#chariot writes

[arcanechariot]

heavy

rating: mature.

relationship(s): steven grant / gn!reader.

tags: body dysmorphic disorder, childhood trauma, chronic pain, eating disorders, established relationship, family issues, mental health issues, past child abuse, suicidal thoughts, trauma, vent fic.

word count: 3k+

summary: just a vent fic. it didn't come out the way i wanted but it came out the way it did. (pls be mindful of the tags)

[froggie-at-home]

will doesn't talk to clarisse unless necessary after the battle of manhattan.

she refused to fight and held back her whole cabin because of a petty argument. yes, will knows that his cabin wasn't any better, but clarisse literally wanted them to die. and guess what? they did! will lost all of his siblings and she comes back only because silena stole her armor.

and her apologies? her suddenly caring about the fight and campers? fuck that. she lost her chance; no matter of how sorry she is and how many monsters she killed will return him his family.

you'd think that'd be all, but she keeps on defending silena, the traitor. the person who has as much blood on her hands as every other ta member, who is personally connected to the murder of his cabin. she keeps on calling her a hero, dismissing the fact that she was one of the first to know about silena being a spy.

will might go as far as call the two partners in crime.

[always-coffee]

The Chariot

The monsters always want you to believe there is no light, only dark— there is no hope, only despair— there is no better, just this— but if that’s true, then what are they so afraid of?

In the end, each of us is both sword and shield, comfort and ferocity, imperfect and outraged— use it.

This heartache and fury is legacy and lightning rod, a reminder that small good deeds become merciful gods, things you can pray to, when the night aches and the terrors sing of wondrous heartbreak.

This strength is gentle, a simmer of sparks, a way to revive our limping hearts, to soothe what is tired, what is hurting, when we can’t even name it.

This, this, this— here is the spell: lean into love so fully that it crumbles the dark, that it pulls the monsters from the story, that it unravels their weaponry,

softly, stone by stone, the river of it changes, and one by one moment by moment, you come back to yourself— I am here, a light, a promise, a prayer of fire and bone, and there is nothing we can’t get through together.

[jeork]

Random TC detail I love: Madge taking Reg back as "his" lover letter was so beautiful and moving, even though she knew all along it was Laurie who wrote it

[remembertheplunge]

The human shall protest to the grave

February 1, 1992

Today I’m feeling really shaky—distraught—ANXT. Is it because last night things got shaken loose? Jumbled up—like the physical system after a tough work out—

I keep thinking about “Fried Green Tomatoes”. Nice life inspiration—kind of the “Chariots” of 1992.

Yesterday was incredible—really—at noon…Terry Loyal Jones signed his will. Blinded…he signed  his proposed will instructions which said  “I leave all else to my long time companion. Bury me in my tennis shoes—why waste a good pair of boots? Later, he decided—the boots would be ok, and his jeans and new shirt. If a certain 3 people attended the funeral, have them arrested (including a sister). At the funeral, come dressed for a party, I want balloons and two songs (I can’t recall now what the songs were). And, he included who he wanted to do his eulogy.

And, there he lied—all thin, giant, Auschwitz like. Blind. But full of vim and fire and life. His life flame burned as brightly…and his friend loved him as intensely and freshly…as any I have yet experienced..Terry and I shook hands twice. I said at the end “take care”.

And they, Terry and his partner, were just as fervently “Living”  the life style…”Why should we give up our property to relatives? We’ve lived like husband and wife”…so, the “will: will serve as their official statement of intent.

“We were legit.

BACK OFF.’

The book says—“The human shall protest to the grave.”

Thank God.

End of entry

12/3/2024. Notes:

Terry Loyal Joes had Aids. A 2/17/1992 margin note to the above entry said “he died last Thursday.”  He was matched with a volunteer with the Stanislaus County Aids Project who helped him through his illness and death. He was not my match. I must have been there to help him with the will signing. 

Late stage a

Fried Green Tomatoes was a 1991 movie. “Chariots” refers to “Chariots of Fire” a 1981 movie.

I’m not sure what book I was quoting from at the end of the entry (the human shall protest to the grave).  But, I still totally agree with the message. 

One AIDS related complex was loss of vision ability and blindness

Auschwitz was a German concentration camp where Jews, Gypsies LBGTQ and others were taken to be torched, starved and killed during World War II. The inmates grew to look like a late stage AIDS victim of the 1980's and 1990's.

