#but a post here would get max five notes anyway

[alvadee]

tomorrow my man (Vic, obv) will be 85 years old 😌🎂

[darnell-la]

i love the darkpervy!logan x reader content, pls make more!

summary: logan hated picking y/n up from bars and clubs, especially if her male best friend was there. she never listens to him, and tonight, he could only show her what happens when she gets as drunk as she does in public.

note: I think we’ve made a similar story like this, so we’ll try to make it a bit different.

“She’s drunk, peanut. Go and pick her up for me,” Wade told Logan as his eyes stayed on Vanessa who danced in front of him. “Why would I? She’s old enough to get around herself,” Logan said as he took a sip of his drink.

“It’s not like you’re enjoying this amazing, godsend of a woman dancing in front of us, anyway. Plus, Max is there, and you don’t want him taking her home, right?”

Logan’s fist tightened at the thought of Max being anywhere near y/n. He knew what kind of man that boy was. Logan wouldn’t be able to live in his shared apartment, knowing Max fucked her somewhere in there.

Logan got up without saying a word. “By the way, I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. I’m spending time with my future wife,” Wade shouted as Logan walked out of the bar door.

Logan had been sitting in his car for a while now. Usually, y/n comes right out, but by the videos, her friends are posting online, he knew she was having too much fun there.

Logan groaned as he stepped out of his truck, knowing he’d hate the sight of seeing y/n all over Max like she always is. He hated that thought. There was nothing special about Maximilian in any way.

“I’ll be right back, bub,” Logan told the security guard, so he wouldn’t have his truck removed from in front of the building. “Five minutes,” was all the guard gave him.

Logan quickly made his way to the section y/n and her friends always buy, and with no surprise, Max was all in y/n’s ear. The way she giggled, made Logan’s fists tightened.

“Alright, bub — Time to go home,” Logan spoke as he walked up to the section. “Logan! Have a drink with us,” Y/n offered as she raised her hand to give him her glass, but he didn’t take it.

“I don’t think he wants to drink from you, princess. Let him get his own glass,” Max spoke for Logan, and that was something he wouldn’t allow. Who does this man actually think he is?

Logan took y/n’s glass and chugged the whole thing, knowing he wouldn’t feel anything. All she drank were sweet drinks.

“Happy, princess?” Logan said, claiming her nickname back from Max. “That’s not fair, Lo. You’ve gotta drink more,” y/n said as she grabbed bottles to mix them in a glass.

“We can do that another time, bub, let’s get you home,” Logan said as he pushed past Max and softly grabbed y/n’s hand. Y/n whined as she got up to move past Max with him.

“Next week, same time?” Max asked, and right as y/n opened her mouth, Logan spoke for her. “I’m taking her out with Wade, so, no thank you,” Logan winked at the younger man before dragging y/n towards the exit with him.

“What are we gonna do next weekend?” Y/n asked, very excited, but anyone could tell she was drunk out of her mind. Logan knew once she got in his trust, she’d be passed out in his back seat, and that’s what she was.

“You can’t be drinkin’ like this, y/n. No Uber would actually take you home, seeing you like this,” Logan only told the truth as she whined in the back seat. She could barely understand the man.

“I’ve thought about what I should say to you, on my way here, but no matter what I’ll say, you won’t listen. You probably won’t even remember from how drunk you are,”

Logan pulled into a dark park that was only around the corner from their shared apartment. Wade wasn’t home, and y/n was vulnerable. Only one thing could cross Logan’s mind that he’s been wanting to do, but couldn’t. He never knew how, and when to, but tonight was the night.

“I’m hungry,” y/n struggled to say. Lovna could barely hear her. “I’ll make something at home, but right now, you’re in trouble,” Logan got out of the car as y/n repeatedly asked why.

“You see,” Logan opened the back doors to his truck and hopped in. “You would’ve taken the Uber tonight, right?” Logan asked as he moved y/n so her back was on the seat. “Mhmh,” y/n replied as her head spun.

“Yeah, so let’s see how you’d get through the night in an Uber,” Logan said as he began tugging at her dress, lighting it up until her skin touched his seat. “Huh? What?” Y/n asked, her voice seeming so far away.

“What would you do in this situation? If the Uber didn’t take you right home?” Logan asked as he hooked his fingers around her panties before ripping them clean off of her.

“Hey- Logan?” Y/n didn’t know what to do or say. What was even happening? Y/n couldn’t think straight, and the sight of that angered Logan, yet, turned him on. It’s not like he couldn’t get what he wanted if she was sober. He was stronger than her either way.

“And, this is why you can’t go out drunk. Look at you. You can’t even lift your head to look at me,” Logan said as he unbuckled his pants, feeling how hard his cock rubbed against his fabric. She looked sweeter than ever.

“Lo? What- happening?” Y/n wanted to know what was going on as Logan moved between her legs, always feeling close to the sight of her folds. She looked wet, smooth, and sweet. Just like he’d imagine.

“I’m not Logan, remember? I’m your Uber driver,” Logan said as he pushed at y/n’s entrance. At first, she didn’t feel too much to alarm her, until his tip slipped past her folds.

“Logan- Logan!” Y/n whined loudly as she lifted her arms to push at his chest. “Nah uh, you let me in,” Logan continued painting through her folds as her feet curled and mouth parted.

“N-No,” y/n felt her heart pound, getting scared of what was happening. She knew this was Logan, but she was too drunk tonight. There was too much pressure running through her body.

“Why? Tell me why, baby, and I might stop,” Logan lied. He just wanted to hear her speak. “T-Too big — I-I came breath,” y/n stuttered, and being the asshole Logan was, he lifted y/n’s legs over his shoulder to make her feel more trapped.

“Lo- please! I-I can’t,” y/n begged as her stomach twitched. “Oh, yeah? But, you can fuck Max, huh? You can fuck him at his place, but can’t give me a little attention at home?”

Y/n shook her head as she tried to comprehend what Logan was saying. Why was he bringing up Max? Why did he sound so angry? Why did he speed up his thrust the more she pushed at his lower stomach?

“G-Get up — Please,” y/n begged, feeling the need to pee, which meant she was close to an orgasm. That was too embarrassing for her. She couldn’t cum on Logan’s cock. This was inappropriate.

“Stop trying to push me away, y/n. It’s not gonna fucking work,” growled as he slapped y/n’a hands away. “No! N-No, I won’t,” y/n got fussy with the man as she fought his hands from pushing her away.

“W-We can’t do this!” Y/n tried shouting at Logan, but nothing about her in this situation made him think she’d get out of this. “I don’t care how embarrassed you are, y/n. You’re gonna fucking cum on me like you do to Max,”

Logan’s hands wrapped around y/n’s neck, making her gasp. “Logan, please — I-I’m gonna cum, and- I- Please,” y/n begged the man, but her eyes soon rolled to the back of her head.

“Ah huh,” Logan snapped his hips as his grip pulled her into his thrust. “G-Gonna cum,” y/n cried low as she gushed around the man. Her legs shook and nails dug right into Logan’s wrists.

“That’s it — It feels good, doesn’t it? Better than Max, right? C’mon, baby, tell me,” Logan slowed his strokes down, but made sure to dig deep in her cunt, causing her lower belly to ache.

“P-Please, please,” y/n tried holding it back, but she gushed again, spilling all over his seats with a loud cry. “Oh, yeah — That’s my, girl. Only for me,”

[worth-the-chaos]

Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 13

Chapter Summary: As you all attempt to connect the dots of the gruesome murders occurring around your small but sinister town, secrets start to spill when Steve realizes you’ve been keeping things from him.

Content Warning: violence, descriptive details of Chrissy’s murder, scary upside down shit, swearing (maybe that should have preceded the previous warning), arguing, guilt and trauma

Word Count: 7.2k

Author’s Note: Ahhh! I’m so excited to be getting this chapter out! Again, sorry it took longer than usual…college is kicking my ass and syllabus week is not syllabus week-ing (kind of bullshit if you ask me). Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter and I can’t wait to see what y’all think!

Message me if you want to be added to the taglist to get updates when the next chapter is posted…I’d highly recommend it if you want to follow the story since I don’t have a definite posting schedule :)

Series Masterlist | Chapter 12 | Next Part

***

Once you had caught up to the police cars, to your horror, you were met with the sight of a body covered in a white sheet in the middle of the road. Nancy was there talking to a police officer and when she had noticed the five of you there, she quickly finished her conversation with the officer.

Now, you were all sitting at a picnic table in the trailer park, debriefing over everything you knew thus far. Your head was spinning hearing it all over again. Even though you didn’t feel quite ready to handle it, you knew that you had to. You looked around at your friends sitting beside you at the table and thought about how you were all just victims of circumstance.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Nancy finally spoke up after Dustin’s explanation.

“It’s just a theory,” Dustin replied.

“No, Fred and Chrissy don’t make sense. I mean, why them?” She shook her head as she said it. You wondered how Nancy was feeling. Knowing how much she had struggled with Barb’s death, you wondered if Fred’s was impacting her similarly.

“Maybe they were just in the wrong place?” You suggested. “I mean, they were both at the game…and near the trailer park,” you added, trying to find any and all connections you could possibly make. I just want it to make sense, you thought, if it made sense that means we could fix it.

“We’re at the trailer park,” Steve spoke up hesitantly, looking at you with worry in his eyes as he grabbed for your hand under the table. “Uhh…should we maybe not…be here?”

“There is something about this place,” Nancy began, “Fred started acting weird the second we got here.”

“Weird as in…?” Robin pushed the question.

“Scared….upset,” Nancy looked you all in the eyes. You felt a chill go down your spine as you considered the fact that these kids—your peers—likely died in terror.

“Max said Chrissy was upset too,” Dustin reminded you all.

“Yeah, but not here. She was crying in the bathroom at school.”

“Serial killers stalk their prey before they strike, right? So maybe Fred and Chrissy saw this Vecna before?” Robin suggested. You were all grasping at straws at this point. There wasn’t anything to even go off of.

“I don’t know about you guys, but if I saw some freaky wizard monster, I would mention it to someone,” Steve spoke up. You felt a pang in your chest as you remembered all that you hadn’t been telling him.

“Maybe they did,” you added hesitantly. “I saw Chrissy leaving Ms. Kelley’s office. If you saw a monster, you…you wouldn’t go to the police. They’d never believe you.”

“But you might tell your shrink,” Robin finished your thought, sharing a knowing look with you. She had been keeping secrets for you. What Steve didn’t know was that when he had picked you up in the middle of the assembly, the two of you had run into Ms. Kelley before you could make it to the nurse’s office.

You were still crying after you and Robin had gone back inside after hanging up with Steve. You were no longer inconsolable, but tears were still streaming down your face. Robin tried to quickly rush you to the nurse’s office, her mind going a million miles a minute trying to think of a good excuse. Suddenly, you turned the corner and you jumped as you were met face to face with Ms. Kelley.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?” She asked you. Her eyes searched your face looking for an answer and you felt your heart leap to your throat. You were choked up, unable to speak, so she continued, attempting to be quiet to maintain confidentiality. “Is this about the mall fire again? Do you need to schedule another appointment with me?”

You avoided eye contact with Ms. Kelley, instead more focused on looking over her shoulder at Robin as her face twisted into a look of confusion and concern. You felt guilt pull at your chest from the look on her face and you redirected your gaze to the floor, suddenly way more concerned with the dirty laces of your tennis shoes.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Ms. Kelley. Thank you though for all your help this semester. I think I’m just having one of those days and-and with Jason talking about it at the assembly…it just caught me off guard is all,” your voice was small as you responded, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“What can I do to support you right now?” She further inquired. All you could think of was the panic that had settled in your ribcage and how you desperately needed to leave.

“I guess…I just don’t think I’m in a good frame of mind to be in class right now. I have a quiz in O’Donell’s and I don’t want my grade to tank because of all of this,” you choked out. Ms. Kelley nodded as she rubbed circles on your back to help calm you down.

“How about I go to the front office and get you all signed out and Robin can wait with you outside for your ride?” You nodded and she turned to Robin, “you can call her folks on the payphone for her, yeah?”

Robin stood dumbfounded for a second before shaking her head to clear her thoughts. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course!” She quickly replied, nodding aggressively, still a bit shocked by the whole encounter. Ms. Kelley thanked Robin and headed towards the main office, and your eyes were still fixed on the floor when Robin spoke up again.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, but I just want you to know that I’m here for you, okay?” She grabbed your shoulders and forced you to look her in the eye. “I’m not going to say I understand what you’re going through specifically, but I was there too, so if you ever need to talk to someone about it without shrouding it in lies about a fire, please just come to me.”

You stood there in silence for a little bit before you nodded. “You can’t tell Steve,” you warned, your voice serious. “Seriously, Robin. He can’t know about any of this.”

Robin looked like she wanted to protest but sighed before finally agreeing. “Fine. Let’s go wait for your dingus.”

Your breath caught in your throat as she had said it. You shot her a look that said “don’t even go there” as everyone was getting up to go. She rolled her eyes but dropped the subject. Suddenly you noticed Nancy was heading in a different direction as Steve started to follow after her.

“Woah, woah, Nance. Nance! Where are you going?” Steve called after her, concern lacing his voice. Your heart dropped a little at the nickname, knowing that was what he started calling her after they had started dating. You knew that he loved you, but you couldn’t help but feel less than when you remembered Steve had spent nearly a year dating the most perfect girl in Hawkins.

“Oh, there’s just something I wanna check on first.” She responded, though something in her voice made it clear that there was more than she was letting on.

“Something you maybe wanna share with the rest of us?” Dustin asked, exasperated, and you couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. We’re all in this together and it doesn’t make sense to be keeping things from each other, you thought, but it was followed by an immediate pang in your chest as you thought about the things you’d been keeping from your own boyfriend.

“I just don’t wanna waste anyone’s time.”

“Uh, are you serious? Flying solo with this Vecna guy on the loose? No, it’s too dangerous. You need someone to go with you. In fact, I’ll go,” you started heading towards her, but Steve caught you by your elbow and pulled you back, the change in momentum causing you to stumble.

“Oh, absolutely not! No way in fucking hell!” Steve yelled, and your jaw set at the anger in his voice. You opened your mouth to argue, but Robin spoke up before you could get a word out.

“This is stupid. I’ll go with Nancy and we’ll sort out whatever it is we need to sort out,” Robin started heading towards Nancy’s car and Nancy quickly followed.

“Be careful!” You yelled out after them and they didn’t really respond because who could honestly be careful with any of this shit anyway? None of you really knew what the hell was going on.

Steve rolled his eyes as you all got in the car. “Wipe your feet,” he warned Dustin, who, in true dumbass fashion, began wiping his dirty tennis shoes off on the floor mats in Steve’s BMW. “Not on the inside! On the outside idiot!” You couldn’t help but chuckle as Steve aggressively started the car. “Always the babysitter. Always the goddamn babysitter!”

“Hey, it could be worse…the kids behave sometimes,” you reminded Steve and he looked at you like you had three heads.

“Yeah, sure, if sometimes means on the corner of never and not at all, then sure. They’re perfectly behaved,” he grumbled and you couldn’t help but laugh. The laughter, however, didn’t last long as the reality of the situation started to settle in. You were going to have to talk to Ms. Kelley.

“Hey, so I think I’ll go talk to Ms. Kelley by myself, you know. I just…I’ve been talking to her recently because she’s been helping with some college application stuff, so I’ve got a good rapport with her and whatever,” you attempted to remain nonchalant, but you stumbled over your words a bit and Steve looked at you funny. You just stared pointedly at him and he shrugged, making his way to her house. Luckily with it being such a small town, it wasn’t too hard to figure out where she lived. He parked on the street and turned the car off, beginning to unbuckle.

“What are you doing?” You asked quickly.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going with you,” he responded, his brows furrowed in confusion and annoyance.

“No!” you put a hand on his shoulder, and he stopped in his tracks, his confusion significantly multiplying.

“This shit is fucked, y/n. I’m not letting you go by yourself, no way.”

“Well, then Max can go with me,” you offered, looking at the girl in the backseat who was equally confused. “I just think it’s a good idea for you to keep the car running…you know, in case something happens and we have to leave quickly.”

It was a dumb ass excuse, but Steve let it slide as he rolled his eyes and started the car again. Max opened up her mouth to ask you what the hell was going on as you made your way to the front door but you just gave a small shake of your head to shut down her potential questioning. You knocked on the door and Ms. Kelley finally answered, a look of confusion and concern painted across her features.

“Hey…I-I’m sorry to bother you over break but do you have a minute to talk?” You asked, trying to keep your voice even despite the anxiety settling in your chest.

“Um, yeah, of course. Of course,” she replied, stepping to the side to let the both of you in. You both sat down in her family room as she took a seat across from the two of you.

“So, what’s going on? What would you like to talk about?”

“I just brought Max here because with all of the murders going on…we’re just…I guess we’re just feeling a bit uneasy. It’s just making it difficult, especially since Max lives in the trailer park too where the body was discovered. It’s just hitting a little too close to home.” Max nodded, following your lead, though neither of you were being dishonest. You were both scared shitless.

“You both have experienced trauma and I know both of you don’t like to talk about it or deal with your emotions,” Ms. Kelley spoke up and you looked over to Max. She must have been seeing Ms. Kelley too. “But when you keep your feelings bottled up like that, it is very easy for something to set them off. So now, when it rains, it storms.”

“Yeah, I know,” Max replied, and your heart ached for the poor girl. You felt the ever present guilt tear at your chest as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat as she went on. “It’s just, I live right next door to where it happened. The police asked me a bunch of questions…and I guess I was just wondering if they talked to you? I know you were seeing Chrissy—“

Ms. Kelley cut her off, “you know I can’t talk to you about Chrissy.”

“I know but what if there was a serial killer loose in her neighborhood?” You chimed in. “Did Chrissy mention anything? Anything at all about who might have done this?”

“Girls, I really can’t discuss this, I’m sorry. You both wouldn’t want me talking about you to other students, right?”

“If I were dead and it would help catch the killer, then yeah, I most definitely would,” you shot back, beginning to get heated about the way this was getting you nowhere.

“Well, let’s leave that to the police then, okay?” Ms. Kelley responded, staying calm per usual despite your outburst.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you conceded, but another plan was already taking root in your mind. “Can we use the restroom on our way out?”

“Sure. Up the stairs to the left.” You grabbed Max’s wrist and gently but quickly guided her up into the kitchen, ignoring Ms. Kelley’s directions she had given you and grabbing keys labeled “office” out of a bowl on her counter.

“Come on,” you whispered, dragging her behind you as you both swiftly and silently made your way out of the house. You quickly got in the car before looking at Steve who was staring at you expectantly. “Drive.”

“What? Y/n, what did she say?”

“Nothing, just drive!” You emphasized and Steve abided as he took off. You would have to wait for the sun to go down, but as soon as it did, it was go time.

You were breaking in to Hawkins High.

***

You fumbled with the keys as you tried to unlock the doors of the school. You weren’t the type of student that did this shit. Sure, you weren’t exactly a goody-two-shoes, but breaking into the school? That was a bit too much, even for the likes of you guys.

You finally got the door opened, pushing into the dark hallway, flashlight illuminating the dark corridor as you made your way into the building. After making sure there was no one in sight, you waved the rest of the gang to follow you.

“This is dumb as hell,” Steve reminded you, “like I don’t know in what world you see this going okay…and—and if we get caught, you might as well kiss your chance of scholarships goodbye.”

“Well, some things are more important than college,” you grumbled, annoyed with your boyfriend. You guessed it was cute that he cared so much about your long term plans and aspirations—but still.

He scoffed and you rolled your eyes as you continued to make your way down the hall. Suddenly Dustin’s walkie talkie came to life, Robin’s voice echoing out into the empty hall. “Dustin, do you copy?”

“Yeah, I copy.”

“So, Nancy’s a genius. Vecna’s first victims date all the way back to 1959; her shot in the dark was a bullseye,” Robin sounded excited. Dustin was about to speak again when you took the walkie out of his hands, pressing down the button to speak.

“That is totally bonkers, but we can’t really talk right now,” you relayed quickly into the radio.

“Wait, what are you guys doing right now?”

“You know, just…breaking and entering in the school to retrieve confidential and extremely personal files,” you replied a bit sheepishly. Robin asked you to repeat yourself, but Steve grabbed the walkie talkie from you.

“Just get your asses over here, stat. We’ll explain everything,” Steve sounded irritated. He wasn’t super thrilled to be bringing two of his other senior friends into this who were likely to be expelled if the school found out about their actions.

You swiftly unlocked the door to Ms. Kelley’s office, immediately moving to unlock the file cabinet that contained all of her student files.

“It’s like a mini Watergate or something,” Dustin mumbled as you yanked the drawer open, flipping through the files. “Hawkinsgate!” Dustin emphasized, though you weren’t entirely paying attention, attempting to find Chrissy’s file.

“Didn’t those guys get caught?” Steve reminded the boy, his anxiety rising by the minute the longer you all were in the building.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, stopping at another hauntingly familiar name on a file.

“Did you find it?” Max asked, everyone’s attention now on you.

“Yeah, and not just Chrissy’s file…Fred was seeing Ms. Kelley too.”

You all looked between each other, the room becoming increasingly more tense as elements of what you knew were beginning to connect. You sat down as you flipped Chrissy’s file open. You were thumbing through the pages when you found a handwritten note with a list of symptoms. You felt your heart drop when you read them. “Um, can I see Fred’s file,” you whispered, not drawing your eyes away from the words on the page.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Steve replied, setting Fred’s file in front of you. You frantically flipped through the pages until you found a very similar handwritten note, detailing all the same ailments. You sat there, staring wide eyed at the page in front of you, hoping desperately that if you stared at it long enough that the words would change. They didn’t.

Dustin spoke up from behind you, “hey, y/n…you have a file in here too?” It was more of a question than a statement, and you broke out of your trance as Steve looked at you confused. When you didn’t say anything, he turned his attention to Dustin, his confusion turning to anger.

“Hey, that’s not funny. Stop bullshitting, man,” Steve warned, but he stopped in his tracks when Dustin held up the file folder, your name printed clear as day across the top. Why in the hell were you seeing Ms. Kelley? His mind raced as he tried not to think about all the other things you might not be telling him.

“Y/n? What is this? Y/n…y/n!” Steve began to interrogate you, holding up the file folder in front of you in a white knuckled grip. He was mad…that much you could tell, but his voice continued to sound farther and farther away. Instead, a different voice rang out, your name echoing into the room in a low and gravelly register that made your skin crawl. Even though you didn’t want to, you felt compelled to follow it.

You turned, getting up from your chair and exiting into the hallway. You heard a slight, rhythmic ticking before a chime rang out. A chill went down your spine as the noise caused your heart to sink in your chest. If anxiety had a sound, this was it.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat as you pushed on through the hallway. You were surprised no one else had followed you, but you pushed the thought aside as you turned the corner, you flashlight slightly shaking in your unsteady hands. The light caught the wall at the end of the tunnel, and you felt nauseous looking at the ornate grandfather clock sat nestled into the wall, fissures spreading outwards as the plaster cracked around its wooden frame.

The pendulum swung back and forth ominously…hypnotically as you continued towards it. Your mind screamed at you to stop, but your legs wouldn’t listen as they continued forward, bringing you closer and closer to the clock. It continued to tick evenly, which was almost more unsettling as you wondered what it was counting down to.

