#i know who you are in my bones. / oliver queen

[yaymiyas]

THE HUSBAND

warning: female reader, saer being….saer, yan!isekai!crown prince

a/n: i was so burnt out so lets see what i come up with ….its short ik and yes im cooking up something w cynthia LET ME COOK 🫡🙄🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯💯

the idea of divorce was swimming in the mist of your mind hours before you regained most of the movement in your body. you knew you had to get out of this situation in a peaceful but quick manner. in your mind, leaving saer should have been easy since he hated edina more than the devil himself. he saw her as a shit stain satan left on earth to torture him for all of his days. so why are tears running down his face…thats odd? from all of the tweets, forums, and blogs saer had close to no emotions for edina. he hated her through and through. in the original story, he would’ve cheered of joy if she simply asked to part ways. so why was he sitting in front of you crying? was the bacon too salty? was he remembering the good ol’ times with his late father? ever since you’ve transmigrated into this story, everything has been so weird. aside from you being close to perfectly fine after being fed poison, saer has became more careful.

in the book, saer was close to a bubbling idiot. every single assassination attempt was stopped by a maid because he was stupid. he always played it as cynthia and amanda favoring edina but that wasnt the full truth. he was just too obvious with everything he was doing. you actually kind of felt back for the dummy, no wonder gracie wants nothing to do with him. regardless of any of that, you actually started to feel a bit bad for him. it was obvious saer didnt know why he was crying or how to stop it by the way his face was balled up in red confusion. maybe it was out of guilt or for the plot, either way you wanted to help him. maybe he wanted to kill you but seeing a grown man cry really did break your heart.

“now, saer..”

gently pushing your hand out to cover his larger ones, you put on a voice of concern. you want to help the poor idiot but you also want to get out of this house alive. maybe playing the sweet docile wife could do you some good, maybe—

“ugh, stupid bitch get off of me.”

slapping your hand off of his, saer attempted to keep a face of pure disgust plastered for you to see. why on earth was he crying, and why on earth are you being so off-putting? at first, your new actions didnt really bother him. were they different? yes, but they weren’t unpleasant. but now...it was as if the poison made you utterly indifferent to his presence, which he told himself he loved, but the lord knows thats a lie. you quietly sitting there, dry-face, with a slight frown and uninterested body language, angered him. saer was crying purely for reactions. he thought that crying would help him close this conversation and make you jump up and beg for his forgiveness, but no. all you did was lift your grimly, beastly fingers to ‘comfort’ him. what a joke of a woman.

“im finished with my breakfast”

the scream of the chair was louder than your own thoughts, kicking you out of your own subconscious. what even was that about? you were TRYING to be the version of edina you thought he would like, second from you killing yourself right there and then. so why was he acting like you were trying to jump his bones? he is such a wicked man….such a sad excuse of a person. its such a shame his attitude is so sour, you were going to try to soften his walls to see if he would lighten up on the poisoning situation. how did he get it? who did he get it from?

“madam,”

lightly placing her hand on your shoulder, cynthia appeared. scaring you out of your thoughts, you straightened your back and put on the best fake smile you could. you knew cynthia didnt really care for you, as demonstrated by the bath she gave you earlier, but you thought that maybe you could melt this ice queen. her soft ginger coils shaped her face in all the right places, giving her olive skin the type of glow women in the real world would kill for. she had green eyes to match alone with it, making it easy to find yourself lost in them. cynthia was a beautiful woman; just how did she become a maid for this jackass?

“his royal highness has ordered for you to be sent to your room.”

[mysterycitrus]

[a roy pov companion snippet to persephone part two]

There was a time, just after his father’s death, when Roy would fall into fits of choking suffocation.

His throat would close, his mouth turning itchy and hot and tight and he’d gasp and claw at his own flesh, desperate for air. Wheezing, bent over on all fours, struggling to breathe and desperate for relief, swallowing around that phantom smoke in his lungs that clung to him and refused to leave.

Brave Bow would find him in the dirt, press a calloused hand to his forehead and brush his hair from his eyes. He’d had the same hands as Roy’s father, then – steady from years fletching arrows.

Calm, boy, he’d say. The fire is gone, and you remain. You remain, and for that you must breathe.

It’d taken years before Roy felt it again, crouched with a needle in his arm and Oliver Queen’s shadow casting him in darkness. That same, encompassing squeeze that pushed his organs taut against his bones, stretched like taffy and drawing all air from his body. It’d been Dinah there with him, that time. Different callouses, with that same tender gentleness.

Then, Jade. Lian. Ollie. Donna. His comfort changed shape, and he learnt to drag himself out of the fire by himself, breathing around the fist in his mouth. The feeling became familiar, and so did the way it would leave him trembling and skittish. In and out. Inhale, exhale. You remain, and for that you must breathe.

Now, he’s sitting on a rooftop in Queens, and the smoke has returned to drown his best friend, because Dick Grayson believes there is evil in him. That all the good he’s done is poisonous. That he bears the burden of a grown man’s mistakes. Because – because Bruce Wayne couldn’t let one good fucking thing in the world lie.

He carries through the motions, watching himself from outside his own body as Dick thrashes, refuses to breathe until Donna physically compresses his lungs for him, forcing him to inhale. His heart is beating so fast it’s as if it’s not beating at all.

Never in his life has Roy wanted to kill someone more.

Donna is staring bullets into the side of his head as they descend into Dick’s apartment, holding him with a tight grip. Dick, younger Dick, seventeen-year-old hurt and miserable and alone Dick, stays silent but his eyes flutter like he’s about to pass out. The bruise on his face has only darkened in the hours since they left Jason Todd’s apartment, and the yellow spots on his cheekbone have started to purple. The bags beneath his eyes are deep.

How did I never notice he was like this? Roy thinks, half incredulous at himself. How did we let this happen that first time?

There was an answer, but it was for an older Dick who still carried all his cards to his chest. Would they be forgiven when that Dick found out what they knew about him? How they knew him now, better than they had before?

Garth, bless him, is holding a performatively casual pose as they gently push Dick through the open window. The soup is in a bowl – the slightly misshapen one that’d been Damian’s first try with a kiln – and Garth looks at him, then the soup, and pivots to start the kettle instead. What Dick really needs is solids, and maybe some protein, Roy knows, but the chances of him just throwing it back up again are high.

“Garth,” Roy says, and Garth turns those big, glistening eyes at him. It’s like staring into a lava lamp. “I’m sorry, but nobody wants any fucking soup.” Then he risks putting his hands on Dick’s shoulders – the kid doesn’t flinch, thank God – and says: “You, stay there. I need to go put my head in the shower.”

He presses down gently until Dick sits on the couch, carefully avoiding Donna’s gaze as she tries to catch his eye and rubs his hands over his face. Inhale, exhale. The smoke thickens, twists, chokes. Roy tilts a little but manages to regain his balance, and passes Donna as she goes to Garth, still fretting in the kitchen. Trusting, finally, that Dick wasn’t going to bolt right this second, he walks out towards the bathroom and immediately collides with Wally.

Wally’s still buzzing a little, and the hairs on Roy’s arms stand on end as he’s zapped when Wally grabs his elbows to hold him upright. There’s a deep line between his eyebrows, but when he looks up over Roy’s shoulders at Dick, his face goes slack. This worked out, actually. It’d keep help keep them both occupied to talk out their feelings, until Roy could get back in control of himself.

“Easy, fleetfeet,” Roy says. “Babysit for a second, would you? I need to wash my face.”

“I thought we decided we didn’t want him to run,” Wally hisses back, but Roy just gives him a shove in the couch’s general direction and staggers down the hall.

He hears Wally move forward as he manages to kick the door shut, falling against it as he starts to gasp. Roy presses his head back against the tiles, squeezing his eyes shut and desperately inhaling in through his nose and out his mouth. His throat itches. A throbbing pain starts at his temple, beating with his heart and radiating to his jaw and neck and shoulders until he tenses into a spasm.

In, out. Breathe, hold, release. Roy manages to swallow, but the noise he makes sounds like a sob, and he fumbles with the faucet until he can trust that the water is drowning him out. Again, and he claps a hand over his mouth. Everything feels ready to snap.

He got through it that first time, says a voice in his head. It sounds a lot like Connor’s patient grace. Remember? He’s still here, just the same.

But this is so much worse, Roy replies internally. Can’t you see? Because now he knows it’s not gonna end. It’ll never end.

No. This is too much.

The first time he grabs at his phone, it falls from his trembling fingers and lands on the floor with a crack. It takes him one, two more tries to retrieve it, and instead of standing he folds himself onto the floor, sat pressed against the wall next to the basin. The blue light makes his eyes sting and seeing Lian smiling back just makes that rolling nausea return, thinking of a young Dick Grayson stare at his daughter in wonder. Eight years old, like Dick’s own father hadn’t fallen when Dick was that age. Like Dick had lost a father all over again a decade later. It hurts so bad.

Thankfully, when he swipes through his speed dial, she answers.

“You’re late with an update, boyo.”

For a moment, he can’t even get the words out, just audibly breathes into the receiver with his eyes shut and his free hand twisted into his hair.

“Roy? What happened? Is Dick alright?”

He has to swallow around the lump in his throat again.

“Is Lian there?” Roy manages to get out in a croak. He truly doesn’t know what he’ll do if Mia’s taken her to MOMA or something. Maybe permanently move into Dick’s bathroom. “She free to talk?”

“Sure.” He hears Dinah move and begin to walk. She’s calm, but her steps are quick and loud down the line. “Give me an answer, Roy. If you want to talk to her because you’re bleeding out-“

“No, no,” Roy says. “No, it’s just – it’s been a long day.”

It’s only about twelve pm, but Dinah doesn’t comment on it. He hears a door open, then shut. His heartrate picks up again.

“Dinah,” he says, and he hears her stop. “Dinah.”

She knows, clearly.

“He’s seventeen, Dinah.”

“Yeah, Babs said.” A pause. “Seventeen, huh?”

“He’s…” Roy stops, tugs at his hair a little. “I can’t tell you –he’s been saying-”

“You were all kids. You know that right? The stuff you were doing wasn’t normal, in retrospect. Makes sense he’d freak you out.”

But it’s not just that. It was the casual acceptance of baiting Deathstroke. Dick’s conviction of his own fault about losing Robin. His terror of confronting Bruce. The profound, absolute loss of everything. Dick Grayson lost his father at eight years old.

Roy can’t reply to that, really, so Dinah says:

“Here she is.”

There’s a shuffle, another pause, then –

“Daddy?”

The tension leaves his body so fast he almost drops the phone entirely, and his legs properly unfold into a sprawl.

“Hey, princess.”

“You okay?” Her voice raises in pitch slightly, like when she’s getting nervous. He’d put a lot of effort into stopping her from sounding like that, so it’s jarring now. “Dinah said… Dinah said-“

“I’m fine. Really. I just wanted to check that Mia wasn’t buying you more Legos from the giftshop with my card.”

“They were mermaid Legos,” Lian tells him, worry gone entirely and now a little huffy. “And Mia said – Mia said you were a landlord. And could buy them.”

“Daddy is not a gazillionaire like Batman.”

“Does Batman have Legos in the Batcave?”

Batman has bloodied memorabilia of all the people he’s let down, Roy thinks privately, but says instead:

“No, but he has a dinosaur.”

“A real one?”

“No. It’s like the one’s out of Jurassic Park. A robot dinosaur.”

“A robot dinosaur,” Lian says rapturously. “Can we visit sometime? With Uncle Dick?”

