#bc 'a grandmother has a right to be curious'

[ante--meridiem]

Former Roommate's chess friend now accidentally bearding for me.

[britneyshakespeare]

I have to be so honest and vulnerable with you for a second. I keep thinking of getting another complete works of Shakespeare

[lo-cinno]

I

Cannot take Gaming srsly

I’m sorry

[sayoneee]

☆ AND I KNOW IT’S OVER (STILL I CLING)

percy jackson, who never seems to know when to quit, keeps coming back. (2.9k)

contains: percy jackson x daughter of minor god! reader. post tlo (alt universe - everyone lives). book percy descriptions. apollo (derogatory).

kashaf’s note: book percy descriptions bc that was my first love. (sry if i get some of the words wrong, english isnt my first language pls be patient!!)

SUMMER BURNS. at camp half-blood, the scorching heat has dwindled to soft caresses, from the heat of the fire during sing-alongs where your cabin joins hands and toasts marshmallows to the cool breeze balming the sun’s glare at its zenith in the sprawling strawberry fields. at home, the scorching heat leaves marks — the biker with flames for pupils who clutched an openly bleeding wound as he thrust a first-aid kit at you, and the girl not much older than yourself with tears marring her face as she handed you a pregnancy test to ring up, avoiding your curious (sympathetic) gaze.

however, despite it all — you stand infallible, much like your grandfather’s part convenience store and part pharmacy, a poor man’s family heirloom.

you stand idly, flipping through an edition of seventeen when the rusty door swings open to admit a familiar face — with unruly black hair and an equally reckless grin (you know exactly who it is from the ba-dum of your heartbeat), the infamous son of poseidon (with the same smile as shawn hunter from boy meets world) is easily recognizable.

you glance at the crimson blooming around the crevices of his knuckles, tightly gripping a faded and worn-out skateboard, his scruffy converse squeaking across the tiled floor, raising an eyebrow as you coolly say, “band-aids are in the back, on the right.”

jackson laughs, an all-consuming sound (the wind-blown half-blood hill where apollo seemed to smile down at you, the laughter, like the memory, evanescent), “thanks, doc.”

you discreetly watch him perusing the aisles, before stopping in front of the ancient fridge — your grandfather’s store was something of an 80s pompeii with the peeling posters of back to the future and motley crue and the antiquated maroon and cream color scheme — and pulling out an arizona green tea.

when he finally goes to look for band-aids, you attempt to fix your attention back on the magazine in your hands, but like a moth driven to a flame, percy jackson was unbelievably hard to look away from (a magnet among mortals and immortals alike). 

jackson’s hands are on his hips, his tupac t-shirt creasing, thick brows furrowed as he decides between different types of candy with the same intensity as a single mother with two children and a nine-to-five (even in the mortal world, there is something else entirely about him, something that made it so that you could never truly write him off).

when he approaches the register again, it’s hard not to look up and watch his ascent. when he finally does come to a stop in front of you, he looks the same as he did the last summer, though the tiny silver trident earring is new, the camp beads resting peacefully atop his collarbones aren’t.

you ring up his items: a box of band-aids, the arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks, looking away from him all the while.

“good to see ya, doc,” jackson says, a wry grin on his face, and his eyes are so green — as green as they were at twelve.

“it’s never good to see you, jackson,” you snark back, reciting his total, “four ninety-five, by the way.”

he laughs again (your heart goes ba-dum again), and hands you a five dollar bill, shoving his things into the seemingly bottomless pockets of his baggy jeans, with a salute on his way out (his turning back was a sight far more innocuous than the last time).

the next time jackson breaks whatever tacit agreement lies between the two of you, your hands are similarly stained. reds and purples line your palms, much like the burgundy seemingly permanently staining your grandmother’s fingertips; the culprit (the bowl of pomegranate seeds) sits innocently beside you. 

“back again?” you say, glancing at the familiar scarlet stains adorning jackson’s hands (a familiar blue friendship bracelet sits on his wrist, edges frayed with five years of wear, and there’s a lump in your throat). 

“why, did you miss me?” jackson asks, again with that wry grin of his, skateboard in hand. 

“you’re the one who came back,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest, willing the constricting feeling to disappear.

“doc, i’m sorry to have to be the one that has to break this to you,” he sighs sympathetically, putting a bleeding hand over his heart, “but the sun doesn’t revolve around you.”

“actually, jackson, the sun kind of does revolve around me, ‘cause y’know apollo, the sun god apollo? my grandpa apollo? my grandpa, the sun god, apollo?” 

“going by your logic, that would mean time revolves around me, ‘cause y’know kronos, the time titan kronos? my grandpa kronos? my grandpa, the time titan, kronos?” jackson says, a shit-eating grin on his face as he sets down another band-aid box, an arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks on the counter.

“y’know, if you cared this much, you might’ve passed greek,” you say, referring to the progress report cards you were handed at the end of summer.

he shrugged, handing you another five dollar bill, and proceeding to shove everything into his black holes of jean pockets, “yeah, well — wait, are those pomegranates?”

“yeah,” you say, “i peeled them myself — do you want some?” 

(your father liked these, your grandmother had said earlier this afternoon, your mother liked to peel them for him, as i peeled them for her, and your grandfather.)

jackson suddenly looked bashful, fidgeting with the hem of his a tribe called quest t-shirt, “i’ve never had pomegranates before,” he confessed.

you blinked, taken aback, “you’re seventeen years old and you’ve never eaten a pomegranate before?” you pushed the china bowl toward him, “now you have to eat it.”

“my mom liked telling me the myths when i was younger,” he begins, setting down his skateboard, and reaching for the spoon before halting, like he was shocked, “she told me about persephone —”

“jackson,” you say, sardonically, leaning over the register to look him in the eye (there was always a storm brewing in his eyes), “i promise you, hades won’t come out of the ground and drag you to the underworld if you eat the pomegranate seeds i peeled.”

“i know what my next sleep paralysis demon is gonna be — thanks to you,” jackson says, looking down at the bowl and its floral blue pattern around the edges, playing with the spoon, and shifting the seeds from side to side.

“percy jackson, i swear to asclepius, you’re missing out on pomegranates,” you say, coming out from behind the register, and looking percy in the eye again, and there is something so earnest, so raw about your next sentence that his breath catches, “and, i swear on the styx, if hades does somehow come out of the ground to drag you down to the underworld, i’ll come down myself to drag you out, even if it’s tartarus.”

a rumble of thunder can be heard overhead despite the clear sky and scalding sun; percy blinks, before breaking out into a slow grin (your stomach seems to grow wings of its own, on the verge of flight.)

“invoking your dad, huh, doc? these pomegranates must be serious,” percy says, finally taking a bite — stepping around the bomb you just dropped.

you watch him intently, studying him as you studied tennyson and homer, “they are that serious.” there is something innocent about the way he eats, starved like every other teenage boy with black holes for stomachs. 

“y’know, i can put that into a tupperware container and you can take it with you, right?” you offer. 

“really?” percy asks through a mouthful of seeds, looking up from the bowl at you, “won’t you think i’ll steal it or something?”

“not really,” you shrugged, “i trust ms. jackson.”

percy nods solemnly — sally jackson is sally jackson after all, a queen among women, and an achilles of sorts, with her soft smile and steely eyes. 

steeling your nerves, this is already the longest conversation you’ve had (ignoring the forever-ago late-night debriefs under a firmament of stars), you step up to the plate and take a swing, “how is she, by the way, haven’t seen her in a while.”

percy swallowed, eyebrows furrowing, “great — oh, wait, did i tell you she was seeing someone new now?”

