#Turkish? Hell fucking yeah

[bvnnyl0v3r]

I jst wanna eat international everyday

[gaywineauntsstuff]

the reason I hate the "Tim doesn't trust Dick after Damian/spyral/ric" is because they are besties your honour.

Like there's a post going around that I cannot for the life of me find that says Dick is Tims trusted adult and they are so right fr ong.

Because despite what Fanon believes Dick is a pretty chill guy and people take one look at him and go "let me unload my emotional baggage on you"

There's like a very famous panel (that im too lazy to find or remember the name of the run its in okay don't yell at me) where Tim basically goes "soooo my girlfriends pregnant" and Dick nearly falls off the roof.

Tim is calling Dick for the dumbest shit imaginable to the world ending and so are the rest of the batkids.

so I have taken the Canon that Dick knows if not all but most and generalised it to hell.

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

Jason has been on a team with like 80% of OG titan members

they're having gossip session

Jason in a war zone dodging bullets with his bat travel mug in his hand: And THEN! Kori and Roy shared this look and you know the look they give you when they're judging you for bat reasons and you're like tell me why you're mad I was raised by a crazy person my normal levels are skewed.

Dick in NYC with a blueberry bagel In one hand, his Turkish coffee in another, just finished meeting up with Donna who gave him THAT exact look: No REALLLLL why are they like that, just tell me which one of the creepy traits I internalised as a child is bothering you.

Jason: omg you get it anyway so I grab the bomb and start playing soccer with it because its round and im bored and starfire takes it away like idk what im doing? bro ive been bombed I know how to work with a bomb..

Dick: hmmm and then what happened

Jason: and then.....

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

Tim: Dickkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

Dick: yea Tim

Tim: Kon is being a dick

Dick: oh?

Tim: yeah and its really starting to bother me man

Dick who knows Kon is dead and Tim is either hallucinating or drugged to be more susceptible to manipulation and is already on his way: hmm tell me more babybird whys he upsetting my lil brother

Tim about to tell Dick what is a fever dream bc he contracted pneumonia and is loopy off his ass on painkillers:

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

steph does this more with babs in the hero scene but its just... so easy and totally gets into the habit of it after Dick is her Batman for a bit and now she uses him as her civilian life therapist

Steph on her way back from campus: and then this bitch looks me up and down and pours her coffee cup down my shirt!

Dick on his way back to blud after decking bruce in the face: hold on hold on hold on she did what??

Steph nodding vigorously even though he can't see her: pulls my whole ass sweater away from my body and pours her peats coffee down my goddamn shirt Dick.

Dick: omg she didnt

Steph still nodding: she DID and then I found out from Jonny who found out from Vivian that someone told her I made out with her boyfriend at Leos house party

Dick who has no idea who any of these people are: wait but you were at Leos for like an hour max last week. we has smoothies after.

StepH: exactly so I had proof that I wasn't there and confronted her and went like. I don't want your crusty ass alt white boy whose favourite 'indie' band is the neighbourhood. I dated Tim fucking Drake the OG crusty ass white boy and I don't do repeats

Dick choking on his coffee:

Steph: anyway we are besties now and planning on getting her boyfriend back because apparently he cheated on her with this drop dead gorgeous girl and im high key a lil complimented she thought we were the same person.

Dick who initially called for casework and is actually so happy one of the people he calls siblings is actually like living a life outside of vigilantism: tell me more

Steph: you sound a little teary

dick: don't worry about it

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

Damian: Richard

Dick: Damian

Damian: so I might be skipping patrol with father

Dick:? what you love patrol??

Damian: and school

Dick: Dames? what's going on:? is everything okay? you can talk to me

Damian: I am volunteering at a hospital

Dick: kid

Damian: Listen before you sAY anything I know what we do is important but I think I can help in another way and -

Dick had brown parents and was training for the olympics at 8, totally knows what its like to have insane expectations and rebel with a day job: kid kid calm down okay? you wanna be a doctor? is that it?

Damian: well? I dont really know but I just? there has to be another way to help people. besides what we do I mean-

Dick: Alfred left me Thomas waynes journals I initially thought they were to bash your fathers head in when he was being stupid but it seems the old man was looking out for us. Wanna take a stab at your other grandpas legacy when you come over next weekend. I'll tell Bruce we patrolled so you get a few more days off.

Damian: you're the best

[percivaljacksons]

preview

hi ive decided to stop taking myself so seriously -- when i finish this it'll go on ao3 as a oneshot, but this is what ive got so far of angsty divers au (no it still does not have a title). rated somewhere between t and m. can i get a hell yeah in the chat? um have fun lol.

..

NYT: A lot of headlines have already declared this as the discovery of the century—one even as the discovery of the millenia. Did you envision such a momentous breakthrough in your career?

PJ: Uh, no. I didn’t think I was gonna graduate high school. You can laugh, dude, but I’m not joking. This has all been one crazy ride. My life changed forever the moment I met Annabeth Chase. 

//

What Annabeth remembers, during the nights she tries not to:

The cold. The blackness so thick they might as well have been diving in ink. Percy’s mouthpiece, warm when he pressed it to her lips every twelve seconds. She’d breathe in, then tap his wrist twice, and it would disappear once more.

They’ve always been good at nonverbal communication. A twitch of an eyebrow here, a sideways glance there. She knows when he’s rolling his eyes without having to look. He always manages to pass her a tissue right before she sneezes.

Annabeth wonders if they’ll ever get out from beneath what they said to each other, down in the Pit, where neither of them could utter a single word.

//

The phone rings five times, tinny and faint in Annabeth’s ear as she waits. She’s breathing hard, her hair still dripping and her suit peeled down to her waist, a pair of sunglasses her only real protection against the late afternoon Mediterranean sun. 

The ringing cuts off, and a groggy voice says, “yeah?”

Annabeth glances down at her watch. “Percy?” She asks. 

There’s a beat. When the voice speaks again, it’s perfectly awake. “Annabeth?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I…I thought you’d be awake by now.”

“I’m in San Diego.”

“Oh.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m—I’m fine. Good, I’m good. Are you?”

“Yeah.” His voice is quiet, almost wistful. “Why the new phone number?”

“It’s temporary. I’m in Greece.” She listens to him breathe, feels her own heart settle. 

“Greece,” he repeats.

Her thumb smooths over the shard of pottery in her hand. “Yeah. How soon can you get here?”

“To Greece? Shit, Annabeth, I don’t—”

“I found it,” she says. A glance over her shoulder tells her that her two grad students are laughing as they organize her gear and not paying attention to her at all, but she lowers her voice anyway. “I saw it, Percy. It’s real.” She breathes in, then out. The boat rocks under her. “I found it,” she repeats.

Static crackles in her ear. “I’ll be there in 24 hours,” Percy says.

//

They’d gone down together, which was stupid. So much of it was stupid with even a few hours of hindsight. No one coming down after them, thinking they knew the cave too well to get lost, believing that doing everything right meant that they were safe.

Stupid. 

The light clipped onto her suit only illuminated about a twelve inches past her flippers. She could see the walls on either side, the familiar steadily making way for the unfamiliar as they descended to the section only Percy had explored. 

Percy’s flipper tapped her head. He was reminding her to stop and equalize her ear pressure, so she did. He was more experienced diving in salt water. It saved her life, in the end—she had her nose pinched and her mouth firmly closed when she got slammed into the wall regulator yoke first. 

The straps on her chest jerked from the release of pressure, but it was the feeling of the bubbles rapidly flowing up her that let her know she was really, truly fucked.

//

It’s been six months since the Pit, and three since they last saw each other in person. Annabeth thought he was in New York, Percy probably thought she was—well, Annabeth doesn’t actually know. Probably not where she’s been. 

She’s been in Sicily and Ostia and around sixteen different Greek and Turkish islands. She hasn’t stayed in one place long enough for her mind to settle, has managed to outrun every shadow that clung to her pumping heels, only now her throat burns and her muscles ache and Percy meets her at the arrivals gate in Athens with a fresh tan and an unsure smile and Annabeth is all too aware that her months of avoidance have come to an end. 

Percy comes to a stop a foot or so away from her, tantalizingly close. Within arm’s reach. “Hey,” he says. 

His hair is long enough that he needs a band to keep his bangs out of his eyes. She recognizes it—it’s the same one she’d used to keep her own hair from falling in her face when it started to grow back after she’d chopped it five and a half months ago. The duffel bag thrown over his shoulder is also hers, and so is the necklace peeking out from beneath his collar. 