I am never letting either of you near him ever again, is the correct answer, as much as Dick would throw a fit over it. Roy clears his throat, rubs at his eyes, and changes the subject.

“Maybe. But I want a school update. I didn’t get to talk to you about it, yesterday.”

“Well,” she stops, and he can hear her think it over. “I’m better at spelling than Cassidy, because she always forgets her ayches. But I taught her a trick for it. I can teach you too!”

My best friend was only eight, he thinks.

“Yeah, baby,” he says in a hoarse voice, and tilts back his head. “Tell me all about it.”

[starxanemone]

꩜ⴰ ࣪˖ FROM DUST TO DUST

michael kaiser x gender neutral!reader

you liked to see him crumble—from dust to dust.

warnings ! mdni ! sexual content — sub! brat!kaiser, dom!reader, praise kink, cock sucking, handjob, teasing and denial. also slight character exploration based on his backstory.

note — as a femdom, i am a firm and avid fan of the idea of submissive kaiser. oliver aiku is my next target. also, sorry this took a while : ( i'm busy with uni.

From dust to dust; there is nothing more beautiful than to view the evolution of things. A being grows—all supple skin and flesh and fragile bones—from a mere zygote, born from the fusion of sperm and egg.

And you think that man goes through the same cycle again and again throughout their life. From learning how to stand on one’s feet to no longer being able to do so. From seeking to finding, then to seeking again. From exalted kings to abdicated ones. All from different facets of the humans of society; they go back to their roots, ultimately. From dust to dust.

Michael Kaiser is nothing more than a mere cog born to inevitably contribute and connect with society that is just like him. Yes, by the gods, he was birthed, chosen to be an emperor, and how ethereal he truly is as he devours and rules lowly humans that grovel underneath him. No mercy was shown to anyone that attempted to overthrow his position, and not a simple glimpse was spared for those who raved on about the ‘impossible.’

He was arrogant and his mouth never knew when to stop running. But he would get what he deserves. Just like all the kings and queens, and emperors and empresses that stood before his rule.

They all fall down.

From dust to dust.

“Now, now… quiet down, liebling.” You hum, pressing your right hand tightly over his swollen pink lips. You know he loves it when you call him that, especially with the way his hard-on presses against your knee. He thrashes a little underneath you with his cheeks, ears, and exposed neck all tinted in pinkish and red hues.

You like to think that he looks like a work of art when he is like this. Not when he is in his most glorious state, but when he looks human in their rawest form. All supple skin and flesh ( you’d like to paint with your lips ) and fragile bones ( you’d like to caress ).

You pull downwards, cat-like eyes gazing intently into his half-lidded ones as you hover your face over his sweatpants. You press your cheek right against it teasingly, smiling a little in amusement when he glares down at you.

“Kitty’s got bite, hm?” You chuckle, rubbing your cheek against his crotch, feeling his cock twitch underneath the fabric as you massage his hips with your fingers.

“S-Shut up, a-ah—”

He spits out his words, though you get the feeling that it’s not as angry as he would have liked it to sound, especially with the way he holds back his moan and breathes heavily towards the end.

“Oh,” You pout mockingly. “But you wouldn’t be in this position if you weren’t being such a slut earlier. Like, seriously, making out with me in front of everyone and leaving a hickey on my neck where everyone could see? All because you were jealous of sweet little Yoichi?”

“S-Stop,” He rasps out, bringing his hands down to cup your cheeks to lift it up from his clothed cock.

You can tell that he’s irked with the way you call his rival ‘sweet.’ Your smile softens and you pull yourself up to plant your chin against his chest.

“Why are you so envious, mein schatz?” You bring your hand up, thumbing against his pink bottom lip. You watch in fascination as you press on the soft skin, nail biting onto the flesh, leaving a small crescent in its wake.

His lips part and you grin lazily, slipping your finger into his mouth to touch the wet muscle. Your eyes don’t miss the way his tongue runs over the tip of your finger, brushing over your nail before his mouth closes around it entirely.

You bring your other palm up to cup the side of his cheek as you sit up on his abdomen again. His electro-blue irises and sharp ebony pupils swallow you entirely as he sucks and licks on your finger willingly.

Oh how you loved seeing him crumble like this. All of his wits and pride dispersed with a flick of your fingers. You who have given him the feeling of something new—something so incredibly yet not supposed to be foreign for any living human. An emotion that he could only utter as a wistful wish underneath the eyes of the constellations.

Love. So this is love.

You pull your finger back, chuckling a little as he lifts his head up to chase for the sensation between his lips again before dropping his head back down upon realizing his actions. His cheeks are flushed cherry red and his brows are furrowed as if his senses had come back, and you know that he is beating himself up over the constant lapses of weakness before the gaze of someone else. But you don’t care about that.

It was never a weakness to choose to open up oneself to somebody.

You cup his cheek, firmly this time.

“Why are you always so envious? Tell me.”

But he was a stubborn one.

He keeps his lips pressed firmly, glaring up at you in a disobeying manner. It doesn’t look very intimidating with his black cotton shirt half-way lifted up on his upper body, his hair scattered around his head like a makeshift blue pearlescent crown, and the cute little wet patch marking his grey sweatpants.

“Not talking, hm? Okay, then. Fine. We’ll do it your way.” You hum in amusement before you’re snaking back down onto his hips.

In a split second, you grasp the garter of his sweatpants and pull it down, wordlessly gazing at the way his curved cock slaps at the skin below his belly button.

He hisses, “W-What are you—”

“Shut up. Don’t talk.” You murmur before dipping your head down to lick at the pinkish tip. It was already oozing with precum, bubbling and dripping down against the length of his cock, tracing a vein.

“F-Fuck—” He groans, throwing his head back against the pillows.

You pull your lips away from his cock and strike your palm against his inner thigh, leaving a red mark though not enough to cause any significant pain.

Nevertheless, he hisses, eyes widening in shock. “Why did you—”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?” Your hands smooth over the spot you had just hit before traveling north once more. When your hands reach its destination, you blink when you hear a silent whine leave his mouth.

“Please…” You hear him mumble and your gaze flickers upwards, seeing his disheveled state. Eyes half lidded with his soft lashes pointing southwards, cheeks turning a shade darker than it was previously.

His hips twitch upwards and your gaze softens.

“Okay,” You breathe out. “Okay.”

You have to admit. You cave in way too fast.

You place your hands on the sides of his bare hips, squeezing as you lick your tongue flat across the length of his cock, stopping near the tip. You keep your eyes trained on him and his gaze on yours, brows furrowed over.

You brush your tongue repeatedly against the underside of his pink tip—now all shiny underneath the fluorescent lights of your shared apartment from the mixture of precum and your saliva. His hips twitch and you immediately hold it down, digging your fingers against his skin, leaving marks on the flesh.

“P-Please,” He groans quietly, eyes closing. “Give me more, liebling. Please.”

“Hm?” You hum, tongue toying with his tip. The little crevice is soft and smooth against your touch, now all sensitive. You press your tongue against the underside of it harder before taking just the tip inside your mouth. Your fingers trace against the veins protruding the length of his cock teasingly. “But you haven’t— haven’t answered my question yet.”

You suck on his tip lightly, just enough to have his stomach and shoulders twitching, and hips buck between your hold.

“I-I want you to look at me!” He groans, body twitching when you trace your tongue with more pressure against his length repeatedly, humming a little as you listen to him speak. “I w-want you to look at me only and not that worthless, pathetic man. H-He won’t serve you half as good as I do. He can’t. I want you to love me, and me only.”

You pull away momentarily, chuckling at his uncharacteristic honesty. He whines at the sudden loss of your touch.

“Oh but I already do.” You smile, pressing your lips against the side of his stomach. “I love you, and only you.”

He doesn’t respond, simply staring down at you with pink cheeks and furrowed brows.

He never says ‘I love you' back.

But you already knew how he was. He was never used to the straightforward affection and loving words directed at him, but that never bothered you. Being with him entailed having the ability to read between the lines—it entailed being able to appreciate the little crevices and permanent folds that marred his shirt and was never able to learn how to iron. You appreciated the marks left behind by the past and the past that brought about this present—this gift—him, and only him.

And that was alright with you.

You loved him. You had the ability to build him up, make him crumble, and build him up again.

From dust to dust.

But mere dusts of cement clumped together could form a stable foundation, the same way a cluster of atoms can make up a single cell, and how multiple similar cells can form tissue.

You loved him from dust to dust.

You lick a stripe up from the base of your palm up to your fingers, keeping your eyes trained on his and his to yours and what you were doing, before encircling your fingers around the length of his cock, pumping him up and down slowly. He jolts and heaves out a breathy moan each time your hand squeezes at the right areas, up towards his shiny pink tip leaking with his fluids and down once again. Your other hand plays with his balls and you grin at the way he throws his head back, eyes rolling up.

“You must be so tired, mein schatz, but it’s okay, you can come to me. I will always be here to make you feel better.” You mewl, smiling up at him with half-lidded eyes.

“A-Ah, fuck, don’t speak like that to me, I-I’m gonna cum—” He bucks his hips helplessly, whining.

“But why?” You giggle, tilting your head innocently, “Can’t I speak like that to the person I love?”

“S-Stop, haah—” He brings his hands up to cover half of his red face, blue eyes glaring down at yours, but you don’t falter.

“My poor baby,” You pout, pumping your hand against his cock upwards and brushing your thumb against his tip. You hear him choke a little. “You’re so beautiful and you work so hard! I’m so proud of you, hm?”

“H-Haah— I-I’m gonna, gonna cum!”

"Give it to me, my love."

His hips buck against your hand a few more times before he’s shooting spurts of his cum onto your face. He moans, eyes squeezing shut.

You shut your eyes, feeling the liquid spill all over your face for a few seconds.

After a while, you open your eyes to him breathing in and out deeply, his body laying limply on the bed with sweat thinly coating every inch of his skin.

You chuckle, wiping the cum off your face and bringing your hand up to taste it.

He raises his brow as you do so and scowls. “Don’t— don’t do that. That’s dirty.”

“And I happen to be a dirty person. I don't mind." You grin, licking your hand.

He’s silent for a while before he speaks up.

“But is it true?”

“What?” You question curiously, laying right beside him flat on your back. You turn your head to look into his eyes levelly.

“That you,” He purses his lips, voice growing more silent. “Love me?”

You smile, genuinely this time.

“Of course.”

From dust to dust.

[tarotenvelhecida]

pick a card– which book speaks to your soul?

You read something which you thought only happened to you, and you discover that it happened 100 years ago to Dostoyevsky. This is a very great liberation for the suffering, struggling person, who always thinks that he is alone. This is why art is important.

—Conversations with James Baldwin.

this is my love letter to all the bookworms in the tarot community— pick a pile & i'll give you a list of genres + book suggestions carrying important messages to you.

I. THE FIRST

To the daydreamers and the escapists; to the ones that need to rest before following what you need follow.

RELEVANT GENRES & CONCEPTS– fiction in general; romance; fantasy; fairytale; poetry; ‘happy ever after’ endings; hopeful endings; fantasy; magic; dreamy.

AUTHORS – Ursula K. Le Guin; Louise Gluck; Mary Oliver; Jane Austen.