“Y/n,” the voice growled out again. It was all too much to bear, so you squeezed your eyes shut tight as you willed it all to be over. Instead, you were met with bright blue, yet sinister looking eyes staring back at you.

Suddenly, Steve’s voice filled your ears again and you felt someone shaking at your shoulders. “Y/n! Y/n, please wake up! Y/n!”

Your eyes shot open as you stared wide eyed into the familiar brown ones you would daydream about. Except, instead of having the familiar flecks of light as they twinkled when he talked to you, they were dark and full of worry, his brow furrowed as he stared deep into your eyes.

You gasped and leaned forward in your chair, collapsing into his arms. He immediately reacted to your movements, pulling you in close as his hands frantically moved across your back, as if trying to make sure you were still all there. You were breathing heavily and fighting back tears as you gripped Steve’s shirt in your hands.

The door suddenly burst open, causing you to shriek, and Steve swiftly pulled you up out of your chair, yanking you behind him as he gripped your hand in his. Your heart rate began to slow as you realized it was only Nancy and Robin…not whatever that thing was that you saw.

“What’s going on?” Robin asked hesitantly. You looked between Dustin, Max, and Steve as you tried to figure out what you could possibly say. After a moment, you finally settled on something, reluctantly opening your mouth to speak.

“I…I saw something.”

“What do you mean you saw something?” Dustin asked hesitantly. He had been scared out of his mind when he saw you go catatonic in the chair, unresponsive to Steve’s shouting. He had thought back to Eddie’s account of what happened to Chrissy as he sat frozen watching Steve try to wake you.

Your lips parted to try and explain, but you shook your head, moving around Steve and darting towards the door. He tried to stop you, but Robin put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back as everyone followed you out into the hall.

“It was right there….a grandfather clock. And—and it was so…real. When I got closer, suddenly I-I just…I woke up,” you explained, staring blankly at the wall in front of you. It sat there plain and empty, and it almost was more frightening that the clock you had seen was gone now.

“It was like she was in a trance or something. Exactly like what Eddie said happened to Chrissy,” Dustin elaborated. Steve’s stomach dropped and he suddenly felt nauseous. That couldn’t be it. He couldn’t live with himself if you…

He pushed the thought aside.

“That’s not even the bad part,” you interjected, turning to face your group of friends.

“What the fuck do you mean, y/n?” Steve asked, his voice dead serious. You didn’t answer him as you quickly made your way back to Ms. Kelley’s office, opening the files that had sent a shudder down your spine as you read them earlier.

“Fred and Chrissy, they both came to Ms. Kelley for help. Uh, they both were having headaches, nosebleeds…nightmares, trouble sleeping. And—and then they started seeing things. Bad things,” you started explaining. Steve thought back to all the times you had woken up gasping in the middle of the night, burying your head into his chest as he soothed you back to sleep. He thought about the tissues he had started keeping in his car and the jokes he made about your suddenly frequent nosebleeds. He thought about the headache you had just the night before. He felt more sick to his stomach than he had ever felt in his life as he followed the dots you had connected.

“These visions, they kept on getting worse and worse, until eventually…everything ended,” you whispered the last part, your voice beginning to fail you.

“Vecna’s curse,” Robin looked at you, fear in her eyes.

“Chrissy’s headache started a week ago. Fred’s six days ago,” you continued, “I’ve been having them for five days. I don’t know how long I have. All I know is that Fred and Chrissy both died within 24 hours of their first vision, and I just saw that goddamn clock, so…looks like I’m gonna die tomorrow.” A tear rolled down your cheek as you stumbled through your words, not ready for the inevitability that you were staring in the face.

“No, that’s not going to happen,” Steve spoke up, shaking his head aggressively. “I mean, it’s all just a coincidence, right? It has to be. It-it just has to be.” His voice began to falter as he looked between all of you, none of you sharing his optimism. No one responded, and he kicked the metallic front of the desk, muttering curse words under his breath. You went to stop him, but Robin held you back. He needed this. He needed the catharsis.

Each clang that rang out was like a knife to your chest, feeling the reverberation in your body as he kicked with all his might. He finally calmed down a bit, leaning over and panting as he placed two hands on the desk and stared as his feet while fuming.

Suddenly another clang rang out; however, this one couldn’t be attributed to Steve’s outburst. This one came from somewhere else in the building. You all jumped and Steve when saw the fear in your eyes, his jaw set and he spoke up.

“You guys stay here,” he muttered as he grabbed a floor lamp, yanking it aggressively to unplug it before heading out of the room. You all obviously didn’t listen, following close behind as you hesitantly made your way down the hall. Another clang sounded, this time closer, and you jumped, Robin grabbing your shoulders to steady you. Suddenly, you heard the distinctive sound of footsteps. Someone was coming for you.

The pace of them quickened as whatever was headed your direction began to break out into a clear and definite sprint. A figure suddenly turned the corner, and everyone broke out into a chorus of shrieks and screams as Steve geared up to swing the metal lamp.

“It’s me!” The figure screamed out and you realized it was only Lucas.

“What is wrong with you Sinclair?!” Steve shouted, his paternal side kicking in as he turned this instance into a lecture.

“I’m sorry,” Lucas panted, doubled over from running.

“I could’ve taken you out with this lamp!” Steve once again emphasized, shaking the lamp for effect.

“I’m sorry guys…I-I…just give me a second…I was biking…for eight miles. And-and…we’ve got…a code red,” he panted in response. You all looked at him expectantly before he continued. “Dustin, I’ve been with Jason, Patrick, and Andy and they’ve totally gone off the rails. They’re trying to capture Eddie and they think you know where he is. You’re in terrible danger!”

Your heart stopped in your chest, as you went to stand in front of Dustin wanting to further question Lucas. You needed to know every last damn detail if you were going to keep Dustin safe, and that was all you cared about right now. Dustin pushed back in front of you, glaring at you a bit before speaking up again. “That really sucks, but we have bigger problems than Jason right now,” he relayed to Lucas, looking back at you.

***

You had split up for the night…well kind of. Everyone else was spending the night at Nancy’s but Steve decided that the two of you needed time to talk so there you were, back in his BMW as you made your way to his house. You didn’t know what to say to him, and you both rode in silence, the air tense between you.

About halfway through the ride, he had removed one hand from the steering wheel, reaching blindly to grasp your hand in his. He needed reassurance that you were still here. He needed to find a way to believe that they would figure this out and you would still be here.

You went up to his room, quietly sitting on the bed as your eyes filled with tears again now that you were in an environment in which you could be more vulnerable. Steve stood at his dresser, getting a pair of pajama pants out as he broke the silence.

“How could you keep this from me, y/n?” He sounded hurt and you really couldn’t blame him. If the tables were turned you would have felt the same way, and you felt the need to justify your actions.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you whispered. You were looking down at your hands, though you couldn’t see them that well as your vision blurred from the unshed tears.

“That’s bullshit, and I think you know it,” Steve replied, his voice still small. “I…I just can’t believe you don’t trust me.”

“Of course I trust you Steve!” You cried out, your head snapping up to look at him.

“You sure have a funny way of showing it,” he scoffed. He knew he shouldn’t be angry with you. That he shouldn’t be taking it out on you. But he felt betrayed, feeling as though the relationship you’d built was shattering before his eyes as he contemplated the secrets you’d kept.

“You knew I was struggling. Don’t even try and act like you didn’t; this shouldn’t be a complete shock,” you defended yourself, anger leaking into your tone as well.

“Yeah, I knew you were struggling, but not like this! This is kind of a bit more than just struggling, y/n. Why didn’t you fucking tell me you were seeing Ms. Kelley?”

“Steve, that doesn’t even matter, I don’t get why you’re so caught up on that one little detail! It’s nothing compared to all the other shit going on right now!” You yelled, exasperated that, despite everything, he couldn’t just let it go.

“‘It doesn’t matter’? Are you fucking serious, y/n? Of course it fucking matters! You didn’t come to me! You never tell me things! We don’t really fucking talk about it anymore—all the shit we went through, I mean,” he sighed, running his hands through his hair as you stared up at him from your spot on his bed. He still stood by his dressed, and the distance between you suddenly felt uncrossable. In this moment, it felt like you were strangers to one another. He took a deep breath and continued, “I-I…we used to talk about it; work through it together. It seems like ever since last summer, we don’t even fucking acknowledge it.”

You stared up at him from across the room, and he thought he could break at the look in your eyes. You were hurting. You had been hurting, and all he wanted to do was try and make it better, but you wouldn’t let him.

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Steve,” your voice was even as you said it.

“Why didn’t you tell me about seeing Ms. Kelley?”

“Steve—“

“No, cut the bullshit, y/n. Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing Ms. Kelley? It’s a simple question; answer it,” he crossed his arms, refusing to move on until he got an adequate response. You were reaching your breaking point, and you didn’t think about the words before they exited your lips.

“Because you would have tried to help, and I don’t want your fucking help!” You blurted out. As soon as you saw the way that Steve’s face fell as you said it, you wished you could take it back. He took a deep breath and hung his head as he turned to leave the room. “Steve, wait….I-I didn’t mean it like that! Steve!”

You ran to him, grabbing at his wrist to try and get him to stay. He shook your hand away, turning around to look back at you. You saw the way tears were beginning to pool in his pretty brown eyes.

“Y/n…just….I just need you to leave me alone right now, okay?” He choked the words out. You were expecting him to be mad, to yell, to be angry. Instead his voice was small and sad, and you felt your heart jump to your throat. You didn’t listen, grabbing his wrist again as tears began to stream down your face. You decided that listening to him shout was easier to take than watching him cry knowing you caused it.

“Just yell at me! Steve, please. Just yell at me! Don’t leave, please baby!” You begged, pulling on his arm with each word that left your mouth. You were choking back sobs and slowly, he turned back towards you.

Something about him set off alarm bells in your head as you felt a shiver run down your spine.

“Why would I stay for you?” The words felt like a knife to your heart as your brows furrowed, confused at his words.

“What?” You whispered, your hands dropping his wrist as a lump formed in your throat.

“I said, why would I stay for you? You’re a dirty fucking liar and the most self-centered person I fucking know. It doesn’t matter what I need, or what anyone else needs. I mean, you put the kids in danger all the fucking time! When are you going to learn that this Upside Down bullshit isn’t what’s scary. You are,” he spat, taking a step towards you. Your heart was racing and you took a step back. He had never acted like this before. He had never told you that he thought these things about you.

“I-I…I don’t understand,” you cried, continuing to scramble backwards as he approached you. You’d never been afraid of him before either, but you couldn’t help the fear clawing at your chest as he continued forward, slowly yet with an aggression that had you trembling as you quickened your steps backwards to evade his reach. His room was only so small, and you were running out of room.

“Y/n,” Steve laughed. It sounded foreign to your ears; it wasn’t the melodic tone you’d come to love and seek out. Instead it was sinister, laced in condescension and anger. “Did you really think I care whether or not I’m with you or some other bitch? Do you really think anyone cares about you? You’re just some misfit freak, and nothing is ever going to change that.”

You took a step back, jumping in fright as your back hit the wall. You had run out of room, and suddenly Steve grabbed your wrists and pinned them to your sides. You squeezed your eyes shut tight and turned your head to the side, hoping that it would all just go away.

“Look at me,” Steve’s voice rang out again, but this time it was distorted, your eyes fluttered open as you cried out, being met with the same piercing blue eyes that you had seen flash across your vision before you woke up from your trance in the school earlier. You heard a chime ring out; the same chime that echoed from the clock, and you remembered the way the pendulum had swung menacingly from side to side.

“Let go of me!” You gasped out. You wished you hadn’t opened your eyes, as you took in the sight of the figure in front of you. His skin was decrepit, a slightly translucent sheen apparent as the dim moonlight filtering through the window reflected off its surface.

“You think you can atone for everything that you destroyed?” The figure asked you. Your heart was racing, feeling his clawed hands grip your wrists tighter as you tried to wriggle free. “All you’ve ever done is hurt people, put people in danger, ruin lives.”

You thought back over the past two and a half years, feeling the guilt rise in your throat as you thought about Dustin. You were supposed to protect him. You were supposed to make sure he was staying out of danger.

Instead, time and time again you led him right to it.

“Just let me go!” You shrieked. You couldn’t budge from his grasp, small cries escaping your lips in defeat as you continued your desperate and futile attempts to break free.

“Your time is almost up, y/n,” his voice was a low growl as he leaned in, saying it quietly into your ear. Goosebumps erupted over your whole body as you squeezed your eyes shut again.

“Y/n! Please! Y/n!” Another voice suddenly filled your ears. It sounded far away at first, but it became clearer and you felt someone shaking your shoulders as your eyes snapped open to meet the familiar brown ones you knew and loved. Tears were streaming down Steve’s face and when he realized you finally come to, he pulled you in, crushing you in the tightest hug you’d ever received.

You began to break down, sobs racking your frame as you grabbed onto your boyfriend. “I don’t know what’s real anymore,” you choked out between sobs, your tears forming a wet spot on his shirt as you cried into his shoulder.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay. I’m here, baby, I’m real,” he tried to console you, but he was still a mess himself. He thought back over what he just witnessed and he felt guilt settle in his chest.

He had just told you that he needed a second to be alone. He needed time to clear his thoughts because he didn’t want to say anything in the heat of the moment that he would regret later. You had clung to his arm, protesting and trying to get him to stay when all of the sudden you retreated into yourself, going catatonic as your eyes rolled in the back of your head. He felt his heart sink halfway to hell when you wouldn’t respond. Your eyes were moving rapidly back and forth underneath your eyelids and regardless of what he did, you wouldn’t wake up. All he could think about was what Eddie had said about Chrissy…the way she levitated and her bones began to snap and how her eyes got pulled back into her skull.

He couldn’t watch that happen to you.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” he whispered into your ear as he swayed with you from side to side. You could feel him still trembling and you thought back to what the figure—what Vecna, had said. All you ever brought on was hurt and destruction and chaos.

“I’m sorry!” You cried out, continuing to sob. At this, Steve immediately pulled away, looking at you quizzically.

“Why are you apologizing? Please don’t apologize, baby,” he begged.

“It’s just…I-I-I should’ve told you I was going to see Ms. Kelley! I was just afraid be-because I didn’t want you…to-to try and fix it because I knew that-that you would worry, and…and I didn’t want to put you through that stress,” you began, hiccuping through your words as you continued to cry. “Steve, I-I…I don’t think I have much time. I don’t want to waste what little we might have left being angry at each other, so can you please forgive me?”

Steve ignored your plea for forgiveness, instead focusing on the other aspect of your statement. “What do you mean you don’t have much time?” He asked hesitantly, afraid of what your answer would be.

“I saw Vecna,” you whispered, “he told me my time is almost up.”

“I’m not going to let him take you from me, y/n. I’m just not,” he shook his head aggressively as he stared at you wide eyed.

“Steve, this is exactly why I didn’t tell you—“ you began but he cut you off.

“Y/n, I don’t care that you don’t want me to worry about you; I’m going to regardless of whether you tell me to or not, and if you think that I’m going to let some Upside Down, inter dimensional, creepy ass motherfucker take you away from us, you are dead wrong,” he started, getting more and more emphatic and angry as he spoke. When he continued, his voice was softer. “I’m not letting anyone hurt my girl again, okay? We’re all going to figure this out and everything is going to be okay. We’re going to find Vecna and kill his ass, and everything is going to be okay…you are going to be okay.”

It sounded like he was trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince you. You put your hands on the side of his face, trying to get him to settle, your heart hurting at his frantic speaking, a stark contrast to his usual more calm demeanor.

“Steve, but what if it’s not?” You asked, your voice a whisper.

“It has to be,” he whispered back. You could see the tears beginning to well in his eyes again, and you placed a soft kiss to his lips. He reciprocated, deepening the kiss as his hand went to the nape of your neck. He kissed you like his life depended on it; like he would never get to kiss you again as he pushed you towards his bed, laying you down gently.

His lips moved across your jawline as he kissed your soft skin, placing gentle but fervent kisses on the spot just below your ear. His lips trailed down your neck as he listened to you breathe. You were whispering his name and he took a second to take it all in.

Here he was, with the love of his life, who was presumably about to die at any given moment. Yet you were still sitting like a masterpiece on his sheets, his name dripping from your lips like honey. You were everything he had ever wanted and he cursed himself for not doing a better job at protecting you.

“Steve?” You whispered breathily, putting a hand on his chest to stop him. He propped himself up better, looking down at you, and he felt his heart skip as he looked into your lust filled eyes.

“What is it baby?”

“I’m ready,” you whispered. Understanding what you meant, he leaned down and placed the sweetest and most gentle kiss to your lips.

Tomorrow wasn’t certain, so tonight, Steve was going to love you as if there was no tomorrow, making sure you knew exactly just how much you meant to him.

While you spent the night tangled up in Steve’s bedsheets as he placed hot kisses across every inch of your body, for the first time in a while, you felt at ease. You allowed yourself to revel in the bliss of that moment because, come tomorrow morning, you were going to have to start facing the reality of the situation.

And the reality of a sudden and gruesome death was a hard pill to swallow.

***

a/n: anyway, so shit’s gettin’ real. Reblog if you want to give me a free dose of serotonin while I’m muddling through the dumpster fire that is college :)

taglist:

@season4steve @sassyheroneckgiant @tangledinthegreatxscape @maeve-wileyy @palachannie @chaerfull @usaguisenpaisblog @emilieluckwood @sabrinadelreyy @mochminnie @xprloki @kitdjarin1 @kissmxcheek @daemonskitty @bethsvrse @aheadfullofsteverogers @quinnsadilla @chervbs

[ladykailitha]

WIP Wednesday Game

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames or specific AUs your WIPs; not titles, filenames (eg werewolf AU, unnamed mafia omegaverse, or Steve's Rizz vs Eddie's Zero Filter.)

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write at least 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

My only problem is that I tend to file name what the title is so I can find it easier, so...here’s what they were called before I titled them.

“File” Names

Final Season 2 AU Story (first story here, second one here)

Sugar!Baby

Nanny

Himbo Witch

Snippet

[Dustin] went to go leap over the counter when Steve grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

“Oh hell no,” Steve snapped. “One I just sorted those tapes and I’m not doing it again, and two you don’t need to hack shit, because I know where he is without all the techno bullshit.”

“Techno is a genre a music,” Max supplied unhelpfully.

“And it’s not bullshit if it helps us find him!” Dustin growled.

“Did you even listen to the rest of Steve said?” Robin asked, knocking his hat off his head. “He knows where Eddie is.”

Dustin blinked at Steve for a moment. “How would you know that?”

Steve rolled his head and tilted his head back. “Because I was on the actual fucking walkie talkies you make us carry around everywhere we go and Eddie radioed the party last night. AND I was the only one who answered!”

Dustin and Max blinked at Steve’s outburst, shocked that he would yell at them. But with Eddie missing and a girl dead, it was forgivable.

“So where is he,” Dustin groused, picking up his hat and slamming it down on his head, “if you’re so smart?”

“Reefer Rick’s boathouse on Lover’s Lake?” Steve suggested with a half shrug.

~

A note about the final story in the Steve gets adopted by Hellfire and becomes a theatre nerd trilogy: it will not be as long as the others, it will focus on a little of season four, and then the aftermath. I don't imagine it will be more than 10k words. I wanted to wrap it up and not leave it dangling, but I'm not loving the universe anymore.

When I wrote the first one "Can Anybody See Me?" there weren't that many season 2 AUs where Hellfire adopted Steve after season 2. Now there are...maybe not hundreds, but at least dozens of them. I also never intended to go further than where I ended the first one, but there was demand for a sequel and I wrote it.

To say it wasn't as well received as the first would be an understatement. It did 1/3 the numbers of the original and I struggled with the desire to want to finish it at all. But after talking to my wonderful discord peeps, I decided to do a short, almost epilogue so that it would be done. And before season 5 comes out.

So that's the goal, get it done and posted before season 5.

It's that great and wonderful time of the week again! WIP Wednesday!

The game runs from 8am-11pm EST.

Send in as many asks as you want as often as you want.

[bifuriouswaterbender]

WIP Wednesday

I'm home all day today, so I'm excited to get some writing done!

As always, credit to @kedreeva

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request! Also, if you send me an ask, I'll look on your page to see if you'd like one back. This works best when we help each other!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

Filenames

Reverse Big Bang (Secret Project & Top Priority)

Chrissy Woke Up Ch 8 [1-7]

He's All That Ch 9 [1-8]

Merman Eddie

Snippet: I have exclusively written on my Reverse Big Bang fic this week, so I had to write this from Crissy Woke Up specifically for this post. Not bad motivation to keep working on ongoing projects while I have one to focus on specifically.

“Bye Max,” Steve said softly as he looked toward the bed. “I’ll be back soon.”

Chrissy stayed silent as the two of them left the hospital room. Even when they stepped into the elevator and the doors closed behind them, Chrissy and Steve said nothing. That silence persisted as they walked out the front doors and Steve led the way to his car.

Once the door shut behind her, though, Chrissy sighed. “Where are we actually going?” she asked.

Steve raised his brows, shoulders lifting into a shrug. “I probably should go home and shower.”

Chrissy glanced toward his attire, feeling a tinge of embarrassment that she was just now realizing he’d dressed in a mish-mash of things that he’d probably borrowed at the hospital.

“I was thinking,” Steve continued, “that we could stop at yours so you could pick up clothes and whatever you need to shower. Maybe even pack a bag if you’d like to get away from home for a while. That way I haven’t technically lied to your mother, but also you are nowhere to be found when she gets home.”

Her mouth fell open. “You’ve played this game before.”

Steve snorted. “Too many times to count. But that sound good to you?”

“Yeah,” Chrissy said and watched as he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “Would you mind if I wrote her a note that I was with you? I’m sure she’ll start talk, but—”

“She won’t be looking for you as soon,” Steve finished for her. “As you said, not my first rodeo.”

[scenetocause]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers 💫

i got tagged by @verycoolwearsleather and now i have to pretend i have a writing process haha

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

it says 52 but there's actually a lot more due to orphaning/anon-ing things.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

345,519 but again i'm not sure how much tha's counting

3. What fandoms do you write for?

gross f1 twinks

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

just telling it like it is (lando/maxv)

pretty sure this is just cus it's the oldest fic i have since the account reboot because it absolutely does not merit being anywhere near the top 10 lol it's just a 5+1 about other mando being obvious (it's anon'd cus i got bored of a load of my fics and didn't want them as part of the emptyhalf canon anymore)

every colour illuminates (george/lando)

for something i started writing offhand cus some of my friends were saying there should be more trans men in f1 fic, this one sure grew legs. i'm still insanely moved by the comments it gets and the way it seemed to resonate with people. i'm not sure i can really convey how dumb i actually am in a way that'd make people believe me but i really did just write this on vibes and it's one of the things i can say i'm genuinely glad i did. idk, it's just queer porn really but maybe we need more of that.

(i) just wanna get a little bit closer (mando)

you know i don't even think this is close to my best mando fic (personal choice is no plans of staying on) so there's no accounting for taste and you absolutely should practice death of the author or whatever. anyway, it's mando cohabitation era boundary breakdown stuff where they fuck and then go on a date about it.

shoreline i see when i'm off course (loscar, mando)

people rly are thirsty for a/b/o huh. how'd this little fic get into the top five so quickly?

the usual, upside down (alex/george/lando)

literally THEE most head empty omegaverse threesome fic in history y'all are horny as fuck. it literally only got written bc george did some dumb insta post where he called lando and alex his mates and also then was walking around looking horny af in the black fireproofs and mask when he stood in for lewis. there is NO nutritional content here even by the fast food standards of emptyhalf fic.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i uh. i should. i would like to but my brain is quite severely broken. i do read them all and i bookmark a lot in open tabs to come back to and reply to because they mean a lot but then i have 6000 tabs open and no executive function.

