#Adding to the fact I have more freedom here

[callioope]

"Science should be free!" Cool. I understand your point about accessibility. How do you plan to pay the writers, editors, designers, production coordinators, and web team? How do you pay server costs and web providers?

[dcxdpdabbles]

need more mr flavor im thorsty

"You want to buy my soda?" Danny asks again as the man in a suit across from him smiles sickly sweet. They are crammed in the left-corner booth of Anthony's Pasta, with a stack of paperwork on the table.

Danny had just been getting ready to open a shop when this man strolled in wearing the same waxy grin Vlad wore whenever he spoke to his Dad. Danny had been on his guard as the man introduced himself, and while his smile and mannerisms were pleasant, Danny could tell by his eyes that he could not trust the other.

There was no emotion in them.

"That's correct, Mr. Flavor. You see, your brand is starting to stir quite a ruckus. But it's unfortunately, on such a small scale, the trend's popularity will lead to your brand dying out. We at Zesti want to help you reach a bigger audience before that happens. I personally think you have so much potential and I wouldn't want to see it go to waste." The man, Oscar, tells him. He leans back, open body language to try to put Danny at ease.

Danny frowns "My soda is a trend?"

"A passing one unless we don't make the smart choices now. Zesti can help with that," Oscar hinted. He pushes the contract he brought along with him towards Danny. "We'll handle the marketing, distribution, and you will make sixty percent of all final sales. All you need to provide is the tasty beverage."

Danny quickly glances over the contract. At first glance, it seems to be in his favor. But it's dragged out in a package of twenty pages where the wording slowly takes away from his own benefits.

They would handle marketing, but the funds would come from his sixty percent of profits—not all, but a good twenty percent. This left him with forty percent of sales.

Then, Zesti would cover the distribution outside of Gotham. Within Gotham, they would use his money again. That left Danny with only twenty percent of the sales since the other twenty would be used for Gotham distribution.

Since Zesti was going to help him start up, they would ask for a ten percent deposit for the first five years. That way, the sodas could help build a customer base to fund the other two costs.

By page eighteen, Danny would only be making ten percent of the promised income. He thought it was unethical business practices, but the conditions and wording they added to the contract made it legally possible.

Danny just had to sign, and he would agree to the horrid conditions. Now, he didn't really care about the soda. It wasn't like he invented it; he merely brought it over from another world, but it was the fact that they were trying to trick him that upset him.

If he could spot this in a quick read-through, what would he find if he had someone professional look over the contract? Danny bets there would be wording that made him irreverent and legally made Zesti the owner of his work.

They also sent a company representative to discuss legal details in a restaurant. Danny doesn't know the laws of this place (He thinks a lot of Gotham's issues with the Rouges could be solved if they were to include the Death Penalty, but that's just him) He feels a minor shouldn't be making legal decisions without some kind of lawyer.

He knows Oscar is clicking his pen to pressure him to sign as he reads. Jazz would do it whenever she wanted him to sign on for whatever community service she needed.

It was laughable to think that this man was attempting to use the same business psychology that his sister had trained him to notice. Zesti must believe he was an easy target.

"It says here that I would give Zesti complete creative freedom over my soda. How would that stop you from changing a thing about the recipe and then claiming I have no right to the new recipe?" he asks, flipping to page twelve and watching Oscar's oily smile never slip.

"That's just about the bottling and design of the brand. The leaping boy is nice, but we want to clean it up and give it more attention-grabbing details." Oscars assures. He failed to address Danny's concern, which told him everything he needed to hear.

"I'm not interested in selling. Thank you for the offer, though," he tells Oscar, pushing back the contract.

The other man laughs as if Danny has said something amusing. There is a bit of condensation in the undertones of his laughter as if he were speaking to a toddler and finding their confusion entertaining. "I'm not sure you understand, Mr. Flavor. This is an amazing opportunity that others would kill for."

Danny shrugs. "Then offer it to them."

Oscar sighs loudly, shaking his head. "Mr. Flavor, I don't think you understand. This could be what makes you a millionaire, and it's your only chance to make that dream a reality."

"What makes you think being rich is my dream? What if my dream is to become a ghost?"

That finally made the other man lose his smile for only a second before Oscar leaned forward. "Please think carefully. This is the best for you and your brand. Gotham makes people like you disappear from the public eye when a new trend comes by."

"Disappear?" As in intangible? As in ghost? As in Phantom, what part of himself has he been searching for?

Oscar seems to think Danny's wide eyes were because he was frightened instead of excited. Oscar leans back with a smirk, his eyes still hellishly cold and emotionless. It is strange to now always glance into a person's eyes to learn of their true intentions.

No matter how well a ghost hides among humans, they can never disguise their otherworldliness if Danny watches their eyes. He read somewhere that the eyes were the doors to the soul, and after being Phantom, knowing his eyes actually flash with his emotions, he knows it's true.

Oscar may appear human, but whatever humanity there was in him is long gone.

"It would be safer to sign, young man." He says again, this time in a mocking tone.

Danny laughs. "If I was worried about my safety, I wouldn't be jumping off buildings, would I? Have a good day Oscar."

He stands up, leaving the contract on the table, ignoring the stuttering man. Danny has other things to worry about like the restaurant is open for an hour and a line forming at his foldable table.

It wasn't that his soda was that personally important to him, but it was his main source of income. Phantom was still well out of reach despite the amount of life-threatening activities he was getting up to.

Danny even tried to bother the more violent ghosts of the area by strutting into their space while carrying a stupid little tea cup set. He figured they would react to a perceived attack on their pride—instead, the ghosts were so touched that he thought of them.

He tried to get hit by five more cars. One notable incident had him flying into a light pole. He had mistaken the feeling of finally getting his flight back until the ache in his back started.

Danny had even thrown himself into the Gotham River after being told by multiple people that it was filled with chemicals from illegal dumping from some local faculties.

He was starting to think he would never get his ghost side back until a mugger stabbed him in the stomach. Danny had been counting his bills while walking away from a lovely ghost couple in an alley by the old movie theater when the man had jumped out of the shadows, stabbed him, and ran off with his cash.

Danny had fallen to the ground, aware of Martha's scream and Thomas' swear as he choked on his blood. The ghosts were bound to the alley, but they had walked to the edge of it to watch him and felt horrible that they could do nothing for him.

Thomas had looked up at the sky, screaming, while also trying to push against the barrier that keeps anchored ghosts to their death space. "Bruce! Bruce! Please come here! Bruce! He's dying! He's just a kid! Bruce!"

Not sure who Bruce was or how he could help didn't mean anything to Danny when he felt a sort of burst of power from deep inside his chest that suppressed the pain.

The ghost couple had been horrified when Danny's blood had turned green and his hysterical laugh as his wound closed the second he ripped out the blade.

Phantom had healed him, which meant Danny just had to find a way to get Phantom to come back from whatever lock he was behind.

"Are you okay, Danny?" Heather asks him once he walks past the waitress. She glances at the table where Oscar sits, a wide customer smile still firmly on her friendly, open face, but her eyes are guarded. "He said anything strange to you?"

"Nah, he just wanted to buy my soda before Gotham made me "disappear" and die from lack of trend," Danny laughs, swinging open his little cooler. He ignores how she stiffens, and the first customer in line throws a wild, horrified look in his direction.

He lines up his flavors with a bit of hum, ignoring the tension growing in the restaurant. Oscar makes a show of leaving as if Danny will call out to stop him before he slams the door on his way out. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief when he vanishes, but Danny doesn't mind.

He continues on with his day. Let Oscar try the fear tactics- what is he going to do? Kill him? Ha.

Danny misses the long conversation Heather has with Anthony, who later asks Danny if he wants him to inform Red Hood of the threat. Danny laughs it away, packs up his things, and stores the table and cooler in Anthony's space closet.

Despite the warnings of the concerned staff- Danny had grown quite close with everyone there but not beyond occasional coworkers- he left for his motel. Danny attempted to get hit by a bus on the way home and nearly did had it not been for a driver's fast reflects.

The bus driver had been distracted by his phone- which is why Danny had targeted him- but he had waved away his horrified apologies. As Danny entered Crime Alley, he figured being loud and rumbustious like his Dad would hopefully get him shot.

Gotham had a limited amount of patience for loud people. He picked a silly gum commercial jingle popular in his home dimension and skipped down the sidewalks, yelling the lyrics at the top of his lungs.

Danny didn't even reach the end of the street before a van rolled up next to him. He had enough time to look at it curiously as the van door was flung open, and a group of masked men jumped out. They yanked him inside, throwing a gag over his mouth and slamming him onto the floor.

The wheels scream as the van speeds away, leaving Danny at the mercy of his kidnappers. He tries to wiggle up, but a hard thump against the back of his head- likely from the butt of one of their guns- causes him to crumble down.

"This isn't his usual mark." One commented, looking down at Danny with a cold indifference that he could make out from his eyeholes. "They're usually brown-haired, aren't they?"

"Who cares?" Another answer is, "Just as long as we get paid, who cares what they look like?"

Danny stares at him, wondering if anyone in the van knew this person cared very deeply. Their eyes showed concern, guilt, and the right amount of protective intent, and he felt he wasn't in danger.

He had regrets about what he was doing, to the point of betraying everyone here, or he was an undercover cop. Either option ruined his plan of being shot, though, so Danny wiggled about, ignoring the more hits it got him before he was able to have the gag fall down.

"Are you going to kill me?" He asks the group of four.

"No." One laughs. "But by the time the boss finishes with you, you will wish you were dead like all the others."

"Oh, so it's a waitlist kind of thing?" Danny asks, "Is the list by order of arrival, or did the others make appointments?"

There is a moment of stunned silence. Danny swings his head, looking between everyone, waiting for an answer, but when he receives nothing, he sighs, leaning back into a more comfortable position. They didn't tie him up or anything, so he easily crosses his legs under him and cracks his neck. "If we could kill me first, that would be ideal."

"You want to die?" The guilty one asks.

"Correction, I want to be a ghost."

"Damn, the kid is crazy." The last one- the driver- laughs. "No wonder the boss wanted him."

"By boss, you mean Oscar, don't you." Danny shakes his head. "No, wait, don't answer that. I already know it's him. He has the eyes for it. He's the reason the light-brown hair people are missing, huh? Cyrus mentioned it the last time we talked. Bet you he kidnapped that lady in the antique shop. He stared at us for a long time; Susan had to point him out; Susan is the ghost outside the shop. She taught me how to make the most delicious fudge from the rain of Gotham's downdraught youth- which reminds me of the nickname they gave Baja Blast."

No one speaks after his long-winded rant before Danny leans forward, locking gazes with the guilty one. "Have you ever had your Baja blasted?"

"Um, no?"

"You need to man."

"I can't listen to this shit anymore. Knock him out, but watch the face. The boss likes his merchandise clean."

Danny scoffs, twisting his head to snark at the one sitting in the passenger seat. "Just say, Oscar. We both know it's him."

He feels a hard thump on the back of his head, and the words turn dark. He prays that when he wakes up, he'll have snow-white hair and glowing green eyes.

[thedensworld]

Illogical Project | C.Sc

Pairing: Ceo! Seungcheol x reader

Genre: fluff, humor, stranger to crush

Summary: It was just a project to get rid of a side chick, but Seungcheol fall. Deeply.

I was having so much fun writing this! Part 2 yall ask is here

Seungcheol didn’t have to do this. But he needed to do it. Logic flew right out the window the moment he’d typed your name into the company group website. Imagine his surprise when your profile popped up, revealing you were part of the marketing team—under his own label, no less.

The woman sneaking around with his cousin’s fiancé was one of his employees?

Seungcheol let out a dry laugh. Well, this just got interesting. It shouldn’t be too hard to get rid of you.

It has been two years since Jiyeon, his cousin, and Jeonghan got engaged. Their engagement had been more of a business deal than a love story. And although Jiyeon’s engagement to Jeonghan was supposed to be purely transactional, it had been a lifesaver for Seungcheol. Thanks to her, he no longer had to endure his grandfather’s endless nagging about getting married.

But then, yesterday happened.

“Jeonghan’s been cheating on me!” Jiyeon had wailed, storming into his office like a whirlwind. Seungcheol hadn’t thought much of it—Jiyeon tended to exaggerate. He’d been about to brush it off with some nonchalant comment until she hit him with: “I think I’m going to call off the engagement.”

Hold up. What?

That wasn’t part of the plan. Jiyeon couldn’t break off the engagement! Without it, Seungcheol’s peace and freedom would go down the drain. He’d be right back to enduring those endless blind dates set up by his grandfather. Dinners with girls whose names he’d forget before dessert even arrived. Absolutely not.

Which led him to this moment, finding you—Jeonghan’s secret girlfriend. His smirk widened. If cutting you out of the picture meant keeping Jiyeon on board, then so be it. He’d convince you to take your cheating ways elsewhere.

Who would’ve thought his biggest problem was one of his own subordinates?

If anyone could see him now—Seungcheol, the company CEO, scrolling through employee profiles like a suspicious boyfriend—it would be mortifying. But hey, desperate times called for desperate measures. And there was no way he was letting his hard-earned freedom slip away because of Jeonghan’s wandering eyes and your sneaky rendezvous.

*

"Mr. Choi has been acting strange lately," your manager said as she returned from his office, a puzzled look on her face.

"He’s refused every ad plan we’ve pitched to him. And now he’s specifically asked for you to handle it."

Your brows shot up in surprise as you pointed at yourself. “Me?”

“Yes, you. He wants you in his office in ten minutes—with the best idea you can bring to the table.”

“Wait, ten minutes?!” You shot up from your chair, scrambling to find the folder you always kept at your desk. Panic set in as you grabbed your iPad—your lifeline filled with every concept, draft, and half-baked idea you’d ever had. “Why are you just telling me this now?”

Ms. Shin shrugged nonchalantly, already turning her attention back to her own tasks. “It slipped my mind. Good luck!”

You let out a frustrated sigh. Typical Ms. Shin. She was a perpetual headache wrapped up in business casual attire. Just yesterday, she’d dumped her entire presentation prep on you, claiming she was “too busy” to handle it herself. Never mind the fact that you were the one who’d developed almost every campaign concept the department had used for the past two years.

But still, you remained a shadow. Despite your efforts, you were practically invisible in the department—overworked and unnoticed.

As you rushed to the elevator, the thought crossed your mind: Why did Mr. Choi want to see you now?

Was he starting to see through Ms. Shin’s facade and realize where the real work was coming from? Your heart raced with a mix of excitement and anxiety. This could either be a breakthrough… or a complete disaster.

Jeonghan used to tell you a lot about Seungcheol, his college friend. From what you’d heard, Seungcheol was the embodiment of professionalism. He wouldn’t judge you for staying in the shadows to support your boss all these years, but that didn’t make him any less intimidating. The truth was, you didn’t know him well enough to understand what went on in his mind.

To you, Mr. Choi was just your boss’s boss—the executive you occasionally spotted from a distance as he strode through the office with that air of authority and responsibility. He was the face of Heidos Food, a man who commanded respect and led by example. His dedication and work ethic were part of the reason you’d decided to join this label among the Heidos Group’s many subsidiaries.

Taking a deep breath, you managed a smile at his secretary. “Mr. Choi is expecting me,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

The secretary gave a curt nod and led you to the door. You couldn’t help but feel small as you stood before it, staring at the imposing wood panel. The secretary knocked gently and stepped aside, motioning for you to enter.

This was it—your first time stepping into the office of the man who practically ran the entire division.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest as you took a deep breath and stepped inside.

What could he possibly want from me?

"It was disappointing, Ms. Ji."

Your heart sank as Mr. Choi’s voice sliced through the silence after you wrapped up the impromptu presentation.

“I don’t see your idea being as innovative as I expected. The format feels repetitive—similar to every program the marketing department has produced over the past few years.”

You bit your tongue, resisting the urge to argue. How could you not? Internally, you were screaming. Of course, everything looked the same—they were all your ideas! Yet, it wasn’t like you could point that out to him.

Instead, you forced yourself to respond with a calm, “I’m sorry, sir.”

Mr. Choi tapped his pen thoughtfully against the desk, his gaze never leaving your face. “But,” he continued slowly, “it does have potential. It just needs a bit more… observation and refinement. Do you think you can handle this project, Ms. Ji? It’s rather risky.”

His question caught you off guard. Risky? Since when did Mr. Choi—who typically preferred playing it safe—assign risky projects to subordinates? Still, you couldn’t let this opportunity slip away.

“I’m confident I can handle it, sir. If you trust me, I’ll deliver.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he nodded. “Good. In that case, pack some clothes. We’re going to Singapore for a seminar tomorrow.”

What?!

You blinked at him, stunned. Singapore? Tomorrow? You hadn’t even processed what just happened before he dismissed you, turning his attention back to his paperwork as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you.

*

Seungcheol had no idea where your confidence came from. He’d incidentally overheard your phone conversation with Jeonghan earlier, and it was all sweet and annoyingly romantic.

Alright, maybe it wasn’t exactly accidental. Maybe he intentionally eavesdropped—just a little—but who could blame him? He couldn’t believe how bold you were to have such an intimate call with Jeonghan right in front of him.

So, people are right when they say love is thrilling when you’re playing with fire, he mused, his annoyance growing.

"You should pay attention to her more," he heard you say, your voice dropping to a softer tone that made Seungcheol’s scowl deepen.

Then you added, with a laugh that sounded entirely too carefree, "You’re right, I’m the better companion."

He felt his jaw clench involuntarily. Companion, huh? The nerve of you—being all cozy with Jeonghan right under his nose. He was already irritated by this whole situation, but now he had to endure your lovey-dovey chatter too?

“Alright, I gotta go. Bye... Have a nice day!” you finished, your voice as sweet as honey.

The moment you hung up, Seungcheol snapped himself into a more composed posture, acting as if he hadn’t just been caught leaning against the wall, listening like a gossip. He made a show of dropping himself onto the couch in front of you.

To his further irritation, you looked up with an even brighter smile.

“What should I do today, sir?” you asked, voice cheerful and professional, as if you hadn’t just been caught cooing over the phone.

Seungcheol had to think. There was really nothing too strenuous on the agenda for you today, but a part of him—call it the vindictive part—wanted to see you squirm, especially after witnessing your little show of affection for Jeonghan.

“Take notes on everything,” he ordered, watching your expression closely. “Mingle with everyone. Join every discussion. Since I’ll be attending a separate meeting, make sure you don’t make a fool out of our company. Got it?”

You nodded and jotted everything down like the diligent employee you were. “Okay, noted, sir.”

Seungcheol let out a sigh, not quite satisfied with the reaction—or lack thereof. “Can I trust you with this?”

Your smile remained unwavering as you met his gaze. “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

Something about your calm composure only made him want to push you further.

How could you be this unbothered?

On the last day of the seminar, Seungcheol could hardly believe it when his company was presented with an award of appreciation—all thanks to your hard work over the past few days. He had known you were good, but he hadn’t expected you to exceed everyone’s expectations this much.

But what truly grated on his nerves was the way people kept talking about you: “That woman with brains, bravery, and beauty,” they said, almost in awe.

Is this a business seminar or some kind of beauty pageant? he grumbled internally, irritated by how many times he’d heard those words. Every time someone praised your creativity and wit, it felt like another jab. Yet, even he couldn’t deny you deserved the recognition. The achievement might have been unexpected, but it wasn’t entirely surprising.

Now, he found himself sitting at a high-end restaurant for lunch, just hours before their flight back to South Korea. You sat stiffly across from him, clearly uncomfortable. After refusing his invitation five times and trying to hitch a ride to the airport with his secretary instead, here you were—reluctantly.

“You can choose whatever you’d like, Ms. Ji. You’ve earned it,” Seungcheol said, not looking up from his menu as he spoke.

