#there is also!!! a lot of restrictions placed in writers

[straight-into-the-animus]

i hate unfollowing long time mutuals but i dont hate it so much when they reblog shit like writers don't have anything to worry about with ai stealing works so they shouldnt be as upset as REAL artists so friendly reminder that if you think writing isnt as tough or respectable as other forms of art then please kindly unfollow and block me.

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

what friends do | f. odair

masterlist

summary: you were a simple town girl. finnick odair was the crown jewel of panem. both of you needed an escape and found it at a secluded beach just outside district four. these were three ingredients that created a year-long friendship. but were friends supposed to have… impure thoughts about one another? you weren’t so sure.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: smut, wayyy too much detail, dirty thoughts, friends-to-lovers, mild angst, mostly readers pov, pre-rebellion, HEAVY dirty talk, fingering, unprotected p in v (big no no), multiple orgasms, so much pining, creampie, cock-warming

notes: i’m so sorry this took me so long. life has been up my ass lately and, as y’all know, i’m a slow writer. but thank you sm to everyone who patiently stuck around, i love y’all <3 this was supposed to be a short smut fic but um, apparently not. anyway, this has taken long enough to come out so imma stop rambling. ENJOY <3

word count: 11.7k

Mid-Autumn was closely approaching District Four.

Harvest in the fishing industry was at its peak and the docks were chock-full with boats bringing in their plentiful catches. The town centre was a bustling scene, crowded with people selling produce and trading for food to bring home to their family's kitchen table.

Last year's autumn harvest was the same picture—overflow, hustle, commotion; chaos like this was something you never came to enjoy. So, it was also around this time last year that you had decided to set off in search of the perfect location away from the rest of society. A place where you could be at peace, where you could forget the disastrous world you lived in.

District Four was home to many popular beaches, but the one you discovered was uninhabited, isolated, found after an hour-or-so-long trek through overgrown dirt pathways and a thicket of sea-grape and palm trees. A true paradise away from society. Or so you had thought in the first few weeks.

You weren't too sure when he had started showing up or how he had even discovered the beach.

However, one evening, as you were seated in the sand watching the sunset on the darkening horizon, you noticed a dark figure diving and surfacing in the flat, glimmering water. Their movements were so poised and fluid like the ocean was something they had conquered. You guessed it to be a dolphin or shark because there was no way a human being could move so gracefully.

But then the figure started wading to shore, and the next thing you knew, they were standing on two legs and exiting the water. You knew then that you had guessed wrong. The sun behind him obscured the bronze of his hair and the swirling lukewarm sea that pooled around his pupils. All you could see was the outline of his tall broad figure as he hiked through the sand toward you.

Fear had told you to bolt from the approaching stranger. You were in the middle of nowhere—it was the perfect place to be murdered or kidnapped. But something else, some deep and tangible instinct, also told you to stay.

"Didn't realise I had a captive audience," thestranger spoke, droplets of gleaming water sliding off his body and into the sand as he stood a few feet away.

Taken by surprise, you fumbled over your words trying to form a sentence in response. "I wasn't—I didn't—"

"Easy, honey," he chuckled. The sound was so warm and pleasant that it almost alleviated the slight chill in the air. "Just pulling your leg."

Your mouth formed a small circle. "Right," you said, gaze locked on the golden sand in embarrassment. "I, uh, didn't think anyone else knew about this place."

To be honest, you were pretty sure it was a restricted area. Probably the reason it was so isolated. If a Capitol official found you, the consequences would most likely involve your tongue, a scalpel, and a hell of a lot of pain. All for a wanting a little peace and quiet.

"Neither did I," the man said. "I only come every now and then. Need an escape from the constant buzz back home. Time for myself, you know?"

"Yeah." You smiled, feeling the stranger's words resonate in your soul. "Yeah, I do know."

You thought you saw the corners of his lips curve into a smile, but the shadows on his face were so prominent that you couldn't tell.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked.

Well... if he were going to murder you, he would have done it already. So, you nodded. Sometimes you questioned your survival instincts. Or lack thereof.

He didn't leave much space as he sat beside you. Only an inch or two, meaning you could feel the humidity of body heat and salt water emit from his skin. Even sitting down, he was still quite tall compared to you, but that wasn't what caused your heart to drop into your stomach.

The setting sun, which no longer disguised his face with shadows, now illuminated his entire figure and revealed his identity. His hair was a mess of wet wavy strands, the colour alight like a pale fire beneath the sun's orange radiance. His skin was sun-kissed, no doubt from days he had spent perfecting his swimming abilities. And those dimples... wow.

He was gorgeous. A man sculpted by the gods of beauty, just like everyone in Panem had depicted him to be. Even his sea-green eyes were as striking as everyone said.

Finnick Odair.

The man who was crowned victor of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games at fourteen. Who trapped multiple tributes at once in a net and killed them one by one with his famed trident. A killer.

The man whose reputation in the Capitol was known nationwide. A proud womanizer.

That was what everyone made him out to be.

Only, in the brief interaction you shared with him, he seemed like quite the opposite. He radiated effortless charm and warmth, but not in the arrogant way the media had portrayed him. Then again, did the media ever accurately portray the truth of anything?

It was then that you determined it didn't really matter who people said he was or what he had done. He was a human being—just like you. He deserved a chance.

His pink lips stretched into a knee-weakening smile; you were grateful that you were sitting down.

"I'm Finnick, by the way."

The both of you knew he didn't need to introduce himself. The whole of Panem knew his name and face. Though the fact that he humbly did so anyway made you like him the tiniest bit more.

You returned his smile with one of your own and introduced yourself.

Time passed and the sun had set; the moon had risen, but you both remained sitting side-by-side in the sand. Conversation flowed so naturally between the two of you that it was difficult for you to remember that stopping and getting some air into your lungs was an important factor in keeping a conversation going... as well as keeping you alive.

You told him about yourself as he did himself—some things that were meant to remain secrets, some things that seemed too strange to tell anyone else.

At some point, he had offered to walk you back to your house. The trek was over an hour long but neither of you seemed to care. The time flew by. 

When you were standing at your front door and he was gazing up at you from the bottom of the steps, you both promised to meet again the next day. And you did. 

As you did the day after that... and the day after that... and the day after that...

**********

As soon as the nights carried that familiar chill and the town congested with markets and fervent buyers, you knew mid-autumn had made its return. This meant most of your evenings were spent at a certain secret beach with a certain District Four victor.

Having already finished his pre-sunset swim, Finnick was sitting beside you, fingers weaving dried palm leaves into the mat beneath you. A couple of weeks after you had first met, he had shown up one day holding it all rolled up in hand.

"Made this for you to sit on," he had said with a proud smile. "Took nearly all night and earned me a few good finger cramps, but I think it was worth it."

Pinpointing the exact moment your attraction to him first formed was tricky. However, that gesture was one your mind returned to often. That little palm-leaf mat, the time and effort he put into making it, was scored on your heart.

Finnick was very much a gentleman.

He would always offer you a hand when standing up and whenever you walked back through the overgrown seaside forest. Sometimes he picked fruits for you such as sea grapes and mangos or would climb one of the palms and knock down a few coconuts. One thing he always, always did wasmake sure you got home safe; he never let you out of his sight until you were safe inside your front door.

All those gestures, big and small, added up. Soon enough, Finnick Odair had infiltrated your heart and consumed all your thoughts. You saw his sea-green eyes staring back at you whenever you gazed out at the ocean by your house. Felt the ghost of his hands on yours whenever you picked a grape from the kitchen fruit bowl. Heard his voice calling out your name in your most vivid of dreams.

But there was more to it than innocent adoration.

The guilt came when your gaze started lingering on his body a little too long whenever he left the water at the beach. Shimmering droplets would glide down his beautifully tanned skin; his arm muscles would flex as his fingers raked back his dripping wet hair. It wasn't yourfault he was the walking definition of perfection.

Unholy was the closest word to describe the filthy thoughts that had perverted your imagination. What started as endearing daydreams soon became fantasies that had you seeking relief between your thighs late at night. Your thoughts went wild whenever he dropped you off at your house. It took everything in you not to invite him inside and ask him to fuck you senseless against the front door.

All you had to do was ask. You knew he would say yes.

A year is a long time to know someone. A long time for feelings to grow. It also serves as a lot of time for things to happen between two people—things that linger in your mind even months after they have happened.

Like the times he would walk by you and teasingly whisper something provocative in your ear, then disappear for an hour of swimming, leaving you all hot and flustered in the sand. Neither of you would acknowledge it when he returned. Or when conversations took such a flirtatious turn, the tension only dissipated when houses were separating you at the end of the night.

But that's just what friends do, right? They tease and banter?

Maybe.

However, not all things could be chalked up to being just friends.

Another thing about Finnick's eyes was that they were transparent. You saw how helplessly they clung to you the days you stripped to your underwear and joined him in the water. He had this sort of reaction that turned his eyes into a dark violent sea, like you were some divine temptation planted to test the strength of his resolve.

Sometimes he could resist. Other days it was obvious he couldn't help but reach out and touch.

He would try to be subtle about it. Hands holding yours a little longer than necessary when he helped you stand up. Sitting too closely beside you so that your arms and legs would graze against each other. Brushing off pieces of seaweed that would stick to the dip of your waist and then constantly using the same excuse just to feel the heat of your soft skin.

There was one interaction, though, that you fell asleep to the thought of every night. It was a moment when things almost went too far; an interaction friends definitely did not share.

You could remember it clear a day. Hell, you could still feel it clear as day.

It was a hot summer evening. Both you and Finnick were at the beach and swimming in the water since being in the muggy coastal heat for more than five minutes was parallel to roasting in a thousand-degree sauna.

You were about twenty meters offshore, bobbing beside Finnick as he dived to collect various seashells. That boy could hold his breath for an unbelievable amount of time which meant sometimes you spent minutes alone on the surface, waiting, listening to the calm waves lap eerily around you.

This is exactly how people die in shark movies, said an unwarranted voice in your mind.

As usual, a minute went by. Nothing to worry about. Then a minute turned into two and you were starting to become a little concerned. And then it was two and a half minutes and you were now panicking.

"Finnick?!" you called out, hoping he could somehow hear you from the dark depths.

Three minutes had totalled, and you were pretty certain he had drowned. Just to add to the utter dread coursing through your veins, something slimy brushed against your foot. Most likely a piece of seaweed, but you didn't make that connection at the time.

That very same moment, Finnick burst through the water's surface, only mildly breathless and pinching a small iridescent shell between his fingers.

"Look at thi—"

Before the words could leave his mouth, he found himself enveloped in your distraught embrace. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, crying tears of relief. 

Damn that stupid seashell.

He automatically secured you in his arms, concern palpable in his voice as he asked, "Are you okay?"

You pulled away, an indistinguishable combination of tears and saltwater rolling down your cheeks. Though it was hard to miss the look of distress found in your furrowed brows and trembling lips.

"Don't ever do that to me again!" you exclaimed, gripping his arms to emphasise your urgency. "You hear me?! Ever!"

Finnick's head tilted slightly, surprised by your emotional reaction. He hadn't realised he meant so much to you. The surprise faded into remorse, softening his features.

"I won't. I won't, I promise," he said sincerely. His eyes flickered over the worry lines etched on your forehead. He unconsciously brushed his thumb over the lines, hoping to draw out the anxiety with his touch, and then tucked away a strand of hair. "I'm sorry I scared you."

You took in a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to compose yourself. A mess of emotions stirred inside you—worry, embarrassment, irritation. You were partially frustrated with Finnick for making you fear for his life. Mostly annoyed with yourself for showing such vulnerability in front of him.

"God, you're an idiot sometimes," you sighed, shaking your head.

He smirked. "Didn't think you cared so much about me."

"No, you just don't think, Finn."

He glanced off into the distance for a moment with furrowed brows. "Well, that's definitely not true," he countered, meeting your gaze again with a half-smirk. "I think about a lot of things, actually."

"Oh? Like what?" you asked, slightly annoyed. "Do tell me what the great Finnick Odair thinks about instead of his own safety."

Slowly, the smirk faded from his lips. Something new tinged the atmosphere and suddenly everything around you seemed hotter than it previously was. Not an uncomfortable or sweltering heat, but one that held an intensity that sparked the air with electricity.

You suddenly became very aware that Finnick was still holding you in his arms. You recognised the confined proximity between you and him and realised that, before this moment, your bodies had never been so close.

Your legs were curled around his hips, pelvis pressed firmly against his. The position of his hands, which were keeping you afloat, was bordering on inappropriate but would only be deemed as such if you cared. Which you didn't. You liked it—having his hands on you.

One thing you couldn't ignore was the flickering of his gaze. How his eyes kept dropping to your lips. How they blatantly revealed a long-awaited confession that words just couldn't capture. Still, you wanted to hear him say it. You wanted to hear the purr in his voice as he told you.

Then he was leaning in. You weren't sure whether it was on purpose or if the pure magnetism of the tension between you was drawing him closer. Regardless, you started to lean in closer too, eyes drooping as you focused on his mouth.

And before the short distance between your lips and his became immeasurable, you whispered, "Tell me, Finn."

The hands keeping you afloat trailed up and down your back restlessly as Finnick forced a tense exhale through his nose. He seemed to be wrestling with thoughts. You waited in anticipation, and right when it seemed like he was going to make a move—

"I think..."

—you were interrupted. By no less than a pod of dolphins as they leapt from the water, causing you and Finnick to jolt from each other's embrace.

The rest of that evening was not worth mentioning. Not because you had forgotten what happened, but because the sheer awkwardness between you and Finnick afterwards was so torturous that you wanted to keep the memory squashed in the recesses of your mind. Neither of you acknowledged what happened. Finnick still walked you home, but it was done so in agonising silence.

Surprisingly, you both returned to the beach the next day. You hadn't expected him to be his usual upbeat self, but he was. So, in turn, you too acted like the previous day was erased from history. But your friendship with him was never the same.

Flirty conversations no longer felt like a joke; they now had a deeper meaning. Fleeting touches caused full-body goosebumps that didn't happen before. There was so much unresolved tension, and it was painfully thick. Inescapable.

So, as Finnick sat beside you present-day, weaving dried palm leaves into the mat beneath your bodies, you couldn't help but notice the transparency of your body language and his. The gap between you both was comparable to the size of a pearl and even though neither of you acknowledged it, you kept catching each other stealing quick glances every half-minute or so.

When you were sure he wasn't looking, you found your gaze drawn to his fingers. They were sturdy, yet nimble; curling and manoeuvring in ways that had your face feeling hotter than the heat of any sunburn or warm summer's day. This heat was beneath your skin. Spreading through your limbs in little tendrils and wrapping around your nerves. A dip in the salty sea wouldn't cool you down nor would a gulp of cold fresh water.

As you stared at his hands, you knew only the source of the sensation could offer reprieve. But that wouldn't happen, so there you burned.

The fact that he was shirtless and that his hair was a gorgeous mess of damp bronze curls helped not one bit with taming the consuming desire inside you. God, you were a mess yourself.

You sighed.

The sun, glowing intensely with a divine orange, was beginning its descent on the horizon. Your feet were buried beneath the soft sand, trying to retain some warmth as a slight breeze blew against your exposed skin.

Wearing a short sundress probably wasn't the most practical idea. Embarrassing as it was to admit, practicality wasn't what was going through your mind when you decided to wear it... Someone—Something else was.

"Something on your mind?" Finnick asked suddenly.

Your heart fumbled in your chest, terrified that he had somehow heard your thoughts. "Sorry?"

"You sighed," he said, turning his head to look at you. "Or am I just getting so old that I'm already starting to hear things?"

With relief of his lack of mind-reading abilities, you laughed softly. "You're definitely getting a bit old, Finn," you teased. "Any nursing homes you've been considering?"

"I heard retirement by the sea has its perks," he quipped, subtle dimples present as he returned to his weaving. "Although, I will need someone to make sure I don't fall asleep while swimming and get carried out by the tide. What d'you say, sweetheart? Up for becoming my personal lifeguard?"

Absolutely. "Depends. Will you force me to wear one of those awful flowery swimming caps with a matching tankini?"

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I'm thinking more like those little red bodysuits. You know, the ones that zip open down the front?"

You reprimanded him by pushing his shoulder, wearing a betraying smile. "Very charming."

"I just think red's your colour, that's all," he laughed.

Your stomach fluttered. You knew he was teasing you; teasing was basically the foundation of your... friendship. Deep down, you knew there was also some truth behind his words. A truth that was as electrifying as it was upsetting—how long were you both going to keep up with this whole 'friends' charade? Could you handle it if the answer was forever?

Best not to think about it. For your sanity's sake.

Finnick finally settled into a comfortable position with his forearms locked around his bent knees, apparently having decided to continue his mat-weaving another time. He had been extending it bit by bit ever since he first made it for you. At this point, you were sure he was attempting to cover the entire beach. For now, it was only big enough for two people to lie down on.

Sounds pretty convenient, came an abrupt thought.

And then you fell down yet another rabbit hole of depraved daydreams... A pair of hands interlocking your own above your head. Hot lips pressing kisses to your neck. Tongue gliding up the sensitive skin of your jugular. Your fingers tugging at bronze curls between your thighs.

You were sick. Diseased with immorality. Finnick was your friend. If not your best friend. You're not supposed to fantasise about fucking your best friend.

"Thinking about anyone in particular?"

You almost choked on your saliva. "W—What?" 

How did he keep doing that?

Finnick seemed to find joy in your perplexity. It was written all over his face. God, those fucking dimples. "You've been completely still for nearly five minutes and your legs are covered in goosebumps," he pointed out. "Hence the question: who are you thinking about?"

As you looked down, you found that your skin was in fact riddled with goosebumps. It didn't occur to you then that the only reason he could have noticed was if he was staring at your legs in the first place. It also didn't occur to you that Finnick obviously had the very same debauched thoughts running through his own mind.

Why did you have to wear such a revealing dress? He already struggled enough with resisting you at the best of times.