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

we don't do that here. i guess maybe if you dig into the far distant past then it was probably i'm not just a fuck up, i'm the fuck up you love which is 18k words of jev not really getting over daniel that ends on a sort of optimistically blasted-open note.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

most of them are happy but probably actually pick me up, no headlights where george and max end up with their weird little family worked out and the kids are doing well, y'know

8. Do you get hate on fics?

no i don't think enough people read them to beef me lol

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

hahahaha oh yea. i like to think i write something along the lines of realistic queer sex, with the way that means it's mostly kind of funny and sometimes awakward and isn't elegant or arch or even particularly romantic except that you're getting to do it with the person you do it with. writing lando and oscar being straight with each other, even if it's in a cringe fail way, made me realise i really do not write straight people and i feel a bit like one of those painfully hetero actors who does a gay kissing scene and talks about how they had to get themselves in the mindset by watching the l word or whatever haha. what do straight people do? who are they?

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

i was gonna say no but then i remembered i wrote logan and oscar going ghosthunting and being kinda pass-agg horny about it because. idk? logan gave me ryan bergara vibes.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i think someone reposted some of mine awhile ago and it got dealt with before i really knew anything about it idk

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i don't know tbh. someone made a podfic of one of my fics a way back.

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

yeah i used to do that quite a lot but now. i am a lone wolf. (too perverse for other people's minds)

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

jenson/lewis but society has never been ready for this

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

i don't. i don't wanna let doubt enter into it but my daniel goes to fe fic is up against a number of the dark souls boss level demons in my own brain 😔

16. What are your writing strengths?

uh. i uh. i can write on my phone? i have a relaxed attitude to whether what i write is any good at all? i don't actually think i really have any.

people quite often say i have a lot of emotional intelligence in my fics which is very funny to me because i am a deeply unemotionally intelligent person so idk how that's happened really.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

look we could be here all day.

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

i guess it has never bothered me so long as the reader could be reasonably expected to work out the meaning from the context.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

cardcaptor sakura (i was 14)

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

hmmm. in terms of thinking it's like, good or whatever it's probably don't say no or you'll have to go, the fucked up valtteri/george mutual seat envy/horror of being compared to lewis hamilton thing. or really, it's an old spy au fic called ten seconds before sunrise that i deleted ages ago so: sorry about that.

but favourite is probably some dumb mando shit or i have extreme recency bias so maybe logan and oscar go ghosthunting or whatever. oh wait, no, it's genders maxy the how-to-find-your-identity-post-racing-in-your-pussy treatise that was born of crack but ended up. no, it's still crack. anyway, classic emptyhalf shit tbh.

[anyways-wonderwall]

Eurovision Special!

I would just like to start this by saying woah. I have been keeping up with Eurovision for the past 7 years and have written about the last four, and this is easily the biggest shitshow I have ever seen. Never before has my Twitter been solely about Eurovision, and never have I seen Americans actually kinda care.

Just to make it clear from the beginning, Israel should not have been in this competition and should never be invited back after all they did this year, although we all know that since they own Moroccan Oil they will never face any consequences. Not only that but their song this year sucked! It got the lowest rating from me this year, even putting controversial stuff aside.

Anyways, it is time for the annual tradition of me telling you what my five favorite songs were and what I thought of the entries this year. If you've read any of my other Eurovision posts (I've reviewed 2021, 2022, and 2023), you'll know that I go through and grade all of these songs on a spreadsheet through a very objective rigorous process. I grade on five categories (which are eerily similar to what the jury does): Singer, Song, Catchiness, Performance, and the bonus points category Diversity. The max score is technically a 40, but that last category can and has put some songs over the edge. Oh and this ranking is based on how much I like the song, so the order may not fully match the scores.

All the drama aside, this was one of the best years song-wise for Eurovision (this was definitely the hardest its been to rank the songs ever). I think countries are starting to understand that being quirky pays off, so now we're getting real song diversity and really amazing performances. Also, Eastern Europe really gave it their all this year and I cannot thank them enough. (Oh and all of these songs, minus Croatia, are NOT IN ENGLISH!! Truly an incredible year)

5. Netherlands - Europapa by Joost Klein

Score: 35/40

Notes: good energy song itself is meh

Final Ranking: uhhhhhh, that's a long story

Look I get it, this song truly embodies Eurovision in every way. It's in Dutch, one of the silliest languages out there, he's out there wearing crazy outfits and has a silly haircut, its a euro-techno hit, he has the emotional angle since it was dedicated to his parents; this is one of the most perfect Eurovision songs to enter. All that aside though, its not that interesting or awesome as a song. The main riff is incredibly catchy and the production choices with the piano are pretty cool, but it just feels like a rip off of the silliness of last year's "Cha Cha Cha," down to ending in a boring techno breakdown. I think this song is a clear response to that (down to the shoulder pads) but it still is pretty good and did a great job making this year even crazier than anyone thought possible.

4. Greece - ZARI by Marina Satti

Score: 33/40

Notes: I've never been more flummoxed

Final Ranking: 11th

This song on the other hand, is one of the most interesting things I have ever heard. Marina Satti as an artist and this song has been occupying my thoughts nonstop, because what the hell is happening here. It's like Rosalina-style cumbia got lost in the East Mediterranean and the music video leaves me even more confused. The crazy jumps from Arab traditional flute sounds to strings to a cumbia baseline to a men's choir, to a melodramatic echoey bridge? I took a whole class on writing about music and I can't find the words to describe this one. And all of her media around it uses 2005 word art fonts and clip art? And she is serious about everything the entire time. Everything she does is hilarious and off the wall, yet she continues the persona of a pop diva. I seriously cannot get enough of her.

just want to point out that this is one of her real album covers. The word icon doesn't cover it.

3. Armenia - Jako by LADAVINA

Score: 41/40

Notes: Trumpet player hot or not

Final Ranking: 8th

Speaking of icons, look at these two! I really think this year was countries really embracing their native genres, whether that be Eurodance, Mediterranean Cumbia, Eastern European Emo, or Armenian folk music. This song just truly embodies fun. The lively beat, the screaming and yipping, a crowd cheering, the wailing trumpet, the random instruments whispering in the background. Listening to this makes you feel like you are a part of the coolest party ever, with flute and ukulele solos, and freedom to yell as loud as you want. I cannot get enough of this song and the energy these two bring to it, and I am so glad Armenia picked an absolute banger to represent them this year.

2. Estonia - (nendest) narkootikumidest ei tea me (küll) midagi by 5MIINUST x Puuluup

Score: 44/40

Notes: EASTERN EUROPE IS BACK BABEY

Final Ranking: 20th

This song is just awesome, in every way. You have this weird Estonian string thing, voices so low that it sounds like throat singing, all mixed with that kind of techno that feels so intrinsically Eastern European. The music video has them driving around a Soviet-style building complex just messing around in abandoned warehouses and parking lots. This is what I'm talking about when I say that countries are going back to their roots and not just trying to send what they think is the most marketable. I see this as a sequel to Moldova's entry last year, which involved a Eurovision veteran with some new faces, mixing old and new to make a masterpiece that has so much personality.

Croatia - Rim Tim Tagi Dim by Baby Lasagna

Score: 43/40

Notes: Meow cat, please meow back

Final ranking: 2nd!

Look at this guy, he looks like someone who you would love to bring home to your parents and would like cats. He wasn't supposed to compete for Croatia this year and was put in last minute and I'm so glad because my life would have been so much darker without this banger in it. It's a classic emo anthem about leaving your farm-filled hometown to go to the big scary city, but he doesn't take himself too seriously with a name like "Baby Lasagna" and a chorus of nonsense words. The music videos as sped up farmers dancing and a cat that looks exactly like mine (both one-eyed and orange), and is a perfect mix of vulnerable and silly. This really seems like someone who was genuinely making something fun and expressing himself, and just happened to almost win Eurovision in the process.

Here's to hoping Eurovision actually happens next year after everything that went down, and if you're curious my least favorite songs were the offensively boring entries from Israel and Albania.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

LMAOAAOA OH WAIT RLLY?? I’ve never used ibisPaint for anything more than needing to quickly get a diagram out so I wasn’t aware…if you actually want to though you could try using the airbrush on like max radius and using that to make the gradient effect plus the smudge? I don’t typically use it so I might not be grasping all the mechanics or kinks LOL but SAME I always forget he’s French LMAOOOOO

IM CRYING THE DONKEY SUIT wait imagine y/n (because otoya isn’t witty enough to say this) just is like “actually you didn’t even need the suit since you’re already an ass” LMAFOAOAD anyways I wonder how the model in the photo feels about having to wear this LORD FARQUAD UAHAHSHSHA it’s reversed instead of the giant ass chin it’s the giant ass hair LOL he definitely would NOT accept having to look up when talking to otoya (also same he could be Mike wazowski and I wouldn’t care)

HEHE TYYY WE DID!!! Lowk really nice after all the recent grass touching work I had to do and yess no lore development here LMAO tbh I don’t think I’ve ever been in any super crazy situations before I feel like the canon events don’t cross paths with me LOLLL

The Barou glowup is INSANE and NEEDED his visuals before were a bit rough oops also nagi fs!!!! I love the way his eyes are drawn now and I think they’d be really also found a stabilized style for his hair too?? I love that little wavy middle strand that goes across his nose it’s so cute

LMAOO wingman chigiri who actually knows what he’s doing but he’s late to literally every single hangout or plan they schedule and has a really bad sense of being on time which makes ever set up unnecessarily difficult (based off pwc and I forgot but floating tidbits of him taking too long to dry his hair or get ready LMAO)

YESSS to date you’re the one I trust above all else to execute any ideas I have well hehe I think my only other request was to Jeirin for the 300 event? I think it was more along the lines of just general thoughts as opposed to an actual like reader fic or anything though so amongst actual fic requests you’re my one and only!! You know your writing is insane when you’ve broken me out of my lurker stage LOL I had contemplated sending stuff like once or twice before but backtracked and never ended up doing it soooo

AHAHDSJSH yeah er Karasu content is a little dry but I think it’s still more alive than it was before…but omg Mira back in action?? Don’t push yourself too hard though LOL that’s fr kinda my philosophy though (not for writing oops lol) but if like if I wanted a really specific trinket or item I’d just go make it myself (also results in a lot of ideas and plans that don’t get executed though so uhhh don’t follow my example LMAOO) but yeahhh ATP there’s just multiple tiers of degrees of swerving LOL

This is like those behind the scenes documentaries of like “the making of” the original Otoya plan is insane but I’m glad it got to where it is now!! I agree I think the aegislash arc wouldn’t be the same if it were otoya instead of nagi LOL and I think the underground smuggling ring arc would also feel different if Otoya was the lead

FIVE MONTHS time is a scary construct….I was not ready to be slapped by that fact omg….but hmmm well if tumblrs anything like other social media a big part of it probably just ends up being the algorithm based off the time of day you post plus consistency (I remember influencers would make so many “tutorials” on how to get big and they’d always mention literally scheduling out posts like that’s insane) but FR!! I lowk still get kinda confused by the notes system here but sometimes I feel like the short blurb fics get more notes traction because they are geared more towards the crowds that would consume that content (likewattpadreaderserm) so it’s maybe like also the demographic that causes it?? But honestly that’s also sm healthier of a mindset to keep it an actually enjoyable hobby and plus I’m here to say your work is actually fire I’m really picky with the stuff I read especially with like flow and grammar and eloquence (despite my yapping sessions being so disorganized SHDGSHS) so yeah saving your energy for things you actually enjoy is a much better route LOL

FRRRR im crying wait that’s true we do just get the extra emo from rin SHDHS imagine seeing him from Shidous pov LMAO

Careless whisper taken for granted because of the memes LOLLL

- Karasu anon

HAHA for my recoloring ngl i just import the panel, extract the line art, and then use the filter tool to change the color w the hex code i want that matches the divide i’ve made HAHA there’s def some stuff with overlays i could mess around with to see if i could get gradients to work though hmm much to consider

LMAOOO y/n beefing with karasu to hide that she’s actually madly attracted to him instead of her ACTUAL boyfriend otoya i bet she was secretly praying for him to be puss in boots because he’d look hot asf in that fit SKJHFSKJDH anyways yeah i guess the models are making their bag so they can’t be too mad about it?? but it’s funny to imagine someone posing for those pics (yukimiya core asf)

YAYYYY SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED YOURSELF HEHE and yesss omg it was so nice none of my professors assigned any homework that weekend so i had nothing to stress about no tests to study for literally just hanging out with my friends and partying and developing the lore HAHA omg pls i feel like i’m just a canon event magnet or smth but luckily i’m entering my winter hibernation era when i become irrelevant because i refuse to interact with people i’m not friends with already so we are free from canon events until the spring (i hope)

yeahhh things were rough for barou in the early days but tbh as soon as second selection came and he joined isagi’s team his glow up happened and it’s only been up from there…he looks INSANELY good in the nel and u20 game like the panels are SO HYPE AHHH i love him so much tbh i hope we can get back to him and isagi being the main rivals of the series GET RIN OUTTA HERE barousagi rivalry >>>> rinsagi rivalry sorry not sorry barou and isagi actually feel like healthy and real rivals that push each other to be better rin and isagi is just like “my brother thinks you don’t suck so i want to kill you and then myself” “ok” LMAOOOO anyways nagi’s design has definitely stabilized a lot!! agreed his little strand is so cute it makes his hair look even fluffier and softer somehow (also manshine nagi…sigh…so gorgeous)

SKDJFHS actually wait technically we do get wingman chigiri in the oaeu with nagi because aiku is actually nagi’s OPP in that one HAHAHA so wingman chigiri is already canon kinda like how wingman hiori is technically canon in fwtkac?? if you can consider whatever tf he was doing “wingmanning” (aiku and niko would be disappointed but whatever works ig)

HAHAH SO HONORED TO HAVE BROKEN YOU OUT OF YOUR LURKER STAGE EVEN SOMEWHAT in return you finally allowed me to write for karasu because before fwtkac i just knew i wanted to write him but i had no idea how so it was actually perfect truly a meeting of the minds…karasu anon x mira chemical reaction can never be beaten fr

pls that’s fr my philosophy too and that’s why i have a bazillion works in progress honestly i don’t mind so much for myself personally but sometimes i feel bad for the people that read my stuff and then are like wtf why hasn’t this updated in months BROOO IDK I JUST DON’T FEEL LIKE IT but then sometimes i get back on the grind randomly?? like pomegranate ink was on hiatus for almost a year and then randomly one day i just started writing for it again and then in a month i wrote over 100k words and finished the entire thing 😭 it’s especially bad with blue lock though because like not to be #hater but there are just not very many fics out there (i don’t read fics very often but every now and again i’ll take a peek through the tags) let alone really long or involved ones LET ALONE ones for characters i actually LIKE (forget about karasu and yukimiya for a second…why is there nothing for BAROU??? NAGI????? like these are some of the most popular characters why does kaiser have more fics than them) so i really do end up doing it myself

PLS behind the scenes of pursuit fr SKFSKJD here’s another behind the scenes fact the original version (aka the otoya version) was called “inheritance” and instead of sibling bonds it was meant to be more about nature vs nurture (otoya the exile ending up to be a kind person compared to his crueler clan, karasu and yayoi being opposites, barou and reader being opposites, etc etc) so the themes definitely changed a lot there 😭 hmm what else was there from the original version that i can think of…uhhh tullia and karasu like i mentioned LMAOOO lowkey i can kinda see them together but her and reo are better so not mad about that plus with reader not getting with otoya it doesn’t make as much sense for tullia to end up w karasu yk HAHA but agreed i think nagi is a much better route to take (NOT biased) he fits reader’s personality more and the arcs have a different feel to them with him as the love interest…nagi just truly is that guy he showed up in the story as a side character, said “nuh uh”, and then shoved his way into being the main lead which somehow actually improved the work?? insane

FIVE MONTHS IS SOOO CRAZY like almost half a year of us talking is wild to me!! but i wouldn’t have it any other way hehe…yeah i think it has to do with tags and post time and other stuff LMAO i don’t even care enough to look into it SDKFH i think part of it too is that those short blurb mega posts tag like fifty characters so they come up in a LOT of searches meanwhile i literally only tag my posts for my own organization so i don’t use too many tags or anything like that!! but agreed also the blurb mega posts definitely cater towards a certain crowd omg somewhat related but i saw a post that said smaus are killing fics the way velocity edits killed editing and idk why but it made me laugh SO hard 😭 don’t get me wrong i love a good smau but i fear the post was a bit too accurate

THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYINGGG like we never get to see sae just chilling w the bros (not that he really has any) i bet he’s probably a decent enough guy when he’s not being shown through rin’s #emo #brocken perspective SKHFJS omg sae through shidou’s perspective would truly be something though ngl i bet careless whisper would be playing somehow

[90sloverwithinsomnia]

Vol 1 - Battle of the Boy Bands - Chapter 5/23

This is one of many archived fanfics featuring 1st and 2nd generation K-pop acts that I've come across recently. It's all in good fun, and maybe a bit cringeworthy! Just to clarify, I don't post fanfics, so I hope to the people that post and read K-pop fanfics makes sense. Credits go out to the original creator (hgiel) Anrui, Kyorei, and Jacqui.

*Note: Nothing in their post will change (unless necessary), other than being posted here, and the (Link) will be provided to the page that i found it on.

Characters:

Choi Dongwook (Se7en), Wheesung, Moon Heejoon, Ahn Chilhyun (Kangta), Jae Joong, Yun Ho, Mickey, Max, Xia, Young One, Woo Hyun, UBin, Dong Hwa, Jumin

Chapter 5:

The next morning the members of K-pop started to stir in their separate rooms when the door bell started to sing a rendition of "Memories Scent."

"How...? Never mind, I don't care." Woo Hyun opened the door and Se7en stood cheerily before them with two camera men behind him.

"What the hell? I thought it was old McDonald?" Woohyun said to no one as he finally stumbled out of bed into the front room. Jumin was coming out of his room in the same sleepy state.

"I changed the tune last night," Jumin said rubbing sleep from his eyes as they both went to the front door.

"Good mo... Hey! Wheres Dong Bong Shin Gi?"

"We had a little eviction last night." Young One said coming into the room wearing only his boxers. He saw the camera and stuck a muscular pose then addressed Seven again. "What the hell was this set up about anyway? You said there would be no electricity! Ding Bang... whatever, the fruity ones, got the Ritz and we were stuck in up in a tree with no toilet!"

"Yeah, what the hell?" Woo Hyun asked as seven pushed passed them and came into the lovely front room. Jumin smiled and flashed the cameras a peace sign.

"There wasn't supposed to be electricity..." Seven mumbled and everyone followed him into the kitchen. The kitchen window was part way open and an extension cord lay on the counter with a ton of circuit protectors which supplied the whole cabin with electricity.

"Where did this come from?" Seven leaned out the window. "This is coming from my place!!! No wonder the lights kept going out! DAMN!"

"You mean they cheated?" Jumin asked.

"I don't know how they could have done this last night.."

"I bet Junta did it the other night when they were shacked up in here." Woo Hyun said. "You know we didn't get dinner last night? Hee Jun ate it all before we even got here!" Woo Hyun ratted.

Seven rubbed a temple. "This is too much. Okay, I'll try to fix all of this, I promise."

Just then Ubin walked in with his hair done up in curlers. "AIEE! Why didn't you tell me the camera men were here already?" He screamed running back to his room in tears as one of the camera men hurried after him.

"You have a girl in your group?" Seven asked surprised.

***

"Hello?" Seven called as he started to climb into the tree house. Seven stopped and stared and took in the scene. UKnow and Hero were in one futon cuddling while Mickey and Xiah were doing the same close by. Max was sleeping across three futons, two of them he had claimed as his own and the third was Mickey and Xiah's where his feet rested close to their heads. Xiah was actually snuggling Max's left foot. A strange girl was snoring in the corner with more than her fair share of the blankets and he assumed Kang Ta and Hee Jun were under the mountain of blankets in the kitchen. Every single one of them were fast asleep, oblivious to the camera men and the horrified idol in their "Door way."

"We're going to have to edit the hell out of this..." Seven said to one of the camera men who just shrugged.

"WAKE UP!" Seven yelled as loudly as he could. There was a flurry of blankets, pillows and clothing as DBSG woke up startled.

"Who?" Mickey asked blinking at the bright lights on the cameras.

"Help!" Xiah cried hiding behind Mickey trying to fix his hair.

"Five more minutes." Uknow mumbled rolling over.

"Get up, get up, get up!!!" Seven ordered. "Who is that girl?!" Seven pointed to the ruffled girl sitting up in the corned. "And why is K-pop's den mother in th kitchen with Kang Ta?!"

"I'm an Ex- Woo Hyun Fan!" The girl explained hotly. "He lied and I want pay back!"

Seven stared at her, trying to find something to say but ended up turning to face the kitchen where Hee Jun was finally poking his head above the covers.

"You were supposed to keep shit like this from happening Hee Jun! Your not even with your team!" Hee Jun just shrugged. "What happened last night?"

"I don't know. The hairy girl attacked me in my sleep last night, saying something about kissing a Dong...one?"

"You kissed who?!" Kang Ta Cried shooting from under the covers.

"But I didn't!" Hee Jun explained quickly.

"Never mind, I don't care! Hee Jun get with your team, we're going to start the next competition in 30 minutes so everyone be ready and down there. We'll straighten this out then. You," Seven turned to the fan girl who was helping Xiah fix the back of his hair. "I don't know what to do with you... Just stay here for now and I'll ask the producer."

"Like hell I'm staying here!" She screamed. "That's what Woo Hyun said and he never came back!" She suddenly burst into tears and Mickey acquirly patted her shoulder.

"I'm hungry." Hero said sleepily. Everyone turned to him slowly, holding their breath but he just laid back down next to UKnow mumbling something about fan girls needing more meat on them.

***

The pink team stood on one side of a mud pit and the black team on the other. Seven and the fan girl stood at the side looking at the camera man.

"Welcome back to Battle of the Boy Bands! I'm seven!" He Flipped onto his hands and made the seven sign. The fan girl stepped away quickly, startled by sevens sudden movement and bumped into the camera man. "And this is.. uh... my assistant, I guess."

"Awsome!" The fan girl blew a kiss to the camera then flipped off Woo Hyun who was staring at her. Woo Hyun looked around startled.

"Wasn't that...?" He asked Young one.

"Not everyone can love you, pretty boy." Young one said then went back to stretching in preparation for the game.

"Today we're starting off the competition with a tug of war game. And since there have been recent... complications... the winners will get to stay in the black teams cabin tonight. There will be one, two three... " He paused looking a little torn because he had to stop counting before he reached seven. "Three games they have to compete in today! Each much harder than the last. Now lets start!" Seven and the camera man turned the mud pit and idols picking up the rope.

"I'll hurt my hands!" Xiah whimpered.

"Shut up and just pull! I don't want to sleep up in a tree again tonight." Max growled.

On the other side of the mud pit Jumin was giving a pep talk. "Are we going to let a bunch of 17 year old light weights beat us?"

"NO!" Everyone cheered but Donghwa who was staring off.