You mumbled a polite acknowledgment, your gaze glued to the menu. Seungcheol raised his hand to call the waitress over and glanced at you, waiting for your order. His eyes widened in surprise when you rattled off your request in perfect, fluent Malay.

“Wait—you can speak the language?” he asked, caught off guard.

You nodded casually. “Yes, I studied and graduated here.”

“Hmm,” Seungcheol murmured thoughtfully. He tapped his fingers against the table, considering your response. “With that kind of portfolio, you could easily settle into a bigger company. Why stay at Heidos Food?”

To his surprise, you shook your head, rejecting the notion. “No, Heidos Food is the perfect fit for me.”

Seungcheol raised a brow. He couldn’t tell if you were just being polite or genuinely meant it. “And why is that?”

You paused, looking a little hesitant before speaking. “Five years ago, I had just graduated, and I attended the company’s anniversary event with someone I knew. I saw your speech there—it was incredible. It motivated me to become a part of Heidos Foods. I applied several times, went through multiple interviews, and finally got my position three years ago.”

Seungcheol didn’t like the way your story painted him as an integral figure in your career choice. He didn’t want to think he was that important. And yet, there was no denying that something about the way you spoke made him pause. He found himself strangely flattered—and maybe a little more intrigued than he wanted to admit.

He glanced away, clearing his throat. Stop it, Seungcheol. She’s not special.

But the thought wouldn’t leave him. He kept stealing glances at you, wondering how he had overlooked these little details about you. Maybe there really was something to what everyone kept saying: brains, bravery, and beauty—all rolled into one package.

No, he told himself sternly. Focus.

Slowly, Seungcheol found himself losing sight of his initial motive for getting to know you better—the desire to uncover the truth behind your connection with Jeonghan. As he spent more time with you, your charm and intelligence began to weave a spell around him, shifting his focus from suspicion to genuine curiosity.

The more he learned about you, the more he realized how difficult it was to see you as just a subordinate or a rival in Jeonghan’s affections.

He hadn’t planned on feeling this way, and it unsettled him. What started as a calculated move to monitor your interactions had transformed into something entirely different.

Seungcheol caught himself daydreaming about your conversations, replaying moments that made him smile. He was drawn to you in ways he hadn’t expected, and that realization left him both exhilarated and confused.

As his initial purpose faded into the background, a new question took root in his mind: What if getting close to you had become the most intriguing project of all?

*

“Can you send Ms. Ji to my office after this? There’s something I need to discuss with her.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but she just left the building a few minutes ago due to personal business. She didn’t provide any details.”

Seungcheol nodded in frustration as Ms. Shin, your manager, wrapped up her paperwork. It had been two weeks since the two of you returned from the business trip, and he still found himself at a crossroads. He was working diligently to create a void that would justify getting rid of you, especially concerning your relationship with Jeonghan.

Alright, if he could be honest; he didn’t want to lose a gem like you from the company. The idea of you being Jeonghan’s “side chick” was almost infuriating, especially given your intelligence and undeniable beauty.

Yeah, Seungcheol couldn’t deny that your beauty truly shone when you were focused on your work, and he found it charming every time he handed you a new challenge.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed with a call from Jiyeon, his cousin. He picked it up, immediately greeted by her sobs.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, his protective instincts kicking in.

“Jeonghan…” Jiyeon cried, her voice trembling as she choked out his name.

“What did that bastard do now?”

There was no immediate response, just the sound of her muffled cries. Then, through the tears, Seungcheol finally heard her say, “He had a car accident after we fought. He’s in the hospital now.”

Within moments, Seungcheol found himself standing outside the operating room with Jiyeon by his side. To his surprise, he spotted you sitting quietly in a corner, clearly distressed. So here you were, the “personal business” Ms. Shin had mentioned.

“Let’s get you something to drink,” he said gently, placing a reassuring hand on Jiyeon’s shoulder and guiding her away from the waiting area. He handed her a can of soda as they sat down together.

“We fought on the phone,” Jiyeon explained, her voice still shaky. “I mentioned his side chick, and he denied it. He said he had no one besides me. I didn’t believe him, and then he said he would explain everything when he came to my office, but he got into a car accident.”

Seungcheol nodded, processing her words. “Y/N was there,” he said, gesturing toward you in the corner. “Y/N. She’s the one Jeonghan was supposedly seeing,” he added, his voice laced with confusion.

Jiyeon’s brow furrowed in frustration as she shook her head. “No, they are siblings. They have the same mother,” she sobbed, her voice breaking under the weight of her emotions.

Seungcheol’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What? They’re siblings?”

“Yes,” Jiyeon replied, her expression a mixture of sadness and relief. “That explains everything. I thought he was cheating on me, but it turns out he was just trying to protect her.”

The weight of this shocking revelation shifted the tension in the room, leaving both of them momentarily speechless. Seungcheol leaned back against the wall, trying to digest the news.

Jiyeon wiped her tears, glancing toward you again. “I need to talk to her,” she said, determination filling her voice. “She deserves an explanation.”

Seungcheol nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. Maybe this would clear the air and mend the rift between you.

*

"Has she done this a lot to you?" Seungcheol heard your voice coming from inside the room as he and Jiyeon were about to enter. Both of them paused instinctively, hovering just outside the door.

"She accused you of cheating. She put you in this situation!" Your tone was laced with a rage Seungcheol had never heard from you before. There was an intensity, a fierceness in your voice that was completely unfamiliar to him.

"I could’ve lost you…”

Jeonghan’s voice was soft, barely audible, as if trying to calm you down. “I’m fine, Y/N. I promise. It’s not her fault.”

Jiyeon, who had been poised to enter the room, suddenly froze, her eyes widening in realization. She glanced at Seungcheol, and he could see the confusion and guilt reflecting in her gaze. Before she could turn away, you stepped out of the room, your eyes red and swollen. The sight of Seungcheol and Jiyeon standing there, having clearly overheard the conversation, caught you off guard, but you quickly composed yourself.

You cleared your throat and walked past them with your head held high, your expression a perfect mask of indifference, as if you didn’t realize—or perhaps didn’t care—that they’d been listening in.

Seungcheol watched you go, his mind spinning. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the college days when he and Jeonghan had shared a dorm room. As the only Korean students on campus, they naturally gravitated toward each other. He recalled Jeonghan often mentioning his younger sister—a sibling from the same mother who was in middle school at the time. Seungcheol had never met her, but from Jeonghan’s stories, it was clear how much he treasured her.

"I get a headache every time she doesn’t pick up my call!" Jeonghan would grumble late at night, throwing his phone down in frustration. “She’s so stubborn, but she’s all I’ve got.”

And now, it all clicked into place. The sister Jeonghan had spoken of so fondly, the one he worried about constantly, was you. You, the woman who had captivated his attention with your intelligence and charm, were Jeonghan’s sister. Someone who had been right under his nose this entire time.

*

The hum of the office printer was the only sound in the room as you carefully gathered the documents you needed to submit. Steeling yourself, you walked to Seungcheol’s office and knocked gently before stepping inside.

Seungcheol glanced up from his computer when he heard the door open. The usual lighthearted banter that had developed between the two of you was noticeably absent as you approached his desk and placed the file in front of him.

“Here’s the proposal, sir. It needs your signature,” you said softly, keeping your eyes on the document and not on him.

Seungcheol picked up the pen, his gaze shifting between the file and your calm, composed demeanor. After scribbling his signature on the dotted line, he cleared his throat, an awkward tension hanging between you two.

“Is… Jeonghan doing better?” Seungcheol asked cautiously, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice finally holding a hint of warmth. “He’s recovering well. The doctors said he’ll be discharged tomorrow.”

Seungcheol nodded, a small wave of relief washing over him. “That’s good to hear. I’m glad he’s getting better. If you need more time off, just let me know. I know you’ve been the one taking care of him.”

You shook your head gently. “No, thank you. There’s already an assigned nurse for him. I’ll be back to work as usual.”

The air between you two was thick with unspoken words and awkwardness. Seungcheol felt the weight of everything he had said and done, of the suspicion that had once tainted every interaction he’d had with you. He knew it was his fault the dynamic between you had shifted so drastically, and now, he was fumbling, unsure of how to bridge the gap he had created.

“I—” Seungcheol hesitated, his usual poise and confidence faltering. “I know I messed up… and I don’t blame you if things don’t go back to the way they were. I just… I miss the way we used to work together, the way we used to talk.”

You blinked, taken aback by his admission. But even then, you didn’t respond with the same enthusiasm you used to. Instead, you offered him a small, understanding smile.

“Thank you for understanding, sir,” was all you said before you excused yourself and walked out of his office.

Seungcheol watched you go, the emptiness in his chest expanding. He had been wrong—terribly, embarrassingly wrong—and now he was paying the price for his foolish assumptions. He had shattered the easy camaraderie that once existed between you, and now, he was left with the cold, polite exchanges that felt more like a punishment than anything else.

You were here, right in front of him, but you felt more distant than ever.

*

You knew exactly what had been happening to you, but you tried to deny it until it finally affected you like it did today. Ms. Shin had already lectured you with words you never imagined she would use, all because of a rare moment of clumsiness that you didn’t even see coming. You had too much on your plate, and the project Mr. Choi had assigned to you was nearing its deadline. In the midst of it all, you accidentally forgot to send an anniversary message to one of your most loyal clients, and Ms. Shin had to do damage control.

“They were very offended, Y/N,” Ms. Shin snapped, her voice carrying throughout the office as she reprimanded you in front of everyone. You stood there, hands clasped in front of you, listening to her and internally cursing yourself for letting things slip, all because you couldn’t get Mr. Choi’s words out of your mind.

“I miss the way we used to work together.”

“I miss—”

“I’ll be reporting this to HR. I can’t handle this kind of negligence anymore.” Ms. Shin concluded sharply, her words reverberating through the office. A collective gasp came from your colleagues, who were too stunned to react.

Later that day, you found yourself sitting in the HR director’s office, replaying Ms. Shin’s words in your mind. You expected another round of the same scolding, but what came next blindsided you completely.

“We’ve received reports about you neglecting your responsibilities over the past three months, and unfortunately, we can’t tolerate this any longer. Please clear your desk before the workday ends,” the HR director said, his tone dismissive.

“What?” The shock was apparent on your face. No warning letter, no opportunity to explain—just an immediate termination.

“You’re firing me?” you whispered, still in disbelief.

“Effective immediately.” His tone was final, and there was no room for negotiation. You were jobless. Just like that.

You felt a scream building up inside you, a storm of emotions you didn’t know how to release. Anger, frustration, betrayal—every word they’d said felt unfair, and you were powerless to fight it. Who were you to contest it? Just another employee, replaceable, forgotten.

By the time you made it home, Jeonghan was the first to greet you, his face lighting up in surprise. “You’re home early?” he chirped, clearly not expecting you at this hour. Ever since he was discharged from the hospital, he had been staying at your place, recovering until he could get around without any help.

His smile quickly faded when he noticed the cardboard box in your hands. His expression crumpled with worry as you dropped the box onto the table with a heavy thud. “Are you… fired?” Jeonghan asked hesitantly, as if he couldn’t believe his own words.

You nodded, letting out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, they fired me. Fuck Heidos. I’m going to start my own advertising company!”

Jeonghan blinked, caught off guard by your outburst. “Alright, slow down. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but what happened?” he asked, concern lacing his tone.

You shrugged, collapsing onto the couch in exhaustion. The last thing you wanted was to relive today’s events by recounting them to your brother. You just wanted to forget.

“Does Seungcheol know about this?” Jeonghan pressed on, not noticing how drained you were. “He told me you were handling a project together. Was this his decision?”

“Do you need a marketing staff?” you deflected, throwing the question back at him, trying to steer the conversation away.

“No, I don’t. But if you’re interested, I can make some room for you.”

You shook your head immediately. The last thing you wanted was to work for your brother’s company out of pity or nepotism. It wasn’t like you hadn’t considered it before, but joining his business now would feel like a defeat.

“I told you, you could’ve joined my company from the start,” Jeonghan murmured softly, his tone far gentler than before. “The Heidos you were so proud of has finally turned its back on you, huh?”

You groaned and stood up abruptly, your heavy steps echoing through the small living room as you stormed off to your bedroom. You slammed the door behind you, cutting off whatever else Jeonghan had to say.

“Yeah, Heidos finally threw me out,” you muttered bitterly to yourself as you leaned against the door. The company you had dreamed of working for, the place you’d given your blood, sweat, and tears for over the years—had thrown you out without so much as a second thought.

You took a deep breath, but it didn’t ease the tightness in your chest. This was the company you had stayed up nights for, the one you’d gone above and beyond for every single day. You’d fought your way in, made a name for yourself, only to be discarded like you were nothing.

And all you could think about was how everything had spiraled ever since that conversation with Seungcheol. How his simple words had shaken your confidence, distracted you, and caused this downward spiral.

But the worst part?

You still cared what he thought.

You sat on the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the wall as Jeonghan's words replayed in your mind, taunting you.

Heidos finally turned its back on you.

Was that it, though? Was it really the company you were angry with? Or was there something more?

Your gaze dropped to the floor as a bitter realization crept in. Were you really interested in Heidos all along? Or was it Mr. Choi?

You closed your eyes and let out a slow breath, your thoughts drifting back to the first time you saw him in person. It was during Heidos’s anniversary gala, a grand event that showcased the company's milestones.

But there he was—Choi Seungcheol, the CEO’s son, standing on the grand stage, delivering a speech with the kind of charisma that made everyone hang on to his every word. He talked about vision, about passion, about how Heidos wasn’t just a business—it was a dream they all built together.

You remembered the way his eyes scanned the room as if acknowledging everyone’s efforts personally, his voice carrying conviction and authority. He seemed approachable yet untouchable at the same time. There was a spark in him that drew you in, like a flame you couldn’t help but be mesmerized by, even if it meant risking getting burned.

When he mentioned the value of individual contributions, you couldn’t help but imagine yourself as one of those valued employees he spoke of. That night, you had felt an overwhelming sense of pride, a hope that you, too, could be part of something bigger. Part of his vision. It made you work harder, push through every obstacle, and make a name for yourself in the company.

But what if, beneath all those aspirations, it was his approval you were really after?

Had it always been about earning a place at Heidos, or had it been about being acknowledged by him? Did your heart race because of the accomplishments, or was it because of the fleeting interactions you had with him?

You tried to shake off the thoughts, but the memories kept flooding back.

There was the time he complimented your work during a company meeting, the way he’d asked for your opinion during a discussion, and, of course, the project where you saw a different side of him—where he was more than just the stern, high-and-mighty executive everyone knew him as.

"I miss the way we used to work together."

His words echoed in your mind, laced with regret and something you couldn’t quite place. Had you let those words affect you more than they should have? Had you crossed a line somewhere between professionalism and personal admiration?

You huffed out a breath and rubbed your face with your hands. It was hard to admit, but maybe you were chasing after more than just a career.

Maybe it was a person.

“Are you really that naive?” you muttered to yourself, almost laughing at how pathetic it sounded. “You got yourself fired because you couldn’t get over a few words from Choi Seungcheol. Great job, Y/N.”

What had you been thinking? That you meant something more to him? That the way he looked at you was anything other than superficial interest? Maybe you’d been reading into things too much, letting your emotions cloud your judgment.

After all, the way he’d treated you—suspicious, distrustful, wary—it all pointed to how little he thought of you. You were a pawn in his game of protecting Jiyeon. The only reason he ever looked your way was because he thought you were a threat.

And yet… you wanted to believe there had been something more. Something genuine. But now, everything felt tainted.

Because if Heidos was no longer an option, then you’d just have to prove to yourself that you could rise even without the company’s name backing you up.

But first, you’d have to figure out a way to keep your heart in check—especially when it came to him.

“Forget it, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself, staring at your reflection in the bedroom mirror. “Forget about Choi Seungcheol. He was never part of your plan, anyway.”

*

It was his first day back in the office after a week-long business trip, and Seungcheol finally had a chance to sit down and get back into his routine. His secretary entered the room with his usual coffee, already prepared with a list of updates and meetings for the day. He rattled them off efficiently, detailing every appointment and task Seungcheol needed to be aware of.

“I want to know the update on the project Ms. Ji is handling,” Seungcheol said, glancing at the folder in front of him, half-expecting to see her familiar name.

There was a brief pause, and when his secretary responded, the answer was something Seungcheol never anticipated.

“She’s no longer part of our staff, sir.”

Seungcheol frowned, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. “What do you mean?” he asked, the question carrying a sharp edge.

“She was terminated a week ago due to negligence in fulfilling her responsibilities,” the secretary explained carefully. “The report came from Ms. Shin, and HR approved it immediately.”

Seungcheol’s scowl deepened, the irritation evident in the tightening of his jaw. He leaned back in his chair, processing the information. “Ms. Ji was managing a critical project with me,” he said, his voice lowering. “Her status required my approval. How is it possible I wasn’t informed about this?”

His secretary’s shoulders tensed, and he hesitated before replying, “I’m terribly sorry, sir. You were occupied with meetings and engagements throughout the week, and I only received the details two days ago myself.”

“Busy or not, I should have been notified immediately.” Seungcheol’s voice was dangerously calm. He glanced at the stack of files on his desk, his mind already racing to piece together what could’ve gone wrong. “I want Ms. Shin and Mr. Kim from HR in my office—now.”

“Yes, sir,” the secretary replied quickly, bowing slightly before leaving the room to carry out Seungcheol’s orders.

Seungcheol’s gaze shifted to the half-empty coffee cup, his thoughts a blur of anger and disbelief. Fired? For negligence? That didn’t add up. He knew you weren't perfect, but you were dedicated and thorough. You had handled complex projects before, and while you had your flaws, negligence was never one of them.

Something wasn’t right.

The door opened again a few minutes later, and Ms. Shin walked in, followed closely by Mr. Kim. Both looked apprehensive, likely sensing the storm brewing from the tension in the air.

“Explain,” Seungcheol said without preamble, his eyes fixed on Ms. Shin. “Why was Ms. Ji terminated, and why was I not informed?”

Ms. Shin cleared her throat, meeting his gaze with a strained smile. “Sir, there were multiple instances where Ms. Ji failed to meet her deadlines and deliverables, which impacted the team’s performance. I reported this to HR, and after reviewing her recent performance records, they decided to let her go.”

“And whose idea was it to keep this from me?” Seungcheol’s voice was low and dangerous.

“We didn’t intend to keep it from you, sir,” Mr. Kim interjected cautiously.

“The decision was made quickly due to the urgency of the situation. Given that you were away and Ms. Shin was the acting supervisor for that period, we thought it best to handle it internally until we could brief you properly.”

Seungcheol’s gaze shifted between the two of them, his displeasure evident. “I don’t appreciate decisions being made without my knowledge, especially when it concerns a project directly under my supervision. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” they both answered in unison, looking visibly uncomfortable.

“Ms. Ji was fired without a formal warning or disciplinary review?” Seungcheol continued, his voice hardening. “Was she given no chance to explain herself or defend her performance?”

Ms. Shin shifted uneasily, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. “Sir, she had been making several mistakes, and her focus seemed to be elsewhere. It was affecting her work quality. We couldn’t afford to let it slide any longer.”

“Was this decision truly about her work, or something else?” Seungcheol pressed, his gaze narrowing. “Because from what I’ve seen, she was one of the most consistent performers on the team. I want a full report on the matter by the end of today.”

“Yes, sir,” Mr. Kim replied quickly, while Ms. Shin’s jaw tightened, her frustration barely masked.

“Dismissed,” Seungcheol said curtly, waving them out of his office.

*

You practically jumped out of your bed when you saw an incoming call from Mr. Choi flash across your phone screen. Heart racing, you scrambled to sit up straight before answering.