If you had been paying attention, a simple glance in his direction would have revealed how his ears were pink and his pupils were dilated. More importantly, you would have seen his legs constantly shifting to ease the discomfort tenting his pants. Fortunately, he had mastered the art of winding himself down in a short amount of time.

Unfortunately for you, that ability was not within your skill set.

You scoffed. "In case you haven't noticed, Finnick—it's autumn," you said, a quick snappy lilt in your tone. "I know you've got some weird internal space heater built into you, but normal people tend to have a reaction to the cold."

Well, it's a good thing you didn't sound defensive...

Finnick raised an eyebrow at you, displaying a puzzled half-smirk that spoke a thousand words.

You lowered your head in embarrassment, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry," you murmured. "I just, uh, don't really like the cold."

"Who could've guessed."

Despite serving as an excuse, it wasn't entirely untrue. You really did dislike the cold. And it was now that you seriously regretted your choice of sparse attire. The breeze kept blowing up the dress's skirt, threatening to expose your dignity to the world. Or more accurately, to Finnick. Thankfully, you had decided to wear a pair of delicate lace underwear that morning instead of old granny panties.

Nevertheless, now that it was on your mind, you couldn't think about anything but the cold gusts of wind blowing against you. Chills ran over your skin and you were shaking like a leaf.

Finnick, being the gentleman that he was, scanned the surrounding area for anything he could use to keep you warm. He would've given you his shirt had it not been crumpled in a ball of wet sand on the ground.

There was nothing else of use. Nothing except a single apprehensive idea sitting in the forefront of his mind. It was all he had. He bit the inside of his cheek as he contemplated the potentially disastrous idea.

Then, after taking a silent deep breath, he finally said, "Come here then." Your eyes snapped to his. You must've looked like you had seen a ghost because his brows knitted together in confusion. "What?" he breathed out a chuckle. "I'd prefer not having to carry you home as a block of ice."

You thought about it for a moment. Was it really such a good idea after the thoughts that were just swarming in your mind? Another gust of wind blew by and you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself.

"I won't bite, sweetheart. Not unless you want me to," he added.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, shut up."

With that, you slid across the mat, positioning your body, which was still facing the sunset, in front of his legs. There was a moment of hesitation. Anxiety. But before you could reconsider, Finnick wrapped a strong arm around your middle and pulled you back against his chest, situating your body between his legs.

The exhale that left your lips was instantaneous and you couldn't help but shudder at the warmth of his skin. "God," you sighed, overwhelmed by the sudden change in temperature. "How are you so warm all the time?"

"Oh, you know. Weird internal space heater."

You laughed softly, then felt Finnick's chest vibrate against your back as he joined you. His bare arms wound tighter around you, motivated by the affectionate atmosphere. Your body seemed to melt into the cocoon of warmth he provided, and a soft smile graced your lips.

"Better?" he asked.

You nodded, responding with a whisper, "Thank you."

"Anytime."

You could hear the smile in his voice and how intently he was trying to hide it. You wished you could have seen it. To see the sense of peace you shared. However, feeling it in the way he held you was enough.

Instead of blood, your heart now seemed to be pumping out rather odd alternatives—waves of sea-green salted ocean, iridescent seashells, smiles paired with heart-stopping dimples. How could he? How could Finnick condemn you to loving him like this? So unwaveringly; so without a hope of ever being able to return to life without him in it.

He made a mess of you. A ruin. And even with wholesome affection running through your veins, you still couldn't ignore the hazy images conjuring in your mind from the way his body was pressed firmly behind you.

How could he?

The sun had just touched the horizon, granting the sky a few more minutes of light, meaning it was almost time to head home—an upsetting reality. You weren't sure how much time had passed before your body started to ache from lack of movement.

You wiggled your toes which were buzzing like television static. The feeling started moving up your legs and you knew if you didn't stretch, you would later embarrass yourself trying to stand on dead legs. So that is what you did. You started moving.

First, you stretched out the muscles in your legs and then moved onto straightening your back against Finnick's chest, feeling the faint pops of your spine offer you relief. And then you started readjusting your position and wriggling your hips to fit more comfortably between Finnick's toned thighs. That was your first mistake.

"Stop moving."

You were taken aback by the rigid inflection in his tone. "What?" you asked, ignoring his warning and continuing your restless movements.

"Stop. Moving," Finnick repeated, sounding more strained.

His hold on you became stiff. Completely frozen.

You were confused. Everything was perfect a moment ago, and all you were doing was stretching—why was he being so weird and snappy?

In response, you exhaled sharply. "I'm just trying to get comf—"

"Fuck," he breathed out.

Your eyes widened and it was safe to say your stomach had flipped inside out.

That was the moment you finally realised your second mistake. The rigidness in his voice wasn't him being snappy with you at all. Not even close. He was just trying to prevent the pleasure he felt below from reaching his vocal cords.

But it was too late. It wouldn't have mattered if he managed to keep quiet because you could feel it now. The achingly hard length that was pressed against your backside, reaching all the way up to your tailbone.

"...Oh," you whispered.

"Yeah," Finnick said. "Oh."

Now it was your turn to freeze. Fear consumed you, similar to what you imagined having to remain motionless in front of tyrannosaurus rex to prevent from being eaten alive was like. Thanks to the damning wind, strands of your hair blew behind your shoulders, undoubtedly tickling the exposed skin of Finnick's chest. Even that minuscule movement had your heart threatening to explode with anxiety.

As per usual, panic wreaked havoc in your mind.

What do I do? Do I get up? How will we come back from this? Does he—

Finnick cleared his throat. "Uh, you still alive in there?" he chuckled nervously.

You felt minor relief enter your bloodstream upon hearing the normality in his voice. At least one of you was composed enough to act normally. Well, as normal as one could act after becoming hard due to their best friend sitting in their lap.

"Is it—" You swallowed the nerves rattling your voice "—is it because there's a girl sitting on your lap, or is it because it's me?"

That was the million-dollar question. Was his reaction simply biological? A natural response to stimulation? Or was it deeper than that? More personal.

Finnick was silent.

The rapid thumping in your chest moved to your ears, like a drumroll leading up to some grand reveal. You felt dizzy; both filled with dreadful anticipation and exhilaration. Your senses were so heightened, fuelled by an inane bout of adrenaline. You swore you could almost hear the gears turning in Finnick's mind, smell the smoke as they rotated over and over, trying to make sense of your question and form a suitable response.

Religion never played a factor in your life, but, oh, how you were zealously praying his answer would be the one you spent all your nights fantasising about. But still, he was silent.

And right when you believed he wasn't going to respond at all, his lips finally uttered that single life-changing word. "You."

Fireworks seemed to light up every nerve in your body. You.

You weren't sure what to make of your thoughts at first. The overwhelming abundance of emotion caused by a singular word was difficult to fathom. Only one sentiment stood out from the rest—and that was the fact that Finnick felt the same as you did for him.

It was no longer a speculation. It was a fact. A truth. An undeniable reality. You had both verbal and physicalproof, literally digging into your backside.

Finnick slowly, very slowly, unwound an arm from your torso, and you held your breath. His hand slid across your waist and then plastered itself over your hipbone, careful not to apply too much pressure to make you feel uncomfortable. When you felt the slight movement of his thumb gliding across your clothed skin, you exhaled the burning air in your lungs with a shaky sigh.

"Do you want me to get up?" you asked softly while staring at the sunset, although you were focused on anything but.

"Not a chance." And then he unwound the other arm, now cupping both sides of your hips with two large hands. The heat from his palm sank into your skin, sinking deeper layer by layer until it reached the rapid flow of your bloodstream. "Do you want to get up?"

You felt a pulsing sensation between your thighs that had your parted lips inhaling slow deep breaths, and you knew the only logical answer was no. So, you shook your head.

Finnick reached up to skilfully tuck a lock of hair behind your ear before placing his hand back on your hip. He then leaned down beside your ear, voice a hot, velvety whisper, "What next then, sweetheart?"

A wave of chills ran down your entire body.

What next? Another question for the ages. You had dreamt of this moment a million times over. You had pictured the unholiest, most vivid of scenarios, and yet here you were, mind blank as an empty void.

Then it hit you. Rather than acting from a pre-planned script, wouldn't it be better to just let your body act on what it naturally desired? On instinct? You took in a deep, stabilising breath and gave yourself into moment.

You slowly began turning your head to the side until, for the first time since he pulled you into his arms, your eyes flickered up and found Finnick's. His lips quirked with the ghost of a smile at the exchange, but he held it back. His jaw clenched and unclenched, muscles ticking with tension.

He was looking at you in a way you had never seen before. Or perhaps, you were just never close enough to notice, and he had always looked at you this way. There was a blazing intensity in his eyes, dark and penetrative, a bridge between yearning and total reverence. It was so enticing that you could feel your hands itching to undress yourself in front of him.

Finnick murmured your name.

"Yes?" you managed to whisper.

"Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?"

Those words—he had stolen them from the tip of your tongue.

You couldn't find the strength to muster any profound response. So instead, you found your head tilting back and the crook of your elbow winding up and around the nape of his neck. You didn't need to guide him down; he came willingly.

His lips caught yours in a soft, warm exchange. Singular yet prolonged. Then there was a brief pause of disconnection, a calm before the storm. And with Finnick, when it rained, it poured. Suddenly, a hand was cupping the area where your jaw and neck connected, and his lips were on yours again.

There was so much more heat in this kiss. A depth that kept growing with each connection of your lips. You could hear the fervour in the breathless exhales that exited his nose, the quiet groans that slipped into your mouth. Though the same could be said for you.

You couldn't subdue the moans and meek whimpers that leaked out. Especially when his tongue slipped into your mouth and took control over your own. At this point, you couldn't even be called putty in his arms; you were pure liquid, totally and completely submissive in his embrace.

It was impossible to tell who was throbbing beneath you anymore. All you were sure of was that the pretty lace panties you had put on that morning were now soaked. Though even if he never touched you, you wouldn't have cared. Having his lips on yours, his tongue on yours, was enough. And if he kept at it long enough, you were sure it would even be enough to get you off. That's how much power Finnick had over you.

Apparently, he felt the same too. Because when you leaned further back into him and your ass pushed against the length of his erection, his fist scrunched the fabric of your dress by your hip and his lips left yours to let out a shuddering breath.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he huffed, half chuckling.

Technically, it was a suppressed moan. Either way, you swear you almost came then and there.

With one last gentle kiss, you opened your eyes, pulling away to replenish your lungs with air. Finnick's eyes were already locked on yours in a drunken haze from the taste of your lips. Your arm unwound from his neck, grazing down his broad shoulders and bicep. During so, your eyes caught on the tiny bumps and raised hair scattered across his arm.

"You've got goosebumps," you smiled, trailing your fingertips across his skin.

His gaze moved to follow your hand, wearing a boyish grin. "Would you believe me if I said I was cold?"

Your throat buzzed with a suppressed giggle. Seeing the way his body reacted to yours was incredibly motivating. Someone telling you they lusted after you could easily be spoken with deception. But having visual confirmation, witnessing a reaction that couldn't possibly be forced, was a whole different story. Finnick's body craved you.

Given that incentive, the slight trepidation still holding you back now disappeared into the back of your mind. Your fingers curled around his wrist, dragging the hand beneath your jaw down to your neck, and then down to your chest. It didn't take him too long to figure out your intentions. He overtook your influence and autonomously moved his hand to cup your breast.

You were essentially caged in his embrace. Exactly how you wanted it.

You stared ahead with relaxed eyes, watching as the sun slipped into the dark water. Night had officially blanketed District Four and, now being shielded by darkness, the stars were your only witness. Strangely enough, you felt a new sense of shamelessness.

So as Finnick kneaded your breast in his warm hand and pinched the sensitive peak of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger through the lace of your bra, you allowed a soft moan to escape your lips.

It was almost as if you could actually feel the smirk growing across Finnick's lips behind you. One thing you actually could feel was the twitch of his achingly hard cock beneath you.

"You like that?" he asked, definitely smirking.

"Yes," you sighed almost immediately.

If only he knew how truly euphoric you felt. If only he knew how many times you had imagined being in this exact situation. Having him touching you like this. The guilt of imagining him in such a way used to eat you up. But now that you were past the guilt, there was no shame connected to the thought of Finnick eating you up.

Fuck, he would look so perfect between your thighs—bronze curls all messed up from your pulling and tugging; sea green eyes squeezed shut as he dedicated his attention to dragging you down to the pits of hell with his tongue.

Your head fell back against his collarbone. He took this as a signal to move your hair aside and start planting hot kisses onto the curve of your shoulder. Then he trailed further across, brushing his lips across your skin until he reached the side of your neck and started sucking gently, though enough to leave behind pretty little red marks of possession.

"What about this?" he murmured against the delicate skin.

The faint taste of sea-salted air sat in the back of your throat as your breaths deepened. You felt his tongue glide partially up the length of your carotid artery, and your entire nervous system seemed to short-circuit.

"Yes,"you practically whined.

He must have found this amusing because you could feel the vibrations of his chuckle against your neck. But he wasn't finished yet. Hell, the finish line was a lifetime away regarding the things he planned on doing to you. They probably couldn't all be done in one night though, unfortunately.

You had completely forgotten about the hand still splayed on your hip. Why would you pay it any attention when it was sitting idle? Only it wasn't simply resting on your hip anymore. No. Now it was moving. Moving down.

His lips were still on your neck and he was still cupping your breast, but all you could focus on was the carnal descent of his hand. He found the hem of your dress, fingers toying with the flimsy material as one did when deciding whether or not to go through with something potentially consequential. Ultimately, he began to drag the fabric up your thighs, knuckles grazing over your soft skin until the skirt of your dress was ruched around your hips.

You sucked in a sharp breath. The vulnerability of suddenly being exposed in such a manner hit you like a tonne of bricks. This was really happening. Finnick, the Capitol's darling, District Four's golden boy, and more significant;y, your best friend, was touching you. He was kissing you. He was seeing and feeling parts of your body you had never let him see or feel before.

Naturally, this unfurling web of thoughts produced a surge of insecurity.

But, when his hand curled around your inner thigh and spread a wildfire of warmth across your skin, every thought that was previously passing through your mind disintegrated and was replaced with unadulterated yearning.

Finnick's mouth finally detached from your neck to hover beside your ear. "And this?"

He lightly kneaded your thigh to emphasise his question, dangerously close to the place that undoubtedly crossed the boundary between friend and lover.

You were speechless. The desire running through your veins was paralysing. All you could do was look, see, feel, and hope to god you didn't pass out from the shallowness of your breathing.

"Come on, sweetheart," he roused in that low, seductive purr. "Don't go quiet on me now. Use your words."

And how could you ever disobey a voice like that? It took every ounce of strength and concentration you had in you, but eventually, you managed to find your voice.

"I—" You cut yourself off with a gasp as his thumb purposefully wandered up to the edge of your underwear. Asshole. "I lie awake every night imagining us like this, Finn. You don't need permission to touch me. You've already had it for months."

Suddenly, a gentle finger was turning your chin, compelling you to meet Finnick's gaze. His eyes lacked the intensity from before and were now brimming with awe, brows knitted as if he was asking for confirmation if what you had said was truthful. And it was, painfully so.

To answer his wordless question, you leaned forward and connected your lips with his. He responded with ardency, and not long after, you could feel his hand wander up to the waistband of your panties. 

He wasted not a second before dipping his hand beneath the lace material and finding that sensitive spot that had been begging for his attention.

Your lips separated from his to let out a breathy moan. "Finnick."

He simply smiled, two fingers rubbing circles around your clit. He pressed gentle coaxing kisses to your lips, and you really did try to respond, but you were never one for multitasking. Especially when the man you had fallen in love with was touching you so.

His other hand wandered across your torso, holding your waist, grazing over your stomach, tracing the length of your sternum. All very loving adorations compared to what his other hand was doing.

"I think I'm going to hell because of you," he murmured, millimetres away from your lips. Such a disconcerting thing for someone to admit, but all you could manage was a hum in response. "Every time I see you, I can feel myself getting closer and closer. You derange my thoughts, sweetheart. You corrupt them.

How am I supposed to be around you if I want to fuck you every time you say my name? And what makes it so much more impossible is that you don't even mean to make me feel this way; you just do. God, you're maddening. So sweet and maddening," he cooed, fingers picking up in pace which caused you to melt back into his chest and let out a pretty little moan. "Drives me crazy."

"And to think," you managed, "I thought you had your hands between my legs because you hated me."

Your hips were rolling lightly along with the rhythm of his fingers.

At the very same time Finnick's thighs tensed around your hips from the friction against his cock, he abruptly plunged two fingers inside you. Punishment.

The moan you let out was positively filthy.

"Such an attitude you have," he said. "Anyone would think you're completely innocent in a dress like this. But I know better than that." His fingers slid in and out, curling every time the base of his fingers bottomed out inside of you. "I know exactly why you wore it. Just like I know exactly why you wore those lace panties you pretend that I can't see whenever you bend over."

Heat crept up into your cheeks from hearing his words. You wanted to provoke him by saying 'And look where it got me'but who knew how his fingers would respond to your attitude.

"You can't do that to a man," he continued. "It's criminal."

"It's only fair, Finn," you breathed out, struggling to keep your voice level. "You ruined me."

A deep moan rumbled in his chest, though it never escaped. He couldn't break that easily. He needed to remain in control. This moment, to him, seemed like an eternity forthcoming. He needed to make the most of this moment with you, needed to show you what it was like to receive earth-shattering pleasure so that you only ever wanted to receive it from him. No one else.

Despite his obvious attempts at keeping himself in check, you could still feel his thick impatient cock twitch beneath your ass. Even through the layers of clothing between you, you could tell that he was incredibly big. So much so that it worried you a little. Only, when his fingers curled again, you forgot all about it.

The pads of his fingertips buried into your inner walls with every curl. The heel of his palm struck your clit with every thrust of his fingers and you could feel your stomach start tightening. Fuck, he was amazing at this.