“no way, really? good for her, honestly. i know, poseidon’s a god and all, but like, she’s always deserved just, so much more.” (you manage to make contact with the change-up thrown your way.)

there is something so sincere about your words, that percy can’t help but grin back, finally reaching the depths of his sea-green eyes, and there is something still so boyish about him, that you can hardly believe any time has passed at all, and that somewhere within this demigod who successfully defeated kronos, while saving luke, there is still a semblance of your percy. 

“yeah, the guy, paul blofis, he’s an english teacher — absolutely worships the ground she walks on.”

“sounds perfect for her.”

“you should come over some time — see her, meet paul, y’know,” percy offers, still funneling spoonfuls of pomegranates, meeting your gaze head-on (this is the home run you were waiting on).

you grinned, a slow smile overtaking your face, pushing your hands in the pockets of your jeans, “might just take you up on that, before you change your mind.” (you’re leaving the ball in his hands now; it’s up to him to tag you out or let you reach home base safely.)

“nah, i won’t change my mind, unlike someone else i know.”

you ignore the jab (a smaller, suppressed part of you itches to shoot a reply back), instead choosing to focus on the hesitant hand of friendship being offered — as your father liked to say, keep moving forward.

you shrugged, and you swear, for a second you think the intensity of his gaze has lessened, almost as if disappointed. almost as if mentally shaking it off, percy hands you the china bowl back, empty, running a hand through his shaggy hair with a sheepish grin.

you smiled wryly, glancing down at the bowl and back to his face. “fatass,” you say, affectionately, and then almost freezing, wondering if you somehow overstepped the invisible lines constricting you. 

percy laughs — a green light. 

“lucky for you, though,” you say, disappearing behind the register for a moment before reappearing with a tupperware container filled with peeled pomegranates, “i peeled more.”

you hold it out to him, and he glances down at your outstretched hand, then at your face, before seemingly making up his mind, and accepting the olive branch, “you’re really committed to seeing my mom, huh?”

“well, obviously — the other alternative would be seeing you, wouldn’t it?”

“aw, c’mon, doc, i know you missed me,” percy says, a bit smug, picking up his skateboard, the tupperware container in his other hand (the one he still wears your bracelet on).

“in your dreams, jackson.” there is a peal of odd laughter in your voice as if you were unused to this kind of jocularity when fumbling over his name.

“in my dreams, we do more than just argue,” percy says, with one last smug smile and salute, before walking out the door, leaving you behind in the worst state of confusion you’ve possibly suffered (percy jackson: 1, you: 0).

(your grandmother admonishes you later that evening as you stand beside her stooped figure at your kitchen counter, peeling pomegranates, you gave the rest of it to that boy, didn’t you? her voice is not scolding, but you feel like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar once more. your immortal grandfather, the nuisance that he is, stands in the doorway, hands in an 80s leather jacket and matching sunglasses, waiting to be welcomed in. in contrast, his son — your father — brushes past him, grumbling, and takes on your grandmother’s burden.)

the analog clock reads ten fifty-five as you start mopping the floor, yawning when the front door swings open with a jingling bell, and a sharp metallic smell wafts into the store.

you whirl around, gripping the mop in your hand as a baseball bat, immediately alert as your demigod reflexes come into play. you physically relax at the sight of percy clutching his side, crimson pooling on the edges of his white t-shirt. 

“of course you would attack a man when he’s injured,” percy says with a grin, blood dripping from a gash over his eye (luke had returned to camp some years ago, with a similar scar), and a split lip, collecting like rust on his t-shirt collar. 

you scowled, dropping the mop and immediately rushing toward him, your healing instincts kicking in. lifting one of his arms and letting it curl around you, you shouldered him to the register, cringing with every audible wince percy let out.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked, as you sat him on your stool, reaching for the ambrosia and nectar you kept hidden under the counter for emergencies (one could never be too careful).

percy grinned — it came out more of a grimace, “what isn’t wrong with me — that’s the question you should be asking, doc.” he nodded to himself, and then immediately cringed at the action.

you glared at him, shoving an ambrosia square in his mouth, before turning away from him to put antiseptic on cotton pads. “does ms. jackson know you’re here?”

“no?” percy says. you walk over to the fridge, grab a water bottle, unscrew the cap, and drench the part of his t-shirt covered in blood.

“ow? in case you forgot, i’m still injured here, doc?” percy clutches at his side.

“you dumbfuck, your mom is probably worried out of her mind right now,” you say, scowling, stepping closer to percy (he still towers over you, even when sitting down).

“i iris messaged her,” he shrugs, looking at you as you shift even closer to him, cotton pad in your hand, “she just knows i’m with you — pretty relieved at that, dunno why.”

reaching out to grasp his jaw in your hand, you begin dabbing at the bruises on his cheekbones, his eyes fluttering shut as you try to ignore the way his hot breath is fanning across your face right now. “you didn’t tell her what happened?”

percy opened his eyes, staring at you. “no, how could i?” he says, slowly, “you were her favorite — still are, by the way.”

you don’t say anything for a moment — after all, how could you? (sally jackson’s homemade cookies drift to the front of your treacherous mind — the sunny afternoons with her kind voice, and percy’s loutish laughter.)

“you didn’t come to see her,” percy says, the statement not accusatory, his eyes fluttering shut again (you try not to let the way his eyelashes sit so prettily distract you) as you dab at the gash over his eye.

“i didn’t think i was welcome,” you say gruffly, turning away to grab bandages. “after everything.”

while the deeper wounds have eased into far easier, superficial ones, you still make sure to wrap and bandage everything — percy had a penchant for getting into trouble (one that you knew all too well), so it was the least you could do.

“i just told you that you were welcome, last time i was here, didn’t i?” percy says, an accusation.

“yeah, well, it was hardly an invitation was it?” you say, turning away from him, packing your supplies up. 

“doc, you didn’t even come to take your tupperware back.”

you ignore him, moving to walk away when his hand is enclosed around your wrist (the hand that wears your blue friendship bracelet), tugging you around to face him. 

percy’s standing up now, his green eyes looking more like a swirling storm with each passing second — he still hasn’t let your wrist go.

“what do you want from me?” you ask, trying to snatch your hand back from him, to no avail — his grip is ironclad.

“i can’t let you walk away with your back turned to me again,” he says (the dim, lantern-lit night comes back into focus, and you wonder if you were too consumed by your own pride, if you had just turned around, if you had just stayed).

you realize too late that tears are pricking in the corners of your eyes, and you manage to successfully wrench your hand out of his grasp, a watery, sarcastic laugh escaping, “you’re a couple years too late, asshole.”

“i know that,” percy says, earnest, reaching out to cup your cheek, and wipe a stray tear (the action stuns you into paralysis), “but i miss you, and my mom misses you, and she hasn’t gotten off my case about you, yet.”

the thought of tender-hearted sally jackson scolding percy is an amusing one, and draws a laugh out of you against your will (percy’s smile grows a little brighter, and asclepius knows you’ve never been able to resist that smile of his), “i’ll come over for ms. jackson, not you.”

percy’s smile is even wider now (his hand is still ghosting your cheek), “same thing.”

“shut up,” you say swatting at his shoulder, trying to duck out from under his arms. 

percy avoids your attempts to escape him, instead latching onto your hand, and pulling you out of the store. “c’mon, she’s expecting us for dinner.”

you let out an incredulous laugh, and let yourself be dragged out anyway (you would follow this boy anywhere, even to the depths of tartarus). 

(your grandmother watches from the apartment window above the store, a soft smile gracing her lined features.)

[lu-is-not-ok]

I don't know if this has been mentioned before, but I have a theory about Hong Lu I haven't seen discussed so I was curious of your opinion on it.

As you're aware, there are a few identities where Hong Lu winds up in different jobs bc his grandmother nepo-babied him into different situations (like in the K Corp Class 3 Staff identity) and Hong Lu seems like a generally passive person that moreso allows to let the world happen around him as he rolls with whatever direction the tide takes him (terrible gloom pun intended, sorry).