“I’m outside your place.”

What?

You blinked, staring at yourself in the mirror in disbelief. Just moments ago, you had been in a post-drama-marathon daze, slouched in bed after indulging in a series binge you could never afford the time for before. And now, the very man who occupied your thoughts far more than he should—the Choi Seungcheol—was calling to announce that he was outside your apartment?

“Uh—can you give me ten minutes? I’m not exactly looking presentable at the moment,” you stammered, glancing down at your wrinkled pajamas and messy hair. Your reflection screamed “I-just-woke-up” and “don’t-look-at-me”.

“I—what I mean is!” You quickly corrected yourself, flustered. “I just woke up, so I might look a little… disgusting.”

The last word fell out awkwardly, and you cringed inwardly. Of all the words you could’ve chosen…

“Take your time, Ms. Ji.” His voice was calm, almost amused. You heard the call click off, leaving you in stunned silence.

Oh God, what was he doing here?

You dashed into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and washing your face in record time. The face staring back at you looked different now—the long hair you used to style meticulously was gone, impulsively cut to shoulder length last week in a fit of frustration and exhaustion. You sighed and brushed it diligently, making it look as presentable as possible. Changing out of your pajamas into something more decent—a casual blouse and jeans—you took a deep breath before heading outside.

Stepping out of your building, you spotted his sleek car parked along the road, and there he was—slipping out of the driver’s seat, looking effortlessly handsome despite the casualness of his attire. His usual sharp suit was gone, replaced by a simple white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Even without the formal suit jacket, his presence seemed to dominate the entire street. You couldn’t help but stare for a moment, struggling to reconcile this man’s unexpected appearance outside your home with the same person you admired from afar at work.

Focus, Y/N.

“How are you?” Seungcheol asked, his gaze soft as it met yours.

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer verbally, so you just nodded stiffly, offering a tight smile. The truth was, you weren’t okay—not even close. And a part of you wanted him to understand that without you having to spell it out. But another part of you was wary, unsure how much he even knew or cared about what happened.

“I just found out about your termination this morning,” he began, and you blinked in surprise. You hadn’t expected this to be the topic of conversation. “I’m so sorry.”

You stood there, rooted in place as you stared at him. What was going on?

“I shouldn’t have let Ms. Shin handle things like that,” he continued, voice low, the frustration evident in his tone. “I knew she’s been trying to drag you down all this time. I knew you were the one carrying the department, handling all the toughest projects… That’s why I’m sorry.”

The Choi Seungcheol, the man who exuded confidence and charisma at every turn, now looked uncharacteristically small and uncertain standing before you. The apology caught you off guard. You had prepared yourself for cold professionalism, or maybe even indifference. But not this.

“I won’t force you to come back to the company,” he said gently. “That’s entirely your choice.”

He paused, looking as if he was weighing his next words carefully, then took a deep breath. “But I don’t want to lose the chance to tell you…”

Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in his gaze making it hard to breathe.

“I might like you,” he confessed, his voice almost a whisper. “Romantically.”

What?!

The world seemed to freeze around you as you stared at him, your mind racing to process his words. Seungcheol… liked you? The very same Choi Seungcheol who spent years being distant and impossible to read? He liked you, romantically? This couldn’t be real.

“I—I don’t know when it happened,” he continued, his expression a mixture of vulnerability and resolve. “But somewhere along the way, I realized I was looking forward to seeing you every day. You were more than just a competent employee; you were someone I admired. And then… I started to miss you.”

The sincerity in his words left you speechless. You glanced down, unable to meet his gaze as you tried to figure out what to say. Was it possible that you hadn’t just admired him from afar but had harbored deeper feelings too?

“I understand if this is too much for you right now,” he said softly, stepping back as if to give you space. “I just needed you to know… I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when I should’ve been. And I’m sorry that you had to go through all of this because of me.”

His voice was gentle, and for a moment, the street around you seemed to blur, leaving just the two of you standing there, suspended in this unexpected moment.

What could you possibly say? Words failed you, so you did the only thing you could—you nodded, acknowledging his apology and his confession, still unsure if you were dreaming or awake.

“Thank you… for telling me,” you managed to say quietly.

Things could never go back to the way they used to be.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Taglist: @your-favorite-god @cens0r3d @lovelyteenagebeard

Heeding Aemond’s words, you decided that an audience with Cannibal was required. So in the dead of night you slipped out of the red keep through the secrete passages you’ve learned thanks to Aegon, almost undetected had you not almost collided with a rat catcher who was accompanied by the cutest dog you’ve did see, before fleeing into the very same woods upon your first encounter with the behemoth of legend.

Once you got to the cave Helaena’s words had been proven true, Cannibal had been waiting for you as the silhouette of his head could be seen poked out of the dark, just as a pair dark green eyes like Greek fire looking directly at you but you weren’t afraid like last time.

‘Cannibal.’ You greeted as you bowed before the dragon, whom let out an almost purring sound at the sign of respect shown towards him. After all many people who tried to claim him expected him to submit to their will, but Cannibal knew his worth and vowed to never allow a pathetic creature to ride him, but one who’d inevitably catch his eye by accident.

‘I’m going to cut the formalities and be upfront with you and that is because time is limited and I have been so foolishly trying to avoid a predestined fate.’ You tell the dragon who only watched you with curiosity that it made you wonder how many others had been giving the same curtesy, not many you presumed but now wasn’t the time to falter when morning was fast approaching. ‘People, powerful people are going to try and stake claim to you through me in hopes of getting you to yield.’

Cannibal lets out a powerful roar that you felt within your chest, resonating with you in a way that you didn’t think was possible. You could feel his hatred for cowards, weaklings and people who felt the need to claim more than was needed, a spark has been light between the two of you and it was only starting to grow to a fierce but stubborn flame.

‘I had a feeling you would hate that.’ You told the dragon as you moved closer all the while he looked at you, steam puffing from his nostrils, his eyes practically glowing like hellish pits of fire amidst the night. Cannibal was beautiful as he was terrifying and you were growing to like the thrill of having him as your companion, your friend and not just a dragon you simply rode for convince. ‘So here is my proposal, should you accept, you take me as your rider an you shall keep your freedom for I will not clip your wings as you are a dragon through and through, the sky is your domain and I shall not take that from you.’ You added as you watched Cannibal lower his head so that he could meet you eye to eye, interested in what you had to say.

‘Also, there’s just one other thing that I may ask of you cannibal.’ The dragon only huffed as though telling you to go on.

‘Consume any dragon and their rider should their boastfulness overtakes their common sense,’ you told him in seriousness, ‘make them remember to fear the name Cannibal for it is not just a name to take lightly.’ You then took a step back from the dragon and held out of your hand, palm out flat as the nerves within you went wild, this was by far the stupidest and most terrifying thing you have ever done but still you had to see it through. ‘Do we have a deal?’ You finished.

Cannibal studied you for a moment, his eyes looking deep into your own that you felt as though he could see your soul, your true being, before moving his head closer to you and pressing his snout against your hand. It was rough, warm but alive and you couldn’t help but smile at the fact that you had just made history.

You had just became Cannibal’s first rider.

[cynthiav06]

I cannot believe how this hasn't been addressed in the PJO Fandom yet but does no one notice that the books, Rick himself glosses over or downplays the fact that PERCY FUCKING JACKSON GAVE UP IMMORTALITY!!!

And in reason as to why Percy gave up immortality?

The Percabeth stans are only too happy to make "Oh Percy gave up immortality for Annabeth." The hell he did. Have we read the same books? Are you really demeaning the importance of what Percy did. Cause here's what happened, and here's why it's so important:

PERCY GAVE UP IMMORTALITY SO THAT GODS COULD CLAIM DEMIGOD CHILDREN EARLY SO THAT THEY DO NOT REMAIN DEFENSELESS.

Furthermore, he did it so CHILDREN OF MINOR GODS COULD HAVE A PLACE TO BELONG TO, TO HAVE IDENTITY OF THEIR OWN, SO MINOR GODS THEMSELVES CAN BE PROPERLY ACKNOWLEDGED.

Similarly, he further added that CHILDREN OF HADES SHOULD NOT BE OSTRACIZED, THEY AS WELL AS HADES DESERVE TO BE WELCOME INTO OLYMPUS AND INTO CAMP , DESERVE PROPER RESPECT.

What ticks me off the most is how such an important sacrifice such an important change is never addressed again to the extent it deserves.

Cause this is not a surface level thing. This is going to change and better the lives of all demigods that come after or even demigods who were wrongly forced to remain in Hermes Cabin. A safe, more respectful, more meaningful environment for all demigods no matter who their godly parent is.

Are you telling that children of minor gods don't literally worship Percy for doing all this? Don't wholly completely feel grateful at least that he voiced out for them over his own difficulties? That he made a safe place for them happen?

Are you telling me that Minor Gods themselves don't feel at least a little grateful and respect Percy who did this of his own volition without having even met many Minor Gods. That he voiced out for their own children when they couldn't?

Are you telling me that Travis and Connor or any other demigods and cabin counselors don't automatically rave on about the greatness of Percy Jackson to any new arrivals in Camp Half-Blood?

Cause we were robbed of this of a proper homage to the sacrifice other demigods, Luke himself and Percy himself made to make it happen.

Piper, Leo , and Jason all seem so ignorant to it. Even newer demigods in Chalice of Gods or other books seem ignorant to this, and that's so against the usual canon representation of Camp Half-Blood as a community.

We should have seen it in Lost Hero, should have seen it in Chalice of Gods, should have seen it acknowledge repeatedly. You know why?

Yes, Percy didn't want immortality, but don't you know that deep down Percy knew exactly what immortality meant? Eternal protection from his father in his realm. No Gods bothering him, no more sacrifices or death quests. Freedom to do what he wants. To be able to spend time with his family as long as he wants without the worry of risking their safety. And he gave it all up

NOT EVEN IMMORTALITY. GODS WOULD HAVE GRANTED ANY WISH. HE COULD HAVE WISHED ANYTHING. FOR HIM TO BE PROTECTED? NO MORE QUESTS? FOR GODS TO LEAVE HIM ALONE? HE GAVE IT ALL UP, ALL OF IT.

Perseus blood Jackson made happen what no one in the History of Camp Half-Blood has ever done. He managed to make Gods change their ignorant ways. He dismantled a culture of neglect and abuse.

And the fact Rick himself let this happen, let all this gloss over, and the fact that Percabeth stans have the AUDACITY to insinuate that he did for Annabeth and demean Luke's sacrifice, Percy's sacrifice is beyond me.

[sashi-ya]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑨𝑵𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑹 「cuts of freedom: final part 」 soshiro hoshina x f! officer! reader

a/n: and the end is here! i'm not gonna lie, I wish for this story to last forever. And, actually, I might add some little updates about these two here and there sometimes! anyway, please enjoy! And thank you so so much for being here since the very beginning when this started as a simple scenario 💖 a/n 2: some clarification about the contents: "せーの!”  is the classical expression "seeh・noh" in Japanese used like "ready, set, go!". Tanabata, is a very well known festival in Asia celebrated during July- Aug. The Hoshina clan is real clan! I did my research, that's why I added the "Fukushima" patterns. tw: mdni! sex explicit scenes. masturbation. nipple bitting. marking. public car sex. wc: 3.5k // part 1: cuts of freedom // part 2: かんぱい！// part 3: stuffed // part 4: side B: relax // part 5: mirror, mirror... // part 6: sex for breakfast // masterlist

Eyebags puffy and visible, you haven’t really sleep much. Breakfast -and sex after breakfast- though, tasted delicious.

Should you both arrive together? Where are you, exactly, after all?

“Come on, did you bring the uniform?” Soshiro asks, putting on one of his classic black compressive shirts.

Your heart breaks, as the abs you adore get once again covered by that tight fabric. You are not mad, though.

“I haven’t- I just brought normal clothes…” you sigh, remembering the fact you left your boiler suit at the base.

“Then wear mine” he says, pretty naturally, handing you over one of his suits.

If there is something us women like, is to wear our couple’s clothing. And you aren’t any different. Instantly, you take -almost snatch- it from his hands. You are eager to see if it smells like him, you are eager to feel hug and warm by even his clothing.

And, indeed, it has a faint trace of his perfume. Manly and delicious, you engulf the smell, feeling your insides get filled with butterflies as you do.

“Should I take it off? Or wanna wear it around?” Soshiro asks, laughing cutely while coming closer to you. His delicate fingers graze the little enamel pin on your chest.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“Hoshina Soshiro ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 3rd Div. Vice Captain”

You smile softly, eyelashes fluttering slowly, looking down at his hand. Of course, you’d love to wear it around; because you are his… but you aren’t ready for “he say she says” although rumour already has it that you two have something going on.

“Do you think is it ok? Isn’t it against the rules?” “Indeed it is, doll. Give it back, haha!”

Your cheeks become hot from embarrassment. Of course it is against the rules. And sometimes with these type of little pranks, Soshiro can be a little bit annoying.

“Don’t be sad, I promise you I will search for my old badge, and I will give it to you. Ok?” he says, kissing the tip of your nose as he takes off the pin from your clothes.

You nod, sweetly. Like a little girl, you are instantly happy and satisfied with such a beautiful and cute promise.

Soshiro doesn’t pay much attention at anything besides you while walking out of his apartment. His hand is placed on your lower back, guiding you through the hall towards the elevator.

“You look so good with my clothes, hun” he whispers, closely to your ear right from behind.

A shiver runs down your spine and it travels to every little sensitive spot on your body.

“Thank you… Soshiro~” you answer, not sure if you wish the elevator to arrive faster or slower.

Unfortunately -or not- the doors of the lift open, and the sterile white lights of the mirrored inside receives you reflecting all of your angles.

You remember Soshiro complaining of the cameras inside the elevator, and as much as you wish he could push you against the walls to grope you, you know it is impossible. But nothing is when it comes to Hoshina Soshiro who is apparently crazier for your sex more than what you could think of.

He, then, proceeds to stand right at your back. It is him who’s against the bars attached to the mirror wall, now. His hands slowly slide from your waist to your front, getting into the front pockets of your boiler suit.

With his chin carved on your shoulder, he smirks to the mirror in front of you. His fingers reaching for your core, pushing quite strongly against it in tiny circular motions.

“I really want my suit to get covered by your scent… would you make a little mess for me?” he asks, pressing his crotch against your ass, showing you how hard he is once again.

You swallow; it wasn’t necessary to ask, if he keeps doing what he is doing you will for sure make a mess in it.

“So-Sosh-ngh…” you fidget around his index going crazy over your clit. “Mmh? Don’t be that noticeable… you know I don’t want the guards to see you! plus, the doors are about to open. What if a neighbour sees you?” he says, in such perverse tone it makes you tremble.

You bite your lips shut, taking a big gasp of air, wishing for his fingertips to finally touch you without anything in between. Your eyes shut closed, inevitably thinking of what he said; what if the doors open and someone sees you in such state?

The “ping” announces the doors are about to open, your heart rising faster, your inner thighs dripping with sensual wetness.

“せーの!”  he whispers. And as soon as a fine line of light filters through the sliding doors, he takes his hand off the pocket -and your sex-

You sigh loudly, putting yourself together in a matter of seconds.

“Morning, Soshiro-chan!” she says with a lovely tone, as if this happened every day.

“Morning, Mrs. Tanaka!” he salutes her, like a usual daily happening.

An old woman stands right in front of the elevator, with an as old as her poodle in her hands. The dog barks annoyingly at Soshiro and you, as it might have seen a cat… well, Soshiro kinda looks like one.

“Go kill many Kaiju, boy!” “I sure will, Mrs. Tanaka! Give Mr. Tanaka my regards!”

Apparently, that woman is Soshiro’s neighbour. Did he know she was going to be there by the time the elevator reached the floor level? He is more perverted than what you could have ever imagined…

You smile all throughout the mere seconds the conversation lasts, walking out of the mirrored lift trying to regulate your accelerated breathing.

The moment the doors close, he turns to you too look into your eyes. He burns holes into yours, with a smirk that shows he is not quite over with it.

“See? I told you…” “Soshiro, sometimes I think you are just a villain…”

He laughs, loudly, like he is used to do. From his pocket, he takes the keys of his car, and both walk to the little parking lot right behind the building.

He opens the door for you, putting first your little bag in the backseat and then letting you sit on the front. He then closes such door and jumps into the drivers seat.

And despite you thinking he was going to start the engine, he had first quite different plans...

“You said you thought I was a villain…” he mumbles, looking at you, coming closer to your lips with his index under your chin.

“You must be ~” you playfully back up.

He smirks and it’s all you need; next thing you know, is him pulling you from your seat to straddle your hips on top of his lap.

“Then, as the villain I am, allow me to finish my perfect crime…” he whispers, lowering the zipper of your -his- suit open.

You wonder if this man has a “public sex kink” or he actually just don’t care the rest of the world but you; Soshiro wants to have you at any time, in any place, whenever he desires.

His hand slides down your belly and into your panties. Wet as he wanted you is what he founds. And he is pleased.

Soshiro’s free hand pulls you closer as he pushes your lower back further. Your breasts, free of any other clothing, bounce temptingly in front of his face. It doesn’t take him much to finally attach to them with lips and teeth. Sucking like his life depended on  it, he makes you whine loudly from pleasure and pain… boy, those fangs are certainly sharp.

While he delights himself with the taste of your nipples, his thumb finishes the work he started in the elevator; masturbating you so good you soon forget about the weak morning light bathing the parking lot, or the fact Soshiro’s car windows have a barely purple tint on them.

Soon enough, your thighs accompany the spasms your inner walls experience. And climax hits you uncontrollably; the mess Soshiro wanted, had finally been materialized… his suit will hold the stains of your relief exactly as he wished.

“As long as I wish to fuck you hard, we are gonna get late there. I don’t want Mina to scold us” he says, helping you sit on your spot back again.

You are trembling still, only recognizing his voice, and the sweet way in which he closes the zipper and fasten the seatbelt to keep you safe.

You blink twice, still in awe. You look into the little mirror, seeing your heated cheeks and the mess of your hair that you slowly fix while he starts to drive. The pony tail you just finished, your hands still around the elastic band… the lustful idea of pleasuring him while he drives; after all you believe in equality, and just as he made you come… you must make him come, too.

You drift to the side, still without catching much of his attention. You bend slowly; waiting for a red light to make him stop. Your mouth is watering, and it is that Soshiro somehow tastes so delicious. Maybe it is his healthy life style, maybe is the testosterone of a modern samurai or it is just that you are infatuated with him.

“Wha- hahaha- what are you doing?!” he laughs, thinking you are just being funny. “I think I want my mouth to be a mess as well” you whisper, moving like a cat about to pounce on a little mouse.

His eyes now open widely; looking down as you lower the pants’ zipper.

“This is one of the things I love about you, (Name)-san… go ahead, feast on it” “It will be my pleasure, fuku-taichou” you sing, kissing the bulge before finally freeing his sex from his briefs.

You can feel on your chest the little ups and downs of his legs while he drives, and every bump pushes his dick inside you even deeper against your throat. Your tongue makes sure to damp the whole shaft, while your bobbing head and sucking lips make him grunt.

Soshiro’s hands grip tightly to the wheel; a little drop of sweat forms on his forehead. His sex becomes harder, ready to burst. The way you let his dick go deeper into your throat, allows the tip of your tongue to reach for the base and even more if you use your hand to play with his balls. The poor soldier is doing a great job while driving through the busy streets of Tachikawa, fast enough to park right at the base for the moment he reaches the peak…

“I’m gonna… come… you-“ “I won’t let a drop mess with your seat, don’t worry…” you whisper, giving him the last pumps this time with your hand and your tongue against his tip.

