#when i wrote my capture the flag fic

[lunarluvbot]

saturday sun

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

pairing : percy jackson x fem!reader

summary : a little surprise percy springs on you turns out to be one of the best afternoons at camp. or maybe that's just because you're with him?

requested : yes / no

willow's whispers : first pjo writing cause everything i see is for luke so if you want something done right you gotta do it yourself !! also im pretty sure this can be read for any godly parent. based on the song saturday sun by vance joy. I WROTE THIS IN ONE SITTING SO YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO JUDGE HOW BAD OR SHORT IT IS. I'm building up for my big fics.

warnings : literally nothing this is the most boring fic ever

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Where are we going?" You laughed, blindly following Percy as he helped you over a fallen log.

"Oh, just somewhere you'll love," He said, and winked. "At least I hope you do. Anyways, c'mon!"

The pair of you marched through the woods of the camp, laughing, talking, teasing, and enjoying moments of silence. The sun blinked lazily between branches of giant pine trees as if Apollo was comfortably stretching out on his throne.

"Here, stop here." Percy turned to you and gave you that smile that made you fall in love a little more every time you saw it. If that was even possible. "There's a pathway over here, be careful 'cause there's a lotta rocks over here."

You followed him once again, down a narrow sloping hill and arrived on a shoreline. A small oasis even. It looked like it hadn't been touched in years, moss grew over everything, the grass was bright and stood tall as if no one's footsteps had ever crushed them down yet. Waves gently lapped the rocks and few shells scattered across the ground.

"Wow," You breathed, almost as if your normal volume would disturb this angelic peace. "When did you find this, Perce?"

Percy, who was flattening the weeds to sit on, looked up. "Huh? Oh, two days ago. During capture the flag. Then I came back yesterday to make sure some monster didn't live here and now I'm showing it to you," He finished setting up his bed that would make any Demeter kid cringe. "C'mere," Percy motioned for you to lay next to him.

You smiled and made your way over to him, easing yourself down on his patch of grass. The two of you were on your stomachs, watching the water swirl into memorizing, glittering, patterns. A sweet silence filled the air.

But the water wasn't what Percy was interested in. He just kept his eyes on you, admiring the way your face lit up when you heard your favorite bird call. The way your eyes seemed to shine in the golden god's light. The smooth curve of your lips that twitched when you smiled.

You met his eyes, the sea-green hue a painting of where the sky and the sea meet.

"Do I have something on my face?" You asked, lightly teasing him to pretend you weren't about to do the same staring as he was doing now.

Percy's eyes glinted and the wisps of his hair caught the sunlight perfectly. "No, you're just the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Art's gotta be appreciated right?"

"I guess but shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"Aw hey, quit stealing my line!" He said, poking your stomach. A giggle escaped you, one Percy knew he would fight any number of monsters to hear again.

"It's not your line! Where's your copyright claim?"

Instead of answering right away, Percy wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close. He tucked a fly-away strand of hair out of your face and pressed his lips gently to yours. It felt like the first breath of spring, when the flowers peek from their earthly shield and remind the world that only precious things take time.

"It's right here."

And he kisses you again.

[thelukesalvez]

Luke Alvez x Reader: What You Deserve

Description: Feeling undeserving of luke's attention and affection.

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: low self-esteem, negative self-talk, internalized fat phobia

A/N: I wrote this back when I was super insecure about my weight (i.e. this is how i felt about every guy i dated). but just saying i lowkey hate the insecure plus-sized reader trope and want to write better plus-size reader fics in the future, but this is all i have to repost for now!

You were ten when you sprained your ankle on the playground at school and wound up at the doctor’s office with your mom. The doctor was nice and distracted you from the pain in your ankle with some funny jokes. He even let you listen to your own heartbeat with his stethoscope. 

But at the end of the visit, once you had a splint on your ankle, he turned to your mom and mentioned the term overweight.  

“She’s on the high end of her age’s weight class,” he said matter-of-factly. And maybe it was just a simple matter of fact. You’d never thought much about your weight before that day. You were happy. You loved to play- especially outside. Your favorite game was capture the flag, but it didn’t matter. You were active and healthy. 

Your mom listened to his advice intently, because he was the professional after all. Who was she to question his word on your health? And when you get home you were immediately placed on what she calls a diet. 

“That means no more ice cream after dinner, and we’re going to cut back on the popcorn, too.”

And maybe the doctor was right, you started to think, as you took a long look at yourself in the full length mirror behind the bathroom door that very same night. You pinched the skin protruding from your stomach and watched as the fat around your thighs jiggled. Maybe you were too big, too fat. You thought of your friends at school and for the first time, (but certainly not the last), you found yourself wondering, why don’t I look like them?

“The diet will help,” your mom told you reassuringly.   

Except it doesn’t. Instead, you wound up gaining more weight, this time at a rapid pace, because you’ve found that when Mom says you can’t have ice cream after dinner, you wind up sneaking into the kitchen after she’s gone to bed and eating it anyway. But you don’t stop there. You eat some of the watermelon that’s left in the fridge, too, and some crackers from the cupboard. Just enough from each box so that she doesn’t notice, but enough altogether, that you go to bed with a full, aching stomach. 

This becomes a pretty standard part of your nightly routine until your mom caught you digging through the pantry one night, while she had come downstairs quietly for a glass of water.  

The look on her face was shock, followed quickly by disgust. You felt embarrassed and ashamed and humiliated. 

“I can’t believe you’ve been doing this,” then, “it’s no wonder you’re gaining all that weight.”

…

You’ve always had a difficult time loving yourself, you’ve always looked in the mirror and not necessarily liked what looked back at you. Sure, there were days where you thought to yourself, I look pretty today. But in the back of your mind there was always that voice that would add, for a fat person. 

When you’re in your twenties, you finally break the habitual pattern of binge eating that you’d been doing since you were a kid. As you ticked off the number of days it had been since a binge, you sighed. You really would have thought that by stopping consistently overindulging, you’d lose the weight. But that wasn’t the case. Instead, your body has plateaued. No more dramatic gains or losses- it just is. The weight, for the most part, stayed on.  

By your thirties, you’d come to an understanding, a blind acceptance, with your body. You didn’t always like it, but you appreciated it. Neutrality, your therapist had encouraged. And that was good enough. 

Regardless, you had other things going for you besides your looks and your weight. You had a great job and infinite career goals to focus on. Not everything had to be about being beautiful and desirable, you learned.  

…

Your favorite thing about being part of the BAU were your coworkers. You never expected how close you’d get to them, but before you knew it, they felt more like your family than anything else. Something about constantly facing life-threatening situations with one another created an everlasting bond encased in mutual trust. 

You and the rest of the team had a rare evening off, which normally, you’d spend waiting skeptically by your phone, convinced that you’d get called in for a case any minute. But not tonight, Emily had promised. All cases were on hold until the morning. You were sitting at home, contemplating what to do with your precious time when the text came through.  

It was Tara messaging the group chat, asking if anyone was up for drinks and a night out. It didn’t take long before Luke’s name came flashing across your screen next. It was impossible to ignore the butterflies fluttering rampantly in your stomach as you read the words that he’s typed. 

I’m in, he said simply.  

Luke was the newest member to have joined the team. Just months prior, he transferred to the BAU from the Fugitive Task Force. As soon as Emily brought him into the conference room, you knew all bets were off. He was tall and handsome, with a clean cut, thick beard and dark skin. While he was given personalized introductions, you had noticed his bicep flexing as he extended his arm out to shake everyone’s hands. When he was introduced to you, his large hand engulfing yours and his dark eyes scanned the length of you, and you knew instantly that Luke Alvez was a catch.  

It was pointless and childish and arbitrary, and you knew it. But you couldn’t shake it, no matter how hard you tried- no matter how many times you told yourself he’d never be into a girl like you. A fat girl like you, the voice in your head said. You tried to challenge that voice- fought back and argued with it occasionally just like your therapist had encouraged, but it still found ways of insisting that you weren’t worthy of attention or affection from someone like Luke. 

So, before your insecurities could convince you to decline Tara’s invite that night, you typed back a quick, I’m in, too. 

…

It turned out most of the team decided to join your night out. And it was fun, or it would have been, if not for the critic in your head being abnormally loud.  

Look how skinny JJ looks in that top- you could never pull that off. 

Don’t eat the nachos, they’ll think you’re fat. 

Eat the nachos, because if you don’t, they’ll know that you know you’re fat. 

As always, it was exhausting and all consuming- a never ending battle in your own mind. And while you knew your team didn’t give a shit if you ate the damn nachos or not, you couldn’t stop obsessing over it.  

You tried your best to enjoy yourself- to push those thoughts to the back of your mind, but it took effort. 

Tara had picked the spot, it was a small pub that serves drinks and food. There was music, but not so loud that you couldn’t hear each other talk. You sipped your vodka lemonade, the straw pinched between your thumb and pointer finger, and watched as Emily and JJ were taking on Rossi and Matt in a game of pool.  

Across from you sat Tara and Spencer. They were having an in depth conversation about Jean Piaget, when suddenly, Luke slid into the empty booth seat beside you. Your senses were instantly overwhelmed momentarily by his cologne, strong but not overpowering. His arm brushed yours, the warmth from his skin sending an electrical current through your entire body. You tensed up, if not just from the shock of it all. But as soon as you let your guard down, the voice in your head crept back in. He can feel how fat your arm is- pull away. So you did. 

If he noticed, he didn’t comment. Instead he smiled, his white teeth on full display. “Having fun?” he asked. 

You took another sip of your lemonade and nodded. “Yeah, it’s nice to have a night away from..” your voice trailed off as you thought of the word. 

“Crime? Murder?” Luke smirked. “Serial killers?”

You chuckled, “How about all of the above?”

Luke nodded. “They say crime never sleeps, but we finally will tonight.” He set his drink down and scratched his beard in contemplation. “I’m thinking at least eight hours tonight.”

“Eight hours?” you gawked, “You’re living large!”

Luke laughed. There was a brief pause in the chatter, and you took another sip of your drink awkwardly. You were about to make a joke about the competitive pool game going on in front of you between Rossi and JJ, when Luke leaned over and said quietly, “You look really nice tonight.”

You faltered, you didn't know how to answer, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to look up at Luke’s gaze, because you weren’t sure you could handle it. And while you knew that you should say thank you, you only curled into yourself as if what Luke said was just a snide, nasty remark. Compliments like that were so foreign to you and you felt like you didn’t deserve them, so you had a hard time believing that what Luke had to say was actually genuine. You knew he wasn’t the type of person to ever poke fun at another, but wasn’t that what made the most sense? He certainly wasn’t hitting on you- so maybe it was a pity remark, or just a way to fill the awkward silence. 

You ended up just offering him a curt smile, pretending that you didn’t see the way his face fell. 

…

You were happy most of the time. Not as carefree as some on the team, but still. You joked with Tara and Emily and had meaningful conversations with Spencer. You asked Dave about his weekends and listened with intent as Matt told you stories about his infinite amount of kids.  

But then there were days where you’re nowhere near that feeling. 

There were bad days. And when they came, they were always so sudden and unexpected, it almost took your breath away. 

You were away on a case with the team in Colorado Springs when you had your first really bad day in a long time.  

The case, for the most part, kept you busy, and for a while you were able to ward off the negative thoughts. Instead of fixating on how worthless you felt, you thought about the four victims that had gone missing in the area, you thought of the Unsub and ways your team could find them. You thought about ME reports and patterns in each abduction, it was enough of a puzzle that you were able to stay occupied.  