BOOKS FOR YOU–

‘The Paper Garden: An Artist Begins Her Life’s Work at 72 – Molly Peacock'

‘Good Bones – Maggie Smith’

‘If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho – Translation by Anne Carson’

‘Owls and Other Fantasies – Mary Oliver’

‘Dog Songs – Mary Oliver’

‘Emma – Jane Austen’

‘Howl’s Moving Castle – Diana Wynne Jones’

‘The Little Prince – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’

‘Death Comes for the Archbishop – Willa Cather’

‘Sonnets from the Portuguese – Elizabeth Barrett Browning’

‘The Hawk and the Dove – Penelope Wilcock’

‘The Secret Life of the Lonely Doll: The Search for Dare Wright’

‘The Ink Dark Moon – Ono no Komachi & Izumi Shikibu’

‘Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll’

‘The Letters of Vita Sackville-West and Virginia Woolf’

‘Little Women – Louisa May Alcott’

‘Anne of Green Gables – L.M. Montgomery’

‘Kissing the Witch: Old Tales in New Skins – Emma Donoghue’

II. THE SECOND

For the ones that carry the ache to learn and know everything; to the ones bored with life's commodities & seriousness. For the ones that question everything around them – as they should do.

You do not need to fit in. Don't change yourself for other people. If they want to see you this way, then become the proud witch in the edge of the woods.

RELEVANT GENRES & CONCEPTS– books on 'niche' knowledge; science; philosophy; true crime; drama; scandalous romances; adventure, magical realism; YA thriller & horror; comedy & sardonic comedy; ‘controversial’/'weird' books.

AUTHORS– Carmen Maria Machado, Kate Moore, Grady Hendrix.

BOOKS FOR YOU–

‘My Sister, The Serial Killer – Oyinkan Braithwaite'

‘The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales – Oliver Sacks'

‘St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves – Karen Russell'

‘Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife – Mary Roach’

‘The Hitchhiker Guide to Galaxy – Douglas Adams'

‘Inferno – Dante Alighieri'

'Magic for Beginners – Kelly Link'

‘Lace Bone Beast: Poems & Other Fairytales for Wicked Girls – N.L. Shompole'

‘Severed: A History of Heads Lost and Heads Found – Frances Larson’

'The Woman They Could Not Silence – Kate Moore'

‘The Dictionary of Lost Words – Pip Williams'

‘She Kills Me: The True Stories of History’s Deadliest Women – Jennifer Wright’

‘Anatomy: A Love Story – Dana Schwartz'

‘Pretty Dead Queens – Alexa Donne'

‘I’m Glad My Mom Died – Jennette McCurdy'

'Rabid: A Cultural History of the World's Most Diabolical Virus – Bill Wasik'

‘Chilling Adventures of Sabrina – Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa’

III. THE THIRD

You need to put your sadness somewhere. If you can't, remember that someone has done it before – and transformed it into a story. Let the words you'll read be the resting place for whatever you're feeling right now; let yourself remember that not even your pain is lonely in this world.

RELEVANT GENRES AND CONCEPTS— poetry; gothic horror; thrillers; murder mysteries; tragedies; cathartic stories; biographies.

AUTHORS– Shirley Jackson, Osamu Dazai, Clarice Lispector, Sylvia Plath.

BOOKS FOR YOU—

'The Year of Magical Thinking – Joan Didion'

‘The Dead – James Joyce'

‘What The Living Do – Marie Howe'

‘The Hour of the Star – Clarice Lispector'

‘Why This World: A Biography of Clarice Lispector’

‘Some of Us Did Not Die – June Jordan'

Somewhere Towards the End – Diana Athill'

‘We Have Always Lived in The Castle – Shirley Jackson'

'Heaven: A Novel – Mieko Kawakami'

'Journal of a Solitude – May Sarton'

'Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte'

'Grief is the Thing with Feathers – Max Porter'

‘Carrie – Stephen King'

'Of Dogs and Walls – Yuko Tsushima'

'Frankenstein – Mary Shelley'

'The Stepping Off Place – Cameron Kelly'

'Letters to Milena – Franz Kafka'

‘Beloved – Toni Morrison'

[rhaegang]

i know it's an overdone trope but... persephone felix and hades oliver, what are your thoughts?

My thoughts are YES. There’s just a massive stack of different myths to play with where these saltboys can easily be involved, but this one is such a core myth, you know?? And it’s pretty obvious that a lot of the appeal of cattonquick is the duality and the contrasts — light and dark, big and small, extrovert and introvert etc. That’s obviously true of this myth, too.

I think it would be extremely interesting to see someone approach it from the reverse, also. Hades certainly has more power in their dynamic, and draws Persephone into an entire realm that’s foreign to her, that would come with its own customs etc. I can definitely see Saltburn as the underworld and Oliver as a fairly innocent but sharp-tongued Persephone whose darkness is only awakened by proximity to the beautiful, congenial, yet callously cruel and selfish Felix / Hades…???

I love how it could work either way for them, and that makes my brain buzz with how they are! The same! Somehow! I don’t know how Emerald, Barry & Jacob did it but they fully managed to convince me that Oliver and Felix are the same person split into two bodies with two wildly different upbringings. Not even twins separated at birth kind of thing, but one soul cleaved in two. They seem!!! So different!!! But I don’t believe it. I believe they are Enmeshed. They are made of the same stuff, somehow.

(though wouldn’t it be fun to do like, a historic fantasy where Queen Elspeth birthed two boys and they disposed of the smaller quieter babe to avoid any disputes over who would be the heir…but instead of killing the boy, a guard or the wet nurse sold it to a modest merchant whose wife had given him four lovely daughters but who was still in need of a son…and one day that merchant’s son happens to save the prince from a runaway carriage or something and is summoned to the castle keep…)

Anyway. Back to Hades & Persephone.

Oliver doesn’t mind his work. It’s consistent, it’s predictable, it’s necessary. He has plenty of time to himself, and he has all the knowledge of the ages available to him — any scholar who has ever lived has also died or will one day, and their great minds are available for his perusal.

But it is cold, and sometimes much too quiet, and he’s so very tired of being merely tolerated by the other gods. He works hard, much harder than many of them, and he deserves recognition and respect. He deserves more than their disdain and rejection.

He knows saying this would matter little. If he wants something, he’ll have to make it happen for himself. After all — he works hard. Why shouldn’t he benefit from his own efforts now and then?

Felix is naive and trusting, and much too loose-tongued when he’s drunk. He says more than he ought to, considering that Oliver is a stranger to him, but he’s sun warm and charming and no one would ever, ever think to hurt him — he’s a child of Demeter and Zeus!

So he says more than he ought to, including that he is so very, very bored by making things grow. He doesn’t want to do Demeter’s work all the damn time. He’s tired of being forever gilded by the sun, of being enrobed in the cloying scent of fresh flowers, of the adoration of every living thing.

“…and what if you were adored by a dead thing?”

It’s such a strange question, and Felix is so drunk, cheeks and mouth flushed with wine, that he laughs.

He laughs, but when Oliver beside him does not laugh, Felix turns to look at him properly.

And he sees, very briefly, the shadow of a great scythe. He sees, for a mere moment, those sharp blue eyes embedded in a death mask, suspended in dark and empty sockets of bleached bone.

What falls from Felix’s mouth is not a laugh, then, but a gasp.

Terror grips him, and it makes him tremble, and everyone knows he’s easily scared. Everyone knows that, so later, everyone believes that he must have been too scared to run. He must have been too frightened to fight back.

Everyone understands that it isn’t Felix’s fault that he disappears, that in his absence the growing things stop growing, that the warm sun turns its face away, that winter comes for the very first time. It’s much easier to blame Oliver, the strange one, the Other, for all that. It’s easier to believe that Oliver must have taken Felix away than it is to believe he simply left of his own accord.

It’s easier for everyone to believe that, but only because they’ve never been to where Oliver comes from. They’ve never felt the calm, the cold, the peace of the place. And they’ve never felt how it feels to have Oliver’s complete, rapturous attention, to be preferred over all others by He who knows every soul that’s ever lived. They’ve never felt how it feels to be held in the arms that will one day reap the entire world.

They have never kissed him and tasted their own oblivion.

They know nothing, and that’s why they believe they must bring Felix back to where they think he belongs.

But Felix eats, willingly, fed from Oliver’s hand, and he will wait. He will lie naked in the summer fields and let himself grow sun warm again, let the scent of flowers cling to his skin, let the vibrating, screaming chaos of all this busy life sink in and swell inside himself. He’ll soak up the love of the living, and then some day soon, he’ll spill all of it into Oliver, empty himself out like an upturned bottle of wine, a ready vessel waiting to be filled up again with something new.

Something quiet, and cold. Something that terrifies him. Something he chose.

[remosdeerica]

Summary: Jade has brought Lian to the only person she could think of to protect her now that Roy is dead: Damian al Ghul.

[Context: this is set in my AU where Damian has adopted a bunch of Villain's kids. The 11yr old mentioned is Zoe Lawton.

TW: there are allegations to postpartum depression and abortion but nothing explicit.]

"You can't be serious. Nguyen, this is insane."

"There is no one else. She is not safe with me."

Damian took a sharp breath through his nose in frustration as he stared Cheshire down. She looked ragged. Tired in a way he had never seen her before, though unless you had known her for as long as he had you would never be able to tell.

In her arms was a bundle. Small, wrapped in a pink fuzzy blanket. Damian knew what that bundle was, and as he had just stated, it was asinine for her to have brought it to him of all people.

"What about, Queen? If the child is truly Harper's like you claim her to be, would it not make more sense for her to be with her adopted Grandfather?" Damian tried to reason.

Jade gave him a hard look. "Do you truly wish me to entrust the safety of my only child to Oliver Queen?

Okay, Damian could at least concede that Queen being given access to an infant was a horrible idea. Especially so fresh after he and Canary have split for what he assumed was the umpteenth time.

"I just don't understand why you would bring her to me. I can not be your first choice."

"Of course not," Jade snapped. "My first choice is dead."

Damian could admit he felt a modicum of guilt at invoking the thought of Roy Harper's demise. Especially as he was seemingly to be given the privilege of being the first to meet his daughter, when by all rights it should have been him.

"You aren't even my second choice," she continued.

"Who was?"

"Jason."

"Todd?" Damian asked.

It would make sense, he supposed. From what he understood he, Harper and Jade had all had some form of… arrangement. Harper being the focal point. Damian had only witnessed Jason and Harper together once, but they had looked so disgustingly in love that he made sure to never have to be in the same room with them again, if he could help it.

Grimly, he thought that would no longer be a problem.

But the problem with Jason being her second choice is that shortly before Harper's death, he and Father had some falling out in regards to the Penguin and he went off grid. Damian wasn't even sure if he knew his lover was no longer living.

"Yes, Jason." She said, "but though hard as I try I can not find him."

Damian sighed. "I'm not surprised. When Todd wants to disappear he makes sure that even Father can't find him. But I still don't understand the logic of me being your third choice."

Jade laughed bitterly. "Do you not understand, Little Prince?"

Damian winced. She had not called him that since they had been in the League.

"You are not my third choice. You are my only choice. There is no one else. I have no one else to trust."

The pair shared a long look amidst the silence of the cold night air.

"The Justice League would help you, Jade." He said, softly. It was not often he showed others this kindness. But he knew deep in his bones the hysterical and bitter feeling of having no one to trust. No one to rely on. It was part of the reason he had gone about collecting his little band of misfits. So at least he could be someone to trust, even partly.

Jade scoffed as she tightened her arms around her daughter.

"Please," she spat. "Like they protected Roy? Or Jason? Or you?

Damian had to look away from her glare.

"The Justice League can not even protect their own children! I can not- will not- entrust them to protect mine."

"But why me?" He shouted, demanding to know what the woman was thinking. "I'm seventeen. I live with a handful of other teenagers and an eleven year old. We don't even stay in one place for more than a few weeks. Not to mention that said eleven year old is also being hunted because of her connection to her father. Your child will not be any safer from your enemies with me, Jade."