Soshiro retorts in silence, letting scattered “nghs” and “fucks” as he finally bursts. He grabs your pony tail, having the hair tangled on his fist, burying your head down so that he can finish right into your throat.

Eyes watery, lungs using the last molecule of oxygen, nose inhaling his skin’s perfume, your tongue feeling the accelerated pulse on his sex’s veins… oh, the delicious warm seed of Hoshina Soshiro going down your throat.

“You are gonna be the death of me, babe…”

The return to the base felt silent; both got out of Soshiro’s car, smiled at each other and parted ways. He needed to go back to his office, while you had to go straight to morning training. Your muscles were screaming at you; they didn’t want any more exercise this morning… but you simply couldn’t skip it.

The day went by fast and in between building strength and weapon management; by the time the afternoon arrived, the constant memory of Soshiro’s promise for tonight’s plans that reverberated in your brain, fade off to the point of almost forgetting about it.

However, there are certain things you couldn’t escape from, and you were about to find out.

By the time the training was over, and everybody was stretching, you began to win a couple of looks; your suit didn’t feel like yours and indeed it had a special pair of little straps on the back that you didn’t take in consideration when you chose not to change into yours…

“(Name), what is this?” Akari asks, passing her finger in between one of the hoops that’s clearly meant to be used to hold a certain type of blade.

“What?” you ask, still unaware.

“Oh, oh… don’t tell me you are a double blade user like Hoshina Fukutaichou, (Name)?! Platoon leader Nakanoshima says, laughing loudly with clear intentions of teasing you. She continues, also, telling Ryo he owes her money for winning “the bet”… “I told you they were screwing!”  “Nakanoshima -.-“

Your eyes open like two pair of eggs. Your cheeks turn to fire, the whole squad laughs and other start whispering… yet, none of those reactions were filled with bad intentions. In fact, it was quite the opposite, making even Mina give Kafka a soft little smile in complicity.

“No, no I- We aren’t… It is not what it seems like! We aren’t… uh…“ you try to excuse yourself, being aware that this could be detrimental to your relationship. You aren’t sure if Soshiro wants you like anything else than an “acquaintance”. This rumour could fuck everything up.   

“There are no rules against it, (Name)! don’t worry!” Kikoru smiles, assuring an essential truth; her parents were known to be one of the strongest couples inside of the JAKDF.

You give a sweet smile to your young but strong nakama; she doesn’t really need to know the details of how intricate adult relationships really are… yet.

The commotion gets instantly silenced by Mina ordering you all to go back to your stretching exercises. You all bow respect to your captain, and fast enough you all continue with your duties.

Soon, as the training finally finished, everybody start walking back at the barracks. You needed a bath, perhaps more than anyone else in that place… this morning “mess” was still unwashed.

None of the women said much as you walk to the bathrooms; everybody seemed more tired than ever. Probably, like you, they all had fun on that free day you were given yesterday.

It was not until you undressed that you noticed the marks all over your body; fangs that carved into your flesh have left a vast area of purple and painful spots all over that have been developing all throughout the day.

“There is no way I will make another scene. I must shower when everybody is done…” you think, suddenly remembering the day Soshiro cut open your anti kaiju suit; the day he saved your life, and the day both skins touched for the very first time in such intimate and deep way. This, lead you to remember, also, the so mentioned “plans for tonight”.

What were those plans? Were they still happening? What if he -and probably he already does- knows about today’s fuss on you wearing his uniform? He hasn’t reached out yet…

By the time you are out of the shower, you keep lost into your thoughts and memories of Soshiro’s sweet kitty face.

“(Name)? you lost your intercom again. Here…” A soft voice, calm and patient pulls you out your own thoughts and hands you over a little white earphone.

You blink twice, noticing captain Ashiro being as delicate as a flower while she gives you the ear piece. She simply takes his index to her ear and taps twice leading you to wear what she gave you.

You haven’t lost it, though. You simply didn’t wear it today; nobody was expected to do so, either way. But you understand, almost immediately, that you must follow your captain’s orders because something beautiful was waiting for you.

She turns around, fluttering her onyx hair while holding her towel on her shoulder, and disappears through the door to leave you alone.

You put the little intercom on; tapping twice on it.

“Hello?” “Hello, Miss (Name). Would you please come to my office?” Soshiro says, playfully acting like your vice-captain. “Yes, Sir!” you say, clearly and loud. However, your insides were turned into a holy mess; the butterflies felt like Kaiju flying around your stomach.

You run; you couldn’t hide it anymore. The halls of that base felt endless, why did it feel like Soshiro’s office had changed places with any other room?!

It took you a couple of minutes to get there. Panting, you wait for a couple of seconds to regulate your breathing. A single desktop lamp turned on guides you to his desk. However, Soshiro isn’t there, but a washi paper wrapped box waiting for you with a note on it.

“Dear (Name), please wear this and talk to me so that I can guide you to your next destination. Be aware the clothing and the hair pin you will find inside this box has a long history in the Hoshina family ~”

Your eyes get a little watery; you weren’t exactly sure on what to expect… but this is definitely something better than what you could ever. This seems truly romantic, and you are by far speechless.  

You open the box, taking care of not ruining the paper… you really wish to keep at least a piece of it. Inside it lays an even more beautiful piece of traditional clothing than the one you wore at his apartment; a yukata, purple with hints of lilac flowers, typical Fukushima Aizu patterns from where the Hoshina clan are the originally founders.

The hair piece, looks like two little representation of katanas imbued in sakura flowers of silver and purple little stones.

You cover your face in total awe; deep inside you still think you don’t deserve to wear such beautiful piece of art. But you end up doing it, Hoshina Fukutaichou said so, right?

The Japanese silk falls so delicate on your skin, kissing it softly with cold pecks on every mark he has left on you. You take a last look at your image on the little mirror he keeps on his office, still unable to process how beautiful you look, and double tap your intercom.

“You ready, princess?” he asks, curious.

“I am… Soshiro, this is… beautiful” you whisper, blushing harder with every word you mouth.

“Not as you, (Name). Now, please walk to the back of the base. There is a zen garden, you will find your next surprise there… and the answer you’ve been waiting for”

“Yes, Soshiro ~”

Walk? He said walk? who could walk?

Run, run, run. Your hair set free, only holding by a single strand to silver blades,   dances with the wind your own speed creates. Run, run, run. Through the halls of the base that’s been your home, your dream and your begin and end….

Fairy lights look like blurry dots, like fireflies, by the end of the hall; you run to catch them all. To see him, to hear an answer your heart already knows.

“Soshiro!” you whisper, when you stop all of a sudden, noticing how beautiful the Zen garden had been decorated. Warm lights, and every branch of the bamboo holding little multi-coloured papers… have you forgotten? It’s the night of Tanabata.

Your lips tremble, your eyes become watery once again; never experienced something more beautiful, even more because it was prepared for you… and only for you.

“Welcome ~” he sings, lifting his two hands and indexes up. “You look, and I know I told you this before, so beautiful wearing my family’s clothing… Please tell me you are the type of person who loves Tanabata” he continues, a little insecure now.

You wipe a little tear off the corner of your eye; anything you could love or even hate means nothing compared to him… you are the type of person who loves… him.

“This is… more than beautiful… why? I don’t deser-“ you start, but his hands grabbing yours stop you from keep on talking.

“You do deserve it; shall we write our desires in the little papers? Let’s go, I’m sure the Hanabi are about to start ~”

You nod, following him to a little table where two little papers lay on top, and each one has a pen to write on. Soshiro allows you to write yours, and then he does with his, not before asking you to wait until you read.

When both are ready, he guides you with your little paper towards one of the trees. Such tree, the tallest of them all, seemed to be fading into the night sky. Stars shining like diamond dots, like the river that separated Orihime and Hikoboshi but not you two.

“Let me tie yours, and you tie mine” he whispers, while both exchange your desires. As you grab his, you proceed to read...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“I wish to be yours, (Name)”

“Soshiro… is this…?” “That’s my answer, (Name)… I really, really wish to be yours. Can you cut open this jail and set me free from this doubts? Am I yours? You are the one to tell me so” “Read mine, and you will find the answer Soshiro…”

ㅤㅤ“For him, the man who set me free with cuts of love, to be mine forever”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ… ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑬𝑵𝑫 ~

dear reader: thank you for reading! hope you liked this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! hope all your dreams come true! 💕 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Sashi 🌱

[bwabys-scenarios]

Hello first timer here, Can I request for hcs for Gojo, Nanami and Choso wherein their frail darling manages to escape but not so far because they end up getting a fever from all the stress

No Escape

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

REQUESTS: OPEN

warnings: obsessive behavior, kidnapping, delusional mindset, choso breaks your leg

taglist:

If you would like to be added to the SFW Yandere!JJK taglist, please comment a ❤️(red heart emoji). You must have your age in your bio and have a tagable/mentionable blog!

Yandere Prompt List

Gojo

-He doesn’t keep you too locked up considering you’re not very strong, even a bit frail.

-You are usually left alone in his home when he’s busy, just with the front door locked. He’s already made you well aware that no matter what you do, he’ll always find you

-Unfortunately, you’re tired of being imprisoned and want to go outside. It wasn’t your attempt to escape really, you just wanted some fresh air and time in the sun.

-You didn’t expect it to be so cold. You only had on a pair of socks and slippers, along with a tshirt and pajama pants. As you walk around, you notice how out of the way your “home” is. Even if you wanted to run to someone for help, you couldn’t. If you did happen upon someone, Gojo may just kill them for trying to help you.

-After walking for 30 minutes, you collapse in the snow from fever. It doesn’t take long once Gojo comes home for him to find you. He’s nearly distraught with worry, taking you back to his home and calling Shoko to come take a look at you.

-When you wake up, instead of a punishment or yelling, he pulls you into his arms. This is the first time you’ve seen Gojo cry. “Please… never worry me like that again. I was terrified that I lost you…”

Nanami

-Now, even despite your condition, Nanami is much more careful keeping you confined and safe. It’s almost obsessive with the way he fawns over you, making sure you’re comfortable yet also being gator you’re not very capable of escaping.

-Even though you’re treated well, being locked up is boring. One day, you decide to attempt an escape, wanting your freedom.

-You don’t get very far before you collapse, your frail body and midn too stressed to continue. When Nanami finds you, he picks you up as gently as possible and carries you home.

-for your bad behavior you’re now forced to wear a chain on your ankle when he leaves, but to nip the problem of your boredom in the bud, he allows you to watch TV and buys you new books to keep your mind occupied. Nanami isn’t evil and he knows what he’s done to you is wrong, so he tries to be understanding and keep you comfortable.

-He is more cautious and paranoid for the next few weeks though, barely leaving you home alone for more than thirty minutes. It’s not that he thinks you’ll actually have a successful escape attempt, no, he doesn’t want you to get yourself hurt from over exertion.

Choso

-You are very much infantilized by Choso. He treats you like a sickly child, trying to feed and bathe you when you’re feeling tired. He never thought you would even think of escaping his grasp. In his mind, you desperately need his care and attention to survive.

-So when he finds you collapsed in the middle of the woods a few yards away from the small cabin he put you in, let’s just say he goes full on insane with worry and stress.

-He carries you back of course, making sure your fever is down before he settles on what he’s going to do. Choso’s delusional mind has been confronted with the fact that you’re not as innocent and frail as he thought. He’ll need to take drastic measures to insure you don’t get out again.

-he has tears streaming down his face when he breaks your leg, sobbing out apologies while you scream in agony. “So sorry princess, it’s for your own good, I promise. Shh, shh, don’t cry. It won’t hurt for much longer.”

-He has always called you princess, but after breaking your leg you are treated like one more than before. He does everything for you, making sure you take your pain medicine and eat well. Choso even bathes you, and is glad to see your need to escape vanish once you’re all healed. He only has to remind you of this experience when you’re being bratty once for you to fall in line.

-Choso hates that you fear him, but he’s happy you’re more compliant now. It means you’re safe, and if he has to be the villain to maintain your safety, so be it.

[idkyetxoxo]

Criston Cole - The Realm's Delight

Summary - Sworn protector of the heir, but he finds it impossible to resist looking out for her younger sister, a spirited tease who delights in tormenting him at every turn. Her playful antics and sharp wit challenge his resolve, leaving him both exasperated and inexplicably drawn to her.

Pairing - Criston Cole x Targaryen reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2151

Masterlist for Criston • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

Rhaenyra and I were our father's greatest challenges, constantly testing his patience and causing no end of headaches. Together, we shared the unofficial title of the realm's delights notorious for our spirited antics.

Rhaenyra, being older by a year, had inherited the weighty title of heir. This fact, however, did little to dampen my spirits. I preferred a life of lighthearted amusement and contentment, fully aware that such freedom would vanish under the weight of her future responsibilities.

"I'm rather bored," I murmured, a sentiment that earned a quiet giggle from Rhaenyra. 

Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, shot us both disapproving looks, a common occurrence whenever we indulged in our irreverent banter.

"Make haste and choose your protector I added, to which she wrinkled her nose in silent agreement. 

The arrival of the next knight was a welcome distraction. He was the same knight from the tourney last week, his dark curls cascading loosely over his face, his eyes gleaming with a focused intensity that intrigued both of us.

With a single knowing glance exchanged between us, Rhaenyra made her choice effortlessly.

The knight visibly honoured and not at all concealing his pride, knelt before us to swear his oath. His voice carried the weight of solemnity as he recited the vows that inducted him into the esteemed ranks of the Kingsguard, becoming my sister's sworn protector.

"I could never tire of having him by my side," I remarked casually as the ceremony concluded, earning a laugh from Rhaenyra. "But I must depart, dear sister. Lingering here any longer, I fear, would lead to my demise," I teased, and she flashed a mischievous smile in response.

As I stepped away from my sister's side, I couldn't resist casting a lingering glance at her chosen protector. Our eyes met, his gaze unwavering and filled with a hint of intrigue that mirrored my own.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

Months had passed since Ser Criston Cole had been appointed as my sister Rhaenyra's sworn protector, and their relationship had evolved into something rather intriguing. 

He seemed almost like a loyal pup, ever at her beck and call, shadowing her through the halls of the castle with a watchful eye and a steady presence.

While I admired his dedication, I often found myself feeling like a forgotten ghost, drifting further from Rhaenyra as her responsibilities as heir demanded more of her time.

With her burdens weighing heavily on her shoulders, I began to wander the castle's labyrinthine corridors alone, seeking mischief in the quiet corners. The once vibrant laughter we shared had faded, replaced by the solemnity of her duties and the formality of court life.

One restless moonlit evening, unable to sleep, I slipped out of my chambers with cautious steps, the chill of the stone floor sending shivers up my spine. Before I could make any real progress down the hall, a firm hand on my shoulder startled a yelp from my lips.

"Ser Criston," I gasped, hand flying to my heart as he narrowed his eyes at me, the moonlight catching the sharp angles of his face.

"It's late. Where could you possibly be headed alone?" His voice carried a mix of concern and authority that was hard to ignore.

"Ser Criston, you are sworn protector of my sister, the heir, not me," I pointed out, crossing my arms defiantly, a boldness I hoped would deter him.

"Protecting the heir includes ensuring her sister doesn't find herself in trouble," he countered evenly, his gaze unwavering and piercing, like a blade cutting through the night.

"And who says I was getting into trouble?" I challenged, though I knew he saw right through my bravado. "It's not your concern," I added, attempting to walk away, but his grip tightened, stopping me in my tracks.

His hand slipped to my wrist, and I felt the warmth of his touch despite the cool air. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, perhaps curiosity or concern, but it was enough to make me pause.

"Where are you going?" he asked again, this time with a softer edge to his voice.

I glanced back at him, a smirk playing at my lips. I trailed a finger along a lock of his dark hair, letting it slide between my fingers as I met his gaze. "Why do you wish to accompany me? Am I so fascinating that even a knight like you can't resist?"

His eyes followed the movement of my finger, and for a moment, I could see the conflict in his expression but then his hand moved, firmly pushing mine away.

"Princess, I cannot allow you to leave," he insisted firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "Do not make me force you."

"Force me?" I retorted, meeting his gaze with a sharp glare, daring him to follow through but before I could react, he effortlessly lifted me and threw me over his shoulder, catching me completely off guard.

"Ser Criston put me down this instant!" I protested, squirming as he carried me back toward my chambers, my indignation flaring.

"I cannot, Princess," he replied calmly, his footsteps steady and sure as he opened the door and placed me gently on my feet. "Go to bed," he instructed, the authority in his voice unyielding.

"Go to bed," I mocked under my breath, feeling a mix of annoyance and something else entirely as he turned to leave. After a few moments, I convinced myself enough time had passed and cautiously cracked open my door, peering out into the corridor, only to find Criston still standing watch.

"I'm not leaving until I'm certain you will not try to flee," he stated firmly, his presence unwavering and resolute, like a sentinel guarding against the night.

Grumbling in frustration, I slammed the door shut, shedding my cloak in a fit of annoyance before collapsing onto my bed. I buried my face in my pillow, muffling a scream of frustration before exhaustion finally overtook me, forcing sleep upon my restless mind.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

I strolled through the sunlit courtyard, the warmth of the day casting a gentle glow over the knights engaged in their training. It was a welcoming scene, not something I often indulged in.

Finding respite on a weathered bench, I shielded my eyes from the sun's glare with my hands, momentarily lost in the tranquillity of the moment. The fresh scent of blooming flowers mingled with the earthy aroma of the courtyard, wrapping me in a comforting embrace.

"Princess," a knight called out in surprise, pulling me from my reverie. I looked up to see Ser Arys and Ser Lorent standing with a few others, preparing for a friendly spar.

"Ser Arys, Ser Lorent," I greeted warmly, a smile breaking across my face as I rose to approach them.

Before I could adjust to the bright light, one of the knights stepped forward, effortlessly blocking the sun's glare for me. "Allow me," he said with a slight bow.

"You are ever so kind," I acknowledged gently, placing a grateful hand on his arm. His bashful reaction, a subtle reddening of his cheeks, brought a smile to my lips,

In the distance, I noticed Ser Criston watching intently, his expression unreadable as he sharpened his sword. I dismissed the feeling stirring within me and focused on the knights before me.

"Princess, may I receive your blessing?" Ser Arys requested. "A kiss from you upon my sword will still my beating heart and give me the strength required to win this match."

I met his gaze, allowing a soft smile to grace my lips. My eyes flickered briefly towards Criston, who tightened his grip on his sword, a slight tension in his posture that didn't go unnoticed.

"Fairest Princess, the realm's delight, this match will be in devotion to you," Ser Arys continued earnestly, holding his sword out, the blade glinting in the sunlight.

With a graceful gesture, I leaned down and pressed a small kiss upon the blade of his sword. The moment felt charged, and as I glanced up, I caught Criston's intense gaze, his jaw set tight and fists clenching the hilt of his sword. 

The subtle edge of tension in the air shifted, stirring something deeper within me.

As the friendly sparring match unfolded in the courtyard, I watched with keen interest, my attention alternating between the rhythmic clash of swords and the knights' determined expressions. 

Ser Arys fought with a vigour that spoke of both skill and devotion, fueled by the blessing I had bestowed upon him.

With swift manoeuvres and calculated strikes, Ser Arys emerged victorious, cheers and applause erupting from the onlookers. I couldn't help but join in, clapping enthusiastically as he bowed gracefully before me.

"Well done, Ser Arys!" I exclaimed, a genuine smile brightening my features. The joy of the moment bubbled within me, and in an impulsive gesture, I leaned forward to kiss his cheek lightly in congratulation.

Ser Arys's cheeks flushed crimson at the unexpected display of affection, his eyes widening in surprise. The knights around us chuckled good-naturedly, teasing him amidst their own laughter.