Annabeth hugs him because she wants to kiss him. “Hi,” she responds. 

The duffel bag hits the floor. His arms wrap around her, fierce and firm, and she buries her face in the warm skin of his neck. Stubble scratches against her cheek; Annabeth breathes easy for the first time in something like twelve weeks. 

“I thought you might send one of your grad students,” he says. His arms stay locked around her. 

“You got on the first flight you could,” Annabeth responds, her voice muffled. “Least I could do was meet you halfway.”

His fingertips press the tiniest bit harder into her spine. “Thanks,” he whispers into her hair. 

Annabeth’s own necklace digs into her jaw. I’ve missed you, she says with the nudge of her nose against his pulse. 

He rocks them back and forth, just barely. I’ve missed you, too, he responds with the graze of his palms over her back. 

Annabeth takes a breath, takes in the unchanged feeling coursing through her blood, and finally manages to take a step back. “You ready?” She asks. 

Percy’s smile is dazzling. “You bet your bippy I am.”

Annabeth leads him to her rental with loosely linked fingers, her steps so light she’s half convinced she could walk right over the Mediterranean itself. 

//

The last time they saw each other—the last time she saw him—it had been in the artificial brightness of their living room. Annabeth hadn’t slept in days, Percy hardly ever looked her in the eye, and neither of them could muster the strength to turn off even their tiniest, most ineffective lamp. 

No matter how many times Annabeth took deep breaths, she was still gasping for air. 

Percy would turn on the shower and stare at the water hitting the other side of the curtain, the bathroom door firmly shut, and then turn the faucet off again without ever stepping in. 

They curled up together every night, their bedroom lit up like a department store, her fingertips leaving bruises in his hips and shoulders, and if they were lucky sometimes one of them could fall asleep. 

Annabeth left New York. Percy didn’t follow her. 

//

One of her grad students picks them up from the dock. They were the only passengers on the boat from the mainland, so she’s the only person waiting, leaning against a rusty pickup truck filled with scuba equipment. She’s also lazily smoking a cigarette, her bright blue hair lit up a striking cobalt by the sun. 

She drops the cigarette and twists her foot over it the moment she sees them approach. “Doctor,” she greets with a grin that’s a little too innocent. 

Annabeth glares at her. “Pick that up. We’re not here to litter.”

The grad student sticks a hand out to shake Percy’s. “Hey, I’m Lucy. You the pottery guy?”

“I leave for one day and your hair is blue,” Annabeth mutters, taking the duffel bag from Percy’s shoulder and tossing it into the back. “If you’ve been smoking in the truck…”

Lucy rolls her eyes. “No, Mom, I haven’t been smoking in the truck. My hair’s blue because Mitchell won our bet, don’t worry about it. I didn’t even stain the towels.”

“I like it,” Percy says. 

“See?” Lucy says. She bends down and picks up her cigarette butt when Annabeth keeps glaring. “The pottery guy gets it.”

“Um—” Percy tries to say. 

“This is Percy,” Annabeth explains. “He’s not a pottery guy.”

“When’s the pottery guy getting here, then?”

Annabeth goes around to the driver’s side and gets in the truck instead of answering. Lucy shrugs and moves the passenger seat up to slide into the rear bench, waving Percy away when he tries to get in. He sits in the front with a shrug once Lucy’s knees are out of the way, and the moment his seatbelt is buckled Annabeth tears out of the marina parking lot. 

“So.” Lucy’s fingers tap along the backs of their chairs. “If you’re not a pottery guy, who are you? ‘Cuz Annabeth found a piece of pottery on her dive two days ago and took off outta here like Icarus on his way to freedom.”

It’s a weird simile, but Annabeth doesn’t respond. When Percy turns to look at her, her eyes don’t even stray from the road. 

“You didn’t tell them?” He asks. 

Annabeth grunts. Percy keeps staring at her, wondering which question he should answer, and eventually says to Lucy, “Annabeth and I…” He sighs. “Well, we go way back. How long have you been her student?” 

“A few months,” Lucy says. 

Percy smiles and turns to look out the window. They’re along the coast now, and the ocean is blue like a jolly rancher. “She doesn’t need a pottery guy,” he says.

Lucy raises her eyebrows. She looks at Percy, then at Annabeth, then back to Percy again. “Totally explains everything,” she says, and the rest of the drive passes in silence. 

//

For weeks after the Pit, Annabeth was on the edge of a panic attack whenever she couldn’t feel Percy beside her. She knew why, logically. The therapist explained it, and everyone was so goddamn understanding. Grover, and Sally, and Piper, and Nico, and Clarisse.

Even her mother, under the thick layer of I-told-you-so that she didn’t bother to try and hide.

What can you say, when your head finally has broken free of the water? When all light is blinding, when you can’t get rid of the taste of salt on your lips?

What can you say to the person who pulled you back to life, when you’re the only reason his soul grazed the razor edge of death in the first place?

//

“Why are the vibes, like, literally rancid?” Mitchell mutters, loading the extra gear his advisor always insists on bringing onto the boat.

“Girl, if I knew,” Lucy responds, shaking her head. 

“You could help, you know.”

“I picked them up from the dock! No, don’t put the yoke by the O2—”

“You do it, then!”

“Fine.”

She joins him, loading in silence. After a minute:

“$5 they’ve boned.”

“You’re so on.”

//

They put their gear on together, her reaching out to zip him up without prompting and him holding her tank steady so she can slide her arms through the straps. They don’t have to look at each other to do it, so they don’t. 

Annabeth only glances over once they’re finished. His eyes are hidden behind his diving mask, and Annabeth’s heart migrates to her throat.

The last time she’d seen him like that had been—

“Ready?” She asks.

Percy nods. She goes in first, and he follows.

He’s still following, even now. But that’s Percy. 

From above the surface, it looks like a rock. A big rock, sure, but not dissimilar from the jutting stones that surround a lot of the Mediterranean, the jagged edges that contrast the white sand beaches. That’s been her main research tactic, recently—where do the tourists avoid? What stone has been left unturned, what looks so innocuous from above that no one would ever suspect it was an X, marking a very secret spot?

Under the surface, it’s a different story. Not an obvious story, but at this point Annabeth could navigate each curve and edge in her sleep. She does, on the nights she doesn’t dream of a blackness like tar. 

It’s a bright enough day that sunlight streaks through the water a good twenty feet down, exposing the imposing face of stone. There isn’t an entrance, really, but there’s nooks and crannies and crevices, and Annabeth is the particular kind of crazy to have wiggled her way through every single one she could. 

On instinct, she reaches down and clicks on one of her flashlights. With a confident flick of her feet, she propels herself towards the opening that started it all. 

There are three flashlights clipped to the straps around her shoulders. When she had zipped up Percy’s suit, she had noticed the four he had clipped to his.

She finds the optical illusion, the uneven meeting that looks like a solid wall. If you stare at it long enough, the ripples of light coming through the water reveal it for what it is. She presses forward, and just like six months ago Percy goes where she leads.

From there, it’s memory. Through the cave system, careful and slow, even as her heart pounds. Under the archway, chipped away from the rock, a little too even to be natural. She pauses under it and taps it with one hand. Percy nods in response. He sees it. He knows.

After the archway, it’s left until the opening below, leading down to darker and colder waters. Annabeth checks her backup flashlights, braces herself, and heads down. 

She doesn’t look to see if Percy follows. He either will or he won’t. 

The space gets smaller, then larger, jagged edges of rock cutting into the path. This wasn’t an entrance, as far as Annabeth can tell, but it’s the only way in she’s found so far. Everything else has been long since blocked off by time. Earthquakes, rockslides, storms, erosion, all of the above. It’s proper cave diving because of it, something that Percy has infinitely more experience in.

She reaches the air pocket and pops her head out. She takes a breath of stale, cave air and waits. A faint light grows steadily brighter.

Percy’s head pops above the water. He lets his rebreather drop from his mouth.

“Holy shit,” he says. “Annabeth, this is—”

Annabeth reaches through the water and grabs onto his rebreather with her left hand. Her right hand is busy clutching her own. They’re both attached to their diving tanks, obviously, but…

His hand covers her own. “I’ve got it,” he says softly. “I’m sorry.”

Annabeth yanks her hand back. “Right,” she says. “Did you see the arch? I’m thinking 4,500, maybe earlier.”

Water drips from the low ceiling above them onto Percy’s diving mask. He doesn’t even blink.

“Plato said 9,600,” he teases.