Maybe I'm wrong, but with what we currently know about him I can't think of a wish that would be important enough for him to go into this whole job with the sinners and abandon his family and life so I've been theorizing his grandmother has a conservatorship or something similar over him and she signed his contract for a wish the family had instead.

Do you have any thoughts, critiques, or corrections for this? You're my favourite limbus blog, so I'm a bit excited to finally have a reason to send an ask in. :)

Thanks!

It's not unlikely for his family to be somehow involved in his employment at Limbus Company, but it is a little bit vague at the moment.

I'm gonna elaborate under a read more cause I got rambly. Also, spoilers from everything up to and including Intervallo 6.5.

We know from the recent Timekilling Time event that the reason Hong Lu isn't with his family right now is because he was told by his elders to explore and learn as much as possible. The way he describes it makes it fairly clear that him leaving his family home wasn't exactly his own choice, but rather something he's doing because he was told to.

This is however where things get a bit less clear. It's possible that his family sent him directly to Limbus Company, knowing that it would lead to him gathering a lot of experience. It's also possible that they just sent him out to do this on his own without much guidance, and when he came across Limbus Company it was his own wish for them to help him achieve the goal the family set out for him.

Identity-wise, it's important to note that the only Hong Lu identities that directly reference being put into the job by his family are once where he is working for Wings, that being K Corp and W Corp.

His Liu Identity also references his family, but doesn't make a direct connection between his spot at Liu and the influence of his elders, rather simply implying that he's unable to escape their influence in his position.

None of his Syndicate Identities really mention his family, which makes sense considering they're the least likely position that his elders would want him to have, but interestingly enough his other Association Identity, Dieci, doesn't reference his family either.

I think it's notable, since arguably his Dieci Identity would be the one where he's able to satiate his curiosity the most, and yet does not reference the idea of his family wanting that out of him at all. That could be potentially explained through the whole Dieci thing of removing their knowledge when they use it in exchange for combat prowess, especially since Hong Lu as a Key seems to be a lot more affected by that exchange, outright losing memories of where he is and why he's there upon spending his knowledge. It's not unlikely that this exchange might have led him to just. Forgetting about his family. Which would be fucking hilarious honestly.

Anyway, all that being said - Hong Lu's family is only ever directly involved when the position he ends up in has some form of... let's call it prestige attached to it, like that of a Wing's feather or an Association Fixer. On the other hand, they seem to be completely out of the picture when the position he ends up in is undesireable, like a Syndicate or low-grade Fixer Office.

This is where we have to consider the nature of Limbus Company as an entity. We know it's a large enough company to have considerable financial backing, sponsors, and be able to absorb other corporate entities like Moses' Fixer Office into itself. At the same time though, it is still almost entirely unknown to the wider world of the City, often not being taken seriously in the slightest by almost everyone.

Would Limbus Company be considered prestigious enough for Hong Lu's family to care to directly involve themselves in getting him the position? Or is it such a small scale entity that they don't care as long as Hong Lu is fulfilling the goal they gave him on his own?

Either way, his family and the orders they gave him are still likely to be his main reason for joining Limbus Company, it's just the matter of how deep their involvement actually goes.

[a-forbidden-detective]

Curious add-ons: Foreshadowing and when subtext becomes text (Part 3)

Squeezing two chapters into one episode can be quite a challenge. One, the continuity is going to be broken. Second, the narrative is going to be rushed leaving some attributes of the characters out.

Where was that scene where Toto mentioned his grandmother bc it reminded him of Ron’s fave tv program or him (mis)stepping again on the cat?

But at the same time this is also a chance to edit out or fine-tune some panels that might not affect the whole story. Or probably make another story altogether.

Like this entire scene for example. It is amusing that the anime writers chose to make the shooting star invitation appear already in the beginning of the episode, which Toto forgot to tell Ron after seeing the latter’s pink grapefruit eyes. The bloodshot eyes deeply concerned him only to find out that the culprit was Ron’s discovery of the wonderful world of the TV.

Unlike in the manga, where Toto has no idea, who the sender was, In the anime he knows the sender but not well enough. So anime writers, what are you up to? It could be for logical reason. As a police officer Toto should not be trusting of any unverified letters sent to him, which the manga just set up bc Akira wrote it.

Or, hear me out, if you are reading the manga or have read this chapter, this is going to be another setup for Ron. Another angst-filled one at that.

Then the invitation appeared again during the last 10 minutes or so, without the disturbance of a TV crew who, in the manga showed up during the duo’s dreadful/anxious moments. Ron, immediately ceased the invite and decided from then on that they must go there. No time for verification.

Toto has the invitation all the time with him in the anime and is holding on to it till he finds the right moment.

At first glance, the premise is Toto visits Ron to ask if the forbidden detective wants to be his plus one. Isn’t that thoughtful of Toto? It sounds so romantic, isn’t it? But what if Toto has an agenda? Or someone has and is only using Toto to get to Ron?

I am curious of the next episode(s). There are five chapters in the manga alone for the succeeding arc.

Anyway, the dialogue in the last 15 minutes or so has changed.

From Chapter 8:

Ron: I... almost ended up killing you. If something like this happens again, and the person I’m solving a case with dies… Forget being a detective, Id be so overwhelmed with despair that I wouldn’t be able to go on living.

From the episode 6:

Ron: “Something like that”? I nearly killed you. If anything like it happened again, and you died I'd despair of myself and wouldn't be able to carry on.

The difference lies that the anime writer has edited out the flowery generalisation but immediately got on with the killer word “you” as in Toto Isshiki.

And this momentous addition:

Toto: Until you can believe in yourself, I'll stick with you! Okay?

So far, my RonToto heart is full. But hopefully, the writer will stick to it until the end.

PS: They might forget Toto’s mention of grandmother but they make sure that he is polite and has good manners saying his apologies again for Ron’s eccentric behaviour.

[bitbybitwrites]

OK . . am a day late . . . but not much has been done around here, bc I was struggling to finish the latest chapter of Puppy Love. (my RWRB WIP).

But here's what I got for you - snippets from a couple of ficlet fridays I'm working on (one RWRB, one Klaine) that are going to really be a wee bit longer than what I share here and a snippet of the next chapter of my Klaine WIP - If I Can Make Your Heart My Home . . all under the cut.

Also, by the way, many thanks to the following folks who tagged me for this and six/several/seven sentence sunday these past few weeks - you are all awesome!:

@alasse9 @daisyishedwig @onthewaytosomewhere, @thesleepyskipper @forabeatofadrum

@sophie1973 @wordsofhoneydew @porcelainmortal @taste-thewaste @blueeyedgrlwrites

@annepi-blog @duchessdepolignaca03 @softboynick @thinkof-england

And if I forgot anyone I'm sorry!