It had been so long since someone had touched you like this. Well, someone that was actually good at it. Just a few minutes and Finnick was already about to make you come.

"Feels so good, so—ah—good!" you moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

He reached a free hand up to your breast, lightly pinching your nipple between his fingers until you let out a gasp. At least one of you was good at multitasking.

"You gonna come?" he asked, not that he even needed an answer. He could feel the way your walls were contracting around his fingers, feel the sticky warmth of your slick leaking onto his knuckles.

You nodded fervently.

"Say please first."

"Finn," you whined in frustration.

You could hear him chuckle self-satisfyingly behind you. "Come on, baby. Sweet girls are supposed to have manners, aren't they?"

His low, husky voice almost threw you over the edge. Oh, how you would love to listen to the sound of him talking you through your orgasm. That is if he ever even let you get to that point.

Never had you ever thought you would be pleading with a man for anything, yet here you were. Though, Finnick Odair could hardly be called a man. He was so much more than that; he was bordering on divinity. And you weren't going to miss the chance of being unravelled at the hands of a divine being.

"Please, Finnick," you begged, your body literally buzzing with desperation. "Please make me come."

He pressed a kiss below your earlobe. "Since you asked so nicely."

His fingers picked up in pace. They weren't even plunging in and out anymore but were rather curling, over and over again in that electrifying spot inside you. He went hard and fast, working to bring you to your high as quickly as possible. Your moans were so unrestrained, so breathless and shallow that you started to feel the world spin around you.

Your hand flew back to hold onto his arm, nails digging into the hard muscles of his bicep. Your hips were writhing in Finnick's lap and you could hear him groan out a string of curses. He held you down by the hip to try and keep you still, then moved across to the bottom of your abdomen where he pressed down.

That is what did it for you.

You cried out as tightness spread down your stomach and pure ecstasy took control. Finnick murmured words of praise and reassurance as you rode through your high, though a lot of it didn't register in your mind. You heard only a few bits and pieces which were enough to prolong the feeling that was overwhelming your entire body.

"Taking it so well."

"That's it, sweetheart. That's it."

"Such a good girl."

As the waves of pleasure slowly began to subside, you returned to reality. The heat that had been building up inside you started melting away, leaving you in a state of relaxation. Your fingers, which previously clung onto Finnick's arm, now grazed absentmindedly across his skin. It felt like you had been sucked into a dream—a little hazy and surreal, but incredibly tranquil.

"You okay?" Finnick asked softly.

You hadn't even noticed that his fingers had left your body. He had pulled down the hem of your dress— not that your dignity really needed saving anymore—and was holding your melted figure in his arms.

"Mm," you hummed contently, eyes fixed on the view in front of you. "Warmed up."

If only you were able to see his face, his smile. Those dimples. A powerful longing to be able to see every expression known to man morph his facial features washed over you. It was a little ridiculous how attracted to him you were. Nonetheless, you indulged the desire.

You pushed yourself from his lap and pivoted to face him

You were straddling his lap before any ounce of hesitation could hold you back. Finnick circled his arms around your waist, pulling you closer into his chest. He was smiling. He was smiling and it was even more beautiful than any sunset you had ever witnessed. You concluded that you had definitely made the right choice in deciding to face him.

"Hi," you whispered.

He smiled. "Hey, stranger."

He brushed back a few pieces of hair from your face, observing the blown size of your pupils and the sultry colour of your lips. He did that—he could not get over the fact that he did that to you. Finally.

You shrunk away from his gaze, a timid smile on your lips.

Finnick tilted his head slightly. "Shy thing."

You buried your face into the side of his neck, groaning quietly in embarrassment. You could hear the perfect sound of him laughing above you. He stroked the length of your spine, somehow managing to ease the nerves from your body with a simple touch. You left a quick kiss on the warm skin of his neck and rose back up to meet his gaze.

"Feeling better?"

"Much," you replied, sheepishly. Your eyes flickered across Finnick's, hesitated, and then gestured downwards. "But... you're not." His head tilted as though he were confused as to what you were suggesting, so you leaned in closer until your lips ghosted over his. "Still need to take care of you."

A breath of warm air fanned across your face as he chuckled. He shook his head. "It's alright. I can hold off for another time."

And although the prospect of doing this again another time was downright exhilarating, you couldn't ignore the palpable heat still lingering in your lower stomach, throbbing between your thighs. You could only imagine how he must have been feeling—cock throbbing with a need for relief, though ready to deny himself the same amount of pleasure he just gave you.

You suddenly curled a hand around the back of his neck and brought him into a slow kiss. To show him he was allowed to indulge himself. That you wanted him to. You ground your hips down on his lap and felt his lips falter against yours.

You pulled back and echoed your previous words, "It's only fair, Finn."

Time seemed to pause for a moment. Your breath and his mixed with one another in a sort of hot whirlwind of anticipation. Your bodies were still. Finnick's eyes were half-lidded staring at your mouth.

Then came the explosion.

His hands were hastily tugging your sundress over your head; his lips were on yours as he reached down between your bodies to unbutton his pants. It felt like a race against time. Like if you didn't do this now, the chance would never come by again. Hell, his pants hadn't even made it off his legs before he was holding himself in his hand and you were rising to your knees, positioning yourself directly above his length.

Your lips never left his, strenuous as it was, meaning the only gauge you got of how big he was wasn't from seeing it, but from feeling it as you pulled your panties aside, guided his cock to your entrance with one hand, and felt the entire veiny length of him fill you completely as you lowered yourself onto him.

A quiet, synchronised gasp left both your lips as you enveloped him completely in wet velvety warmth. His pelvis was connected with yours and his cock was pressed right up against your cervix. So incredibly deep, you could almost feel him in your stomach.

You stayed like this for a few seconds.

"So big," you gasped against his lips.

His hands were on your back, dragging up and down. "Want to stop?"

"Never."

This was so not what friends did.

He trailed kisses from your mouth, to your jaw, and down to your neck. You were grinding sinuously back and forth, Finnick's hands now on your hips as a guide, feeling his tip bury into the sensitive walls inside you. Your head fell back with a gratified moan as he nipped your neck unforgivingly, only to soothe the spots he marked with the glide of his tongue.

At that moment, the past and future were of no significance. The idea that doing this might ruin your relationship with him afterwards didn't concern you. You didn't bother recollecting a time when you and Finnick were merely friends, nor did you ponder how you even managed to reach this point.

All you could focus on was how fucking perfect his cock felt inside of you.

The cold, which was previously a nuisance, now served as a stimulant to your nipples which were only covered by the thin unpadded material of your lace bra. They were bouncing with every movement you made, the hard peaks rubbing against Finnick's chest and creating a triangle of pleasure between them and the depravity that was happening further below.

He was so hungry in the way he kissed you. His lips were soft, but they moved with heat and determination. His tongue was supple as it pushed against yours, moving masterfully in a way you could only compare to how he swam in the ocean. A conqueror—able to bring you into submission with ease.

You pushed yourself upwards, the muscles in your thighs slightly burning as you did so, and felt his cock glide through you. He inhaled harshly through his nose when his tip almost left your wet heat, and then groaned into your mouth when your hips sunk back down, engulfing him once again.

"Shit," he almost whined as your walls clenched around him. "I fuckinglove you."

You pulled away to look him in the eyes. It was incredibly difficult for you to contemplate his words—his confession—when he was, what, eight or so inches deep inside you?

He didn't look like he regretted saying it. He was simply staring at you with raised brows pinched together in pleasure, awaiting your response as you continued your sequence of rising and sinking to fill yourself up with his cock.

"You love me?" you asked in a laboured breath. He only nodded in response. You sank fully down onto his lap, discontinuing your movements, willing him to prove his so-declared devotion. "Then show me."

He was breathing heavily and watching you through strands of sea-salted hair messily splayed across his forehead. He was so beautiful it actually kind of hurt to look at him. His eyes fell to your mouth during this brief amnesty, a decision prominent in his mind. Then he was rushing forward, crushing his lips to yours and forcing your body to lay back on the mat beneath you.

Finnick somehow managed to remain inside you as he switched your positions—him now above you as your legs were wrapped around his waist. His body pinned you down with a comfortable weight, skin warm and flush against yours.

He was overpowering and dominating, and his thrusts were laced with a sense of appropriation like he was making you his. The slow grinds of his hips were hard yet measured and so breathtakingly deep, and the gentle upwards curve of his cock made sure his tip was prodding against that swollen pleasure-inducing spot every single time.

His kisses were sensual and slow; his tongue slipping languidly into your mouth, swirling and massaging your tongue like it was made of pure silk.

You had told him what to do—now he was showing you. Finnick Odair wasn't fucking you. He was making love to you.

Your hands were on his back, fingertips leaving red marks on the curves of his shoulder blades. You moved up to his hair, scratching your nails softly into his scalp, which earned you a soft moan in your mouth. Even you could feel yourself pulsing around his cock. Everything he did, every sound and action he made, had your body yielding to him.

His hand pulled you up into him by the waist, arching your back off the palm-leaf mat so that he was thrusting more profoundly into that blissful spot inside you. He never sped up his pace. He didn't need to. He was savouring the moment as much as he could, memorising each warm ripple of your walls his cock glided over inside you, every intoxicating moan your soft lips released, the pressure of your warm supple thighs hugging his waist.

He was committing every aspect of you to memory. Inside and out.

Having that knowledge only made the moment so much more pleasurable. Knowing that he wasn't just thinking about you with his cock, but was thinking about you with his heart too.

That feeling started creeping up inside you—the blissful burn of heat pooling in your lower stomach. It made your walls flutter around him. Made you whine and moan uncontrollably into his mouth until you couldn't focus on kissing him anymore and had to pull away.

Your head fell back onto the mat, hair strewn out around you. The sounds coming out of you were pure sin. Desperate, greedy sin.

Finnick chuckled adoringly above you. "Too fucked out, sweetheart?"

He couldn't exactly talk. The second you clenched around him again, he groaned out a curse and you—the parts of your mind that were still relatively comprehensible—were sure you could feel the warmth of pre-cum ooze inside you.

"Finnick," you mewled, and he caressed the baby hairs framing your face. "Feels so good. Should—should've done this sooner."

Through your half-lidded eyes, you watched as he nodded and then descended to your forehead, pressing his lips tenderly against your skin. I know, the gesture said. You felt a rush of affection flood through your body, ultimately accelerating the build-up happening inside you.

You could feel yourself teetering so impossibly close to the brink of your orgasm. The tightness inside you was so hot and overwhelming; it was a struggle for you to keep your eyes from fluttering shut and rolling back, though you willed yourself to keep them open. You had to.

Watching Finnick's face contort with pleasure as he's thrown into his own high from feeling your walls contract around him would probably be the highlight of your entire life.

"So beautiful," he cooed as he thrusted into you. "My sweet girl's gonna come, isn't she? Can feel it."

The words flew out of your mouth. "Come inside me."

"Come inside you?"

You were pretty sure he was mocking you from the devilish curve of his lips and furrow of his brows. But your lust-drunk brain didn't really care.

"Please. Wanna feel you—" Your chest heaved with each breath "—everywhere."

Finnick was so obviously trying to keep himself from giving in before you. But you could see how delirious his eyes were as they stared down at you and you heard how every low, gratified—frustratingly sexy—sound he made betrayed him. He was so close.

"Anything for you, sweetheart," he said, finally.

He managed to unhook your hands from around his back and guided them upwards, holding your wrists together above your head with one hand before he brought his other back to your waist. It was oddly romantic how he held you, given that he was fucking you like life after that night wasn't guaranteed.

And then, without warning, he was pounding into you, bottoming out completely with each thrust.

It was almost animalistic now—how you were both unable to control yourselves anymore. You were writhing beneath him, impulsively fighting against the grip he had on your wrists. And Finnick, well, he was fucking you so hard, you weren't sure if walking home that night would be a possibility.

He was a disaster of pleasured vocals, deep moans, and heavy breaths. You thanked the absolute heavens he was because it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard in your entire life.

When your own moans started to rise in pitch, you knew you were done for. You felt so full. Stretched out to the max. Blinded by the heat that was drowning you. But your eyes managed to remain clear and locked on Finnick's the entire time, just as his were on yours.

With a fleeting glance downward, he once again placed a large hand over your abdomen and pushed down, and your back arched off the ground.

You were gone.

"Oh fuck!"

The heat, white and fiery, had consumed you. Your thighs tensed uncontrollably around Finnick, your body shaking beneath him as your insides pulsed all the way down to your stuffed entrance. White, sticky sweetness covered Finnick's cock as he continued to thrust into you, the wet sounds overpowering the waves cresting on the sands. It felt like fucking heaven.

He let out a moan, broken and breathless, and released the grip he had on your hands. In that short moment, you instantly gripped onto him, feeling his body shudder beneath your hands as his throbbing cock spurted out ropes of warmth deep inside you, the essence of both of you mixing inside your body, making you one.

You pulled him down and crushed your lips to his with a sudden intense urge to be as close to him as you could, if it were even possible to be any closer to him at that point. It felt a little spiritual, the way you practically wanted to merge your body with his. That's what having sex with someone you truly loved was like, you supposed.

The kiss was sloppy and messy, but it never lacked heat or affection. Lacking heat was impossible between you and Finnick.

A lot of time passed before either of you even contemplated pulling away from one another. Finnick was inside you for what must have been a good half hour after you had both finished. It felt close. Deeply intimate. He held you in his arms, his hands mapping out various parts of your body with unhurried measure as you lay beneath him, lazily yet affectionately making out with warm, reddened lips.

There were quiet giggles and heated words whispered between you that would have prompted another session had either of you been graced with the energy.

But it was late. The remnants of the sun had long since disappeared beneath the horizon, dimming the sky to a deep dark blue, the world's only source of illumination being the stars casting their sparkling light on the rippling water.

It was a new moon.

Eventually, you ended up laying over his chest, legs strewn across his as you both faced the ocean. Your head rose and fell with each breath Finnick took and it felt unreal. 

You were momentarily worried your infatuation with him had grown too out of hand and you had imagined the whole day, or perhaps, the entire time you had known him. That it was all a figment of your vivid imagination.

Then, his warm hand slid into your own, which was draped across his stomach, and you knew that this, the newfound relationship between you and Finnick, was undeniably and rapturously real.

He slowly lifted them together above your bodies, palms flat against one another. There was a notable size difference between them—his palm was large and calloused with long fingers that squared off at the tips, meanwhile, your own fist could probably fit into his palm.

Your fingers danced delicately together as you both watched from below. He traced the length of your fingers with his fingertips; followed the etches in your palm, and turned your hand to explore the protrusions of your knuckles. There was a certain gentle curiosity in his touch, similar to that of someone who was discovering the act of human connection for the first time.

"I don't know if I can walk home," you whispered.

Finnick lowered your interlocked hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles before placing them back on his stomach. "I'll carry you."

"For an entire hour?"

"I'll manage," he said, "I've got muscles."

You scoffed quietly to yourself, smiling. "Ok, big strong man."

"Says the girl who needs to be carried home."

"Well, you are kind of the one to blame for that."

You tilted your head to glance up at him and found exactly what you were expecting to see. He was wearing a proud grin, all apple cheeks and crinkled eyes. It was something you had come to adore, even though sometimes it was out of arrogance.

Your head turned to rest back on his chest. You watched as his thumb caressed slow circles over your knuckle.

"What you said before," you began, "is it true? Do you really... love me?"

The heart beating beneath your ear genuinely sounded like it skipped a beat. You imagined that was a good sign, though your nerves were still a little frayed. What if he had only said it because of the heat of the moment?

A beat went by. "I've been trying to tell you ever since I first wove the mat for you," he confessed, his voice quiet yet holding the weight of the history that made up your friendship.

There it was—the truth laid bare. Despite hearing the words, it didn't really change anything. You suspected deep down you knew the entire time; you were just too self-doubting to accept it. To accept that Finnick Odair, the crown jewel of Panem, had fallen in love with you, an ordinary girl from District Four who just so happened to meet him at a secret beach.

Although, there was a sensation you remember upon first meeting him. That instinct that had told you to stay instead of running away, as any logical human being would do upon being approached by a stranger in the middle of nowhere. That instinct, despite sounding utterly ridiculous, caused you to believe that perhaps it was fate.

Maybe you were destined to meet. Maybe it didn't matter that he was a nationwide celebrity, nor you a simple town girl. Maybe your souls were entwined from the start and, one way or another, you would have met anyway.

Maybe.

"That's a long time," you said.

He laughed. "Yeah, well, I thought you would've gotten the hint by now."

And you couldn't help but join him. You thought you were the one who was deranged out of their mind. Here Finnick was telling you he had spent an entire year trying to confess his love without you even realising.

"I'm sorry it took me so long."

"It's alright," he said, earnestly. "I'd say it worked out pretty well. I mean, look where your obliviousness got us."

You smiled. Your legs were tangled with Finnick's; his arm was holding you tightly against his bare upper body, and his fingers were lovingly tracing over yours. Yeah, you were pretty grateful for your obliviousness sometimes. A new pair of underwear might have been something to consider, though.

A silence settled between you, comfortable, peaceful. Being in Finnick's embrace almost made you forget entirely about the reality of your existence—the Games, the dominion over Panem, the chaotic environment back home. It was the reason you had set off last year in search of a place away from society.

You had now found that the escape you were looking for wasn't a place or a hidden paradise, but a person. It was Finnick.

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

The trees and palm leaves danced in the light breeze. Waves lapped on the shore.

You angled your head back to look at Finnick and felt him pull you closer. His expression was a picture of relaxation and contentment. His eyes gazed down at you, glimmering with the reflection of scattered stars in the night sky, just like the sea in front of you.

He seemed to already know what you were going to say. Always the mind reader.

"Say it, sweetheart." The corners of his lips twitched expectantly.

Sweetheart. Oh, how could you have ever felt for him in any other way?

"I love you too."

His face broke into one of the happiest smiles you had ever seen.