[kaelor0409]

I swore I'd be normal about Chariots of Steel. I really did.

But "Wilhelm and Josef" got me.

[seriousbrat]

can someone tell me, is this a realistically bad poem that a self-pitying yet egotistical and very pretentious adult man would write:

obviously it's supposed to be bad lmao

[kittylover776]

Random Thought:

I once read a fic where Nick is accidentally shrunken by the tablet to make him Jed and Octavius’ size, so what if Ahk allows Teddy, Wea, Atilla, and the rest of the gang to be miniatures for the night so their small companions can show them around their exhibits? I’m sure the two would be more than happy to give them a tour. It would also allow the bigger gang to experience what it’s like being small, and what the pros and cons of it are.

It’d be kinda adorable, tbh.

[kebriones]

You've answered what you think Socrates was like as a father. What do you think Alcibiades was like as a father?

It's hard to answer because even the speeches later written after his death for his son's lawsuit problems don't talk about his relationship with his son.

I think part of his need to be admired could translate into caring about his children.

I think the fact that he lacked an actual father figure in his life (his dad dying when he was very young and Pericles never quite being that father figure for him, at least it doesn't seem so from what ) could have a variety of effects. He could want to try and be the dad he didn't have, but be unable to do so, not knowing what that is like.

There's also Alcibiades' instability to consider. Having an unstable parent with fluctuating moods and opinions can be horrible for a child. I can also see him having preferences amongst his children, though that's just vibes I'm getting and not something that's implied anywhere.

We know that his son had a lot of struggles while Alcibiades was in sparta. Since all his possessions including his house and fields were sold when he was sentenced to death, his son would've had nothing. It's likely that hipparete's family or other relatives would've taken him in, but to what extent Alcibiades had made any arrangements for that or not, we don't know.

(if we combine all sources it's likely that his legitimate son by hipparete was born on or before 424. The Alcibiades and Athens book by david gribble has some insight as to his relationship with his son/sons, I will go check it later today when I get home.)

His overall behavior in life doesn't give me "man who cares about his family". Could it be possible that he really loved his kids and had periods of really caring about them? Considering again his instability, I think it's very likely. Considering that he had parts of him, as we see when he's talking about Socrates in the symposium, that really, really want to be good, could it be possible that there was a part of him that always loved his children and always cared for them, but the other parts of him that wanted power and glory overshadowed his wish to stay home and make sure his children grew up well? Yeah, I think so. I also think it possible that despite everything he always found time and ways to care for his kids even from a distance, but still made mistakes, and he definitely was not a steady presence in their lives (considering how much he wasn't in athens) like a dad should be.

[scooter-ing]

continuation of my lwa highschool musician au thingie

just some light brainstorming/character building:

idkkk ive done some reconsideration regarding what diana would be doing, and thinking about it now i think akko and diana both being violinists works well bc violinists are VERY competitive, and they are both very good at what they do. so they both compete for first chair.

some characters will be band kids, but this will all work out because of the symphony orchestra in which there are brass/woodwind/percussionists

akko and diana are both violinists (already established and decided now)

sucy would be a cellist defo, she gives off wednesday vibes

lotte would be a violist, bc of her whole thing of being "doesnt-matter-if-shes-there-or-not lotte the invisible"

amanda gives off band percussionist vibes that plays the full drum kit for the jazz band

constanze is prob a clarinet or something that's tedious to put together in the band. bc she's all mechanical so

jasminka is either a double bass player or a euphonium. either one

barbara and hannah are definitely the second violin first desk because they need to even out the section. they're good just not as good as diana

chariot is a violinist (previously established)

croix i am a little bit iffy about im not too sure tbh. i want her to be another music director at their school im just not sure what kind of role she'll play yet. i WILL be writing charoix beware

very caught between writing hannah x amanda (idrk where that ship even came from tbh) & barbara x lotte OR barbara x hannah. they're all like really cute and i can enjoy them. idk i cant really write polyamory well it's not really my area of experience

anyway im posting this all for feedback and/or suggestions so if you have any plz plz plz lemme know

[ralphlanyon]

9. secret kisses for R/L please! :D

"Ralph, are you sure we shouldn't head back...?" Laurie began to ask, sounding increasingly breathless in between kisses. Ralph had him backed flush against the far wall of the kitchen, his cheeks blooming an endearing shade of red, luminous against his fair, lightly freckled skin.