"Thank you, Princess," Ser Arys managed to say, his voice tinged with both gratitude and bashfulness. 

He straightened up, instinctively touching the spot where my lips had briefly brushed against his cheek, a gesture that revealed his delight.

In the periphery of my vision, I caught Ser Criston's reaction a subtle shift in his demeanour, his expression unreadable yet observant. His eyes briefly met mine, and for a fleeting moment, I sensed a depth of jealousy.

Ser Arys, still blushing but visibly uplifted, rejoined his fellow knights with a newfound confidence, his victory not just a triumph in skill but a cherished memory of a princess's favour.

As the day drew to a close, I lingered in the courtyard a while longer before taking my leave.

Walking through the halls, I hummed quietly to myself, the lingering warmth of the sun leaving me in high spirits. However, my reverie was abruptly interrupted when someone stepped into my path with purposeful strides.

"Ser Criston," I greeted, noting the intensity in his approach. His eyes were sharp, and his demeanour was far from casual.

"Princess," he replied with a nod, his voice laced with an urgency that piqued my curiosity.

"I watched you out there," he stated bluntly, his gaze unwavering. I blinked slowly, feigning nonchalance.

"Did you?" I questioned lightly, tilting my head slightly in a show of innocence.

"I watched you give your favour to Ser Arys," he continued, his tone betraying a hint of jealousy that sent a ripple of surprise through me.

"And what of it?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "It was a harmless gesture, a token of encouragement."

"Harmless?" he repeated, stepping closer, his tone tinged with a mixture of frustration and something deeper, something more personal. "You leaned forward and kissed his cheek, Princess. That is not merely a token of encouragement."

I felt a flush of irritation rise within me, masking my surprise at his unexpectedly strong reaction. 

"Ser Criston," I began, my voice steady, "as a knight of the Kingsguard, your duty is to protect my sister, not to question my actions."

"Protecting the heir includes ensuring her family does not fall into inappropriate entanglements," he countered, his eyes flashing with intensity.

"Inappropriate entanglements?" I echoed, my temper flaring. "You presume too much, Ser Criston. My actions were nothing but a gesture of gratitude for his performance in the match. Nothing more."

He exhaled heavily, his jaw clenched. "It may appear that way to you, Princess, but to others, it may suggest something else."

"Why should it matter to you how others perceive it?" I demanded, stepping closer, my eyes searching his for an answer. "Are you jealous, Ser Criston?"

His silence spoke volumes. We both knew the answer, even if it remained unspoken.

"My duty is to protect," he said finally, his voice low and measured. "And sometimes, that means protecting you from the consequences of your own actions."

Our gazes locked into a silent battle of wills, both of us fully aware of the underlying tension. "Very well, Ser Criston," I said, my voice tinged with defiance. "Next time I seek the company of a knight, perhaps I'll ask for you."

A flustered expression crossed his features, and he momentarily looked away, his composure faltering. The sight of his discomfort brought a mischievous smirk to my lips.

"Princess," he began, regaining his composure, "this is not a game. The consequences of your actions—"

"Are mine to bear," I interrupted firmly. "I appreciate your concern, Ser Criston, but I am not a child to be coddled."

He exhaled heavily, his frustration palpable. "I am not questioning your judgment, Princess. I am merely reminding you of the responsibilities that come with your station."

"And I am reminding you, Ser Criston, that I am more than capable of handling those responsibilities," I retorted, standing my ground.

With that, I brushed past him, my heart pounding in my chest. His presence lingered like a shadow, a constant reminder of the boundaries I was both confined by and determined to test.

A/n - Criston's always sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, but honestly, he's too pretty not to write for.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Bluebird — Part VII — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and reader’s relationship with growing, but so are the tensions between human and fae. Reader is being yanked back and forth between what she think she knows, and what she knows she feels.

Click here to be added to the Bluebird taglist! Please remember to check your settings and make sure you can be tagged! 💕

Word Count: 5k.

Warnings: Mentions of masturbation/sex. Mentions of violence.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Weeks passed, and thus began a routine.

You found yourself thankful for your father’s campaigns against the fae, only because of the freedom it afforded you. Him being away for stints at a time meant you had the inn to yourself, time to yourself — your excitement for which would once have been about losing yourself in your music.

Somehow…somehow, that enthusiasm had bled so heavily into the other factor at play. That with your father gone, you were able to have secret meetings with the man — male — who had begun to consume every one of your thoughts.

Awake, you daydreamed about him. Asleep, he visited you there, too. You had never felt so giddy, never known any feeling like it.

And for a fae male, too.

Sometimes, you wondered if you should feel guilt. For lying to your father, going behind his back. For the fact that Azriel came from the same species that had brutally taken your mother from you.

But this small, secret thing — whatever it was blossoming into — was solely yours. And it brought you such happiness that everything else seemed to fade away.

For three weeks now, Azriel had visited you without fail. On the same night, at the same time. The two of you had devised a signal — he would fly above the inn, and if your bedroom curtains were open, all was well and it was safe for him to winnow into your room. It had worked flawlessly, become a routine.

The only difference between those three visits was that he’d stayed longer each time. You certainly weren’t complaining.

Now, you sat at the dressing table in your bedroom, the curtains wide open and the stars winking at you in the sky. Your father’s campaign had taken him to a village a couple of hours south this week. The inn was locked up for the night, still and silent.

It wasn’t long before you were feeling that telltale prickle of awareness at the back of your neck — the one that always came seconds before Azriel stepped out of thin air. You turned on your dressing stool just as he materialised before you.

You supposed you were opposites in your appearance. He was all dark leathers and brutal weapons and snaking shadows. You were delicate as moonlight, in the slip of a nightgown, your hair unbound and face open. Opposites, and yet in a way that was most poetic.

“Sorry I’m a little late,” Azriel said by way of greeting. A little late was no more than five minutes. “I had some business to attend to at home.”

“I’ll forgive you this time,” you teased, your mouth curving into the small, giddy smile that you were sure you so often wore around him. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine. Especially now that I’m here,” he held a scarred hand out to you. “How shall we spend our time tonight?”

Cooped up in the inn, there were only so many things you and Azriel could do together. But talking for hours, or reading to one another, or losing yourselves in music…Azriel didn’t seem to tire of any of it. If it bothered him that you couldn’t venture outside for a late-night stroll, he hid it marvellously.

“Are you hungry?” you asked. “I could dig out some food for a late dinner,” your eyes darted to the clock at your bedside. Gone midnight. “A very late dinner.”

A deep caress of a chuckle left him. “Sounds wonderful.”

So Azriel kept you company as you dug through your kitchen for anything that didn’t require cooking. As you gathered a small feast of cheese, cold meats, grapes and bread, it occurred to you that you had never once wondered what food might be like on the other side of the wall. What kind of foods did the fae even eat? Did elaborate dishes interest them, or was food just a means for sustenance? Did some have cravings? A sweet tooth? Allergies—

“What,” a deep voice brought you out of your thoughts, “are you thinking so hard about?”

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, and you couldn’t bite back your smile as Azriel buried his chin into your shoulder, his mouthwatering scent enveloping you. You watched in pure fascination as a shadow danced around you and plucked a grape from the plate.

“Do they…eat?” you blinked, purely amazed that the fruit didn’t fall through the mist-like form.

“The shadows?” Azriel chuckled gently. “No. They need no sustenance. They just…are.”

“And what of your kind?”

He paused. “My kind?”

“Faeries. Do you eat to stay alive, or do you eat because food tastes good? What would a faerie even eat? I mean…do you buy food from the market, or do you hunt for every meal—”

“Why would we not need food to stay alive?”

Something about his tone had you faltering — a sudden edge to his voice that made you think of sharp blades and brutal night. A beat passed before you turned in his arms to look up at him, read his face. But nothing was to be found there. Not by an untrained eye, anyway.

“Aren’t you immortal?” you asked.

“The fae live a very, very long time — provided we take care of our bodies.” Azriel answered tightly. “But we are living beings. We can be weakened, and we can be hurt — as you well know, considering you removed the ash arrows I was shot with.”

You hadn’t stopped to think of that. The memory of his pain, though, made you want to flinch.

“Yes, we enjoy food just as much as humans do. And we need nutrition and sustenance, just as humans do. Perhaps not in the same way, but we need it all the same, and the majority of us do not need to hunt for it.” His eyes — somewhat guarded and reserved — scanned your face. “We think and we feel. We are not just beings of violent tendencies made into appealing mirages to lure people in. We are not hollow statues capable only of bad.”

The words hung between you, strangely haunting and stunning. And it was amidst those words that you realised a wall had been ever so slightly risen. That you’d touched a raw nerve.

“My question offended you,” you breathed, still somewhat taken aback by the fervour with which he’d spoken.

It was Azriel, then, who faltered — and studied you.

His eyes flicked over your face, and something softened imperceptibly in his own.

“I know…I know you have more reason to think negatively of my kind than you do positively,” he lowered his gaze. “I know that you, personally, have suffered at our hands, and gods, if I knew who had caused you such pain, I would—” he cut himself off. Took a breath. Seemed to force himself to relax. “I understand why you think and feel what you do—”

“I didn’t mean to offend you.”

His eyes met yours again. They were once more the warm, honeyed eyes you’d grown used to these past weeks. “I know,” he admitted. “I just…don’t want you to think of me as a monster. I want you to know that not all of us are bad.”

That wasn’t so hard to wrap your head around, was it? There was good and bad all over the human realm. Why would it not be the same across the wall?

You just…needed to accept that the fae weren’t strictly how you had always been raised to believe. Not all of them, anyway.

Certainly not Azriel.

“I know,” you said earnestly, and his shoulders relaxed even more. “I’m sorry.”

“As am I.”

Your brow furrowed. “For what?”

A mischievous glimmer lightened his beautiful eyes, and his lips quirked into a smile as the shadow — that same one from before, grape and all — swam through the air to his mouth. And pushed the grape between his waiting lips.

“For stealing a grape,” he smirked.

You grinned, relieved that the tension was gone, and repeated your earlier words. “I’ll forgive you this time.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Bellies full, you drained your glass of wine and lounged back.

You and Azriel had thrown a blanket on the floor of your sitting room, your backs pressed against the worn sofa and your finished food in front of you. A makeshift indoor picnic of sorts.

Sitting together like this, it was easy to let the rest of the world drain away. A distinct feeling existed between you that you’d known Azriel far longer than you’d even been alive, and that came with ease, with comfort.

You nestled back against the couch cushions, allowing yourself to drink in the sight of the male at your side. He sat with his head tipped back and eyes closed — content to soak in the moment. So, so beautiful, you weren’t sure you could breathe. And to think he was at your house, by your side.

A shadow drifted up, lingering at his ear. Azriel seemed to stiffen, before his lips tipped up into a smile, his eyes opening and immediately finding yours.

As if…as if that shadow had told him you’d been staring. Had it known what you were thinking, too?

You narrowed your eyes, watching every fluid lope that it took back to his side. “Do they always tell you what I’m doing?”

Azriel chuckled — seemed impressed that you’d figured it out. “Not always.”

“But sometimes.” A thought struck you — one that had your face flushing. “Do they…do they know what I’m doing, even when they’re not here?”

“No,” the shadowsinger angled his head curiously. “Why?”

You shook your head. A change of subject was definitely in order.

Because it would be a lie to say that these past weeks, you hadn’t grown more…curious, in your body. In the sensations that had been awoken like kindling to a flame.

You’d had them before, of course, like you imagined most women your age had. But those desires hadn’t truly been desirous. They’d been…dulled, easy to ignore.

That had changed, as of late.

A couple of times now, you had awoken from dreams of rippling muscle, tan skin, wings. A melodic voice had lingered in your ears, and a heat had ached between your legs that hadn’t been relieved until you were following instinct and touching yourself, exploring yourself. You’d writhed in your bed and drenched yourself with sweat and muffled a cry as you’d crested that hill into release.

And it was Azriel that you’d thought about through it all.

Recalling it now had your cheeks scorching.

Azriel sucked in a slow breath, and his voice was a little strained as he asked, “What does that look mean?”

You cleared your throat. Shook your thoughts off. “I was wondering something.”

“…Wondering what?”

How to phrase the foreign thoughts that were filling your head at an alarming pace? This was all new to you — not just the clandestine meetings with a fae male, but every thought, feeling and sensation that seemed to follow. You were feeling too many things to keep up with.

And right then, in that split second, the thought that suddenly plagued you had you feeling something…unpleasant. Itchy and bitter.

“…Don’t you have anyone else you could be doing this with?” you asked, and Azriel’s brow immediately pinched. “Don’t get me wrong, I like having you here — I want you here…” Gods, you were making a mess of this. You flushed scarlet, wishing you’d just kept your mouth shut. “I just mean…another woman. Female.”

Azriel paused, seeming…surprised by the question. And you…you would have been happy for the ground to swallow you whole.

But then he was shifting on the spot, wings rustling, shadows stirring. He angled himself towards you and asked, “Do you mean…lovers?”

Yes, yes you did. But your nerve had vanished. Your cheeks burned.

Still, Azriel read the confirmation in your eyes. He studied you with an unreadable expression.

“I’ve had lovers.” Of course he had — five centuries was a long, long time to be alive. “Right now, though, I do not. I don’t see anyone. Except you.”

Shameful relief stormed you. There was no label on the, quite frankly, strange relationship you had with this male. Yes, you met regularly. Yes, the two of you kissed — a lot. But Azriel was his own person with his own needs. He was well within his right to fulfill them if he did so wish. With someone…experienced.

It made your heart pinch, though.

You were stolen from your thoughts by warm, scarred fingers touching your jaw. Azriel gently turned your face towards him.

“Have you been worrying about that?” he asked. “That I come here to see you, and then fall into bed with somebody back home?”

Such gentleness in his tone. You swallowed, reading his face. “I have no right to worry about it. You are…unattached. If you need to find release in somebody—”

“I don’t need to at all.” His voice was like silk. And his eyes…they unmistakably flickered down to your lips. “And on the contrary, I’m very much attached.”

Like a switch in your brain, that bitter, oily jealousy was replaced by…want. Need. To taste his mouth again.

Though he was the most common instigator of your kisses, there was no denying you’d grown in confidence with each one since that very first time. And that confidence aided you now, as you leaned forward and settled your hand on Azriel’s jaw. Slid your lips over his.

He kissed you back without hesitation, a pleased hum seeming to sound in a deep part of his chest. And just as you always did, you were becoming lost in no time, in his scent and his taste and the weight of his mouth on yours.  

But this time was different, because you were different. More curious, more confident. You didn’t want to shy away from your intrigue or the new experiences that hovered just out of reach. You didn’t…didn’t want to just be the girl whose life was confined to this inn in this village. You wanted more.

Wanted Azriel.

You shifted where you sat, not breaking the kiss as you tucked your legs beneath you and pushed onto your knees. Azriel’s hand immediately steadied your waist, its heat permeating your clothes — and that in itself was…pleasurable. You breathed a sigh into his mouth, inching closer, closer, your hand slipping down to the collar of his tunic.

But just as quickly, he was pulling away. Pulling his lips from yours.

He panted, something dark and tempting in his eyes. And much to your disappointment, he rasped out, “We need to stop.”

You tried not to let your shoulders slump. “Why?”

“Because we’re getting carried away.”

You stared at him — his utter perfection. Did he…did he not want to take things that far with you? Maybe you’d read entirely too much into his kisses, more heated with every stroke. Maybe this was simply fun for him, and you…you would never cross his mind, if he were to take another lover.

You didn’t understand any of this. How it was supposed to work.

You rocked back on your rear, heat creeping up your neck — a different, unpleasant kind. One that made you want to bury your face and hide.

But before you could move another inch, Azriel was grabbing your hand.

“Don’t do that,” he said softly.

Your eyes inched up to his. “What?”

“Don’t be ashamed or embarrassed of what you want. Don’t regret having confidence.”

“…You don’t want it though, do you?”

He stared back at you. Confirmation enough.

“You don’t want me — like that. Because I’m inexperienced, or—”

He squeezed your hand. “It has nothing to do with that.”

“Then what is it?”

His eyes swept over you again, and they were…open — perhaps more open than he was normally comfortable with. Your own gaze fell to your joined hands, as he brushed his thumb across the back of your palm, and then laced his fingers in between yours. Locked them together.

“When we take things further,” he said, “I want to know that you trust me. I want to offer myself to you, knowing that you have no doubts about me. And I don’t think you’re there yet.”

“I—”

“It’s alright,” he squeezed your fingers once. “You do not have to justify anything. You have valid reasons for not trusting my kind, and I respect them,” his lips quirked up into a small, teasing smile. “It just means that I’ll have to put the work in to gain that trust.”

Your heart, in that moment, threatened to burst out of your chest. And perhaps things were changing, because you couldn’t imagine that many human men would offer such patience and understanding. Such respect. Azriel cared more about your trust than his pleasure.

Would this male ever stop surprising you?

“It’s not—not you,” you murmured, allowing your thumb to explore his scarred skin. “It’s just…complicated.”

“I know. Like I said, you don’t have to justify it,” he scooted closer, his leg now touching yours. “But…look at me, Y/N.”

You did.

You lifted your gaze to his face — and it wasn’t just the beauty that constantly threatened to bowl you over, but what now sat within it.

You didn’t need experience to know that desire coloured his face. That the way he swallowed, hard, seemed to be some sort of coping mechanism — to rein himself in.

“I do not want you thinking, for one second, that I don’t want you…like that.” His voice held a sudden grit that made you shiver. “Because believe me — I do. I want you, and I think about you, and when you’re ready — when you trust me — I will be honoured to give myself fully to you.”

The words alone…gods, they only made your blood burn fiercer. And you understood Azriel’s reasoning, respected it. But that didn’t mean you weren’t still aching.

“You’re not helping,” you groaned, bowing your head.

A silken chuckle skittered over you, and Azriel’s lips were at your cheek, brushing a kiss there.

“I’ve waited a very long time for you,” he murmured. “I can wait a little longer.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

It was hard, flitting between the two versions of yourself.

There was the version of you that you’d always known — the one who pulled pints behind the bar at the Bluebird Inn and knew everybody in the village whether you wanted to or not. The version of you that had never considered life outside of this miserable place, because it had always seemed pointless, fruitless.

And then there was the newer version of you. The one who looked forward to that cloak-and-dagger meeting every week, when the most beautiful person you’d ever laid eyes upon would give you hours of his time and company and make you feel like…someone else. Someone more. The version of yourself who laughed and kissed and explored. Who had begun to crave.

You were starting to think the newer version of yourself was the better one. And with every moment Azriel wasn’t here, you were starting to miss him more and more.

Particularly right now, with your father and his cadre home from this week’s campaign. The taproom was full of their booming voices and their arrogantly loud laughter. All you could do was stand behind the bar and watch as they riled each other with tales of the fae and fantasised about retaliation, revenge. It was all they seemed able to talk about.

It bothered you in a way it never had before.

Perhaps because you knew of at least one good fae. Or perhaps because you still hadn’t told Azriel that the human rebellion he’d been made aware of was lead by your father. That he and his men discussed their strategy, their plans, in the very building that you spent such idyllic time with Azriel in every week.

Two versions of yourself, indeed.

Even Devin was here. It seemed he’d finally been swayed to join your father’s cause. A guard-in-training turned rebel. You’d have to be careful about the eye he so often had on you.

Heaving a soft sigh, you spared a glance at the clock. It didn’t seem that any of your father’s group had plans to leave any time soon. Still filthy from days on the road, they seemed content to make use of the bar rather than to return to their respective homes. You just wanted to go to bed. To lay staring at the ceiling and wonder what your winged…friend was doing at the exact same moment.