...roll credits

[anirudhpisharody]

please stop attacking ai rant in tags

[so-that-was-okay]

Every time I read an anti-Bucktommy take it's like they don't understand what they're watching. Like, no understanding of how fiction works at all and a criminal lack of media literacy. And also unable to follow a simple story.

A tv show like 911 will never be like their favorite friends to lovers fics where everything they want to see on-screen is made into words, every little thought, every gesture is described in a flowery way, every single line is doctored to fit the fandom's expectations, using very specific tropes. This is fanwork, this is our business, we love it, we cherish it but this is our stuff.

911 is a tv show. It'll use many types of tv writing techniques to get to the point while having to deal with budgetary constraints, marketing needs, political restrictions and more. Could they have done a better job with reintroducing Tommy? Absolutely. Does it work as it is? Of course, if we're actually looking at what and how they tell on-screen.

A (long) BuckTommy timeline.

🚁 7x03 - Tommy and Buck meet on the day of the rescue, even before we see Buck, Chim and Eddie in the chopper. They first meet off-screen. We don't know what happened then, we don't know how they looked at each other, if they smiled at each other, if they even talked directly to each other. But they met before we see them in the chopper.

We know by what happens later that Tommy makes a strong impression on Buck (who is already in the middle of a real life crisis). We can also assume that Tommy is attracted to Buck based on his looks (and probably also affinity, they do the same job, never underestimate the homoerotic power of male camaraderie), something we also understand later, so it works (but also, the way he looks at Buck at the end of this episode is a subtle hint.) Don't forget that writers know in advance things we don't, that's why we can go back and find the breadcrumbs we didn't notice before or couldn't make a connection with yet.

🔥 Buck wants to know more about Tommy and his work. This is where you, as the audience, should fill the gap based on what we saw before and what comes next. This is where you should be able to do that instead of wanting everything on-screen the same way you put everything in a fanfic. This gap you fill because you're supposed to understand how average tv storytelling works leads to the following point.

🚁 7x04 - Buck contacts Tommy, he gets to visit Harbor. At this point, we can clearly see Tommy is acting flirty in a very subtle and respectful way, because he doesn't really know what's the deal with Buck, but remember the way he looked at Buck in 7x03? Then there's Buck acting... weird. What's his real purpose here? And this was before he even knew Tommy and Eddie were BFF, so Buck was already attracted to Tommy whatever his connection with the 118 crew, even if the real reason was blurry even to Buck himself.

🔥 7x04 - Tommy is now someone they interact with regularly. Tommy is now slowly working his way (back) into the 118 group. He finds a good friend in Eddy (strangely I don't see anyone questioning that. How is that easier than having a simple, passive crush?), apparently spends a lot of time with him, and knows Christopher because he went to Eddie's house 3 times. Eddie definitely knows more about Tommy than Buck at this point.

🚁 7x04 - Buck is clearly troubled by Tommy. Then there's this whole jealousy circus going on, Buck is a mess, his insecurities are breaking the roof and he's more troubled than ever. Is he jealous of Eddy or Tommy? Or both? (it's both) He wants to be the center of the attention. If he feels he's losing this, people will discard him. So he does some stupid shit. And you can see his feelings are also all over the place. But there's more than just fighting for attention, and that's probably why he's slowly starting to be angry. Because what he feels is different and he can't put his finger on it.

The discussion with Maddie clearly shows how he's chewing on his own heart. He didn't want what he had to change and he acted like a kid with big feelings and little control of himself.

🔥 7x04 - Tommy, who's having a passive crush on Buck, takes the matter in hands and kisses him. Tommy having a crush is not less normal than Buck flirting with basically any cute girl showing interest in him. Being more mature, he meets Buck to set things straight, after having talked about it with Eddie. It's not out of nowhere. Eddie and Tommy are not stupid, and Eddie knows Buck. He saw something was wrong. Tommy, being the new addition to their dynamic, thought it was his fault (I think Eddie and Tommy really felt guilty about going to Vegas and leaving Buck just like that lmao That was so bad for Buck's confidence, I felt it in my bones). Excuses turn to clearing the air turn to let's go for it.

Tommy really took a gamble there. If Buck wasn't what he thought he was, it could have been so bad. So, so bad for Tommy and his job. Imagine Buck accusing Tommy of assault? But he took the risk of kissing him because he has more experience and knows how to read the signs. He's not 15, he has experience with men, and closeted men for sure.

And you know, this is a beautiful scene for Buck as a character. The way he realizes why he did all that, what it means about him, for him. I mean, he knew, in a way, but he didn't know. And Tommy was suddenly everywhere in his life, overwhelming while doing nothing. You have to understand that everything is happening in Buck's head and he needed just a little push to open his eyes.

Buck's queer path: unlocked.

🚁 7x05 - First date, first mess but also first lesson. At this point, you can't even doubt about Tommy's intentions anymore. Buck might still be in a blurry phase but Tommy is not sending mixed signals at all (not with that choice of shirt, let me tell you this. My man was set to hit that night). Buck panicked, Tommy even tried to keep him on tracks for the evening, but between meeting Eddie and what it made Buck say... I mean, Tommy could have had a stronger reaction. Why accept the date if you can't deal with it?

But Tommy knows why, he's been there. Buck liked the idea of the date, but once you're there, everything becomes real. So once again, a little push: Tommy is honest and prefers to part ways, but not without saying why. He's not even mad. At this point, Buck really needs to take another step. It's difficult to drag someone else into your own fog. He has all the rights to be troubled, to doubt, to be scared, but you don't drag someone else in this with you. Tommy protected himself from that, also protected Buck from doing something he'd regret, and he did it with guidance.

🔥 7x05 - Buck talks with Maddie about his date and comes out to her, but more importantly: Buck comes out to Eddie. Look. This is canon, and I know we can choose to ignore canon but both scenes are great. And it's still canon. Maddie is obviously accepting and happy for Buck, and we expected no less from her.

With Eddie, I honestly expected at least some discussion like are you sure? or something like that but I think that at this point, everyone at the 118 knows that there's more to Buck than meets the eye. I'd have loved this scene to be longer with more exchange between Eddie and Buck but it is what it is, and Eddie is supportive of his best friend (yes, sorry, their canon relationship is best friends and I love their friendship, even more now that Buck is out).

And yes, this is even more important to show not only a strong friendship between a supposedly cishet man and a bisexual man but also, and we'll see that later, Eddie still trusts Buck around Chris. Nothing changed. So many people associate queer people with predators, we need to see queer people, and especially queer men, being trusted around children, and being safe. This is the right representation.

I know bvddies are trying to find any reason to make this storyline choice look like shit, because they want their ship to sail (and I completely understand wanting that), but accusing the people who like Buck and Tommy together of being homophobes because they cherish the canon beautiful friendship between Buck and Eddie?? We're not talking about headcanons here, about reading between the lines, or being "coded" a certain way (sorry, for me Eddie is not gay-coded. He's a-spec for sure, and I'm going for being demi, but gay? I don't see it anymore at this point of the show). It's about the canon. You know, at this point, things are already moving into place, even if you don't like Buck and Tommy together. This is where canon is at, this is the story. It's not a personal attack against anyone in the fandom.

🚁 7x05 - Buck wants to apologize to Tommy for the failed date, and for his behavior. Oh, accountability, my beloved. We love to see Buck working on himself. This is the real start of whatever will happen from now on between Buck and Tommy. Buck knows he's ready to embrace this new part of himself and he feels like Tommy is the right person to do that with.

Tommy being Tommy, he makes sure Buck knows what all this means. Buck is not a teenager, Tommy treats him as an equal but he also knows how it feels to be in Buck's shoes.

🔥 7x06 - Tommy, a responsible adult, makes time for Buck (and Chim!) even when he clearly could, and maybe should, just decline. This part was used way too often against Tommy by BoBs. Tommy is a fire pilot on call the night of the bachelor party. A FIRE PILOT ON CALL. Do you think his main goal that night is to have fun? Or is it to be a responsible adult who could well be saving lives (while risking his) the same night? Do you know what it means to be on call? You're basically working without being at work, the second your job needs you, you have to be 100% ready. Again, he's a fire pilot (even if he's also sent on ground work that night). His first job would be to pilot a freaking helicopter and accomplish tasks that requires skills, precision and to not be half asleep. You don't play with that responsibility.

So Tommy showing up is indeed huge. He does it for Buck, and for Chim, but definitely for Buck in the first place. He could have stayed home to get some sleep while waiting. Instead of that, not only he doesn't sleep but he ends up fighting a fire for hours. And the first thing people used against him was that he didn't follow the dress code?! No, you guys need to grow up and live a bit more of real life.

And then we have The Kiss (please someone draw them as The Kiss by Klimt, every fandom needs its Kiss fanart). And once again, it's Tommy making time for Buck, and Chim, when he could be home, take a good shower and be in his cozy bed after working on a fire for more than what, 14 hours? This is a man who knows his priorities. And responsible men are sexy as hell, even when it means they can't have fun like everyone else.

Now, if after all this, and mind you, this is all canon, you still think Tommy is a fraud in this storyline, that his budding romance with Buck has no foundation or that he doesn't care about Buck? And don't even get me started on the "but he was a racist and a misogynist before". Yes, he was. And yes, he changed. Like I said: learn to know his character, but also trust Hen. The fact is that at this point of the story, Tommy is great for Buck. He's kind, he's safe, he's trying even when there's no expectations. Be happy for great representation.

Oh, and don't use your hate against the ship or Tommy to be a nasty little shit with the actors and writers. Decency is free.

[ganondoodle]

wait i just realized... the mastersword isnt even important enough to warrant zelda doing to such extreme lengths to repair it bc its NOT EVEN REQUIRED FOR DEFEATING GANONDORF

idk about you but the mastersword being not just this weak after all this but also not even required is like ... hurting the whole plot SO bad for all that zelda knew she was basically killing herself by doing the dragon thing ONLY for the mastersword, which isnt even needed to reach the end why do the dragon thing at all??? she could have put it in some other divine place for it to recover (she knew where the springs are, she knew where the krog forest is, heck she even knew where the forgotten temple is BC THEY WERE ALL THERE* and im not going to belive any of them came into existence afterwards), in botw it took 'only' a 100 years to regenerate the damage it took in botws past which, while not as extreme as in totk, was pretty bad! yeah it gets outright broken in totk but like ... really? far over 10 000 years to recover it? through ZELDA? one of the most divine being IN THE FORM of one of the most divine beings aside from the very gods themselves?? whats the use of it being able to regernate if it takes THAT long?? feels easier to forge a new one for that matter?? and the excuse that "it needed to be able to resist miasma" is like .. why tho? yeah ok fine i could do the entire bossfight with JUST the mastersword, but again, its not required! i can do it with anything else!! and its doesnt cleanse miasma either, like the sword did in tp when you could do away the twilight stuff when it got the super glow stuff so its really like ... she did that JUST for the sword? really? the fact that her becoming a dragon is the way to get her back into her time isnt something she could have known and it working out like that makes it feel like a massive fail of the writers bc it makes it feel less like an actual decision she made for good reason and more bc its a decision the writers made bc the writers already knew where it would end, the writers knew shed be turned back in the end no problem so they had her do the dragon thing despite it being pretty senseless from her perspective

(wouldnt it have felt more in character and logical to put the mastersword somwhere safe where it can recover over all those centuries and search for a way to return to her time herself? like in these two games ZELDA feels like the more important thing that the sword, -zeldas prone to sacrifice herself for other- WHY! its better for everyone if you are alive rather than dead! you got to this time by yourself and also somehow not jsut shifted the time but also PLACE bc you sure as hell didnt appear in a cavern in the middle of the land, you have wielded incredible magic before and are a researcher, surely theres some way for you to at least TRY to return on your own?? how cool would it have been to find little markers and spots where clearly she has left you some sort of message, maybe like a way for you to do something that helps her in the past, USE THE WEIRD ASS TIME BUBBLES FROM THE TUTORIAL AGAIN!! send back something she needs to return! go and talk with impa and purah to determine what shes trying to tell you, help her along the way and in the end she makes her triumphant return, having grown and learned with what she did instead of regressing her chaarcter to the big eyed maiden that you get as a reward at the end through unsatisfying bs reasons and hurray she doesnt even remember, perfect little fairytale of no consequences wahoo- im salty about this let me be salty-)

you can absolutely combine a free to explore open world with good story without restricting it by much, like locking the bossfight behind aquiring the mastersword doesnt feel like that big of a change and its not making it a whole lot more linear, most people do it anyway right?

(also a thing im doing in my rewrite of it is locking certain things for some parts, it just makes sense if you are trying to tell a story, but its pretty clear now they werent trying to do that, just throw you into a box of virtual toys, and i think thats just sad)

*yeah actually whats up with the sonau/rauru putting their little nuclear super weapon storage room inTO THE ANCIENT RELICT OF THE FORGOTTEN PAST TEMPLE BEHIND THE BIGGEST STATUE OF HYLIA IN EXISTENCE?? you cant tell me all those ancient ruins (springs, forgotten temple) were made AFTER all of the shitshow that went down in totks past; putting it behind that statue? building it into there feels incredibly disrespectful, maybe it makes more sense if you just see it as the devs wanting to put somethign new there, but if you consider it in universe its just ??? also HOW is any of it in such a good shape??, it looks like they buried sonia there a year ago, the structures look like they just came out of a 3d printer despite supposedly being older than their recorded history??

on that note ... how does the room with the order and location of zeldas tears make sense .. are you telling me someone of the past ran around after dragon zelda recording where her fucking tears went down and what markings it made on the ground and then built a room next to the nuclear weapon storage room with the laughably unceremonial grave of the fucking queen just to put all that into statue form? also none of the geographical things changed in ALL that time?? the castle is drawn on there too so i guess that was super fresh then since it "was built above ganondorf as a symbol of royal blahbla" at least in botw you had the photos on your SHIEKAH stone to recover them once you found the place they were taken in, it felt so organically integrated ..

[colorfulmetaphors]

(An Attempt at) A Maul Masterlist

hello folks! after seeing multiple requests in the tag for recs for Maul content or help finding Maul stories, I decided to make a list trying to do both for everything I've found because it took me a lot of searching to figure out what's actually out there for this man. and the answer is a lot, actually. So, hoping this saves others the time and the struggle, here's all the Maul stuff i've found along with what I would rec and why:

Stuff specifically about Maul

Books:

Episode 1 Adventures 3: The Fury of Darth Maul by Ryder Windham | junior novella

As far as I'm aware, this is the first published work for Maul. It's a junior novel about Maul carrying out a mission for Sidious, and it can be accompanied by a game book for a choose-your-own adventure. The novel itself though, is one of my favorite Maul stories because it defines his characterization for me.

The Wrath of Darth Maul also by Ryder Windham | junior novel

Maul's og origin in Legends. I think it's a must-read. This book was published alongside Maul's revival in TCW and seeks to reconcile his Legends background with that character by gathering his previous lore into one cohesive story. It notably includes and expands upon the events of the following three items:

Star Wars Episode 1 Journal: Darth Maul by either Judy Blundell or Jude Watson | novella A story that offers some of Maul's narration on his upbringing and his training with Sidious. "Darth Maul: Restraint" by James Luceno | short story Published in the second edition of Shadow Hunter (listed below), this story details Maul's time at Orsis Academy, the relationships he's forming, and his run-in with Mother Talzin. Great for showing his inner-conflict and devotion to Sidious. "Darth Maul: Endgame" also by James Luceno | short story This one is published in the paperback 2012 edition of TPM novel by Terry Brooks. It's an introspective piece that takes place after Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Obi-Wan escape Maul's attack on Tatooine.

Darth Maul: Saboteur also ALSO by James Luceno | short story

Originally published as an ebook, this story was also published in Shadow Hunter. It follows Maul on one of his first missions as a true apprentice of Sidious and shows his characterization when he's just outside that restrictive control. I really like this one for the Drama and the Subtle Characterization tm

Darth Maul: Shadow Hunter by Michael Reaves | novel

One of the two blessed full novels for Maul. In it Maul is on a mission to hunt down a target and has a very early encounter with the Jedi. This one is great for characterization and narration; I have it fully marked up with highlights, sticky notes, and bookmarks.

Maul: Lockdown by Joe Schreiber | novel

The second blessed full novel. So. Much. Fun. Maul goes to jail! Takes part in cage fights! Chases birds! Reveals the depths of his anxiety and need for attachment! Mystery and gore! 10/10.

"An Unwilling Apprentice" by George Mann | short story, found in the Star Wars: Galaxy's Edge edition of Myths and Fables

Maul's canon origin. Personally, I Do Not See It.

Stories of Jedi and Sith - "The Ghosts of Maul" by Michael Moreci | short story in the listed anthology

I highly recommend listening to the audio book for this one if you can. Sam Witwer narrates it and it's fantastic. Love hearing Maul wail in despair. (and also love a man being haunted by his past.)

The next two are unique because they're re-tellings of TCW episodes. I like seeing how different writers interpret those events so I like them, but I don't know if that counts as something folks would want to read for Maul.

The Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark - "Dark Vengeance" by Rebecca Roanhorse | short story in the listed anthology This one recounts TCW "Brothers" and "Revenge." I don't remember much specifically from it, but I do remember it being told as if to a small child, and I thought that was neat. The Clone Wars: Darth Maul: Shadow Conspiracy by Jason Fry | junior novel Covers "Revival," "Eminence," "Shades of Reason," and "The Lawless." The author writes like they're obsessed with Maul's voice, and frankly, I don't blame them.

Comics:

Darth Maul (2000) by Ron Marz | comic series, 4 issues

Maul goes on yet another mission for Sidious (unsurprisingly, this is the basic plot of most of his Legends materials). Violence ensues. Maul is certified Cool.

The following two comics can both be found in the Star Wars Legends Epic Collection: Rise of the Sith Volume 1 and Star Wars Legends: Rise of the Sith Omnibus

Star Wars Tales 10 - "Nameless" by Christian Read | single comic, found in the listed issue, Star Wars Tales Volume 3, or the above 2 collections Maul is sent to kill a Jedi master. To do so and improve his prowess in combat, Maul constructs his infamous double-bladed lightsaber. Star Wars Tales 24 - "Marked" by Rob Williams | single comic, found in the listed issue, Star Wars Tales Volume 6, or the above 2 collections A comic about obedience and fear; Maul grapples with the thought that Sidious might take another apprentice.