"Alright lets do this!" Jumin smacked a couple of them on the ass and they all went to collect the rope.

"Donghwa!" Ubin pulled his absent friends into place. "You pull really hard as soon as they say go, okay?" He explained in a kind voice. "Donghwa, are you listening?" But it was too late, the fan girl had grabbed the mic from an unsuspecting Seven and was now starting the game.

"READY?! SET! GO!" She through her arms into the air.

Both teams pulled as hard as they could and Uknow screaming encouragment while Max yelling profanity as neither side budged.

"Why aren't we winning?!" Young One cried pulling with all his might. "We're all bigger than them!"

Ubin looked around and saw Donghwa behind him standing idlely and admiring a butterfly flying close to his nose.

"Donghwa pull! DONGHWA!" Ubin started to scream as somehow K-pop's feet started to slide in the dirt.

"DONGHWA PAY ATTENTION!" Jumin begged as he, the closest to the mud pit, started to see it get closer.

"What?" Donghwa blinked.

"PULL!" All four of them yelled.

"Oh." The tides turned and quickly DBSG lost their footing and Uknow, who was in the front, tumbled into the mud pit.

"NOOO!" Hero cried and stood on the very edge of the mud pit. "Baby, are you okay?"

"AHH! It's in my hair!" UKnow sobbed

K-pop danced around and cheered and Ubin insisted on hugging everyone. UKnow managed to climb out of the pit covered from head to toe in mud. "He looks like swamp thing..." Mickey said as everyone stepped away from him.

"Somebody help me!" UKnow begged as he stumbled around blindly trying to rub mud from his face. No one stepped towards him. Just then Kang Ta and Hee Jun stepped from the wilderness looking a little too happy. Kang Ta saw the state of his team and came at a run. Moon Hee Jun sauntered over to his team and joined in the celebrations and happily accepted a hug from Ubin who seemed to have forgotten he was supposed to be angary at Hee Jun.

Kang Ta took off Hee Jun's jacket which he had been sporting and used it to help UKnow wipe himself off with. "Poor thing! I should have been here..."

"Now on to the next game!" Seven cheered.

"Already?!" DBSG cried as one.

[laqueus]

^^^^ me reading this

MUCH TO CONSIDER, like I really enjoy the contextualisation of magic as both an export & also a tool here. because a lot of the time magic is just, like. there. this is our local wizard who can shoot fire out of his hands. why? because he's a wizard.

but here it's like YES WE ARE MYSIDIA (formerly known as the powerful mage gang) AND THIS IS OUR EXPORT FOR USE IN YOUR HOME BUY BASUNA NOW FOR ONLY 800 GIL! plus how it's distributed between the towns is very crunchy to me (practical use!)

Post-Mateus, I feel like at first there would be attempts at being strict with who can use magic and for what purposes - all to help rebuilding - like, you can only have magic if you are using it for This One Specific Purpose. the best way I can think of it is like getting having to be forklift certified and then you can only use that forklift to move boxes around the warehouse. you can't take it away and use it to run over goblins in the car park outside.

plus, after mateus had his satan-sponsored rampage over literally everything, i don't that people are gonna be thrilled with magic, esp. strong magic, so in regards to using magic for rebuilding purposes, once your magic level in a certain area gets to level five, you get rotated to a different job, get a new tome and learn a new spell. like, people will tolerate your forklift, but once you put spikes and flamethrowers on the front, people are going to be less pleased about you using it. so now you get to learn how to use a pneumatic drill. or something. sorry this metaphor is a bit strange.

HOWEVER, I think that even thought there are people who are like "NO MAGIC", I think that others will spiral in the opposite direction, like, WE NEED STRONG MAGIC BECAUSE OTHERWISE HOW ARE WE GOING TO SURVIVE IN THE MEANTIME??

but because everything is in ruins and there isn't really enough of a government(? or something) to enforce the restrictions of magic, I think that'd it'd be a case of 'yah, there's a restriction on magic, but everyone just ignores and it's not really enforced'. so you're driving around your level 12 forklift, running goblins over anyway.

once things are a lot, lot more stable, then I think the magic restrictions would actually end up being A Thing. BUT over time I think they'd just end up slipping, and in the end things would kinda end up in a pre-emperor state. like. you can certainly level up fire to 16 or whatever, but like. why. why would you need that. (WAIT FUNNY THOUGHT: FRAIL GRANDMOTHER WHO'S USED THE FIRE SPELL TO COOK ALL HER LIFE AND AS A RESULT IT'S MAX LEVEL. GO ULTIMATE-FIRE GRANDMOTHER)

and like, I think the magic restrictions slipping would also be in mysida's interest, because THAT'S THEIR EXPORT BAYBEEEE. and you know they'd be like "We Must Be Very Careful With Magic Because points at History", but people are people and end up forgetting, or just act like things can't happen again, even when it's spiralling that way.

MUCH TO CONSIDER

also i must admit that i haven't actually played ff2 myself, but instead watched longplays on yt of it, and also long covid has riddled my memory with holes, so if i forget or overlook something, i'm sorry. my brain is just. bad these days.

ON ANOTHER NOTE I think one of the funniest things is that for the longest time (and even maybe now) Firion, just. didn't have a fixed appearance. like for everyone else it varied a little but was generally consistent, but firion? different appearance in every bit of artwork. it'd be completely stupid but also very funny if he was this was in the game as well, like you look away for a second, and when you looks back his entire look has changed. king behaviour. you know what. he has so few traits that i am giving him pmdd now. sorry king.

biting and scratching and crying thinking about deumion, like. LIKE you don't want to kill but your skill means that you're now 1. immortal, 2. alone, 3. forced to kill anyone who reaches you (if you're unlucky.) HE'S LITERALLY SHACKLED TO DEATH ITSELF my man cannot catch a BREAK 💔 on a lighter note, leila is so fun! how did she escape the leviathan? who knows! but what I do know is that I have no choice but to stan. I am gently holding all the ffii characters in my hands. except for borghen.

IT MAKES ME FUCKING CRAZY. hes so young. one of the last things he hears before he leaves to be stuck in isolation for millennia is his mother wailing behind him, desperately crying out his name. hes just a KID THEYRE ALL JUST KIDS ITS NOT FAIR. to be forced (ITS STILL FORCED AND YOU KNOW IT. YOU CANT PUT ALL THAT ON A KID AND EXPECT HIM TO SAY NO) to hold the weight of the future on your shoulders without ever even getting to see it. to be able to do nothing but hope that mankind survives with your sacrifice. everyones futures in exchange for your own and youll never even get to see it.

LIKE. he doesnt know that the shit w mateus was going down!! he has no idea how the outside world is doing! its just him and his ouppy and the arcane labyrinth and eternity. AND THATS THE GOOD ENDING. ETERNITY FOREVERMORE ALONE AND FORGOTTEN BY THE GREATER WORLD. THIS IS NOT A GOOD ENDING DAWG IM CRYING!!!!!!

BUT HIS. HIS DESPERATION AS HE CRAWLS AFTER YOU, DEFEATED BUT UNABLE TO LET GO BECAUSE WHAT WAS IT ALL FOR IF HE FALLS HERE. IF HE RELINQUISHES DESTRUCTION TO A STRANGER HE COULD NEVER KNOW. and even then, all the others he himself had slain to fulfill his role, as someone who loves humanity so deeply that his love is all he is anymore.

HES A KID.

cough. erm.

smiles at u. leila. girlbossing it up in here. TBH even without a ship youd have to imagine shes prepped as a swimmer + leviathan would have no reason to attack her after swallowing down firion and the crystal rod plus the tower is otherwise surrounded by that ring of land. so as unlikely as it would seem, i wouldnt say its outside of the realm of possibility for her to make it to land, esp w leviathan fucking w the currents. the biggest obstacle aside from the open water would be the monsters, but then again, it's not like she doesnt come default w thunder (i have so many thoughts abt magic and mysidia and i would LOVE to hear what someone else thinks abt it if ur ever up for that). so its unlikely, but i cant say its impossible for her to make it out of there... her other obstacle would be making it off the isles Also without a ship but tbh if she swam out of the bay i think she can make it across that channel also. to be quite honest.

ff2 characters 🥰 paul my good friend paul. finally, my chance to live up to my blog title has arrived.

[chasingpj]

𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

"Bye, for now, puddles."

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 6,220

warnings: a little angst, missing a meal, death of a parent, i believe that is all.

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story, click here

a/n: hi hi! I'm so excited to finally get this chapter to you guys. I'm sorry this literally took a month. i was taking two writing-intensive courses this summer and i was just burnt out. i hope you enjoy it!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

A grunt escapes you; your contorted body weighs down the top of your suitcase as your damp fingers slip off the metal zipper. The unforgivingly humid weather provokes the heat of your efforts, adding to your discomfort. There’s urgency in your fingers, your frustration growing at each failed attempt to close your suitcase.

“Y/n! Hurry up!” Atticus shouts from outside of the Hermes cabin. As the zipper slips out of your grasp once again, you throw your head back in annoyance, hand coming up to push away wisps of hair that fall on your face. A familiar chuckle comes from the corner of the room, grabbing your attention from the wooden ceiling. Connor sits on the side of his bed; his comic book forgotten beside him as you fussing over your suitcase seems to be more interesting to him.

“It’s not funny,” you grumble, sitting onto your heels.

Connor rises from his bed, shrugging his shoulders with a smirk. He kneels by your suitcase, “It’s kinda funny.”

The corners of your mouth almost curve up, but you stop yourself, opting for a roll of your eyes instead.

“What the hades do you have in here?” The tips of his fingers turn white as he pulls on the little piece of metal. You shift your weight to the corner he works on, but it helps him as much as it helped you earlier.

“My brother’s left a bunch of books behind, so Lou Ellen and I split them up. She’s taking half, and I take the rest. We’ll study them and then exchange notes.” A hum of acknowledgment comes from Connor’s lips as he inches the suitcase closed.

“You guys are a bunch of nerds.” You squint at the other with a playful offense, and he laughs at your hardened features. “I bet you guys study more than the Athena Kids,” he teases.

“There’s a lot to learn,” you say simply, watching as he brings the zipper to the end. He leans back on his heels, and you move to take in the half-empty cabin.

The sight of the Hermes cabin being this tidy was foreign. There aren’t any sleeping bags on the floor; the belongings of your many cabin mates didn’t clutter the walls or the corners of the room as they usually do. It’s funny. There are always complaints of the cabin being too small, but it appears bigger without the mess.

“Will you and Atticus visit throughout the year?” Connor’s expression is hopeful. As the last day of camp approached, Connor’s wishes of a full cabin all year round became more apparent. The shift from a max-capacity cabin to a half-empty one must be a tough transition for social people like Stoll Brothers. If it were you, you’d be counting down the days of everyone’s departure.

You ruffle his brown locks, “we’ll probably stop by for, maybe, spring break?” Connor’s hopefulness begins to sag, and you frown. Spring break is pretty far from now, huh? “Depending on how mortal life treats us. You know, we might be back soon,” you add on quickly, hoping to lift his smile.

Though you wish to go home, you’re dreading all the supernatural activity you’ll have to deal with once you leave. Your father works tirelessly to protect the house, but entities always manage to get in. And if they can’t, they don’t mind hanging outside.

The hopefulness that faded from Connor’s face restores, and he gives you that famous mischievous smirk. “Well, I hope the ghosts bother you guys enough to come to visit early.” His tone is playful, but you can tell he meant some of his words. You laugh hesitantly and nod, rising from your suitcase.

“I’m glad you’re that eager to see us again.”

You thank him as he leans down, lifting the heavy suitcase from the ground for you.

“Y/n!”

“I’m coming!” You tug on the handle, glancing at Connor. “The year will go by fast, and soon this cabin will be bursting at the nails with new unclaimed people. Atticus, Lou, and I included. Anyways, you have your brother. You guys will find something to entertain yourselves.” You nudge him as you make your way outside.

“Yeah, you’re right. You will write to me, yeah?” Connor asks.

“Of course. I’ll send you snacks that you can’t buy at the gas station.” Connor’s arm pumps back to his side, hand in a fist as he hisses a “yes.”

The corners up your mouth hesitantly pull up as you push open the cabin door, finding Atticus and Travis talking on the porch. For the past week, the anticipation of your departure was killing you, but now that it was time to leave, you feel gloomy.

You knew the cause of your heavy heart was the uneasy tone of your going. Living day by day with the intention of moving on was hard. Because every time you look at their newly occupied beds, the sinking feeling in your chest returns. Every time you find yourself wandering in the forest, the memories of your often chaotic magic lessons flood your mind. You remember when Alice misaimed her wind spell, shooting Alabaster far into the trees. While you all rushed to check on him, Alice burst into tears because she was convinced she killed him only to approach a laughing Alabaster who shouted, “Right on!”

Every time you were in the Arts and Crafts center, you remember how you, Sage, and Lou would do Tarot Readings for the campers and how you would argue with the Apollo kids when they insisted your tarot cards are as honest as fortune cookies.

At the armory, you remember how Ambrose ran into James so hard, he stumbled and knocked down half of the shelves of weapons.

In the courtyard, you remember how Ernest, horrified by heights, produced the highest pitch scream he possibly could as he rode a pegasus for the first time under the persuasion of Alabaster.

All these memories, whether hilarious like your spell mishaps or bittersweet like when you and your sibling’s group hugged around Sage when she cried about her abusive stepmother, held a special place in your heart. Because the times where you laughed and cried together reminded you of the genuine bond, the family that was ripped away from you overnight.

“We'll see you guys soon. We should go. Argus will leave without us," Atticus says, relieved that Argus is still waiting for you on top of Half-Blood Hill.

“Have a safe trip, guys,” Travis says, patting Atticus’s shoulder before reaching out his arm and giving you a short side hug. You grab your things, hastily saying a final goodbye, and soon, you and Atticus are trudging up the hill.

Your free hand pats the pocket of your shorts, calming your worry of forgetting the necklace at the cabin. What rests in your pocket is a raw tourmaline crystal, now smooth with the help of Beckendorf, encased in a silver spiral cage.

You and Atticus carry protection crystals all the time, and they help with staying out of the radar of monsters and entities. After hearing Percy’s many stories of monsters bothering him, you figured he couldn’t be too cautious. Then after finding a spell in Alabaster’s many books that can dim down a demigod scent for a while, you decided to make him an enchanted necklace to wear.

You pack into the truck with Atticus right on time. Atticus sits in front of you, chatting away with Cecil as you make yourself comfortable in the back row with Ambrose. You frown; among the three other campers in the van with you, Percy isn’t one of them. Argus peeks into the back, doing a rough headcount. Great, now you’ll have to wait until next summer to give it to him.

Right, when you were going to chastise yourself for not giving him the necklace yesterday when you were done with it, a distant voice shouts, "wait!"

Argus halts in the middle of closing the sliding down and turns around. He shakes his head with disapproval while opening the door all the way, revealing out of breath Percy.

A smile widens across your face as he gets into the back seat with you, and you nudge Atticus’s seat.

"See, I told you we wouldn't be the last ones here.” You side-eye Percy, seeing the corners of his mouth pull up in amusement.

“Some people just don’t know how to get to places on time, huh?” Atticus says, and his eyes flicker to Percy before giving you a wide grin.

“Didn’t sleep in today, firefly?” There is a playfulness in Percy’s voice, and you smile proudly,

“Nope, not today.”

“It’s a miracle,” Percy mutters, loud enough for you to hear, and you scoff. Atticus snickers and nods in agreement.

“We were supposed to gang up on him, not you two on me.” You stick your tongue out at Atticus, and he returns the action.

“It’s more fun making fun of you,” Atticus teases.

“Rude,” you mumble with a slight smile on your face. The two boys chuckle, Atticus turning more into his seat to tell Percy something about a new Marvel movie. Excited voices fill the van as the other boys join in the conversation, and soon they are debating if Batman is really a superhero or just a rich guy in a suit.

You had to admit, as the conversation became more passionate, you were pretty entertained, but as you catch sight of Camp Half-Blood growing farther in the distance, you’re reminded of the ache in your chest. It’s only a temporary leave, but when you return, things will never be the same, and the false hope of your siblings returning has been proven to be foolish.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

Following a ghost dog while weaving through the hustle and bustle of Grand Central is almost impossible. Atticus’s hand is latched to the straps of your bookbag as you move through people, trying not to roll your eyes at the way Ambrose turns to bark as if he was reprimanding you for being too slow. Easy for him to say when he can walk through walls and people.

“Track 28,” Atticus reminds you as your eyes find the number written on the tan bricks of the high walls. You make a sharp left towards the entrance of another hallway, ignoring the groans of a grouchy bystander that you may have cut off. The next hallway you enter is a lot less crowded than the main floor, and you slow down your pace.

“Where do you guys live again?” Percy asks as he jogs up beside you. He had insisted on walking you guys since his train departs in the same station.

“Sleepy Hollow.” Percy scrunches his face as if he recalls something, and you smile, waiting for the question everyone asks when you say you live there.

“Have you seen the headless horsemen?” Percy asks, half-joking. A snort leaves your throat, and you look at Atticus, who’s equally amused.

“Oh yeah, plenty of times.”

“Really?” Percy asks, his eyes wide with surprise, and you laugh.

“No.” Your response makes his face drop comedically fast, and Atticus bursts into laughter. “It’s just a story, but there’s a lot of history there, so the place is crawling with ghosts. We’ve met the guy who wrote the story, though,” you mention.

“No way,” Percy squints his eyes in disbelief.

“I’m serious! Atticus and I take walks in the cemetery sometimes. We leave drachmas on the graves of newly passed people, so their venture into the underworld is smooth, but some people like to wander.” You shrug. “Washington Irving is one of those people.”

“Cool,” Percy says with such enthusiasm that it makes you smile. Ambrose turns around and barks again, standing at the golden entrance that leads to the grey tunnel lit with fluorescent white lights where your train waits beside the concrete platform.

“He always rushes us,” Atticus complains, and Harvey lets out a coo that sounded close to a groan as if he agreed with him.

The marble floors turn to concrete as you enter the tunnel. The blue and silver train on your left hums as it sits dormant in its station. Ambrose trots ahead, peaking into the doors and windows to find an empty cart to occupy.

As you follow a few feet behind him, your fingers fiddle with the necklace resting in your pocket. You’re regretting not giving it to Percy earlier because, for some reason, the idea of giving it to him now was more intimidating than if you had done it earlier on the bus.

Ambrose decides on a cart, and Harvey jumps off Atticus’s shoulder, squealing happily as he follows the hound while completely ignoring a worried Atticus trailing close behind.

"I, uh, made this for you," you sputter, the words coming out fast like vomit. Your fingers pull out the crystal necklace abruptly, and you put it in the palm of his hand. "It's black tourmaline. It has protective qualities; good at keeping negative energy, negative auras, things like that. I put a spell on it to dim down your demigod scent for a while, so you catch a little bit of a break. It'll last for a few weeks, maybe a month or two if the spell caught on well."

You bite your lip as Percy studies the necklace resting in his hand. "Wow, really? Thank you, Y/n. This is great.”

Nervous, you shift on your feet under his bright, smiling orbs. "It's no problem. After everything that happened at camp, I think it’ll be good for you to have one.”

Percy nods, his features softening all of a sudden, and he shifts. “Thanks for protecting me,” he says, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks. “Getting rid of that thing became more than you expected. I felt bad that I couldn’t help. Swords aren’t really useful when it comes to demons, huh?”

A small laugh of agreement leaves your lips. “It was nothing. I wasn’t going to let you be tormented by that thing if I could help it.”

An announcement echoes in the hall, reporting the departure of your train in a few minutes. You glance over, catching Atticus, Ambrose, and Harvey with their noses practically pressed against the window as they witness your interaction with Percy. The amused smirk on Atticus’s face makes you roll your eyes; he’s definitely going to tease you when you get on the train.

"I should go.” You face Percy again, catching him securing the necklace around his neck. The stone rests a few inches under his camp half-blood necklace. "Thanks for walking us here. Be careful getting home."

"You too…” he trails off, noticing your brother looking out the window. For a second, he seems as embarrassed as you do and a nervous chuckle leaves his lips. “Your brother is waiting."

“He’s so annoying,” you complain, and Percy’s next chuckle doesn’t sound as hesitant this time. "Well, uh, bye, for now, puddles,” you tease, butterflies dancing in your stomach.

"Bye, for now, firefly."

You both awkwardly wave at each other before you turn around, getting on the train with Atticus. With your gaze fixed on the floor, you plop into the seat next to him. You don’t even need to look to know he is smiling teasingly at you.

"How cute,” he teases, nudging your shoulder repeatedly with his own.

"Ew, shut up.” You shove at his shoulder, your nose scrunching as he flails his arms against yours as if you were fighting. Atticus chuckles and a string of sounds come from your familiars as they join in to tease you, and you couldn’t help but laugh too.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

The suburban streets of your neighborhood are filled with the chirps of birds and bugs and the sounds of cars that pass every once in a while. There isn’t much conversation between you and Atticus as you trudge up the hill leading to your dead-end street.

“Gods, I hope we can get inside without being seen,” you manage to say through your heavy breaths, lazily holding on to the handle of your suitcase as it rolls behind you. Ambrose’s nose nudges the back of your knees as if to encourage you, but it’s more cute than helpful.

“There’s no way that we are. Janie and Celia are always sitting on the neighbor’s porch.” You grunt in acknowledgment, knowing that Atticus is right. The neighborhood ghosts are friendly enough, but their company can be annoying.

As if on cue, you hear a delighted squeal from ahead the moment you reach the top of the hill. Two ladies wave their handkerchiefs in the air a handful of houses away.

Celia, the tallest of the two, wears a steel blue dress with a high neckline and a big bow tied on the base of her neck. She has a jacket button closed over her corset with a frill at the end of her sleeves. Her skirt is floor-length and complete, with ruffles cascading down its entirety. And, of course, no one can miss the high-crowned hat decorated with fake flowers, bows, and crimped fabric as it all sits on top of her blonde hair in an intricate updo. Janie, her sister, wears the same style of dress and headpiece only in a burgundy red. The resemblance between the two makes it clear that they’re siblings close in age. They have the same high pinched noses that jut in the air; both of their faces are regal like those in renaissance paintings.

You’ve seen them around for as long as you can remember. They were two sisters who died of scarlet fever a year before their first courting season, which was a big deal according to their constant moaning and groaning about it.

You look ahead, your expression blank as if their high-pitched voices didn’t fill the streets and they weren't racing toward you with their skirts in their hands.

“My word! It’s the end of summer already?”

“Atticus, you’ve grown taller!”

“What a handsome boy! Y/n, your shorts are too short, don’t you think?”

“It’s quite bizarre how such clothing is acceptable these days.”

“How beautiful you’d look in a gown like ours!”

“Where’s Alabaster?” Janie asks, attempting to circle her arm around Atticus’s, but he raises his arm to push back his damp hair to avoid the contact. She scoffs at his rejection and sighs.

“Alabaster was sweeter to us than you guys!” Celia pouts. Your heart sinks a little at the mention of him. Of course, they’d ask about him, and of course, your father will ask too.

Gods! Your father will ask about him.

You had forgotten you’d have to break the news today. These past few weeks, you debated whether or not you should do it by letter, but it felt wrong. It was only right that he’d find out in person.

“We know you can hear us,” Janie huffs.