“Loud, aren’t they?”

Your gaze crept over to Devin, where he took up his usual seat at the bar. He shot you a winning smile that you knew would make every girl in the village swoon.

And yet…where your stomach would usually erupt with butterflies, you felt…nothing.

He was handsome, there was no doubt. But that charm paled in comparison to Azriel’s beauty.

“Just a bit,” you agreed, your eyes flickering to the gathering of unwashed, rowdy men at the centre table. “I don’t know how they don’t tire of having the same conversation over and over.”

Devin cocked an eyebrow. “Well, now, they’re just passionate about the cause. Aren’t you? Surely your father has spoken to you about it at length.”

He had — for the entirety of your life. You knew the cause inside out.

You just weren’t sure it was entirely right anymore.

“Of course he has,” you replied. “I support my father wholeheartedly. Sometimes I just wonder…”

Your words trailed off. This was tricky territory. You couldn’t go around sharing your thoughts just because Azriel was…different.

But Devin leaned forward encouragingly. “Wonder what?”

You studied him. Would it be so wrong, to suggest that good, honest fae were out there? It didn’t wipe away the atrocities that had been committed, of course, but to have an open mind wasn’t a bad thing.

And certainly not for a village guard, either. To be broad-minded, sometimes merciful.

“I just wonder if there’s good and bad in everyone,” you relented a little too quickly. It surprised you…how much you wanted to talk about it, make your point. “There are good and bad humans. Who’s to say that such isn’t the case with the fae? And if it is…should the good fae be punished for what the bad ones have done? It seems—”

“The fae are evil, Y/N,” Devin cut in, his eyes fierce. “Make no mistake about that. It’s not the same with them because they’re made differently to us. They lack what makes us good and moral. They lack compassion and care. They’re self-serving and violent to their very core, and this world cannot be improved upon until every last fae is wiped off the map.”

You blinked, taking a subtle step back. The speech seemed…extreme. You’d never seen Devin quite so aggressive. And it seemed to take a moment for him to snap out of it — to relax the hard set of his jaw, the firm grip on his glass.

His eyes shuttered, and he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, I just…I’ve seen for myself what the scum across the wall are capable of. The bodies of the village girls that were killed…it’s not an image I’m likely to ever forget.”

You studied him cautiously. “I imagine not.”

“I’d hate for you to meet the same fate, Y/N. These are dangerous times, and that filth are only growing bolder. It’s why I chose to join your father’s cause. Why I know that what he says is right.”

Such sure venom in his tone. And yet you knew…you knew that Azriel would never do anything like that.

The entire conversation made you feel sick.

But Devin clearly misread that as fear. Worry. “Get yourself to bed,” he said softly. “These idiots aren’t going anywhere any time soon. I’m sure I can pour a few drinks.”

Bed sounded like a good idea. Bed was safe. A place to think clearly.

You nodded, wiping your hands on a nearby cloth. It was all you could do to murmur a gravelly, “Thank you.”

Devin inclined his head. “Sleep well. And try not to worry,” a soft smile played on his lips. “You’re safe with us.”

You couldn’t muster a response.

But as you made it out of the stuffy taproom and headed for the stairs, you weren’t at all sure, anymore, where exactly safety lay.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“I changed the barrels.”

“Good.”

“And mopped the floors.”

“Good.”

The next morning, you eyed your father as he took his breakfast at one of the taproom tables. He was in an even stranger mood than usual. Even more…pensive. Quiet.

You cleared your throat, gathering his empty cup and plate onto a tray. His dark eyes watched every one of your movements.

“I’ll get these cleaned up,” you said. “And then if there’s nothing else to be done, I thought I might—”

“Don’t worry about that for a moment,” he jerked his head at the tray in your hands. “Come take a seat.”

You paused. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked you to sit with him.

“I want to talk to you,” he pushed. “Sit.”

As you dumped the tray on another table and pulled out the chair opposite his, a bleating panic began to scream inside your head. Had your father somehow found out about Azriel? If he had, you didn’t want to imagine what kind of punishment that would warrant—

“Devin spoke to me before he left last night.” His voice was almost too quiet. “About you.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat. “What about me?”

“He seemed concerned about you. That you don’t truly appreciate the danger that is out there. Do you?”

Fuck. You really shouldn’t have said anything to Devin. Should have known that he’d report back to your father.

“Of course I do,” you answered. And you did know what danger was out there. Your dead mother was a fine enough example.

You just…didn’t think that had to mean that the entire fae species was bad. You didn’t want it to mean that.

“Then what’s all this nonsense about wondering if there are good fae?” your father pursed his lips. “Surely you know better than anybody that there aren’t. You’re without a mother because there aren’t.”

Your body had entirely locked up in the chair. It wasn’t exactly that you were scared of your father; you didn’t think he’d ever hurt you.

But he’d spent years behind this cause, and was closer than ever to it coming to something. This was his purpose, his passion, the thing he cared about perhaps more than anything else in the world, you included. To debate him on it…to question it…it was the worst thing you could possibly do.

You forced yourself to shrug, to look meek and clueless. “I just…asked Devin a question, that’s all,” you answered. “Sometimes I think I could know more. You could tell me more.”

It seemed so long that your father spent studying you. And as he did, you made yourself the version of you that he knew. The picture of innocence. Nothing but mild curiosity.

And then, finally, his body relaxed. He gave a slow nod. “I know you think I keep you in the dark sometimes,” he admitted. “In truth, I have. To some degree. I wanted you to have some semblance of peace and safety in this world, if only a little. But perhaps I’m doing you more harm than good.”

“I—”

“After Devin spoke to me last night, I got thinking. And I made a decision.”

You stared back at him, trying desperately not to clench your fists at your sides. Something about the resolve on his face made your stomach turn.

“What’s the decision?” you asked.

“Next week — I’ve decided I’m taking you out on the road with us. You can get a proper idea of what all of this is about. Perhaps I should have taken you with us before.”

You stared at him, lips parted, not entirely sure he couldn’t hear the shrieking that rang in your ears.

His time on the road was the precious little time you got to have with Azriel every week. What you looked forward to every week. To miss that—

And to miss it to join your father’s campaign…you were sure the colour must have drained from your face. It was bad enough that you hadn’t told Azriel that your father was the driving force behind this human rebellion. If he were to find out you’d actively participated in it…

Well, he’d surely want nothing more to do with you. The thought alone made your heart plummet into your stomach.

“I can’t go with you,” you blurted, and your father’s brow pinched. “I mean…what about this place?” you gestured to your surroundings. “No one would be here to keep the inn open.”

His shoulders relaxed, and there was even a hint of a smile on his face. “I can find someone to hold the fort for a few days, don’t you worry about that,” he reached out, mussing the hair on your head. “You’re a good girl, Y/N. But this trip is necessary. It’s time you understand what we’re up against.”

He stood from his chair, and you could do nothing but watch. There was no arguing with him. His mind was made up.

“It’s decided — you’re coming on the road with us next week,” he turned, and he didn’t look back at you as he said, filing through the door, “make sure you’re fully prepared.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

bluebird tag list: @kennedy-brooke @rosessndri @anae-naea-zacheria @iambored24601 @sirenpearldust @v3lv3tf0x @lupinswolfsbanes @alohaangels @feyretopia @janebirkln @a-dizzle777 @moonbirde @natashachelsea @navyblue-eternity @multi-reader @sfhsgrad-blog @makemeurvillain @lyinginameadow @101crows @bsenpai @honeyandhalfmoons @florencemtrash @ssmay123 @historygeekqueen @mika-no-sekai-blog @ktsskgzxlu @basicbittywitty @mybestfriendmademe @cali-flow3r @lalachat @honeybeeboobaa @azrielsbbg @eatinggummybearsisacrime @ilovemangomorethanu @rhysandorian @coralseacourt @berryzxx @pequeno-atlas @secretlyhers @grimoiregrl @just-jess-losers

[anastasiareyreed]

two years have already passed...

today, two years ago, all of Ukraine woke up to explosions, sounds of flying fighter jets, gunshots and screams of terror. today, February 24, is the anniversary of russia's invasion of Ukraine. full-scale invasion, escalation of ten-year genocide. I can't explain the feeling when I first saw wounded people, when I first heard a rocket flying overhead aimed at a residential building.

it is emotionally difficult to comprehend all the terrible events that happened during this time. everything I'm trying to cover here as soon as I get my thoughts together. and everything that I don't have enough strength for...

Bucha massacre

Mass burials in Izium

Mass execution of Ukrainian prisoners in Olenivka

The tragedy of Mariupol

Defense of Azovstal

Bakhmut Fortress

Ecological disaster in Kakhovka

The tragedy of Hroza

Tens of thousands of Ukrainian children forcibly deported to russia

Torture of civilians

The battle for Donetsk Airport

The Ilovaisk Tragedy

russian manipulation and propaganda

burning Ukrainian books, destroying Ukrainian museums and entire cities, torturing people for tattoos connected to Ukraine. forced re-education of children and adults who are forced to learn the russian national anthem, worship portraits of putin every day and receive russian documents in order to receive water and food in the occupied territories. daily shelling and casualties, daily struggle for survival and freedom, which russians want to take away from us.

all the terrible cases of execution of Ukrainian soldiers: beheadings, castration, amputation of limbs, execution of prisoners. burning civilians alive, raping women, men and children, torturing even animals, even little mice. tons of photos and videos that I don't want to add here because even the slightest glimpse of all those images breaks my heart and causes me to have a panic attack. however, you can find it all freely available on the Internet by simply typing in keywords.

instead, I would like to show photos of rallies in support of Ukraine, which took place today all over the world. to find out where each photo is from, see the alt text for them.

despite the fact that in russia they celebrate the war, Ukrainians, who were forced to flee from the war, gathered at rallies around the world, together with residents of the countries that gave them shelter. the civilized world expresses sympathy and grief, with calls to provide arms to Ukraine so that we can defeat russia as soon as possible and return peace to our lives.

it's sad that more photos can't be added to show as many cities as possible that came out to support us today. but I've been looking at all the photos and videos of the rallies all day today and I have tears of gratitude in my eyes. thank you all for continuing to stand with Ukraine!

[starrysharks]

DESIGN DEEPDIVE:

OCTAVIA KRANKENSTEIN

due to popular demand, here is my first DESIGN DEEPDIVE, where i explain all my little character designs! character design is really important to me, so i hope you guys appreciate this TwT

this deepdive goes over octavia krankenstein, the main character of my series reassassination. firstly, we'll go over shapes and color pallete, the first things you notice when looking at most character designs.

when it comes to octavia's shapes, we can see that she's primarily made of squares and triangles. this establishes two things about her right off the bat:

- she's sharp, and personality wise, probably dangerous and active.

- she's strong, and possibly stubborn.

however, a detail that i want to point out is octavia's singular circle, in the form of a button on her dress under perfect pendant. i've added this button to indicate that behind the sharp, tough exterior, octavia has some empathetic traits. the location of the button is also important, being at the heart. (this exerpt is from my own personal factfile for octavia):

"...Octavia is a particularly self-contradictory character - while she's apathetic to the idea of killing, she can't stand the idea of harming innocents - meaning she often feels the need to justify her homicidal tendencies."

the color pallete of octavia is also important. as you can see above, she's made up of two colors and a tone - black, scarlet, and seafoam green. i want to focus on black and scarlet here.

when it comes to black, i think it's an interesting color both technically and in terms of character. black was used to give octavia's design the vibe of an executioner or medieval assassin. it blends into the night, and hides bloodstains, so it makes sense for octavia to wear it as an assassin. however, this is juxtaposed by flashy red details, which indicate several things about octaiva -

- she cares a lot about fashion and the way she looks, even if it isn't functional. the style of clothing that octavia wears is heavily inspired by 2000s "mallgoth" and the general nu-metal scene, which was often red and black clothing. (cybergoth was also a small inspiration!)

- octavia is a character with a lot of freedom. this might seem like a stretch, but in color language, red indicates action, confidence, danger, passion, and power, along many other things. in canon, octavia's dress was given to her by another character (dr. krankenstein) completely black, and then octavia edited the dress herself to include red details. this on its own might seem like nothing, but the thing about octavia is that her design is complimentary to another character's; vivica de la crux.

vivica is a character who wants freedom, but has next to none, to say the least. therefore, her "red" qualities (passion, freedom, etc), are stifled, so she has very little red in her design compared to octavia. side by side, you can see that their designs have a strong contrast in this regard.

- and lastly, octavia is vulnerable in that she wears so much of her personality literally on her sleeve. while octavia may seem stoic and mysterious in terms of character, and possesses strong physical strength, she lacks social awareness and struggles in that regard, being a social outcast within the story.

alright, now it's time to go over body type, hair and outfit! these are all pretty important in my opinion.

firstly, body type. octavia's heavily exaggerated thinness which is actually inspired by that "scene kid" artstyle that you've probably seen before, and 90s/2000s cartoons and comics in general (SPECIFICALLY the art of jhonen vasquez, who made invader zim and JTHM)!

of course, octavia's hair gives her design more depth and volume, and a strong silhouette - one resembling a ghost or spiky monster. as you can see in her ref sheet, there are 3 spiked ends on either side of the hair. in fact, there are a lot of matching pairs of threes in octavia's design, aren't there?

- three bottom eyelashes on either eye - 6 in total

- three bows on either boot - 6 in total

- and of course, three hair spikes on either side - 6 in total.

that's right! octavia's design hides a secret 666, which relates to her alternative name - experiment-666 - and the fact that she's literally seen as a demon to the clear crucifix org, the antagonists of the story.

but let's look at octavia's outfit entirely. or maybe not? the thing about octavia's design is that i wanted it to be one where you could deform and modify it in various ways, and no matter how many details you remove, it's still clearly octavia. kind of like hatsune miku!

in the end, octavia is supposed to feel like a character from the 2000s, rather than just one based off of 2000s alternative culture. i don't know if i really succeeded with that, but i'm still proud of her design regardless. if you read all of this ramble to the end, thank you so much! i might do more design deepdives for other characters if people are interested. you can even request specific characters of mine if you'd like!

[cooliestghouliest]

PUTTY, chapter one

(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)

PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader

SUMMARY: Eddie has a little brother. Eddie’s little brother has a babysitter.

SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k+

A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. fun fact that this was one of the first Stranger Things fanfics i ever wrote. it was originally titled She Was Straight From Hell, But You Could Never Tell, and featured Eddie alongside an OC. i’ve changed it to be reader-insert, because that seems to be more in my writing wheelhouse nowadays. this fic will be multiple parts — it begins with backstory, but will eventually branch off into a universe of little smutty ficlets where Reader will corrupt virgin!Eddie as much as humanely possible.

—

Eddie hadn't known about the existence of his little brother until two months ago, when Al Munson showed up in the middle of the night with a small child in tow. Eddie didn't even know his dad was out of prison again, and yet here he was, in the flesh, a little boy with a mop of black curls resembling Eddie's own cradled in his leather jacket-clad arms.

Al was lucky Wayne was working or else this family reunion would have gone south fast.

While Wayne wasn't Al's biggest fan, Al was Eddie's dad, and Eddie would always hold onto as many moments with his father as he could get, no matter how sparse, and no matter how much of a self-serving piece of shit asshole Al Munson truly was.

But Eddie didn’t see it like that. Eddie saw it like this: His dad lived a hard life. His dad struggled with addictions. His dad lost a wife, just as Eddie had lost a mother. His dad tried his best with what he had.

Deep down, Eddie knew these were all just sorry excuses, but he kept that truth tucked away, not wanting to deal with the reality that Al truly only cared about himself.

He already had one dead parent. If he cut his dad out of his life, he’d basically have two.

"When'd you get out?" Eddie asked, stepping aside so Al could enter. His eyes followed the child, brows furrowed. The trailer was always Al's first stop on his freedom tour and the older man had always brought some sort of baggage along with him -- never a little kid, though. What the hell kind of trouble had his dad gotten into this time?

"Few days ago," Al replied, heading for the living room. He placed the sleeping child down on the worn sofa, then straightened and faced Eddie. "Listen, son, you gotta do me a favor. I'm not out long this time. I might've robbed an ATM or two last night. I'm kinda on the lam."

Al didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish at his wrongdoing.

Eddie was used to this. Even when Al was a free man, he was never a free man for long. He didn't think his dad knew how to coexist among non-inmate citizens. Eddie didn't think his dad even wanted to. Prison was a creature comfort for the elder Munson. Eddie wasn't necessarily mad at that fact. He was happy when Al was locked up, because then at least he knew where his dad was. Otherwise, Eddie worried his father would eventually get himself into a situation he wouldn't be able to get out of, and Eddie would really never see him again.

Eddie was also used to Al showing up after months and months, sometimes even years and years, such as now, always asking for favors.

"Who is that?" Eddie asked, pointing towards the couch, not being able to ignore the other human in the room any longer.

"Yeah, that's kinda what I need your help with.” Al rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, no way to do this other than to just say it. That there's your little brother, Eddie. His name's Oliver. And I need you and Wayne to look after him while I'm gone."

"My... what..." Eddie stammered, face scrunching up. He expected Al to burst out laughing and admit he was just fucking around, and that this tiny sleeping stranger was actually just the kid of a fellow convict buddy. Maybe it was said convict buddy’s turn to rob ATMs tonight, leaving Al the babysitter. Irresponsible. Unlikely. And, turns out, untrue.

With Al's silence, Eddie knew his dad’s admission wasn't a joke.

Eddie was beyond confused now.

"Dad, how... you've been in prison for six years!"

"Conjugal visits," Al answered with a bit of a smug shrug.

Eddie shook his head in disbelief. "What the fuck? Wayne can't afford another kid that's not even his... and I'm in school still, I can't watch him... this isn't... I don't know how..."

But Al was already making his way to the door.

"I know you'll figure it out. I can always count on you, my boy," Al prided, tone cheery as if the favor he'd just asked of Eddie was to give him a quick ride somewhere or find an old family recipe.

Al wasn't acting like he was ditching another Munson offspring off on his older brother. He was treating this like an issue of minor importance, just a little speed bump on an otherwise flat road.

Al Munson was not an upstanding person. Never had been, never would be. Because of this, Eddie shouldn't have been surprised or appalled, but here he was, standing with his mouth agape. Surprised. Appalled.

His dad was out the door with a lighthearted, "See ya 'round, son," and Eddie was left speechless in the middle of the living room.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne got over the new addition to the Munson household fairly quickly.

While he'd been livid at first, calling up all of Al's old friends he'd still had the numbers of to try and find out where his dumb shit of a younger brother was, Wayne eventually became resigned to the idea that he now had another little boy to rear and mold.

What else could he do?

Wayne took care of his kin, especially if they were innocent bystanders and had no say in being born in the first place. He'd raised Eddie, and although he knew the boy had his struggles, he didn't think he'd done too bad of a job.

Eddie never went hungry, always had clothes to wear, a bed to sleep in, and Wayne was the one who haggled Eddie's van down to a reasonable price so the boy could pay for it with his lunch box salary.

Wayne knew about the weed and the pills, but so long as Eddie stayed smart about where he was selling and who he was selling to, he didn't much mind Eddie's unconventional line of work. It helped his nephew stay somewhat social, and Wayne knew how important that would be for Eddie's future. If the boy was nothing but a lone recluse his whole life, he'd probably end up just like Al. Nobody wanted that.

Eddie was just about grown now. Sure, he was rearing twenty and still in his senior year of high school, but Wayne had an inkling that '86 would be Eddie's year.

Wayne had always thought about selling the trailer and buying an RV with retirement money once Eddie was out on his own. He wanted to travel the country for the remainder of his life.

The idea that he'd have to raise up another wild Munson for the next fifteen or so years caused a knot to form in his stomach.