"Perhaps not. But she will be safe from me."

Damian felt a growing sense of unease as he saw a deep hollowness take over Jade's eyes. He didn't have to wait long for her to elevorate.

"Sometimes she just… cries. And cries and cries and one night I- I almost- I could have-" she took a shuddering breath. Damian had never seen her this shaken. " I thought I could do this. I thought I could love her enough to be what she needed. But I'm not… I'm not built for this. For the… softness that she needs. It's just not in me."

Damian felt his heart twinge as he watched a single tear trickle from her eye.

"I tried. We're she anyone's but his… I would have terminated. But I… I couldn't bear to bring myself to kill the last part of him that remained in this world. I tried for her, for Roy, but… I'm just not built to take care of anyone but myself."

Damian opened his mouth to say something. What, he didn't know. But he felt she deserves to hear something.

She, however, interrupted him.

"But you are," she said, her voice nearly more than a whisper. Then stronger, " I have known you since you were a boy. I have witnessed you in many parts of your life. And what you have always demonstrated, without ever giving it conscious thought, is your ability to care for those you consider under your protection. Those you consider your own."

"My brother's would very much disagree with you."

Her lips twitched upwards. "You are a good man, Damain al Ghul. You always have been. Even all those years ago. I know that you will guard my child with your life. And that you will take the life of others in her defense, should you find it necessary."

Damian felt his shoulders sag in defeat.

"I still don't think this is a good idea. What exactly is your plan?"

Knowing she had won, Jade drew her shoulders back.

"Find Jason," she said, authoritatively. "He is who she has left now."

"And if he won't take her? Or if… he can't?"

"Do whatever you have to do to keep her safe."

Damian sighed for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night. "I supposed that's all I really can do."

He lifted his arms towards her to take the child.

[akariamai]

Glitch [Part 3]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Pairing: Tommy Merlyn x Reader

Word Count: 1228

You couldn’t help but shake as you neared the Meryln residence. Cooking had always been a world of passion for you, but everything had to go smoothly today. Today is the day you will meet your recently found best friend. You could feel yourself getting cold feet. Oliver Queen was not just Tommy’s best friend, but his chosen brother. What if he didn’t like you? Would it be the end of your relationship?

‘It’s just a dinner.’ You thought, ‘An important dinner with an important figure in Tommy’s life.’

You never felt this way when you had an impromptu dinner with Tommy’s father, Malcolm Merlyn. He had invited himself to one of your more extravagant dates and took the liberty to introduce himself to his son’s ‘current bed warmer’ (his words, not Tommy’s).

You know you wouldn’t be able to survive another embarrassment. Tommy doesn’t hold his father’s opinion in any regard, but Oliver is different. Despite his flaws, Tommy held Olivier in high regard.

Tommy did not take kindly to his father’s words. He promptly cursed his father for speaking in such a way to you, swiftly paid the bill, and got you away from his father and his venomous words. After the horrendous dinner, Tommy apologized for the interruption and his father’s callous words.

‘Please let this dinner turn out better.’

You parked your car, gathered the grocery bags, and walked up towards the door. One of the maids gave you a gentle smile before allowing you inside. You vaguely remember the way to the kitchen. After the encounter with Tommy’s father, the two of you didn’t spend much time at Tommy’s place.

You called out his name before stepping into the exceptionally spacious kitchen. It was the type of kitchen you would see on television—the type advertised to be for the middle class but clearly for the filthy rich. The kind that is just for show and never used.

“Here.” He turned to you with a bright smile. He was finally getting his dream: his best friend and girl were about to meet. It was something he thought would only stay a dream, but somehow it became reality.

You turned your attention away from him and onto the new kitchenware. He definitely bought them for this occasion, even though you offered to bring your cooking utensils. You had even insisted on hosting the dinner at your place, but he had a vision of how things would play out.

You shook your head in disbelief. “You didn’t have to buy all of this.” The equipment alone must’ve cost a fortune, and what a waste if it was only used once.

“How else am I supposed to show off that I am an amazing cook?” He joked. “I need to have proof, don’t I?”

You hummed, “And what have you cooked in this kitchen? Let alone the new kitchenware.”

He shook his head and raised his hands. “It is not about what I have or haven’t cooked in this kitchen. It is about the possibilities of what I can make. Especially for the love of my life and my best friend.”

You could almost feel your heart bursting out of your chest. ‘The love of his life’ It was like hearing your favorite song on the radio. It felt like a warm blanket was wrapping you up on a chilly winter night.

“That sounds like someone who has never worked a bone in this kitchen.” You say, almost daring him to disagree with you, before raising an eyebrow, “Am I wrong?”

He gripped his white shirt in what was supposed to be anguish. “How could you attack my ego so unapologetic? I thought we had something good.” He wasn’t the best actor; his feeble illusion was shattered by the laughter coming through his words.

You joined in, laughing until your stomach hurt. “I just want to keep my man on Earth with me. I can’t have him floating away.”

His composure shattered, and he erupted in laughter. His laugh, his genuine laugh, was so light and gentle. It reminded you of the wind chimes your grandmother would hang out on the porch as the wind created music. You would never tire of hearing his laugh.

He clapped his hands and brought you back from your daydream. “Let’s get started! I want to show off my skills.”

“Or lack thereof.” You joked.

“Hey!” He pouted. He watched as you removed the ingredients from the brown paper bags. “What do you want me to do, chief?”

“Did you preheat the ovens like I told you?” You asked about covering several sheet pans with aluminum foil.

“Yes.” He said, “One was set at 225 and the other at 450.”

“Perfect.” You gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Take the mini medley potatoes and wash them before placing them on this.” You pointed at one of the olive oil-covered pans and said, “Pan and smash them with the bottom of the jar.”

Tommy exclaimed, “Yes, chef!” You could hear him take the potatoes to the sink and turn on the water while you seasoned the bone-in rib eye with salt and pepper.

The time the two of you spent making the perfect dinner felt so mundane. It was something you could imagine doing for the rest of your life with him. Tommy was not your first boyfriend, but he was the first to spend time with you in the kitchen. Normally, you would be busy cooking dinner while they played video games with their friends. You used to do it alone, but these two of you were perfect. You would give anything to continue to have moments like this.

‘Oliver should be here soon.’ You busied yourself by mindlessly plating the uncut rib eye onto the decorative platter. As you did so, Tommy spent his time stabbing toothpicks onto the Bourbon Glaze bacon-wrapped shrimp and moving them to a different plate.

As the two of you continued to finish up, a roar sounded out from Tommy’s stomach, which led to the two of you laughing. “All this work made me hungry.” He rubbed his stomach sheepishly. “Oliver needs to get here soon, or else I’ll riot.”

“He’ll be here soon.” You reassured him before handing him the shrimp. “Go put this on the table.”

“Yes chef!”

Almost as if you could read his thoughts, you called out, “And no snacking!” You could only hear a disappointed groan as you watched him walk into the dining room and disappear. You thought, ‘He was the love of your life. He was your person.’ You would climb mountains to be his.

You were thankful to have Tommy in your life. He showed you the love authors write about—a love you once thought only existed inside the pages of a novel, and you prayed this was real. And that you didn’t conjure him up in your imagination.

You portioned out the cuts of the rib eye in your mind before slicing into it. The slices should not be too big or too small. Each slice should carry enough chimichurri sauce to melt in your mouth.

Once you finished, you washed your hands and checked to see if you had acquired any stains on your clothing. When you deemed yourself presentable, the doorbell rang, and your body tightened. Dinner was about to commence.

Masterlist

Tag: @twilightlover2007

[drunktuesdays]

Final reckoning for my friend's book challenge she runs for our group chat. I didn't make blackout but I AM happy with how much i ended up reading. Self indulgently posting my list under the cut!!!!!

14. A book mentioned in another book - Three Men In A Boat, Jerome K. Jerome (recommended by @asimplequery) 23. A book that features a language you're not fluent in - Cemetery Boys, Aiden Thomas 29. A book from a genre you don't usually read -  I'm Glad My Mom Died, Jennette McCurdy 30. A book you last read at least ten years ago - Timequake, Kurt Vonnegut 34. A book that makes you smarter - On Writing, Stephen King 36. A book that makes you cry - The Dutch House, Ann Patchett 37. A book that you consider a page-turner - The Girl In The Tower, Katherine Arden 41. A book inspired by real events/ people - The Terror, Dan Simmons 43. A book that addresses sexism/ feminism - Bad Mormon, Heather Gay (lmao i should be shot for this) 49. A book concerning death - The Book of Night, Holly Black 55. A book with found family - Bet Me, Jennifer Crusie 60. A book set in summer - Reckless Girls, Rachel Hawkins 61. A book set in winter - Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula Le Guin (recommended by @vivathewilddog and i think this was my favorite book i read this year. did you know reading good authors is good?) 67. A book with an antihero - The Ninth House, Leah Bardugo 69. A book with a character who shares your name -  The Secret Book of Flora Lea, Patti Callahan Henry (recommended by @prairiedaun) 74. A book whose protag. is different from you in a significant way - Siren Queen, Nghi Vo 79. A book published under a pseudonym - The Cinderella Deal, Jennifer Crusie 85. A book with a one-word title - Pnin, Vladimir Nabokov (recommended by @eggtrolls) 89. A book that shares its title with a song - Never Let Me Go, Kazuo Ishiguro (recommended by @sarahcakes613 ) 90. A book with an ampersand in the title - Nettle & Bone, T. Kingfisher 91. A book with a number in the title - The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August, Catherine Webb 95. A book that uses three or fewer colors on the cover - Devil House, John Darnielle FREE SPACE Cold Sassy Tree, Olive Ann Burns

[canonically47]

Share the Disventure Camp thoughts Geo. Also, now that you've seen both seasons, what are your All Stars predictions?

oliver was one of the best parts of the season and i loved him so much ohhh the skrunkle

aiden & james were my favorite characters i think! <333 i really liked their development i love gay people i screamed at their first real kiss

it took a while for me to get used to every character because of their mics and acting. some of the acting was not believable at all and was the reason i dislikes some characters for a bit (cough rosa maria cough) before eventually warming up to them. it’s clear they improved a lot and found better actors for season 1. i’m curious how the S2 actors will be in S3.

maggy was genuinely annoying and not just because of her voice. sorry :(

lake was amazing!! i loved her arc!

connor was a good guy and i liked him, but i wouldn’t have brought him back for all-stars and i definitely wouldn’t have paired him with riya. that 21 year age gap is not looking good.

I LOVED HUNTESSALLY SO MUCH OH MY GOD THEY ARE EVERYTHING TO ME POLY REPRESENTATION IN MEDIA IS THE BEST STOP I WILL CRY OMGMGMGMGGM why are they fighting in the S3 opening. someone save me. huntessally stay strong. STAY STRONG!!!!!