But when you were back at the hotel, the rest of your team in their own rooms, and left to your own thoughts, that’s when the quiet consumed you.  

As a child, you learned that the one thing-the only thing- that helped when you were feeling this overwhelming sense of anxiety and dread, was to binge. It helped you stuff the negative thoughts so deep down within yourself, that for at least a little while, you were numb to all the pain. 

You knew you shouldn’t- you hadn’t in so long. But just this one time would be okay, right? Only this once, just to feel a little better, and then you wouldn’t do it again. 

The battle inside your own head raged on. You took deep breaths, you tried to journal what you were feeling, but the feeling didn't subside. Only when there was a knock at your door, and you were forced to pull yourself back to reality, did the argument get placed on the backburner. You blinked back tears that you didn’t even realize were there before hastily making your way to the hotel door. 

“J-just a minute,” you tried to make your voice sound normal, like the debate going on inside your mind about what you were about to do would be obvious to whoever was at the door. You quickly wiped your cheeks and brushed your wrinkled shirt off before hoisting it open. 

“Hi,” you managed to smile as you opened the door. 

Luke was on the other side, to your surprise, holding two brown paper bags and a couple of bottled drinks. 

“Hey,” Luke answered, his eyes lingering on your face for a brief moment. You wondered if he could tell you’d been crying. 

“What’s up?” you drawled, as if to politely ask, why the hell are you knocking at my door at eleven pm?

“Everyone else was asleep and I was hungry-” he held up the bag of what was apparently food and shrugged. “Except, I bought way too much, I’ll never eat it all. Are you hungry?”

You gave him a confused look. “I-”

“It’s just burgers, some chicken and some fries, nothing fancy- but I didn’t want to eat alone and I saw your light on..”

You sighed, but then stepped to the side, a gesture for him to come in. Luke gave you a relieved look before entering your room. He headed to the bed, which was the only place to sit. 

“Do you mind?” he asked, motioning towards the mattress. 

You shook your head, “No, go for it.”

You closed the door behind him and joined Luke, barely noticing that the dread in your stomach from earlier had been replaced by a light, fluttering sensation. 

As Luke began unloading the greasy food from the bag, you hesitated. Was this a trick? Was he secretly trying to see how much food you could put away? Was he going to go back and tell the team how much you’d eaten?  

Luke picked up on your apprehension. 

“Is everything okay?”

You don’t answer quickly enough before he asked, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Goddamn these intuitive profilers. 

“Nothing,” you said.  But somehow, Luke heard the lie. 

“I know I’m the new guy,” he said, “and it’s probably gonna take some time before you trust me, I know that. But I want you to know you can talk to me.”

“Yeah.. it-it’s nothing,” you managed to say, because you couldn’t talk. Not about this and not yet. Maybe not ever. 

“Okay,” Luke nodded. “Sometimes, it’s tough being the new guy. I can see how close you guys all are and I just want to be a part of that eventually, you know?” His eyes bore into your own and you caught a glimpse of the sincerity behind his words, and that was when you started to feel guilty for ever thinking he was here to make fun of you. Luke was here for a friend, for comfort of his own.  

You sat on the bed next to Luke and took a fry from the basket. “You are part of it.” You assured him. “Everyone here adores you.”

Me included, is what you didn’t say. 

“You wouldn’t be included in our group chat if we didn’t.”

That made Luke smile, his dimple evident in his cheek.  

He stayed in your room for a while, the two of you laughing and talking throughout the night. You never realized how much you didn’t know about Luke.  Like that he had a dog, for example, or that he grew up in Arizona and moved around a lot once he joined the military. He kept you laughing, his jokes and sarcasm thrown intermittently through his speech.  

You shared the chicken and fries with him, not even feeling self conscious when you reached for more to put on your plate. You were too wrapped up in whatever story Luke was telling and the way his eyes lit up as he talked about the things that interested him, to be insecure. 

Luke took the last drink of his bottled water before sighing. “I suppose I should head back to my room, and try to get a little sleep.” He lifted his arm and looked at the watch on his wrist. “I’m definitely not getting my eight hours tonight,” he laughed. 

You nodded in agreement, the two of you standing up in sync, and you walked Luke to the door. 

Luke stepped into the hallway before turning to face you. “Thanks for the company,” he said.

You smiled, “Thanks for the food.”

There was a brief, awkward silence, where neither one of you knew what to do next. But then, it happened quickly. One minute, you were studying the way Luke’s warm, brown eyes were trained on you, and then, before you could predict what would happen next, he stepped forward, one hand planting itself firmly on your hip and the other cupping your chin. He paused briefly, like he was giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t- and so the next thing you knew, Luke was pulling you closer to his body and his lips were pressing against your own, their warmth spreading the entirety of your body.  

Fat, fat, fat- your mind suddenly screamed. You suddenly became hyper-aware of his fingers digging into the soft, fleshy part of your hip, and wondered if he’d be repulsed by what he felt. But if he was, he didn’t make it obvious. 

There had to be a catch, you thought- some alternative motive for him to be kissing you like this. Guys like Luke didn’t go after girls like you. Fat girls like you, the voice said. 

He just wants sex.  

He’s not thinking straight. 

He’ll regret this tomorrow. 

You pulled away, breathlessly, your heart suddenly racing. Before Luke could suspect that something was wrong, you offered him your best smile. “I should get to bed,” you explained. 

Luke could sense the shift in your tone, you imagined that he wanted to ask what’s wrong, but you were already stepping away from him. Instead he nodded, trying to hide his confusion. “Okay, yeah. G-goodnight.”

“Night,” you whispered before shutting the door. 

…

Luke hoped he hadn’t fucked up.  

That was his first thought as soon as he saw the door close in his face. He bit his lips, they still tasted like you, and slowly backed away.  

His feet drummed against the cheap carpet floor of the hotel as he paced the few doors down to his own room.  

He really thought you’d liked him- thought you’d reciprocated the kiss even.  But judging by the look on your face when you closed the door, he thought that he might be terribly mistaken. 

He didn’t get his eight hours of sleep.  

In fact, he barely got any. Instead, he spent the night trying to figure out where the hell he could have gotten things so wrong.  

When Luke’s phone started buzzing loudly, he felt exhausted and not even close to ready for the inevitably long day ahead.  

Regardless, Luke got ready quickly. The one conclusion that he had come to after contemplating all night was that he wanted to find you and clear the air.  Despite his obvious feelings for you that were now right out in the open, he couldn’t risk your friendship, or making things awkward at work. Once he was showered and dressed, Luke departed the hotel in search of some coffee. 

He remembered that you liked it hot, with just cream and a hint of cinnamon.  This would be his peace offering, an apology for crossing the line, the promise that it wouldn’t happen again. 

…

You were answering a text from Emily on your phone, directing you to go to the ME office, when you heard a voice calling your name.  

Your head snapped up, and there, sure enough, like he was waiting for you in the lobby, Luke came jogging over. In his outstretched arm was a cup of coffee. 

“Hey.”

For a moment, you wondered if maybe Luke really was into you. A kiss one night and coffee the next morning? Surely that meant he wasn’t just looking for a hookup, right? 

You accepted his offering with a smile. “What’s this?” you asked dumbfoundedly.  Could you really be this lucky? Could he actually be interested in you? The butterflies in your stomach started flying rampantly as you quickly got your hopes up. 

“I wanted to apologize-” he said, his head falling, like he was ashamed. “For last night.”

Your heart sank. 

“I crossed the line, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Your friendship means a lot to me-”

And there it was. You were no stranger to the friendship line. Guys used it all the time as a way out.  After going on dates, after hookups- it was always the same response from them when they weren’t interested- I like you but I don’t want to risk our friendship. I really just want to be friends. I’m not ready for a relationship, can we just be friends?

To you that translated as, you’re not good enough for me.  

You were a fool for ever getting your hopes up- for ever thinking that someone like Luke could actually be interested in someone like you. 

You took the coffee and tried not to meet his eager gaze.  

“Don’t worry about it,” is all you could manage to croak out. 

Luke could sense the shift in your tone. “I really am sorry,” he said. 

But you shook your head, and feigned your best smile. You backed away from him, not wanting him to see the glistening tears evident in your eyes.  

Stupid, stupid, stupid, your mind was screaming at you. “It’s fine,” you said instead, your voice cracking slightly just as you turned to leave the hotel lobby. 

…

Luke knew he had fucked up.  

The peace offering that he had made was nothing short of a disaster, and now he’d have to come up with another way to make up for what he’d done. 

That much was obvious as he was left standing alone in the hotel lobby, gazing at the doors you’d just walked out of. 

... 

Three days later, on the jet ride home, Luke could barely get you to even look at him. Not that he had made much of an effort, but still. He wanted to give you space. Hadn’t he done enough damage already? 

He knew he’d have to think of a way to talk to you about what had happened.  Maybe if he just explained himself, you’d understand. 

But how was he supposed to talk to you when you wouldn’t even look at him?

He finally got his chance when the jet landed and the team was back at the BAU. He found you at your desk, hunched over a stack of paperwork. Rossi, JJ, Tara, and Spencer had already left for the night. Matt was gathering his belongings from his desk and heading out the door, meanwhile Emily was barricaded in her office with the door shut. If Luke was ever going to get a minute alone with you- it was now.  

He shuffled cautiously over towards your desk. You gave him no indication that you’d heard him at all, but nonetheless, he cleared his throat before getting too close. He didn’t want to startle you.  

You didn’t even look up from what you’re writing. 

“Hey,” he said. “Can I talk to you for a second?” 

“I can’t right now,” your tone is flat.“I have this whole stack I need to do before tomorrow.”

Luke felt frustrated and dismissed, but he bit his tongue. Instead of pushing, he grabbed half the stack of paperwork from atop your desk and took it back to his own desk. Before you could protest or argue, he sat down and flipped open the first file, ready to work. 

…

The entire floor was eerily quiet. Besides the occasional clicking of keys and scratching of a pen, you and Luke worked in complete silence. 

You felt bad. You really didn’t have to finish all of this paperwork by tomorrow.  That was just your excuse to avoid talking with Luke. But now, it was almost 1 AM and you were nearly finished with it all. 

You heard his pen click and you knew that was his indicator that he was done with his stack. Your heart clenched in your chest anxiously. You heard him approach your desk. There was a sudden thump when he threw the stack back where he found it. 

“There,” he announces. “Can we talk now?”

The man was persistent. 

You set your pen down lightly and sighed. Admitting defeat, you nodded. 

Luke pulled Spencer’s chair out from his desk, which was right next to yours.  He scooted it closer to you. 

Your gaze remained hyper focused on your hands, which were cupped and laid neatly in your lap. Luke ducked his head down, trying to catch your eyes. Begrudgingly, you looked up and made eye contact with him. 

“Listen,” his voice was soft, “I am really sorry for kissing you the other night.”

You groaned frustratedly. “Will you stop apologizing?” you finally said. “I get it, you didn’t want to kiss me. It’s fine- But I don’t need this- this pity.”   

Luke instantly looked taken aback by your frustration, but it was the most you’ve said to him in the last three days, so he took it all in. As your words played back in his mind, he frowned. “I never said I didn’t want to kiss you.”

“Well- whatever you did or didn’t say, I get it, okay? I get that it was a mistake and it didn’t mean anything. It’s fine.”

But Luke continued shaking his head. “I never said any of that-” he protested.  

You remained quiet, but he continued. “I never said any of that. Is that how you feel about it?” he asked, hands clasped tightly together. 

You shrugged. Your cheeks felt hot- you were insecure with Luke’s eyes trained so intently on you. You wished you could just forget this whole thing happened, wished you could just disappear. But Luke kept pushing.  