The Clone Wars: The Sith Hunters by Henry Gilroy and Stephen Melching | graphic novella

It's very funny to me that this is considered Legends even though it features TCW Maul and Savage. This one takes place after TCW episode "Revenge" and I'm gonna be honest-- I don't remember a lot from this, but I do remember that it shows Maul's earliest days on Lotho Minor so that's sick luv u spidermaul 4 5ever.

Darth Maul -- Death Sentence by Tom Taylor | comic series, 4 issues; also found in Star Wars Legends Epic Collection: The Clone Wars Volume 2

Maul leads a revolution while trying to rescue his brother. The story takes place between The Sith Hunters and TCW season 5 "Revival," filling in some of what Maul and Savage were doing in that time.

Darth Maul (2017) by Cullen Bunn | comic series, 5 issues

Luke Ross and Nolan Woodard just get it okay. I love the way Maul looks in this series. In my head, this comic is the canon alternative to Shadow Hunter, where Maul confronts a Jedi early on, but the differences between his characterization in these two stores is the basis of my understanding of the difference between Legends Maul and canon Maul.

Age of Republic - Darth Maul by Jody Houser | single issue comic, found independently or in the collection Star Wars: Age of Republic - Villains

Maul goes on an (Sith ashes) acid trip while on a visit to Malachor with Sidious.

Darth Maul -- Son of Dathomir by Jeremy Barlow | comic series, 4 issues

This series is especially interesting to me because it's adapted from TCW season 6 scripts that weren't produced. It follows Maul as he's rescued by Death Watch after the conclusion of his arc in season 5, and shows his alliance with Talzin as they confront Sidious. I think it's great for fleshing out that relationship and that side of canon Maul's character.

Star Wars Adventures (2020) 3 - "Tales of Villainy: The Hostage" by Shane McCarthy and Michael Moreci | single comic, found in the listed issue or in Star Wars Adventures: The Light and the Dark

Maul allows himself to be captured in an attempt to bring another crime syndicate into the Shadow Collective. Is this one monumental? No. Am I unreasonably fond of it? Hell yeah. If you've seen that panel of Maul and Savage drinking at a diner, it's from this comic. Also has Maul in chains for those of yall that are into that.

Star Wars Adventures: Return to Vader's Castle 1 - "The Horned Devil" by Cavan Scott | single comic found in the listed issue or in the collections Star Wars Adventures: Return to Vader's Castle and Star Wars Adventures: Beware Vader's Castle

A "sPoOKy" story about Maul on Lotho Minor. Once again, luv u spidermaul 4 5ever. The cover art is fuckin sick.

Star Wars Visionaries - "Old Wounds" by Aaron McBride | single comic found in the listed graphic novel, in Star Wars Omnibus: Wild Space Volume 2, Star Wars Legends Epic Collection: The Empire Volume 4, and Star Wars Legends: The Empire Omnibus Volume 2

In this comic, Maul tracks Obi-Wan to Tatooine for revenge. Sounds familiar, but this was published in 2005, before Maul's revival in TCW. His design in that show, though, was based off of this comic, and his episodes in Rebels show a similar influence. I like this one because I think it's fun to see how his narrative was evolving as different writers took on the story, and to see the path from where he began in Legends up to his end.

Stuff Maul is in: (not specifically about him, but he makes an appearance)

Books:

Darth Plagueis by James Luceno | novel

Our man JL is back with more Maul... just not as the focus. If you're going to read one thing from this "Stuff Maul is in" list, let it be this one. Granted, it's a loooooooooong book, but it's really great for fleshing out the Plagueis and Sidious and Maul dynamic. Maul does have some sections of his own narration, but the best bit of this novel is seeing how Plagueis and Sidious see him. It also has some of his original Legends origin!

Queen's Peril by E.K. Johnston | novel

This book is about Padme! Who I love dearly, so I enjoyed reading it. Maul has a few sections of narration in it that show his canon headspace.

Comics:

The first set of these is a mental collection I like to call "Legends writers just Try Shit" and it's a bunch of different ways Maul was brought back before TCW.

Star Wars Tales 9 - "Resurrection" by Ron Marz | single comic found in the listed issue, in Star Wars Tales Volume 3, or in Star Wars Legends Epic Collection: The Empire Volume 8 The Maul in this one has been resurrected by a dark side cult to be the true apprentice to Sidious. The story is mostly about Vader, but his duel with Maul is cool. Star Wars Tales 17 - "Phantom Menaces" by Joe Casey | single comic found in the listed issue, in Star Wars Tales Volume 5, or in Star Wars Legends Epic Collection: The New Republic Volume 5 While on a diplomatic mission, Luke Skywalker is attacked by a hologram of Maul and goes off to investigate. This is the one I use to bless my friends with the cursed knowledge of Maul's brain in a tank. Star Wars: Jedi Quest 1 by Ryder Windham | first comic in a series, also found in Star Wars Omnibus: Menace Revealed and Star Wars Legends Epic Collection: The Menace Revealed Volume 3 Truth be told, I have not read this one because I can't find it for free. In it, Maul is a training hologram? I think? For Anakin? idk. There's also a novel series by the same name and I got annoyed looking for what isn't really Maul anyway.

Star Wars: Republic (1998) 40 - "The Devaronian Version, Part 1" by John Ostrander | comic in a long ass series, but the one you want is found in the listed issue, Star Wars Omnibus: Quinlan Vos: Jedi in Darkness, or Star Wars Legends Epic Collection: The Menace Revealed Volume 3

I don't know what this is about even though I have read it; Maul is in it for like 3 panels; he gets called "nasty boy" and makes someone wet themselves in fright. Obviously core reading for the Maul experience.

Jedi Council: Acts of War by Randy Stradley | comic series, four issues by the listed name, or in Star Wars Omnibus: Rise of the Sith and Star Wars Legends Epic Collection: Rise of the Sith, Volume 1

Once again, I do not know what this is about because I have a very difficult time reading comics when Maul is not there. And in this series he's there for < 15 panels. But he looks pretty when he is there.

Obi-Wan -- A Jedi's Purpose 2 - "A Shadow Falls on the Padawan" by Christopher Cantwell | issue of a comic series

This comic includes a brief scene showing Obi-Wan remembering his and Maul's final battle on Tatooine and commenting on Maul's mental state. Makes me super emo.

And finally, encyclopedia-type stuff!: (not necessarily stories, but has neat info-- especially because they show what was considered canon at the time of their publication)

Darth Maul: Sith Apprentice by Jo Casey and Catherine Saunders | children's reader

Yes, you read that right. But this kid's book has fun information about Maul based on TPM. I especially like the image call-out for his "heavy action boots." It brings me joy.

Star Wars: The Phantom Menace: The Expanded Visual Dictionary by David West Reynolds and Jason Fry | what it says on the tin

The adult version of the above book. Shows the inside of Maul's lightsaber, which I love. Also still points out the heavy action boots. Clearly, they are a key component of the character.

And that's everything! There are some re-tellings of like, TPM, in novel or comic form but I was never super interested in those so I haven't read them.

If you know of something else please let me know! (Both so I can add it and so I can read it). Similarly, if you see any mistakes on the list, please tell me. It took me like 7 hours to type it up and check and cross-reference everything and some mistakes probably crept in there. If you're like me and you've gotten through (most of) this list, but still want More Maul, please check out my fic rec! There's a bunch of banger Maul fics there. Tagging @maul-my-heart. Hope you have fun in your reading!

[sokosmic]

How Saturn Spanks:

Saturn thru the Houses

While Saturn also rewards, the intent of this post is to highlight how the planet of discipline shows up in your life and may cause difficulties based on its house placement in your chart.

Saturn 1st House -

🪐 Clear identification of self. Self expression. Trouble asserting oneself. Controlling the ego. Putting self first. Lack of drive or motivation. Repressed aggression.

Saturn 2nd House -

🪐 Acquiring money. Lack of finances or financial gain. Overspending. Difficulty with self-worth. Hoarding or collecting useless possessions. Scarcity. Difficulty in business related things.

Saturn 3rd House -

🪐 Writer's block. Focused concentration. Depression. Speech impediment. Learning disabilities. Estranged with siblings and/or cousins. Conflicts or nonexistent communication with neighbors. Car troubles. Carpal tunnel. Restricted to hometown or seldom travel.

Saturn 4th House -

🪐 Daddy issues. Absent father. Cold or strict mother. Strict upbringing. Emotionally repressed. Lack of family. Rigid family values. Disciplined homelife. Modest or poor living arrangements. Trouble acquiring real estate. Troubles with real estate property.

Saturn 5th House -

🪐 Difficulty with casual dating. Prefers serious relationships. Trouble discovering talents, gifts, and creative abilities. Difficulty having children or may be a strict parent. Severe consequences from gambling or risk taking. Lack of confidence. Trouble relaxing and having fun.

Saturn 6th House -

🪐 Health issues, particularly with the gut. Lack of routine or organization. Loss of pets. Trouble finding work. Overworking. Strict or rigid work environment. Overthinking. Anxiety.

Saturn 7th House -

🪐 Marriage may come later in life. Difficulty maintaining relationships or partnerships. Relationships feel like a heavy responsibility. Trouble with contracts. Difficulty seeing or relating to all sides. Attracts older partners. Karmic lessons in partnerships.

Saturn 8th House -

🪐 Delays in inheritances. Will work very hard for other people's money. May experience issues with taxes. Inhibited sexuality. Fears surrounding the occult. Difficulty with intimacy. Fear of connecting at deep soul levels. Fear of death, but often live long lives.

Saturn 9th House -

🪐 Rigid ideas, worldview, or philosophy on life. Lack of travel. Difficulty with higher learning or secondary education. Riches or abundance may come much later in life. May feel the father restricted their ability to seek and obtain wisdom and knowledge.

Saturn 10th House -

🪐 Although Saturn is at home here and typically well positioned, it can cause a delay in career. Lots of responsibilities placed on native in the workplace. Public image or reputation may suffer from scandal. Difficulties with authority. Knee problems.

Saturn 11th House -

🪐 May suffer from loneliness. Friends are far and few. Very selective with establishing friends. May feel rejected from friend groups or an outcast of society. Fear of fulfilling one's dreams. Shy and reserved.

Saturn 12th House -

🪐 Unexplainable fears rooted in the subconscious. Isolating oneself from the collective. May experience blocks with spiritual growth or in one's imagination and creative talents. Problems with the feet, particularly the bones.

[seat-safety-switch]

I'll be honest with you. When they told me I had to join the Space Patrol, I was against it. Simply put, I have no quarrel with the Xenthorians. Yes, they abducted a lot of our political and social betters, ate their brains, and now want to dominate us. Nobody is going to argue with you that it's a total bummer we can't see Celebrity Lust Island anymore, because they removed and consumed the host's brains live on air. I just don't think we need to have a whole "resistance" about it.

Sure, in theory we should be in charge of our own destiny as sentient beings and not be beholden to an alien race. Everyone loves self-determination; it's not just this year's fad put into the surviving magazines by the large word people. It just seems like nobody at all has been thinking too hard about the precedent this sets.

Let's do a little thought experiment. Assuming that you and I and approximately seven million other able-bodied humans are able to push the Xenthorians back to their space elevator, put a big bomb on it, and destroy their mothership, what next? Once the alien oppressors are gone, does that mean it's okay for us to just take out the next government we don't like? I thought we were supposed to vote out the bums, not obliterate them with nukes snuck away from underground bunkers by ragtag special ops units made up of hardened survivors. And I'll be honest, it's not a good look if this becomes a species-ist thing, either. We are only permitted to kill aliens, genocide boy? Maybe the Xenthorians have a point, if we're gonna be like that.

I think what we really need to do is find a compromise position. Sure, they got rid of most of our Hollywood stars, talented writers, and people who know how the world actually works, but they also got rid of my city councillor who voted in favour of more parking restrictions. What's that? The Xenthorians want to get rid of the free four-hour parking zone outside the casino so they have a place to store their Starstrider? They're going to raise the price of downtown parking to ten dollars a day? The hell they will. Get my gun.

[dc-marvel-crossovers]

To celebrate and promote DC/Marvel crossovers, we’re hosting a “fanworks of fanworks” event!

Participants create fanworks in various mediums of existing crossover fics. The idea is to connect a community of writers, artists, and appreciators of DC/Marvel crossovers.

More under the cut, or in doc form here.

How it Works:

Writers submit a bookmark of their existing DC/Marvel crossover work (one fic or series per submitting author) to an Ao3 collection. Writers will also need to create at least one fanwork (any medium) of another author’s fic, but that comes later; see step 2. After bookmarking your fic, complete this form.

You do not have to submit a fic to participate! Participants sign on to create up to five fanworks of submitted fics, within the following categories: playlist, art, collage/moodboard, remix fic, timestamp/sequel fic, and podfic. Details below. If you’re interested in fanworking (but aren’t submitting a fic) and you want an email with a ping once the submission period closes, put your email on the list here! 

Writers and fanworkers are encouraged to share ideas and promote each other’s work!

Guidelines for the Event:

Writers will be able to indicate which types of fanwork they’re okay with their fic receiving. Each fic submitted will receive at least one fanwork, but can receive up to one of each type. A fic cannot receive more than one of each type of work.

If participants choose to create more than one fanwork, they each need to be for a different fic — you can’t sign on to do more than one type for the same fic. Participants can do more than one of a type (as long as they’re for different fics). For example, you can do playlists for up to five different fics, or a playlist for two fics plus a remix for three fics.

Any crossover of Marvel and DC is eligible — no restrictions on content, pairing, or length. But keep in mind that if people don’t want to read your fic, it’s less likely to get multiple claims.

A fic with more than one author can be submitted by one of the authors, even if a co-author has submitted a different fic of their own. The writer who submits the fic is solely responsible for participation and fanwork creation.

Timeline:

January 1 - Fic submissions close; reading window opens! Participants are encouraged to read all the fics in the collection before choosing which ones they’d like to fanwork. 

January 14 - First round claims — for writers only, to guarantee that each fic gets at least one fanwork.

January 21 - Open claims start. Once your claim is confirmed on the Big Spreadsheet you can start creating/posting immediately.

February 29 - Tentative deadline for posting fanworks. If a lot of people express interest we may set up staggered posting dates.

Types of Fanworks:

All fanworks need to be posted on Ao3 using the “inspired by” feature. If you need help embedding images or whatever else, we can help you figure that out, but you do need an Ao3 account. 

Original art. Digital preferred, but if you’d rather create traditionally and then scan to upload, we can work with that. 

Collage/moodboard. You can use a simple grid layout, or get more creative with it. These should have at least nine elements involved. 

Playlist. At minimum, ten songs. These will get posted to Ao3 either using a screenshot of the track listing, by typing out each track name/artist, or embedding the playlist. You can also include cover art, explanations of why you chose each song, snippets of lyrics, links to each song on YouTube, etc, if you want to get more in-depth with it. 

Timestamp/sequel fic. Maximum 5000 words. Fill in a scene that takes place during the original fic but did not make it into the original story, or write a sequel. 

Remix fic. Maximum 5000 words. Put your own spin on the plot of the original fic. Keep the original characters, but you can add additional characters to a scene, or see how one character making a different choice would change the whole plot, or reverse their roles, etc. 

Podfic. This one is pretty self-explanatory. Ideally, podfic should be complete by the end of the posting window, but if you’re working with a long fic and want to break it up, make sure you have at least one chapter posted. 

Questions? Message us on tumblr or email dc.marvel.crossover.mod@gmail.com

[pensat-i-fet]

Attention seekers (Pedri x Reader)

**I got this request and my writer’s block suddenly disappeared. Funny that, right? 👀🤷 Anyways, the story is set in lockdown-ish times but that isn’t the plot but what kickstarts the plot. Hope you guys enjoy it!! ❤️❤️ **

Word count: 3115

Masterlist

Wattpad

“So it’s cancelled? Yeah, I get it. Hopefully, you won’t feel too bad. See you soon”.

You hung up the phone feeling so annoyed by the change of plans. After all the months of lockdown, it was possible to travel again and you had planned a trip with your uni friends. But now one of them tested positive and both she and all the others had to stay home. You didn’t see them since your exams were done, so you knew you were fine but…what were you going to do for your holidays now? Your family was going on a cruise with some friends of the family and you couldn’t think of a more boring plan.

“What’s wrong, princess? You look sad”, said your dad when he saw you sitting down, phone still in your hand.

“My holidays have been cancelled because all my friends have to quarantine. I guess I’ll stay here. There are worse places to be”.

“Come with us. There’s room for one more”.

“I don’t like cruises, dad. Besides, you’re travelling with people I don’t even know”.

“Nonsense”, he said, and you could tell he was not going to change his mind. “You know them. We used to be with them all the time”.

“Yes, when I was a baby. I don’t remember any of it”.

“Well, they are great so why don’t you come with us to Barcelona to see them and then if you don’t want to go on the cruise, you can come back here and be all alone. But give it a try”.

“Ok”, you said, rolling your eyes. It wasn't as if you had better plans.

                                       **

A lot of the stricter restrictions had been lifted, but you still needed to quarantine before travelling abroad. So the families’ plan was to stay at the house of one of the kids in Barcelona since that’s where the cruise will be leaving from. It was apparently big enough for all of you because he was a rich football player now. You couldn’t care less about those things.

“I can’t believe you don’t remember Pedri”, said your mum.

“I do”, laughed your sister.

“Well, you’re older…”.

“Yes, and I also remember because you two were so funny together. You were either throwing things at him or trying to kiss him”.

“Don’t say that in front of him”, you told her but her smirk told you she was going to tell him the moment she could bring it up.

“I’m sure you’ll get on well, honey. He’s a great kid and so is his brother”.