"Don't worry. Alec's game has only started—I shouldn’t think we'll be missed for at least another hour. No doubt they're all still bickering over some nonsense." The last time their set had played charades at Alec's, they had spent a good portion of the evening embroiled in a tediously drawn-out debate over the relative superiority of various Hollywood actresses, and it had nearly progressed to fisticuffs. Ralph wasn't about to subject Spud to such histrionics.

While Alec was assigning teams and collecting slips of paper in a hat, Ralph had been sitting with his arm around Laurie on the divan, the latter looking bored and tragically unkissed throughout the evening, when he had suddenly thought of a better use of their time.

"But what if Alec or Sandy..." Laurie's weak misgivings appeared to vanish abruptly as Ralph thrust his hips in a particular way that made him stutter and gasp.

At any rate, Ralph thought, Alec did owe him for all those times of walking in on him and Sandy—among his other dalliances. He therefore went on freely kissing Spuddy, his conscience pricked by very little remorse.

[arcanechariot]

rating: explicit.

relationship(s): poe dameron / reader (gender not specified).

tags: (light) dom/sub, mentor/student, praise kink, seduction.

word count: 1.9k+

(this was going to be a full-length fic but i ran out of steam bc ive been writing my uni essay on existential therapy 😑😑)

The hangar hums with the low, steady hum of machinery. You wipe a streak of grime from the polished hull of Poe's x-wing, the familiar curves and angles a comfort. It's a quiet moment, a rare respite from the chaos of the Resistance. You've volunteered to clean his ship, a simple task, but one that allows you to be near him.

Poe emerges from the cockpit, a grin playing on his lips. Damn, he's just so handsome, the type of guy who turns heads. Not only because he's easy on the eyes, with his wavy black hair and warm brown eyes, but because he's also the Resistance's top pilot, their undisputed star, a hero. He could have his pick of anyone…

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my favourite recruit." He drawls, leaning against the side of the craft. His eyes, dark and sweet, twinkle with amusement.

"Captain." You reply, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. You can't help but feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. Being around him always makes you feel a little tongue-tied.

"You're looking a little tired. Need a hand with that?" He offers, a playful glint in his eyes.

"No, I'm good, Captain." You insist, determined to finish the task on your own.

"Alright, alright." He concedes, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. God, those lips. They just look so soft and kissable… "But if you need anything, just holler."

As he walks away, you can't help but steal a glance at his back. His confident stride, the way he carries himself with such ease, it's both inspiring and intimidating. Broad shoulders, lean muscles… There's no doubt, he's an attractive man. But you're a rational person. You're certainly not going to swoon over a superior officer, no matter how handsome he is.

You return to your task, the hum of the hangar filling the silence. A thought, a small, hopeful seed, begins to grow in your mind. You've always admired the Captain's piloting skills, the way he effortlessly manoeuvres his x-wing through the stars. A bold idea takes shape.

"Captain?" You call out, your voice barely a whisper. He turns, his eyebrows raised in question.

"Yeah?" You hesitate, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I was wondering…if maybe you could teach me how to fly an x-wing?" A wide grin spreads across his face. What you wouldn't give to see that smile every morning…

"You wanna learn to fly an x-wing?" He asks, his voice filled with surprise and amusement.

"Well, yeah." You stammer, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. "I mean, if you have the time, of course." He leans against the frame of the hangar door, his arms crossed.

"I suppose I could make some time for my favourite recruit." He says, a playful glint in his eye. "But you'll have to work hard and you'll have to follow my lead." A wave of excitement washes over you.

"I can do that." You assure him, your voice filled with determination.

"Good." Poe says, a satisfied smile on his face. "Because I'm gonna make you the best pilot in the Resistance."

You climb up into the cockpit of the x-wing, taking a moment to appreciate its size and complexity. So many buttons and switches and screens. Where to even begin?

Thankfully, it's big enough to fit the two of you. Poe slides in beside you, making your space in the close quarters seem that much smaller. Close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body through his flight-suit. You pretty much have to sit in his lap to get the hatch shut.

The smell of his aftershave fills the cockpit. Something fresh but masculine, mixed with engine oil and ozone. You resist the urge to breathe him in.

"Comfy? Good. Now, let's start with the basics. These controls here? They'll be your new best friends." He walks you through the controls one by one. He starts slowly, watching and correcting your every movement. You find yourself envying his confidence and grace. "First thing you need to know; my ship doesn't like being bossed around. You gotta talk to her, be gentle but firm. Like this." As he speaks, his hands move with ease across the console, his tone relaxed and calm. You can't help but watch him, the way his mouth moves, his long lashes, the light stubble dusted across his jaw. It's hypnotic. "Now, your turn. Try powering up the engines." He gestures at the ignition, giving you the all clear to take control.