“I hope dad doesn’t work late tonight. Do you think Grandma will be waiting for us?” You ask. As annoying as it was having spirits follow you, it was a little fun ignoring them when convenient for you. Atticus nods,

“Probably-”

“No one’s home,” Celia cuts in, and Atticus pretends to shoo a bug away to conceal that he paused from her interruption.

“But I don’t think dad is going to take long. He said his last lecture ended at three,” Atticus continues, and you nod.

‘I hope grandma came by to visit. I missed her.”

“I just said no one’s home.” Celia snaps, and you press your lips together to hide your smile.

Atticus sighs. “I know, I’m dying for those moon cookies she makes us.” At the mention of those cookies, your stomach grumbles. You hope Celia was wrong because you’re suddenly craving your grandmother’s cooking and her company. Her funny stories and voice that’s always a little too loud for the indoors never fails to cheer you up. As short and frail as she is, her voice and personality could fill a room.

“Me too,” you say shortly.

“Hello?!” Celia waves her handkerchief in your face, and you persisted in ignoring her. Suddenly, a sound of disgust comes from Janie as she brushes off her skirt.

“Y/n, retrieve this monster of yours!” She squeals as Ambrose bites the fabric of her dress, tugging on it with a growl.

“Damn this dog,” Celia shouts, attempting to shoo him away, but yelps in surprise as Ambrose snaps his jaw shut near her hand. “Get this thing under control! Y/n!”

Your hand comes up to cover your smile even though the two are shuffling behind you and a stifled chuckle comes from Atticus. The sound of Janie’s heels on the concrete becomes louder as she rushes beside Atticus again, and your smiles drop. The sight of your house comes into view, and you tilt your head confused; your father’s car is parked in the driveway.

“You said no one was home?” You say out loud, and Celia gasps beside you,

“Now you speak to me?” She snaps, halting as you approach the fence. She stands tall, hands folded in front of her elegantly as Janie’s expression is gleaming like a child on Christmas. “Your father requested to keep it a secret, so I obliged his wishes. He canceled his last lecture today to make you both a meal. What a lovely man.”

Your hand finds the latch for the white picket fence as you smile at the familiar narrow victorian-style house ahead of you. A path of cobblestone leads you to the brick steps of the small porch.

Your home sticks out from the more modern American houses that surround the area. It’s an antique, a snippet of history, as your father likes to say. The house is a russet brown only because the bricks are so old they’ve darkened in color. The house accents such as the window trims, porch overhang, and columns are copper, and the hipped roof has brown tiles that look like fish scales. Beside the porch, the bay windows from both stories stack on top of each other, and above the porch roof is the dormer that’s a part of your bedroom.

Gods, you’re yearning to be in your room. You just want to pull out your Murphy bed from the wall and bury yourself in your sheets. The idea of being in bed puts a pep in your step, and you are careful to avoid the salt ring that surrounds your house.

A butterfly passes by your face, flying to the bunchberry bushes your father has planted in the front garden. Among the grass, there are various flowers and herbs that your father grows in the summer. You’ve inherited many things from your father, but his green thumb isn’t one of them. He takes his gardening seriously while you can barely keep the cacti in your room alive.

“Enjoy your meal! Come talk to us one of these days. We missed you two!” Janie shouts after you as you make your way up the stairs. You turn around, Atticus smiling at them.

“We missed you, girls, too,” he says as if he didn’t want to admit it. Janie squeals something about how handsome his smile is, and you scoff, amused as you grab the doorknob.

Once you push the door open, you're hit with a rush of deja vu. The history channel plays faintly in the next room as you take in the home you’ve missed dearly.

There are two bookshelves against the wall on your right, a wide ledge with pillows under the bay windows. A messy coffee table filled with letters and stacked with books sits in front of the comfy reading nook, letting you know that your father was recently hanging out there.

There is a brown mahogany staircase that ascends upstairs to your left, and right beside it is the altar for your mother. A statue of her rests in the middle of the rectangle table covered in a black table cloth. On top of it lies the many offerings for your mom. Herb-dressed candles burn beside bowls of fruit, bouquets, a crystal enamel wine glass filled with alcohol, feathers, and other things. You ignore the altar as you put down your stuff beside the door, following Atticus as he takes off his shoes.

“Kids?” You hear your father call enthusiastically from beyond the foyer, and you persist forward into the entryway ahead of you.

“We’re home!” Atticus announces as he enters beside you. Ambrose barks making a beeline to the right and behind the kitchen counter. He jumps on your father with so much force he stumbles back.

“Gods! Why does he look even bigger?” Your father exclaims through a laugh, fixing the round glasses that threaten to slip off his nose as his other hand grips Ambrose’s paw. He yelps in surprise as Harvey's claws rest on top of his head, clinging to his hair to steady himself.

The warmth and smell of home fill your senses as you catch your dad’s gaze. “Well, come here! Are you going to hug your pops or what?”

You rush over with Atticus. Both of you hug your dad tightly on either side of him, and you smile as he presses a kiss on your temples. “I missed you guys so much!”

“We missed you too!” The smile on your face falters as he looks up, scanning the archway as if he was waiting for someone else. You shift, not ready to be faced with the question, and you peer around his body to look at the food on the stove behind him.

Your father notices your interest, and he chuckles. “Come on, let’s eat. You guys came right on time.”

You shuffle through the kitchen with Atticus, making your way to the rounded table at the end of the kitchen.

“Dad, what have you been up to?” Atticus asks teasingly, and your father perks up.

“I've done a lot of things to keep me busy. I volunteered to teach summer classes while you were gone. I’m reading this book with a fascinating perspective of the shift from Paganism to Christianity in Rome. It’s an amazing read; I highly recommend it. Though, I don’t quite agree with it.” Your father hums thoughtfully. “Oh! And I bought gnomes for our garden! And the thrift store had this little house and this old lady figurine! I put it on the porch. I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but she’s the official guard of the door," he declares proudly. "And…” He twists and turns before heading to the bookshelves in the living room area. He grabs something from the shelf then he showcases a cartoon Dobby bobblehead with wide arms. A high-pitched cackle leaves his lips. “It completes our collection!”

“Woah! Where did you get it? We went to three different places for it, and we couldn’t find it.” Atticus matches your father’s excitement, and you snort at the two.

“I went to a mythology convention in Boston a few weeks ago. There was a game stop across the street from the center, and I thought, ‘why not?’ I went in, and I saw this little guy by the register.” Your father is giddy as he nudges the head and watches it jiggle in his hands.

You think of what your grandmother’s reaction would be if she saw all the things he bought on his trip to the thrift store. She’d definitely complain. She always said that even growing up, your father had a liking for knickknacks. On your shelves and counters, there are always little trinkets lying around. It even extends to the walls, a variety of paintings and diagrams are neatly hung beside each other. From the state of your house, it’s clear your father is a maximalist in its purest definition.

“Wow! That’s awesome!” Atticus reaches out his hand for it as your father brings over his entire collection of Harry Potter bobbleheads, the toys huddled in his chest before he places them on the dining table. “The whole gang can hang out with us for dinner.”

“I hope they like pasta,” Atticus comments, lining them up as your dad retrieves the pan of food.

Your stomach grumbles at the sight, and you’re quick to serve yourself as Atticus and your Dad talk about anything and everything. You guys discuss what your grandmother has been up to, how your father’s classes were going, which led your father to ramble so much he formed a tangent on top of another. The conversation was going so well that you were sure he wouldn’t ask about your summer, but you had assumed too soon.

“So enough about me! How was Camp?” Your father chirps, and you shift in your seat.

You smile with confidence to hide the wariness you felt. “It was great!” You figured if you keep your answer short, you could move past it quickly.

“Yeah, the usual. Fun as always,” Atticus adds.

Your father’s eyes flicker between the two of you, and the first thing he notices is the way your smiles don’t reach the rest of your face.

The clanging of metal utensils on glass plates fills the room as the both of you fixate on your food but neither take a bite. The camp was never a touchy subject. The sudden unwillingness to speak about it makes his eyebrow cock up in suspicion. His eye averts to the empty dining chair beside you and the dinner place settings that remained untouched. Alabaster was supposed to join your return home. At least, that’s what he had assumed.

“Did Alabaster decide to stay at his foster home?” There’s caution in his tone, and he’s taken aback at how both you and Atticus tense up. The clings of metal halt abruptly, and slowly, you move to glance at your father.

“Dad, something happened at camp this summer.” Now, it was your turn to have a tone laced with caution. Alabaster lived with you for months and quickly became a part of the family. Your father saw him as his second son, and you were afraid to break the news that he may never see him again.

“What happened? Did he get into trouble?” You frown at the sudden edge in his voice. Atticus shifts beside you,

“He took the others to go fight for the Titan Lord.”

“What?”

“Mother came to speak to him and told him that it was best to fight for the other side since their chances are better,” you say slowly. “They left at the end of July. Only Atticus, Lou Ellen, and I stayed at camp.”

Your father’s expression darkens, grief written all over his face. “And you haven’t seen them since?”

You shake your head, not wanting to delve into the details. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing them again in a while and not in the best circumstances.” Your father nods, understanding the implication in your words. “Mother promised that she’d take care of them if they fight for the other side. I didn’t want to go; it wasn’t right.”

“That must be why everything is rotting,” your father mutters more to himself. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Rotting? What’s rotting?”

“Our offerings to your mother,” he clarifies. “All the fruit I leave on her altar goes bad in a few days. The flowers wither quickly too. The garden, in general, hasn’t been doing well either. I didn’t understand why.”

Your focus returns to your plate. Suddenly, you weren’t that hungry anymore.

She must be angry, you think to yourself. A part of you wanted a sign from her to let you know if she was bothered you didn’t join. When the sign didn’t come, you assumed she didn’t care; that, in a way, you were dead to her. It didn’t dawn on you to ask how the altar or the garden your father dedicated to her was doing.

“Can I be excused?” You strain, your face a little hot, and you’re not sure if it was from your anger or from the tears you’re blinking away.

“Of course.” The warm smile on your father’s face fails to budge the dread you’re feeling. “You can be excused as well, Atticus.”

You miss the way your father and Atticus exchange looks as you stood up. There wasn’t a verbal agreement, but Atticus stands up tall, determined to make you feel better. He trails behind you, and suddenly, he slings his arm across your shoulders. “You know what’s one of the things I missed at camp?”

“What?” You ask, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in your chest.

“Beating you at Tekken,” Atticus teases. Your lips curve slightly; his playful nature manages to brighten up your mood a little bit. “Let’s play. I’ll go easy on you, but I’m sure you’ll still lose regardless.”

“You’re on,” you nudge him, and Atticus chuckles, walking ahead of you and up the stairs. Your hand grips the railing, and you walk up a few steps before halting, and your eyes find the front door.

“You don’t get it!”

“I don’t.” You shrugged, amused at the way Atticus’s eyebrows knitted in disbelief. He ignored you, grabbed the remote, and played the Star Wars movie again. You groaned, seeing the slanted letters move up the TV screen. “Atticus! I can’t watch this!”

“Why not?!”

“Well, first off, my dyslexia won’t let me read that quickly, and if a physically written prologue is needed before a movie… it’s not a good movie!”

“How dare you!” You threw your head back as a laugh bubbled in your throat. The exasperated look on his face was too funny. You had no desire to watch these movies, and you figured if you bothered him enough, he’d give up trying to show them to you. The shrug of your shoulders made him scoff. “Just watch it!”

A huff left your lips, and unwillingly, you returned your gaze to the screen. Suddenly, a hollow knock came from the front door.

“It’s late,” you said, but Atticus was too caught up in the beginning battle of the movie to pay any mind to you. Rarely did you get visitors, definitely not past midnight on a Friday. Cautiously, you rose from the couch and moved toward the door.

Rain erratically hit against your curtain-covered windows; the wind and cold made the walls around you creak as they adjusted. Whatever waited for you at the door, you just wished it was a person, not a weird ghost or monster. Your finger latched on the side of the curtain, allowing you to peek through the glass of your front door.

A gasp left your lips. Alabaster, soaked from the ruthless rain outside, was the last person you expected to see. But even though you didn’t expect him, you had an inkling as to why he was here.

Hastily, you unlocked the door and flung it open. “Al?” You sputtered; his green orbs were surrounded by tired eyes and puffy skin.

“He died this morning,” he strained. Your expression softened, and before you could say anything, Alabaster stepped forward and hugged your shoulders tightly. The raggedness of his breath, the shutter of his body, sent your chest a weight of sorrow. You couldn’t imagine being in his shoes and losing your father to a long battle with cancer at 14. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes; the person you looked up to the most was breaking down. You never thought he would need your help for anything, but it seems that you were wrong. “I’m sorry. You guys live the closest to me, and I didn’t know where to go-”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted. “Oh, Al, I’m so sorry,” your voice cracked, hands rubbed his back as a sob left his lips. A creak of a floorboard caught your attention, and you turned to see a confused Atticus emerging from the living room. With a sad look, he understood what happened, and soon his expression was mimicking yours.

“I’ll wake dad and get clothes,” he said, then rushed upstairs.

Your father didn’t even hesitate to help Alabaster, opening the doors of your house to him. In his greatest time of need, the three of you stood beside him, and overnight, he had a place in your home and in your heart. The three of you spent so much time playing video games, getting into trouble around town, learning magic. All the good times you and Atticus shared with him, were they really worth throwing away to fight with Kronos? You realize now that his departure was never only a betrayal to the camp but to you, Atticus, and your father, and you couldn’t help but think perhaps, you guys didn’t mean as much to him as he meant to you.

A shaky sigh leaves your mouth at the thoughts persistent to ruin your mood. The desire to leave camp was to avoid all the things that reminded you of your siblings, but now that you returned home, you realize that running away isn’t as easy as you thought.

masterlist taglist: @xxyrr @nct127bee @mochabreezeee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr @Slytherclaw-kitten @zhethugisa @-thatgirloverthere- @sanovr @passionswift @nanskidoodle @idk-bye-no @ilvermornyidiot @all-hailreyna @blackpopcorn @autmngirlworld @sunkissedskin1328 @Hermioneswifeee @quteez @hajigayy @aleksanderwh0r3 @drayshadow @tonyedwardstarkk @londoncherry @ashookykooky @lotusnegra666 @loverstyless @t0xicmuse @ohmydamgods @jordannfields @tomriddles-wh0re @chasingpj @pixietilly1924 @amy-writes-blog @muted-mayham @shawkneecaps @cbmelody @dreamerball @earthtokace @thehighladyofday @theverydramaticcabbage @lala-llama123 @tootsdoll @slytherindaughterofposeidon0 @black-rose-29 @somekidnamedkai @possiblylostchasecousin @silver-gemini @vodkavanity @hamdehlesmis @shadowsndaisies @cami05sworld @does-anyone-hear-me @scarlets-widow

if your username is bolded that means i can’t tag you ! you probably have your visibility settings on!

[timelesslords]

prompts: could you write an in canon verse (so like gods and stuff are real) fic with amnesia? it could be post TLO or it could be one of them coming out of anesthesia and feeling wonky. i just love a good memory loss fic.

@halfbloodcarrie was instrumental in making this happen!!! Her adorable fluffy idea was completely paid dust in favor of making this angsty as hell but I blame her for me getting it done at all <3

read on AO3

Everything was dark. And everything hurt. His head especially was throbbing, but he couldn’t make out any other feeling. He could hear something; vague at first, just a ringing. But if he struggled, and he did, he could start to make out faint voices. His eyes refused to open, they wouldn’t even blink, but the noises were getting clearer by the second.

“What if he doesn’t wake up?” a worried voice asked. Something about it felt familiar, but he couldn’t even pry his eyes open, much less figure out who it belonged to.

“He’ll wake up,” a second voice said, male this time. He sounded confident, assured. At least he thought so.

“There was so much blood, I thought… gods.”

The first voice again, though this time it wavered. It sounded scared, terrified even.

“He’ll be alright, Annabeth. He’s got a thick skull.”

That made the first voice laugh, watery as it was.

“Don’t I know it.”

Some feeling was starting to return to his limbs, slowly but surely. He tried blinking again, but it felt sluggish, slow. Suddenly he realized he could feel his arms and fingers, and there was a hand in his, gripping it so tightly it was a wonder he hadn’t felt it before.

“Percy?” the female voice asked, hopeful. He groaned. His head was pounding like nothing he’d ever felt before. Actually, he wasn’t sure if that was true, because he couldn’t remember his head pounding before, ever.

Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember anything at all.

He blinked again, this time managing to pry his eyelids open a fraction of a degree. The light streaming in hurt like a bitch, and he groaned again, closing his eyes.

“Percy,” the first voice said again, more frantically, “Can you hear me?”

She seemed to be talking to him, though he wasn’t quite sure. He couldn’t remember his name, but she’d said Percy twice, so that had to be it, didn’t it?

He tried to say something to the girl, but it came out as a strangled groan of pain.

“Will,” she said, a little desperately.

“He’s maxed out, Annabeth, I’m sorry,” the other voice said.

The girl (Annabeth?) muttered something under her breath in-- was that Greek? And how did he know that? More determined than ever, Percy blinked again, this time managing to crack his eyelids open and keep them that way.

His vision was blurry, but a few more blinks and the vague shapes in front of him started to sharpen into focus.

“Percy?” the girl said again. Percy squinted, trying to focus on her.

The first thing he noticed was that she was-- well, pretty didn’t quite describe it. She was seriously beautiful. Her eyes were a dark grey color, currently wide with concern, her hair framing her face in cascades of golden curls. Her nose was small and button shaped, dotted with freckles.

Even if Percy didn’t currently feel like a small blacksmith’s forge was hammering on the inside of his skull, he was pretty sure he would’ve been rendered pretty speechless.

“Hey there, sleepyhead. You were out for a while,” she said, smiling. She did look relieved, but Percy didn’t miss the genuine worry behind her eyes either, the little waver along her lips trying to maintain an upbeat expression.

“I… what’s going on?” Percy asked. Annabeth bit her lip, looking over her shoulder. Percy glanced upwards, properly seeing the other person in the room for the first time. He was a teenager, with shaggy blonde hair a shade or two lighter than the girl’s. He was wearing a white lab coat over what looked to be an orange t-shirt and jeans, which didn’t exactly instill Percy with a lot of confidence in whatever medical care he was receiving.

Of course, the fact that he had no memory didn’t help matters.

“You sort of got hit in the head,” Annabeth said, wincing as she did.

“Really hard,” the boy added.

Percy reached up tentatively, to the place where it felt like his skull was splitting inside out. Instead of skin he felt something else, some thick sort of fabric.

“Ow,” he said, a little unhelpfully. The girl smiled again-- crap, how was she even more beautiful when she smiled?-- but it still had an edge of sadness to it.

“Yeah. Discus accident,” she said.

“Discus accident?” Percy asked, confused.

“Yeah. Those stone frisbee things, remember?” the other guy said.

“No,” Percy said, pushing himself into a sitting position. It made his head throb, but he couldn’t stand lying down anymore. “I don’t-- I don’t remember anything.”

“You mean-- you mean you don’t remember the accident,” Annabeth said, a little forcefully. Her grey eyes flashed, and Percy didn’t quite recognize the expression, but something in his gut told him it was not good.

“No, I mean I don’t remember anything,” Percy repeated, figuring it was best to get it out of the way sooner or later, “I don’t know where I am or who you are or who I am.”

The girl took one very long look at him. He didn’t know what exactly he had said in particular that had triggered something in her, but the concern fell from her face in an instant. She dropped his hand, something sharp overtaking her expression.

“You’re such an ass sometimes,” she said. Her voice was a little thick, but Percy couldn’t tell if she was crying, because in the next second she stood and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Inadvertently, Percy felt a twinge of something sad in his chest, though he couldn’t quite place why. He didn’t know Annabeth, but she clearly seemed to know him, and what he’d said had clearly set her off.

All of this was really not improving his headache, which had resumed its throbbing with reckless abandon.

“I didn’t mean to…” Percy trailed off. To what? Upset her? Make her run away? But all he’d done was tell the honest truth-- he couldn’t remember shit. The guy was giving him a look that was bordering on disgust.

“Dude, that’s really not funny,” he said. He sounded pissed, though if Percy wasn’t entirely mistaken, there was a hint of fear behind his bright blue eyes.

“I’m not trying to be funny, I literally don’t know what’s going on,” Percy said, starting to feel a little frantic. Why was everyone here acting like they knew him? And why did he not even know him? He felt nerves and something else tugging in his gut, an insistent, terrifying pull--

Without warning, the glass next to his bed shattered, spraying water and glass everywhere. Percy flinched away from the table, whirling around to look at the boy. His eyes were wide and surprised.

“What the fuck was that?” Percy asked, alarmed.

“That was… you,” the boy said, staring at Percy like he had just grown a second head, “Styx, you’re not making this up, are you?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t know what’s going on for you to believe me?” Percy said, still staring wide-eyed at the place where the cup had shattered. For his own sanity, he decided to ignore the boy’s declaration that he had caused it.

“Four, apparently,” the boy said, rubbing his forehead like he could feel a headache coming on, “Unless you want to make it five for good measure?”

“I have absolutely no memory,” Percy repeated.

“Great. This is just-- this is awesome,” the boy said, sighing heavily.

“Yeah, I’m having so much fun over here,” Percy said dryly.

“Right, sorry,” the boy said, wincing, “Your name is Percy.”

So Percy had guessed that correctly. Good to know.

“My name is Will,” the boy continued, oblivious to Percy’s thoughts, “The girl was--”

“Annabeth,” Percy finished. Will perked up, hopeful, but Percy shook his head.

“I heard you say her name,” Percy explained. Will deflated.

“Oh, right,” he said. He sounded inordinately disappointed, way more disappointed than he’d been when Percy hadn’t remembered him.

“How exactly did this happen?” Percy asked, doing his best not to rub his forehead again. Will sighed.

“Some newbies were messing around with the discuses on the strawberry fields-- which is stupidly dangerous, by the way, we have an arena for a reason-- but it went a little off course and almost hit Annabeth in the face. You shoved her out of the way but it clipped your forehead pretty good.”

Percy tried to process all that, piece by piece. He didn’t know what a newbie was, and apparently wherever this place was had strawberry fields that he and Annabeth had been in together? But the strangest thing of all was that Percy didn’t feel at all surprised that he’d gotten injured trying to get Annabeth out of the way. That piece felt strangely right to him, even if everything else was messy and confusing.

“So me and Annabeth are friends, then?” he asked. Will gave him a strange look, his face paling slightly.

“You guys… you’re close. Really close.”

Percy nodded. That made sense. He didn’t know why Will was being weird about it, but he believed him regardless.

“She was mad at me,” Percy noted. At this, Will winced.

“Yeah. Memory loss… it's kind of a sore subject for her.”

“Why?” Percy asked. Maybe it was a little invasive, but this was all stuff he was supposed to know anyway, wasn’t it?

Will sighed, rubbing his face in his hands.

“Gods, I’m so not the person to be explaining this to you,” he said, “But a few years ago you sort of… disappeared. And you lost all your memories. Except you remembered her. But it was really, really tough on her, she had no idea if you were gonna know anything or not when she found you.”

Percy blinked, trying to take all that in. He had a feeling that was the hyper-condensed version of what had gone down, but it explained the situation well enough. Annabeth hadn’t considered the fact that he genuinely wouldn’t remember her, so she’d assumed it was a bad joke. Percy wished it was a bad joke, because he would give absolutely anything to remember more about her.

“Got it,” Percy said, trying not to frown, “So how did I get my memories back last time? Can we do that again?”