“I know what Plato said.” Annabeth rolls her eyes. “What did he know?”

“4,000,” Percy says, shaking his head, “is neolithic settlers in Thera, precursors to the Minoans. Annabeth, that’s…that’s—”

“—the Older Peron,” she finishes. “The timing makes perfect sense, but I think there was something else. I mean, look at where we are. There were the rising sea levels during Holocene Epoch, sure, but—”

“—it was never at sea level,” Percy realizes. He gestures around them, splashing her with water. “It was already below sea level. Which is why—”

“—the rise was so devastating,” Annabeth continues, building on his enthusiasm. “They had fortifications of natural rock but—”

“—they were effectively trapped when the levels rose unexpectedly!” His voice echoes off the walls around them. “We’ve been going deeper and deeper this whole dive.”

“Probably a storm,” Annabeth says. “It was gradual, and then a big storm caught them off guard. They…they probably starved, if they didn’t drown. Those who didn’t made their way to Crete and kicked off the Bronze Age.”

The slow drip of water is the only sound between them for a long moment. 

“Where’d you find the pottery?” Percy finally asks.

“Up ahead. Ten minutes, maybe.”

“Is it all submerged?”

“I don’t know,” Annabeth admits. “Maybe, maybe not. I called you as soon as I had anything concrete.”

He takes his mouthpiece out of the water and slots it between his lips. Annabeth does the same, then heads back under to show him the way. She’s so excited to show him that she can barely even feel how the water has gotten gradually colder during their dive. It had freaked her out, her first few times trying to navigate the crags of the cave. 

Caves are always cold. It’s why they have wetsuits. Annabeth only wishes it wouldn’t take so goddamn long for her to warm up again once she was above the surface.

//

NYT: Your preliminary article talks a lot about the Holocene epoch. What does that have to you with your discovery?

PJ: Right, yeah, so that’s—we’re in that right now. That’s our current geological epoch. It’s an interglacial period equivalent to MIS 1, and started around 11,700 years ago. Basically, ‘Holocene’ is two Ancient Greek words smushed together meaning an ‘entirely new’ age. In terms of, like, humanity, it’s when all of our written history and technological revolutions have happened. It’s all happened since the last ice age ended those 12,000 years ago. In terms of my research—which is our research, really—it’s thinking about the impact of the vast warming of the planet after the last ice age and what that might be able to tell us about pre-Minoan civilizations in the Mediterranean.

NYT: Are you talking about global warming? I think of that being a lot more recent than 12,000 years ago.

PJ: Eh. It’s kinda relative. Pretty much anything is global warming after an ice age, you know? We do split the Holocene into three main eras of slight cooling and warming, but our sweet spot is around 7,500 years ago, when the Mediterranean especially was having to deal with rapid sea level rise and colder waters. Can I be honest with you, dude?

NYT: Of course. 

PJ: Everyone thought we were f****** crazy.

//

Later, back on the boat, Mitchell throws together some PB&Js for them to devour. The two of them eat quickly, tired from the dive, and don’t speak. Mitchell always uses a little too much peanut butter, and it sticks to the roof of Annabeth’s mouth, but that isn’t why she stays quiet.

There’s a lot between them besides the silence.

“This is everything I’ve ever wanted,” she eventually says, staring at the unassuming point of rock above the water. Just a rock that was really the cave that held the answer she’d spent her life searching for. Will they call it Chase Cave? Probably not, at this point. She’s glad. Something about that smarts—her greatest achievement marked by her father’s name.

“Is it?” Percy asks. His hair is wet, mussed up from when he yanked off his hood. There’s still a faint red oval around his eyes and nose.

She turns to face him more fully. They’ve never worn jewelry when they went in the water, and earlier she’d caught the faint tan line around the fourth finger of his left hand. He still wears it, or wore it recently enough to still have its mark.

Annabeth looks back to the rock. It’s much easier to stare at. “Almost,” she says.

//

NYT: Where do you go from here? Back to Berkley? Columbia? Are you staying in Greece?

PJ: Honestly… [Laughs] anywhere that offers us a tenure track. We’re open to suggestions! Our RateMyProfessor scores are through the roof, man. At this point, I’d even say yes to NYU.

//

“Berkley’s funding you?” Percy asks.

Annabeth nods, swallowing the mouthful of wine she’d been letting sit in her mouth. It’s easy to get lost in it—early signs of the sunset, Percy backlit by it all, wearing a loose blue shirt with the collar open so she can see his collarbones, her necklace nestled right in the middle. Missing him has been as frequent as breathing. She doesn’t quite know how to handle having him right across the table from her.

“Damn.” His mouth twists in that charming, trying-not-to-smile way. “What a coup.”

Annabeth snorts. “Right? I don’t know that she’ll ever talk to me again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Percy grabs an olive from their shared plate and pops it in his mouth. “She’s going to milk your relationship for every grant she applies for until the day she retires. Or dies.”

“Fuck.” Annabeth takes a larger sip of wine and closes her eyes. “You’re right. Goddamn it.”

“Hey, it’s been known to happen.” She opens her eyes again just in time to see the smile slip properly onto his face. “Good thing she made sure that you didn’t share any kind of name.”

Annabeth raises her wine. Percy grabs his water and follows suit, his tan-lined finger wrapping around the glass. “To Dr. Sofia Athena,” Annabeth says. “A name that has had no lasting impact on the study of archeology and the world’s shittiest mother.”

“Hear hear!” 

They clink their glasses and drink. 

The sun sinks below the ocean, pink orange red streaked across the sky, and below the table Percy rests the length of his leg against her own. 

//

Percy kept waking up with bruises on his wrist, his forearm, along the edge of his ribs. She never remembered grabbing him that tightly, hadn’t roused from sleep for a moment, didn’t even know that she was capable of gripping him like that.

She kept thinking about his life before she came into it, kept thinking about his childhood and his aversion to alcohol, and kept spending her mornings throwing up bile.

He held her hair back. He kissed the space behind her ear. He took it all, right up until the day she left.

//

They leave the restaurant as dusk slips into evening. Everything drips blue, and they could go back to the ramshackle house Annabeth’s been renting for three weeks and go to sleep. They should, really. Tomorrow all of the difficult stuff starts, the phone calls and the grant applications and fierce defense of their life’s work. 

But Percy takes a deep, sucking breath in, and his hands in his pockets. He lets it out again, a satisfied sigh, and jerks his head towards the horizon invitingly, and Annabeth already knows she’s going to agree to whatever he’s going to ask. 

“What?” She asks. 

“Want to go for a walk?” He asks. “It’s a beautiful night.” 

He’s right. She wants to. Still, she hesitates. 

“On the beach?”

“Why not? There’s a sandy bit down there.”

Annabeth can think of at least seven reasons that they really should not. Up against Percy’s relaxed posture and open expression, none of them put up a fight. 

“Alright,” she agrees. 

He doesn’t offer his hand, so she doesn’t take it, but when they start to walk towards the shore, their elbows brush with every other step. 

//

“Don’t be ridiculous, Annabeth.”

Annabeth’s head snaps back. “I’m not being ridiculous,” she says.

Her mother shoots her a look, her face half obscured by her office’s desktop monitor. “You’re turning one of Plato’s metaphors into a pipe dream of a discovery. It’s not like you.”

Annabeth takes a deep, controlled breath in. “I’m not basing the entirety of my research on Plato.”

“You’ve found another source that references Atlantis?”

“Not exactly,” Annabeth admits begrudgingly. “But—”

“Annabeth.”

“Just because they don’t call it the same thing that Plato did—”

“Lower your voice, please,” her mother says, turning her focus back to her computer. She starts to type, her face impassive.

Annabeth seethes. Quietly. “The study of Stone Age civilizations always requires careful historiographical reading into the Bronze and Iron ages. Their interpretation of history is a valid course of investigation for today’s scholarship.”

Her mother sighs and closes her eyes for a brief, devastating moment. “You’re a promising archeologist, Annabeth, but…”

Always a but. 

“...these caves, and the diving, well…” Her mother finally gives her undivided attention. “It’s not difficult to see where you got the idea.”

Annabeth digs the fingernails of her left hand into her palm and tries her best to keep the tears at bay. “I’m not plagiarizing research ideas.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“This research project just happened to pop up right as you started seeing a scuba diver? That’s a sheer coincidence?”

“He’s not a—”

“Oh, he wears an anklet.”

“He’s a marine archeologist! That’s literally part of your department.”