“Is that how you feel?” he repeated. There was a brief pause. “Because that’s not how I feel,” he said. “I don’t regret kissing you. I like you and I wanted to do it. And I thought you wanted to, too. If I had known you didn’t- I never would have done it. I regret making you uncomfortable, and I regret making things awkward between us, but I don’t regret the kiss.”

Luke’s words swam around in your head, but they were a jumbled mess. You tried to piece them together slowly, in order to process what he was saying. Did he just say he liked you?

There was a part of you that felt like this whole thing had just been a cruel joke.  But yet, here he was- sitting in front of you with the most sincere eyes you’d ever seen, and suddenly, you started to wonder if maybe this was real. Maybe, for God-only-knows what reason, Luke actually had feelings for you- was actually attracted to you. 

“You like me?” you asked, your voice low. 

Luke laughed- like actually laughed- and when you looked up at him, his eyes were squinting as his lips were curled into a wide grin. “Uh, yeah- I thought I’d made that blatantly clear.”

But you shook your head. “I- I didn’t know..”

“I kissed you-” he said, like it’s obvious. 

“I know, but I figured you just wanted to hookup- I didn’t think you actually liked me-”

“But I brought you dinner- and coffee. Did you think I just do that for everyone?”

You remained guarded, because you still couldn’t entirely trust this. “Yeah,” you said. “Kind of, I guess.”

“Okay,” Luke nodded. “Let me spell it out for you then. I like you.” He said each word carefully and slowly. “And I liked kissing you. And I’d really like to date you. And if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. But I’d still like to be friends, and I’d really like for things not to be awkward at work.”

You stared in awe, not able to believe any of this was really happening. You wanted to ask why. Why did this handsome, kind, honest man like you? What made you even remotely good enough for him? 

But you didn’t ask. Because did it matter right now?

“Your turn,” Luke urged. “Since I seem to have such a hard time reading you, can you spell it out for me too?”

You hesitated. You’d never flat out told someone how you felt about them. You were insecure and terrified of rejection. And even though Luke had flat out told you rejection wasn’t a possibility, you were still embarrassed to tell him how you felt. You didn’t like how vulnerable that made you- how open to the hurt that made you. 

But Luke’s smile was so reassuring and kind, you tried not to think too much before telling him quietly, “I like you too. I have for a while, actually.”

He chuckled, which you think might just be your new favorite sound. “So why’d you pull away the other night?” he asked longingly.  “Why have you been so distant?”

“Because- I didn’t think someone like you would ever be into someone like me.”

The moment the words left your lips, you regretted it. And when Luke’s face contorted into a look of confusion, and then hurt, you regretted it even more. 

“What do you mean?” he asked.

You fumble with your words, because you weren’t sure how to explain. “I just thought someone like you would be more apt to go after someone that looked more like Tara or JJ or Emily is all.”

“What’s the common denominator there? Because Tara, JJ, and Emily look nothing alike-”

“You know what I mean,” you protested. “I thought someone like you would be more apt to go for someone-” you paused before saying the word, “someone skinnier than- well... me.” 

Luke’s face fell, but you laughed it off nervously. “Just makes me wonder why, is all,” you said. 

“I like you-” he assured you. “I like you because you’re smart and you’re thoughtful.”

Luke’s managed to scoot his chair increasingly closer to you without you noticing. When you looked down, you realized that your knees were practically touching. The first thing that ran through your mind is, oh my God, your thighs are bigger than his. But you shook the thought away. You weren’t going to let that voice ruin this- not again. 

“You’re intuitive- the best profiler.”

The way Luke was looking at you made everything else melt away. All you saw was him and those unimaginably warm eyes. 

“You’re kind and generous and you make me laugh,” he paused. “You’re beautiful.”

You remembered how soft his lips felt against yours when you kissed days ago, and all you wanted was to taste him again. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait long for your wish to come true. Luke leaned in, closing the gap between you two. Just when he was only inches from your face, he grinned. “I could keep going, you know?”

You ignored him and his cheeky grin and instead you leaned forward, and without thinking, cupped his face between your hands and pulled him closer.  

His lips were exactly as you remembered, soft and smooth and all-encompassing. Luke’s hand landed just above your knee and when you started to wonder whether or not your leg felt fat underneath his touch, you were able to silence it. Who the hell cares? Certainly not Luke, that much you were learning quickly. In fact, you wondered if maybe he even liked it. The thought passed quickly, and you were able to focus on the man in front of you instead- the one who was quickly claiming you as his own. The one you deserved. 

[poppitron360]

Okay so @green-tea217 requested that I share this fanfic based on this post that I made.

I never usually post my fanfics, but I’m feeling brave. This one isn’t finished, but I’ll post the first chapter ‘cause I’m really proud of it. I’m working on the other fanfics that were requested, but I’m posting this one first because I’ve worked rlly had on it.

Summary: Kind of an OC/FanChild fic about my hcs for Percabeth’s kids. VERY Leo/Nico heavy bc they’re my two favourite characters, particularly Leo.

TWs: Swearing, lack of smut (she is a teenager)

Disclaimers: I was still reading SoN when I wrote this chapter, and I am currently on HoH, so if I’ve missed anything that gets revealed later, that’s why. Also I listened to the audiobooks, so if I spell a name wrong, that’s also why, either that or I’ve spelt something the British way.

Chapter 1:

Olympia hated stories.

She hated telling them. She hated hearing them. She hated the way they were often twisted and bent to contain some kind of message. She hated the theatrics of sharing them around the fire, the hushed voices and dramatic tone. And she hated how every story she heard was almost always about her dad.

Olympia Grace Jackson-Chase.

Of course.

For as long as she can remember, people had told her stories about her parents. About her and her birth. How she had been born on Olympus. How Apollo himself had delivered her, and named her “Olympia Grace” so that it would rhyme with her last name. That wasn’t entirely true. “Grace” was the last name of her Auntie Thalia and Uncle Jason. She hated the stories about them too- about all her parents’ friends. They were myths and legends in the eyes of the other campers, to her they were just people who babysat her sometimes. The Cabin 9’ers had been shocked when she’d told them that the heroic son of Hephaestus who had saved the world from Gaea and her evil forces was actually just Little Uncle Leo, and the first Fire User in three and a half centuries isn’t very mythical and legendary when he’s running in from the kitchen, waving a tea-towel at the fire alarm and yelling “Oh shit, the guacamole’s on fire. I set the guacamole on fire. Don’t tell your mom.”

People never wanted to hear those stories. Only the exiting and dangerous ones.

“Percy Jackson fought the Minotaur when he was only ten years old!!!”

“Percy Jackson keeps insisting I tidy my room.”

Suffice it to say, she was sick of it.

“Dad,” she asked, approaching the kitchen table.

Perseus Jackson, the man, the myth, the legend himself, looked up from his comic book and ginned at her.

“What is it, dolphin?”

“Can you… like… not send me to camp this year?”

Her dad frowned, put The Amazing Spider-Man down on the table and leaned back in his chair.

“Why? What’s up? Are the other campers not nice to you there?”

“It’s not that… in fact, it’s the opposite. The attention is getting too much. I wanna learn to fight, but… I’d rather you just teach me yourself. You can show me how to use my water powers.”

“Oly, I know it’s hard, especially as you’re one of the first Legacies at Camp Half-Blood. I can absolutely arrange for you to not go anymore if you don’t want to… but there’s only so much I can teach you on my own, particularly with your mother’s workload. I want to make sure you’d be protected. Could you maybe give it a try, please?”

Olympia was pretty sure she’d been “giving it a try” for the last 14 summers, but she didn’t want to argue with her dad.

“Fine,” she said.

“That’s my girl,” he beamed, “Now, remember to pack your armour for Capture the Flag, I don’t want to have to drive out there and back just ‘cause you forgot it again.”

She sighed and left the room.

She just wished that he had stayed in the car when he’d dropped her off, but no. He insisted on walking with her to the Big House, saying hello to Chiron and generally being a huge embarrassment. It didn’t take long for the crowds of campers to form around them, whispering behind their hands. She hugged her dad, and said goodbye to him as quickly as she could.

She dumped her things in the Poseidon Cabin. She was allowed in both her mom and her dad’s old cabins, but she preferred to be alone to sleep. She did her activities with the Athena kids though, she didn’t want to stand out any more than she already did.

Olympia sat alone, perched on the edge of the Athena table, when suddenly a kid shuffled up next to her. She looked about twelve, with the same grey eyes of her mother.

“What’s your name?” The girl asked.

“Olympia Jackson-Chase,” Olympia sighed.

“I’ve noticed you doing cabin activities with us, but you don’t sleep with the other Athenians? What’s up with that?”

Olympia took a deep breath, and began to explain, “I’m a-“

“Wait. Jackson-Chase?” The kid gasped.

Oh, here we go, Olympia thought, preparing for the usual swooning and/or geeking out.

“Your mother was Annabeth Chase?”

Olympia was slightly taken aback, “Usually, people talk mostly about my father. I’m always “The daughter of Percy Jackson,” never “the daughter of Annabeth Chase.””

“Oh but she’s a legend! She re-designed Olympus! She led our cabin in battle against the Titans! She even held up the sky! I mean, I know your dad did that too, but-“

“She did it for longer. She was under that thing for over a day, he only held it for at most 20 minutes.”

The girl laughed.

“And, if you ask me, she was the one who did all the work when it came to defeating Kronos. Dad did jack shit, just handed a knife to a guy.”

“Exactly! Just because he was in the Prophecy-“

“Nah, it’s a lot simpler than that,” Olympia said, “It’s because he’s a man.”

They sat in silence for a bit.

She never blamed her dad for overshadowing her mom. He didn’t mean to. In fact, he openly hated the stories that didn’t recognise her for all she did. They were so in love, it was sickening.

“I can’t believe she’s, like, my sister.”

The girl gasped, and grabbed Olympia’s arm, “Wait, does that make me your aunt?”

Olympia shook her head, “Don’t bother with family trees, man, otherwise you get into the whole “my dad’s dad is my mom’s mom’s uncle, which makes me kinda my mom’s second cousin, and my dad her cousin-once-removed”- it’s just too much to get your head around.”

She looked directly into the girl’s grey eyes, “My advice, kid, believe whatever bullshit they tell you about the Gods not having DNA, and just try not to think about it.”

The girl’s face fell. “Oh.”

Then she looked exited again, “Did you come out of her tummy or her head like I did with my mom?”

And there we go, Olympia thought. Geez, they didn’t hesitate to ask the really invasive questions, did they?

She took her three-pronged fork out of her pocket, and fidgeted with it, twirling it in her fingers. Instantly, she realised her mistake.

“Why do you carry a fork around and never eat with it?” The girl asked. More questions.

Might at well get it over with, she thought.

“Gift from Grandpa,” she replied.

“A gift from Poseidon? What does it do?”

She sighed again, and dangled the fork over the girl’s glass of orange juice, and let go. It dropped into the glass with a satisfying plop, and then rose to the surface. No, it wasn’t rising. It was growing. It’s shaft elongated, and the prongs stretched to become longer and way more deadly. Intricate designs started carving itself into the metal. Olympia stood up, and grabbed the shaft of the fork just as it finished growing. A three-pronged death skewer of pure celestial bronze. A Trident.

The surrounding campers gaped at her, open-mouthed.

“Woah,” said one of the Hephaestus campers, clearly someone who hadn’t seen the spectacle before.

“OLYMPIA JACKSON-CHASE! NO WEAPONS AT THE DINNER TABLE! CAMP RULES! YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW THAT!!”