Will grimaced.

“I think last time you drank gorgon’s blood, but we’re fresh out of that.”

Percy stared at him, unsure if he was joking or not. He looked serious, but Percy didn’t want to press it. Clearly last time had been a different sort of deal.

“So what do we do? I can’t go around like this forever.”

“Well, hopefully it's just temporary. Your head injury, plus the mortal pain meds we gave you, plus the nectar--”

“The what?” Percy asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Will said, a little hurriedly. “The point is, your brain is processing a lot of stuff right now. My best guess is that it overloaded a bit, and the amnesia is a side effect. If that’s the case it should go away on its own eventually.”

“And if it’s not the case?” Percy asked, dreading the answer a little. As predicted, WIll grimaced again.

“It could be from the initial injury. In which case it would be… more permanent.”

Percy’s mouth went a little dry.

“Goodie.”

“It probably isn’t,” Will said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“So what do we do?” Percy asked again.

“You could try going to sleep. It might give your brain a chance to readjust, chill out a little. Or…”

Will trailed off, clearly unwilling to finish his thought.

“Or?” Percy prompted.

“Or we could try to jog your memory with stuff you might remember,” Will finished. Percy didn’t understand why this option seemed to be so unpleasant to Will, since it made the most sense to him. He felt disoriented as hell, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to calm his mind down enough to sleep anytime soon. Plus, he was pretty sure he’d been unconscious for a good long while.

“How long was I asleep just now?” Percy asked.

“A while,” Will admitted.

“So let’s try the other thing.”

Will swallowed heavily, his fingers gripping the sides of his white coat a little too tightly.

“Yeah. Okay,” he said, still not sounding happy about it at all, “I’ll-- ugh. Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

Percy did not move, mostly because he didn’t think he could get up from his bed if he tried. Being alone gave him the chance to observe the room he was in a little bit. It was small but clean, sort of a cross between a normal bedroom and a hospital unit. The walls were made of old looking hardwood, and if he craned his head back a little bit he could almost see out the window. It looked green out there, but it was kind of hard to tell.

Nothing about this place felt familiar, but that didn’t mean much, given nothing Percy had experienced since waking up felt familiar.

Nothing except for those few flashes of feeling he’d gotten about Annabeth, anyway.

Will was gone for a long time, a lot longer than Percy had been expecting. He couldn’t tell time very well and he didn’t see a clock anywhere, but it felt like Will had to have been gone at least half an hour, maybe more. Just when Percy was about to give up and try taking a nap, the door opened again. Will was there, but this time Annabeth was in tow too.

Percy tried not to read too hard into the fact that she didn’t look happy to be there. If he wasn’t mistaken, her eyes were puffy and red from crying, though now they were narrowed in barely constrained anger, her arms folded over her chest.

Will, for his part, looked extremely nervous. That didn’t give Percy a lot of hope about how this was going to go.

“It would probably work better if you could get up and walk around, but well…” he trailed off, but Percy knew exactly why that wasn’t possible. Just keeping his eyes open had been a struggle, and he was pretty sure if he tried to stand right now he was gonna black out.

“Yeah, sounds like a bad idea,” he agreed. Annabeth said nothing, just kept staring with her jaw clenched tight.

“I figured-- you know, you remembered Annabeth last time,” Will said, still sounding nervous, “And you guys have known each other for years, so if anything is going to jog your memory… well.”

“Okay,” Percy said, easily.

Annabeth remained silent.

“I’ll leave you guys alone,” Will said, looking like he absolutely couldn’t wait to get out of the room. He did a second later, slipping out the door and shutting it behind him.

Annabeth looked extraordinarily unhappy to be there. Any care that she had displayed for him when he first woke up was apparently gone. She said nothing as she looked at him with nothing but ice in her eyes.

He didn’t know why exactly she was so pissed-- it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember anything, and wouldn’t it be worse for him anyway? But she didn’t seem keen on speaking to him anytime soon, and Percy figured it was up to him to break the ice.

“So, um. Are you single?” Percy asked. It was dumb, sure, but he didn’t remember shit, and this girl was pretty and she seemed to care about him and well? Might as well shoot his shot.

Annabeth muttered something under her breath, something that sounded suspiciously like I’m going to kill you. Cool. Definitely did not make her hotter to him, not even a little bit.

“I’m not single,” she said, practically glaring at him.

“Got it. Sorry,” Percy said. For just a second her eyes ducked away, sadness replacing anger. But then she looked back up, and her previous expression was reinstated.

“Why don’t we just stick to you,” she said.

“Sure,” Percy said. He didn't want to make her mad again, because he had a feeling if that kept happening it would not end well for him. He wasn’t sure what could be worse than complete and total amnesia, but looking at Annabeth he was pretty sure she could think of something.

She took a deep breath, a little unsteadily.

“Your name is Percy,” she said, “I guess Will already told you that, though.”

Percy nodded. She moistened her lips, staring down at the ground.

“Okay. What else do you want to know?”

“Where are we?” Percy asked. It wasn’t his most urgent question, but it felt like a safer one to ask. Then again, from the look on Annabeth’s face, maybe that was a miscalculation. She was biting her lip, the anger in her expression softening slightly. It seemed to be replaced by something sad though, and Percy found he almost preferred the anger.

“It’s… a little hard to explain. But we’re at a camp. A summer camp. It’s-- it’s where we met.”

“Why are we here now?” Percy asked. Annabeth shrugged.

“We’re just visiting,” she said.

“Together?” Percy asked. She stared at him, swallowing heavily.

“Yeah. Together,” she said, though she was clearly unwilling to elaborate.

Okay then. Time for a new line of questioning. A safer line, one that hopefully wouldn’t put her on the verge of tears.

“What’s my favorite color?” he asked.

“Blue,” she said, instantly.

“Favorite food?”

“Anything blue,” she said, just as fast.

“I eat blue food?” Percy asked, confused. She smiled for the first time since he’d told her his memory was gone. It was small, but it still made his heart flutter.

“Yeah. It’s sort of an inside joke with you and your mom,” she said. The smile faded just as fast as it had come, but her answer had inadvertently given Percy more information than he’d expected.

“So I’m close to my mom?” Percy asked, unable to help it. Annabeth nodded again. She took a tentative step forward, sitting back down on the chair beside his bed.

“Who else?” he asked, without thinking. Annabeth frowned, a little confused.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean--” Percy started, realizing this might be a little too much too soon, but wanting to know so badly he couldn’t help but ask anyway, “I mean, who else am I close to?”

Annabeth didn’t answer for a long minute. She was looking down at the ground again, her hands gripping her own shoulders, arms shielding her chest. She seemed to be contemplating something, though what it was, Percy wasn’t sure.

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked that question. Maybe it was too personal-- with a start Percy realized that Annabeth was probably a pretty high priority for him, given the scant details he knew about their relationship, and him not knowing that intrinsically had to hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “Just forget it, tell me something else.”

She finally looked back up at him, though she still seemed upset and unsure.

“No, it’s fine,” she said, though she was clearly forcing her voice not to waver, “Like I said, you’re close to your mom, her name is Sally. You have a sister named Estelle and a brother named Tyson. And your best friend is--” she stumbled, but found herself again, “His name is Grover.”

Percy noticed that Annabeth’s own name was conspicuously absent from that list. Maybe he should keep his mouth shut, all things considered, but his curiosity got the best of him. He wanted to know this more than anything.

“What about you?” he asked, voice quiet.

It took her less time to answer than he expected, but she was still quiet for a minute.

“You asked me if I was single,” she said finally, eyes ducked down, a rosy blush growing in her cheeks, “And I said no because-- because we’re dating. We have been for a while.”

“Oh,” Percy said. He could feel his own face getting red, even though this was kind of great news-- or maybe not so great news, considering his stupid brain still couldn’t remember shit. But it still felt right, like a puzzle piece slotting into place. Of course he was dating her. That was just correct, an inalienable fact he felt dumb for not knowing, despite not knowing anything at all.

“Yeah,” she said, “But you don’t remember, so… so I don’t know anymore, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy said, and he felt it. He felt like an idiot, both for trying to flirt with her earlier, and for not putting the pieces together sooner. The hand holding probably should have given it away, at the very least.

To his surprise, Annabeth gave him a small smile, even though her eyes were a little red. She wiped them on her sleeve, clearly trying not to do it in an obvious way.

“Sorry, it’s just-- that’s so you,” she said, sniffling a little.

“What’s so me?” Percy asked. He felt stupid, oblivious, but she just smiled again, a touch wider this time.

“Apologizing for something that isn’t even your fault.”

“I really am sorry,” Percy said, and he felt worse with every word, “I want to remember, I do, it’s just-- all of it’s gone.”

“I know,” she said. She sounded defeated. “I guess it would be too much to ask for you to remember me twice, huh?”

She said it like a joke, but Percy could feel the real pain behind her words. He felt an ache in his chest, like a phantom pain he couldn’t quite place, something in him mirroring her own hurt. He wanted so badly to comfort her, but he didn’t know how.

Or maybe he did. His brain was a jumbled mess, but he did know the only things that had made him feel anything since he’d woken up had to do with her.

“I… I almost get flashes,” he admitted, glancing up at her again. She wasn’t quite meeting his eye, looking somewhere over his shoulder, but he continued anyway. “When you say or do things… It’s like my body knows what to feel but my mind doesn’t know why.”

She glanced up, her eyes finally meeting his own. They were still shining with tears, though not as intensely as before.

“Like how?” she asked, simply. Percy swallowed heavily, not exactly sure what to say. It was hard to describe, given he’d barely recognized his own feelings.

“Like… like when you left, before. I was upset but I didn’t know why. I didn’t know you but I knew… I knew that was supposed to hurt, somehow. And when Will told me about how I got hurt in the first place, how I was trying to keep the frisbee thing from hitting you-- that felt right, but I don’t know why.”

She had graduated to crying in earnest now, tears slipping out of the corner of her eyes and falling down her cheeks. Percy felt the inexplicable urge to reach out and brush them away, but he knew he couldn’t. And that hurt too for some reason, a hollow aching in his chest he couldn’t quite place even though the reason for it was standing right in front of him.

“And right now,” Percy continued, even though maybe he shouldn’t, “You’re upset and I just feel this urge to do something, and I can’t because I don’t know how.”

“Percy, please--” she said, still crying, her voice rough with tears. He didn’t know what she was begging for, but he couldn’t help his next words slipping out, like his tongue knew more what to do than his mind.

“I don’t know anything about me, but I know-- I know I love you. I can feel it. I’m not just saying it either, I swear I can feel it.”

“Percy,” she said again, her voice barely above a whisper this time.

“You have to help me, Annabeth. I don’t know what to do,” he said, and this time it was his turn for his voice to get thick, a lump in his throat obscuring his words.

“I--” she started, swallowing heavily, eyes welling with tears again, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Yes you do,” Percy said, and he was sure she did, something in him just knew, “You always do, don’t you?”

That felt right too, even if he couldn’t place why, but it seemed to mean more to her than to him. She stared at him, eyes wide and scared. She was so close now, close enough that he could see every freckle on her nose.

Annabeth looked so panicked that for a second a second, Percy thought she was going to hit him, but then she did the opposite. She leaned over and kissed him.

Her lips were soft and sweet, and she tasted like strawberries and salt. His lips seemed to know exactly what to do, moving against hers like they’d kiss her a thousand times-- and maybe they had. His hand moved, almost of its own accord to her hair, tangling in it, pulling her a fraction of an inch closer--

And then it hit him. The scent of her shampoo, lemony and sharp and familiar.

He gasped, not meaning to, but she pulled back, grey eyes wide.

“Percy?” she asked, hopeful even as she tried to hide it.

“Annabeth,” he said, trying not to panic as things started to float through his mind-- more than things, memories. Her face and her voice and her words, the feeling of her hand in his and her smile against his lips, it all started to flood back like it had never left.

“Are you--” she asked, her hands on his shoulders, gripping tight, too tight, but he didn’t even care.

“Annabeth,” he breathed, saying her name like a revelation, because it was, “You’re Annabeth Chase, you’re my girlfriend and an architect and you’re scared to death of spiders and you still sleep with a teddy bear--”

She cut him off at that last point, throwing her arms around him and hugging him harder than she ever had-- except for maybe that time she’d thought he was dead for two weeks and he’d crashed his own funeral. Percy hugged her back just as hard, because he actually remembered that.

It hadn’t all come back-- things were blurry, most things, actually. But Annabeth at least felt clear in his mind, a shining beacon welcoming the rest of his memories back. He was already starting to get a headache again, but he didn’t care. They would come back. And even if they didn’t-- he had her. That was enough.

She pulled back from her bone crushing embrace, keeping their faces so close their noses were almost touching. She seemed scared that if she pulled away he might too, even though he had no intention of doing so, physically or mentally.

“So you’re back? Really?” she asked, sounding scared to know the answer.

“Sort of,” Percy confirmed, wincing as he did. He really was starting to get a pounding headache. “I remember you. And bits and pieces of other things, but mostly you.”

Annabeth breathed a sigh of relief, closing her eyes for a long moment.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she whispered, her hands trailing up his neck, just barely scraping his hair.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he breathed. And he did know, now better than ever. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since he’d woken up without his memory, but he knew every minute of it had to have been hell for her.

Annabeth sighed, pulling back further, so he could see her whole face. Her eyes were still red from crying, and her cheeks were still flushed from their kiss. But he could see the barest traces of humor in her expression, a slight tug at the corner of her mouth where a smile was being repressed.

“What?” he asked, but she just shook her head.

“It’s nothing,” she said, but her smile had grown.

“Come on, I just had amnesia. You have to tell me.”

She laughed, a light tinkling sound. It was just on the edge of being hysterical, but she deserved it, after the day she’d been having.

“Fine. I was just thinking-- Hera couldn’t make you forget me but a glorified frisbee could?” Annabeth said.

“Hey, it was heavy!” Percy protested, but he couldn’t help but grin as he did. He would probably stay grinning for the rest of his life, actually.

“You’re such an idiot,” she breathed, pulling him into a hug again, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Percy said, hugging her back. And now he knew he did, in a permanent, tangible way.

There was still a lot missing, but he had the most important bits down. His name was Percy Jackson. He was twenty years old, and in college and a demigod, and lots of other things that would surely return with time.

And he loved Annabeth Chase more than anything in the world.

[cescalr]

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

Aww, thanks mate <3 I'm gonna count 'written' as 'finished' or we'd be here all day hemming and hawing about which ones are my favourite. <3 This narrows it down to 5 of 65 instead of 102, which... i think you'll understand why I needed to do that. Pls. Sanity. I need that. That's something I need to keep having. (Also, no repeat ships/fandoms, just to let my other works shine. Teen wolf has a major bias otherwise, with 40 of my fics being for that show)

In no particular order;

For When The Sunset Turns To Gold - Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Gen. Minor crossovers with Torchwood and Harry Potter, but mostly negligible. More about the Pevensies post-film lives (because they DO NOT DIE, BOOKS, THANKS) than anything else.

To note, I am incredibly proud of this fic! I love the feeling it's got. I was very emotional when I wrote it because I'd just watched Prince Caspian and got reminded of the very sticky ends each of these people meet and i was like NOPE OKAY and wrote this to make myself feel better. I'm pretty sure I cried when I was writing it. Actually, I'm tearing up rn. Onto the next one very quickly-

Keeping This. - Teen Wolf, Stiles/Theo, post-series AU. Soulmate AU, too.

Started in my Journey Across the Dimensions fic/let collection, finished here. This one was interesting because of how long it got, lol, for a one-shot. I ended up using it for my Steoday fic, and I'm still really happy with it. I just think this is some solid character work, and some extra-solid character dynamics work. I'm not so good with the building up romance thing, and I think this is one of the times where I did an actually good job with it, instead of just an ok one. Trying to get more comfortable establishing relationships than having them already established, since that's what I prefer to read anyway esp for non-canon fare. Anyway, I'm pleased with this one. As an AU i think it works, and i think it works more for being pretty canon-compliant. It's simple and it's easy and it's actually quite soft, which is rare for me. Especially when it comes to these two fellas. Stiles and Theo as written by me are... rarely soft. So this is a nice reprieve. Especially since I think I did a good job keeping them accurate despite the sweetness. I'm also pretty sure I managed to keep the tense consistent! But don't quote me on that. Same for all of these, actually. (Working on it, working on it...)

A Muggle Cliché (thank you for making me write this, lol) - Harry Potter, Ron/Harry, coffee shop/squib!harry/no voldemort AU! (Also background Dumbledore time travelled AU, but shhhh not important nobody ic knows that. The fic is fluffy and happy and great and the shadowy background history of the AU is not even remotely addressed.) I am halfway through writing a technical-sequel to this fic that's Cho/Ginny, stay tuned! (I know it's taking forever and the request came in before Easter, but to the person who sent in the prompt, I promise i'm literally like, halfway there. Should be done by the end of summer, at max.)

Obviously you know this one, since you made me write it, lol. Thank you for the prompt, again! I think this is my strongest ronarry excluding your other prompt, but I mean, like, non-canon ronarry is hard for me because i'm super attached to their canon selves, so this was a work in characterisation where I could see how an AU like this would change them without them being totally different people who we don't care about because it's like, in name only shit (which I'm never fond of, as a rule). So, yeah! This is one of the most saccharine things I've written. Good lord. Did pay you back for that, though.... sorry.

Somebody to Someone. - Slaughterhouse Rulez, Don/Willoughby, post-movie AU. Thank the entire Slaughterhouse Rulez discord for this one lol like a few years back. Man, how time flies... I was 17 when the film came out.... i'm 21.... gosh... anyway fluffy Christmastime goodness.

Yeah, I mean, I said it there. fluffy christmastime goodness. Don't blame that part on me, though, I had a lot of help writing this one. I'm proud of the parts I wrote and I'm super grateful for the help from the discord, you guys are great! So I guess this is my first fic that's a collaboration (that's actually a fic - we won't talk about the other one...) so, uh, yeah! Awesome! Collabs are fun. Working with other people on a fic can be a great experience. And I'm very happy with the outcome! Slaughterhouse Rulez is one of my favourite movies. If you take anything from me, it's that you should watch it and also join the discord server. It's a fandom of like 15 people. We need mooooorrrrreeeeeeeeeee-

In Another Universe (Maybe We Were Happy.) - Assassin's Creed, Desmond/Clay, 5 aus in which they (eventually, at least) get together romantically, and one in which they don't. Obviously varies wildly between angst and not angst, as is my M.O. To note I am working on that other AC fic (the soulmate au one) but it's taking forever bc i need to replay ac3. Dumb dumb moment here. Literally forgot the plot *facepalm.* Anway, somehow hoping these 44k words are enough to tide over the literal years people have been waiting for me to finish that other fic... ack.

This one is super nostalgic which is weird since it's not even that old, but I'm really fond of it. One of my first long-fics that i actually finished, which is also cool. Each chapter is it's own AU, so really I'm not sure if this is a fic per se or more a fic anthology, but either way, I'd never done the 5 + 1 format before and I thought it'd be cool. It was a good way for me to work through my characterisation of these guys, who I'd not written before, and my thoughts on the AC universe, which I'd also not written before. I think it's some solid writing and it's got one of my best AUs and romances, in chapter 2, with the coffee shop assassins AU where the Templars are Starbucks. Yeah, I know, I think something about coffee must trigger my romantic sensibilities which are usually stuck somewhere else in hibernation. Or fear. Or something. I'm bad at romance, anyway. The last chapter is some good Angst and I think some of my best angst, so there's that. It's a mite bit confusing if you don't know AC, though, but then that's the case for most fanfics of media. (I've read fanfics of media I've never consumed, though, that made perfect sense to me, so...) Anyway. Uh, yeah. Love this one. Very fond of it. Love my boys <3 Claysmond probably in the top ten for my otps. May even be top five, depending on the day. (Today? Yes.) Desmond and Clay are definitely in my top ten characters, anyway. I could not tell you where they sit, though.

Cheating to add Ginny Weasley, Veteran of War, Time Traveller, Defeater of Dark Lords, and Dark, but Good., which is a series and not a fic, and I don't think the components work as well on their lonesome. Technically hinny but for the first two fics he's dead. (actually, he's still dead in the last fic, it's just that ginny is as well. Not a spoiler.) Basically, well, read the series title: she time travels, she kills voldy, she's a bit fucked up and she's done some fucked up shit but she's still Ginny Weasley, and she's a good person at heart. Anyway, love these fics. Might've cried a little when writing. Might not. Can't prove shit you weren't there! (I did. I definitely did.) Anyway. Mostly Gen with Minor/Background Relationships. Contains Fantastic Beasts canon up to the second movie and kinda including, but veers very AU, and written before the third (which I wouldn't have acknowledged anyway, since i'm not planning on ever viewing it with mine eyes). Uh, yeah. (Premise of this fic series could actually lead to other fics/aus stemming from it..... given how Ginny gets back in the past in the first place. Sooooo that's fun!)

Thanks again!

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

It’s Just a Movie: Part 25 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: slight angst, violence

Word Count: 3613

School has started for me!! I was able to get the past couple of chapters out despite the first days, but with a work/school combo I’m gonna have zero time to write!! Basically, the next (and final chapters) are gonna be slower to get uploaded, but they’ll get posted soon!!!

You couldn't believe this was happening. Never in your life did you think you'd be in this situation in the first place, but you never thought that you'd be leading the Frogs and the Emerson's down into the cave either. You had made an agreement before you'd even parked Paul's bike. You weren't there to fight, you were there to talk. The Frogs, and Michael, wouldn't believe what you said until they heard it from the boys themselves. No matter how much you tried to convince them. This definitely wasn't part of the plan, but it was better than the ones the Frogs wanted to go with. You saw them clamor out of the car, and then Edgar grabbed Alan. He said,

"Weapons check." And then he was twirling his brother around to grab his pack and check him. You walked over, and grabbed Edgar, and Alan, by the back of his pack, saying,

"Woah, you are not going down there with those stakes." You knew that, peace talk or not, the boys would freak the second they saw the stakes. Especially Marko. The last thing you needed was the boys seeing that the first second they woke up. It'd be a bloodbath, and it'd be hard to defend the boys' case after that. It was Edgar that said,

"Then, we're not going down there at all." And Alan was quick to second him,

"For all we know, this could be an ambush. We are not going into enemy territory unarmed." And you fought the urge to roll your eyes from all the military talk. You sighed, defeated, and looked over when you heard Michael say,

"I don't want you going down there." Sam had already helped him out of the car, and a piece of you softened when you heard Sam reply,

"Well, I'm going." You knew, horror movie or not, their relationship was the backbone of the movie. None of this would be happened if they didn't care about eachother as much as they did, and you didn't interrupt as Michael said,

"Look, this isn't a comic book, Sam. These guys are brutal killers." And you felt the urge to almost agree with him. They were, but, as far as they knew, they wouldn't be if they killed Max. Sam quickly replied,

"So are the Frog brothers." And you looked at the two little brunettes. You watched as Edgar said,

"Check me." And Alan immediately went for the stakes. You scratched the back of your neck. As goofy as they seemed, you knew, unfortunately, that was true. But, you also knew that you weren't going to let it happen. Not this time.

"Look, who would you rather go down there with? Them or me?" To you, it was an easy choice. It seemed like this was the only thing you and Michael could agree on.

"If something happens down there, I'm not gonna have the strength to protect you." And you swallowed. You knew what line was coming, and you had to stop yourself from saying something about it.