“They’ve tacked on an adjective before the word ‘archeologist.’ Is that supposed to—”

Annabeth slams her binder down on her mother’s desk, a savage satisfaction building in her chest at finally being the one who gets to interrupt. “I’m not debating this with you,” she says, her voice filled with finality. “My research has to do with Pre-Minoan Thera and early Bronze Age art and documentation. Read it or don’t. If you don’t fund me, someone else will.”

Her mother rises from her seat in one graceful movement, her eyes dark and swirling storm clouds. Annabeth realizes that they’re the same height; she’d never noticed that before.

“Who approached you?” Her mother asks. “USC? BU?”

Annabeth lets the smile that stretches across her face be as bitter as it wants to be. “I’m a Chase,” she says. She knows it’s a twist of the knife. “Who wouldn’t fund me?”

//

The sand is cold between her toes. The wind off the water is warm and makes Percy’s shirt flap around and hug the contours of his torso for brief, devastating moments. Annabeth focuses on putting one foot in front of the other and not on the way this whole night has felt like a date.

“I kind of want to get in,” Percy says. 

“What?”

“The water,” he clarifies. “I want to get in. Don’t you?” 

Annabeth gapes at him. It’s only been three months. He went in with her earlier, even followed her into a cave, but this is different. This is a walk along the beach with their shoes in their hands and stupid small talk that hasn’t been getting at any of the things they should probably be working through.

Percy drops his flip-flops. He only has to undo one more button to be able to pull his shirt off over his head. Annabeth keeps looking—obviously—as he shucks off his pants and adds them to the pile, too. 

There are little slices of pizza decorating his boxers. 

There’s a tiny, innocuous breath of hesitation. Is he thinking about stripping all the way down? Is he balking now that he’s facing the might of the ocean? 

In the end, he goes towards the water confidently, his boxers still on, and calls back once his ankles are submerged. “You coming?”

Annabeth slips the straps of her dress over her shoulders and lets it fall to the sand, kicking it over to join Percy’s pile of clothes. After her own moment of hesitation, she slips the chain around her neck off and wraps it around her hand, clutching the bulk of it tight in her palm. She won’t leave it on the beach, but she won’t lose it to the ocean, either. 

By the time she’s up to her calves, Percy’s already dunked himself under and come back up again, hair slicked back and water dripping down his chest. He’s got a slight t-shirt tan she hadn’t noticed before.

“How far do you want to go out?” She asks him.

“We’ll freeze if we stay like this,” he says, goosebumps all along his arms with his wet torso exposed to the breeze. A tiny wave crashes right behind him and sends him staggering a foot or so. “Past the break?”

The wave hits her next, soaking through her bra and splashing salt up onto her cheeks. “Sure.”

They wade out together and dive through the next wave in perfect unison. When she comes back up, brushing the water out of her eyes, all that’s left of it are bubbles bursting against her skin. The water settles around her shoulders; when she looks over, Percy’s eyes are lined up perfectly with hers. Bending his knees, probably. Staying under the water to stay warm, or stay on her level, or some mixture of the two. 

“Warmer than I thought,” Annabeth admits.

Percy smiles. She wishes the moon would rise, so she could see the emerald cut of his eyes better. “That’s almost like saying I was right.”

“Almost,” she agrees, smiling right back. 

“We probably could’ve stripped all the way down. When in Rome, and all that.”

“We’re not on Naxos.” She shudders. “Never again.”

That makes him laugh, finally. “Come on, it was a cultural exchange!”

“A-bah-bah,” Annabeth tuts, raising a finger. “It’s one of the sacred three.”

Percy rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Ice water, air conditioning, and we don’t have to look at wrinkly old dudes naked. U-S-A, U-S-A.”

“And don’t forget it.”

“How could I?” He replies softly. 

Annabeth resists the urge to curse. There goes their lighthearted small talk. 

She dreams of Naxos. Not of the famous nude beaches or Percy laughing at her horrified expressions, but of the crisp white sheets of their hotel room and the faint red imprints of her teeth against the perfect bronze of his tan. She dreams of the purest conversations they’ve ever had, the ones they had crammed together on their Juliet balcony and the ones that passed with skin pressed close and no words spoken at all. 

The dreams are always exact mirrors of memory, flawless from start to finish, loving and being loved. She never wakes up before an orgasm or before the sun had finally risen that first morning and lit up the muscles of Percy’s back like a goddamn Yuriy Petrenko painting. It’s complete contentment, morning breath and a sort of pulled hamstring halfway through, no detail lost.

But she always wakes up, and Percy’s not there, and reality feels like a nightmare.

“You’re not wearing your ring,” Percy breathes out.

“Neither are you.”

“I took it off to dive.” His head tilts, just slightly, and Annabeth’s eyes slide down his neck to her necklace. She catches the smallest glint of metal through the water and clenches her fist around her own ring, so tightly that the chain digs into the meat of her hand. 

“So did I,” she says.

His mouth quirks up. “Okay.”. 

“San Diego,” she starts, weirdly confident from the wine or the quiet or Percy being right in front of her again. “Did you get an—”

“I’m still on sabbatical. Staying with Tyson.” A wave laps up and covers his chin for a second. “He says hi, by the way.”

“He’s good?”

“Mhm. Trying to teach me pottery.”

Annabeth grins. “Are you any good?”

“Obviously not. It’s better than, like, baby goat yoga with Grover.”

“So that’s why you’re not in Portland.”

“Uh, that and the human baby they’re very enthusiastically trying to create. Barf.”

She splashes him in the face. “Shut up. What? Since when?”

He spits the water that got into his mouth out in a beautiful arch. “I can’t believe he told me before you! Like, a few months now. I think they maybe kept it hush-hush because…”

The waves crash against the sand. Annabeth knows what he was going to say. She can hear it in the squint of his eyelids, the exact angle tilt of his eyebrows. It’s kind of comforting—she still knows how. 

“That’s amazing,” she says, her voice quiet. “He’s going to be such a good dad.”

A swell of water builds towards them, and their toes leave the sand in the same moment, the tiniest push to keep their chins above the surface. 

“He accidentally synced our Google calendars,” Percy admits after a second. There’s a dangerous kind of glint in his eye, the one that Annabeth has always been a little bit in love with. “They, like, scheduled it.”

Annabeth gasps. “No.”

He nods, dunking half of his face in the process. “I know so much about Juni’s ovulation cycle that I can’t unlearn—”

“Percy!” Annabeth objects, as though she’s not laughing through it. “That’s such a violation of their privacy—”

“It’s not like I wanted to know it!” He laughs right back. “Grover apologized, like, six times. Juni called to ask if we ever did any fertility rituals. I did not need that boundary broken.”

Annabeth covers her face with one hand and ducks herself under the water. The muted sounds, the sting of the salt, the knowledge that she could reach out and touch him—she breaks the surface again. “Why would we have done a fertility ritual? We don’t have kids!”

“I think maybe she thought we’d done one to prevent it. Anti-fa, right?”

“I know you know that’s not what that is.”

His straight face breaks. “You thought it was funny, though.”

“No comment.” 

“Hey, don’t be mad. I told her our sexytime is exclusively based on passion. No scheduling involved.”

Annabeth wrinkles her nose. “A good excel spreadsheet is kind of hot, though.”

“Oh my god.”

“Like, a color-coded one.” She rolls back her eyes and moans. “With tabs.” 

It’s so easy to tease him, so natural to fall back into their rhythm, to turn off the filter in her brain and let the conversation go wherever it’s going to. It’s so easy to forget why they were half a world away from each other. 

He splashes her this time, only she’s already laughing, eyes closed and ready for it. She hears his laughter join hers before she sees it, low and infectious. 

Annabeth could stay here forever, high on her life’s mission accomplished and Percy right in front of her, both of their heads above the water, both of them laughing. She would make this second of air stretch on forever, only then she wouldn’t get what comes next.

She opens her eyes against the sting of the salt and sees him, the jut of his collarbone above the foam, his hair curling a little bit around his ears where it’s beginning to dry. She could look at him forever, watch as the crinkles around his eyes go soft and fade, as his mouth settles from a grin into something smoother, more familiar.

“Wanna kiss you,” he mumbles. The waves push him closer, or he moves closer, or Annabeth does.

“I thought we based our sexytime exclusively on passion,” Annabeth responds.

The heat of Percy’s torso presses up against hers. “Don’t be a dick,” he whispers.