1.) From If I Can Make Your Heart My Home (Klaine fic)

“Yes, Bradford. I’m curious as well.   What are you doing here?” Four heads whipped around quickly to focus on Lillian, her face inscrutable, watching them all from a few feet away. Bradford Anderson stepped through the doorway, forcing Cooper to back away reluctantly and frowning as he did so.  Cooper sidled closer to Blaine who had a similar expression on his face. Bradford leaned down to kiss Lillian on the cheek.  “Aren’t I allowed to come see my own mother - or even my sons?” Lillian’s mouth pursed as she debated her reply.  “I did think you and Pamela were spending the holiday season in south of France this year. You can’t blame me for being surprised at this impromptu visit.” Bradford shrugged as he removed his wool overcoat and held it out wordlessly towards his sons.  Blaine tentatively took it from his father.  Cooper quickly tore it from Blaine’s hands and tossed it unceremoniously into a nearby chair. “Yes, well, what a lovely day for a family reunion,” Cooper said tightly.  “But we were just sitting down with Nan for dinner . . ." “Wonderful,” Bradford said, cutting Cooper off from the rest of his thought.  “I think I’ll join you.”   And in a display of sheer self-centered obliviousness, Bradford Anderson waltzed out of the foyer and into the direction of the dining room, ignoring the rest of the party gaping at him as he walked by. For a few moments the four remaining in the hallways just stood in silence, unsure exactly what had happened before them. Kurt knew this was bad.  Very, very bad. He knew the last person on earth Blaine would have wanted to see right now, besides maybe Kurt, was his father. ‘Perhaps . . .I should go?”  Kurt suggested meekly. “I don’t want to interfere with any. . . um, family affairs . . .” he whispered.  Lilian sighed deeply as she closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose in an apparent sign of frustration with her own flesh and blood. “No, Kurt, please stay." she said. "You’ve been kind enough to cook for us and before our surprise guest made his appearance, I was going to ask you to join us.  I had just wanted to check with Blaine first. Blaine, sweetheart, what do you want us to do?” Lilian quietly asked. The question however, fell on deaf ears.  Blaine was all too focused on staring towards the direction his father disappeared to than listening to his grandmother. Kurt could practically feel the tension radiating off of him. “Squirt?” Cooper gently touched his brother’s arm. “Are you alright?” “Oh yeah, just perfect, “ Blaine muttered bitterly. “Blaine?” Blaine’s head quickly tuned to Kurt, who was nervously  was twisting the hem of his apron in his fingers.  “I can go, Blaine.  I don’t want to make things any more difficult for you than it already is.” “Stay. . .go.  It doesn’t matter to me,” Blaine said flatly.   “Blaine, I can tell your father to leave," Lillian said softly.  “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Blaine’s mouth set into a grim line as he squared his shoulders and started walking in the direction of where his father had left.  “Let’s just . . .get this over with,” he mumbled loud enough for the rest of them to hear.

*****

2.) Color Me Surprised (RWRB Ficlet Friday)

*I had a fic idea that I had stalled a bit on until I got this Fictlet Friday prompt - so I've decided to combine the two:

“No.” “Yes.” “No, Pez.  I think I’d rather eat glass.” Percy cocked a well-groomed eyebrow and regarded his best friend skeptically.  “I’m confused.  I’d thought you’d be at least a bit interested.   It is a rite of passage, especially in this area, no?” Henry sighed as he tipped his head back.  “Perhaps, but one I’m not sure I want to partake in.” “Hazza,” Pez chided his childhood friend.  “You are young, single and incredibly hot.  Why are you not taking advantage on all of this?” He shook his head in confusion.  “Stop acting like you're being tarred and feathered.  It’s just an extended weekend.  You have been cooped up in this office beating yourself up over the writers block you’ve been suffering from.  I am giving you a change of scenery, that’s all.” “And I suppose you propose I find my inspiration there?" “We're going to Fire Island. It's like gay Disney World.”  Pez elaborated.  “I propose there will be many a tight-bodied, ravishing specimen of inspiration to blow not only your writers block out of the water but hopefully your back as well as . ." Pez coughed and tossed in a very pointed look. ". . . well, one could hope. . . other neglected things.”  Pez' s rather pointed look was all too familiar to Henry. Henry groaned as he leaned his elbows onto his desk and dropped his head in his hands.  Pez smirked.  He knew he had won. “There will be vodka involved, won’t there?” Henry said as he mumbled through his fingers. “Of course, my darling.  Is there any doubt?”

3.) fire island follies (Klaine Ficlet Friday)

“I don’t know if this is a good idea, San.” Santana looked over at her friend and smirked.  “Lookin’ a little green about the gills, Hobbit.  You ok?” Blaine took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he clutched his duffle bag close to his chest.  The ferry was going through choppy water, and his stomach wasn't faring well at all.  No one could blame him; Blaine was from central Ohio and hadn't had much experience being on the open ocean. He opened his mouth to respond, but the moment the boat hit a particularly large wave.   The sea vessel bounced so much that Blaine snapped his mouth shut quickly, clapping one hand over it.  Santana swore he looked even more pale than he had a minute ago. “Don’t you dare hurl on me, Anderson.  I will kill you if you ruin these shoes.” A young couple and their kid moved away from where Blaine and Santana were sitting, looking at the young man warily.  Blaine gave them a weak smile and wave before he peered down at Santana's open-toe espadrilles. “Fancy footwear for the beach, don’t you think?” Santana snorted as she wiggled her Burberry-clad foot at Blaine.  "I gots to look good for my sweetie.” She leaned over and poked him in the side.  He squawked and batted her hand away.  “Can you just give me a smile for once and not look like I’m dragging you to your death.” The boat hit another wave and bounced again.  “I feel like death,” Blaine said through gritted teeth as his stomach did another somersault. "Just kill me now." “Oh, perk up, sunshine.  We're going to Fire Island.  It's like gay Disney World."

****

Well there ya go . . am also tagging ( if you are interested in sharing whatever you are working on - writing or otherwise): @spaceorphan18 @datshitrandom @justgleekout @myheartalivewrites @14carrotghoul

@little-escapist @cha-melodius @kirakiwiwrites @caramelcoffeeaddict @almightaylor

@1908jmd @tinyarmedtrex @theprinceandagcd @iboatedhere

@gleefuldarrencrissfan @gleefulpoppet @itsmaybitheway @kurtsascot @mynonah

@esilher @cryscendo @porcelainandthehobbit @hkvoyage @madas-ahatters-world

@sarkyblueeyes

And open tag of course for any one else!

[mekiiiii]

ethereal beauty

summary: a mermaid? they exist? unbelievable, alhaitham thought until he saw you while reading. a couple of peering eyes that would somehow come to a promise of "let us meet again one day"

a/n: this is probably ooc but im trying to write as close as i possibly frikin can (s/c)=scale color bc ur a mermaid babe

content: mermaid!reader x alhaitham, childhood friends, (forgotten) promises, fluff, many MANY timeskips, brief mentions of alhaithams late grandma, siblings? you have siblings, ur a dancer but also a scholar? idk what im doing, gn reader, i use mermaid more as a gender neutral term u can think of it as merman too!, ooc alhaitham🤷

pt2

(lowercase intended)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

alhaitham, a sharp kid, a mere boy who inherited his late-father's enjoyment for reading...

now was going to the docks to fetch some things for his grandmother, when he noticed a slight unusual glimmer in the water. usually it's just the light from the sun to the water, but this one was different. it appeared more vibrant.

must be his imagination, he thought.

-

a sleepy alhaitham, despite his fatigue, he couldnt rest no matter how much we wished. he looks into the deep night and waning crescent moon. he deeply contemplated attempting to sleep, only to release it would end in failure and waste time anyways, he recalls in a book that sometimes night walks help people sleep, so walk he did.

...

he quietly walked, slipping from his grandmother's abode to the just to the docks of sumeru city. despite the bustling city, it has gone quiet around midnight. taking a seat near the edge of the dock, he stared into the waters, reminiscing of the intriguing sparkle of color he thought he saw, and then.. he saw it once more?

this time under the light of the crescent moon..

his eyes wandered from the book in his hands and to the waters of the quiet city. staring intensely as if he was.. looking for something..

a quiet swish of water was noticed and if not heard by the boy, out of his intense staring, his gaze seemed to soften but his eyes were wide in disbelief.

a pair of glowing (e/c) orbs peered at him, slowly rising a bit more out of the water, he noted down the noticable features of the mermaid.

a beautiful shade of (h/c), (s/c) scales, elf like ears that are decorated with said scales, and of course, curious eyes.

with a slight tilt of your head, he could tell you were curious or if not, confused. unlike others, you were yet to be taught that humans could be dangerous. some with bad intentions hidden by pure facades.

you sent your greetings, only for alhaitham to tilt his head signalling confusion just as you did.

quickly realizing he didnt quite understand, you simply said,

"hello.."

the quiet tone of your voice, the unfamiliarity of his first language was understood by alhaitham.