"Well, this time I'm gonna protect you, bud. Even though you're a vampire, you're still my brother." You turned away, trying not to let the words affect you. Sam was a sweet kid, and, while you loved your boys, you weren't going to let them do anything to him. And, if you could help it, the Frogs. You looked back and snatched the knife from Edgar's hands.

"Wave this around, and I'm not gonna be able to stop the boys from making assumptions. Keep your stuff in your pack, and stay behind me. Got it?" You told them, and the brothers looked between eachother. They didn't seem pleased to be taking orders from you, and you sighed again as you decided to pocket the blade instead of giving it back to the boy. Really, they shouldn't even have this many knives anyways. You thought. You were going to need to come up with a good explanation for this, or else the Frogs weren't going to be the only ones getting chewed out. You let Edgar turn to Michael and say,

"Listen, just so you know, if you try to turn on us," He said, directly pointing at you. "Or vamp out in any way, then I'll stake you without even thinking twice about it." He said, his finger directed towards Michael this time. He added, "Both of you." And you frowned at the boy. You noted the change in dialogue, but you supposed it was a good sign. You were changing things, changing the movie. Hopefully that meant you'd changed enough to guarantee the boys' safety. But you knew that if he went around making threats like that, the boys were going to give him something to worry about. It was Sam that said,

"Chill out, Edgar." And you agreed. Everyone was going to need to chill, or else this was going to go sideways fast. 

"Yeah. C'mon." Edgar said. As you followed the Frogs down the steps, you heard Michael say,

"Where'd you say you met these guys?" And you tried to keep up with the brothers in front of you. The Frogs were supposed to lead you down into the cave, but you quickly slipped past them. You hopped down the stairs with ease, having months of practice navigating the creaking, falling apart stairway. When you went to the cave, you walked in it as one would walk in their own house. 

"Holy shit!" Edgar exclaimed, and you didn't comment. That was pretty much everyone's reaction, even yours.

"Vampire hotel." Alan commented, and you rolled your eyes as you walked ahead of them. As soon as the Frogs saw Star, you knew what was coming. You tried to grab them each by the back of their packs, but Edgar was already saying,

"Here's one. C'mon, let's stake her, man!" Michael had already seen the way they'd rushed for her, and he quickly tried his best to protect her in his weakened state.

"Don't you touch her!" He shouted, and the boys slapped away your hands. You let them go as Edgar said,

"C'mon. Vampires have such rotten tempers." And, they were running off. They ran around like two excited kids in a candy store, seeming to forget the object of their mission as soon as they were confronted with their threat. It seemed that getting them off course was going to be harder than you thought, and you quickly put two fingers in your mouth to let out a loud whistle. Like a pair of excited puppies, their heads snapped towards you. You could hear Star murmuring behind you, but you didn't know if it was your whistle or Michael that had awoken her.

"You two! Sit down over there and stay put. Sam," You said, turning towards him. You noticed that Michael was already going for Laddie, aiming to get him out of the cave after Star told him to. While you were here to talk, you didn't imagine the boys would be too upset if the two half's were gone. Well, at least, most of them wouldn't. "Watch them, okay? I'm gonna get the boys-"

"I'm coming with you." Sam quickly said, and you found a small smile developing on your face. He looked so earnest. So willing to protect. You reached out to touch his shoulder, lowering your voice. "I know you want to, Sam, but I need you to keep an eye on the Frogs, okay? If they follow me, I could be in deep shit." You told him, and, in a second, his face seemed to change. He understood what you were trying to suggest, quickly nodding. You had figured out that they apparently thought worse of your boys, way worse than you'd ever intended, but, if it helped, you were going to play into it. Plus, you did need to talk to the boys alone. 

You walked through the halls of the cave, slipping into a hallway different than the ones the boys had taken in the movie. You wandered around for a bit, listening for the sound of footsteps and purposely taking a few wrong turns just so you'd have to double back and would bump into the boys if they'd decided to follow you. You finally went to the cave where the boys slept, and you looked up to see them hanging from the ceiling. The five of you had talked about them sleeping in your room instead, but you'd pointed out that them being on the floor would make them far too easy targets. So, their room really was the best bet when it came to keeping themselves safe. The only suggestion you'd made was that they all gathered away from the ladder. Then, there'd be no way the Frogs could reach them. They seemed to have listened, and Paul had even taken Markos place as the closest to the ladder. Even then, he was still out of arms reach. You sighed, tapping your foot as you tried to think about how you'd get them down. Touching the boys was the only real way to wake them up, as they were all deep sleepers. You guessed vampirism had that as a side-effect. You cringed as you thought of one way you could wake them up, but you didn't hesitate to reach into your bag for the knife you'd swiped from Edgar. You decided on a small cut to the tip of your finger. It took a moment, but, the second the smell of blood hit them, you knew. Paul's eyes were the first to flick open, and he reached for the blonde besides him. As soon as Marko was awake, and they all knew it wasn't him that was bleeding, Paul fell from the railing. He grabbed your finger, bringing it to his mouth as he quickly said,

"What'd you do this for?" He licked the blood trailing down your finger and sucked on the wound for a moment, while the others fell from the railing in a circle around you. You answered with a,

"Well, I figured this would wake you up." And he hummed around the cut. You'd been right. Blood was a sure-fire way to get any of them to wake up. They seemed confused, but relieved. You weren't screaming, yelling, warning them that the Frogs were coming. Marko was bouncing on the balls of his feet, a smile growing on his face. He wasn't laying on the floor with a stake out of his chest. As far as they knew, it had worked. 

"What happened?" David asked, and you nearly had to yank your finger away from Paul when you felt the graze of teeth. He gave you a teasing smile, and you looked at the platinum haired blonde to do the same. A smile you only used when you were trying to get him to consider something. He narrowed his eyes.

"Well-" You started, but Marko grabbed your arm. He stopped you, and his eyes flicked towards the entrance. You took an inhale, and you mentally said, Shit. 

"They followed you." He said, his voice hollow and his eyes wide. You could see a speck of fear in his eyes, replacing the relief,  and you had to grab Paul before he went to do anything stupid, like try to walk into sunlight. They had a look in their eyes that you'd, luckily, never had to see before. Well, at least, in real life. You recognized it from the opening scene, when David had looked ready to kill that surf nazi. And again when he'd tried to grab Sam. And when Paul had tried to kill the Frogs. And when Dwayne has grabbed Sam. Hell, perhaps you'd seen it more than you thought. 

"I went to the Emerson's, and I brought them here-" You started, but that was as far as you got before David snapped,

"You what?" He asked, and you internally cringed at the tone of voice and how the room shook from the loudness of his voice. Yeah, you were in trouble. Rightfully so when you saw the look of betrayal in the shortest boys eyes. They moved for a second, and you already knew what they were thinking. You had betrayed them. Sold them out. You were going to kill them. Before they could do anything rash, you said,

"I told them that you want Max gone. It was the only way to get them to stand down, and they're here to talk." You said, and the boys stared at you in shock. You went silent, refusing to tell them anything else that may dig your grave any deeper. They stared at you, and David looked like he was about to have an aneurysm for a moment. He was pissed. But he was silent, and you could see that he was thinking.

"They're here to...talk?" David asked, disbelief clear in his voice, and you nodded. The boys stood behind him, flanking him. If it had been your first couple of days in their world, you would've been terrified. But you knew your boys, and you knew that they, at least, wouldn't do anything without David's word. "All of them?" David asked, and you nodded. Then, quickly, you corrected yourself.

"Michael is still taking Star and Laddie up to the car, but Sam and the Frogs…" You said, letting yourself trail off. They were silent, obviously not willing to fill up the silence for you. Even when you casted a glance over to Dwayne, who was seeming to try his best not to be effected by the inevitable. "They just wanna hear it from you. I told them what we planned, the whole turning back to a human thing, but Michael wasn't convinced. He thought that you guys had to be lying or have some sort of ulterior motive so- So, I gave them one." You said. The one time you needed to bank on Michael being stupid, he hadn’t been. So, you’d told him something closer to the truth. They did want their father-figure gone, just not for the same reason why. They wanted him gone because they hated him, despised him. The others thought they wanted him gone because he'd turned them, which was true, and because it would turn them back into being human. "They just wanna hear that you won't try to stop them from killing Max." You said, trying to get rid of the silence once more. All of the boys were quiet, and they were exchanging glances. You guessed that they were either waiting for David to decide, or if they were somehow communicating without you. You knew that you were just supposed to correct them and push them in the right direction, but, even then, would that have worked? What would've stopped them from hunting the boys down after they killed their sire? If anything, this was the best course of action, and you forced yourself to believe that. Finally, after a moment, David said,

"Where are they?" You had to bring the Frogs, and Sam, back into the cave simply because of the sunlight pouring inside the main room. You'd found them snooping around the cave, and you had to tell them to put down Dwayne's skateboard. You hated it, leading the boys through the tunnels that you knew so well. Leading them straight to the boys. To where they slept. Your mind replayed the look of betrayal you'd seen so clearly in Markos eyes. It made every step feel like you were trudging through wet concrete. But this was how things had to happen, and this was the only way to save them. Hopefully, it would save them. 

For a moment, you considered the fact that, maybe, despite agreeing not to, you may be leading the boys behind you to their deaths. It made a lump develop in your throat, and you prayed to whatever god you could think of that everything would turn out fine. You took them into the room, where the boys were standing near the far wall of the cave. The room was cramped, but you had long ago gotten used to the smell. Your boys towered over Sam and the Frogs, even if the tallest of the bunch, Dwayne, was leaning against the cave wall with his arms crossed. Paul was standing partially in front of Marko, the two huddled as far away as they could get. David stood away from the wall, the closest to the humans. Almost acting as a block. He glared down at the Frogs, then at Sam. Finally, his eyes shifted to you. "Well?" He asked. He didn't sound happy. He sounded almost antsy. Impatient. As if he wanted this over with. You didn't blame him.

The whole thing seemed to go by in a blur. Threats had been thrown on both sides, and you'd had to toss yourself in the middle of an altercation more than once. Edgar had muttered something about staking you for being a "traitor to your race" when you'd asked if they trusted you, and Paul had nearly exploded. He was practically vibrating as you pushed back on his chest, shouting to get his attention and to get him to calm down. You hadn't even noticed that Dwayne had already grabbed Edgar, and was holding him by his shirt until you heard the young boy start to yell. You'd managed to tear the boy out of his hands and you'd ended up screaming at both parties to knock it off. Finally, it was decided that most of the boys couldn't handle this sort of confrontation. So, the Frogs were put on timeout on one side of the inner cave, with three of your boys on the other. David and Sam stood in the middle, with you besides them to act as neutral ground. Well, as neutral as you could be. 

"So, if we kill Max, you'll go back to being human?" Sam asked, and you heard a murmur from behind him. Your head snapped to the Frogs, fire behind your eyes that got them to zip it for at least a moment. David replied,

"That's what we think." He said, and Sam furrowed his brow. That wasn't what you told them, but, David knew that lying to them completely wouldn't be well received when Max was dead. But, if they didn't know for sure, that was a different story. Plus, the look you gave him after he said it was definitely helping him sell it. From behind him, Edgar said,

"That's not good enough." But, this time, it was a snarling growl that shut them up. It had come from the smallest of the boys. Marko looked completely on edge and ready to snap. You supposed he would be, since Edgar had been the one to kill him. Sam looked over his shoulder, whispering,

"Cool it, Edgar." And you had to hand it to the kid. While he was obviously scared shitless, he seemed to be the most reasonable of the three. And the most gullible. After another moment, he said, "Even if you don't, you swear not to try to kill us? Or stop us from killing Max?" And David almost looked amused. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he glanced at you for a moment. He, now that he'd had a moment to process, seemed to find this situation weirdly hilarious. Or, maybe, it was just Sam.  "Well?" Sam pressed, copying what David has asked in the beginning of their talk. David said,

"We swear. Cross my heart and hope to get staked." He even did the motion of crossing his heart. From behind, you could hear Alan mumbling,

"Oh, you will." And you were this close to letting the boys have free range. You didn't say anything, not when David opened his mouth again to speak,

"But, you have to swear that you won't come after us. Even if we don't get turned back." He said, and an eruption of protests were heard from the Frogs. They were silenced by a single glare from David, who's face shifted into one of a monster. You could tell it scared the boys half to death, to the point where they both seemed to fall back against the wall. He changed his face back before he glanced back at the youngest Emerson. Sam had nearly fallen back, but you'd caught him by the arm. It took him a minute to steady himself and find his voice, and he straightened his blue cardigan sweater right before he said,

"You'll leave us alone? Mike alone?" Sam asked, and you watched the way David's face softened for a moment. It seemed that he had the same effect on him that he had on you. David gave him a nod, and then Sam sighed. He held out his hand, saying, "Deal." And, despite the Frogs protests, David was quick to take it. They shook on it, and then David's eyes lifted to the Frogs. He spoke again, saying,

"So, how are you going to kill him?" And Sam was quick to give up the information that his mother had a date with him that night. Tonight seemed as good as a night as any to get it over with. When Alan sarcastically asked,

"Why, you have any ideas?" David smiled. It was handsome, as handsome as the first smile he'd given you. Though, it seemed to have a chilling effect on the younger boys trapped with them in the cave. David's voice was almost charming as he said,

"We have a few."

[pallasperilous]

Boneless Wings

 {AO3 version}

So, blah blah blah, it’s their standard-issue disaster: pack of dumbass witches (always with the dumbass witches. Where do they find the time for this shit? Somebody get these women signed up for a Peloton subscription or a macramé class or a vibrator of the month club, seriously, whatever it takes—), ancient curse, Castiel being the actual angel of stepping in it, nobody cares. 

The point is, two hundred and forty-one hours of binge-worthy drama later, Dean and Cas are living in a semi-detached just a short thirty-minute commute to somewhere equally lame, Castiel has two literal-ass wings, and yes, Susan, they kiss now. 

The neighbors are weirdly cool with it. 

For those of you perving along at home, Dean could absolutely provide a list of the hundred or so ways that having a boyfriend* with giant fucking actual wings is super hot and/or awesome.

This is not that list.

(*you can just shut right the fuck up , Sam, because it’s either this or Dean will start saying lover. And nobody needs that. Nobody wants that.)

1.  Bird mites. Holy shit. 

 2.  Sharing a bathroom. The shower curtain rod, and consequently the security deposit, are early casualties. The medicine cabinet follows swiftly behind. Shower hijinks are not even an option.

 3.  Dean comes home one day from a gig and there is a giant plastic green turtle in the backyard. A closer inspection reveals that the turtle is actually a mule for about half a truck bed of industrial dust ‘n grit. It is, in fact, a kiddie sandbox. Dean points out that they do not, in fact, have a small child (FINGERS CROSSED), so...?

Cas then earnestly shows him an entire playlist of exotic birdy dust bath videos on Youtube. 

Dean then earnestly shows him the garden hose. 

4.  The down just gets, like...everywhere. EVERYWHERE. How many times have Sam and Dean practically sold their kidneys for a single angel feather for some dumb spell to solve some pointless Occult McProblem? And now Dean is picking them out of his damn teeth every morning. (No, gross, not because of... Jesus, no, that is not a thing.)

On the upside of this one, Dean finally has an excuse to buy a Dyson, which he’s secretly always thought looked awesome. It is. 

 5.  When Dean is scraping out the umpteenth canister of fluff he jokingly suggests they use some of it to supplement the tragically flaccid down comforter currently shaming their bed, and Castiel pitches an existential fucking sulk. Dean wants to experience happiness again, so he does not point out that it get ass-bitingly cold here this time of year, and decent bedding is not exactly inexpensive, and the Dyson kind of maxed them out on household purchases.

But whatever.

 6.  Castiel is indulging in what Dean thinks of as a sky pout when he flies right into a head-on with li’l Timmy NextDoor’s new Christmas surveillance drone. It dings the shit out of one of Cas’s left primary feathers (the scientific term is “those big motherfuckers”), which apparently hurts like a bitch. Cas is grounded for a few weeks after that and is cutely pathetic about it and at first Dean is absolutely down to kiss it better. By the end, Dean is almost ready to strangle Cas with his own necktie, but he has learned a lot of surprisingly interesting stuff about ancient Mesopotamia, like that it was super horny.

 7.  After the snow melts, Dean starts finding shit on the front step with the morning paper. It’s not even a good newspaper; Cas signed them up for the local fish-wrapper (or maybe it was Sam, before he fled for the hills— he occasionally breaks out in a  “support local journalism” rash). The crossword puzzle is insulting, but the paper does at least syndicate Carolyn Hax, whom Dean secretly suspects of being an absolute wildcat in the sack, so he grudgingly expends the calories to bring it in every morning. 

Anyway, at first the stuff he discovers crapping up the welcome mat is just shiny bits of trash — couple granola wrappers, some MGD pull-tabs, a few field-stripped twisty-ties. Probably just windblown, and he tosses it in the garbage can. 

Then a couple weeks in, things start getting...grisly? It escalates real slowly, from a variety platter of mouse bits to squirrel à la power line and then half of a dry-aged raccoon and an opossum that has recently graduated from playing dead to professional dead-being. The neighborhood crows obviously love that their front step is now a roadkill café; Dean has to bat increasing numbers of them away with the kitchen broom in order to relocate their horrible snack to the edge of the nearest storm drain.

Then one morning there are like twenty crows and they’re in just the cutest little football huddle-up around what turns out to be a human fucking finger with a retro-fun mood ring still on the knuckle (it’s feeling: Sad) and Dean fully loses his shit. 

Cas hears him freaking out and comes whomping out of the garage ready to, whatever, flap somebody to death maybe, but as soon as he establishes that Dean doesn’t need anything more than a fresh pair of boxers, he de-poofs a bit and assesses the whole human finger/crows situation in his usual infuriatingly unrushed way. The crows had mostly bounced up to the cable line over the house, safely out of brooming range, but one by one they start to drop down and hippity-hop back towards the world’s tiniest crime scene.

If Dean were five percent less freaked he’d be tempted to go inside and find out how much of a dent he can make in a six-pack before Castiel finally dings and spits out his results, but he isn’t, so he just stands there in silence clutching the broom like it’s a shotgun.

Eventually Cas says “hm,” and then he looks at the crows and makes some noises that sound like a spoon caught in a garbage disposal, and the crows make some scrawps and chuks back, and then one of them delicately noodges the tip of dead finger with its beak and then hippity hops back a foot or two, bows, and then they all fly away over the shitty little beige duplex across the street like they’re running ten minutes late to an important bird appointment.

Castiel stands up (Dean reflexively backs up into the doorway, as this involves Cas bomfing out his wings a bit for ballast and Dean has caught a blow to the nuts on more than one occasion), dusts off his goddamn slacks, pulls a plastic evidence baggie out of thin goddamn air or maybe his socks, and casually bags the finger like they’re doing a standard FBI wheeze. “So what,” Dean says, as Cas diligently zips the baggie, “the fuck?”

“Oh,” Cas says, blinking in surprise that Dean is still there and interested, “they think I’m their god.”

Dean kind of stares back at him, the six feet of dude and like sixteen feet of bird, and thinks sure, okay, but his face must still be stuck on “Tippi Hedren attic scene” because Cas puts a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder and adds “Don’t worry. I’ve told them I don’t require further offerings, and I reassured them that you’re my consort and were simply jealous of other potential mates.”

It takes Dean two weeks to come up with a response to that, but by then it’s become evident that no bird is ever going to shit on the Impala again, so he decides to just chalk it up in the win column and move on.

You know. The family business.

8.  No matter how tightly he folds them, Cas can’t fit his wings through the definitely-not-up-to-code doorway of the wood-paneled family rec room in the basement, so Dean claims it as his man cave and dubs it the “No Fly Zone.” 

Castiel doesn’t find this funny, but Dean really only uses it to fold laundry. 

 9.  Transpo is an obvious issue. Cas can almost stuff himself into the Impala if he sort of reverse-cowgirls the back seat, but then the wingtips smoosh up against the windshield and Dean’s visibility is approximately zip. And, sure, Cas could fly himself anywhere they really needed to go, he’s basically a Chevy Of The Air, but sometimes it’s raining, and the seraph Castiel — Shield of God, Heavenly Soldier of the Lord, multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, will smell like a wet fucking chicken for days afterward. Febreze does not help.

Dean spends a few nauseating weeks contemplating the purchase of — and here he learns that the human gag reflex can be conditioned, but never truly eradicated — a convertible. Once Cas brings up the possibility of a minivan or perhaps a station wagon (he’s taken to studying family motor vehicles with all the intensity of a birder with a life list) and Dean makes him sleep on the couch.

Dean gets his own living room rotation after he shows Cas a Craigslist posting for a very reasonably priced horse trailer. Castiel points out that it’s used and Dean notes that neither of them is exactly mint in original packaging either. Castiel points out that he’s not a horse, and after a few necessary but admittedly unoriginal jokes, Dean pulls up a website with an exhaustive photographic tutorial on how to convert a horse trailer “for the safe and sanitary transport of ostriches, emus, and/or cassowaries.” Cas points out that he’s not an ostrich, emu, and/or cassowary, and Dean counters that he clearly isn’t, because an emu would probably show a little more gratitude, and that’s how Dean learns that the couch has a broken spring under the left cushion. The transpo issue remains unresolved.

 10.  Dean keeps a pair of shop-grade safety goggles by his side of the bed. It’s not the sexiest look, but it turns out feathers are stabby as hell when encountered at a particular angle. Cas can do the healy thing, of course, but they learn the hard way that cornea perforation is not really a mood enhancer. On the bright side, Castiel accidentally corrects Dean’s incipient presbyopia, which means Dean doesn’t have to hold the newspaper at arm’s length anymore when he’s idly speculating what Carolyn Hax looks like below the neck. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

 11.  You’d think that, when you’re coming down from a time-limited but incurable curse that makes you feel like every cell of your body has its own cute little individual headcold — because you missed a hex bag due to the fact that you were preparing your legal response to Sam turning up to the hunt wearing a goddamn hair scrunchy, as if he were fresh off the set of a very special episode of Clarissa Explains It All — anyway, you’d think that being wrapped in the warm embrace of an angel’s wings would be nice. 

But you would be wrong, because apparently your boyfriend has been out communing with the bees again, and those feathers pick up ragweed pollen like it’s their goddamn job, and guess what else angels can’t cure? Dean will take Motherfucking Seasonal Allergies for 600, Alex. 

12a.  One of the neighbors has that homesteading hippie brain disease that drives an otherwise normal-seeming person to brew their own beer and raise a bunch of chickens despite living within five hundred yards of a fully functioning Hy-Vee. There’s a week where one of the wee little velociraptors seems to be processing some kind of trauma because it starts yelling at dawn and keeps going until well past the hour that swearing is allowed on network TV. 

When Dean finally hammers on the front door the next afternoon the neighbor apologizes with some extremely nasty home-brew (HIPPIES) and some absolutely devastating weed (HIPPIES!) and explains that “Ginger is going through a rough molt” and then he kind of nods his head towards Dean’s side of the fence where Cas is futzing around in the squash plants and stage whispers (this is a direct quote) “You know how they get.”

Dean is about to rip the dude a new one for comparing his immortal space-kaiju lover to a fucking Australorp yard pullet when Castiel pops his head up over the white pickets and breezily contributes “Bad molt, yes, those are terrible, Dean can tell you all about how insufferable I am those weeks,” and sometimes Dean just doesn’t know why he even tries.