Percy’s mouth slides hot against hers, rough-soft in the very particular way he always is, and waves lap at their shoulders and Annabeth thinks something about baptism and then thinks about nothing at all for as long as she’s able.

//

“Sometimes I think we never got out,” she whispers to him one night. 

They’re wrapped around each other in the blaring light from both of their nightstands. It’s some time past three in the morning.

“Like, this is all a dream?” He asks.

“No.” She presses her nose against his chest, breathes him in. “I just still feel it. I started down there and it never stopped.”

She feels the breath shudder out of him. “Yeah,” he agrees.

..

[chucklepea-hotpot]

Hey! Came upon your blog cause you liked my Andrew VdK posts (thank u btw!!)! You seem to be a german speaker and i'm trying to practice my german. would you have any good german language tv show reccs that i could watch (with subtitles)? Also not to sound needy cause beggars can't be choosers or whatever but i tend to watch more lighthearted/teen drama type stuff than really heavy serious adult dramas but this is not a hard rule!! please ignore this if it's annoying! have a super nice day!!

Thank you for posting the Andrew content, I'm so happy to see him, my poor littlw meow meow <3

If you like lighthearted German (teen) dramas, then, oh boy!, I have just the thing for you:

"Türkisch für Anfänger" (teen soap about a German-Turkish patchwork family, it's silly and hilarious and soooo dramatic)

"Schloss Einstein" (still running today show about kids at a German boarding school, literally has the best intro in the world)

"Die Pfefferkörner" (has also been running for generations, it's about a gang of children detectives investigating im Hamburg, also has the best intro in the whole world)

"Doctor's Diary" (Grey's Anatomy but far worse. It's a trainwreck, if you liked desperate housewives you’re gonna love this one)

"Berlin Berlin" (never watched that one personally, but it's about a young woman living in Berlin in her 20s trying to figure out her life)

"Die Wilden Hühner" movies (my personal faves growing up though i prefrr the books; about a group of teen girls who have an old trailer as a group headquarter and chicken in the garden, literally what more do you want 😌)

"Französisch für Anfänger" (i remember so little from this movie but that it's about a boy who cant speak a whim French going on a France exchange to get with a girl. very stupid, very funny, hell of a music track)

"Die Vampirschwestern" movies (literally what it says on the tin, half-vampire sisters trying to figure out teen life, find friends and occasionally fight evil forces. normal stuff, you know)

"Hanni & Nanni" movies (a set of twin girls who get send to boarding school and being very pissed about it until... well, they're not anymore :) there is also an anime, as far as I know it's on youtube, it's so sweet!)

"Heidi" (show out of all shows, isao takahata and hayao miyasaki we're both part in creating it, fuck yeah. story about an orphaned girl who is brought to the alps to live with her grandfather and i dont know how to describe it any further? it's a beautiful heartwearming story with gorgeously animated landscapes. also baby goats.)

I hope some of these work for you and feel free to ask for other shows. I actually don't know if all of them are accessible outside of Germany, but I'm just hoping for the best 🥲

[alphadogmp3]

nine people you'd like to know better

tagged by: @freckliedan tysmm omg. i did start writing this on the 21st but then i got busy :(

last song: was sin eater by penelope scott last friday (when i started to write it) and still is LMAO. very good song 10/10

favorite color: well ok. it was blue¹ for the majority of my life and i still love blue a lot But!! i think i gravitate more towards pinks (and some reds—pink is just diluted red anyway) nowadays so like yeah my fav colors are pink and blu—ah fuck accidental transgenderism

currently watching: tmnt (2003)...... nostalgia is one hell of a drug.. idrc tho it actually holds up in many aspects lmao. i also bought a dropout tv subscription so im watching game changer & make some noise

sweet/savory/spicy: im literally eating nutella as i write this lol. i mean. i do enjoy those other things as well. but yeah

relationship status: naaahhhh. a (romantic) relationship sounds fun in theory but ive never felt the need for one in my life ever. like i keep waiting for the moment where i finally want one but naaaahhh as it stands nope. not in one don't really want one.

current obsession: i have a few! game changer & its spin-offs on dropout, caryn and connie (i love their sims builds!! their banter is also very fun to listen to in the bg) and the aforementioned accursed turtles.....

last thing you googled: i use duckduckgo 😎 that being said it is "what is ctrl r in google docs" LMAO can't escape google.....

tagging: UM. I DONT KNOW. i am quite afraid of seeming annoying and pushy. to overcome my fear i will tag some people BUT do not feel at all like you have to do it!!!! im just gonna tag mutuals/people who were mutuals for a long time

@captainquacksheart @maybebi47 @heyitsphoenixx @thursdaygirlmp3 @cartilagexfluid @thepeonie & anyone who wants to do it !!!!!!!!

¹ actually tho speaking of blue (language rant incoming) many cultures have different ways of categorizing colors and our color perception is in part shaped by that! a lot of languages differentiate btwn lighter hues of blue and darker hues of blue (e.g. russian and turkish) SO when i say "blue" i am actually thinking of the color "mavi" which refers to lighter shades of blue!! isn't that rly fucking cool!! the other word "lacivert" refers to the darker shades of blue. now, mavi is the more general name for that color, and lacivert could be considered a shade of mavi, but even then, a lot of native turkish speakers would find it super odd to call a super dark blue thing mavi. even calling something koyu mavi (dark blue) wouldn't be the same as calling that thing lacivert even though lacivert refers to a darker blue, bc guess fucking what there is also.....KOYU LACİVERT!!! isn't language so cool. i love thinking about language and words wait what was i doing

[theressomethinghappeninginparis]

All I can tell you about the next rooms I've been in is that I'm glad someone, probably Trent, was here before me. He could have cleaned up if you ask me, I haven't eaten enough to throw up, I just rush through the rooms and almost run in hopes of finding a safer place. Everything here is dead, sliced up, shot, or mutilated. I found a first aid box and took some painkilers and gauze bandage in case I accidentally hurt myself on anything here, literally no space in here that looks comforting and safe.

Transcript of the first page: This gummy cell had a dead guy inside, lying in his own blood. He had a number on his back- there were so many people down here, I wonder how no one started missing them? Or was someone looking for their friend, their relative? They had corpses in the morgue, laying on a metal table. It was freezing in there and creepy as fuck. The blood was dried and I didn't dare stepping in further.

Transcript of the second page: Further on I found dead inmate and a soldier(?). Someone want amok in here. Or did someone start an outbreak and thus the police or a private security group was involved? There was also a room with tubes similar to the ones I've seen before. But the things swimming in there were men(?) and I think there were horns(?) on him...ist this one of the nephilim I heard being talked about? Are these poor inamtes stripped of their souls and used as bodies for the nephilim? I wish I knew. Or. Think of it. I'm glad I don't.

Transcript of the third page: I came even deeper into the complex, downstairs, and I found this. I'm not sure what it is, it is hanging above a pit I couldn't look into. It's so deep into the ground I can't believe it's part of the sanitarium in the first place. When I went up a ladder, I saw this open door- I think due to the electricity that someone cut someone or something escaped. Let's hope it's not the Proto? What else could they have been keeping down here?

Transcript of the fourth page: My fake Strahov-pass got me into the files on the pc I found in a lab. I had to shove...the scientist a bit to the left. They talk about inmate number 42 and his medical record. They put him through so much, but why? There are mentions of "Proto cells", if this is the angel of death the inmate talked about? The horns I saw on the bodies of the bodies in the tubes were non-human. Not completely. If this really is the "Proto Nephilim" I pverhearf on the conversation, what would they do with its cells? I have an assumption, but I need more research. I think they want to revive the Nephilim with human beings...yeah what the hell.

Transcript of the fifth, sixth, and seventh page: Here's some papers I got for inmate number 42. I printed these out to take them with me. Does anyone know what is going on here? The man is named Hassan Ahmed Emin, and the doctor writing this is Melinda Everst. He speaks Turkish and needed a translator here. He reports restlessness, stress due to driving at night, fear of darkness, and feelings of loneliness. He has two allergies and then they list hsi current medications. They talk about giving him Proto cells, metallurgy on his hed, a lobotomy, Christ all this is so insane. So Eckhardt's fanclub is taking reandom people no one's missing and trying to revive the Nephilim so he can finally stay immortal? He is a rather skinny man and lost his weight in here. His history also includes seizures and neuropathy; lots of bone problems, and mental illnesses. His reports on his quality of life are high, but his emotional and physical well being is low.