WHY IS YUL YELLOW 💀 also i hated his ass “a latina stealing why doesn’t that surprise me” NAH MF YOU CANNOT BE REDEEMED I’M SORRY MAN YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN 💀

anyone wanna talk about how weird some challenges were? no? like making people kiss other people just for a challenge? i know it’s fiction but? what if someone is uncomfortable with it? yk? my aro ass couldn’t watch most of those scenes like ik it was to make some ships kiss and probably appeal to the fans but nah. you lost me brah. and outing aiden (while not specifically saying his name but yk) like. wow. this is. not fun! weird episodes

karol fuck you

riya, thin ice, i like you for your assholery but leaving aiden hanging left ME hanging as a fan of both. sadge

ally should’ve been a scene kid that’s all i came here to say

fuck you yul hope ur the first boot of S3

why was nina there. /vvvneg

now for predictions/wishes:

YUL FIRST BOOT WOOHOO 💯💯💯 /hj

if i don’t get gabellie & tessally alliance i will actually cry myself to sleep for those entire ten months the show will be airing i mean it guys i’m so fucking serious /j

alec and fiore need to make up or i will actually go bonkers and die

yul first boot

trevek do gay shit & krystal breaks them apart every time because they’re so cringe every time they flirt or something not in the high school couple way but just sooo fucking bad at flirting that it is physically damaging to everyone around them

nina dies in a fire YAY!!! WOOHOO!!! PARTY!!! (seriously she was the most annoying gimmick of the season hope she just disappears and its not brought up ever)

maybe. if connor is there. and he gives advice. he can give alec and fiore advice. right. right guys. I MISS MY FATHER-DAUGHTER DUO OKAY WAAAAAAA

jake will be a fucking idiot and hate aiden for NO reason because he is a fucking idiot. love him tho but i was hoping he wouldn’t be as insecure in s3 like girl get a therapist cmon

if i don’t get james-tom friendship.......

miriam early boot 😞 sorry queen 😞 i got this feeling 😞 inside my bones 😞

ashley early boot (pleasepleaseplease WHO ASKED FOR HER TO BE HERE i wanted nick or kai back so bad omfg)

this is more based on a fanart i saw but fiore should totally terrorize aiden and aiden just hates her ass

i want the teams to form then switch a bit so that there’s both s1 and s2 contestants on both teams bc wdym the teams are s1 and s2. thats the worst decision yet and the season hasnt even started

[geneeste]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @mrv3000 like, last year, but we'll just pretend that isn't true!

1. how many works do you have on Ao3? 53

2. what’s your total Ao3 word count?

It's about to be higher, but currently 236,415 (89k of that is co-written with @machawicket, though, so I can't claim it all!)

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Arrow, Stargate SG-1, Bones, Timeless, Pitch, and a few others that are sort of incidental to the main ones.

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

I'm pretty sure all of these are going to end up being Arrow fics (Genie's note: ha! I was right!):

Our Version of Events falling in reverse Chips and Dip (With a Side of Sparkle) Cabin in the Woods The Male Prostitute in the Club With His (Word Redacted Due to Content)

5. do you respond to comments?

I try really hard to!

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

I was going to say Forfeit (SG-1), but honestly I think it's a toss up between that and time's right but the clock's wrong (Arrow).

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

This one's tough, because my angst to happy ratio can be pretty hight in my fics, but in terms of, like, purest fluff, probably How the Day Sounds (Arrow).

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have, especially in the Arrow fandom because it's probably the biggest (and therefor has the most potential for toxicity), but it disappears fast.

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

LOL yep! I do write explicit smut, but even that is pretty vanilla (which is not to say that's bad, and maybe one day I'll write kink, but I haven't yet).

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

I imagine a lot of crossovers, but I rarely write them. The only one I've done (to my recollection) that didn't involve characters from different shows but still in roughly the same universe was The Male Prostitute in the Club With His (Word Redacted Due to Content) (Arrow), in which Oliver Queen met his doppelganger, Jason from Hung. It was ridiculous, and fittingly, my first fic in that fandom.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. Honestly, for the most part my fic is too short for most people to bother with, I think.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

I wish!

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

Absolutely! There's obviously Our Version of Events with @machawicket, and I wrote a few SG-1 fic with @danveresque back in the day. I really enjoy co-writing, although I'm almost always the one slowing us down.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Sam/Jack from Stargate SG-1. It was my first love and the only one I come back to over and over.

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

I am reserving my 5th amendment right not to incriminate myself.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like to think I'm pretty good at characterization and nailing a character's voice. I also enjoy writing dialogue, although I don't know that that makes me good at it. I'm also pretty good at hitting the emotions I want to hit in a scene and also writing emotional complexity.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing consistently and to completion is a big weakness -- a result of poor executive function skills and high perfectionism, ha. I'm also great at coming up with big sweeping plots and terrible at executing the details of them. And, until recently, I clung a little too much to thinking fic needs to be realistic and grounded -- now I understand that fic can be as ridiculous as I want, because what matters is how much fun I have writing it and whether it gives me the serotonin I'm seeking (as @mrv3000 put it).

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

I'm incredibly impressed by folks who might be polyglots who can do this. I, sadly, cannot.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I honestly don't remember! I have a notoriously bad memory of my childhood and I got into fandom very early. But the first fandom I published a fic in was Stargate SG-1.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

This is like asking who my favorite child is. I don't think I can answer with just one! Favorite funny fic is probably Cabin in the Woods (Arrow). Favorite fic where I just slid easily into the character's voices? Probably the devil's right there in the details (Timeless). Favorite (and only) remix? reclaim (the destiny rules remix) (Stargate SG-1). Favorite angsty fic (of which there are maaaany), probably god himself would call it justice (Arrow).

I'm trying to remember who recently I know has been writing -- I'm going to zero-pressure tag these just a few people, but if you're writing, consider yourself tagged! @annerbhp @mylittleredgirl @sharim28 @joracwyn @starrybouquet @anretc @tielan

[skylarmoon71]

Luther Wainwright (The Mentalist/Arrow)- Oneshot

The throbbing headache confirmed that once again Jane’s antics had gotten you into some deep mess.

You groaned, lifted your hands, but the shackles at your wrists prevented you from massaging the ache at the back of your skull. When you were finally able to collect yourself, a smiling Jane and displeased Wainwright were on the other side of the room.

“Hey Queen.”

You growled, and Wainwright sighed heavily.

“You said this was safe Jane!!” You fired.

“It was supposed to be. I didn’t think they would actually attack law enforcement.” Jane defended.

Both men were handcuffed to a pole. You were just laying on the floor. It’s clear your assailants expected you to be out longer. You never saw it coming when they struck you, no wonder your brain felt like it was going to explode.

“Why the hell did you have to piss off the mafia!!” Wainwright was annoyed for obvious reasons.

“It’s not my fault they're a bunch of killers.”

From the looks of your surroundings you were in some kind of storage room. Spacious. It was only a matter of time before they came back. You need to work fast.

You straightened the best you could against the wall, letting out a labored breath.

“Agent Queen, are you alright?” Wainwright sounds worried and you nod with a frown.

“Just peachy. “

This wasn’t looking great. Just as you were about to formulate a plan, the air shifted. When you could no longer hear the back and forth from Jane and Wainwright you looked up, no surprise they were both frozen.

“Damn it Oliver, I don't need your help!”

He stepped out from the shadows, arms folded.

“It’s nice to see you too sis.” His sarcasm was expected.

“Aren’t you some sentinel being or something. Shouldn’t you be frolicking in some celestial meadow. I keep telling you that I have this handled.”

“It looks handled.”

“I don’t need a babysitter okay, I was just taking a breather before I saved these two.”

“I know.”

His expression softened, and your anger dissipated, eyes lowering. The reason you were often angry was how sudden he’d seem to vanish. His sacrifice was necessary, you understood that, but it still hurt. Once every couple years he’d pop in and as much as you acted pissed, you were always happy to see that at least he was okay.

“That’s for looking out, Oliver. I..I love you.”

He smiled, kneeling as he placed a hand on your cheek, kissing your forehead.

“I love you too, tell Thea I said hello.” You grin.

“Will do.”

He returned the smile, eyes glowing green.

“Make sure you show those guys everything I taught you.”

That makes you smirk.

“You know I will.”

One blink and he’s gone. Suddenly you feel a bit more energized. His visits always tended to do that.

“Alright, we’re getting out of here.”

“Your newfound confidence is inspiring but we’re all still bound.” Jane retorts.

You rolled your eyes, and when he saw you grab your right thumb he was a bit confused. You broke the bone and they both flinched. Without missing a beat you slipped your hand out of the cuff.

“How long have you been able to do that?” Wainwright seems both impressed and terrified.

“Pretty long.” You popped the bone back in place and they flinched again.

“That’s unsettling.” Jane speaks.

“If we stay here trust me, a broken thumb would be the least of our problems.”

Moving over to them, you freed them from the cuffs. Since you no longer had your weapons, the only solution was to fight.

“Stay here.” Your order made Wainwright do a double take.

“Excuse me, there’s no way I’m letting you walk out there and-”

His lecture was interrupted when the door opened and a man walked in with a gun.

All he did was lift it and you were on him in seconds. You grabbed his arm, bending it over your shoulder when you spun around and he screamed as the bone broke, effectively dropping his gun. His body fell and you grabbed the gun. Checking the bullets, you kneeled searching his pockets. You smiled when you found the phone.

“Jackpot.” You tossed it to Wainwright who caught it easily.

“Call the calvary, we’re gonna need it.”

Your assailant was still groaning on the ground.

“A few ambulances too, things are about to get messy.”

He intended to ask what exactly that meant, but you rushed out the door just as the gunshots started to go off. Wainwright ducked, quickly dialing a number as he alerted the police of the predicament. Jane would jolt every time he heard a gun go off. For the next few moments all they could hear was yells of pain and gunshots.

When it finally ended, Wainwright lowered the cellphone hesitantly and Jane stayed behind the door shaking his head.

“I’m not going out there.”

Wainwright just groaned in frustration as he grabbed the handle. He was cautious, just barely peeking out the door. He was stunned at the sight when he pushed it open all the way. Jane followed behind, careful to stay behind him.

He looked around at the many bodies on the floor. At least a dozen men. All of them seemed to be breathing. Indications of blood splatter on their legs and a few that appeared to be at the shoulder. Wainwright heard movement and he spun around just as you did. You lowered your gun with a smile, the single cuff still hanging off your wrist.

“Oh, it’s just you. Did you call for help?”

He nodded a bit distracted.

“Agent, did you..do this?”

“Well I wasn’t gonna sit around and wait for them to send us swimming with the fishes.”

You slipped your gun into the back of your pants, moving over to them.

“Jane was right though, I found your killer. It was Don’s second in command.”

“That’s great, did you see him?” Wainwright asked.

“Oh yeah he’s here somewhere.”

You looked around at the bodies, searching for the man. When you spotted him you grin. You walked to the wall. He was moaning at the bullet wound in his thigh. You grabbed him by the edge of his suit pants, pulling him over. He yelled as you dragged him all the way over to Wainwright. Dropping his leg harshly, you just smiled.

“He confessed to everything, when Lisbon gets here he’s going to show us the murder weapon and the money he stole, isn’t that right?”

He nodded, desperate.

“Yes! Yes I’ll tell you anything just get this crazy chick away from me!!”

“Aww, that’s not nice. Don’t make me shoot you again sweetie.” He looked scared and you just sent a thumbs up at Wainwright.

“You’re a terrifying woman.” Jane comments.

In that moment they both realized that it was good that you’d decided to become a cop instead of a criminal.

~~

Lisbon made it with the team in record time. While you sat in the back of an ambulance having your head checked out, officers were raiding the warehouse. Cho and Rigsby were on their way to get the evidence needed to put your criminal away for life. Jane seemed to be telling Lisbon a tale of how you’d taken down a room full of armed men. If his wild hand gestures were anything to go off.

Wainwright walked over to your side and the medic moved to give you both a moment.

“Great work today Agent.”

“Thanks, but I can’t take all the credit. My brother helped me.”

“Your brother?”