 12b.  The less said about angel molt, the better. 

Seriously, the freakin’ eyes-on-his-hands naked mole rat dude from, whatsit, Pan’s Labyrinth of Subtitles, would run screaming from this shit. 

 13.  There’s a 4th of July BBQ Potluck Block Party and Dean’s inability to stand idly by while good meat is abused ( shut up Sam ) means he winds up manning the grill and dismissing the pretenders to set some strictly inedible things on fire. Cas hangs out next to him and uses his flappers to kinda whupf the smoke away from Dean’s eyes now and then, which rules. It’s actually a pretty chill event until Sharon and Don From Number 4267, The Green House With The White Trim, turn up with a giant Pyrex full of naked, still-marinating teriyaki wings. 

Sharon And Don look down at their wings and then up at Castiel and then down at the wings and then up at Castiel and they are clearly teetering on the edge of a Midwestern politeness failure-based nervous breakdown. But then Cas, smooth as a margarine commercial, gently takes the dish from Sharon’s frozen hands, examines the contents for a silent moment, and says “it’s alright. They weren’t personal friends.”

He gets an extra burger for that one.

 14.  Cas keeps absent-mindedly trying to groom Dean — who, in case it still needs to be said at this point, possesses zero-point-zero feathers of his own — so he goes after Dean’s hair, instead. Dean has to stop him after his second hour of trying to straighten out a cowlick. “I don’t understand how you can steer properly with this deformity,” Cas says, as if it’s a genuine miracle that Dean isn’t constantly careening over ottomans like Dick Van Dyke. He’s even more horrified by Dean’s (frankly minimal) use of hair gel. “Jesus, Cas, it’s not like I’m drinking it,” he says, but then one time they have an epic make-out session shortly after Dean performs his masculine beauty rituals and there’s some smearage of various types of Product (tm) on the flappy areas. 

And, sonuvabitch, for the next six hours Cas is spirographing around the house like he has a heavenly inner ear infection, and he only stops veering into the doorframes after Dean wipes down every. Single. Feather. With mineral oil and about eighteen clean shop cloths. Dean switches to something called hair wax, which costs thirty zillion times more per ounce and makes him smell vaguely like church, but is a lot less gloppy. The things we do for love.

 15.  Seating inside the house is a bit of a conundrum, too. Cas can kind of flop his wings out to the sides if he sits in the middle of the couch, but then Dean’s stuck on the recliner, which is basically in the next county. Bar stools are disastrously tippy, Dean’s lower back and hips have not endured mumble-mumble years of hunting just to be subjected to a damn beanbag chair, and, after a brief flurry of optimistic excitement, Dean determines that they’d have to take the front door off to get a massage chair in. He finds a swing online that if, he can get the hardware properly installed in the crossbeam, is rated for up to 500 pounds, so he texts Cas the URL so he can check out the specs. After half an hour he writes back —

CASTIEL: Dean

CASTIEL: I believe this swing is intended for sexual congress.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: I can infer from the ellipsis that you have spent several minutes attempting to draft a response.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: Dean

DEAN: it’s multipurpose

  16 . On the plus side, though, big-ass wings make for a pretty good drying rack. He can get every sock in the house laid out on those suckers in a single round and, one episode of Dr. Sexy later, they’re perfectly dry and toasty warm, without any of the pair-busting casualties Dean has learned to expect from the apparently socknivorous dryer in the basement. 

Dean assumes it’s just the product of good air circulation and body heat until he realizes that he hasn’t had to toss a pair for being too worn out in...maybe six months? So he asks Cas “Are your wings... healing the socks” and after an entire Abbott and Costello routine centering around heal versus heel, Dean determines that the answer is: yes, his boyfriend’s wings are channeling the almighty power of Heaven to magically repair the socks Dean buys at Target in twelve-pack bags. On sale.

This is actually kind of sexy, if Dean is being perfectly honest, so, you know what? It doesn’t belong on this list.

 16.  So nobody really freaks out or bursts into tears or calls the news or the FBI or anything when Cas goes out in public with him, which Dean is secretly a little disappointed about, because come on. (Maybe giant wings just reads as a gay thing? Was there an episode of Will and Grace about this that Dean missed back when he was ass deep in wendigos or something?)

But no. Dudes tend to just glance at them across the Home Depot parking lot, throw them the Mutual Dude Acknowledgement Nod, and say some shit like “Comic-con,” or “nice anime” in a knowing tone. Then they go back to rolling their carts full of gaskets or hammers or whatever back to their mom’s station wagon. 

Little girls tend to go googly-eyed — Castiel seems to fall into the same category as a Disney princess, despite the stubble and the drabcore wardrobe, and Dean can’t count the number of times some mom has approached Dean at the grocery store (like he’s Castiel’s manager?? Which, okay...yeah, actually) and asked if they do birthday parties. The money would actually be pretty tempting if Dean weren’t five thousand percent sure that Cas would get them both arrested by launching into an anatomy lesson about duck sex or how God is a loser who favors relaxed fit jeans and Wild Turkey.

The worst is white ladies of a Certain Age, and it always seems to happen in the pudding aisle, for some reason. They either go cross-eyed with horniness and become indiscriminately handsy (Dean can’t blame them for the impulse, but also back off, Karen), or ask Cas for prayers for their cat’s chronic asshole problems (which Castiel WILL take seriously). 

Worst of all is when some hippie spinster clocks them. This woman inevitably reaches right for the feathers and asks in a willowy voice if they’d ever consider turning some of them into dreamcatchers to sell at her studio, which is literally always named The Faerie’s Glen. Then Cas gets confused about why, exactly, a sixty year-old WASP in a peasant skirt would need to call on the infant-protection powers of an Ojibwe spider goddess, while Dean just wants to bite the lady’s fingers off. 

Either way, it’s always a bad scene, and many fully loaded grocery carts have been lost to the fallout.

17.  For some metaphysical reason Dean is too dumb to suss out but also too smart to question, lugging a pair of Cessna-sized flappers around this mortal dimension actually seems to tucker Cas out. He doesn’t need to zonk out every night, but he semi-regularly throws in the towel and actually crawls in with Dean for the duration. 

This would be swell in theory, but the guy absolutely cannot settle the fuck down in less than three (3) human hours, which is the exact amount of sleep Dean requires to maintain his famously sunny demeanor. It’s not just ye olde tossing and turning — Dean can handle that, sharing a bed with Sam is like sleeping next to a kangaroo with restless leg syndrome — no, it’s a nonstop parade of little flippy-flappies and shiffle-shuffles and spontaneous outbursts of preening. 

So Dean makes him a Baby Sleep Sack. 

This is something Dean knows about due solely to one super dumb hunt involving a banishing sigil that had to be drawn in — he still feels like this had to be a misprint — human breastmilk, and that was obviously not happening. But the monster of the week wasn’t going to banish itself, so they wound up at the nearest Walmart, at 4am, picking up what turned about to be an unnecessarily generous supply of baby formula, along with a fresh box of shotgun shells because God bless America*. It doesn’t work, although “lots of stabbing” turns out to be a solid fallback plan, but the point is that while Sam was debating between Digestion Support or Neurological Development, Dean acquired an unprecedented familiarity with some of the products currently available to the sleep-deprived parent. So Dean finds some DIY Baby Sleep Sack knockoff patterns online and determines he can replicate and scale up the concept with some beach towels and duct tape, and the next morning he presents the lumpy but totally functional prototype to Castiel. 

Initially Cas thinks it’s a sex thing (reasonable, it probably is), but once they clear up that misunderstanding, he’s obviously a little peeved by the concept of being swaddled as if he were a gassy baby instead of a deathless sky monster in a sexy dude-shaped can. But Dean must be giving off some serious man on the edge vibes because Cas grudgingly agrees to let Dean tape him up the next time he’s feeling dozy. 

It’s real awkward and takes forever to get Cas bundled up right, and then he’s just kind of lying there on top of the sheets, like an enormous, grumpy baked potato. 

“I could easily break out of these restraints,” he says in a pissy tone after Dean has crawled in and turned off the light, and Dean rolls over to tell him “no shit”, but then he has to stop himself because the guy is already asleep.

Eventually they upgrade to a version made out of some of those trendy weighted blanket things, a few yards of parachute silk, and a whole lot of velcro. The dude looks so damn peaceful that Dean is honestly a little jealous.

*he doesn’t, actually. 

 18.  There’s a sunny afternoon that isn’t the usual Kansas is trying to murder you level of humid so Dean rolls the Impala out into the street for a wash. Cas helps him out a bit initially, although tragically not in a way that involves removing any unnecessary articles of clothing, but Deans sends him to grab a new tub of wax from the shed and he never comes back. After half an hour Dean needs a beer break and goes looking for him, expecting to find Cas lost in thought over whether Turtle Wax is made of actual turtles, or is made to put on actual turtles. Instead he finds Cas crouched on the shimmering pavement at the back of the driveway, sun beating down on him like it has a personal vendetta, and he’s got both wings stretched out real low above the ground. Dean kind of flips out because it’s the type of pose that just screams “stabbed in gut by angel blade” or “migraine from Hell, literally.”

Then Cas looks up, which pulls his wings up a smidge too, which in turn reveals that fully half a dozen neighborhood cats are lounging in the shady patch beneath his wings, spread out on the concrete like blobs of furry peanut butter. No, it’s actually eight cats. There are eight cats.

“Ling-Ling was feeling a little overheated,” Cas says, as if this explains everything. 

And, you know what, at this point, it does.

 19.  Dean has faith that eventually Sam or Cas or the third demon from the left in the second row will turn up a solution for the whole business. Castiel will get to tuck those bad boys back into the secret wing-closet dimension and he won’t have to worry about getting stuck in stairwells anymore, or being reported to the FAA (again). Then they can finally pack up the house, plaster over the more egregious spots of drywall damage, and go back to killing things outside of the tri-county area. The whole thing has been a pretty embarrassing interlude for a couple of dudes who’ve kicked Satan’s ass multiple times — Sam is probably telling other hunters that they’ve been deep undercover to take out a nest of suburban vampires, or a pack of ghouls with mortgages, instead of vacuuming angel down out of the AC unit and considering a Costco membership. 

And sure, there have been some...serious pluses to the situation (see: the other list), but, in his weaker moments, Dean has to admit that he’s kind of going to miss some of the goofy, irritating shit, too — like finding a six-inch feather in the veggie crisper (how? why?), or watching Cas fwap his wings out just in time to accidentally clothesline a jogger, or even the strangely compelling, sorta cheesy smell that starts to float around the house if Cas goes a little too long between hosedowns. 

He has actually grown fond of this shit. Which is 100% the least sexy thing on earth, it’s some genuinely, seriously pathetic goo goo crap, and that’s why nobody will ever hear a fucking word about it. People will ask “so what’s it like, with the wings” and Dean will waggle his eyebrows suggestively and review the highlight reel over an inadvisable amount of rail whiskey. His secret’s safe with, well. Him.

 20.  Seriously though, the bird mites. 

Gross.

[avatar-news]

The Fire Nation Awaits 🌺 An in-depth look at the ever-elusive islands in the era of Korra and when we will finally pay them a visit

[Artwork by Avatar News; not official.]

Note: This article was published before the official announcement of Avatar Studios at the Paramount+ investor day.

“Water. Earth. Fire. Air. Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked.” We’ve all heard those words a million times. The four elements, and the power to control them bestowed by four subspecies of giant lion-turtles, are at the very heart of the world of Avatar. The balance between them was once upon a time broken by one of the four, the Fire Nation, forming the main conflict of Avatar: The Last Airbender. For much of Aang and the Gaang’s quest at the close of the Hundred Year War, the Fire Nation was a forbidden, far-away location, until the curtain was finally drawn back in the aptly-named Book Three: Fire when our heroes entered the inferno, undercover behind enemy lines. A dramatic tropical destination! New outfits! Culture shock! Needless to say, it was a big deal.

→ 🌺 The big reveal of the Fire Nation in Book Three: Fire had its own marketing push, matching public anticipation.

When the Hundred Year War ended, the newly-instated Fire Lord Zuko dedicated his life to righting the wrongs of his forefathers and working with Avatar Aang to bring the Fire Nation back into the fold under peace. By the time Aang’s successor debuted as the next Avatar in the titular The Legend of Korra, Zuko had abdicated the five-pointed crown and his daughter, Fire Lord Izumi, took the stage leading a reformed, rebalanced Fire Nation.

There was no more war, no more enemy lines, yet the Fire Nation became more distant and mysterious than ever before.

Korra’s close encounters with the land of fire

To this day, Korra has never visited the Fire Nation, nor has it been seen at all, nor do we know anything about it in her era. In fact, practically the only thing we do know is that its leader is a noninterventionist, which conveniently gets it out of the way of making an appearance in Korra’s journey as the Avatar so far.

The closest we have come to seeing the Fire Nation in The Legend of Korra was in Book Two: Spirits, Chapter Five: Peacekeepers. In the midst of the Water Tribe Civil War, Korra sets out across the sea to get help from the royal family, however, she is intercepted by a dark spirit and never makes it to her destination. In the next episode, she washes up on a secret island home to the Bhanti sages, which probably technically counts as Fire Nation territory, but as we know from The Shadow of Kyoshi (more on that later), this faction predates the Four Nations themselves so it doesn’t really count.

→ 🌺 Korra washes up on the beach of Bhanti Island in Book Two: Spirits, Chapter Six: The Sting.

No, as cool as that location and the events of the Beginnings two-parter that happened there were, it wasn’t the main draw of seeing the Fire Nation that we’re still waiting for: seeing how the Fire Nation, which was already industrializing in Aang’s time, changed over the decades, compared to places like Republic City and Ba Sing Se; meeting new characters; visiting new and familiar locations; worldbuilding both new and expanding on what we already learned.

After this aborted tease in Book Two, we never come close to the island country again (at least not with this Avatar and in her era; yes I’m leading up to something...). Instead, the focus turns strongly to the Earth Kingdom in the third and fourth Books, and beyond.

Keep in mind that The Legend of Korra aired for about two-and-a-half years total from 2012 to 2014. Since then, the story has continued in comics. The comics era has lasted from 2015 to present-- seven years to the animated series’ two. In that time, there have only been two comic trilogies due to various production troubles, and neither have touched the Fire Nation. Instead, they directly continue the Earth Kingdom-focused threads started in Books Three and Four of Korra, both originally airing in 2014. Or, in perspective: we had a focus on Republic City in 2012, the Water Tribes in 2013, and the Earth Kingdom from 2014-2021.

Will we finally see the Fire Nation in the next graphic novel trilogy?

This question comes to mind every time new Korra content is supposed to roll around, and the powers that be know it-- it’s a pretty obvious gap in the world of Avatar right now. This franchise is iconically built around four elements and the Four Nations based on them, so one of them being MIA is quite glaring, and for that reason everyone is understandably always asking about it.

The most concrete confirmation we’ve gotten was this AMA answer from franchise co-creator Michael Dante DiMartino in 2016, two years after the show ended and a year before the first graphic novels did come out:

“Yes, hopefully in the [Korra] comics, we’ll have a chance to go to the Fire Nation and see how it has changed since A:TLA.”

Since then, as previously discussed, two comic trilogies have come and gone, obviously not getting closer to the Fire Nation-- and I would actually argue entrenching themselves further away from it.

I want to make it clear that I’m against fan entitlement. Creatives telling the tales they want to in service of the story and the artform is how the industry should run. I’m just hoping to offer some perspective on how we got to where we are almost a decade into the era of Korra and the metatextual pacing of the franchise itself.

Either way, the next Korra comic trilogy has been official confirmed by the editor for Avatar at Dark Horse Comics in this informal statement on Twitter:

We’re not ready to announce any details yet, but we are working on the next trilogy. I really appreciate your patience and hope it’s worth the wait! ✨

There’s currently some kind of holdup for which we really have zero context or information, and we of course have no idea what this next trilogy will be about. (I do speculate a bit on what it could be a few paragraphs down.)

But, like what turned out to be Ruins of the Empire before it, I faithfully made a mockup graphic for my post announcing the confirmation of the next The Legend of Korra graphic novel trilogy. And like before, I chose to completely speculatively and blindly make it Fire Nation-y, as if the next comic could/would(/should?) feature it. This is mainly because I feel like that’s what most people’s eyes would be caught by and thus result in the most successful post (hey, at least I’m honest), but also because it’s just fun.

Here are both images, from 2018 and 2020 respectively:

→ 🌺 Speculative edits I made for my posts on the announcement of previous and upcoming Korra comics before we knew anything about them.

In both cases, the response was huge, and people were super excited about the prospect of Fire Nation content just from my quick speculative mockups. I am of course hoping that the new artwork I made of the Krew for this post will have a similar effect (it’s the first time I just straight-up drew it instead of editing existing images) but again it’s really mostly just for fun.

Anyway, until the next trilogy is properly revealed, we’ll just have to wait and see.

However, that’s not the only place this could happen.

Are they saving the Fire Nation for an animated movie?

With Avatar’s HUGE success on Netflix last year, interest in the franchise rocketed to an all-time high. The streaming wars have begun, and Avatar’s owner and its parent company, Nickelodeon and ViacomCBS, have finally started to notice.

ViacomCBS is launching Paramount+ on March 4th, a relaunch of its existing streaming service CBS All Access. Paramount+ is meant to be a big expansion and refocus to compete with the big hitters: Disney+, HBO Max, and, yes, Netflix. (There’s quite an entanglement there, with Netflix being the home of Avatar’s big year and the upcoming live-action series.)

One of the keys to a successful streamer today is high-profile originals to drive new subscribers. ViacomCBS knows this and they know Avatar has just become among the highest profiles a property can have, breaking records and going toe-to-toe with other big-hitting sci-fi/fantasy/genre franchises. This knowledge goes right to the top of the food chain: the CEO of ViacomCBS mentioned Avatar by name when discussing potential originals for Paramount+.

I have previously discussed how The Search relates to this. The Search was the second ATLA comic trilogy, focused on the search for Zuko’s mother in the thick of the Fire Nation, and if you didn’t know, it was originally pitched by Bryke as an animated movie after the original series ended.

I just want to be clear that what I’m discussing here is purely speculative, but this is the only other piece of the Avatar franchise that we know was optioned for animation besides the shows themselves. It’s possible they would be interested in going back to this idea as a Paramount+ original (and it would certainly be popular among audiences), but it is of course set during the era of Aang and thus covers both a time period we’ve already seen, and also by nature of already being released as comics, events we’ve already seen too.

However, the whole point of this article is that there is one major, huge thing we haven’t seen yet, with massive anticipation building for a decade behind it: the Fire Nation in the era of Korra. So, again, this is just speculation, but it’s also possible that they could return to the very smallest seed of the original idea for a The Search movie, and do a Fire Nation-focused Korra movie now.

→ 🌺 ATLA’s Fire Nation-focused The Search was originally pitched as an animated movie.

You can skip this next part if you don’t want to see me embarrassingly promote my fan idea 😆 but this is where the artwork I made for this article comes into play. The general idea for it, and the reason I tried to replicate the show’s style as much as possible, is that it’s what a Fire Nation-focused movie could maybe look like. Something as standalone and unrelated to Earth Kingdom drama as possible, with fresh new looks for the Krew to get people excited for something fresh and new! I really feel like the Avatar franchise has so much potential for expanded content like this, that’s why I have high hopes that Paramount+ will make the most out of it! You can see the individual characters’ artwork in larger size here. Ok I’m done back to business.

If the idea of a movie seems too impossible to you, we can also take a deeper look at Bryke’s involvement with upcoming comics instead.

After Korra ended, they officially each went their separate ways. They vaguely consulted on Avatar stuff, and Mike of course wrote the Korra comics, but Bryan was planning on writing and drawing his own original non-Avatar comic series and Mike was releasing his own non-Avatar novels. This all appears to have come to a stop when they signed on to showrun the live-action retelling of ATLA at Netflix, officially reuniting the partnership and committing to Avatar again in a big way. Of course, they ended up leaving that project over creative differences, but it did result in a big, lasting change: this time they remained official creative partners and have indicated they’re still working on Avatar now, together. This is a far cry from the official breakup after Korra, so it begs the question what exactly they’re working on. I of course have my fanciful predictions of a sprawling expansion of the Avatar franchise at Paramount+, but what if it’s actually a combination of the ingredients from before the live-action series...

More speculation, but what if the reason for all the mystery behind the next Korra comics is because they will be made by Bryke, with the two of them co-writing and Bryan doing the art for the first time? If that’s the case, they could want to make them a bigger deal than the other Avatar comics have been so far, and maybe that’s why it’s taking so long to iron everything out, have a more significant story, have more of a marketing push, etc. If they’ve been saving the Fire Nation for something big, this could be it.

I personally think this is less likely than a show or movies or something, but it is possible. Anything is possible right now since we know so little about the large-scale direction of the franchise moving forward, just that it’s gonna get big.

⛰️🌋 The Fire Nation in the era of Avatar Kyoshi

We’re not done! Despite everything I’ve written here, believe it or not, the Fire Nation was actually the star of the show in the last year.

With the debut of the Avatar franchise’s first original novels, Kyoshi made a huge splash (in a way only she can). If you haven’t read them yet, you NEED to-- they’re some of the best Avatar content EVER. The Rise of Kyoshi hit shelves in 2019 and The Shadow of Kyoshi followed in 2020. The latter is of particular interest here, because it was almost entirely set in the Fire Nation and featured practically everything and anything you could want from a visit to elusive islands. Though obviously set in a historical period some four hundred years before Aang’s time, Kyoshi’s sojourn in the Fire Nation gave us a huge amount of new information, a depth and breadth of worldbuilding, culture, and character we’ve never really seen in Avatar before. It truly makes the most of the literary medium, so hats off to author F. C. Yee for the passion and effort he put in.

In The Shadow of Kyoshi, we learn about the era of the previous fire Avatar before Roku, Avatar Szeto. Through Kyoshi and her own Team Avatar, we learn about the different clans and islands of the Fire Nation, as they experience the fraught early reign of Fire Lord Zoryu and the conflict between the Keohso and Saowon clans, culminating in the Camellia-Peony War. We get a multitude of fleshed-out perspectives from the upper crust to the flea-bitten underworld, matching the heights of the worldbuilding quality of Republic City. It’s such cool, intricate stuff, and really shows Avatar’s potential (and that’s all just the worldbuilding-- the character work is also top-notch).

That’s not the only place the Fire Nation has shone recently. One of Insight Editions’ awesome scrapbooks, Legacy of the Fire Nation, gave us a tour through the royal family’s history, including never-before-seen looks at young Iroh and Ozai and much, much more.

All this just goes to show that the Fire Nation has been a hot ticket throughout the ages and there’s one conspicuous gap in that history: the era of Avatar Korra. With so much recent expansion and development of the Fire Nation in our world, it would be perfect to see the culmination of it all in the current time period in the world of Avatar too.

If this made you excited for the potential of what the Avatar franchise could look like in the coming years, same boat!

The next concrete date where something could be announced is February 24th, when ViacomCBS will host their investor day and present their streaming strategy, including Paramount+ originals. There’s no guarantee Avatar is mentioned, but I’m keeping a hopeful eye out.

As for comics, Dark Horse’s schedule marches to its own beat, so there’s no way to know when the next drop of information is coming our way.

Could this finally be the comics that take us to the Fire Nation, or could the much-anticipated visit be in another medium like animation? Stay tuned-- as always I’ll post as soon as we learn anything new!