You nodded at your dad’s words, already bored of hearing so much about Perfect Pedri. It was going to be a long trip for sure.

When you got to his house you couldn’t lie and pretend you weren’t impressed. He really was doing well. And also, a big house meant it was easier to avoid people you didn’t want to see so it worked for you.

After all the greetings and all the “oh my God! I can’t believe how tall and pretty you are!” comments, you excused yourself to your room. People never realised how shy you actually were and being surrounded by strangers, even if they weren’t completely strangers, wasn’t so easy for you. Plus the heartbreak of missing out on your dream holidays with your friends was still too recent.

After a little nap, you decided to head to the kitchen to ask when dinner was going to be ready and if they needed any help. But the moment you left the room, you bumped into a body and your phone fell to the floor.

“Sorry”, said Pedri, reaching for your phone and taking a quick look at the screen before giving it back to you. “Carlos? Is that your boyfriend?”

“No. Give that back”.

“Sure. I was sent to tell you dinner will be ready soon”.

“Ok, thanks”.

You tried to move but he got in your way. What was his problem?

“I remember you”.

“I don’t remember you”, you said back, trying to walk again but he was still blocking the way.

“Our parents got the photo album out. You would like to see some of the photos. There are a lot of just you and me. It looked like we were good friends and seeing them made me remind you”.

“Great! I guess my sister already told you about me hitting and kissing you. Glad I wasn’t there to be embarrassed”.

“Kissing me?”

Crap.

“Let’s go eat”.

You managed to leave that uncomfortable conversation and made your way downstairs, trying to remember the way to the kitchen. The last thing you needed was to get lost.

“You were nicer in my memories”.

                                            **

Being stuck at home was a familiar feeling for everyone now but when it was someone else's house…

"We could go read in the garden", offered your sister.

"Sure, let me pick up my Kindle".

Everyone else was also in the garden, of course. You walked past Pedri and Fer and saw they were playing football.

"Doesn't he get bored of kicking a ball all the time?", you asked your sister but it was Pedri who answered.

"No, I don't. Do you want to play with us?"

You looked away, shaking your head and heading to the chairs where you could do some reading.

"It's like a reversal of what used to happen", said Fer, laughing at his brother's expression.

"What do you mean?"

"As kids. She was always following you around and trying to get your attention. Now it's you doing that".

"I'm not doing anything. Just trying to make her feel welcome".

"I saw your face when she got here yesterday. You didn't believe me when I told you how pretty she was…but now you do and want some of her attention".

"Whatever. Besides, she has a boyfriend".

"She does? Her parents said she didn't".

Pedri thought about the messages he saw on your phone when he picked it up. Whoever Carlos was, he was definitely flirting with you and you were flirting back. So boyfriend or not, you had your eyes on someone.

"I thought we were going to read".

"Huh?"

"You're glued to your phone. Who are you talking with?"

"No one", you said. Because you weren't, really. You were just checking if Carlos had answered any of your messages but he hadn't.

He had tested negative and you offered to go back to Castellón to be with him but ever since you said that…silence.

"Is it Carlos?"

"Just leave it! Stop getting in my business!"

You didn't want to raise your voice but your sister was always trying to get you to talk about everything. And you didn't like that. The more people tried to pry into your life, the less you wanted to share any details with anyone. Why couldn't they understand you would talk when you felt comfortable?

When you got to the kitchen, you bumped into Pedri again.

"Are you following me or something?"

"What? I was getting an ice cream from the kitchen. Do you want one? It's getting really hot".

You shook your head, walking into the kitchen when you noticed him grabbing your arm to stop you.

"You don't have to run away from me. I don't bite".

"I guess you are used to the fangirls following you everywhere but I'm not doing anything because of you. I just want to be alone".

Pedri was getting annoyed by the way you treated him.

"Have you seen my sister?"

"Yes, she went inside after letting me know again how much she dislikes me".

"Why would she dislike you?", asked your sister, surprised he was saying that.

"She barely looks at me when I speak to her, always being so…I don't know, arrogant and cold".

"Don't take it personally. She's really shy and struggles with new people".

Pedri nodded. He guessed that made sense.

"And…she wasn't supposed to be here. She was going on a trip with her friends but one is sick and the rest are quarantining. And the guy she likes is a dick".

That caught his attention. "Is he?"

"Yes. He's always leading her on and then stops talking to her for weeks. Until he's bored again and wants some attention. But if I try to tell her she gets mad at me. Like she's right now. And also, she had a bad experience with a football player".

"When? What happened?"

Your sister laughed again, remembering how mad you had been. "She's studying to be a journalist in Castellón and got to do an interview with a Villarreal player for an assignment. He was…well, asshole doesn't begin to cover how he was. So her opinion of you guys is a bit tainted".

Pedri nodded, noticing his ice cream was starting to melt and used that as an excuse to go back to the garden.

He didn't expect you to be so complex. Thinking you were just being bitchy to him for no reason was easier but now he was intrigued. And not just because you were pretty like his brother said.

                                          **

[You]: do you know if you're going back to Castellón or not yet?

You didn't expect an answer from Carlos, seeing the last 5 texts in the conversation all came from you and he had left you on read all 5 times.

[Carlos]: can you Facetime?

[You]: yes!!

You ran to the bathroom quickly to check how you looked before running back to the bed to answer his call.

"Hey! How are you?"

"Been busy. You?"

"Bored", you laughed. "Can you save me from going on this boring cruise, please?"

Carlos didn't have time to say more before you heard a knock on your door.

"What?"

"We are going shopping", said Pedri. "Do you need anything from the supermarket?"

"I don't know. I'm busy now …".

"We are leaving now. Don't complain later about us getting the wrong milk or whatever".

"Who's that?", asked Carlos.

"The guy who owns this house, he…", another knock. "Pedri! I'm on the phone. Leave me alone!"

"Pedri? Like the Barça player".

"Not like", you said, rolling your eyes. "The Barça player".

Carlos' face annoyed you. He was looking at the screen as if you were stupid.

"Sure. You know famous players and stay in their houses. Right".

You got up and walked to the door, opening it and finding Pedri there, waiting.

"Look", you said, pointing the camera at him.

"Who's that?", tried to ask Pedri before Carlos lost it.

"Oh my God! It's really you. I'm a big fan, man. Can you sign a shirt for me?"

He guessed that was Carlos and between what your sister told him and the way he heard him talk to you, he was already bored of seeing his stupid face.

"I don't have any shirts here. Sorry", he said, tone dry.

"I could send one. Or I can go visit you guys in Barcelona if you are friends".

Pedri's response was to move your phone away from his face and look at your surprised face.

"Do you want something or not? We can't be here all day waiting for you to be done talking to your boyfriend".

"He's not my boyfriend".

"Good. You deserve better", he said, loud enough for Carlos to hear.

When he left, you closed the door and went back to your bed.

"Well, he's a dick".

"I have to go, Carlos".

"Are you coming to Castellón then? I'm bored. No one is here".

Yes. You deserved better.

"No. I'll stay with my family".

You picked up your mask and ran downstairs, hoping they hadn't left yet.

"Can I go with you?", you asked Pedri and his mum, who were on their way out.

"If you want to go, I'll stay. I'm really tired", said his mum, leaving you two alone.

"Are you driving?"

He nodded and you followed him to his car.

"I'm sorry about Carlos. He's…well, he …".

"He's an asshole".

"Yeah", you said, looking away.

"I'm sure you can do better than someone like him".

"You're more optimistic than me, then", you said, laughing sadly.

"Why do you say that?"

"The last months have been tough".

"You could say", he said, making you laugh.

"I mean, apart from that. I'm shy and meeting new people drains my energy. So going to a new uni, and meeting new people, …it was hard enough before lockdowns and all that. And I guess I've been guilty of just settling for the first person who is nice to me a few times".

"It can happen to anyone".

You looked at him and saw no judgment in his face.

"How was it for you? Moving to Barcelona, I mean. Leaving your teammates to meet new ones. I guess it's a bit similar to changing schools".

"It was hard at the beginning. I can be shy too but it's better now. The squad is really nice. I got lucky".

"That's good to hear".

You kept driving to the supermarket in silence but thankfully it was a short drive.

"I have a list", said Pedri showing you his phone, "but get whatever you want".

It was your first time shopping there so you just followed him and kept putting things you liked in the trolley. Then you noticed him moving and hiding behind you.

"What? Did you see an ex or something?", you asked, trying not to laugh.

"Worse, a group of kids with Barça shirts. I don't mind them asking for photos but you are here too".

"I don't mind either…".

"They'll say I was with my girlfriend if they see us together".

"Oh…right. Keep hiding then".

You couldn't help but laugh seeing him scan the aisles before walking.

"Pe…", you started to say his name but were freaked out like him, so you grabbed his arm instead. "Sorry for being so rude to you. I…it's no excuse but I don't know how to interact with people sometimes and get all snappy".

"It's ok. Your sister told me".

She did?

"I'm sorry anyway".

You couldn't see his mouth because of the mask, but the way his eyes wrinkled told you he was smiling and that made you smile back.

Maybe the holidays weren't going to be that bad.

                                          **

The days after your trip to the supermarket were pretty uneventful. You still had to stay home and spent most of the time in the garden but the tension you felt staying at Pedri's surrounded by people you didn't know disappeared. Your parents were happy to see you were being more confident and just the normal you they knew and loved.

"Now that we have sunscreen there is no excuse. We're working on our tan, little sis".

Yeah, well…that was an excuse because you didn't want to wear a tiny bikini in front of everyone. The beach was one thing but the garden? It felt weird. But only to you because everyone else had been just wearing swimwear all day. Everyone but you.

"I don't know…".

"The green one", she said, ignoring you while she looked into your suitcase. "It looks so good on you".

Tired of the comments about how you were boiling under the clothes, you took the bikini from her hands and put it on.

You wrapped a towel around your body and followed your sister to the garden. Pedri and Fer were in the kitchen making some drinks for everyone. You put the towel on the grass while they were carrying the trays out and if it wasn't for Pedri's dad's good reflexes, the tray his youngest son was holding would have ended up on the floor.

"Careful!"

"Sorry", he said, looking away from where you stood, applying sun cream to your body.

Fer noticed the reason for the near accident and chuckled.

"Ask her if she needs help applying cream on her back".

"Shut up".

But no matter how much he pretended to not be affected by your presence, everyone noticed. And after many whispers that confused you, they managed to find a way to leave you two alone in the garden.

"And then there were two", you joked.

"Yeah", now it was his turn to act shy.

"Am I going to have to throw things at you like when I was a kid? To get your attention?"

"I'd prefer if you tried to kiss me again”, he muttered.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. I'm just distracted, I guess".

"I think I get now why people get annoyed when I don't look at them while I speak. It's pretty unnerving when you do it".

He took a deep breath and turned to look at you.

"It's hard to look at you right now".

"Am I that ugly? Really?", you joked but he didn't laugh.

He shook his head and you noticed him looking at you. Really looking at you. His eyes going from your head to your toes and then back to your head again.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable when you notice you're almost making me drool".

"Am I?"

Now he nodded, looking at your face to try and see your reaction.

"I'm not uncomfortable. You can keep looking".

He nodded again. "You can look too".

That made you laugh. "I've been looking for a couple of days. Keep working on the gym. The results aren't half bad".

After your little confession, Pedri put a towel next to yours to lie down. And you both talked about the most random things. Just entertaining each other. His company felt nice. Way nicer than Carlos' ever felt and that only showed you how much you were wasting your time trying to impress him.

"Dinner is almost ready, kids", said your mum. "Why don't you get ready? We're watching a movie afterwards if you want to join us".

Pedri got up and offered you a hand to do the same, which you took. Wrapping your towel around your body again, you followed him inside the house.

It was back to walking in silence until you got to your room.

"See you in a bit", he said when you opened the door. But instead of getting inside and closing it, you grabbed his arm to pull him inside with you. "What …".

"I wanted your attention so I thought, should I throw something at him again? But then I realized it would be rude to do that in your own house and I'm rambling again because being shy sucks".

He was biting his lip, trying not to laugh.

"So anyways, I'll do this instead", you finished saying before kissing him.

"I don't think you have my full attention, sorry. Maybe try again?"

[neptunedivine]

astro observations pt. iii

✧ pluto in aquarius, pisces in saturn, and the reprise of the independent artist (predictions) ✧

hi! I hope you’ve been doing well. I’ve been thinking a lot about Saturn lately and I wanted to talk about some observations and make some predictions with Saturn in Pisces transit.

✧ For context, Saturn rules over the signs Capricorn and Aquarius in traditional astrology (in modern astrology Aquarius is also ruled by Uranus). The planet carries out themes of structure, laws, restriction, discipline, responsibility, obligation, and ambition.

✧ Those with Saturn energy more prominent in their chart (for example as a cap/aqua rising or midheaven, in one’s personal planets, a heavily aspected Saturn, etc.) usually feel this weight of responsibility from Saturn often in the form of some karma (wishing you guys love). But usually, the people that do these placements dirty get a much mightier punch from karma than the placements.

✧ Everyone, however, will feel the effects of Saturn in their life most notably during the Saturn return when transiting Saturn returns to its original place in one’s natal chart every 28-32 years. If one puts in the work towards their Saturn placement, they will be rewarded. If not, one will be disciplined (so I’ve seen and heard — I haven’t had mine yet. For an amazing in-depth explanation, check out this post).

Okay, now that the foundation’s been laid, let’s dive in:

✧ Saturn has recently moved into Pisces. Since Pisces is ruled by Neptune and Neptune is associated with the entertainment industry (in terms of illusions and camera and music), I think the recording industry is in for some MAJOR karma. When Pluto was in Capricorn (which it will return to until it goes direct again back in Aquarius) the business side of the industry really choked out the music side. The focus of music as an art and a medium was thrown out for a machine of constantly churning out singles from artists and working them to death. Very money hungry too. However, when Pluto finally settles in Aquarius for good, I think things will shift in the artists’ favor.

✧ I think a lot of the corruption of the music industry will be aired out to the public, with maybe some changes in how the business side runs. The judicial system might get involved too. It has been for a little while now, with more bills in action for songwriters to be paid fairly and more as they are one of, if not the most underpaid people in the industry.

✧ In a way, justice is already coming in with the writer’s strike currently happening too. Aquarius rules change and rebellion, and Pisces can be seen in association with Hollywood. ✧ I also think the route of going independent will be the new normal for a lot of people. But lately, so many label artists have been dropping their labels to go independent to have more creative control over their music and what they put out. Honestly, to release more often too.

✧ For many artists, there are two options: signing to a label or going independent. Having the label’s backing used to be very beneficial, they could get you in rooms with artists, offer you a great push in promotion for your music, act as an in during award season — basically fund your entire career and set you up for success. But today, that isn’t the case. The labels these days are putting all the work on the artists to promote themselves, holding their music hostage if their views aren’t good enough. They offer little to no artist development and are fully dependent on the artist already having a great following before signing them. They’re signing influencers and not artists. Not to mention they take a majority of your earnings from your music as a way to pay them back, they see their artists as a loan, property. ✧ Now the alternative to this is going independent. Here an artist has no label so they’re in complete creative control of their music, and they don’t owe a big corporation money for freedom essentially. However, they don’t have the perks and ins as a signed artist, so it’s much harder to get into the right rooms, get promotions, etc.

✧ With Pluto in Aquarius and Saturn in Pisces, there’s a strong sense of rebellion, change, and individuality. People are getting sick and tired of the same kinds of artists these labels are putting out, it’s not good enough anymore. People are missing good music, music that makes you truly feel something. GOOD LYRICS GOOD GOD (I’m gonna try not to rant on that but when I tell you I’m so passionate about this it’s insane). Also, there are a lot of artists doing incredibly well making great music from the heart that makes people feel, on their own with no label backing.

✧ d4vd originally went viral for his song Romantic Homicide, but he made it in Bandlab singing his vocals into a pair of wired Apple earbuds. The quality wasn’t top tier, but it made people feel something; it felt raw, authentic, an “individual” experience millions could relate to. Now it’s his most streamed song sitting at 600+ million streams.

✧ I think Saturn will reward those who make true music from their soul, that makes them feel handsomely.

✧ I also think there will be a stronger emphasis on community and connections. I think artists will lean into make music with people they like and trust like friends instead of strangers hired by a label, because that’s what they’re more comfortable with.

✧ Also with the sense of community (Pluto in Aquarius), the same could be said for playlisting and music sources and going to new places to find new music instead of traditional radio — which i feel like is already happening. I personally don’t listen to the radio anymore (mind you I don’t have a car) but I don’t even listen to the Spotify editorial playlists either. I get 99 percent of my music recommendations from my TikTok algorithm.

✧ I don’t think the AI shit is going to take off. People freaked out about NFTs and virtual reality and no one says zip about those things now. I don’t think there will be a dip in these technologies but I don’t think they will wreck enough havoc to effect artists and other creatives. The entertainment industry at its core relies on people taking the human experience and making art from it. How can one do that if they are not human? Especially right now when I think Aquarius brings out a strong sense of authenticity and truth that will only be amplified when Saturn goes into Aries.

✧ There might be an increase of older artists in the music industry (25+ years old debuting). Saturn rewards those who put in the hard work and if an artist has been doing so for about 30 years towards being an artist, their reward may be being in the limelight.

✧ Someone else mentioned this in their post here and I wanted to bring it up because I found it so interesting. They mentioned that with Pluto in Aquarius the effects of Leo will also be amplified by Pluto bringing back the need for stars again — I agree with them so much. From my perspective, from now on I feel like being popular and looking pretty won’t be enough, you need to bring something to table. A little two-step or a tune? Please I’m starving. The Aquarian energy just screams for authenticity (I’m saying that word a lot yes I know) but I feel like this in tandem with Pisces’ need for a stronger connection and nothing surface level will really push out an urge for talent.

Alright that's all for right now. I’ll post more general

Saturn observations tomorrow.

see ya soon!

[mlb-a-rewrite]

Miraculous Make No Sense

so I changed how they work.