I am continueing my walk through this mess and it's getting colder. I hope I'll come across a living non-hostile person soon, the loneliness is really creeping into me. There's another lab I can go in, but right now I'm resting again, hiding in a cell with a shelf I shoved in front. I really need this- this institute to have an end, I need some sunrays and, at some point, my old life back.

[dudenastii]

i cld be like. wrong here but i thought gortash didnt have a canon race or ethnicity? beyond being coded as turkish but even then the whiteness of turkish ppl is debated. super shitty and questionable that ppl are just throwing around racism accusations over reasonable things 2 hate his character for but it seems suspicious as hell that larian would make him one of the worst villains and also make him even remotely ethnic looking you feel me? same with cazador and saverok and the gur. lots of choices they made with their villains are questionable at best and bigoted at worst.

so for me, he doesn't read being coded any race (though I know people have pointed out his feature can be liked to turkish men or arabic men (ive personally never seen this but posts i rebloged talking about this have).

I can't imagine him as anything but white simply because I'm not painting a slaver/tryant as a man of color. Cazador's og design was kara-tur (very obvious racist chinese dnd shit) and he still does have coded features.

I mean maybe he doesnt have a canon race but like still c'mon its fucking stupid to make him a brown man. I can totally correct the post if that leap bothers ppl that much but my logic still stands. Larian is like every other company and does shit for money lets be very clear.

so yeah to me hes a white guy and looks like a white guy with a tan (bc there are literally ppl in my white bio family that look like him so the turkish coding is ??? to me, it's better to regard that to turkish person bc i dont know enough of about turkish culture to say anything but larian/dnd as whole has a lot of orientialism going on)

this dude isntantly reminded me of fucking simon cowell. Also idk if this like agreeing that he shouldnt be depicted as brown or what but look at the previous posts on my blog they can explain this better.

I'm just sick of people dick riding the most abusive cunts they possibly can find in every media and I was angry posting. But ur right im kinda doin what theyre doing by saying hes explicitly white but i'd honestly rather that then a post saying hes explicitly brown (or as another person put it "could be brown if u squint")

I admit i was just really mad and went a lil sicko mode ( my bad i did tag it in the tag lol)

but anyways, hes a white dude until proven else wise TO ME.

[mandalhoerian]

Hey, I don't know if anyone's mentioned this to you before, but I just wanted to say making Vera's color scheme pink (with black) totally makes her super recognizable and iconic, you know? It's a genius character design choice to me because in all of Resident Evil, there's no other character that's "pink," so she really stands out in a fresh way. It's like you filled a gap we didn't even realize was there. Plus, she's got that whole tech vibe going on, which is so cool because she stands out from all the scientists and badass fighters dealing with bioterrorism. I just think she's awesome and the thought put into her design is top-notch! I miss her sm I hope you update soon <3

RAHHHHH ANON KICKING MY FEET GIGGLING THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ?????? I FEEL SO VALIDATED AHAHAHAH LIKE YES MY EFFORT HAS BEEN NOTICED BAAHAHAH

You didn't ask for this at all but I'm going to ramble ANYWAY. SO

I was extremely particular about making her "recognizable" as you say, like memorable. Because good god RE has so many good female characters who are so unique, and color-coded somehow, honest to god I was like "WHAT IS LEFT IN THIS UNIVERSE I DONT KNOW HOW TO MAKE A DISTINCTIVE OC WHAT AM I GONNA DO"

----- like, I had a friend who knows extremely early drafts of her, and embarrassingly she was a corrupt, snobby, scope-hungry journalist redhead who wore red and dressed like veronica lodge from riverdale 🙃🤐

and then she was korean for a while (this fell after i discovered ashiemochi's so-ah). and then turkish. and then the turkish journalist thing fell AS WELL because i discovered other journalist ocs on tumblr paired with leon and a turkish journalist on wattpad and i was like "oh my god fuck i am scrapping everything" (this idea later got recycled in moth to a flame)

first drafts are absolute hell, as you can see.

i actually dont remember how i got the pink idea. im also like. obsessed with color? i guess. i like to categorize so it's always fascinating when a character/thing is associated with a color/symbol/animal/ and owns it -- like, the girlies in RE -- they made Ashley orange-yellow, sheva purple (kinda? its not as prominent as the others), rebecca pistachio green, alex wesker white, ada cherry red, claire apple red and it just HITS, it could just be a me-thing though. It falls apart at one pointt I know, because how many characters can you color code hahahah (and they didnt even try with the men. they're shades of blue, all of them. or black. bo-ring. they went with the hair and body type for them while the girls got the colors kinda DDJSKDS) -- so take it with a grain of salt, it's just that I love color as a starting and developing point and I cant overgrow it 😭

but like. interestingly there was no pink pink character like you said — apart from moira burton that is who has it in like the hood of her jacket and bracelet and nowhere else, though she is a minor character? i guess in a zombie game franchise marketed to boys majorly in earlier years, they wouldn't really prefer pink LMAO so it was easier to bubblegum chainsaw an OC in since that was a deliberately left alone concept. I was like "mine now" and put a spin to it!!!!! I love that she's just black-pink. It's her whole thing. Such a satisfying thing to me to work with

I'm glad you think highly of this, the opportunity was ripe for the taking and I just went for it! Thank you so much for taking the time to share your thoughts with me!1!!!💕💕💕

EDIT: I FORGOT THE TECH THING YOU SAID IM SORRY. Yeah that was on purpose to further establish her to be her own thing as well. Too much "she's not like the other girls" vibes here AND ITS WORRYING but no she is just like the other girls and is proud of it. I just wanted to explore other occupations DJSDHSJSJKD Legit it started out as wanting to branch out and experimenting how I could incorporate it to RE's story!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH AGAIN I WANT TO KISS YOU CONSENSUALLY ON THE FOREHEAD THIS ASK MADE MY DAY IM WORKING ON THE NEW CHAPTER CURRENTLY!! Hopefully it will be out this month, you know how long the chapters can get 😭

[sixgotthedrip]

No mom, I'm not a Turkish Telenovela perfect Jake/rich/hot/single, im a fucking ninja turtle. HELL YEAH.

[berrrydameyve]

377 liras.... yeah.... would be soo good if I had that money.

ENGLISH COMICS ARE JUST SOOOO EXPENSIVE (AND TURKISH ONES ARE LIKE 100-200 SO THIS IS ACTUALLY CHEAP AS FUCK BUT I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY RIGHT NOW) USUALLY ENGLISH COMICS ON AMAZON ARE AROUND 1300-2000 HELL THE SPIDERVERSE ART BOOKS ARE 5000 TL AAAAAAAANNNND THE NEW LAW SAYS ANYTHING OVER 30 EUROS WORTH WILL BE STUCK AND YOU'LL HAVE TO PAY 60% WORTH OF THE THING YOU WANT JUST TO GET IT ACROSS THE BORDER. AND THIS IS EXVLUDING THE OTHER TAXES AND SHIPMENT (usually shipping is also around 300-700 TL) but 400 TL for a english comic is sooo good AND ITS FREE SHIPPING so ı just have to wait for a week and pray the 4 in left doesn't go out of stock

[legacyofacat]

FANFIC - Where Your Core Rests

I wrote a Kongou x Reader in, like, June or something, which can be found on Ao3 (completed), Wattpad and DA and now here, I guess

Next

The wooden window creaked, the person entering through it making a face; old wooden houses were shit from a thief's perspective, always making noise.

"Please just be silent", they asked the house.

It was old, like, really old, survived-the-Second-World-War old, and it looked like it too.

Sweeping an orienting gaze across the room, they were surprised that someone lived here at all.

Everything was dusty to hell and back, covered by white linen cloths and they knew it was a room not used a lot, but did it really have to look like the most cliché attic in existence? It wasn't even an attic to begin with…

Nevermind, they thought, covering their nose with a sleeve, I want to be out of here as fast as possible.

They moved silently, cringing every time the wood seemed to creak underneath their feet and then shifting away carefully, moving to rummage through cupboards, chests and drawers, searching underneath tables, chairs, white cloths and an old bed in the far corner.

There's nothing here – I knew I shouldn't have believed those damn rumours!

When the Fog invaded back in 2012 many people lost a lot of money and fell into poverty, rich people would dramatically claim that they had lost more than them, but really, that wasn't true at all. They all lived in their houses (most of them manors), roofs over their heads, heated rooms, functioning kitchens and bathrooms, with no worries about food and even the ability to still employ some personal, but the fact that this room was left empty for so long and cold enough to show breath in the air – yeah, it should've been obvious.