"O-Okay…" You hesitantly push the ignition but your touch is too light and you don't get the satisfying growl of the engine. It stalls and sputters under your tentative touch. He turns to you, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"Too gentle, rookie." Your mind goes blank. In a matter of seconds, your palms are sweating, your heart racing in your chest.

"Sorry, Captain… Let me try again." You push the ignition again, firmer this time, with more conviction, and the engines roar to life. The Captain nods in approval, his eyes warm and encouraging.

"Better. Now, let's work on navigating. Grab the stick." He hands you the control yoke, his fingers brushing against yours as he does so. The touch, brief and unexpected, sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. His voice drops lower, so soft and smooth and sexy. "It's sensitive, yeah? Work with her, be gentle." He places his hand over yours, his breath warm in your ear. "Move her how you want to be moved." Suddenly, you realise you're holding your breath.

You let out a shaky breath and pull back on the yoke, gently lifting the x-wing off the ground and hovering it out of the hangar doors. Pride swells in your chest as you find yourself drifting above the trees, the valley laid out beneath you. It's exciting, exhilarating, and awe-inspiring, especially with the man of your dreams sharing the view. A perfect moment, almost too perfect…

His hand tightens around yours as he talks you through a basic manoeuvre. "See these buttons here? They control the thrusters. You'll need to use them to keep her stable during turns." His thumb rubs against your knuckles as he demonstrates the controls, his touch deliberate and familiar. Like he's touching you not because he has to but because he wants to. You inhale a shaky breath.

"Captain…"

"Mhmm…?" He turns his head towards you, his face close to yours, his breath warm on your skin. "You're doing great. Natural talent." You swear his eyes flick down to your lips for the briefest moment before he turns his gaze back to the horizon. "Eyes on the sky, rookie." That's when you notice, you've drifted slightly off-course.

You manage to pull back upright again and, when he speaks, his tone is soft, thoughtful even. "You're not what I expected." His words are casual but you sense a deeper meaning, some hidden implication.

"What do you mean?" You ask, your stomach in knots as you await his response.

"I mean, most recruits are either terrified of me or trying to impress me with their fancy-schmancy flying. You're just…you." For a moment, he's quiet. And then… "Find us a night spot to land."

You spot a perfect clearing, nestled between a grove of tall trees and a stream. Bringing the x-wing down smoothly, you sigh as the engines whine and the craft touches down on the grass.

"Nicely done." Poe quips, seemingly impressed with your performance. The look in his eyes, so warm and earnest, sends a wave of butterflies fluttering through your stomach. "Y'know, it can get real hairy up there, can really put a strain on a guy's nerves. So I'm gonna teach you a little lesson in relaxation, okay? One of my tricks." A mischievous smile spreads across his face. "Stress in pilots can kill faster than fire. We can't have that. But don't worry, I know just the thing."

You realise you're still more or less sat in his lap and you stiffen slightly. "First, you need to let go of all that tension." His voice is low and soothing. "Take a deep breath." He demonstrates, inhaling deeply. His chest rises, the fabric of his flight-suit stretching to contain his fit physique. As he exhales, his breath ghosts across your cheek, sending a rush of warmth down your spine. You do the same. "Good. Now let it out slow."

He leans back in the seat, his eyes never leaving yours. "And try to unclench your jaw." You try your best to follow his orders but your breath catches as he shrugs off his jacket and tosses it aside, fully revealing his flight-suit. The fabric hugs his body, accentuating his broad shoulders and strong arms. "Now, this relaxation technique is something you can do with…any crew members you trust or…" His lips twitch into a smile. "With someone who makes you feel…special." Your eyes meet his and, in that moment, there's no one else in the galaxy except the two of you, alone together.

He reaches out and gently takes your jaw in hand, his thumb brushing against your lips. "Just relax and trust me." You take another steadying breath.

"Yes, Captain…" His other hand moves to your hair, stroking softly, running his fingertips through it, before trailing his fingers to the nape of your neck, causing you to shiver. He applies the gentlest pressure and you go easily, sliding from his lap and turning, sliding yourself into the footwell and positioning your body between his legs. He looks so handsome from this angle, so powerful, that it makes your mouth water.