“Sorry Chiron,” Olympia called. She twisted a little ring of metal around the shaft of the trident, and it shrank back into a fork. She sat back down.

“It responds to water,” she explained, “get it wet, and boom, Trident.”

She had named it Blue. It was her first word, after all. Or at least, that was the story. Poseidon had given it to her on her second birthday, and she had just looked at it, holding it in her tiny fist, and cried “bloooo!” It was probably just baby babbling, but Dad said it counted.

“So what’s Poseidon like? Do you have water powers too? Can you get me your mom’s autograph? Is your dad really 7ft tall?”

She ate the rest of her lunch in silence, only answering the onslaught of questions from the young camper when she had to.

Cabin 3 offered a pleasant respite from the crowds and the people. She dropped her armour and weapons from the day’s activites by the door and kicked off her shoes.

She looked at herself in the mirror.

(Drawing of Olympia: Art by me)

Her curly black hair, which she’d dyed the tips of blonde, was pulled back into a messy ponytail. Around her neck hung a necklace of leather chord, fourteen different coloured beads threaded onto them, each painted with a different design. Her broad shoulders and thick muscles bulged through her plain navy-blue tank top. Her skin was tanned from spending long hours training in the sun. She had a battle-hardened look to her that meant people often mistook her for a daughter of Ares. But her eyes was what made her stand out most- one grey, like her mother, one green, like her father. Her parents had told her how her birth had ended the centuries-long feud between Poseidon and Athena for good, and she had been given those eyes as a way of symbolising that. Another story. It felt like every part of her body had been attached to a story about something her parents had done. Why couldn’t she just be herself? She had spent 16 years living under the shadow of her parents, she was homeschooled from an early age, and had been going to camp since before she could even hold a sword- the demigod life was all she’d ever known. Someday, she’d get away from it all. She’d sink to the bottom of the Mariana Trench and just study the fish, and she wouldn’t have to worry about people or monsters

Suddenly, she felt something tap her on her shoulder. Quick as lightning, she grabbed Blue and spun around. Blue, still in fork form, was about a centimetre away from the neck of her intruder, who held up his hands in surrender.

“Whoah there!” He said.

When she saw who it was, she lowered the weapon and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Leo!” She cried.

“Hey, how’s my favourite cousin? Or… whatever.”

She looked at him and smiled. Despite him being old enough to be her dad, he was about half her size. With a thin, wiry frame and very little meat on his bones. His wild, curly brown hair framed his pointed face and elfish features. His dark skin was covered in a thin layer of motor oil and grime of unknown origin. He tapped her cheek affectionately, leaving a grubby handprint on her face. He walked over to her bed and leaped onto the top bunk, his legs dangling off the ladder.

“You need to stop growing,” he instructed, “You are getting too big, it’s not fair.”

“You need to stop being so short,” Olympia retorted, then her face broke into a huge smile, “I feel like I never see you anymore!”

“I know, you’re too old for me to babysit now, kiddo,” He complained.

“Well that always ended in disaster anyway. There’s still burn marks on that wall.”

“Did your mom find out?” He asked.

“Nope. Dad told her he just wanted to hang more pictures up. And then he went on a long speech about how nice she looked in that wedding photo, and then took her out for ice cream. I think she bought it.”

“Good.”

They stayed in comfortable silence for a few seconds, and then she asked, “So… it’s great that you’re here and all, but… why are you here?”

“What, I can’t come and visit my favourite partner in crime every now and then?”

“Leo…” Her tone was firm.

Leo’s face was suddenly dark and serious, he paused before speaking, but said, “I think I have news about your brother.”

That was Chapter 1- if this post gets… let’s say… 30 notes, I’ll post Chapter 2.

[ephhemeralite]

writing pattern tag game!

post the first line of your last ten posted fics and see if there's a pattern! thanks for the tag, @ful-crum !!!!!

not quite sure how i got here, real glad i've got more than ten fics posted (if only barely), excited to see how it goes

"Aziraphale bustles back into his shop with all of the energy of a raccoon holding a goodie they never expected to stumble across." – no skin like the skin you woke up in (gomens canon divergence au)

"Ed has spent the vast majority of his life as a pirate. Get as old and experienced as he’s gotten – far older and more experienced than he ever expected, mind you – and you form some opinions, about salt and the sea and the way of things." – and i feel so proud when the reckoning arrives (this is two lines so it's cheating but whatever 💚. very dumb black sails/our flag means death crossover)

"The first time Dick notices himself call for Batgirl and the wrong sibling respond, he doesn't think much of it." – no difference between the past and the ground (dick grayson thinks he's going crazy until he realizes [REDACTED])

"Tommy thinks that finding himself stuck through the Blood God’s sword – stuck through – should come as more of a shock to him than it does." – this is mostly what happens in dallas (au of my dsmp hero/villain major character death series where the major character death doesn't happen but it's still not great! hence the wtnv if he had lived title)

"Wilbur drops onto the couch with a groan and some sort of weird, histrion-type flail." – a gaze blank and pitiless as the sun (dsmp hero/villain au, companion piece to the actual mcd, probably my best piece of posted writing)

"He isn't looking for trouble today, but he isn't surprised when the blade of a sword finds him regardless." – the truth is like a sickle (it'll cut you to the middle) (dsmp hero/villain au with the mcd)

"The flickering lights of the tavern seem soft, in the late hours of the night." – drunk in a field (on dandelion wine) (unfinished 5+1 from a folk witch!jaskier universe that i got super super attached to but eventually let go of because my life kept getting more insane and the concept more intricate)

"Peter had spent a lot of time trying to psychoanalyze Neal Caffrey before his capture." – acquainted with the saint of never getting it right (white collar/batfam crossover, dick grayson is neal caffrey, my most popular fic by a chunk)

"Geralt can already tell that Jaskier plans on dragging them both out tonight, probably with quilt, to force him into a night of 'stargazing and communing with nature like we used to!'" – it could feel like an end (to have to keep going) (immortal/modern times geraskier au fic i haven't read since i wrote and posted it in a day. i think it's contemplations on mortality, helplessness, and the climate crisis?)

"Briefly, he contemplates sitting up on the couch to give himself better lung capacity for his incoming tirade, but figures that he may as well put his vigilante training to good use, and continues to lay back." – more like me (less like you) (technically the second line of an emotional conversation between dick and jason, but the first line was dialogue and it is too early for me to mess with quotation marks like that)

so, full disclaimer that i don't post a ton (no skin was last updated in august of last year and more like me was posted in july of 2021) so a lot of this writing is kind of old, but! i did notice that i've tended to open in media res, but recently i have been incorporating more exposition. i've never tried to make my first lines great hooks — i'm honestly more concerned with giving myself a good jumping-off point than anything else. it also struck me how many fandoms i've written for that i no longer engage with, basically at all. maybe i've just been really focused lately, but i don't think a few of these fandoms would hold my attention anymore! ironically, i'm talking about the more recent fandoms like dsmp/gomens/ofmd and not the older stuff like the batfam or the witcher.

this was really fun, i loved looking back through my work like this!! thank you again ful-crum for tagging me :)! i'm gonna tag @doingthewritethings, @b10000p, and @alavenderleaf !!!!!!

[bratshaws]

goodness gracious 49. brb x oc

a/n: my day hasn't been the greatest, but you know, im going through it and i love this fic man. i really do. i also made a location up *shrugs* idk man lol

check out the fic's playlist made by the sweet @wiipes !!

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: FLUFF, Shells being a fucking menace

chapters:

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25/26/27/28/29/30/31/32/33/34/35/36/37/38/39/40/41/42/43/44

45/46/47/48

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!)

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 

@lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2 @emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @kulicny @winter-run

-

It’s past lunchtime when Rooster and Beatrice get to the Shootout, the large black building is a bit far from the city itself, in a lightly forested area. For him, it resembled an old abandoned military headquarters because of the shape and size,with the woods behind it to add to it.

Northride College was distant, quite distant , a good twenty minutes drive but Beatrice pointed the building out to him when they were driving up to the paintball arena, telling him that while it was far away the trek over from the college to the arena was always really fun.

There are other cars there already, which they presumed meant everyone else had arrived and was waiting for them. Rooster parks the Bronco in the parking spot available, close to one of the large windows that shows the insides of the building and steps out, walking around the car to open the door for Beatrice. 

He had been to a paintball park a few times, when he was in college and the whole paintball craze was the highest, he remembers getting hit in the arm with a red capsule. That bruise stayed with him for weeks but didn’t stop him from having fun the next time.

Beatrice held his hand as they walked to the Shootout’s entrance, the glass doors parting to expose the red and black interior with tons of paintball memorabilia, helmets and different types of guns on the walls. The others were indeed there already, waiting for them on the counter and waving them over as the guy behind it wrote something down, only looking up when the couple finally approached the others.

After a short explanation about rules and what not, the two of them broke their hold to stay in their teams: Team Red was led by Evelyn and Team Blue was led by Hangman, they’d get three rounds but could get extra time if the score is tied. Their main game would be to capture the flag, which would be in a structure within the arena, they had to grab it and take to their side of the field without being hit before the timer runs out.

The teams would go through two separate doors to one of the many rooms inside the building, Beatrice rushing to give Rooster a quick peck before she rushed back to the door the other girls went in. 

Once inside, each team would have a locker room to change into their uniforms which was a lot more padded and protective than any other uniform Rooster wore in a paintball game. Halo and Payback couldn’t join them, Halo took the weekend off to visit some family close by  and Payback had to take his dog to the vet for a check up. Halo voiced her disappointment in the group chat about wanting to join them, while Payback just told them to have fun and sent them a picture of his basset lying on the floor with sunglasses to ‘give them the boost they needed to win!’

The aviators’ uniforms all had a blue velcro strip wrapped on their left arm, the camouflaged pattern was a mix of greens and blacks, the word ‘CAPTAIN’ was written on the back of Hangman’s uniform in big white letters. For someone who was assigned captain, Jake was actually being pretty quiet and not boasting about so much, maybe it was because he’d face Evelyn in this and wanted her to enjoy it as much as he would.

They all put the helmets on after grabbing the guns, walking down a long hallway before they walked out the final door to a small patio like area. While looking from outside you’d see this place was big, it was a completely different thing when you stepped into it. It was a huge forested area with trees and obstacles around, one of them being a large compound-esque structure that stood in the middle of the land with ramps and a tower in the center of the construction with the red and blue flag waving in the wind. He couldn’t see Beatrice and the others yet, but he was looking around in hopes he could notice something out of place.

Thing is, they had the advantage of knowing the surroundings better than they did, no doubt Evelyn was already setting rules for them all to follow. They were given three minutes to come up with a strategy before the game actually began, so they tried to be as quickly as they could while looking at the wooded area.

Hangman told them to separate into groups of three and then disperse once they neared the structure so they could search for the girls nearby. There’s the sound of an alarm signaling their time was up and they had to start now. The sounds of leaves crunching under their feet was the only thing they could hear, Rooster looking around just hoping to catch a glimpse of his girlfriend’s team without success.

When they neared the tower structure, they separated and went to different parts of the wooded area. Bradley was still trying to find Beatrice around this giant place, he knew it was a competition, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t like to see her in any case.

There’s the sudden sound of a shot and a splat, followed by Coyote’s “I’m hit!” coming from the distance and Bradley perks up immediately. They already got one of them in less than minutes, that didn’t bode well for them if he was being honest and he looked around trying to find Hangman and the others. He could see Fanboy partially hidden behind a tree and chose to do the same tactic, pressing his back against a trunk before peeking over the edge.