"hello, what's your name?"

"(y/n)"

"alhaitham, that's mine."

-

you and alhaitham have been friends for many years now. despite your, differences in both language and life. you both have a somewhat mutual understanding of each other.

alhaitham has been busy as of late, he seems to be a bit more down lately. has something happened? is he okay? he can tell you anything, he knows that right? the anxious feelings invade your mind and fill your thoughts.

"y/n."

the quiet tone of your name shook you, but of course, you quickly hummed in response. alhaitham hasn't spoke as much, but it will always be appreciated.

"i got accepted into the akademiya, meaning we won't be able to meet for the time being."

"oh?"

he nodded,

this would upset you, if it weren't for the fact that you as well had your fair of work needed to be done. helping your brother find a partner, crowning him, helping him find an assistant that would benefit his future kingdom. as well as your sister, who you would need to finish the final preparations for the declaration of her lead of the army she dreamed of leading, as well as helping her plan her wedding.

you were busy, so was alhaitham, but what could be upsetting him?

"well, can i ask you to promise me something?"

"it depends."

"haha, real funny,"

"whats the promise?"

"let us meet again one day."

you swear you heard him laugh a bit.

"alright."

-

you rarely came out of the water completely, let alone walked around. however, your brothers assistant has requested you fetch something for them, as they are too busy to do so themselves and apparently, it was at your brothers request.

you walked around in a dancers outfit, customized to match nilou's. you and her have been good friends for awhile and you both deeply enjoy each other's company.

you walk from different booths and stands, finally finding the item your brother requested. finally about to go back under the waters and to your abode. you're practically daydreaming about going home and resting in the comfort of your space... being able to have some personal time to your self and-

"Ugh."

you bumped into someone... falling on your butt in the process.

looking up, to see a man with grey hair, cyan eyes with a nice hue of orange towards the iris, and disappointed frown.

you couldve sworn you've seen that face before..

"apologies." he sighed.

then it clicked.

"alhaitham?" you spoke while he was walking away.

"hm?"

you couldnt believe it, it was alhaitham, as in the one you knew as a kid? the one who read you his books, taught you the language of teyvat, promised to see you again?!

"long time no see!" you grinned

"huh? who are you?" he said genuinely confused..

you stood there in disbelief, how could he.. your childhood friend, the one who agreed to the promise, forget you? his childhood mermaid friend..

"uhm? we were childhood friends 'haitham"

"were we?"

he couldnt have seriously forgotten..

or could he? maybe this was an act for his entertainment? but he actually looked puzzled, not as if he was trying to play a game or some sort.

"hm, maybe i was mistaken, apologies."

you couldn't take the embarrassment any longer, feeling the eyes of the people around you reminded you of your errand.

-

who would have thought, a mermaid royal advisor would end up being a scholar, sent on a mission t understand the world above, the very life they live.

nearly forgetting that your dearest childhood friend, alhaitham, was graduated from the akademiya..

let alone a scribe and the current acting grand sage. let's just say your disbelief was to the stars and beyond.

you don't think he recognized you, or even noticed you were in the akademiya.

the akademiya was easy for you, you were all knowing and all your project topics were based on the ancient ruins under the sea, let's say you easily handled this.

but with an upcoming test you find yourself in the library studying day and night.

..not really studying more like revising of what you had gone off of.. the test was more of your general knowledge and to see what you've learned from your years of study.

and of course, you were still a breathing, living, functioning being. therefore who could blame you if you just so happened to pass out... catch a little bit of a cold... and wake up in an entirely different room a week before the test..

not that anyone could blame you really...

"sleep is needed for the human body to function, you know that right?"

who could that be, you wonder....

nah who are you kidding, it's alhaitham.

"where am i," you attempted to get up before being slightly pushed down.

"at my house. don't get up, you're sick"

oh,

you furrowed your eyebrows as if trying to process what he said, well not if trying, you were processing what he said.

you're "sick" but you've never gotten sick in your life, no matter how much you overworked, under-slept, or how stressed out you were. you were never sick, but this time you are? how could this be?

this thinking was certainly turning your brain to mush considering you were answering alhaithams questions subconsciously.

"if i recall, you've said we met before and that we were childhood friends."

"could you refresh my memory?"

you stared into his eyes, it looks like his gaze was softened, not too focused on the sight in front of him.

subconsciously, you ruffled his hair, something you used to do when you were kids. alhaitham looked puzzled on why or what you were doing, wanting to move away but hesitating, it's as if he was letting his guard down.

only just a bit though..

"im y/n, dont you remember? the mermaid?"

he seemed to remember now,

"y/n? but why are you here?"

"for fun." you yawned.. "so sleepy.."

your hand slid down to his face, eventually falling back to your side, signaling that you were gonna fall asleep once more.

taking note of your drooping eyes and your body relaxing, he rubbed your scalp as if trying to ease you into sleep..

and it worked.... you thought you heard him say something, but you were much too tired to hear it.

but you did hear a few words.

"sweet dreams, y/n"

.

.

.

[darklordazalin]

Azalin Reviews: Darklord Saidra d'Honaire

Domain: Dementlieu Domain Formation: Not specified (707 BC old sources) Power level:💀💀💀 ⚫⚫ Sources: Van Ricthen’s Guide to Ravenloft (5e)

I wrote of the original Darklord of Dementliue, Dominic d'Honaire last week. In the good doctor’s latest guide, the Domain of Dementlieu has maintained it’s love of decadence masking the truth with virtually every citizen maintaining the lie that they are more than they appear to be. Saidra D’Honaire, the new Darklord, being the grand duchess of delusion.

Saidra grew up on a small farm with her father who claimed he was exiled from his rightful place as a Duke by his younger brother. Saidra threw herself fully into this fancy. She bullied other children into entertaining her, declaring it her right because of her “superior” birth. These children must have been of a timid nature to put of with that nonsense.

Saidra’s father remarried a successful merchant who already had two daughters of her own. This new found family scorned Saidra and her fantasies and treated her like a servant despite the family’s wealth. Saidra’s father must have been absent or dense or both as he did nothing about this.

When a nearby Duke died and when she asked if it was her father’s wicked brother, her father finally told her the truth. He was the Duke’s servant and fled after he was caught trying to steal from him. Saidra was unable to face reality and prayed over her mother’s grave for guidance. What she got was a grandmother type appearing seemingly out of nowhere who granted her jewels and attire so she could attend the masquerade ball for the new Duke’s coronation.

It is never wise to accept magical gifts from unknown individuals. I think all of us Darklords can agree that they rarely give such things for free and typically have a malevolent purpose. Though, from the start, Saidra did not hold much to logic and realism, so it is no surprise that she accepted these gifts without question.

At the ball the glamour that surrounded her captured the Duke’s attentions and Saidra’s original plan of murdering him to claim what was hers was quickly replaced with the idea of marrying him. I’m curious to hear how she planned on murdering him in front of an entire ballroom of people and claiming his title without complaint seeing as she only brought a single blade with her…

None of these vague plans mattered in the end, because at midnight a plague overtook the guests and killed them all. As some do upon their inevitable deaths (trust me, I’ve seen it enough to know), the Duke confessed that the true Duke had no legitimate children and he was actually the son of a common servant who fled the household after an attempted theft. Realizing that this man she had contemplated marrying moments ago was not an actual Duke and was her brother, disgusted Saidra so she killed him with her blade before the plague did.

I would guess that this plague was part of Saidra’s untold deal with the “grandmotherly” figure who granted her “wish” earlier that evening. The plague claimed Saidra as well and when she awoke she was an undead wraith bound to the Domain of Dementlieu.