"Good job." He still keeps a hand firmly on your jaw, his thumb stroking along your cheek. "Now take a breath and stay relaxed, okay?" You breathe slowly, the scent of him filling your nose. It's stronger down here, more musky and masculine. "I'll teach you how to do it for me and then I'll do it for you, okay?" You nod, your jaw relaxing at his touch, pliant and willing to accept his guidance.

"A-Alright…" He smiles down at you, breathing deeply and encouraging you to do the same. There's an intensity to his gaze that's overwhelming, mesmerising. His free hand moves to the zipper of his flight-suit, grasping it and pulling it down slowly.

"Captain…" The word comes out, almost a warning, but he placates you.

"Shh… Focus on my voice, my breathing, yeah? Don't break eye contact." He opens his flight-suit, exposing his bare torso. Lean but strong. He pulls the zipper down further and further, slowly revealing the beginnings of the dark trail of hair that leads below the flight-suit. Then down further… "Keep your eyes on me, okay? Don't look away, no matter what happens." Your cheeks flush hot and you inhale sharply as you see his free hand in your peripheral vision, a thumb hooking into the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling it down. "Just…trust me."

"I trust you…" You gasp as he finally reveals himself to you, his cock resting against his belly. You don't get a good look because you're still focused on his face but the few glimpses you get take your breath away.

"Eyes on me, rookie. Breathing…" He reminds you, the hand on your jaw slowly pulling you forward, inching you closer to him. You comply, staring into his eyes, breathing deeply, the nerves now warring with an eagerness and excitement.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, your lips are pressed against him. "You're doing so good. Open your mouth…"

[thegreatyin]

i feel like i need to share this part of the scoundrel's response to the FL OC census with the rest of the class. it's just. what can i even say, really.

[widdlediddle2]

Akko sneezed

Okay wanted to share my royalty au and the change to akko i did

now that akko was born from the stars she actually holds very powerful magic but she doesnt understand it therefore she doesnt know how to control it.

so often chariot or croix would find her doing something weird like floatin around the castle, making her toys levitate or even making one of the maids float!

both chariot and croix have not seen this type of magic before and try their best to help her but unfortunately it grows with each passing day.

But strangely now that akkos a teenager she doesnt have that problem anymore heck she cant even fly on a broom but for some reason akko doesnt remember having magic in the first place. eh it was probably her imagination

[randomfoggytiger]

Find Five Lines Tag

Thank you for the tag, @television-overload~!

Rules: find any lines in your WIP that fit each parameter given by the person who tagged you. Then change one of the parameters and tag five or more people. Can be lines from multiple WIPs. If you can't find a line that fits, feel free to change the prompt.

My lines: a line about family, a passionate line, a line expressing dread, a line that is screamed, a funny line

Your lines: a line about family, a passionate line, a line expressing relief, a line that screamed, a funny line

Family line: "You Up for Joining Us?"

“I should call Melissa,” Bill rasped, rubbing a hand across his eyes, wondering if his father would already have done so.

Passionate line: Eight Nights of Mulder, Day 1: Gold

Alarmed, her pupils widened as her brain scrambled; and the only thought her mind could conjure through the static was gold, gold, gold on sluggish repeat.

Dread line: Son of Egypt

And if closed, found, 2000, died, resurrected was a possibility, then there was an equal chance that born, adopted, given a new identity could be true as well.  

Screamed line: The Hospital Where You Slept

“Paramedics, now!” Mulder yelled, vaulting forward and pumping, pumping, pumping to keep her soul from leaving once more. 

Funny line: Chariots of Fire

Above the thundering chaos, Krycek could have sworn he heard an angel jamming "Chariots of Fire" on his harp.

Tagging: @baronessblixen, @welsharcher, @agent-troi, @suitablyaggrieved, @amplifyme, @cecilysass, @slippinmickeys, @aloysiavirgata, @invidiosa, @writingwell, @pennyserenade, @virtie333, @two-microscopes, @storybycorey, @numinousmysteries, @xxsksxxx, @skelavender, @neednottoneed, @settle-down-frohike, @frogsmulder, @ghostbustermelanieking, @o6666666, @sigritandtheelves, @unremarkablehouse, @leiascully, @bakedbakermom, @freckleslikestars, and anyone else who wants to participate~

[thediscsystem]

Notch my beloathed, war god and general cunt. My beautiful dumpster man.