Would Wayne even be around for that much longer? He may have been relatively healthy, and he was only in his mid 60's, but Wayne wasn't an idiot. He knew anything could happen at any time.

Wayne knew he needed help this time around. He figured he could count on Eddie here and there, but Eddie needed to focus on school this year if he planned on finally walking the stage. Because of this, Wayne decided to enlist the help of someone on the outside. Someone with experience.

So, he posted an ad in the Hawkins Post, looking for a full-time nanny for a five-year-old boy to start as soon as possible, and waited for a response.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne didn't have to wait long.

Two mornings following the job post, shortly after he'd returned home from work, he heard a knock on the trailer door.

When he answered, he saw a pretty young thing standing on the front stoop.

"Hi!" you greeted, then immediately began to ramble. "Are you Mr. Munson? I hope it's okay I just showed up... there wasn't a number listed, only an address, and I didn't know if you wanted me to write a response and mail it, but the ad seemed maybe a little urgent, so I thought, hey, what's the harm in just... showing... up..."

You trailed off, feeling silly for word vomiting during your first impression. He was watching you with a small smile, eyes flickering with what looked like amusement, especially as your cheeks began to color to the soft red of embarrassment.

Listing no number on the ad was intentional. He hadn't owned a rotary phone in about ten years, after having tried to cut back on bills, and he knew not just anyone would make the trek to Forest Hills for a potential job offer. He’d figured only committed applicants that wouldn't waste his time would follow through.

"I have a lot of experience," you continued on at his silence, almost as if you couldn't help it, compelled to divulge all the information you could in the first three minutes of meeting. Wayne found it endearing. "I used to babysit for three different families when I was in high school. And I have two little sisters. My mom and dad worked a lot growing up, so I spent a lot of time with them. Didn't get paid, but... I made sure they didn't die or anything..."

From their brief interaction thus far, Wayne knew he succeeded in his method of weeding out flakes. You were obviously serious about the position. He felt he was a decent judge of character, and he'd learned in life that sometimes over-explaining was synonymous with caring.

"Sorry," you said, forcing out a little laugh. "I guess I could have just introduced myself. You didn't really need to know all that." You shot your hand out, giving your name. "I'm here about the nannying gig. Um, obviously. That is, if I didn't already scare you off."

Wayne took your hand in both of his own, shaking it. He placated you with a grin. "It's a lot harder than that to scare off a Munson, sweetheart. Let's go inside and meet Olly."

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Although Oliver Munson was only five, he had a spectacular vocabulary and a limitless imagination. Wayne knew the boy was a little charmer, quite like how Eddie was when he allowed himself to be, when the teenager wasn't drowning himself in existential teenage angst and nonsense.

You fell under Olly's spell almost instantly.

And it seemed the little boy had fallen under yours as well.

Oliver didn't stop talking to you while you were there, and didn't stop talking about you after you’d left, asking when you’d be back and if next time you could take him to the trailer park's playground and maybe you two could watch G.I. Joe or He-Man together afterward.

Wayne had taken your number down before you’d left and had told you he'd be in touch soon.

Later that evening, after Eddie had gotten back from his club meeting at school, Wayne took the trip into downtown Hawkins to use the payphone and ask you if you wouldn't mind starting as early as tomorrow.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You were far from struggling for money.

Your father was a sought-after criminal prosecutor for the entirety of Indiana. Your mother was a real estate agent for high profile clientele who came from old family money; her father was CEO of a day trading business, and his father before him had been the same.

Although you likely would have never had to work a day in your life and could live a comfortable existence off of inheritance alone, handouts and the humdrum of an All-Play-and-No-Work lifestyle was never a dream of yours. That sounded so cookie cutter, so monotonous, so boring.

You liked to feel a sense of accomplishment. You liked setting goals and reaching them. You didn't want to freeload off of money that was gained from the capitalistic professions your parents were a part of. You wanted to be in control of your own finances and be the author of your own future, not have it already be etched into stone simply by being just another rich kid from Hawkins, à la the likes of the Carver's or the Cunningham's or the Harrington's.

You were ecstatic when you got the call from Wayne, asking you if you’d be willing to start the following day. He left for work at 2PM, so you’d have to be there before then, and would need to plan on staying until Wayne's nephew got home around six.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you felt a bit nervous, but the job itself wasn't the reason why that writhing feeling accompanied your excitement.

You had more than ten years of babysitting experience under your belt, and you were eager to get back into a job you actually enjoyed as opposed to trying out different careers to see what stuck and what didn't. Having graduated the spring before, you’d been taking an off year to save up money by working odd jobs around Hawkins to be able to buy your own apartment.

You’d worked as a florist for a few weeks, but it turned out your thumb was pitch black instead of green.

You worked as the personal assistant for a group of lawyers from a local law firm, but it turned out they just needed office eye candy and not someone to actually get any sort of work done.

You worked as a veterinary assistant, but it turned out the job was much more than just petting cats and dogs. You couldn't handle it when a sick animal would come in and there would be nothing anyone could do. Your heart broke more at that clinic than it had your entire life.

You were in between jobs when you’d decided to peruse the classified section of the Hawkins post. There, in the shortest blurb on the page, was a listing for a needed nanny, a full-time position offering negotiable pay.

The next bit was where the excitement wavered.

The listing was published by a Wayne Munson of the Forest Hills trailer park.

That had to be Eddie Munson's uncle. There was no way there were two separate Munson families living in the only trailer park in Kerley County.

You couldn't believe that you’d stumbled across this ad, that the geeky metalhead you’d crushed on since your freshman year of high school had a little brother you could be the potential nanny of.

You were two years younger than Eddie, but that hadn't stopped you from losing periods of time to daydreams about the way the wind ruffled his wild mess of curls on breezy days or the way his band tee sleeves always clung perfectly to the soft muscles of his biceps or the way his cheeks dimpled when he teased the other boys he sat with at lunch.

You’d always wanted to introduce yourself, but you didn't run in the same crowds -- you being on the cheer team and Eddie blasting Black Sabbath in the parking lot after his Hellfire meetings. You could never muster the courage. He seemed so carefree, so full of life, so effortlessly funny. Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend, had spoken to him once or twice and had told you how different he was than what other people said about him. He wasn't scary or mean or threatening, and instead was warm and silly and genuine.

But you knew how the people you spent your time around treated people like him. You knew your group of "friends" referred to him as a freak, a Satan worshipper, and did everything in their power to try to bully him into becoming a shell of himself. Thankfully, he never did -- it was almost as if Eddie absorbed the hatefulness and spent it tenfold by mocking the hilarity of the jock hierarchy that ruled the school, as well as using it to strengthen his own ability to embrace every misfit that walked the halls of Hawkins High.

You never introduced yourself because you were afraid he’d think you had an ulterior motive, that you’d be trying to talk to him as a joke or a prank. You knew the company you kept. You were sure Jason Carver had once or twice suggested you do just that, lead Eddie on and make a fool of him in front of the whole school.

You figured it'd be best to just stay away.

But now, you thought finding this ad was possibly a sign from the universe.

Maybe you were getting a second chance.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Eddie was running late.

He was supposed to be back home half an hour ago to relieve whoever Olly's new babysitter was of her duties, but the campaign had taken a shocking turn and Hellfire couldn't disband until it had commenced.

The night finally ended with Will's character decapitating Dustin's, and Eddie had to thwart an actual attack when Dustin leapt across the game table at Will in a bout of rage. Dustin was small but mighty, and Eddie had to physically wrestle the boy off of Will's neck, threatening to banish Dustin from the next few campaigns if he didn’t chill out. Henderson had huffed and puffed but had admitted defeat and apologized to Will for the attempted murder.

By the time Eddie arrived back to the trailer park, the sun had almost set. He pulled his van into his parking spot to the right of the trailer and shut it off. Stepping out, he swung his backpack over his shoulder, but came to a halt when he heard Olly's scream sound from behind the trailer.

Dropping his bag and beginning to run toward the noise, Eddie's heart fell to his stomach. Horrible images of what could possibly be pulling that sound from his little brother pervaded Eddie's mind. He had an overactive imagination to begin with, and something like this verbal cue only egged it on. "Olly!" he shouted, panic raising his voice. "Olly, are you okay?! What’s going on, where are --"

Eddie came to a halt when he found the boy in the backyard with a huge smile spread across his small, sweaty face. Olly had a fake crown on, one made of twigs and leaves, and he was carrying one of the biggest sticks Eddie had ever seen. He had a blanket tucked into the back of his shirt, the cloth a makeshift cape. A thin piece of metal, probably from one of the cars Wayne and Eddie sometimes worked on, was wrapped around his center, acting as armor.

Olly had just been playing.

Letting out a heavy breath of relief, Eddie noticed your frame just off to the side. His eyes started from the ground up, noting the shiny red Docs donning your feet, moving up bare legs that were covered mid-thigh by a short black skater dress, one that hugged your curves in a way that had Eddie’s mouth going dry.

By the time he reached your face, your eyes were wide with amusement.

You’d been watching as he slowly drank you in. He didn't mean to ogle. He had to shake his head a few times to clear it, and when he did so, the face before him started looking more and more familiar.

"Wait," he started, head tilting. He spoke your name, tone riddled with confusion. "From high school?"

You were about to answer when Oliver cleared his throat, obviously not wanting to be ignored or to have his playtime interrupted any longer. You looked down at the boy, who pointed up to his head at his crown. You got the gist -- Olly wanted the game to continue. You could indulge him. You’d been doing it all day, and honestly you’d been having the most fun you’d had in a while.

You turned your attention back to Eddie, fixing your posture and jutting your chin out slightly. "I don't know who that is," you began, voice lilting. "I am Princess Guinevere of Kerley County and this here,” you brought your gaze back down to Oliver, “is my most loyal servant, Sir Olly of Castle Munson."

Eddie couldn't help the grin that broke out over his face at your announcement. He then took a moment to fully take in the rest of your appearance. You, too, had on a makeshift crown, this one made up of cherry blossoms and daisies. You had a flowing blanket tucked into the back of your dress, cascading down your back like a veil.

No fucking way were you, last year's cheerleading captain and prom queen, standing in his backyard playing fucking knights and princesses with his little brother. No fucking way.

Olly broke the silence by shouting out, "Hey, Eddie! Who are you gonna be?"

Eddie tore his eyes from you to focus on his brother. He pursed his lips to one side in thought, trying to come up with a character. He was usually quick on his feet when it came to creative play, but he had just spent the last three hours DM'ing a month-long DnD campaign. His brain felt shot. He was pulled from his introspective reverie by your soft, suggestive voice — no, sorry — the soft, suggestive voice of Princess Guinevere.

"Wanna be my dragon, Eddie?" you asked.

Eddie wasn't exactly sure why that made his breath catch in his throat.

He nodded dumbly, silent, then forced himself to speak because he didn't want to look totally lame in front of a Princess. "Okay. Yeah, I'll be your dragon."

You graced him with a smile before Oliver's tiny but booming voice cut through the air of the darkening night. "HEY! Dragons don't talk!" the boy stomped his foot and hit his stick against the muddy ground in annoyance.

A laugh bubbled from your throat and Eddie grinned, jumping into a wide-legged stance before outstretching his arms, tilting his head back, and roaring.

[slothcapsule]

Kaeya's design pt.2 (updated until 5.1 because yes, more stuff gets added with updates, his design is that thought ahead)

or maybe im delusional and looking into things way too much! heyy, Me again!! this is gonna be a master post of all the things ive noticed about kaeya's design, ive made one like it before but since then there's been a bunch of new stuff so i decided to make a new post that has everything i have to note. this is complied of things i myself have noticed and things that others have. this post will not include anything about his skin other than noting a couple of significant differences since the outfit wasn't made specifically for him in the scope of the story, but i might cover it in a separate post

kaeya's design mostly consists of "two sides" in a way, his "mondstat" side and his "khaenri'ah" side.

his mondstadt side includes his vision, the full side of his cape in the back, the earring he wears and his rat tail, all this represents the freedom he has in mondstat and the person he grew to be there, a vision bearing knight of favonius.

the khaenri'ah side includes his eyepatch, the wisp of lighter hair in his bang, a clipped cape ("wing") and the majority of the fur coating. i believe this goes to represent that he's still tied to khaenri'ah despite all the time he's spent in mondstadt, and that he's quite aware of it. Also, the glove on that side has a kind of buckle that kind of reminds me of a shackle or a handcuff, as well as this thing with a bunch of eight pointed stars that are not apparent on the mondstadt

all across his design (the boots, corset belt, gloves, little things on the ends of the cape thing he has, his left sleeve) there are bunch of "eight pointed" stars we see associated with khaenri'ah, one being in his pupil which was a confirmed trait to khaenri'ahn people ever since we saw dainsleif.

id like to note that kaeya's eyepatch is stressed on a lot in game. its constantly referred back to most of the time when kaeya is brought up. he has a voiceline about it (that has been changed once in the english version to to a mistranslation i believe, ill include both versions) the first is the current version.

traveler has a voiceline about it where paimon makes fun of it but i think its notable there's a voiceline specifically about it at all.

its mentioned right when we start the world quest "Bough Keeper" where we meet dainsleif. he doesn't even have an eyepatch half of his face is just black it was a stretch in the first place.

kaeya himself dismisses it as nothing unusual.

in his story quest he says he inherited it from his grandfather, which is solid proof that they're related by blood. (his story quest has some crazy foreshadowing btw that predicted that him and the abyss twin are possibly related in some way or another by extensions but i wont get into it here)

there isnt really a solid idea attached to any of this, other than the fact that kaeya's eyepatch is stressed on as a point of intrigue, its pretty implied to be related to his origin of khaenri'ah, and we often see khaenri'hn people with their right eye covered in some way. and to those of you that think that he wears the eyepatch because diluc injured his eye during his fight, no he isnt. it might've been scarred by him yes but he isnt blind in that eye, and in the webcomic it shows kaeya wearing an eyepatch on the day crepus died, before the fight with diluc.

while we're on the subject of his eyes, he's somewhat of an abnormality amongst Khaenri'ahn people. every other khaenri'ahn person we know have teal eyes with their pupil being a bold black star outline, kaeya's on the other hand are a darker blue with a more faded filled in star. i wont include the eyes of every single character to prove my point but trust me i looked at them all. the only exception seems to be pierro but since he doesnt have an in-game model yet and he wasnt shown super clearly in the trailer im unsure what to make of it for now so i wont include it.

one of the first things generally noticed about kaeya's design once you look into it a little is that he somewhat resembles cryo abyss mages, most notably the fur coat he keeps thrown over his shoulder, the "bunny ears" in his hair (ahoge?) but most of the resemblance comes from playstyle.

in playstyle he's similar in the sense that he teleports on his fifth attack, his ult is similar to the icicles they produce after their shield is broken, he produces his own shield at c4 etc.

(EDIT: i somehow forgot including abyss heralds here, which is insane of me considering that i was always under the impression that if kaeya does turn out to be an abyss monster its definitely more likely to be a herald/lector. i dont necessarily think that he is but there are similarities!)

As for abyss heralds, he does also have a similar design element with the Frost Fall one! Despite being a minor similarity i think its worth pointing out , but they do have kind of similar lapel things, the herald has those wing like things both in the front and back , similar to kaeya's "clipped" wings, that appear under the full wing and in the front of his outfit as well

(fun fact, when i found out they're going to release a cryo abyss herald i was so excited and kept prolonging the fight with it in the quest so i can see if it has similar attack patterns to kaeya) (it does, he does a couple slash attacks that look like kaeya's normal attacks)

one crazy thing also is his cape looks a lot like the top part of the celestial nails and the bottom part of the statues of the seven, and weirdly enough parts of paimons outfits.

a lot of people theorize the log in screen is the enterance to celestia, and that the nails in dragonspine and the chasm are fallen pillars from there. for someone from a godless nation its sort of weird that he seems to have that connection to something celestial huh? this part of the design is also included in his special dish in the skewer itself. (he also marks the mushroom with an eight pointed star as opposed to the x on the regular one)

other than celestian, mondstadtian, khaenri'ahn themes in his outfit, he also has fatui ones! on the front side of the cape we can see that it attaches to a fur thing that covers kaeya's lapels. i have no idea how this attaches or if its just thrown on top, but this design choice is distinctly fatui, weirdly enough. specifically in the style of the attire of the fatui harbingers coats or official ware when they're gathered. i related it distinctly to pierro before but after getting a good look at capitano's model its more fatui, though there's some things that are similar distinctly between kaeya and pierro.

most distinctly, the fur and the lapels being in a very similar shape which is the part that's distinctly fatui, the mask/eyepatch over the right eye as well a strikingly differently colored strand of hair being distinct to pierro and kaeya.

there's a kind of gap in the middle of pierro's chest part of the outfit that somewhat resembles the one kaeya has as well. i saw someone point this out on reddit but i cant find the post because it was a while ago but regardless, they brought up the point of it being exactly in the place and shape of where abyss heralds/black serprent knights have an eight-pointed star, which could be a subtle nudge at khaenri'ah as well.

now, i have two ideas of what those similarities could be hinting at.

kaeya is actually a fatui member (which i believe has some sort of merit because of the recent appearances of capitano and some similarties between them in attire and playstyle weirdly enough, as well as a theory ive been getting behind that states that capitano could be/is related to anfortas alberich)

the fatui harbinger design choices are actually inspired by khaenri'ah, which isnt a stretch given that pierro is the founder and director of the fatui harbingers. thus making them look similar to kaeya rather than vice versa.

panning back up a little bit, regarding the silver hair in kaeya, it seems to be expanding to the rest of his hair, in his skin it goes down the length of his braid.

in the webcomic where we flash back to the past a bit, we see kaeya actually doesnt have the little strand of silver over his left ear, as well as when we return to the normal time setting of the comic, its also not included in his icy featherflight splash art (this 100% could be a stretch on my part they could've just forgot about it its a small strand) (while we're talking about stretches, my biggest one is that childe has a similar streak in his hair lol but that might be going toooo far)

last but not least, his vision, one of the most interesting things about his whole characters. a person from a nation that actively defied the gods recieving a sign of their recognition seems like kind of a threat doesnt it? and its all the more ominous that his vision casing is different from every other mondstadt casing!

this is the back of kaeya's vision next to the back of diluc's vision for comparison, the only notable things are the lack of a third wing probably signifying he's sort of out of place, and the swirl? wave? whatever you wanna call it is on the wrong side. every other character with a double sided vision has the swirl on the other side like jean, diluc, mona, eula, lisa (etc..? i havent seen anyone else with a double sided vision which is also interesting, at least from mond)

however!! weirdly enough, in the 3.8 summer event where kaeya gets his skin, his vision actually gets a different casing, as you can see he gets his full three wings, as well as an extra spike! but not really an extra spike because the vision is just on top of another thing that makes it look like it has a third spike, but the wing is actually there. the genshin fashion archive isnt updated with kaeya's skin so i cant check if there's a swirl, even though the vision isnt even double sided in the skin which is also really weird to me.

im pretty sure ive covered most things, if anyone has any additions please let me know! id love to look into them.

i think kaeya is a really interesting character who's incredibly centered around foreshadowing in the way he carries himself and his backstory, so to think that they managed to extend the foreshadowing bit into even his design is a little bit insane imo.

[plutonium-sky]

AIGHT HERE WE GO.

So! About the revelation I mentioned with WL and Eden statues- I’m going to give some context first. Me and @halcyon-xxy-art were discussing some Sky DND stuff, and then had an interesting idea- what if there was light corruption, alongside dark corruption?

We immediately establish dark corruption as the crystalized bodies, with the soul (light) trapped inside. The thing is, we wanted to make it so that there wasn’t any weakening of their light- it’s just that there is more darkness. After that got put out, we started thinking about what light corruption would look like, and Aria basically perfectly described a Winged Light. That’s when I had my revelation. What if Winged Lights are sky kids who got light overflow?