She is now the Duchess she always dreamed of being, but in her undead condition, cannot enjoy many of the decadence and delicacies that title grants her. To blend in with mortal society, she must wear a mask, which resulted in her hosting a masquerade ball once every 7 days. There she delights in unmasking those she deems unworthy or trying to disguise themselves as being above their alloted station all the while fearing her own exposure.

When not holding her little, pointless parties, Saidra stalks the streets as a wraith cloaked in a crimson shadow. Her people refer to this form of hers as the Red Death.

Saidra is a regular wraith in an elaborate mask who can occasionally cast one power spell (Disintegration) at pretenders. A woman forever clinging to a fantasy when the life on a farm is just as noble if not more so in many cases. The fact that she kills her subjects regularly at her parties without consequence (yet anyway), indicates she has sufficient control over her people. Still, a brave group of individuals could easily confront and expose her and I would wager that none of her subjects would interfere.

[green-alien-turdz]

hey i kinda just wanted to lyk that i really appreciate your potrayal of all the boys (esp tweek bc i also lived w my grandmother for a time) as someone who’s struggling heavily w sh/ed🩶🩶🩶 it makes me feel so seen honestly. is it ok if you could share some craig n tweek headcanons? :)

!

#1 thank you, I'm glad you like it lol #2 Ayy fellow grandma liver, love finding my people who also lived with their grandma for usually terrible reasons (I say this sarcastically, I hope that you and thatsituation have gotten better). #3 I'm sorry to hear that you're struggling right now, I get it completely, I'm right there with ya. If you ever need someone to talk to, my PM's are always open.

#4 Yes I can share some with you! Feel free to send another ask if you have specific questions or headcanons you were curious about. I am also answering for hc's revolving around them together, if you wanted individual headcanons, let me know.

They've been goin (mostly) strong for 8 years straight. There were some slight bumps when Tweek's parents were arrested in 7th grade, and he had to not only come to terms with bein drugged, but also a rather long detox and rehabilitation. It's not that Craig wasn't there for him, he really did try to be, but it was more that Tweek was extremely unstable and lost trust in just about everyone, and his paranoia amplified significantly since. Once Tweek was at a more calm and stable state, they were able to pick up where they left off, only this time, with a few more 'quirks'. Craig currently works as a pizza delivery driver, and has a tendency to let Tweek come along with him on his shift (which has Tweek also spending a lot of time to do fuck all in the car while Craig fulfills duties in the store). There's not too many times that they are apart due to Tweek's paranoia of everyone but Craig, also fearing that something bad will happen to Craig if he's not there. They're always at each other's houses, and don't mind the lack of separation. I've mentioned before that Tweak Bros. was reopened by other family members, and while Tweek doesn't work in-store, he does bake and drop off the items, which is how he makes a living. I am blanking right now, but they also both like to make fun of eachothers hair. Tweek can't cut his hair for shit n always makes it a choppy mess, all while starting to have white/greying due to the emotional aftermath of his parents arrest. And Craig is already developing a bald spot before he's even 20.

[starlightiing]

Are you new to F1? What got you into it? I promise I'm just curious!

I'm new to being THIS into F1 yeah for sure. I've watched it in the past here and there but not really ever gotten involved deeply. My dad loves every kind of racing that exists so my sister and I were brought up on every kind of racing that exists lmao.

But my grandmother passed away recently and my fiance took a last-minute emergency flight into the US to be with me (he lives in Scotland right now) through the services and a bit after. One day he, very shyly, asked if we could "just put quali on? If that's okay. It won't be too long I promise." and I was like omg of course??

So I ended up getting him all set up in my grandpa's livingroom and not even 5 mins after I had it all together, my grandpa and my dad came running in to watch it as well and before I knew it, the whole family was in there having a good, fun, smiley time during what was the biggest tragedy our family has gone through since my uncle passed 25 years ago.

The next day he shyly suggested the race and everyone was like "hell yeah!" and so we all piled in to watch it. It was a lovely time, Stu was nice enough to give us all the rundown on the drivers and such (because I knew none of them at the time) and then come to find out - bc my sister called after the race - that she's obsessed with F1 and has been holding out on us as well.

So Stu single-handedly got a few of us hooked during a time we needed it most and now I cling to it like a comfort blanket because it's really nice to be watching again after all these years. We have a little chat group specifically to talk about F1 with each other lmao.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Blue Scoops: Chapter 2

summary: our little secret.

pairing: eventual f!reader x javier peña, chucho peña

contents: 18+/nsfw/minors dni, food mention, illusion to drug use, grief

WC: 1.9k

AN: happy blue scoops day! to everyone who has continued to read despite my absence on this app— thank you. it’s been a rough couple months but i do plan on slowly making my way back here bc i miss everyone. we are just a half chapter away from blue and javi meeting for the first time so thanks for you patience. as always thoughts, questions, comments are appreciated! <3

chapter 1 | series masterlist | misc. masterlist

The air feels noticeably fresh, still humid, but there’s something that starts to feel different as the days pass. You begin to settle in and it finally feels as if you’re starting anew, like the true beginning is here. While you’re not sure why, you decide to accept the shift, it couldn’t do any harm. Maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to let yourself dip your toe into the pool of living, even if it’s temporary.

You set off into town, wanting to get some decor and supplies for the house, food to stock the fridge and pantry. It’ll also give you an opportunity to scope out the local bakeries and cafes, and decide which ones you think you want to apply to if they're hiring. There has to be at least one that’ll be a good fit, but you aren’t in any rush with the sum of money in your bank account and minimal bills to pay. There’s a desperate necessity to get this right– if things go poorly here you aren’t sure what you’ll do with the rest of your life. If you’re being completely honest with yourself, you aren’t too sure now, but you’re doing the best you can to find a path.

This little town–as your grandfather had described it– has more to it than you anticipated. You spend the entire day in one thrift store, combing through things sold and forgotten in hopes to find things that call out to you. And when the shop closes, you head to the grocery store picking up the necessities with a plan to go back into town tomorrow.

Same as the day before, in each place you visit, a name continues to show up: Javier Peña. Signs, flyers, banisters all praising him, saying how much of a hero he is for his work with the DEA. It’s vaguely familiar, you’d seen all the Pablo Escobar stuff on the news but it hadn’t piqued your interest, your exposure to the effects of drugs ended with the death of your grandmother and you didn’t plan to go back. When you ask a cashier about it while at another thrift store, she gushes about Javier, eyes glazing over as she clutches the money in her hands close to her heart.

She looks ridiculous and you can assume that he must be incredibly handsome with the doe eyed look on her face.

She says after spewing incredibly too long, “I heard he may be coming home soon since they’ve taken down that other cartel. The Cali or whatever. I hope they throw a parade so we can all meet him.”

While you’re curious to know about the town hero you figure there isn’t much to learn while he’s not here. “Hopefully,” You agree with her, before gathering your new knick knacks and heading home.

You’re just about to start on some lunch when there’s a gentle knock at your door. You set down the loaf of bread, wiping your hands on your apron as you make your way to the door. Upon looking through the peephole you see a short man with tan skin and a grey beard. There’s a rather large hat on his head and a pair of aviators perched on his worn face.

“Hi, how can I help you?” You ask through the screen door, a polite smile on your face.

He doesn’t smile back but his expression isn’t unkind, “I’m Chucho. Chucho Peña. Been coming by here and making sure things stay tame.”

You recognize that name, your mind immediately flashing to the cashier in the grocery store, ranting and raving about that DEA agent, Javier Peña. It doesn’t feel right to ask him anything personal yet, you’ve just met the man, and you squash your curiosity and give into your surprise.

“You’ve been doing this by yourself?” You ask incredulously.