I love me a well-thought-out and deliberate magic system. I love seeing the different rules and properties of how magic works and I love seeing how the author expands and works around those rules. Limitations are placed, followed, and then explored.

Miraculous Ladybug doesn't do this.

The powers are unbalanced and unrestrained. Miraculous can do whatever the writers want them to whenever they need it to happen. There are no limitations to the powers and the powers don't balance one another out.

This was the first issue I tackled in my rewrite.

Miraculous Overview

I decided that there are two "categories" for miraculous. They are either first or second-ring miraculous. (This is taking inspiration from the miracle box featured in the show and how the miraculous are organized into different rings).

What ring a miraculous belongs to determines how "powerful" it is. All miraculous, regardless of what ring or miracle box they belong to, have the following features:

It is a piece of jewelry

It is connected to and contain imagery of an animal

When a miraculous is worn by a person, the person will be granted, regardless of what ring or miracle box the miraculous belongs to, the following items:

They will now be able to see all Kwamis (regardless of miracle box or ring affiliation)

A unique phrase that will allow them to transform between civilian attire and hero attire

If a person is transformed, they will:

Get a magic girl costume and a magical girl transformation! The costume combines elements of the wearer's personal tastes and the animal associated with the miraculous

Have general enhancements (i.e. they are faster, stronger, have quicker reflexes, etc. but mental capabilities remain unchanged; if they’re dumb as fuck they stay dumb as fuck)

Have a magic weapon/object unique to the miraculous that serves at the housing unit of their special ability

One power unique to their miraculous

All miraculous have the attributes featured above, however, a first-ring miraculous grants the wearer 2 additional special abilities that a second-ring miraculous doesn't.

Special Abilities

In the rewrite, the special ability unique to the miraculous is how I am classifying the powers of each character. Cataclysm, Lucky Charm, Mirage, Venom, etc. are all the special abilities of each miraculous.

Second-ring miraculous have temporary special abilities. If the fox miraculous wearer casts Mirage and then detransforms, Mirage deactivates the illusion dissipates. However, first-ring special abilities are permanent (with one exception, more on that later). So when a ladybug wearer uses Restoration ("Restoration" being the new name for the "Miraculous Ladybug" power seen in the show) and then detransforms, all the damage they just repaired stays repaired.

Powers are also draining to the wearer. The bigger or more precise the use of the power is, the more physically draining it is. It takes a lot of strength, both physically and mentally, as well as a deep connection with the miraculous/kwami to use it for a wider range of uses. It is pretty easy for a black cat wearer to activate cataclysm and let it do whatever it wants, but it is more difficult to control that damage to a certain area or to destroy tougher materials. This adds more restrictions to the powers and gives the characters something to work on.

First-Ring vs. Second-Ring

For second-ring miraculous, there is only one special ability, hence why the fox miraculous only has mirage, but first-ring miraculous have multiple (why the ladybug miraculous has lucky charm and miraculous ladybug and de-evilize/deakumatization and-). This is because first-ring miraculous are more powerful.

I think of each miraculous wearer as having spell slots. For second-ring wearers, they only have 1 spell slot and 1 spell in that slot they can use. For first-ring wearers, they have 3 spell slots with 2 spells that are permanently stuck there.

To use an example from the show:

Any wearer of the ladybug miraculous, regardless of any differentiating factors, will always be able to use "Lucky Charm" and "Restoration". However, that third spell slot can be switched out to fit the situation. This third slot is there to be able to counteract and balance out other miraculous. So if a wearer of the ladybug miraculous thinks the wearer of the butterfly miraculous is using akumatization for nefarious reasons, that third "slot" would acquire a "spell" that directly combats akumatization, which is where the de-evilize ability in the show comes in.

This third ability only exists to combat other miraculous. If, for instance, a ladybug wearer is fighting in a war, the third ability won't make them bullet proof or something because guns are not a product or feature of a miraculous. The third ability only develops to counteract other miraculous.

In addition to that, this third ability only develops as a result of intense emotion. If a ladybug wearer just dislikes another wearer, the third ability isn't going to manifest, but if the ladybug wearer truly believes with every fiber of their being that another miraculous is being used for evil, then the ability will form.

So in the show, Marinette doesn't gain the ability to de-evilize right away. Only when she gets deeply and emotionally invested in the battle does that third ability form.

The final bit about the third power is that you can only use one third power at at a time. Going back to the spell slot analogy, you can have multiple spells you know how to use, but because there is only one slot available, you can only "equip" one spell at a time. When a spell is replaced with another, its effects disappear. Since two of the spell slots are permanently taken up, there is only one "customizable" spell slot.

Final Notes

Miraculous are all about balance. All miracle boxes have 2 rings, and the first ring only ever have 2 miraculous. These miraculous are always opposites and balance each other.

Which is why it makes no sense that Ladybug has so many fancy ass powers and Chat Noir only has cataclysm. Like what??????? So I ended up severely limiting Ladybug's powers and adding more restrictions and clarification. I also wrote in a new power for Chat Noir but this is already long enough so I'll save those details for a different post. :)

[polarisbibliotheque]

Nemesis (Vergil x Reader) - Chapter 7

Nemesis

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: The Abyss opening is a rare occurrence. In his youth, Vergil wanted to harness its power, but never thought he would meet his greatest adversary along the way. Years later, the Abyss is once again open and that might call for some rather unlikely alliances.

Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 (you are here!)

Age restriction: 18+ - there’s a lot of blood, violence, cursing and all those things people want to forbid younger audiences of seeing. Also, cosmic horror is a thing here. Procceed with caution

Special Credits: Our dear Ovid is a character created by @furyeclipse and, even when they don’t show up, I’m crediting and thanking forever ^^

You can check out Fury’s writing (which I highly recommend) on this link:  Fury’s Ao3

Author's notes: I TOLD YOU GUYS I HAD A NEW CHAPTER READY *party ensues* hahahaha jokes aside, I hope you like this one. I'm very happy to have Dante on the bandwagon :3

Also, 7 is my lucky number and I'm all happy like "hohoho of course chapter 7 had to be Dante's highlight, 7 is always the best" as if I'm not the one writing this thing. Your pocket writer is a goof.

Thanks a lot for waiting so long and I hope you guys enjoy it!! A lot more to come and I don't regret the feels ;)

Chapter 7

“Two strawberry sundaes, extra berries.”

The barwoman stared deeply into Dante’s eyes, questioning everything about that man. He didn’t have the scent of a full human, but there was something not so quite demonic about him. Nevertheless, the way he dressed, the way he carried himself and the imminent threat in his eyes was directly opposite to his request.

“Well, sorry, darling. Over here, we have only things for grown-ups.” Her answer, though, was mellow and alluring, the same way her whole posture seemed so inviting and hypnotic as she leaned on the counter. “I do have some berries, but they come with a price.”

“Oh, really? And what would be that price then?” Dante leaned a little on the counter, but his arm never left your shoulders. You were actually starting to question why he seemed so protective over someone he had just met.

“The strongest drink on the house, sided by the rarest and most delicious berries you and your babe will ever see.” She looked at you, winking at both of your interests. “Not from this world, definitely forbidden but… Deeply alluring.”

“The taste of sin, then.” As you spoke, she let out a singsong laugh – beautiful albeit threatening. “I’ll have it.”

“Yeah, I’m in as well. Make it two.”

“You won’t regret it, darlings.” The woman winked once again, leaving to prepare your drinks.

You leaned by Dante’s side, still protected by his arm. You had a perfect view of the entire club: dancers of all genders entertained the guests, the lights bled in all tones of red and pink, sometimes broken by a deep blue or a tinge of purple; satin couches adorned with gold painted wood made everyone comfortable and tables looked like marble. The bar was made of a patchwork of mirrors, reflecting its guests and preparing their sins.

You had to admit, it was quite a nice place. Dante said the Love Planet was the best in town, but if they weren’t smart, they would soon be surpassed by The Devil’s Den.

The only issue was the people who seemed to go there: the scent of demons was quite strong, even to your human nose – for Dante, it was almost as bad as the first layer of Hell. Not all demons looked menacing, but many of them had ill intentions in their eyes. A few humans were clearly unsuspecting guests of demons who lured them in, not knowing where they were getting themselves into or what fate held in their future.

You were certain none of those people would leave that place alive.

“The humans seem to be quite clueless.” You finally said, winning a nod from Dante.

“Yeah, somethin’s going on here…” He muttered back, scanning the club as you did. He counted at least five humans among all those people – not much, but if he was there to save a single life, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so. “The ones with human guests are more powerful than the others.”

“How do you know that?”

“See how they’re behavin’?” Dante leaned into you, pointing at some of the people with guests. The other demons didn’t dare get close or even look at the humans who were there as per invitation – they looked, carrying lust in their eyes, but they wouldn’t act upon their desires. And that was very uncharacteristic of demons. “They do that ‘cause of hierarchy. They won’t dare touch something owned by a powerful demon…”

“Unless they are more powerful than the demon who possesses it.” You nodded slowly as Dante eyed you with interest and a fun sense of pride in his stare. “Codex Daemonica. Everything I know about demons comes from the encyclopedia.”

“Ha! Now that’s new!” He had a sudden fun smile on his lips, as if he had just heard a name no one mentioned in years. “Gotta agree with ya, it’s the best way to learn for the first time.”

“Oh, you know the Codex then?” You giggled, quite interested in that. When you mentioned to Lady, she had never heard of it – and it didn’t seem to be something common among devil hunters.

“Of course. By heart, babe.” Dante let out a small laugh; his eyes going back to scanning the club. “But, it doesn’t beat workin’ on the field. Bein’ book smart can only get you so far when fightin’ demons.”

“I would drink to that if our drinks were already here.” You agreed solemnly, knowing he was right. The Codex gave you a lot of information, but fighting a demon for the first time in real life was always a lot more different. You could know everything about the creatures you were up against: it seemed like your brain blanked out and the only thing left was a raw instinct of survival.

You were brought from your thoughts as a demon leaned on the counter a little close to you and Dante pulled you even closer. You didn’t argue, patiently waiting the demon leave with a couple of drinks and Dante’s arm around your shoulders relax a little.

“Sorry ‘bout that, but I don’t want those things to know you’re a human. It can make our job a lil’ more difficult than it already is.” Dante winked at you, making you furrow your brows.

“Why wouldn’t they…?” But as soon as you were asking, you finally noticed something different in his eyes. It was always there, but you ignored it as he was easy to be around – and he was Lady’s friend. “Are you… A demon too…?”

“Eh, not really…” Dante’s answer was a little dragged, somewhat uncomfortable – for the first time in that evening. You furrowed your brows even further. “Half-half. But it’s enough to mask your scent.”

Half demon – that was interesting. During all your time hunting, you had never heard of a half human half demon being before. Looking into his eyes, though, you could see Dante wasn’t lying: there was something of threatening in there, sure, but there was a humanity you couldn’t always find even in the eyes of humans.

“That is enough for me.” Your answer was quiet but set in stone. Once more, Dante looked at you, remembering of someone his heart would miss every single day. Someone who doomed himself to where their father was born.

“Here you go, darlings.” The barwoman came back before he could say anything, though, slipping your glasses in the counter and making your hands meet the dark magenta drinks adorned with berries of all kinds. “Enjoy.”

You and Dante exchanged a look, as if asking each other if it was safe to drink. You giggled a bit, taking the glass between your fingers – but Dante was faster and took a sip before you could even think about doing so.

“Hmmm, Hell Berries. They’ll give you a rush of heat, but they’re safe.” He nodded as you smiled in return. Who would’ve known? Dante drank it before you did so he could see if it was safe for a human or not. Demons could be kind too.

“Ooof, they’re strong. And quite tart.” You let it down your throat, allowing a tiny laugh right after. “I like it.”

Dante smiled in return, taking another sip. He figured you would. Vergil used to like it when they were kids too.

“Well, well, I think all of us are excited for tonight, right?” Someone stepped on the main stage, with all the lights focusing on them. A devilish smile adorned the red lips, exuberant clothes with the chest almost uncovered, short hair slicked back, drawing attention to the pair of vixen golden eyes. “After all, it is time, my darling friends. Today, oh today, she will rise and take this world alongside us!”

You glanced Dante, seeing as he threw the very same look at you. Both of you had one eyebrow raised, wondering the same thing: who was she?

“But of course, to do so, we will need a few friends from the audience! C’mon, don’t be shy!”

Of course, as you and Dante expected, the dancers started gathering the very few humans present in that hellhole – leading them to the stage. They had only smiles and happiness upon being invited to participate, but as the hunters you were, there was only suspicion in your hearts. Slowly, you both left your place at the bar and made your way to the stage – ready to fight when the situation called for it.

“So many beautiful specimens today, she will be so proud…!” The phrase was crowned with a breathless sigh. “The best of the best, I have to say, we will all be wonderfully rewarded!”

As you walked alongside Dante, no demon dared touch you. You noticed the man in the red coat by your side barely seemed to notice – seemed – but it was very obvious no one wanted to get in your way.

“Who do you think is she…?” You muttered to Dante as soon as you stopped in front of the stage.

“No idea…” He shrugged, as his eyes turned into ice cold skies. They reminded you of something, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. “It has to be someone strong… And who likes this.”

The humans on stage were being handcuffed on the stage poles, while the dancers made it all a delightful show – not only for the demons, but the humans as well. All creatures in the club were enjoying themselves, you had no doubt – and maybe, just maybe, the demons wanted to have a night of pleasure instead of murder. You and Dante could be wrong.

After all, you could list a few demons from the Codex who were summoned with orgies, so… You never knew.

“But then why would people disappear…?” The question was more for yourself. Not used to hunting with someone else, you wouldn’t really stop murmuring to yourself.

Dante just glanced back at you. The way you carried yourself, the way your brows furrowed while keeping a serious gaze on stage, stoic and proud… It made his heart ache. You murmured the main questions after having a storm of deep thoughts in your mind, just like his brother used to do.

“Oh! No! Don’t cry! You will love it, I promise!” Both of your thoughts were interrupted by the velvety voice on stage – the demon clearly enjoying themselves while brandishing a glistening dagger, already lightly running it on a victim’s neck: the crimson blood slowly making the demons let their animalistic side out. “You’ll enjoy everything for your blood offering, my darling!”

The loud crack of a shot cut through the laughs and silenced the room – the dagger, flying away from the demon’s hand, who just stared back at you both in utter shock.

“You know, there’s a thing between humans called consent.” Dante’s voice finally raised from the back of his warm gun; his cold blue eyes glancing at you with some amusement. “Isn’t that so, y/n?”

“Consent and boundaries. I think murder is usually out of people’s pleasure lists.” You crossed your arms, raising your head with pride, still staring at the demons on stage. The more Dante looked at you, the more he saw what he had lost. “Usually.”

“Eh. I’m not countin’ the sick ones.” He shook his head, gracing you with a slight smile hidden in the corner of his lips.

“Well, if you both want your fifteen minutes of fame, we can surely have some space for you here.” The stage demon had rage in their reddish eyes, annoyance being a very mild word for their feelings at the moment. “She will not be impeded by human hunters like you.”

And you now had a problem in your hands: all inhuman beating hearts in the club were ready to tear yours and Dante’s apart. You finally had your sword ready and Dante held the hilt of the Rebellion – its skull showing its fangs at the demons, ready to claim their blood.

With that sight, the stage demon narrowed their eyes at Dante, carefully analyzing as you started defending against the demons ready to slash your throats. You, no doubt a human, fought with grace and viciousness, carrying a style that few beings would – even among demons, you were too precise, technical and, at the same time, fluid when killing. Dante, in the other hand, favored heavy attacks, using all the strength he needed to wield a heavy sword like Rebellion… A sword that no human could carry with such ease. Even so, you both seemed to have a coordination as if you had fought side by side multiple times – a connection that made him complement your gaps as you balanced his faults; something so utterly human.

A human heart beating with demon blood. And when a demon managed to scrape Dante’s face – something that only happened when he put himself in the way of a blow that was meant for you, even if it would just hurt and not kill – there were any doubts left.

“The son of Sparda…!” The stage demon gasped, widening their red eyes.

Those whispered words felt like an incantation that made some demons stop and stare in awe, as others ran in despair and the rest seemed to be even more bloodthirsty while laughing in a frenzy.

You furrowed your brows, finishing a demon and spilling its blood on your face, while turning your gaze back to the stage to understand what in the hell that demon was talking about.

And their red eyes were locked on Dante – while the man just beheaded a demon who tried to take your life as you tried to make sense of what was going on. As he swinged his sword to get rid of the excess of blood, you saw Dante’s teeth slightly elongated in fangs, his eyes filled with a spark you had only seen once.

“Took your time.” His comment was in a sneer of pure condescendence, confirming what the demon had just said.

Your head spun while you were plunged back into battle by a creature who jumped right at your neck. So, Sparda was real. It meant the legend of him closing the gates of Hell were also real. You never really doubted his existence, but you doubted the rest of the legend – his adoration for humans, his love for a human woman, something that resulted in children of their own: half human, half demon.

Half-half. Just like Dante.

“Hey, y/n! Can you get those people off the stage?” Dante looked at you from over his shoulder, holding back a demon who had its fangs locked around the blade of the Rebellion.

“Sure! What about you?” Your head was spinning, yes. You had a lot to talk about after that fight – but, right now, you had to finish your job.

“I’ll hold these sorry fucks back!” With that, he pushed the demon back and buried his sword on its throat – the floor and his clothes now stained with dark red blood. “Can you handle it alone?”

“I was about to ask you the same.” Your answer was murmured in a dark tone, while you barely looked back at him. In a matter of fact, your eyes were fixed on the demons between you and the stage.

Dante glanced quickly to respond, but his words found draught. You held your sword with both of your hands, bending your knees while your eyes analyzed your enemies like prey. As quickly as your human pace could, you ran through the demons, slaughtering them without blinking and with no hesitation – quickly reaching the stage and swinging the blood off your sword as you went up the stairs with a calm but harsh pace, head held high as the stage demon stumbled back with your approach.