This homeowner was obviously on the verge of losing those privileges and had to concentrate resources on the really important rooms; there would be nothing left here worth any money.

Sighing, the person backed out from underneath the bed-

BANG

"Ouch!"

-only to hit their head on it, something hitting them on the back to add.

"What the hell??"

Some kind of model ship was lying next to them, split in two – it must have laid on the bed and then slipped out from underneath the covering with the hit.

Damn, they felt really bad about it, someone probably invested a lot of time in making it and then they just broke it like that.

Wait, what's that?

Something shiny was peeking out from the longer part of the model, catching their interest, so they reached out and lifted it up, letting the shiny thing fall into their other hand and… well…fuck?

Now, this particular human wasn't an expert on matters of the Fleet of Fog, they couldn't even identify the model, but they could identify an Union Core if they saw one.

Alright, I'm out, they thought, pocketed the Core (because this was someone's soul and heart and leaving it here to collect dust just seemed cruel) and left through the window they had entered from.

"Fuck this shit, what the fuck", they whisper-shouted repeatedly, collecting the cat waiting outside the premises, bolting home into their shitty little hut, slamming the door and collapsing, cat in lap.

"Luigi holy fuck."

"Mreoww?", Luigi cocked his head, bushy ears on attention and purr rumbling.

They patted their hoodie's stomach pocket: "I just stole a Fog ship, do you know what that means?", he didn't, of course, "either, those rumours were spread on purpose because someone knew it was there and are now coming for us, the Fog's coming for us or, and I really don't think we're going to be that lucky, nothing is gonna happen and we now have a fancy pet rock."

Even the cat seemed sceptical about that. Do you know what didn't help in a stressful situation? An intelligent breed like a Turkish Van cat cocking a non-existing eyebrow at you.

"Ok fine, you sarcastic little shit, how about we go to sleep now and fish tomorrow?"

He seemed very happy about that.

"Yeah yeah ya damn swimming cat, go and serve your clichés."

Luigi left his human's lap, trotting to the old bed and leaping on it, settling into his usual waiting position near the pillow while his friend slipped out of their shoes and jeans into more comfortable pants.

"I'm done", they fell into the bed like a stone, fast asleep, leaving the cat to get the blanket and cover them both.

[chaserofdarkness]

Don't read this shitty monologue of mine, it was stupid, my attention seeker side is being stupid again. But I'm not tagging a shit so people cant find. I'm so stupid...

~

Why

Why do I have to fuckin ask

To fuckin convince myself

Why do I m not capable of feeling love

Feeling being loved

I'm so selfish

My mind knows, that they love me

But my heart always need a reminder

Even a tiny bit of shit makes me question their love

My heart can't feel anyones love

And how am I supposed to love people, when I dont know what it is

I can fool my mind

I can say it that they r my family they're my friends, of course you love them, you know them for years

Do I?

No I don't

I don't even know myself, how can I be able to know others?

Can I ripped my heart off?

Can I be able to love after that? My mind doesn't know what it wants

I don't know a shit what the fuck I'm writing too

I'm being dramatic again.

I should shut the fuck up, this is so stupid

I don't deserved to be loved if I'm this stupid

Yeah, this is it. I don't deserve.

And the thing is, I'm not doing anything for it.

I accepted that.

Like I don't care

Do I?

Don't know

And hell fucking no I'm doing this again

Writing my feelings? I can't even do this shit without feeling embarrassed. Every shit I do is just so embarrassing.

I'm embarrassing.

Even writing this shit in English instead of Turkish is embarrassing. How can I write my thoughts when my vocabulary sucks.

I'm tired of myself.

Talking with wall was easier.

~

[zaidshair]

Zaid hated energy drinks, and yet hypocritically he stocked the awful chemically things for his staff to guzzle during long shifts. Zaid himself relied instead on old school ciggies and Turkish coffee; and he could really, really do with a smoke right now.

For now Zaid took a swig himself, but made sure Gael drank the majority. "You looked dehydrated, bruv," Zaid relayed, then shrugged. "Or exhausted, or the like. I dunno really; but I know tired when I see it." Which led to the question: what was Gael up to, before he landed on the cruise ship? A question for another time, preferably when tree spirits weren't assaulting them.

Which Gael did take the time to elaborate on, ending with his own caveat that tugged a little hoarse laugh from Zaid. "Movies and all that," he repeated in robust agreement. "Fucking everything here feels like a fucking movie. Not half as fun to star in a film as you'd imagine, yeah." At least, a much younger Zaid used to adore the thrill of imagining himself an X-Wing pilot or a Thundercat.

Zaid didn't agree or argue about the whole 'tree spirit' thing though. Why bother? When he had a better theory, he'd give it. They all fucking teleport-jumped from their fucking lives around the fucking globe onto a fucking cruise ship in the middle of nowhere - so why not 'tree spirits' for now? Gael was a creative bugger, that was certain.

"What'd we do to make the little blighters so mad? Might be a territory thing, yeah. Piss off, this is our part of the beach." Zaid peeked over some boxes, but still couldn't see more than before. "Blast. It's just little shadows with shiny eyes, whipping about on them branches. Must be a territorial thing innit." Zaid willed Gael to just agree. The way he held onto his messenger bag, it seemed the best thing was Gael's first option: get the hell out of dodge, abandon the goods. For now.

"Right. We make a break for it," Zaid decided, then pointed back to the bloody cruise ship. "Head back there, yeah?" A lawyer. Zaid snorted, eyed Gael's satchel again. "Better not be loads of lawsuits in there, mate. Or I'd say just lose the bloody thing. It'll only slow you down."

One moment, a barrage of unwanted gifts from the trees - he only learned recently that coconuts were seeds. The next, he felt a hand on his shirt and he was pulled down where he huddled next to the taller man behind the makeshift collection of supplies coupled with some rather conveniently-placed large rocks. He waited until he couldn't feel any pellets hitting his exposed limbs before lowering the messenger bag just enough for his eyes to peer over it, eyeing Zaid warily almost as though it was started by him, regardless of the reason.

Much to his continuous surprise, however, Zaid hadn't remained with him for too long before he made an impressive dive to retrieve-- What, the Monster? That was what Zaid thought was important right now? Like you can talk, Mr. 'I picked up every book and pamphlet I could find'. Maybe that was why Zaid did that... far be it for Gael to judge how other people coped with whatever the hell was going on, which now included being attacked by thrown projectiles from mysterious creatures in the jungle-forest of wherever they were.

So, though he was understandably trepidatious (a named brand being offered to him by a stranger as they were seemingly marooned in this mysterious beach was a combination that warranted curiosity, at the very least, he thought), he took the opened can and only hesitated for a moment before taking a generous swig of it. The acidity of the drink felt familiar and welcome despite him not having tasted it in a long time, and for a second, he almost forgot that he was hunkered down with a guy he'd never met before, taking refuged behind salvage from a doomed cruise ship from squirrel-like creatures with glowing eyes in the nearby trees.

While Zaid observed, speaking aloud and taking a drink of the Monster, Gael scraped his tongue along the inside of his lower teeth absently as his free hand wrapped itself around the strap of his messenger bag as a handful of thoughts came and went, circled around each other. Some were discarded, replaced with others; he didn't like leaving the supplies Zaid had worked to gather, either, but... "I don't know what tree spirits are," he admitted, which was apparently the first thing he decided to reply to. "It was kind of just... I dunno, it just popped into my head. Movies and all that." Because tree spirits were definitely not from his religion.

"But if I had to guess, it's, uh... Like a spirit of the forest?" He shrugged his shoulders. "If that were the case, WHICH it might not be, then yeah, it could be a while. If they're procuring their ammunition from out of thin air." He craned his head back in a gesture that implied he was looking over their barricade without actually doing so. "We could try to leave and come back later, wait it out and engage in conversational intercourse--" Why not make things weird when you could make them weird, right? "Or I can put as much stuff into my bag as I can and we can... I dunno, endure it."

It was his turn to exhale. "And no, I've never been in a war zone. I'm a lawyer. Well... was."

[im-a-slut-for-fluff]

✨Marvel incorrect quotes✨

Y/n: Now that steve is gone I’m probably going to set the compound on fire.

Tony: WHAT?! WHY?

Y/n: *shrugs* He always stops me before I do something, it’s like a sixth sense.

*halfway across the world on a mission*

Natasha: what’s wrong?

Steve: I don’t know, just got a weird feeling

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Thor: what’s a thot?