He shrugs, “It’s not too much, just some basic maintenance.”

His nonchalance pulls a laugh from your throat, and you open the screen door, stepping out onto the porch with him.

“I really appreciate that Chucho, I don’t think my grandparents thought about what would happen to this place once they left. I’m (Y/N), some people call me Blue. It’s great to meet you,” You offer your hand and he shakes it with a firm grip.

“Blue,” He repeats softly, a smile spreading across his face for just a moment. “I can keep coming by here if you’d like?”

“I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You didn’t, I offered,” He counters and you’re grinning again.

He’s stubborn, reminds you of your grandfather and for the first time since he passed, it doesn’t hurt to think about him. You don’t shy away from it, or having this man that reminds you of him around. In fact it feels nice— lighter.

“At least let me pay you.”

Chucho shakes his head, hands up in protest, “Oh, no, mija, for free only.”

You narrow your eyes at him as you formulate a rebuttal, “What if I paid you with food?”

“That I think I’d be okay with.”

“Yeah? I thought so. I’ll make some lunch and leave the door open in case you need to come in. If you need anything just holler.”

Chucho has the entire lawn to mow, so you decide to make more than just sandwiches for lunch. You’ve bought ingredients for a caprese pasta salad as well, and you put on a pot of water to boil the noodles, taking your time to finely chop up basil and garlic. Every once and a while as you work, you take a glance out the window, watch as the man diligently pushes the lawn mower with seemingly no problem. By the time he’s entering the house, you’ve plated his sandwich and some of the pasta salad, a tall glass of frosty lemonade to accompany.

The smile that lights up his face and his soft murmur of thanks hits you in the gut, and you reflect on how much you love taking care of others.

In your grief you'd forgotten the warmth that accompanies fulfilling the needs of another. Your grandfather had died and somehow your nurturing spirit had gone with him, a primary recipient of your love and care gone. And in his absence, that role had been shifted to Oliver, all you were able to do it's take and take and take.

There’s another thing to apologize to Ollie for.

Chucho makes himself at home at your kitchen island, propping up on one of the stools you’d snagged at a tiny thrift store yesterday as he takes his first bite. There’s something comfortable about him, and there’s no hesitation when you pull up a stool across from him, joining him in the silence.

But even in the livable silence, your mind has a plethora of questions to ask this man who showed up at your door ready to show you a kindness you don’t deserve.

You keep your eyes trained on a cherry tomato in front of you, rolling it around on your plate, “I know this is a little personal to ask when we’re just meeting but did you know my grandparents?”

He hums thoughtfully, choosing his words carefully before answering, “I knew of your grandmother. Her family, your family, was well known around the community— goes back generations. Your grandmother…well you knew her better than I did.”

There’s something unspoken in his reply and you realize that your grandmother's battles with substance abuse must've started here. You’re not sure how you feel about that, undecided if it makes you angrier that none of you ever had a chance or if the small glimmers of compassion you hold for her grow deeper. She’d been so young, so naive, so vulnerable. Your grandfather loved her anyway. Even with your resentment, you find something beautiful in his willingness to give himself to her despite it all.

It’s strange to not have known anyone but your father and grandparents. You wonder where it’d went wrong, how she’d ended up the way she did.

“She made some not so great decisions. I’m guessing she didn’t live up to my family's reputation?” You dare a glance at him, catching the way he shrugs.

“From what I know everyone just wanted better for her.”

“She was a stubborn thing, I’m sure that just made her rebel more.”

“Despite her actions or struggle, your family name still means a lot in this town,” He reassures but it does anything but.

You’re not here to carry on your family’s legacy, whatever it may be. You’re here to rediscover yourself, to find out if there’s anything in this world that you feel is truly for you. Optics and family duties aren’t what you signed up for, not that you’d know the first thing about what that looks like.

“That’s a lot of pressure,” You murmur mostly to yourself but loud enough for him to hear.

“It can be our little secret,” He smiles again, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Its infectious and you can’t help but smile back at him, “I really appreciate that Chucho.”

He sets down his fork on his now clear plate, finishing the rest of his lemonade as he stands with a stretch, “Well I’ll get going but here’s my card. I run the ranch out on the other edge of town.”

“All by yourself?” You ask again as you pluck the card of his hand, and this time it warrants a chuckle from him.

“It’s not much work but my son should be home soon to help out.”

“Javier, right? I’ve seen his name around on flyers and signs. The town really loves him.”

You notice the way he stiffens when you mention the flyers and praise, and curiosity blooms in you once again. But you’ve heckled this man enough, and have plenty of time to get to know him and potentially his son better. In fact, you find yourself looking forward to it.

“That’s my Javi,” The obvious affection for his son rings clear in his tone, and your heart squeezes in your chest.

“I’ll let you know if I need anything else, but maybe I could make you dinner out of appreciation for all those times you took care of the house?” You offer as you walk him to the door.

“You’ve got my card. Give me a call.”

“I will. Take care, Chucho.”

“You too.”

You busy yourself immediately with the kitchen, feeling an unwanted swell of emotion once Chucho’s gone.

Loneliness. It hits harder than it has in days.

Being alone is what you need right now you’ve come to terms with that. Missing Oliver and the phone calls you have with him don’t elicit this level of emptiness but you let that realization go, not ready to open up that can of worms any further. You’ve been so painfully lonely, and spending time ever with a stranger felt like a breath of fresh air. Some of that has to do with how isolated you are.

It’s only 4 in the afternoon once you finish prepping more food and cleaning up the kitchen but as you slide some tupperware into the fridge you pull out a bottle of wine, not even bothering with a glass. Lingering near the hallway, you shut off the lights, keeping your eyes trained on the box of your grandparents before letting out a sigh and heading towards your bedroom. Taking the first sips you ignore that scratching feeling inside you.

Another time. You’ll handle it all another time.

> chapter 3

taglist: @lesbianhotch, @honeybrowne, @jazzelsaur, @mccn-bcys, @jxvipike, @thevoiceinyourheadx, @hotchs-bitch, @laurensprentiss, @pedrito-friskito, @lola766, @amb11, @vanemando15, @emilianamason, @iamskyereads, @welcometostayingawake, @thevoiceinyourheadx

[lesless]

Some thoughts on marriage

Growing up I never really understood the idea of marriage. My mom had me at 16 or somewhere near that, & was only married briefly as a result of being pregnant with me & having a less than ideal home life, which she wanted to get out of. My dad has been married or engaged 5 or more times, though now he’s old enough not to lure in underaged girls or young women & is now happily married to a woman who I really like. My great grandparents, who I grew up with, were married over 50 years, & though they bickered I understood that they had committed to each other & my great grandpa took care of my great grandmother through her senility, hiding it until it was noticeable to all.

So, I have mixed views on the topic. On one hand, it seems insane to me to enter into a legal contract for a relationship especially considering I’m not religious in the traditional sense. On the other, I find it incredibly romantic & a statement of devotion.

I my early 20’s the only person I remember breaking up with me (who really just beat me to it, bc I was unhappy & didn’t want to be with him really) told me that the reason he didn’t want to be with me is that he “couldn’t imagine marrying” me, which to me felt stupid & I was fine with at the time (& still am, he was a mess). When I met someone I was infatuated with, he talked about how he was “going to marry that girl” in reference to the last girl he dated, during the first 6 months we were together, which really bothered me. They were together for a year or less as far as I can gather. He later admitted it was because her family had a lot of connections in the film industry, which made me feel a little disgusted by his intentions of marriage if I’m being honest.

Personally, I’ve driven hard lines in the ground with people I’ve dated. Either I’m with you or not, & with you means I’m in 100%. I’m not going to leave unless there’s some seriously extenuating circumstances, such as, my last partner had a serious alcohol problem & got really scary & mean before I decided it was safer for me to leave than stay with them.