You nod. It sounded a bit crazy. You knew that. They were all aware that your brother had passed away. At least as far as they knew. You couldn’t exactly tell them he’d sacrificed his mortal life to pursue an immortal one for the good of the world.

That would be a mouthful.

“He’s always looked out for me when I’m in a bind. Sometimes he’ll just show up. Give me a little pep talk.”

Your wistful expression made him smile.

“Well I hope your brother knows I’m grateful. Our department appreciates all the help you always offer on these types of cases. The FBI is lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, I’m always happy to help. I’m glad you’re okay Wainwright.”

You’ve always been an ally of the CBI. Especially when a certain special agent was the one asking.

“Thanks to you.” He took a seat next to you, bumping your shoulder.

“You need to show me that trick.”

“What trick?”

“The thumb one, it’ll come in handy for future cases when I have to deal with Jane. Chances are we’ll end up getting chained again. I need to be prepared.”

You laugh, because there’s a lot of truth to that.

“I think you’ll need more than that trick to get you out of messes with Jane.”

“You’re probably right. I guess that means you’ll have to teach me everything you know.”

You’re a bit confused by the statement, but his little smirk becomes easy to read. You actually blush.

“Stop flirting with my sister.”

You bat the air behind you.

“Go away Oliver.” You mutter under your breath.

Wainwright quirks a brow.

“Sorry?”

“N-Nothing. I was just saying that it’ll take more than a few lessons.” You cover. He smiles.

“Then I guess we have our work cut out for us.”

You wear a silly smile that’s definitely very transparent. Wainwright leans over, placing a kiss on your cheek that becomes red the second he pulls away.

“I’ll see you later, Agent.”

You nod, and he stands, buttoning his suit as he walks over to the news anchors that have begun gathering behind the police tape. You admire his gait as he walks away, letting out a content sigh.

“That was hard to watch.” Oliver comments.

“Why are you still here, beat it! We survived and I might get a boyfriend out of this. Life is great, so go and frolic.”

“I don’t frolic.”

“Whatever, just get lost and you better not pop up when I finally bag a date with the guy. I don’t want to have to explain why I’m talking to my invisible celestial brother.”

“If I erase him then you won’t have to worry about it.”

You laugh, because he’s certainly joking. However when you turn his expression is neutral.

“O-Oliver I’m serious if you touch him I’ll kill you this time!”

Even as a higher being he still insisted on making your life hell.

[lostandfoundbook]

Chapter 4

Read it on AO3

Read it on Wattpad

A couple of days had passed since Alex had spoken with Everette. She wanted to get more information about the theatre back home, but right now, Alex was truly focused on preparing for her audition. She stretched her ligaments and fully relaxed all her bones as she prepped for what was to come.

She had finally been taken off all the IVs, for better or for worse, and had been put on some ibuprofen to manage her pain. The musical she was auditioning for was Spring Awakening. She wasn't all that interested in the plotline (It was about some old German play) but anything related to theatre did spark her interest.

She had her cold readings down, and she had her audition song in place. The only part she was vaguely worried about was dancing. She was never the best dancer, and she never had the money to afford professional classes. She obviously wasn't a triple threat.

The thing she was, was talented. She was an incredible actress and she really carried her performances with the way she was able to express emotions. That was perfect for the role of Spring Awakening, and Alex knew she'd ace it.

Her competition didn't look too strong, either. It was a bunch of dance students auditioning for a music heavy role. No shade towards them, but Alex was beyond equipped for this role. She was dawned in her ballet uniform (leotard, a crop top, a skirt, and some leg warmers) and was sitting with her binder full of sheets of music and character notes.

When her name was called, she walked up to the stage and introduced herself. She sang her 10 bars, and when it came time for the cold reading, she nailed it.

"What is your dance going to be?" an older man asked, eye-ing up her outfit. Alex put her hands on her hips. "A self choreographed ballet scene?"

The man shook his head no. "I teach ballet. I see too much ballet. What else do you have?" Alex frowned and paused. "I have something modern, but it doesn't really fit the musical"

The man, who Alex now knew as a teacher, waved his hand in acceptance. Alex went ahead and prepared herself mentally for the dance. It wasn't what she had been rehearsing in her head. On top of this, she hadn't performed this second dance in years.

The choreography came like muscle memory, however. She didn't mess up nearly as much as she thought she would. She was able to move her feet across the stage in a way she felt comfortable with, considering she was in ballet flats.

She was able to display her capabilities in regards to dancing, and what she brought to the table in regards to the musical.

"Alright. We've seen enough. Thank you"

Alex felt her heart drop to her stomach. She didn't even get to make it all the way through her routine before she was cut short. This didn't feel right. "I'm sorry, I could do a different routine if you'd like"

"No, we've seen plenty. Thank you"

Alex nodded and walked off stage, grasping her hands together in anxiety.

When she made it back to her room, all she could do was scream into her pillow. What did she do wrong? She definitely wasn't getting a call-back. "This sucks!" she screamed out, seemingly into the void.

After that, there was a small knock on the door. Avery peeped her head into the room, meekly waving. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I think I flunked my audition, though. It just sucks. Sorry for yelling."

Avery ushered her way towards the end of Alex's bed and sat on the end. She had finally gotten that queen bed Oliver had been talking about. "Listen, sometimes they're just really strict. They have a lot of people to get through"

Alex pursed her lips together. "I don't know....I've never been told that they've seen plenty before"

Avery crossed her arms. "Maybe they wanted to pick you then and there"

Alex scoffed. "Yeah, right. I tried to do my original routine I had planned, and he told me he had seen enough before I even began." She laid her hands in her lap in a drawn out manner.

"We do have a prestigious dance academy linked with our theatre programs. Maybe that's what he meant?"

Alex put a hand on Avery's shoulder. "Listen, you're kind, but I really don't think I'm gonna get the role. It's life, I guess. It just sucks because it means I'll have to wait at least an entire month before I can get back in the game."

Avery nodded. "I'm sorry, Alex"

She nodded in return, a soft smile on her face.

There was another knock on the door, this time with Oliver making his way in.

"Is this just the hub for everyone to hang out in?" Alex joked, poking fun at Oliver. "Well, It's a very nice room. It generally cost 14 thousand"

Alex tossed her head back. "And I'M gonna have to repay that one day?"

"If you get the role, you'll pay it back in no time"

Alex grumbled at the idea. So that's a month, plus rent. Nice. "I'm totally not getting the role."

"Yeah" Avery added in, trying to be supportive.

"That's not what I heard." Oliver said, crossing his arms. He had a smug look on his face.

"Well? Spit it out, rich boy."

Oliver frowned at that comment. "Well now I don't want to"

"Oh come on, you're rich, just tell me what you heard" she smirked as she spoke. The two really were at complete opposite ends of the spectrum from each other. 

Oliver shook his head in annoyance and sighed. "I heard you're a high contender for the lead role. You think too lowly of yourself sometimes. The audition wasn't bad."

"You literally weren't there"

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "No, but I've read the notes. You performed a song from RENT and did a solid cold reading."

"Yeah. And I bombed my dance"

Oliver fixated his eyes on Alex before rolling his eyes. "Again. Too hard on yourself. One of the people there wasn't a fan of the style, but they all said you were objectively a good dancer. You just need a few classes"

Alex groaned. "I know! It's not like I can afford them with the 14 thousand dollar room price! You really set me up for failure."

"I set you up somewhere close to where my rooms at."

Alex tossed a pillow over her face and continued her protest. "And you can't live in a different room for a month?"

Oliver walked over towards the end of Alex's bed and sat next to Avery. "You'll be fine. How'd your meeting with Everette go, anyway? You decompress enough yet?"

"Oh!" Alex responded, shooting straight up in her bed. "That was really interesting, actually. We're dating, I think. I don't know. He used a lot of past tense language but kept acting like it was a current thing. But, I've been gone for a month. I don't know."

Oliver sighed. "About the case?"

"He wouldn't talk. I know he knows something though."

"Oh?" Oliver asked, prompting more information from the blonde girl. It was like she was playing a game with him. She had information that he didn't, for once.

"It's the way he looked at me."

Oliver's eyebrows raised as he took in the information, gaining a look of his own. One of understanding. "That makes sense. Did he say anything in particular?"

She shook her head side to side. "He said I should already know."

"You told him you were injured?" Avery added in, her hand reaching on the edge of the bed as she did so, as if to remind the both of them that she was still there. "Yeah, he knew. He was deliberately trying to avoid saying what happened."

"That's weird." Oliver included. 

"But we were being watched. He probably didn't want to get caught, or something similar to that effect. I understand why he didn't want to talk. What I don't understand is why we were breaking into the hotel."

Oliver released a breath of air he didn't know he was holding, and Avery and Alex exchanged a glance. "Do you think you can trust him?" the ginger girl eventually asked. 

"I don't know, but I don't think I want to worry about that, right now. I have to deal with this call-back situation" Alex said with finality, tossing herself backwards into the bed. "Don't worry" Avery replied, bouncing as Alex shot downwards into her pillows. 

"How can I not? I hate waiting. I'm such an impatient person."

Oliver raised a single eyebrow at Alex. "And how are you going to deal with the hurry-up-and-wait of musical theatre if you're so impatient? I truly don't understand you, sometimes."

"It's completely different when you're already apart of the production. When I'm waiting for call-backs, I'm a big bundle of nerves I have to suppress. If I don't, I might have a breakdown. When I'm waiting for a production, it's like I'm waiting with purpose. I have a reason to waste my time."

Avery gave her a solemn 'Mmm' of agreement before the conversation slowly died down from there.

* * *

Alex actually got the call back. Currently, she was sat back in the theatre, watching everyone else perform. One girl was singing some song from the musical, while two other people were lined up behind her. Alex had already done her piece, and was waiting for the director to make his call. They were on the last few people in the call back, and Alex could feel her anticipation rise.

"Alright. Everyone, we've come to a conclusion."

The few murmurs that existed in the room came to a silent halt as they all awaited the directors next response. "Our leads will be Alexandria and Brandon, our other named roles will be casted as Elijah, Julia, Dex, and Scott, and our ensemble will be posted outside. Thank you for coming."

"Yes!" Alex quietly said, fist pumping to herself. The previous murmuring turned into properly loud-talking crowd, and a couple of crying people could be heard in the crowd. "Okay, okay, everyone settle down and get out. We need the space. Everyone casted, meet me backstage. We start immediately."

Alex paused. "Like, right now?"

"Immediately!" the director responded, louder this time.

Alex grimaced at that, and picked up everything she brought with her, a water bottle, her bag, and a binder. She quickly hauled ass to the backstage area. She wasn't keen on making bad first (Or in this case, second) impressions.

The rest of the cast slowly made their way in as the ensemble members checked for their roles. There were a lot of excited faces, and while Alex was excited-- she was also nervous. She'd never done theatre with anybody this high class before.

This was the closest you could get to going on Broadway without actually being ON Broadway, and Alex was here. The thought made her tingle with joy. Any doubts she had about her life before were quelled. She really did make it.

"Alright. I need everyone to learn this dance. You need to have it down by the end of next week so that we can begin piecing together this musical."

The cast all nodded in agreement, everyone terrified to respond verbally. It was a group of about 28 people, all of them under the age of 30 but older than 19. "You" The director said, pointing towards Brandon. "You know ballet?"

"Yes"

"You'll be carrying her." The director then pointed towards Alex. "Wait-- carrying?" She responded, a hint of worry in her voice.