Nothing, he saw no movement. Not even the sound of running could be heard.

He crouches down to the ground while sighing, lifting his eyes to the pile of fallen leaves in front of him. He stares for a few seconds, narrows his eyes and he swears he sees movement. Now, it could be a small animal, it was a wooded area after all…but he didn’t think it was an animal at all. 

So, he dragged his eyes all over the pile trying to see something that would show him he was right, stopping when he saw the padded part of an arm and the obvious red velcro wrapped around it. Rooster widened his eyes before he pressed the trigger, the colorful blue pellet hitting the person’s arm and a startled yelp breaking from under the leaves, the purple hair of Carmen appearing as she sat up, “Damn it! I’m hit!” she shouts to her other teammates, “God damn it.”

Rooster doesn’t wait long, “Check under the leaves!” he alerts the others, who immediately talk amongst each other before running separately trying to find where the rest of the red team was. He had to admit, that was very smart, using their surroundings as hiding spots was almost a militaristic mindset and he wondered if the person who suggested it was Evelyn.

He almost got hit twice, the pellets exploding on the trees behind him as he ducked behind another obstacle, a tall concrete block with an iron ladder embedded to it, breathing heavily. This was really fun, even if it wasn’t real combat it still made the adrenaline pump inside of him as if he was trying to avoid enemies. Weird that one of the enemies was his own girlfriend, speaking of which he thought he caught a glimpse of Beatrice in the distance, hiding just like he did to avoid getting hit by the pellets.

It took a while for someone else to be hit, this time it was Phoenix, who immediately fell back onto the soft ground with a heavy sigh. She was very close to the structure too and Rooster wondered if the red team had anyone there as a…sniper…per se. 

He looked around before rushing to another obstacle, hiding himself as he heard the wet noises of the pellets exploding on trees and barriers but no one else shouted they’ve been hit so he assumed they were on safer ground right now. 

The red and blue flag flapped with the wind, all he had to do was grab it and run before anyone noticed him and since they were in a literal shootout not far from him he was sure they wouldn’t pay attention. To reach the flag he had to go up the ramp on the outer side of the building then up a ladder that leads up to inside the tower, then reach out to grab it. He had to be fast, knowing that once he did the countdown would start and he’d have just three minutes to reach the blue area.

Rooster fixes the goggles on his eyes, sweat sliding down the side of his face as he makes his way up the ramp slowly and as cautiously as he could. Keeping himself crouched, he looked inside the tower room with his mouth parted behind the helmet, he couldn’t see anyone and the sounds of shooting coming from outside prevented him from hearing much.

Soon enough he hears that another one from the Red team was shot down, but not Beatrice, he would’ve heard if it was her. 

He walks inside up to the ladder, giving one last look behind him as he grips the iron bars, pulling himself upward to the flag room. He gets there and is relieved there’s no one, so no snipers, pushing himself to his feet when he sees the flag moving outside the tiny square windows. Rooster is quick to grab it, furrowing his eyebrows when it doesn’t budge, “Fuck.” he tugs at it, feeling it moving just the tiniest bit - of course they wouldn’t make this easy for them. He feels the thin iron bar slowly sliding out of the holder, even changing his grip angle in hopes he’d be able to yank it out faster.

“Someone’s at the flag!” he heard one of the girls shout.

“Don’t let them get it!” Evelyn’s voice replied and Rooster knew his time frame just got shorter. The sound of voices, his friends’ mixed with the girls’ got louder and the shooting that followed even more. He finally yanks the flag out and an alarm horn blasts above their heads, “He got the flag! Who is it? Is it Rooster??”

He didn’t even climb down the ladder, he just leaped down after placing the flagstaff on the inside of his velcro identifier as he ran out, immediately skidding to a half when he saw Evelyn making her way inside. Both of their eyes widen and Rooster runs the other way, almost losing his balance and barely avoiding getting hit in the back. Hangman and Fanboy were still standing and the Texan shouted he’d cover him as he made his way over to the Blue side of the field. He is quick to avoid most shots, including Shells who was very trigger happy trying to hit him, but ended up hitting Bob instead when the spectacled officer stepped in to give Rooster more time to reach the blue area.

He could see the blue patio where they stood before it all began, still holding his gun up and choosing to use it only if he really needed to. He saw a figure by his side, he couldn’t figure out who it was but the red on the arm let him know it wasn’t his teammate. Rooster just gives one quick look to aim right and pulls the trigger, the dull splat of the pellet on the Red one’s vest followed by a yelp he knew very well made him stop and look.

Beatrice stares down at the perfect red impact shot in the middle of her vest and drops her arms to her sides, “I’m hit!” she announces, earning a ‘fuck!’ from Evelyn in the distance. She wasn’t annoyed, she just laughed while looking back at him, “Nice shot.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine Roos!” she chuckles, her eyes squinting as she smiles behind the helmet, turning her face to where the structure was, “But I wouldn’t stay here for long, Shells and Evelyn will reach you in a minute.” she warns, pointing back to where he could hear voices getting closer. “So go!”

He nods, wasting no time then and running back to the Blue area. His eyes turned to the large countdown clock on the wall outside the Red and Blue rooms, he had a few seconds left. Rooster dared to look back when he heard Hangman’s ‘I'm hit!’ and he knew now he only had Fanboy left to defend him. He had to hurry, he could see Evelyn’s form rushing from obstacle to obstacle with Fanboy close behind, the clock was ticking down.

He yanks the flag from his identifier and stabs it in the little sensor that stops the countdown and announces who won this round, “Team Blue: Victory.” and automatic voice announces, his fallen teammates cheering in their fallen positions on the field. Beatrice looks back at him as he removes his helmet, running his fingers through his sweaty hair as he laughs and she couldn’t help but get closer.

Her own hair is sweaty, but she doesn’t care, she just leans up to him and kisses his lips, smiling when he hums happily against her mouth, “You did great.” she whispers, hugging his neck when he wraps his arms around her waist tugging her closer to him, “That’s one win.”

“Sure is,” he says as he pulls back,kissing her wet cheek sweetly, “Two more rounds to go, huh?”

“Yep, feeling confident?”

He hums as if he’s thinking, tilting his head to the side, then a slow smirk forms over his mouth, “Honestly? Yeah, very.” Beatrice laughs softly at his answer, “Just thinking about the prize I’m going to get when I win.”

“If you win.” she retorts, pressing their lips together again, “You were pretty good but don’t get too cocky.” Beatrice kisses him one last time before sliding the helmet back on,  turning on her heel to go back to the red side of the arena. His response of ‘I thought you liked me because I’m so cocky’ almost made her choke on her own spit, glaring at him over her shoulder and only being able to see his smirk for a brief second, disappearing once he slid the helmet all the way down his face.

Even in the distance she could still hear his amused chuckle.

-

Well, Team Blue won. 

Three out of three and they won fair and square. It was really fun and the aviators were celebrating by picking Bob up since he was responsible to get the flag from Shells once she got hit - after a very dramatic reenactment of the Titanic from the blonde’s part. Since they already got there already past lunchtime, it wasn’t surprising to see the sky turning shades of oranges and purples by the time they were done.

After changing back into their clothes and doing a quick clean up in the locker room bathrooms - with Phoenix joining the girls’ side for that - they all thanked the employees at the Shootout, who in turn told them to come back any time and that it was really fun to see them all shooting each other.

In any other context, that’d be extremely worrisome to hear.

Beatrice waits for Rooster outside the building, crossing her arms over her chest to warm up when a sudden gust of wind hits her from behind. It’s been getting colder now that December arrived, of course it’s not getting impossible like it is in New York - Michael said he couldn’t wait to go back to Cali because the weather at the Big Apple has been insane - but Beatrice’s distaste for the cold weather made it feel much worse than it was.

The brunette lifts her head when she sees Bradley approaching, fixing the collar of his Hawaiian shirt and rolling the white sleeves of his undershirt up to his elbows with a pleased grin. She knew he was feeling himself because of the win, she wouldn’t blame him, but she was indeed curious what he planned to do with his…ticket, “Hi,” she coos, tilting her head up to meet his lips in a soft kiss, “How do you feel, Mr.Winner?”

“I feel pretty good.” he says back, cupping her chin to peck the tip of her nose, “It was a lot of fun, wasn’t it?” she nods, touching his hand when they walk to the parking lot, looking back to check if the others were coming as well. They were, with the exception of Shells and Evelyn who stood on the outer side of the building, with enough distance that they couldn’t figure out what they were saying but Evelyn looked really uncomfortable.

Shells on the other hand was grinning from ear to ear, holding up her fingers as she counted something down before poking her friend on the shoulder a few times. Evelyn just shook her head, then walked away from a still grinning Shells to meet the others in the parking lot, mentioning casually they’d go to The Den now.

Beatrice doesn’t know what happened, but considering how Shells looked from Hangman to Evelyn she felt like she had an answer already. She enters the Bronco and waits until the other cars follow Evelyn’s down the road, with them following suit soon after, “You know, today was really fun.” Beatrice smiles, rubbing the side of her thumb on the back of his hand as it touches her thigh, “I really liked it.”

“Me too, gorgeous.” he says, “I liked even more that we won.” 

“Of course you do.” he squeezes her thigh gently, rubbing the denim-covered soft flesh over and over. His little smile all the way down the road to The Den was way too charming for her to be mad at him, even leaning over to kiss his cheek because he was just too much. Bradley just smiled wider, giving her a side look that could only mean he’d repay her back later.

His eyes however widened when he neared the Northride street and The Den, the large college was dark now - it was Sunday after all - and everyone was either in their dorms or at The Den. He whistled low when he parked the Bronco next to Shells’ Buick, walking out of the car to stare at the large college walls and the tall clock in the middle of the square, “That’s a huge college.”

“Isn’t it?” Beatrice asks once she stands by his side, “It’s a great place.” She looks back to see the others entering The Den and then tugs his hand for them to follow too. There were students inside the food joint, but there were also other people who were either staff or lived close by to The Den and wanted to get a quick bite.

Evelyn asks the owners if they could join tables so everyone could sit down and they were quick to say that they could, so Hangman was the first one to actually get one of the tables and move closer to another, giving Evelyn a smile she slowly reciprocated. Beatrice didn’t know if it was luck or whatever, but they managed to get their table again with their names carved in the wood. 

She smiles, sitting down next to Rooster while rubbing her initials fondly, something that calls her boyfriend’s attention, “What are you doing?” he asks with his chin on her shoulder and his eyes following her finger as it traces the indentations.

“We carved our names in the wood. Well, tried to.” she giggles, “I guess it was something to mark our friendship. We’ve sat at this table ever since.” Beatrice leans back on her chair and rubs the back of Rooster’s hand as their friends talk amongst each other with a little smile on her face, “I’m glad everyone had fun.”

“I know you are.” he whispers back, kissing the top of her head fondly, “You always want everyone to have a good time.” she’d be a great hostess and with her New Years party happening he knew she wouldn’t disappoint. 

It was really nice to see all of their friends connecting, they all had something in common that neither of them knew it. The girls got along with the other officers quickly, Carmen even challenging Coyote to an arm wrestle contest after because she was a bit rusty. The food and the company was really good, Bea could see this happening again to be completely honest.

She leans back against Rooster as she finishes her plate, choosing to watch the conversation silently, her eyes moving to where Evelyn and Jake were seated, the distance between the two was minimal, so minimal she was sure their thighs were touching. She met Shells’ knowing gaze, who in turn brought the glass to her lips to hide her smile and moved her eyes quickly back to where the two were seated.