Y/n: A very thoughtful person

*later at the dinner table*

Tony: Here’s the salt Thor

Thor: Thank you Tony, you’re such a thot!

*Y/n spits out water*

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Peter, on the phone: Mr. stark! We need your help! I-

Tony, having been woken up: Nuh-uh kid, is the compound on fire?

Peter: No?

Tony: Are you dealing with villains?

Peter:....no?

Tony: Then it's not really an emergency. *Hangs up*

Kate: What did he say? What do we do about the portal to hell in the common room?

Peter: Apparently it's not an emergency.

Y/n, being strangled by a demon: how in THE FUCK is this not an emergency!?

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Y/n: I don't know, I just kinda feel like we're meant to be together. I mean, just look at how fate throw us at each other!

Bucky: It's 3 am and you're stuck in my window. How did you even get here in the first place?

Y/n: Fate Bucky! I just told you!

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Y/n: Yeah we’re best friends, but I would fuck you if you asked.

Sam: *blushing* what?

Y/n: *blushing* what?

Zemo, in the background eating Turkish delights: They said they would fuck you if you asked.

[divinegrey]

Fade Headcanons (NSFW)

good morning folks! here to deliver a steaming plate of headcanons for everyone's favorite nightmare lady, Fade! Just a reminder, my inbox is back open! Check out the post here to see what you can and can't request! On with the show!

prompt: I hope you had a nice day! Before I request, I just want to say I absolutely love your valorant fics! If it’s okay with you, how about some spicy relationship headcanons for Fade?

words: 622

warnings: NSFW themes, 18+ only post!

Slightly Spicy Headcanons

Fade is the kind of woman who’s absolutely insatiable when it comes to making out. She loves every second of it, of that closeness that you share when your lips are locked and your bodies are pressed firmly together. 

Speaking of, you know how she has piercings? Yeah, I’m calling it here; Fade would have a tongue piercing for SURE. And if you’ve never kissed anyone with a tongue piercing, then you’re in for a whole world of sensations. You can feel it when you tongue kiss her and it’s more than a little addicting (plus the piercing helps out when she goes down south, iykwim)

Fade is religious when it comes to her black lipstick, and more often than not, wears it because she knows you’ll smudge it when you kiss her. She likes it, and she likes it even more when there’s black lipstick smeared over your mouth or your neck. 

She can also be kinda possessive! It shows through the hickies she gives you, but more likely, the prowlers that seem to follow you whenever you’re on base. You don’t mind they’re company (they’re kinda cute!) and knowing that they’re Fade’s prowlers watching over you makes it all the better. 

Very Spicy Headcanons

Fade isn’t picky when it comes to being on top or the bottom; she’s all for just making you feel good, so she can very easily switch depending on context. 

Top Fade is all cocky and a little mean, but only in the teasing sense. She’d rather jump off a cliff before hurting your feelings, but if you like being roughed around, then Fade is all too happy to do so. 

If you hand over your control to her, Fade will make it one hundred percent worth your while. After dating you for so long, she knows everything that makes you tick and all the sensitive spots that really get you going. If you prefer her mouth, then you’ll feel the tongue piercing. If you like her fingers, then give her a few seconds to take all the rings off before she blows your back out. 

Bottom Fade is a completely different story. 

She’ll praise you for making her feel good and while you’re at it, you’ll hear her cursing in Turkish or saying something to you that most of the time, you don’t understand. Your knowledge of Turkish is minute, but you recognize some of the phrases she says the most often. Fade is very prone to calling you pet names, especially when she’s on the receiving end. 

Fade’s prowlers will make an appearance if she’s unable to hold that part of herself back in the midst of sex— she never means to scare you, but they’re not something she can reign in when she’s busy taking care of you. Once, you experimented with her using her tether to bind your wrists. 

That was a night to remember. 

Upon realizing that you definitely liked that, Fade feels more comfortable using her abilities in bed to a more powerful extent. She will never use your fears against you, but she absolutely will use her nightmares to hold you down. 

And to finish it all off: Fade definitely has nipple piercings. 

They’re just so fucking hot AAAAAAAA

You still can’t believe this gorgeous woman is your girlfriend? How the hell did you get so lucky?

Diverging away from the spicy stuff, aftercare is so important for Fade. She requires a lot of it, as well as reassurance (especially after moments where she uses her abilities on you), and cuddling is almost always required after sex with Fade. She needs to hear your heart in your chest to know you’re okay and that you’re safe. 

A/N: that's all folks! Thank you to the person who submitted this request, I hope it was alright! Also, side note: if you request headcanons, I'm more likely to go write those because they're shorter and easier to do! Thanks for reading <3

[oyesmendes]

don't break my heart again

a/n: this is part two of 'knife to my heart'! hope you guys enjoy this one... little bit angsty keke

part one

santa monica, three weeks later. 

it had been three weeks. no contact, no calls, no text messages. you hadn't kept up with him either, not watching any of the grand prix, making a conscious effort to stay away from any form of media. 

you spent the last couple of days moving back in to your apartment, pulling furniture and decor together, essentially distracting you from the entire fiasco from monaco.

lando, after seeing you off at the airport, had checked up on you consistently, calling every few days just to make sure you were alright. it was nothing but an honest, and comforting friendship between the both of you; and you were thankful to have someone's support along the way.

he had even flown down after the turkish grand prix to hang out, and help you get the last couple of things settled for your apartment. 

"which one should i put up?" you held the two pictures - and he pointed to the one on the right. 

"same thoughts." 

"do you prefer the pesto, or tomato base?" he asks back.

"tomato." lando nods, popping the cover off the jar.

things seemed to be going your way right now, with the apartment almost put together, and your career back on track. 

until one knock on the door.

"i'll get it," you tell lando, who was at the stove stirring the pasta. 

you swing the door open, and the familiar figure in front of you sent a chill down your spine. you hadn't expected this, but daniel had shown up here, a day after lando - looking defeated but hopeful. 

oh boy was he about to be disappointed. 

you couldn't control the words that fell out of your mouth, "what are you doing here, danny?"

he didn't speak at first, drinking in the sight he missed for the last three weeks - your arms were folded, and you stood in front of the door that was only open by a smidge. he opens his mouth to finally respond, but lando suddenly calls from behind you, 

"is everything alright, love?" 

whatever hope daniel held turned into anger and he pushes right past you. 

"daniel!" you scream, following closely behind him as he barged in. he stands across from lando who's in the living room, spatula in hand. 

daniel scoffs, "oh really? him? of all people, it had to be him?" 

"what the fuck are you talking about?!" you shout back. 

"him! you chose him to what- punish me?" 

lando makes an attempt at damage control, "i think i should go-" 

"no no no, you stay." daniel says sternly. 

"oh shut the fuck up." you scold, turning to lando, "i'll call you later." 

you walk him to the door and he hugs you, placing both his hands on your shoulders. 

"you gonna be okay?" 

"i will be." 

"okay, call me if you need anything." you nod and he hugs you one last time before closing the door behind him. 

your hand rests on the door knob; heat rising to your neck and face - you couldn't believe what had just happened. 

"what the fuck are you doing here?" you spat.  

"i came here to apologise, to make up, but it seems like it isn't needed anymore." 

you laugh sadly, "you know what, yeah i think this is a waste of our time." 

"yeah, choose the second best option then." 

"he was here to help me, daniel." you tried to say as calmly as possible. 

"help you? more like sliding right in after i left, he was waiting for this opportunity for a while."

you could not believe him right now, "how do you know that?" 

"i see the way he looks at you, y/n."

you scoff, "then do you see the way i look at you?"

daniel turns to face the window, the view overlooking the city he met you in. you still stand behind him, arms folded. 

truth is, he did see you. he always saw you. the way your eyes sparkled whenever you were looking at him. he knew you loved him, and you knew you could never stop loving him. hell, you moved halfway across the globe for that man. despite the pain that he's caused, you both knew nothing changed between the first 'i love you', and now. nothing could ever change.

he turns back, taking a step closer to you, his hand reaching out for your arm. 

"i see you, i always see you. and only you. it was a mistake - that night. everything that happened was a mistake." 

he dips his head down to meet your eyes, "can you forgive me?"

"i did a long time ago, danny." you tell him, "but i don't trust you as much as i did before."

"are you willing to work on us together?"

you don't respond at first, making him slightly nervous. but then you nod, and a smile creeps up on daniel's face. he kisses your lips softly, putting the smile back on your face.

"promise me you'll apologise to lando?" you ask.

"promise."

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