"I haven't done a lift since I was a child" Brandon added

"Then you'll learn! Show me what you know"

In a week? She wasn't sure if anyone else could learn that fast, but she knew SHE could. Alex was hesitant but she quickly gave space for her to be able to run towards Brandon. She gave him a nod that said 'Lift me' and started sprinting.

When she jumped into his arms, her legs splayed properly. She didn't think she could do it, but her form was perfect. Brandon, however, couldn't keep the hold and stumbled over his own two feet, dropping Alex in the process. She landed right on top of him.

"Terrible. Alright. You" The director pointed towards the other cast mates and started to give them their first lessons as well. In the mean time Alex stood up and brushed the dust off of herself. She took this slight free time to stop and get to know her new acting partner. "Hi, I'm Alex" She stuck her hand out to shake.

"I know! I mean. I'm a fan of your music." Brandon replied, taking her hand and shaking it. "I can't believe we're really here!" he added, smiling.

"Yeah! I never really thought I'd be able to get a role here, but my luck has really turned these past couple of weeks."

"I saw, you were in the news!"

Alex's eyes nearly popped out of her head at that comment. "Wait, the news?! I didn't know that! Uhg. I really am a PR nightmare!"

Brandon let out a small laugh before shaking his head. "It wasn't bad. Most people are just wondering where you are. It makes sense though. They're going to lose their minds when they see you on stage! It was really smart of you to sort of go on hiatus and come back with this"

Alex nodded, running with his narrative. "Right! I thought, I haven't done theatre in awhile. Why not return? It's my own Ariana Grande moment"

Brandon shook his head aggressively, seemingly happy by this idea "It's really good! People would freak out, anyway."

"Yeah... It's gonna be really hard to explain."

"You two!" the director snapped, pointed towards the pair "Read out scene one for me!"

From there, rehearsals went as they normally did. They acted out a few scenes, read through the first act of the musical, and scheduled to return the day after. All in all, it lasted about 2 hours. They had a day off to prepare and learn their scenes. Alex made her way back to her room, binder and in hand.

"Hey, Alex?" A girl called, waving from across the room. "Uhm. Hi!" Alex walked over to where the girl was standing, and repositioned her binder. "Who are you?"

"I'm Julia, I play Ilse. I wanted to know if you had gotten invited to the cast group chat? Everyone was too scared to ask you."

"Oh!" Alex practically facepalmed herself. Of course she intimidated people. She did that before she had celebrity status. She had already taken a couple photos with Brandon, but nobody else approached her. "No, I wasn't invited, thanks."

"Here, you can just add your number and it'll add you" Julia handed Alex her phone before crossing her arms behind her back. "Also. I hate to be that person, but could I get a photo?"

Alex was mid typing her number in when she stopped and smiled "You know, you're the first person to ask me that! Of course" She had kind of been dreaming of this moment. She finished typing in her number and quickly skipped over to the camera app. She handed the phone back to Julia and smiled.

"Here!" she said, positioning for a selfie. The two stood side by side.

"Just... don't post the location. I'm waiting for show day to come back"

Julia nodded, smiled, and quickly ran off with the rest of her friends. Alex kind of had no choice but to explain where she had been the past couple of weeks. It would take a lot of planning to ease her fan base into the idea of her being a trusted member of the Haven Industries. 

There was a lot of turmoil between her fanbase and his, and she knew this. An announcement of her joining one of his productions would cause an all out fan war, one of which she couldn't handle at the moment. 

She made her way back to her room in a hurried pace, looking through all the photos she'd taken throughout the day. She'd always taken tons of photos. She needed photographs to memorialize her events so that she wouldn't forget the times she'd had. 

She'd met so many new people. She was really excited to get to know everyone, and make friends with all the cast members that she'd get the chance to know over the coming weeks. Alex was a very social person, and she was very limited to the people she could meet while at the hotel.

Of course, she could always go out into the foyer and meet new people, but she was so awkward and clunky, and honestly, she was more interested in getting to know people who had the same interests as she did. That's why she was so hyped about the theatre.

Something that always loomed in the background of her thoughts, however, was the lingering need to consume. Consume what? Your guess was just about as good as Alex's. She just felt like she had this massive hole in her life that she needed to fill. 

She couldn't pinpoint where in her body this need came from. There was no single source that told her what she needed to fix, or how to go about such a thing, but she knew she was craving something. 

she felt like up until this point, life had tried to hold her back from whatever she really wanted to pursue. Whether it was her parents or her boyfriends, something was always in her way. Always blocking her from being able to properly grow.

Something had changed, however. Like a veil lifting on her life, raising just enough for her to see the light behind it. 

As she made her way into her room, she shut her bedroom door behind her and quickly stripped off all of her theatre get up. She changed into whatever clothes she had tossed onto her floor and she quickly made her way back to her journal. She pulled it out and looked through some of the entries she had written.

She flipped all the way to the back of the journal and penned a message to herself for when she reached the end of the book, and flipped back to where she was before. She began writing about her day, and generally using it as a diary. 

When all words failed her, the one thing she could be left to was her journal. She found herself sitting there for over an hour just pen to paper, letting her emotions escape her thoughts. Despite the time that had passed, she hadn't filled up that many pages. Four or five of them.

The note she wrote herself in the back of the book? "This year is going to be an amazing year. Make it count."

[trolagygirl2022]

Hello! I'm Luna! and I want to participate in the exchange game. I have followed all the rules and also sent my chart.

Here's your exchange:

Physical description of your fs.

Cards: Ace of swords, 5 of cups, knight of cups, 5 of pentacles, 4 of pentacles and 6 of wands.

Your fs might have dark hair. Such as dark brown or dark blonde etc. their eye can be blue or grey. Skin color can be olive or tan. Their body type can be midium built. They are medium height. They have long hair. Not too long but they can tie it well. They have more cups cup so I'm leaning forward to more softer look. Their clothing style is also trendy. Fulfilled with many different color and style. Might be too stylish. Cute cheeks. They remind me of timothee chalamet alot and also zendaya. Also while shuffling they seem very excited. So they have their youthful look in them. Their style isn't something to talk about but not to be ignored either. They have this charming look. They don't even try. also they have a mole beside their nose. Its their charming point.

Their aura/vibe.

Cards: 2 of pentacles, 10 of pentacles, 8 of cups, 8 of wands and 9 of swords.

They have this restlessness aura within them. Someone who is a bit restless. They are also maintained most of them. They are secretive to other people they don't know but can't be quite frank when they get to know eachother. Their aura screams succesful and wealthy. So many pentacle cards popped out. They have a chill aura surrounding them. But they are quite lonely so to describe it better, they pretend they are happy but they aren't. Deep down they longed for comfort which nobody ever shared or gave them to the slightest. But as I said they are quite youthful they have this innocent vibe. They are quite fast jumping from topics to another. so they are very interesting and lovely. They are like wind in a winter. Sharp and cold inside. It's quite hard to describe it in words.

How others describes them.

Cards: Page of swords, The sun, knight of Wands, knight of cups, 10 of pentacles and the emperor.

someone who's curious, full of fresh ideas and has knowledge over lots of things. again i heard the word youthful. People describes them with this word alot. Childlike with the close ones. Full of energy. People also describes them as passionate and brave. They aren't someone who gets afraid to speak up. Someone who knows what's right and what's not. Many people likes them but some of them gets jealous because they are effortless in many ways. some people also describes them as charming (I've mentioned it before), romantic, creative and inspiration for others. They are ambivert probably. (zoidac sign: leo, gemini, aquarius or Libra getting heavy earth energy) some people gets jealous of their wealth and success. so I do think there's some conflict here and there. People also uses them alot. But I think your fs let them. i think I have mentioned this too? they are very responsible and since I also stated that they let people use them? it's for a fact. They are very witty and knows what they are doing. They are a great leader.

Thank you!! Let me know if miss something!

That's really someone that I'd like! Thank you so much for your time and energy!

Physical Description: Ace of Pentacles rev, The Tower rev, 10 of Wands, 9 of Pentacles, 6 of Pentacles, Queen of Cups, 2 of Wands.

I don't know why a lot of cards popped out lol- So the first thing that came to mind with the reversals was "asymmetry". So they could have some of those with their face, but it doesn't necessarily mean that it's a bad thing. You can still have an asymmetric face and still be attractive. I also see a prominence of bone structure here, I'm seeing it being prominent in their face but also maybe in their stature? Getting a lanky structure and could be on a taller side. I'm seeing a bit of a copper skin tone. Something with their nose too, maybe a bit of a hooked nose? I also see this person being a foreigner. Could be native to west/south asia but I was thinking about the Mediterranean too. Their face really stands out as it's pretty striking.

Their aura/vibe: The Hanged Man, 5 of Pentacles, 7 of Cups, Page of Cups.

The energy is pretty laid back. I see this person coming off as pretty non-chalant and cool. They're someone that you might not want to bother or might not acknowledge at first as they can also come off as quite busy and reserved to many people. You might be a bit distant (or that's how they'll probably come off to you when you see him). However, that's not how they're really are. Your future spouse is really going to surprise you. The energy I'm getting is "guitarist in a band" type of vibe. You might see him carrying an instrument with him, it's something that he greatly enjoys. Pretty creative and they have a bit of a "childlike wonder" to them when you get to know them on a more deeper level.

What others think of them: Page of Pentacles, The Chariot rev, 5 of Swords, 7 of Pentacles.

People's thoughts on them seem to be pretty mixed. I dunno but I keep getting "college/uni student" vibes from here. So I see them possibly being there at the moment (or you'll probbaly meet there). People will see them as pretty resourceful, they don't play when it comes to their finances and they don't like to waste their money on things. I'm envisioning a slow turtle going at their own pace. People will notice that. I have a feeling he might be an exchange student or something like that, I feel like he also speaks another language too. People might think of him as a bit "slow" but that could be further from the truth. This person is pretty smart, they just like keeping to themself.

[lya-dustin]

Cupid kills with arrows

Chapter 13

Cw: refrences to past child abuse

Gif by @damodredmoiraine

“My dear mother,

Do not be shocked when I return, and you see there is more to me in comparison to the me that left.

If the gods are good, you may become a grandmother in the next six or seven moons.

If the gods are great, you may have a grandson to dote on ---”

“The Queen, your highness.” Her handmaiden, an older woman named Anya, said with a slight curtsy to both women in accordance to rank before leaving to bring refreshments.

“Would you like some tea, your grace?” Aemma asks, not knowing how to even begin speaking to her goodmother.

Does she call her by her name? Does she hope to be called mother?

“Call me Alicent, Aemma.” The queen said as she sat on the opposite settee.

She doesn’t wear true black. Just a shade of green so dark it looks like it.

She dresses finely, more so than mother who had fine dresses, but never really cared about fashion as much as her stepmother.

Even now when mourning clothes call for little adornment and lackluster fabrics, her gowns is so fine it would work perfectly at court.

Aemma wears black mixed with blues, purples, gold, red and silver. She is freed from the burden of wearing full mourning for the next three months unlike her husband, and she takes advantage of it.

Today she wears a simple black and red kirtle over her white chemise and matching black and red sleeves. She wears a girdle around her waist featuring silver beads amongst black and red pearls all coming to join the silver dragon at the center.

And yet looks painfully underdressed in comparison to her goodmother who looks like a fairytale queen in dark silk and golden religious motifs.

“What brings you here, Alicent?” Aemma asks warily.

The queen was only nice if she was being watched.

She never hit Aemma or her brothers, but she had a tongue forked like the serpent she looks like with her fine silk.

As a child it was knowing the honey oozing from her mouth was poison, feeling any touch like a blow no matter how inconsequential it was.