I’ll elaborate on that in a bit when I establish another fact we put out right after. Skykid DO have darkness inside them. It’s just hidden in a way no one would expect- it’s right in front of us. A skykid’s darkness would be their physical Body. And, if we go by that logic, their light would be everything else that the body holds- their light and Soul.

And then we added more to the corruption parts. Darkness corruption would work that the soul is trapped inside the body- and cannot return to Megabird (it would slowly weaken inside, losing its power bit by bit as the overbearing darkness drains it.) Light corruption was easy to figure out from there as well. The soul doesn’t have a body to guide it back to the cycle (it had burnt it away, and now the soul is horribly exposed, frozen in time, until a new, temporary vessel guides it back to freedom.)

The skykid’s body needs to walk alongside a delicate balance of light and dark, lest things go to SHIT for them. Too much light will result in being corrupted and overloaded by it, and the body will burn and flake away and the soul be frozen in time and space without the body to guide it back to the cycle. Too much darkness will slow them down, overtake them, eventually turning the skykid into an immovable statue, the soul covered on all sides, and it’s now trapped in a cage of its own making.

Also, absorbing WL (the lost souls of someone else) benefits us instead of harming us because all the overloaded light is still being taken by the other’s soul, not yours. Of course, a little still leaks through- and that’s why it makes flying easier. It’s a sort of…. symbiotic relationship, where the sky kid gives the soul a temporary vessel for it to rest in, while the soul helps the vessel, benefitting it as safely as it can. It takes more WL the longer you have to fly for safety concerns- if they keep on sharing the same amount of energy, the light corruption will happen once more, to a new victim, and now there will be two souls trapped beside each other.

Also, the body and soul theory is further supported by sky kids extinguishing. NORMALLY, we don’t grow crystals. By normally I mean stuff like rain and non-shard crabs. That would be a “normal” death- we aren’t corrupted, the soul and body are still in balance. There’s the pity WL too- you can still be saved. For lore reasons, I’m going to partially ignore the fact that you would still get a pity WL if you lost all of yours to a krill, shard, or shard crabs, because let’s be honest- it’s just ingame things. And, if my memory serves my right (I can’t play sky at the moment to check properly), you would grow crystals for all of those deaths- corrupted by darkness.

There’s then Eden. We run around, giving WL to the lost to darkness bodies of sky kids- or perhaps spirits. Honestly, it doesn’t matter. But, what matters is that somehow, this works in freeing them. My theory for how is that the light corrupted and overloaded soul helps balance out the dark corrupted body, sharing its light with the trapped soul inside. By the point we find the eden bodies, though, the souls are so weakened that they’re barely there- my explanation as to why we don’t see double the winged lights in orbit. They need time to recover.

The last nail in the coffin for this theory, to me, is the cutscene in eden that happens when we finally lose all of our winged light and become a statue ourselves. Where we fall in darkness, as a dark figure, then land. The light and dark of our being in a limbo meet. The light (soul) is sitting there, unmoving, trapped. Meanwhile, us, as the darkness (body) moves, going back to the light, to guide them back. This supports my “the light and soul cannot be guided without the darkness of their body” talk- because it IS the body guiding the soul here. It frees us.

TLDR? Skykids aren’t only light- they are also darkness. The light is their soul and the dark is their body. Without a body, lost because of various reasons (the one I gave is being overloaded/corrupted by light), the soul is trapped and we see this ingame as Winged Light. This creates a delicate balance where there can’t be too much light or too much dark in the soul and body. When you are corrupted by darkness, the soul gets trapped but it is still there. A normal death for a sky kid is when no crystals grow on their body. Eden statues are helped with WL because the overloaded darkness and the overloaded light balance each other out.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk, hope it lived up to your expectations.

[ruegarding]

What do you think Ares/Mars was talking about in SoN when he told frank to stop percy from acting on his fatal flaw??

anon, i love talking abt loyalty as a flaw

so, disclaimer: the “percy needs to learn to step back/let other ppl be the hero” narrative sucks. this was rick’s intention, but it sucks. the way rick set up the initial conflict is his main problem and why this foreshadowing fell flat.

here’s what mars said:

cool story, but…this isn’t a flaw percy has. at least, not the way it’s used. rick doesn’t establish any character of the seven to be willing to ignore one of their friends if they’re in danger, so there’s no way to make that a unique conflict (altho this would be a viable option if the other characters were rewritten). that leaves what rick wrote, which is percy not wanting to let the lost trio fight gaea alone, and that…doesn’t work without bastardizing pjo.

we’ll get back to that.

here's the big scene:

which. lmao. lmfao even.

and here’s the scene in boo where rick tries to spell out what the problem is for ~foreshadowing~ :

this doesn't work. rick tries to conflate “i don’t run when my friends need me” w “being unable to step away” or allow someone else to be the hero. those are not the same thing! percy’s whole thing in the previous series is that he isn’t the hero! he knows this. it's one of the most obvious themes in the previous series. which is part of what i mean by bastardizing pjo, but it's not all. again, we'll get back to that.

percy doesn’t ignore cries for help, but that’s not the same as being unable to step back.

and, going back to what i first said, name one character who would be like yeah! i’ll pack it all up w my gf! the closest any character gets to this is piper, but that’s a tangent i won’t go on bc it’s not done well enough for it to be worth adding tension. the point is this isn't a trait any character is established to have, including frank, who is the one chastising percy! it doesn’t make sense for percy’s character anyway bc he’s loyal to more than just annabeth (shocking, i know), so this wouldn’t be a good ending for him regardless. he’s not actually being offered something he wants.

the scene percy references w juno actually does a better job of highlighting the conflict w percy’s loyalty: either percy can run to the sea—where “no monster would bother [him]. [he] could begin a new life, live to a ripe old age, and escape a great deal of pain and misery”—or he could go to camp jupiter where pain and misery awaits him. and percy genuinely considers his options. if percy can't give his friends up for anything, what does that mean for him?

bc it’s percy’s freedom that’s at odds w his loyalty. his loyalty is not controlling or possessive of other ppl. which brings me back to bastardizing pjo.

an important, but more subtle, theme throughout all of pjo is autonomy (it goes hand-in-hand w the constant theme of yielding, which again i talk abt here). this theme is especially important bc pjo is abt disability (that’s why all of the demigods are disabled). one of the first things ppl try to take away from u when ur disabled is ur autonomy. the fact that percy vehemently defends it not just for himself but for others is essential to the narrative. it's why he's the leader, it's why he's the protagonist, it's why there is a callback to it in every pjo book. trying to act like he wouldn't respect someone's autonomy and would try to shoehorn his way into their fight and need to be chastised into respecting their autonomy in a heavily foreshadowed moment that is supposed to be the penultimate conflict of percy's character is a bastardization of this entire theme.

this conflict doesn’t work.

(percy art cred)

anyway. let’s keep the concept but make it actually work for percy’s character. i already talked abt percy's freedom vs loyalty, but another good place to start is w how percy becomes loyal to someone. there’s two main ways.

the first is empathy. if percy empathizes w someone, he’s loyal to them. percy can empathize w almost anyone, including but not limited to clarisse, the girl who bullied him, polyphemus, a cyclops that tried to kill him and his friends, and luke, someone who betrayed him.

this loyalty means that percy will defend them (even if it means fighting w someone else he’s loyal to eg tyson and annabeth), have a difficult time fighting them (especially in regards to harming them eg polyphemus), and consider their feelings in his plans (which is why he’s a good mediator, but it also causes indecision and infighting eg point one). this is already good set up for conflict for self-explanatory reasons, but i’ll give some elaboration later.

the second is kindness. if someone is kind to him, percy is loyal to them. there’s many examples of this, but i think the best is quintus.

percy feels bad abt being suspicious—despite having plenty of reasons to be (the similarities to luke as he says here, the fact that juniper says quintus was poking around the labyrinth, etc)—bc quintus was being kind to him. and if that wasn’t enough, percy says that he won’t use the whistle quintus gives him, but later makes an entire escape plan revolving around it.

percy tries to override his loyalty w reason and it literally doesn’t work (it goes hand-in-hand w percy being unable to see betrayal, even when it’s spelled out). if quintus had ulterior motives, percy would’ve been fucked.

side note, something i find interesting abt this is that percy is aware enough that he doesn't tell other ppl abt the whistle. it's like suspecting/trusting quintus is something shameful percy is trying to hide, which is interesting to think abt for potential conflict bc nobody can help percy if he doesn't tell them anything.

another pertinent example is percy’s first interactions w frank. percy takes frank helping him against the gorgons as an act of kindness and, bc of that, percy assumes the best of frank:

the thing is, percy is wrong abt frank.

frank wasn’t thinking of percy when he pocketed those vials. and if percy hadn’t seen frank pocket the vials, would frank have even told percy they existed?

this is a great example of how to use different povs to build tension,—hoo does not use this well or often despite having nine povs—but it could also be used as a red herring for percy’s loyalty. in this case, percy’s optimistic perspective inspired frank. percy’s loyalty doesn’t come off as a threat, so when the reverse happens, ie percy’s optimism fucks him over, it comes as a surprise despite being foreshadowed.

essentially, there’s a lot of room for conflict. percy’s loyalty includes a wide breadth of ppl and can grow very quickly, which leaves a lot of room for contradicting needs. the person percy chooses isn’t a given. the answer is not annabeth (like hoo keeps insisting it is). even in tlt, when percy has to leave his mother behind, it’s a difficult choice for him. he described his heart as “being ripped in two” bc everyone in the situation had his loyalty, his mother, grover, annabeth, even his father. ultimately, the deciding factor was what he thought his mother would want him to do (which is interesting bc it’s not what sally would do given her reaction to percy in tlo, but bc sally is kind and selfless towards percy, he thinks she’s universally kind and selfless. *points to the section on kindness* another side effect of this). and it’s also bolstered by the fact that percy knows he can get sally back. he’s not losing her forever, he’s losing her for right now.

so what happens when the stakes are higher? what happens when percy isn’t sure which side he’s on? nico says percy is dangerous to his enemies. what makes someone percy’s enemy? let’s use this, let’s make this conflict bigger, let’s encase the narrative in it.

really easy ways to do this include grover and/or calypso. the series is based on fighting gaea, mother earth, and grover is a satyr who is named lord of the wild by pan right before pan fades. furthermore, percy and grover have a soul bond that’s in part bc of percy’s own connection to nature. and even more than that, nature spirits were among the highest casualties in the previous war. that’s a series of wild connections to have unexplored in the series.

also, gaea has a vested interest in percy. she kills one of her own men to save percy's life, she tries to kidnap him twice, juno says part of the reason she puts percy in a coma is bc it would've been too difficult to hide him from gaea's forces otherwise, and the reason is...so that percy can have a bloody nose? ok.

w calypso, rick writes this entire plotline where she’s still trapped on her island (for some reason), but this is only relevant so that leo can get a gf. how abt gaea gets her off the island and she fights for gaea? what then? what does percy do? how do calypso’s motivations change how percy sees the other side?

these are sacrifices percy wouldn’t want to make. he doesn’t want to kill either of these ppl, so what would he do instead? what does that mean for everyone else?

another option is a cry for help. while percy’s loyalty has never manifested as is refusing to let someone make decisions for themselves—even if that includes self sacrifice—percy does stick up for the underdogs.

a perfect example of foreshadowing using this flaw could’ve been the creatures in phorcy’s aquarium. instead, some random fish-centaurs solve the problem. boo! lame! where is percy’s inner torment as he tries to juggle his responsibilities w his feelings! where is percy tearing the group apart as he tries to fix a problem no one else cares abt! there is a ship full of ppl who are supposed to believe in the greater good, where is the conflict as percy fights for the common man!!

like,

what an interesting thing to say in a story that has a prophecy w the line "an oath to keep w a final breath." too bad this means nothing.

(also these quotes, for good measure

percy swearing to protect hazel and frank from the gods and percy swearing on his life bc he has that much faith in annabeth, someone he's loyal to, despite knowing almost nothing abt the other ppl on the quest or how they're arriving. interesting. good thing rick doesn't explore this. <- sarcasm btw)

this would be a perfect way to introduce a sacrifice percy wouldn’t be able to make. just like w percy jeopardizing his mission in tlo by warning the kids on the boat and making it harder on himself by trying to incapacitate but not kill other demigods. he almost dies to ethan bc he doesn’t kill ethan at any of the opportunities he’s given! despite ethan chastising him for it! this is already an established flaw percy has, and the only reason it hasn’t bit him in the ass is bc it’s a red herring in pjo.

and again (bc i have personal beef w this scene), the whole nico-in-a-jar thing. while percy vows to save nico, he doesn't say anything when leo and jason argue against it. percy ripped hera a new one for excluding nico, and nico wasn’t even in danger at the time. why is percy so calm abt jason and leo talking abt leaving nico to die?! this is exactly the sort of situation percy loses his cool abt and starts yelling and getting himself in trouble. why is he calm??? where is his anger????? it really should’ve come down to “we’re saving nico with or without y’all” in a true showing of tearing the group apart.

how many traps is percy willing to walk into bc someone needs help? how much can he jeopardize the quest before someone else has to intervene? when does loyalty cross the line from something admirable into a flaw?

ofc all of these potential conflicts would hold more weight if percy was in character and written as the glue of the argo ii. these moments happen at the beginning of their quest, when they’re supposed to be bonding and building trust. what happens when ur mediator loses their cool? nothing good!

similarly, there should’ve been way more internal fighting on the argo ii, especially after percy fell into tartarus. i want the blame game, the instability over nico (and what having 8 people for a 7 person quest means), the greek vs roman, lack of sleep, stress, guilt, all of it to come to a head and jeopardize the entire quest. if the greeks and romans had to be separated bc it was too dangerous for them to be together, i want to see why. i want to know why juno thought it was so important that percy be the glue. i want to foreshadow why percy making the wrong choice can tear the world apart. it also helps frank and hazel’s plotlines, as well, bc their stepping up feels more important and has a bigger pay off.

as it's written, there's barely any conflict, frank feels comfortable confiding in annabeth for no reason, the girls are all friends bc #girl power, there's random love triangles everywhere, annabeth and jason are said to have a rivalry but never actually shown to have one, and the biggest fight is when percy and jason are possessed.

this complete lack of foreshadowing amalgamates in boo’s failure. rick failed to use percy’s actual flaws to establish the threat of this choice but still needed the conflict, so percy has to be out of character and the conflict has to be contrived.

[kitchenisking]

Guys here's an extra one just cuz ❤️

Kinktober 2021: Tattoo by Jokers_Wild - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5,689, sterek)

Stiles has been pulling out all the stops to keep his secret from Derek, just long enough at least for his human body to heal enough for what he has planned. Derek is surprised by the human's motives and declaration towards their relationship, the wolf can only do one thing after that...Claim him.

Like this Forever by EvanesDust, Winchesterek - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 96,956, sterek)

“What the hell is a Stiles?”

“That would be me,” came a voice from close by. A guy, Stiles, walked up to them. He was almost as tall as Derek, with a smile on his face, his hair a little mused but at a professional length with moles freckled across his skin. Stiles was broad-shoulder and slimmer at the waist, dressed in casual clothing with a bag slung over his shoulder. He held a to-go cup holder in one hand.

“It’s a nickname,” Stiles continued. “And I got your coffee on my way in since I was stopping by anyway.” He took a cup out of the holder and held it out to Derek.

Derek stood frozen for a moment before taking the cup. It smelled like his normal order from Starbucks, a white chocolate mocha. Though it was overpowered by the scent of something woody and fresh, and also…motor oil? It was the oddest combination but also weirdly calming since it reminded him of home and the preserve.

***

Or the one where Stiles is Derek's personal assistant at Hale Incorporated, and they fall in love.

Only Fools Do What I Do by CharWright5 - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 110,423, sterek)

It had seemed like a simple plan, a way for everyone to get what they want: pretend to be Bond-Mates so Derek could get the teaching job he wanted, while Stiles didn't have to face living with a total stranger at college and have it be known that he was suffering from night-terrors. Only things weren't that simple. Because they were Mates, a fact Derek was hiding due to Stiles' determination not to have one and his need for independence, as well as his Alpha-aimed anger at his lack of freedom. But the longer they live together, the more Derek finds himself falling for the Omega, and the harder it is for the Alpha to resist the alluring scent of his Mate.

You're everything a big bad wolf could want by TheBeastsWrite (orphan_account) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,812, sterek)

Stiles is dressed as little red to help isaac make scott jealous but it makes his mate derek jealous ad outdoor claiming sex persues don't judge me.

Enticing by DevilOfWire - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3,034, sterek)

Stiles is just doing what most young men do on their beds alone at night when he realizes his innocent moans brought a certain monster into his room, one who’s more than happy to call him out as the slut that he is.

What I Want by zynnser - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 15,079, sterek)

It’s not his best comeback ever, but in his defense, most of his brainpower is going towards thinking about exactly what it is Stiles has been practicing with. For months. 

Or the one where Stiles wants to ride Derek's alpha form but has trouble asking for what he wants.

Mama Please by Parkkrys - (Rating: Mature, Words: 20,699, sterek)

Claudia gave up hunting to marry Noah and so far no regrets. Yes, it irks her that Noah is friends with the Hales, but she had been able to put it to the side. 

Now after having twins, she struggles with watching lil Stiles and Derek grow closer, and now at the age of eighteen Derek reveals that Stiles is his mate. Something in her snaps and she leaves to the Argents for help. She wasn't expecting her lil boy to be a spark though.

Now years later, she knows her baby boy is married to Derek and she is determined to set him free no matter the cause.

Down the Rabbit Hole by orphan_account - (Rating: G, Words: 3,953, sterek)

His hind paw catches on a rock and he goes down, crashing onto his stomach, the wind abruptly forced from his lungs. He tries to scramble to his feet – paws, whatever – but he can already sense a large figure hovering over him, trapping him in. He makes a break for it anyway, though, desperately trying to escape, but a large muzzle with rows of sharp teeth is already descending on him and –

– and Derek Hale is going to eat him to death. And not even in a sexy way. Then Derek finally will become a murderer, and his dad will have to identify his body by scraping bits of his rabbit intestines off of Derek’s wolf-y canines.

All because he didn’t warn his werewolf friends off from their usual late night hunts, because then he’d have to admit that he’s a fucking wererabbit.

I'm the ghost of my mistakes by GreyHaven - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 29,696, sterek)

Stiles hasn't been known as Stiles for the past six years. He's Mitch Rapp, a CIA assassin with 117 kills under his belt. When he gets a late night call from Scott, saying Derek has been taken, he's on the road back to Beacon Hills in less than ten minutes. He's going to get Derek back, even if that means adding a few more kills to his ledger.

An American Assassin/Teen Wolf fusion. Rated E for violence which is canon typical for AA but might be considered extreme for TW. If you're familiar with the plot of AA, please be assured that no female or beloved TW characters have been fridged in the making of this fic and pairing.

Magic Matters by alikatastic - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 20,314, sterek)

Stiles wouldn’t say that he had moved on from the pack, but he had not spoken to any of them in years. After the Ghost Riders, Stiles never found his place in the pack. After a few years and a dozen more fights, Stiles decided to blaze his own path. He made a name for himself as a magical fixer. Every week, he received thousands of emails requesting his help, so he didn’t know why he decided to aid a coven in South America to create a treaty with some hunters in the area. He knew there was a chance he would run into Derek, so it didn’t really surprise him that he did. He was surprised, though, when the magical bond flared up between them, seemingly aided by the magic of the coven, but what really surprised him was Derek’s lack of reaction