky watching Buck lose it. I have specific things but they are less plot heavy and more episodic. I may still keep it in one long fic but idk lol.

I also plan for some Buck POV one-shots/short stories interspersed and linking with this longfic. It will include things like what started the July spiral and what exactly happened to him in September (technically the September one will be from my OC Wesley Davidson's pov and is the reason for his existence lol). I would also like to play with Buck's German and Jewish heritage. I might let him confide in Solomon things he hasn't even told Bucky about but idk yet. I need to study Judaism more and solidify how much Buck keeps from Bucky. But regardless, even as I'm writing the longfic from Bucky's pov, we will be getting little tie in snippets with what's going on with Gale too!

The biggest unknown in this series is the forced march. I don't know what I want to do. Right now most of this series comes from a place of "canon enough no one can prove it didn't happen in the show" so I'm not sure how I want to end it. Because on one hand, so much angst potential just keeping it mostly canon with Buck escaping without Bucky. But also... idk that I want to separate them lol. And idk if that means they both stay or go. Essentially, the ending I have no real vision for. But that's a good long way away.

We have at least nine arcs I have planned for this long fic I will hopefully come up with a great name for lol. So assuming I do it this way (which the poll is also leaning towards) And then at the very least three-four Buck pov fics. So pray the hyperfixation lasts long enough to get through it lol.

Even though the "main" fic is from Bucky's pov this series is about Buck and his lack of mental stability and trauma in the stalag. It's just more fun to hurt him with Bucky watching hehe

If you have any specific questions I would LOVE to answer them!! Here is a general outline I posted awhile back if you want to ask about a specific plot. This is the ramble I have for now but I will probably ramble again lol. Appreciate all of the support and if there is anything specific you would like to see please let me know and I'll see if I can work them in!!