Beatrice truly hoped that whatever Jake wanted with Evelyn was genuine, she’d have if her friend got her heart broken because Jake couldn’t control himself, he’s been doing good so far so hopefully it won’t change soon. The students having dinner there would sometimes send looks their way, then talk amongst each other for a little bit, it wasn’t as bad as the time she and Evelyn were there thankfully.

She looks back at the darkened college, then towards Rooster, “Hey, come with me for a bit?” she asks, already standing up. He nods in response, not bothering to tell the others they were leaving for a bit since they were too busy talking to pay attention. Beatrice steps out of the Den, the sky was now a deep shade of blue with clouds rolling above their heads partially covering the stars, looking back at Bradley when he stands next to her, “Come on.”

He grabs her hand when she offers and they cross the street, Beatrice leading them past the front of her college and to the side, where the walls were covered with leaves and the concrete turned into an adorned iron fence that was as tall as the walls were. From where they stood they could see the dormitory buildings, some students were still walking around in the road that directed them to other areas of the campus. 

Beatrice curls her fingers on the spaces the iron fence had, smiling as she looks at the building, “My dorm room,” she points, touching shoulders with him, “Was that one, second window to the right.” the light was on inside, meaning it was occupied again, “That’s when I met Shells.”

Rooster chuckles, doing the same motion that she did by curving his fingers on the iron fence to get a better look, “She was your roommate?” Beatrice nods while smiling, “God,I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

Beatrice laughs, opening her mouth as she remembers.

-

Beatrice walks down the halls with a box of her belongings in her hands and her trusty backpack slung on her shoulder, checking the numbers on every door in hopes she could find where her dormitory would be. She didn’t know who she’d share it with, she hoped the person would be nice?

“I think this is it.” she whispers, stopping in front of the door and frowning when she sees it’s partially open. She gently pushes the door to get a better view of the room and immediately stops when she sees a blonde girl putting her shirt on, “Oh! Oh I’m so sorry!” she blushes violently, about to close the door but the girl holds it back.

“Hey, no worries!” part of her face is hidden on the shirt’s collar, her shirt exposes her stomach and part of her sports bra, her blonde hair is askew and peeking out of the shirt, “Come on in, we both have tits, you don’t have to be all weird about it!” Beatrice laughs awkwardly, still not looking at the girl when she gets inside. The dorm had two beds, one on each side of the wall and a desk in between them. The girl’s belongings were all on the floor, she hasn’t taken a bed yet. “Unless you are into girls? I’m super okay if you are–”

“No!No,no! I-I’m not!” Beatrice said while holding one hand up defensively, finally facing the girl who pulled the rest of her shirt down - the words ‘Don’t Hate, Pollinate’ with a smiling bee greeted her - and her lower face was finally exposed. “I-I just,I got—I-I’m Beatrice Schiavoni.” she holds out her hand nervously, watching the blonde woman flick her gaze between her face and her hand, the brunette fearing she was being too nervous for her own good.

But the girl smiles, her snakebite piercings shining under the dorm room’s light, “Michelle Benjamin, but call me Shells, everyone does.” she says as she claps Beatrice’s hand.

“Shells? That’s a cool nickname.”

“Yeah, I tried eating a shell once and my mom had to Heimlich out of me,” she laughs casually, completely ignoring Beatrice’s horrified face, “I was a stupid toddler, don’t worry about it. So!” she spreads her arms as she looks into the room, “Which one do you want? I’m not picky.”

“O-Oh, me either.” Bea laughs softly, adjusting the box in her arms, “I-I can take the one in the left if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure!” Shells just pushes her things to the other side with her foot, then flops down on the bed, leaning back on her hands, “So! Beatrice…” the brunette looks up from where she’s setting her things down to meet the girl’s eyes, “Have you ever been to a Navy bar?”

“Oh, uh, no, not really.”

“Yeah? We gotta go to the one my aunt has. It’s called the Hard Deck! It’s really cool.”

Beatrice blinks in surprise at how…sudden this friendship happened, she met this girl ten seconds ago and she was already being asked to go out? That’s new to her, no one ever…did that. She smiled shyly, “I-If she doesn’t mind. I’d like that.”

“Nice!Hey, can I call you Bumblebea?” Beatrice’s face flushes but she nods, still smiling at this sudden friendship, “Nice!!You know,” the blonde pushes herself up to hug the girl around the shoulders, “I think you and I will be great friends.”

-

“She was the one who took me there for the first time and she was the one who helped me land the job.” she says, “And she was the one who always pestered me about you.” 

Rooster chuckles, “I think we owe Shells a lot then. If it wasn’t for her we wouldn’t have ever met…at all.”

Beatrice’s smile softened, “Yeah…” she says, turning her head towards another building and even larger one in the distance, “You know I don’t regret it, anything. I know my family never understood why I stayed at the bar when I could’ve just kept working with my uncle.” she tilts her head in his direction, smiling sweetly at him, “It had it’s pros.”

“Am I the pros?”

“Yes.”

Bradley smirks, “You are just too cute aren’t you?” he asks, leaning down to press kisses to her neck, nibbling the soft flesh as Beatrice giggles, letting go to the fence to wrap her arms around his neck while his own hugged her waist. He pulls back to press his lips to her own, moaning happily against her mouth.

[summercourtship]

Can i just say that i extremely appreciate how you characterize these characters? like… the way you portray them is exactly how i imagine they would act… for example Jonathan (especially nolan!Jonathan) you maneged portray someone that is controlling, manipulative, and possessive (and HOT!!!!), but at the same time he still shows a vulnerable side (like when he is needy hates to show it), or Edward that is so easily passed as an shy and angry nerd, but you capture his temperament and mania so well!!! And Bruce!!!!! seriously you have NO IDEA how hard is to find a fic that Bruce that shows his awkward side!! that makes me star to questioning…. how do you characterize them? like, what goes on in your mind to think what they are thinking? do these questions make sense? i don’t know… but can you tell me the answers?

thank you! omw to give you a lil forehead kiss.

tbh it's really hard for me to describe how I write them just because... I do it. When I was starting this fic, I read various fics and sort of figured out what I liked that other people did in characterizing them vs what I didn't like and went from there. It's also easier for me to write something down and realize it is OOC- there are a lot of lines and passages that get rewritten multiple times because it's not it. Especially with Jonathan, he's the hardest for me to write.

Here is a very basic rundown of how I view writing each character, though obviously it's very bare-bones.

Writing Jonathan is just figuring out what he wants to gain from the conversation/interaction, and then figuring out a way that he can do it that is slightly off-putting but not enough to send the reader running. Everything he does is a red flag, so therefore nothing he does is a red flag (to the reader) because everything can be explained away. I also really love the moments where Cillian Murphy plays him... languid. He takes his time with his movements, not letting other people's schedules affect him. Any other aspects of his character just come naturally with all of the other stuff.

I based a lot of how I write Edward on how Paul Dano wrote him in Riddler Year One, though obviously with my own ~flair~ because that's just how writing works. What helps me is remembering that even though he's awkward, he also managed to convince like 500 people to be ride-or-die for him (and his cause). That, to me, indicates some level of charisma even if he doesn't realize it. Like Jonathan, he has something he wants to gain from each conversation, though he's more willing to let the reader figure him out (it's apart of the game, after all). Also knowing what makes him angry and where his delusions lie is good for those more tense moments.

Bruce is just me when I have to go be social in public. Awkward, but knowing that he has to do it. For Batman, he says as much as he can with as little words as possible. Bruce is the only one who is really trying to keep his secrets close to his chest- I don't think he necessarily wants the Reader to figure him out, even if he wants to be involved with her.

:)

[emmithar-blog]

I was tagged by ,@whyyouacknsocraycray

How many works do you have on AO3?

81 currently. 77 completed, which means I have a lot more WIP than previously thought...

2. What is your AO3 wordcount?

987,989 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Red Dead Redemption. I don't have many obsessions...

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Forsaken (730)

Tears of Ice (372)

Silver and Gold (347)

Brotherhood (340)

Evanescence (328)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do! Though sometimes I've been late on replying (Currently have 14 I haven't responded to yet, but plan on getting to them eventually...)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I have a entire series of Whumptober fics that have some not so happy endings. Though I think Balancing the Scales might take that award.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Happy? What is this 'Happy' you speak of?

In all seriousness, there's a couple I feel that end on a higher note. Forsaken, Silver and Gold both come to mind. I have a few one shots floating around that lighter in humor as well.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I don't think I have on Ao3, no.

9. Do you write smut? If so, which kind?

That's a hard no, seeing as I'm ace. Sorry folks.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest crossover you’ve ever written?

I haven't no. I'm not a huge fan of them.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not on Ao3 no, but back on FF I have. Woke up one morning to a flood of emails from concerned readers flagging a fic that matched one of mine word for word in some areas. Issue was resolved quite quickly though. Bless my readers who kept an eye out for that.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I had some older Robin Hood fic that were translated into Finnish actually! That was a pretty cool experience. So long ago now I don't remember where it was posted (FF I think, and one other site), but it was big thing at that time, esp since I was still in high school.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Several times yes! It can be quite a bit of fun, esp when working to match styles of the other writer(s).

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Once again – Ace, so I'm not too invested in such a thing. That being said, for RDR2, other than canon ships, I do see the appeal of Sadie/Arthur as well as Charles/Arthur, though I write (nor read) either really.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

We're not going to talk about my four unfinished fics, because I'm going to finish them eventually.

When I have time.

And brain power.

And zero other distractions...

Moving on....

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've been told I tend to capture the likeness of certain characters, including dialogue and inner thoughts. I feel like I keep good pacing over longer stories, and that I have the ability to paint vivid scenes to help readers immerse themselves in the story.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I have the inability to write a short fic. Anytime I tell myself 'Oh yeah, that'll only be x words/chapters, it nearly triples in length. Looking at you, Silver and Gold, (aka minibang fic)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done this before with some Spanish when characters were in appropriate situations, where they weren't supposed to know/understand what was being said. I think I've done it once with German, but I could be wrong. I feel it add flavor when done a sparse amount, and not have it be too overbearing for the reader to muddle through.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Lord of the Rings was the first fandom I wrote and actually posted for, though Jedi Apprentice from Star Wars was what got the fanfic train rolling. I rewrote an ending to something that really annoyed me and I felt like I could write it better so I did. That was in the pre-internet era though, so it never made it online. (FF didn't even exist yet!)

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I'm fairly partial to Learning Hurts. It has a mix of what I enjoy (Hurt, comfort, reassurance, growth) and I love the play of the title. Several characters end up learning something over the course of the story, and as implied, those lessons all come with a bit of hurting.

I'm tagging @darling-jack @sentanixiv @danger-r-98-5 . Share if you feel up to it!