Worse, it was knowing the moment Aemma did anything better than her children, she’d be treated as if she’d done something wicked.

Aemma was glad to be away from her for those seven years.

“I wanted to come and ask how you have been feeling, Aemma.” The queen answered as if she had ever given Aemma a reason to trust her.

“I have been well; the ginger tea has been a great relief these days past.” Aemma has also been hit with a sudden restlessness and looking for any excuse to jump her husband’s bones, but that last part is no one’s business.

Speaking of Aemond, he should be in the tiltyard with his kinsman and Criston.

If she gets out of this talk early maybe Aemma could go watch him take off his shirt in this heat.

But she did say she’d try just as he will.

“I was much the same with Aemond and his brothers. I was so sick at the beginning, but eventually it subsided. Well, not with Aemond.”  She admits, relaxing as Aemond does when he grows comfortable in company. “I have never been to reconcile myself with mutton, but the moment I held him in my arms I knew I’d do it all over again for him if I had to.”

Aemma cannot help but let down her guard at the queen’s honesty.

“I would like us to turn a new leaf.”

“Oh?” Aemma does not mean to appear skeptical at this offer of an olive branch and yet does anyways.

“I have come to realize that I have been less than welcoming to you. You did not deserve to be the object of my anger nor suspicion and I do not want to lose the chance to be a proper grandmother to the children you will have with my son.”

A pretty speech.

Should Aemma believe it?

Gods.

“Would you ever apologize for your behavior towards me and my family if I had never married your son?” Aemma has always had so many questions about everything.

A failing of hers, this never-ending curiosity to know the why of everything,

“I, ---” the queen picks at her nails and looks at her hands, the window and then back at Aemma unable to lie. “I would not.”

“Then I cannot accept your apology until you can truly mean it.” Aemma said. It is not what the queen wanted to hear, but it is the only way they can move forward. “I will give you a chance to prove we can exist in peace and harmony and I will treat you with the respect owed to you due to your station in court and our family for my husband’s sake, but until I know that you are no longer the woman who hated me without reason, I cannot forgive you for it.”

“I suppose I deserve that. You have a good head on your shoulders, Aemma, and a good heart, Court will not be kind to you, and I wish you the best of luck.” It is neither spiteful nor venomous, it’s earnest and refreshing.

It was nice to know she was a rational human being.

They may have a chance after all.

She is very much Rhaenyra’s daughter.

Especially in that specific ensemble.

So much black and red Aemond half expected her to wear the cape with the three headed dragons embroidered on the back.

In a sea of dark greens and blacks she sticks out so much more than one would have assumed at a funerary feast.

The feast would have no dancing and no happy music would be played to prevent them getting the wrong idea.

“Would you consider Otto as a possible name for the babe?” Mother’s goodsister, Frances Costayne, asked, thinking Aemma was still the little girl who’d run to her mother whenever anyone said anything mean to her.

Aemee had grown thick skin and now could return fire with ease and a charming smile.

“As close as the late Hand was to House Targaryen, Otto is not a Targaryen name, I am afraid.” Aemma answered with her usual sunny disposition.

Aemma would rather eat her bonnet than name a child Alicent let alone Otto.

“We hope to ask Princess Rhaenys for her blessing to honor her late father by naming our firstborn son after him.” Aemond interjected knowing Aunt Frances won’t dare to try anything else.

Prince Aemon had been revered as the greatest prince who ever lived, perfect in ways even his sire had not been. Aemon also happened to be the male variation of Aemma and one letter short of Aemond.

Something Aemma had explained when they talked about names for their children during the journey here.

 They had yet to come up with a name for a princess, but something tells him they won’t be needing it.

“It is a fine name, Aemon Targaryen, a name fit for a king.” His mother said with a soft smile. While Aemma had not forgiven his mother for all she did to her as a child and even now as his wife, they had agreed to give each other a chance.

So far, things have been looking well.

This means Aemond must make good on his promise and allow Lucerys Velaryon to keep his eye instead of taking it.

Even if Lucerys were to offer it.

[winterlyndow]

dear winterlyn, i just want to say that i am hopelessly and utterly in love with taa/tgd and everything about it! i've left a few comments on ao3 and am truly awed that you've replied so thoughtfully and thoroughly to each one. but as a new reader who has devoured taa and tgd in one fell swoop, i had some general, non chapter-specific comments i didn't know where to place that i thought to leave here.

despite being an arya fan who reads arya-centric fics, i really am not a fan at all of stories that characterize her to a point of indulgence (e.g. queen, ridiculously skilled warrior/fighter, beautiful, all the boys in love with her, etc.). and yet you use many of these same elements while somehow still preserving the essence of her character, and i have become so entirely enchanted by your writing and all its plots and sub-plots regardless.

you truly have a gift for writing the loveliest characters and relationships. of course i love arya, the protagonist and heroine, for obvious reasons. jaime i particularly love as well. but i have never particularly liked original characters in fanfic, and yet you've somehow managed to bewitch me with the handsome man, the bear, and of course sweet little rickon. in fact those three have strangely become my favorite characters, no less. the hot-and-cold hm who i have come to begrudgingly love for all his petty jealously and capricious, chaotic energy; the bear who i simply love unrepentantly and wholeheartedly for being the sweetest and most huggable teddy bear of a trained assassin; and precocious yet shrewd rickon who i adore with all his clever, perfect quips and teeth jewelry and bone-braided hair (no he doesn't speak to the gods lol, the gods speak to HIM).

even the rat i am intrigued by in spite of my dislike, though i can't quite pin down (straight-laced in that his first loyalties seem to be to the order, but that even hm is made ill at ease by his cold af dismissal of any ties to arya is somewhat foreboding, though he's also not completely unfeeling given his seemingly genuine affection for the bear). i even had a fondness for less prominent ocs before their deaths (rip olive, staaviros, will).

out of everyone, i think the bear may be my fave. seriously, if you hurt him i will never ever forgive you.

i am also particularly intrigued by the prophecies and visions you employ. some of them seem clear enough (howland "stealing" jon from arya as a brother and the yet-unclaimed viserion swallowing ghost as metaphors for jon's parentage), but others seem to be something of a chekov's gun looming over the story that i can't help but dread (gendry's supposed eventual betrayal agh!).

and i haven't forgotten all the little mysterious sub-plots: the biro assassination, the fm and iron bank alliance, the origin of the fm deal with varys and illyrio, littlefinger and sansa, etc. i am fascinated every time you give a tiny glimpse into these other worlds, whether it is the conversation between km and the sealord or sansa in the vale.

(but seriously, wtf was going on with the biro assassination? ok i might be crazy but was km the one to put the hit on helllind because he knew mattine would trade her life and face for biro's death due to her believing the sealord's lies, which would then let the sealord marry vorena, which was the foremost deal between km and the sealord??? but then why didn't the sealord just put a hit on biro himself???)

anyway, this is by far the most i've ever written in response to any fic, and the most i've written in a long time that is not work or school-related. there are many more thoughts (and questions!) i have about taa/tgd, but i'll end this excessive ramble by expressing my love for jaqen/arya and my crushing desire that they reunite soon.

cheers! <3

I can't express to you how much this means to me. So much time and effort has gone into writing this that it's so gratifying to know someone out there appreciates what I've done and enjoys it.

As for the Biro/Sealord/KM plot, I think the Sealord wanted a few more degrees of separation between himself and Biro's death so his reputation would remain intact and he wouldn't come under suspicion. Vorena enabled the plot and was behind taking out Hellind, and she had an obstensible motive for Hellind's death (Biro being in love with Hellind) that sounds reasonable even if the real motive was the part her death would play in the ultimate plot.

Thank you so much for this message--it has really brought a smile to my face. I have *just* posted ch 60, and I implore you to remember what i've alluded to here and there--this is the "Empire Strikes Back" of my trilogy, so there may be some unpleasant darkness before we reach the ultimate conclusion in part 3. ;)

WD

[siremasterlawrence]

Seeing Red

/

Being Green

Green Arrow finds himself in Central City on a one man hunt after me sleeking through the shadows of the city. I stand waiting in the darkness as he lands in building in the south of town.

The building high above me is brimming in white moon light washing his body in a glow and I am enamor with him his right hand in a rush. Grappling an arrow lining it up with his bow and launching it.

The arrow dashing across the sky hits dead on to the brick wall behind me in a splendid example of true marksmanship. Truly a feat to be applaud so I did to his dismay walking in to the light.

I reach for the arrow breaking it in half stir him on as he shoots another and hooks his quiver on to the rope sliding down to meet me face to face. “Well…well not the hero I was expecting but glad to see I occupy your mind.” My voice calm in response.

“Oliver Queen welcome to your doom this is the night you will learn true defeat.”

“Take a gander at your surroundings”

“This is some sort of illusion”

“Hardly! Welcome to your nightmare”

“What the fuck is this?”

“Do you remember the island you were trapped on?”

“You are lying, it can’t be and this is impossible “

“Improbable maybe but impossible I doubt it”

“Take a look around enjoy the natural scent and the beauty of nature.”

The door opens up a strange laboratory as I walk in flipping on the switch revealing our hero. The room is high technological wonder unseen to anyone but me.

Oliver Queen is literally strap down on to a chair with chains around him and a helmet shape like a crown adorns his head.

Two leads are attached to his face for the major experiment it is upon him a visual display of his worst nightmare come to life.

A explosion erupts out of nowhere sending him flying in to the air his mind is fired up with electrical current.

“Mr. Queen you can make this easy for your city and this city as well.”

“You better run Oliver four hoards of this isle of thugs are on their way.”

“Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?”

The lights flash on alerting me to someone on my compound, the cc television rolls on with footage of The Flash.

Barry spins underground digging his way under my building he zooms upward spins in front of me.

Barry speeds over the me landing in Oliver’s face, unties Oliver helping him upward and takes him out.

“Gallant entrance but feeble attempt at a escape.”

“You know how the saying goes how birds and all that”

“You dare to fight us both?”

“Oliver rise to your feet”

“Yes Master”

“Look at me “

“This man is trying to prevent me from any success.”

“What are you going to do?”

“No Oliver break free”

“Eliminate him”

“Exactly! Correct this issue”

“Computer code Red Arrow”

“Commencing and correcting”

“Laser light springs on”

“Room glows up in a purple phase “

“Battle arena begins “

“May I beat him Master?”

“Break his bones”

“Olive no …… please”

My mind is roaming with new ideas as I hit another button and I leave the rooms with great intent.

The door slip close with a fiery passion in a hot ember fire overtaking the room fire shot out.

Surrounding the room in fiery pitch Barry is giving in suddenly his mind locks out sent him back in time.

He watches his mothers death over and over again at the hands of the monstrous Reverse Flash.

Barry loses it the electrical power of the speed force burns out pouring with red and yellow hue.

Barry unleashes a large barrage of attacks on to bin sending Oliver flying in to air and. attack him head on.

“Good job! Oliver destroy him”

“Eviscerate him”

“Your friend has been hacked forever by me”

“A mountain full of money and power”

“I am his Master”

“Sir Yes Sir”

“You failed this city”

“Your days have come to end”

“Submit or die”

“Look up to wall next to you a draw opens”

“Inside it is a quiver and red bow”

“Load on to the bow and steady “

“Pull the bow and let it go”

“Dead on center”

“Showcase your talent “

“Mwahahaha”

“Aaaaaahhhhh….Oliver”

Barry’s eyes turn red hot lifting foot on to the oncoming wall and sped from wall to wall.

- Boom -

“Master Lawrence at your service”

“I will obey my king”

The end