Nowadays, I’m with someone I adore & I feel adores me back. We have been together 5 years in a few weeks, which will mark the longest relationship I’ve ever been in. Simultaneously, our family is mentioning marriage (& have been for years).

& im at this crossroads. I think both of us have some doubt about the whole concept of marriage, our families respectively having a long history of divorce & the mess that entails. But also, is that something I actually want? I’m not sure.

By now I did imagine myself with kids of my own, though I love my freedom & ability to do what I want. Marriage feels like the end of that freedom to a certain extent, but also feels like the agreement on a future, & security. We haven’t talked about it, truly. Sometimes I think my partner is working towards a more secure future for us before that, & every time he talks about the future he says US, which is also reassuring.

If he asked I would say yes, but as time rolls on & my experiences & friends get hitched after only a year or two, I do wonder if I’m just not the kind of person someone would want to marry, as that long buried ex said. Or, are people just stupid & rushing into things? Are people just agreeing to things based on their circumstances & ideology? The people I know who have gotten married, largely, also became very institutionally religious. Which, good for them, but that’s not where I am.

I suppose I’m curious what readers think of marriage. What are the criteria? What is the deciding factor? Do you just know?

I’ve also known people happily not married with children in 10+ year relationships. I suppose theres no universal right answer to any of this. Just something I’m pondering after some deeply itchy nightmares.

[bonesbuckleup]

You’re writing a book?! What the hell that’s so exciting!!

I was gonna ask you about it bc I’m 👀🍽️ but then I saw the ask game you were having and realized that nr 17 fits perfectly >:) (ofc you can be as specific as you want/are able to be) I’m also really curious about 23, more specifically if there’s a place you often go to where you generally feel more productive?

(and if these have already been asked you can just pick whichever question you feel like you want to answer lol ♥️)

Answering out of order!

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

I have a standing desk in my bedroom with a walking pad. On that desk is a Bluetooth keyboard, a stand for my laptop, and a second monitor. There's also a lamp, some speakers, a copy of Save the Cat Writes a Novel, a bunch of notebooks, some scrap paper, a mug with pens, some thumb tacks, and a candle. I've got a white board to the left, cork boards, and a conspiracy wall of paper taped everywhere for easy-access notes. I'm talking full Pepe Silvia set up, to be honest. It is not elegant, but it gets the job done.

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

Rambling vaguely about my original projects beneath the cut. There are two: the one I'm about to rewrite that I've been submitting to agents, and then the shiny new thing.

Project One! A YA contemporary fantasy novel called Initiate. To steal my twitter pitch/aesthetic.

The women of 16-year-old Cal Townsend's family have two traditions--witchcraft and secrets. When her father suddenly dies, and Cal is sent to live with her estranged maternal grandmother on a remote island in Lake Superior, Cal unknowingly enters into both. Initiate has:

Great Lakes gothic vibes

A Superior-based magic system

Queer kids trying their best

Sentient shadows

Hauntings of various kinds

Breaking generational curses

So! Much! Ice!

ANYWAY. I am about to rip that one apart at the seams, so that's all I have to say about it. However, I am also working on a new one that would probably appeal to Batfam fandom fans, so why not pop it in here as well.

It does not have a title yet, and is only the crime mage boys wip.

Set in a world that's exactly like ours except magic is an unquestioned part of it, the vibe of the crime mage boys wip is The Outsiders meets Rear Window but, like, also with magic and Chicago. Basically almost everyone has the capacity to do small magic (light a cigarette with a snap of the fingers, etc etc), but a small portion of the population can't do any (null) and another small portion can do big magic (mages).

The Grayson brothers (I know okay shut up) are hanging on by a thread. Leo (23, null, Tired™️) has been his brothers' legal guardian for the past 5 years and works multiple jobs with long hours to keep them afloat. JT (18/19, on week 52 of being in a bad mood) was a promising mage who had his magic permanently cut off by the police after being in the wrong place at the wrong time-- effectively torpedoing every future plan he'd ever had in a single night and leaving him floundering. Miles (14, protagonist, text book flight risk) just wants to keep his head down and not add to his brothers' many problems.

To bring in some extra money, Miles secretly works for a PI and helps her gather evidence (photos of cheaters caught in the act, checking to see if people really live at addresses--low risk recon jobs, basically). But add in a witnessed murder, a DIY-vigilante who keeps putting himself in Miles's way, and a growing mages' rights movement sweeping over the city, and Miles is getting a hell of a lot more than he bargained for.

ANYWAY that one is still very much in progress, but please enjoy these picrews of the three brothers: Miles, JT, and Leo, in that order.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Also, question about Karimi:

Idk if you're planning on having her story entertained more with the straw hats but I'm a sucker for romantic stories where they have their best friend that they would die for and their lover just has to put up with it and eventually adopts them, with like a spare room in their house and everything. It's just so sweet and adds more to the story that fleshes out the characters

So, who do you think would be Karimis person? Like, obviously Mihawk mentors Zoro, but who would be Karimis (even if you're not taking it that direction, which I totally respect)

Me, personally I'm of the headcanon that Mihawk does eventually become fond of Usopp (not by choice) BC he keeps up the 'best friend' shtick when he's too drunk to be scared of the consequences, and Mihawk secretly loves the gossip.

I had already planned for Karimi's "person" to be Zoro. She unintentionally bonded with him the most during her short stint with the Strawhats, largely due to the fact that they both have similar backgrounds (both set out to meet their goals as a result of losing someone close to them and remained relatively solitary until Luffy happened), and he's a good sparring partner (though their fighting styles are quite different, they do both use blades). Nothing remotely romantic, they just ended up meshing well.

That being said, she loves the whole crew more than she would like to admit. She's tried for the most part to avoid forming emotional attachments to anyone since her grandmother's death because she's terrified of history repeating itself. She has a particularly soft spot for Luffy, aadmires how he looks at his dream of becoming Pirate King as an absolute certainty— not just that he wants it, it's that he wholly intends to make it a reality and won't take no for an answer regardless of any opposition. She also has a more direct connection with him that I'll be revealing later down the line.

Her pledging her loyalty to Mihawk definitely won't be the last of her interaction with the Strawhats. He's pretty intrigued by them, after all, and Karimi's connection with them means he can just send her off to keep tabs on them from within if he happens to get curious about their progress.

Oh dear gods I LOVE the Usopp headcanon, yes yes YES. Can literally picture them gossiping over wine like half-drunk middle-aged women while Zoro and Karimi just kinda exchange a 👀 off to the side like

"what the actual fuck is happening right now"

"do we intervene"

"wait no this is actually hilarious let's just watch it play out"

[grecoromanyaoi]

sorry but lisistrata sounds hot. i actually made a little felt doll named lisistrata once! here look —

but but, i’m so curious about the stargazers!! they sound like so much fun to write actually it’s a fantastic premise. how does anca feel about her father trying to remove her from that community? does she have trouble fitting back in? and and does orlando have any resentment for being left behind and now anca being chosen as heir over him?

i love the doll!!!!! its so pretty!

and i really enjoy writing them! i think anca mostly believes what her grandmother (and brother) tells her, that her father was a traitor and he tried to steal her from her destiny and rightful life, and that he deserved to die. its not until she has children of her own where she one day looked at her daughter and went ok what the FUCK how could someone ever kill their own child.

and lisistrata is grooming both of them to be her heirs, and while orlando is going to be the de facto master, she wants anca 2 be their connection to the outside world (why she has her marry the prince) and expand their power and bring them more followers.

and the stargazers r the only society that has something that even slightly resembles our world's misogyny, bc they follow the path of the old plays and literature. and orlando is. psychosexually obsessed w anca and constructed like a 4d madonna-whore complex abt her and he thinks shes perfect but also thinks shes incapable of living her own life and that he should control her.