[lastshadeofme]

Listen listen

I’m thinking about rewriting season 3 (in some sort of way?) and I’d like to share how it’s starting and how it’s going so far

But for you to understand, i’m writing season 3 with some (big) changes such as in:

Luna has feelings for Simón (they started with this plot, I’m keeping it)

Matteo is a walking red flag (Well, that’s already what he is, but you know changes) and we don’t like him here

Simón has got some crushes over the summer (poor heartbroken little man tried to forget Ámbar (the real love of his life))

And that’s basically all I have for now, but things are gonna be great! (I hope)

And Simón is definitely my favorite character so he’s gonna be written as handsome, wonderful, good and blah blah blah

So here’s what I wrote so far:

« As she listened to Simón tell her about his summer crush, Luna felt her heart tighten slightly. Since when had Simón began to get interested in girls that much? And flirting? She couldn’t tell. Maybe it was because of how things had ended between Ámbar and him—terribly bad—and he needed to move on with someone new to get over the betrayal and pain. Or maybe it was just because he was growing up, getting closer each day to being a man. Luna had never thought about him like that before. Maybe something had changed for her too. And whatever it was that had changed, it only helped her notice how different she felt around Simón now. Slowly noticing his wonderful half-messy half-brushed brown hair framing his perfectly drew face, and his precise, thin jawline. And his so sincere smile. Oh, yes his smile. Luna loved that smile. But there was now something she was seeing that had never capture her attention before. When Simón stretched his arms and the slightly rolled up sleeve oh his t-shirt showed the curves of his biceps, that’s when Luna noticed it. Simón gained some more muscles during the summer. Not that he was ever unathletic—he was quite the opposite—but he had most definitely got in better shape that he was already in. And it was quite a delight for the eyes. »

What do y’all think? Should I make it into a real fic?

[elis-corner]

Challenge time.

Character: Grian

Photo: [ID: Sun setting over a snowy landscape, containing a few houses and trees]

Theme: Fluff! (Bonus challenge: yandere tendencies it as well. This is a bonus challenge and if you can't think of anything that's okay! I can't, it's just there for fun really if you want to but fluff is what I would like most)

I'm glad to have you back, good luck with your assessments, be sure to self care and I look forward to fics and art from you in the future :D

Thanks for the contribution Nix :) The exam is in a few hours and this is helpful in terms of figuring out how to distribute my time, and getting some practice in. For people who didn't see, I have a writing exam I needed help preparing for, and so Nix came down as the angel she is and provided me with a visual stimulus, theme, character, et cetera, and I wrote something using them in 55 minutes (planning, writing, and editing included)

A quick note about the story for anyone who somehow gets confused, this takes place in Season Six. I saw the image and thought instantly about Hermitville. I promise I'm not making things up, and I double checked the facts that are noted here ;)

-

You bend down to look at the glass floor beneath you that in your memory marked the beginning of the Civil War that had ended a few months prior. Though your reflection in part obscures the map, you can still clearly make out the locations of the different bases, the shopping district, and everyone’s bases. Your team–the G-Team–had managed to secure the final flag mere milliseconds before the final death. You close your eyes, so clearly able to see the moment as if it were projected onto the back of your head. The fallen look on your face as you saw Mumbo fall to the floor, Impulse standing proudly over him, his helmet slightly tilted as he raised his sword again to chase you down. The weapon falling from his hand as he glanced at his communicator–your arm was numb and bloodied, and you had not felt it vibrating furiously against your skin; several messages from Grian, each of them reading “FLAG CAPTURED”, followed by Mumbo’s death message. At the very last moment, the flag had been placed on the wall of the G-Team headquarters. You had won and the war was over. And an hour after, once everyone had conversed and agreed it was truly a G-Team win, Grian had pulled you aside, insisting to look at your arm, and not leaving you despite your reassurance that you were perfectly fine. He had grabbed your hand and looked into your eye, telling you how scared he was that you would be badly hurt as the battle began, how when he saw you afterwards it was like an arrow to his chest. He told you he never wanted to see you maimed like that again. And he told you that he loved you.

‘Y/n!’ You are pulled out of your pensive state at the sound of a warm, welcoming voice calling your name. Vibrant reds, yellows, and blues surround you slowly, tickling your skin where the coloured feathers brush against it. ‘How are you, my little bird?’

You turn to face your lover, fingers straying to run through his feathers. ‘I’m fine, I guess. I was just thinking about everything that’s happened in the past few months since we started here.’ You gaze up into his eyes, and you note the excited glare reflecting off them. ‘What did you do, Grian?’

‘Nothing!’ he exclaims in fake offence. ‘I am shocked you would even suggest something so outlandish. But, I do have something I want to show you.’ You nod and he wraps his arms around your waist and back tightly so as to prevent you from slipping from his arms, and he takes off into the sky. His hand keeps your head pressed against his chest, inhaling the fibres of his sweater. You smile at how easy it is to tell where he’s been just by what you can feel against your skin–you can feel the fine, granular texture of redstone rub against you, a clear sign he’s been around Mumbo. You couldn’t help but feel even slightly jealous. Grian had been so caught up in Architech projects that how often you spend good time together has slowly become less and less, to the point at which you can’t help but question whether he really cared anymore.

Slowly you can feel the air around you grow colder, and not long after, Grian landed, though he still held you in his arms. ‘Turn around.’ His grip loosens as his arms fall to his sides. You turn to see a breathtaking sight.

A settlement you could only describe as a village stood before you. Each of the houses have a soft white powder, reflected into various hues of orange and pink by the setting sun, sprinkled thickly across the roof, and the trees are also littered with it. You lean back, and you can hear the satisfying crunch of snow beneath his feet as he comes to stand closer to you. The air is void from your lungs, the words you wanted to say are gone, lost from your lips where they were waiting to be said. ‘I- Did you build this? It’s beautiful, Grian, really.’

‘I wish I could take the credit.’ You can tell he’s smiling at you through his voice alone. ‘It’s a village, though. Not a single Hermit put in any effort into making it.’

‘But it’s so… unique! I’ve never seen a single village like it before. How did you find it?’

‘Ex-eye-suma found it,’ he said, the incorrect emphasis so iconically Grian, ‘and some of us Hermits are creating a bit of a new start over here.’ He begins to walk in a hurry, as if he were being chased by someone for breaking their redstone, and you follow. He comes to a stop in front of a house on your right. ‘And this,’ he smiles at you, ‘is mine. Ours, if you will. If you want, of course, it’s not something you have to agree to, but I just thought–.’

‘Yes, love. It’s ours. Our first home together. Our own little nest in Hermitville.’

[alfalfairy]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks to @thetragicallynerdy for tagging me!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? Twelve, ten for Our Flag Means Death and two for Dimension 20 (Fantasy High)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 206,896 words

3. What fandoms do you write for? Our Flag Means Death and Dimension 20's Fantasy High

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? All of them are OFMD fics!

to be more than this devil inside of me with 127 kudos

bitter like whiskey, sweet like wine with 58 kudos

so much hurt is forgotten with the horizon as backdrop with 51 kudos

fled like sweet dreams, leaving thee to mourn with 50 kudos

drink of the feeling of quiet again with 48 kudos

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Most of the time yes! Although there are some comments sitting in my comments that are from a while ago that I haven't gotten to - honestly, they were too nice and I got kinda overwhelmed.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hmm, I tend to prefer happier endings 😅 Honestly? None of the fics I have planned have angsty endings - angst aplenty within, but not at the end. Thinking about it though, probably fled like sweet dreams, leaving thee to mourn - happy ending was implied, but not explicit.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Hmm, probably has to be drink of the feeling of quiet again, which feels very... summative, in its happiness? Like, it took a lot to get there, so it feels better somehow.

8. Do you get hate on fics? So far, no, and nothing has ever reached me here either 👍🏻

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Nope, that is not my niche.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I have never written a crossover - although when I get into interests, I do think about what kind of DnD races and classes the characters would be. Like, Oluwande as a cleric, and Jim as a rogue.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not as far as I'm aware 🤨

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Nope!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? All time? Well, Jim/Oluwande got me back into fandom, and I'm honestly hard-pressed to think of another ship that I'm that invested in - for most other things, I am pretty casual.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Probably to be more than the devil inside of me. Which is incidentally my most popular fic. I have ideas for how it would end, but I guess I don't want to get super plot heavy with it? If I do end, I worry it won't be satisfying to the readers, but then is it worse to just leave it unfinished?

16. What are your writing strengths? Hmm, I enjoy describing the physical reactions that emotions have on the body, and I realized today that I have a tendency to focus on the ribcage lol.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I worry about capturing dialogue correctly, and readers thinking they would not fucking say that 😅

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I have relied on Google Translate for this, and I've been meaning to go back and update my OFMD fics to use hover/display text for the dialogue in Spanish.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Glee actually, on ff.net. I will die before I say what it was lol.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? I suppose I'm most proud of drink of the feeling of quiet again, as that took a lot of time and structuring. For Fantasy High, I'm really enjoying writing and planning i have a little shadow that goes in and out with me, and I have lot of other what if ideas that are Riz Gukgak-focused that I'd like to pursue when this one is done.

Thanks for the tag friend! Tagging @hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon, @floopdewhoop, @yourlocal-charlatan, and anyone other writing followers interested! No worries if you're not :)

[dormarunt]

Me, at the end of 2021, after the last ever episode of La Casa de Papel ended - that's it, I'm finishing the Berlermo Secret Santa fic, then these last few Berlermo WIPs, but then that's it - the fandom will be entirely dead by, say, spring 2022, so I'll stop writing Berlemo. I'm so excited to see what new fandom I discover and fall in love with in 2022!

Me, at the end of 2022, about a week after finishing two Berlermo Secret Santa fics (and other FIFTEEN Berlermo fics this year) - that's it, I'm finishing these last few Berlermo WIPs but then that's it - the fandom has been mostly dead this year so I'll stop writing Berlemo. I'm so excited to see what new fandom I discover and fall in love with in 2023!

(PS - 2022 was the first year in forever when I wrote non-Berlermo; I wrote two fics for Arcane and two fics for Our Flag Means Death. Still, nothing captured my heart like Berlermo did)

[yorshie]

A wtiting ask from one of my favorite tmnt writers! Hmmm, so many good questions.

6?

Question: What is your writing process? Describe it.

Oh sweet pineapples. My writing process? Bold of you to assume it’s a process Nonnie lol

I get a lot of my ideas when I can’t sleep, or when I’m feeling lonely, or when I’m listening to music. And since I’m the type of person that likes to wallow in the lonely, I live by the motto ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead’, and I’m literally listening to music all the time, the ideas tend to pile up. Whether or not they get used depends on how often I return to the idea and what mood I’m in. 

Most of these ideas are malleable, and they get twisted around a lot instead of used immediately. I know that’s a poor way of explaining, so I’ll include an example on how an idea might go through the wringer:

I stumbled over a writing prompt list on Pinterest last month, and wrote down the following tidbit: (listen to me. You’re trapped. They’re going to take you.) 

Now, shivers, immediate shivers. And then we add the little notes I’d written under the prompt, (two separate notes, meaning I came back to the prompt twice), you can tell I was in a different mindset each time.

The first note is embarrassingly disjointed, but it was: Bay Blue/Reader. Mission gone wrong, open end. Bay Blue is Bayverse Leo, judging by mission gone wrong I can safely assume this was not a happy fic envision, and open end means I thought the ending should remain open, or basically leave it up in the air whether Leo would save reader.

The second note is more explanatory, and I know I was listening to my playlist Orange Creamsicle (its happy go lucky songs like Owl City, CRO, and OneRepublic) because the note began with that, but it went: Orange Creamsicle, DonDon, capture the flag, reader on team with D and R, hides in a tunnel and gets found, looses game. Immediately I know this was a happier version, likely almost comical of Donnie telling reader the other team of brothers had found their hiding spot. Probably will end up going this route when I eventually write it.

Sometimes its notes like above, sometimes it's simple blurbs of text, and sometimes it's just a few names and a song title, but once I warm up to an idea, it goes to my sister, who is the one that tells me yes or no. You guys have no idea how many times she’s gone: “No. Red. No. You can’t write that, that’s evil. You’ll make people cry, and then you’ll feel awful.” Apparently she’s saved everybody from the ‘angst train’ a number of times, as she likes to call it. For reference she likes the second version of the 1st idea, in fact when I mentioned the first one she straight up put her head in her hands and just said “noooooooo”. She’ll also egg me on if she thinks I need it, though, hype me up, problem solves with me so everything flows right. 