Dante had only seen one person fighting like that in his whole life – not even Trish had those mannerisms.

“You stay back, filthy human!” Now the stage demon wasn’t so sure if they could survive an encounter with you. Your face was smeared with blood, your eyes as cold as ice. “I will not allow you to destroy everything we’ve worked so hard…!”

“What interests me the most…” Your tone was calm, your eyes permanently trained in the demon’s red stare; head held high with a tint of arrogance while you cleaned your sword from the dark demon blood. “Is that any blood would be enough for this kind of ritual. But you, demons, always have a thirst for human blood, don’t you…?”

Your calmness was petrifying. In all its life, the demon never had to deal with a human like you. They were used to emotion controlled humans – something so characteristic of that species – but there you were, acting like a cold-blooded hunter and killer. It was scary. A lot more than the demon thought it would be.

You took the demon’s shock as an opportunity to set free the humans closest to you. Cutting down the chains of the first two, they cried as they saw themselves saved from the horrible fate they thought would be their doom – if the tears were from terror or joy, you wouldn’t know.

Before you could finish what you were set out to do, though, the stage demon ran towards you with rage in their blood red eyes. Grabbing the closest victim you let go, you placed your sword in their hands.

“Use this to free the others. When you’re done, throw it back to me, got it?”

The human couldn’t even say no. They shook their head frantically, holding the heavy sword with both hands, questioning how you managed to make it seem so effortless. With tears in their eyes, the human ran with their mission to accomplish, while you got ready with your hands close to your face.

Before Dante could do anything else, you sucker-punched the stage demon right in the face, making it stumble back in awe.

“C’mon, babe.” You had a smirk in your lips, while making a few moves of martial arts, taunting the demon who now didn’t know if they ran from you or killed you with their bare teeth.

The fistfight didn’t last long, though. With that diversion, the demon didn’t even care about the human setting the other victims free – making it so easy for them to run away. As they got down the stage, Dante made sure he would be able to protect the humans, holding back the demons who were in a frenzy with the thought of losing their sacrifices.

“Through the back! Go!” Dante screamed over his shoulder, eyes tinged with a slight red glow. The victims didn’t even think twice: running towards the door Dante signaled before, soon they were all free.

Your sword laid on stage close to your feet – but not close enough for you to easily catch it. Seeing this, the stage demon made sure you wouldn’t be able to get it back. As you struggled, Dante was finally done with the demons from the club – the others, having ran away from all that carnage – running towards the stage without thinking twice.

“Hey, y/n! Catch!”

As you heard him scream, you punched the demon once again so you had an opportunity to turn around and catch whatever it was that Dante threw at you – and as you did, you saw the glistening silver of one of his guns flying towards you.

Catching Ivory in the air, you locked and loaded as Dante stopped right by your side – aiming Ebony just as you did with its counterpart.

“Jackpot.” He had a slight smile on his lips, grave voice declaring it was all over. The stage demon found their end as you both shot in unison.

It had been such a long time since Dante did that with someone else by his side.

**

To be continued...

[books]

Writing Workshop Week 3: Stories of a Place

Hello again, my very talented writers of tumblr! I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed reading your work. I’ve seen such stellar craft happening, and I’m eager to see where you’ll take this next prompt.

In week 1, we focused on a single object. In week 2, we attended to the objects in our environment. This week, we’re considering the environment as a whole—setting.

One of the reasons I’ve chosen this order specifically, small to large, is because setting can become overwhelming. But last week we already practiced it in our real environments by observing our surroundings, and putting those details into our work. Setting is not as huge and amorphous as it may seem—when it comes down to it, setting is the interaction between character and place. Notice I didn’t say that setting is the place itself, and that’s because a place is meaningless without grounding it in the personal stakes of a character. It’s like walking around a grocery store and not putting anything in your cart. A setting only exists to hold its contents. 

Setting can refer to the largest and smallest of places: universe, galaxy, planet, continent, country, city, home, bedroom, pillow fort. Setting can also refer to time: millennium, century, decade, year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second. 

In writing, not all of these things have to be defined, nor should they. The difficulty in setting is the negotiation between our lived reality—in which we have all of this information at all times—and the restrictive nature of writing, in which we not only control all these variables, but we also have to organize and convey them. In reality, events can occur simultaneously. You can drop a plate at the same time you get a text message. But in writing, even if those things happen at the same time in the lived reality of your character, you have to convey the plate dropping and then the phone vibrating in consecutive sentences, linked usually by the word “simultaneously.” Your reader then retroactively crafts those moments happening at once in their memory, but there is a brief moment between those two details where the reader knows the plate has dropped but not that the phone will vibrate. Just as a film is restricted to the width of a camera’s lens, writing is restricted to the sentence. As immersive as writing can be, it is still always a constructed thing.

When it comes to setting, you not only have control over all these details, you also have to figure out the order of information those details are conveyed. Which brings me to…

Decision Fatigue

One of the reasons people think fanfiction is “easier” than original fiction is because there are fewer decisions to make. You have an established universe to play in and so you don’t have to pull up a name generator to figure out the name of your protagonist, or however you make those choices. But that’s not true—fanfiction requires a different type of decision-making and therefore a different (but equally difficult) skill set of creative thinking. The analogy I like to use is a playground versus a beach. On a playground, the equipment is already there, but you can use it however you want. On a beach, you have to decide what to bring with you. One is not inherently better than the other. It’s all play. 

I say this because I’ve coached a lot of writers who are transitioning from fanfiction to original fiction. It can be jarring to go from the playground to a beach. And so I see a lot of writers succumb to decision fatigue—the exhaustion of creativity. You have to decide what kind of car your character drives, how old they are, where they live, what they do for a living, their relationships, the conflicts of those relationships, their educational background, and so on. Creativity is making decisions. And that’s why it’s hard.

Relevance

I would argue that setting is the most difficult series of decisions to make. Our entry into a new piece is generally a character, a premise, or an image. Or, as we say on Tumblr, we put a guy in situations. That guy’s environment will affect him and his situations, because that environment will either help or hinder him in some way. A meet-cute, for example, is nearly always related to setting.

I remember doing my first generative workshop on setting. It sent me into a spiral I couldn’t climb out of for four years. The spiral was this:

All narratives, even narrative poems (as opposed to lyrical), exist in a time and place, and the author has control of those factors. The more specific those details are, the stronger the story becomes. The specificity of those details is rendered in imagery. Ergo, I have to develop my imagery.

And now I’m going to tell you the result of that line of thinking so you don’t fall into the same trap: I wrote a totally unpublishable novel. It was too long and not very interesting, and both of those things happened because I was more dedicated to developing my setting than my story. 

Although that was great practice, it kind of sucked to spend an entire year working on something only to put it in a drawer and never look at it again. What pulled me out of the spiral was dedicating myself to narration—I decided I was only obligated to describe that which my narrator observed. And because I didn’t want to bother with setting anymore, I made a character who was totally oblivious.

(We’ll be looking at narration next week.)

I began to view the setting through a character rather than around a character. My narrator was narrow-focused and obsessive, so I was only obligated to write that which came into the one-lane bridge of her attention. In other words, I only wrote what was relevant to her. And the only thing that was relevant to her was the object of her fixation. 

The big caveat here is that a story isn’t always obligated to its narrator. That’s a choice I’ve made for my own work, because I’m interested in narrators and the development of voice. My prose will never be beautiful or floral. I’ll never have the patience to lovingly describe what it’s like to live in Ohio. I’ll probably only ever write a character who has driven past the HELL IS REAL sign a dozen times and who maybe has strong opinions on corn. It’s the best way I can find to help me avoid the decision fatigue of building an entire world. 

Prompt time!

For this week’s activity, I’d like you to think of a place you really love. This can be your home town or the house where you grew up or wherever has brought you joy. (Remember: love inspires.) 

Next, I’d like you to write 3 facts of public information and 3 facts of private information about that place. 

Public information is anything that can be found, either by researching the place or visiting it. This could be factual—population, square footage, location. It could also involve community knowledge, like legends, cultures, or customs. It can also include major historical events. If you were to show this place to a total stranger, what would you tell them about it? This part may require some research. 

Private information is what can’t be known by anyone but you (and maybe the people who were there with you). This includes memories you have of the place, secrets, unknown histories; anything that can’t be understood unless you have intimate knowledge of the place or lived there during a particular moment. 

For example, when I taught in the South, I had a lot of students who had lived through Hurricane Katrina. They were all young children at the time. When I had them do this activity, many of them chose to list facts that anyone could find about New Orleans in August of 2005—that there were over 1300 casualties, that Katrina was a Category 5 hurricane. They also shared things that no one else could know, about their families housing total strangers whose homes were destroyed, about living for days or even weeks without electricity. About why their parents chose to stay rather than leave, or leave rather than stay. About loved ones who had died.

Once you have your 6 things, I’d like you to write a piece based on them. Here are some ways you can approach it:

If you want to write nonfiction, tell the story of one of your private pieces of information.

If you want to write fiction, write a story using at least one of the public pieces of information. For example, you can tell the story of a legend, or make a legend up. Or you could do something similar to what we did last week, where you take those three pieces of information and weave them in.

If you want to write a poem, try to capture the sense of place by using one or more pieces of information, either private or public.

If you want to write something experimental, write a story about a piece of private information from the perspective of the place itself. 

You don’t have to share your 6 things (unless you want to). While you’re writing, note the details that emerge naturally while drafting, what becomes relevant to the story versus what doesn’t. Like our previous prompts, allow yourself to lean into associative thinking and make connections with your memories.

Questions? Ask ‘em here before EOD Tuesday so @bettsfic can answer them on Wednesday. And remember to tag your work #tumblr writing workshop with betts if you want her to read your work and possibly feature it on Friday!

And, for those just joining us: @bettsfic is running a writing workshop on @books this month. Want to know more? Start here.

[thewebcomicsreview]

Happy 10/25, the third most important religious holiday in the Homestuck Calender, and we got a new HS2 to celebrate, focusing on one of the new kids. The new kids were one of the parts of Homestuck 2 I actually liked, so let's see how the new writers handle them! With a Jailbreak reference, apparently.

Wait, hold on, deep lore: thespiansGlamor is Harry, glutinousGymnast is Tavros. RecidicivousGainsayer and gavageCunctation are names we haven't seen before. GC fits into the AGTC DNA theme of all the screen names we've seen so far (it's Terezi's acronym), and RG doesn't. They might be random NPCs, but they might also be foreshadowing. Also, neither Rose nor Kanaya appear to be on their daughter's friendlist, unless they're under the scroll bar, but maybe that's not weird.

What, uh, what did she draw the key with, HS2? That's her blood color, but she's not bleeding.

Also, who's narrating this? This has been a question in HS2 all along, but the narration here calls attention to itself more. It's much more "Homestucky" than HS2's had been.

We even have narration describing conversation, which is something HS2 has never done and HS1 restricted to carapacians.

You suggest to Vriska that you should go the other direction. Vriska says nah this is definitely where we wanna be. She says between the two of you, you've probably got enough luck to take this whole place off the map if you really wanted. You ask her what the fuck she means by that. She says you know like with your Thief of Light powers. You tell her you don't have anything like that. She says huh, weird!

Oh FFS now I have to go look up if post-Retcon Vriska met Aranea, her own dancestor who was not a Thief of Light. That's such a weird thing for Vriska to assume, that Vrissy not only has Vriska's powers but has mastered them. Also, I wonder if this narration style, besides being a Jailbreak reference, is because the new writers aren't confident writing the HS2 characters yet? Or maybe they just don't want Vriska/Vrissy dialogues because they're kind of hard to read.

I like these expressions. I also like this continuation of Candy Lore, that all the HS1 characters see Candyland as a "fake" universe and that's part of why they fucked around so much and got so fucking weird, whereas we see here that the actual Candy Natives do not see their planet as "bootleg". The fact that the HS parents don't think of their own children as entirely "real" is actually super fucked up, but I guess Yiffy's got the main right of complaint there.

I like that Vriska, who can fly, still makes Vrissy give her a boost. What a jerk!

Vriska says now THAT sounds like some shit a REAL Vriska would say! You roll your eyes and start to leave when Vriska calls out to ask if you're going without wishing her good luck. As you start to wish her luck she cuts you off and tells you to keep it, as she already has aaaaaaaall the luck she needs. You say okay dude.

I don't know if the original HS2 writers intended for the resolution of the "Vrissy kind of idolizes Vriska" subplot to end with "Vriska's so fucking Vriska that Vrissy is disillusioned within literally minutes", but it's honestly kind of funny and I like it.

JANE: From the conversation recovered from Egbert's phone, we've learned that Roxy has been... conspiring alongside the rebels for months now. Operating a lab deep within the ruins of the Troll Memorial Meteor, she and her coconspirator Calliope are preparing some kind of super weapon they've dubbed "The Plot Point". JANE: Heretofore referred to as The Point.

This feels a little like shade.

JANE: Let’s get to The Point!!

A lot like shade.

It's a little convenient to the new team that they took over right when HS2 was starting to actually go somewhere, but regardless, that was a neat page. I got a soft laugh out of it, the plot is starting to move, and there was some decent worldbuilding.

[chipsncookies]

I wrote Akio's backstory 🦊 I'm not a writer, i just wanted to get this story out of my head (I've already settled on it but writing is hard and drawing it would take too long). There may be grammar mistakes but i hope it's still understandable. I hope you'll understand more about Akio after knowing about his past. Please note it contains pokemon death and brief description of gore. Enjoy!

It all started when Akio was a zorua. He was born and raised in the icelands, but the condition there was so harsh he always wished he could settle somewhere else.

By a stroke of luck, he was found by a human boy who came to that place for some errands, and instead of fearing pokemon, he thought akio was really cute and decided to take him home. He put akio inside his satchel, making sure to be very discreet about it because his dad would not approve of it.

The boy would help his dad in the fields during the day, then go home to akio, bringing food. He keeps akio in a chest so he won't be found (the kind that's in Jubilife houses).

The boy is the son of a farmer, he had to help with field work and had no time to play, and he's also socially awkward so he often feels lonely. But meeting akio changed that, it feels like he's getting a friend. Even though people think of pokemon as a pest, he found akio very cute and delightful.

Akio has always been adventurous, and he prefers the village a lot more than the harsh conditions in icelands. He doesn't know a lot about humans except he was told to always avoid them, and adult pokemon would chase them away whenever they meet one, but with this boy akio feels he can trust him. After all, why not? He accepted him and took care of him. They bonded easily and became friends.

However, this would not last long.

One day, with terrible luck, akio somehow was seen by his family member, and they chased him out. Akio not understanding anything, ran out of the house. The villagers are shocked to see him, because they're strict and would never let pokemon in. They also have never seen a pokemon like akio, as most zorua and zoroark live in the icelands. They started to chase him. Eventually akio got caught, and they began investigating where he came from. They finally traced him back to the source: the boy's house.

Akio is trapped inside a net that restricts his movements. He struggled with all his might, but couldn't break it. He's scared and confused, and he tried to call for his friend.

The villagers are angry that someone broke the rules by allowing pokemon in, they are absolutely forbidden because the villagers didn't want them to eat their food reserves, which are already scarce, and especially since winter has already started.

They demanded explanation from the boy's family. The boy's dad is an important person to the village, he's their most hardworking farmer so this is a big issue for them. He vehemently denies it, saying he would never allow pokemon, he's hardworking and always helps in the fields. He urged the boy to say something to defend their family.

The boy, paralysed from the turn of events, looks at the angry mob, looks at his dad who's defending him, and lastly at his tiny friend struggling in the net.

He turned his head away from akio and said with a trembling voice, 'I... Don't know how it got here, it's not mine.'

They managed to convince the villagers that they were innocent. Akio, not understanding what's happening, cries for the boy. The boy covered his ears, akio's cries hurt him with guilt.

Having failed to find the one responsible of bringing him inside, the villagers assumed akio gets inside by himself with his pokemon ability or something. Feeling mad it was able to get in despite their measures, and paranoid it would come back in the future, the villagers decided to punish him: by killing him.

The boy is shocked to hear this, he didn't expect them to take such drastic measures. But he can't say anything, otherwise they'll find out he lied. He went home and cried. His family thought he was just shocked from the events, and they tried to reassure him, but it's useless.

After the deed is done, the villagers threw akio's body outside the village, his blood trickling onto the snowy ground below, leaving a trail.

But as soon as the guy who disposed of him turned around, the corpse begin to move, unnaturally and grotesquely, increasing in size and breaking the net that wrapped it, until there stood a creature with thick wispy hair, sharp claws and teeth, and bitter eyes, shaking with rage and desire for revenge. Akio is reborn as hisuian zoroark.

Back at home, the boy is still crying out of guilt and despair. He only wanted a friend, and he got one, but he betrayed him. He basically killed his best friend. He sat mourning by the chest that housed akio before. The zorua always slept in there, and when he came home and opened the chest he'd always see akio with bright yellow eyes waiting for him, eager to play with him. But those days are gone.

He was too heartbroken, he didn't realise the chaos outside. But then, everything went quiet. And then he heard the door being opened. The boy, wiping his tears and slightly dizzy from crying a lot, looked at the door. Akio, now a zoroark, stood there, eyes fixated at him.

The boy wiped his eyes again, trying to see clearly. Slowly, his brain registers the creature, which makes him freeze with shock, confusion, and fear.

But slowly, his eyes catch the details (he could not turn away), the familiar light grey fur, still visible even with all the blood splatter, and more features that he recognised. The boy immediately realised it's akio, his friend in a different form, whom he betrayed.

He broke down and grovelled at akio's feet. He asked for forgiveness, saying how he regretted what he'd done so much. That he was a coward and selfish for not saving akio. Between the sobs, he offered akio to take his life, as exchange for how akio lost his.

The boy closed his eyes, ready for akio to end him. But instead of pain, he felt a light pat on his head.

The boy is confused. He opened his eyes and saw akio smiling at him. And then akio turned around and walked away, leaving the village forever.