And then I write the outline, if the story is long enough to need one. I don’t do chapter by chapter summaries, but I do make sure to plot out things that HAVE to happen, and observations to keep in mind while I’m writing. The most important thing to me is that my stories feel like real people, how one might react in a real situation, and they behave in a way that consistent with how I’m handling the characterization. 

Then I write out everything out once, either the whole fic or the chapter, open another document, and copy write it again, but the second time paying more attention to word choices and descriptors. The second time goes quicker, but it also lengthens the document since I tend to meander and add in unneeded details.

[mariyekos]

I'm currently working on 3 D*MC fics as my mind latches onto different plot points and different ways to explore a character, and man, I really hope I'll be able to finish at least one of these by next month.

First one is my time travel fic that is currently stalled because I'm paralyzed by trying to fix early parts in the story. Some of them I need to change because I didn't realize I'd missed something big/had messed up canon until much later, or because I thought of something good later in the story that required changing earlier parts in order to maintain continuity. There's also the issue of characterization. I have a bad habit of swinging too far to the extremes with emotions, so I'm trying to temper both the characters and the overall mood so things don't feel too crazy. This one's currently 76.3k words. I feel like it'll end around 90-100k. I might cut out a few thousand words and shove them in a different fic as part of the same series because they don't feel super relevant to the main story, but could be a cute aside.

Second one is a fic I feel like I probably won't finish, because I'm hitting the mood of it with fic three and it was the mood that made me want to write it. It's a post-D/MC3 fic about Dante fighting with the increased presence/power of his demon side post-awakening his Trigger. In my daily wordcount doc, my comment when I started it was "obsessive gore time" for some context. It's about feeling too big for your own skin, and the fight between the urges that feel right to half of you but are disgusting to the other half, and how Dante tried so navigate that. 4.6k words at the moment and probably halfway done.

Third is a fic adapting what I wrote in another post that I will hopefully link in a quick edit to this post. Short version is at the end of DMC1, Dante finds Vergil in hell and raises the Qliphoth himself to fix Vergil. This fic also goes into that sort of obsessive mindset, though in a different way. Fic two is Dante going "what is wrong with me?" while fic three is Dante going "there is nothing wrong with me! definitely not! everything is terrible and maybe I'm doing some morally questionable things but hey it'll work out and it's not that bad so it'll be fiiiine (it will not be fine and what he is doing is nor forgiveable, but he's so desperate to save Vergil and not kill his brother again that he's wearing rose tinted glasses as an excuse to avoid all the red flags)". I worked on it today so it's the one that has currently captured my brain. It's currently 3.6k words and nowhere near done. I'm thinking 15k for this one, but I'm really not sure.

Anyway! That's a little look at what I'm working on now. I also kind of want to go back and fix some characterization/writing in the one D*MC Dante & Lady fic I have published so I might do that... I usually don't edit published fics in any way other than fixing typos/weird grammar, but this one is bugging me so I just might. We'll see.

[vethyourhalflingmother]

teenage walmart games??? I’ve been inside walmart maybe 3 times in my life I need an explanation

formal disclaimer: i am not suggesting you do any of these things in a walmart or similar store* even if i admit to having done some of them myself; the employees don't get paid enough to deal with them

-i mentioned in my tags a fictional game of capture the flag. while i think it would be difficult to full-on incorporate nerf guns into this for more than a few minutes irl, i know people play other versions of it in stores sometimes (i have participated on one ocassion & ngl its kind of fun)

-ive personally played hide n seek in walmart more than once (which is a little different than regular hide n seek in my experience, usually the hiding involves moving around a lot)

-walmart has such a wide variety of shit (for those of you who are less familiar, there's a grocery section & a retail section (including electronics, toys, outdoor equipment, home goods, office supplies, furniture). so we also used to play games where we would have a criteria (ex. The Squishiest Thing U Can Find) & everyone would run around in the alotted time to find The Item which best fit it

-there are lots of potential variations off of this. that "three items to freak out the cashier" game everyone always talks about on here & also a quick google search brought up an all-out walmart scavenger hunt & a walmart bingo

-many walmarts used to have a giant "cage" (it was flexible rope) full of those huge plastic bouncy balls. my walmart does not have one anymore. i imagine it's because i (& others) used to yeet the balls out of the cage every time i was there so i could play with them. i havent personally done much more than bounce them while shopping but i have to imagine that people more creative than me have made several games revolving around these balls and their prison

[Image Description: A Walmart bouncy ball cage filled with dozens of giant colorful balls some of which also have pokadot or zigzag patterning. It is taller than the aisles. The balls are mostly contained by roping, but the frame of the cage is made of metal. END ID.]

-idk if this counts as a "game" but when i was a child you could get ear piercings at walmart & it was for sure A Risk

-ive known people who make a game of shoplifting, seeing who can steal what & who can take the most risks without getting into trouble (in my experience folks either know EXACTLY how companies like walmart deal with shoplifters or they don't know jackshit, there is no in-between, my advice is that knowledge is power)

-there are legitimate ways to have fun in some walmarts, ive been to several that have a few (3-5) money-sucking arcade games.

-they also sometimes have fast food places in them, so any kind of havoc you can think of perpetuating at mcdonalds or subway, you can technically do it in a walmart (just a reminder not to terrorize the employees at these places in real life. please. i used to work at a mall subway like i will fight you)

-this is just off the top of my head at 3 am, im sure a group of bored 16 y/os could come up with something really fun

-obviously you can do these things in similar stores but i feel the need to explain the energy of walmarts to those who havent been in them so much. they really do feel like the worst liminal space you can possibly imagine. all the typical social rules and decorum are gone. the rumors about people wearing what they want and doing what they want in walmart are generally very true (yes you see guns on people's backs there in open carry states). the lights are too bright for me in all big stores like that but they reflect off the floors in a way i find particularly blinding. it's also usually crowded unless you're there during work/school hours. recently my walmart went to all self-check, no bags & that made the environment more hostile which i didnt know was possible. if this were a more serious post id explain in detail about why i think walmart gets a bad rep for some classist reasons and why it DESERVES a bad rep for some capitalist ones but since this is funnyman hours im just going to leave it there

-im going to leave off with a question to my walmart-familiar followers: what is the most chaotic thing you've ever witnessed in a walmart?

*except the shoplifting. i always encourage shoplifting

[voidstilesplease]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

Laura, thank you so much for sending this to me even though I haven't written any new fic in a while 🥺. And also, I know this was forever ago but... better late than never? Anyway, here's my favorite 5; four of these are one shots, and one published WIP.

can't believe his luck - steo | 11.5k | 1/1 | T | tags: au - a/b/o dynamics, friends to lovers, werefox!stiles, werewolf!theo

summary: Stiles, Theo, a treehouse, two gold rings, and three hundred sixty-five volumes of Stiles's favorite manga.

notes: this was the last fic I wrote for the ship that wasn't a ficlet for my a-z collection :'( this was written in january

cardinal sins - steo | 4.9k | 1/1 | M | tags: canon divergence, canon-typical violence, supernatural mercenaries!chimera pack, supernatural deadpool, seven deadly sins au

summary: Stiles, Theo, and the vices to end all vices.

notes: this will always own my heart simply for being one of my earlier fics in the fandom. also, the concept of the seven deadly sins, man. it's just perfect for steo <3

enthralled - steo | 4.2k | 1/1 | E | tags: au - vampire, blood kink, prostitution, vampire thrall

summary: “An entire month,” Stiles knew he must look awful - crying like a scorned lover. “You cut me off for an entire month.” But he was done pretending that he wasn’t afraid, because he was scared shitless. Not of Theo – never of Theo and what he was, and what he was capable of doing. But of Theo having enough of Stiles not being enough for him. How could he be remarkable enough for Theo, when he would still be young and beautiful as Stiles withered and died?

“You’re my whore, Stiles,” Theo answered, so casually cruel. “Not my lover.”

notes: this was written to satisfy my vampire lust. also, @its-tea-time-darling read this and thought theo was a vampire in the show. how could this ever not be one of my favorites now just for this reason?

you bet Chiron made new rules after this - steo | 1k | 1/1 | T | tags: au - demigods, demigod!stiles, demigod!theo, camp half-blood, part 8 of the demigod series

summary: In response to: This is weird but a demigod prompt: "we can save water by showering together" after training or capture the flag or a camp tournament maybe.

OR

Theo should've known better than to taunt his boyfriend.

notes: teen wolf x percy jackson. seriously, i had the time of my life writing every single one of the ficlets in this series, but this one in particular stood out. idk. maybe bec i have a shower kink or smth.

there you are, and i run - steo | 32.5k | 5/? | M | tags: au - hogwarts, magic, witches & wizards, slytherin!stiles, durmstrang!theo, triwizard tournament

summary: Whatever the case was, Stiles had concluded to better forget about that night. After all, they might not even see each other in four years, right? He only told his best friend, Scott, about it. But he didn't have to worry about Scott blabbering because he was too preoccupied with his relationship. Stiles could even claim that he was succeeding in his quest to cleanse his memory of the one-night-stand until, of course, the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament.

notes: i need to do lots of editing in this fic, and idk when i can post any update, but this still holds a special place in my heart. harry potter is one of the best things that ever happened in my life, like percy jackson, so being able to drag my teen wolf otp into this world secures a place in my favorites by default.

oops. sorry this got longer than i anticipated.✌️

[blackbat05]

Saw a post and thought I would hop on for fun?😄

- My first fic is <Night talks and Dim Sum> (Shangqi)

: Honestly, writing this also meant a lot of things. For starters, I revived myself as a fan fic writer after like 6 whole years? Also it helped me to cope through my internship as well. Did I forget that through this fic, I met amazing people? #thotsquad🙆🏽‍♀️

- The softest fic is <Home> (Rick Flag)

: What can I say? It was super fluffy and probably everything I ever dreamed of even though it’s very unrealistic. But hey, a girl can dream right? And I love my hot military man being the softest dad in the world!🥰

- The fic I’m most proud of is <Between the lines> (Makkari x Druig)

: I can’t remember when was the last time I was so invested in two characters who weren’t even the mains of the movie?!!! Their chemistry was incredible for those few minutes and the moment I walked out of the theatre, I really wanted to do some justice to them. So - viola! I was really glad with how it turned out because the story could easily have turned cringy if I didn’t write it well.👍🏽

- The fic that shows my progress is <Blue Skies>

: Surprisingly, this was actually part of an event that I took part in? I think why this showed the most progress was because what I wrote about the trapped/isolated genre required me to capture the emotions and intensity of the situation. Similar to <Between the lines>, if I dragged it out too long or if I didn’t explain things well enough, the story could have easily been ruined. So thankfully it wasn’t?😬

- My fav WIP is <Cry of the Hyena> & <Untitled Frank Castle Zombie AU>

: I can’t choose ok! And also it’s because these are the only two WIPs that I have - because it’s both series.😂 But I do love them because they came from me watching K-dramas? I remembered last time I would write fics revolving around K-dramas that had Western movies influence but now, it’s the other way around. I really love how Korean entertainment is showing what their capable of to the rest of the world and this really shows that entertainment can transcend language barriers! (Wow that almost became philosophical HAHA)

No pressure tags! : @tom-whore-dleston @buckybleu @wint3r-h3art @crazycookiecrumbles (and please anyone else who wants to do it! I can’t rmb the tags lmao)