#its also half dead so they absolutely match!

[schwarz-san]

Pokemon x DP

A part two somehow.

…if this continue, this thing's gonna need a title.

---

Stepping out of the portal, Danny is Immediately greeted by a lush green forest, clear blue sky and a nice looking city carved on a mountain near by.

And for some reason, Danny could smell meteorites…

Anyway, everything seems nice so far, Sam would definitely like the place.

(Back in the Black Frost Castle, it's what they named to the new Royal Castle keep made out of irridescent black ice peppered with sparkling white specks that sometimes moves so slowly and form swirls in them that makes them look like the galaxy it self has been frozen and compressed then turned in to a castle on top of Dannys Haunt, Sam perked up from the piles of paper works she was signing about some dude from DCM (DC multiverse) named 'Constantine', she narrowed her eyes at no where specifically.

"I feel like someones having fun without me."

Poking out his head out of the literal mountain of paperworks that hes been buried, Tucker shrugged at Sam, "Probably just Danny."

She seethed at that, "Oh, he is soo getting it when gets back here."

Pulling off the document attached to his face about some Eldritch Dorito God with a top hat destroying multiple Universe, and killing someone called Time Baby, Tucker Grumbled, "Yeah, let him see what its like to be buried in paperworks. Just switch the Paperworks with Scorching Sands, lets see how his cold dead ass could take that."

Sam scoffed at that, "Scorching Sands? Yeah right. I'm getting The Knee–Capitator™."

Tucker shuddered at the mention of the cursed invention, his hands unconsiously touching his own knee caps as if reassuring himself that it's there, not gone, wasn't real, just a nightmare. Nope, nope. "Well let's not be hasty—)

He heard a chirp to his left and see a pair of grey birds about the same size of a domesticated chicken, Starly, perched on a tree branch.

Yeah right, Pokemon.

They are literally everywhere, the sky, the trees, the waters, under ground and literally everywhere else.

Which of course, makes sense. This is the a Pokemon universe.

He got to admit, this pokemons are really nice to see in real life and not just from screen and manga.

They give off this vibe full of life that is slightly in contrast with ectoplasm.

'Must be Aura.'

After he got over his initial awe, Danny immeadiately start to work. He turn invisible and fly to the nearest computer connected to the internet and dive in to it.

Danny is so relieved that Technus never thought of doing the same thing when he was still fighting ghost and repelling ghost attacks.

Danny doesn't want to imagine the damage that he could have done.

Just so much black mail material its not even funny.

…to be honest, danny still isn't sure how his embarassing baby photos got leaked online even now.

He suspect Vlad though, that creep.

Or Dani, with Tucker's help to be honest.

That feral gremlin child, he wonder where all that gremlin energy comes from 'cause its definitely wasn't from him.

(She did, in fact, got it from him.)

After getting all the necessary info that he needed, he switched to finding people that have the most dubious pressense and totally suspicious income before promptly taking a considerable amount of money for himself before forging documents and records for one Daniel James Fenton-Nightingale.

(He got to thanks Tucker and Technus for teaching how to forge documents and records.)

So after that, standing in front of the counter buying trainer gears and 10 pokeballs is a newbie trainer named Daniel from the boonies who likes to be called Danny.

…and since he bought 10 pokeballs, he also got a free commemorative premier ball.

Nice.

He stashed away the pokeballs in his newly acquired bag and review all the info he managed to gather up.

First of the many things he learned is that one Satoshi "Ash" Ketchum from Pallet town in Kanto Region do exist.

He's also thirteen years old and have been the reigning world pokemon world champion for three consecutive years with Cynthia and Leon alternating for second place every now and then.

Expected, since Leon is Leon and Cynthia is the Best Girl.

(Every one he knew agreed, even Sam, agreed.)

Second, he's actually in Sinnoh, Veilstone City to be specific.

It actually explained why he could smell meteorites.

Third, it turns out that the 4 moves limit game mechanic doesn't really apply here, which means that pokemon has much more diverse power set in terms of moves than they do in games and anime.

(Danny could tell that its gonna be a very very fun ride, he just knew it.)

Lastly, and probably the thing he was most concern of, the English Pokemon Theme song (by Jason Paige) apparently does not exist in any form in this Universe.

Ember would be appaled and disappointed by the fact.

…getting over the absence of the iconic song, Danny started his adventure in the nearest route (route 215) to get his veey first pokemon.

Apparently, getting a regional starter from the local professor either required a sponsor, placing first in a pokemon school, a paid Trainer plan, or a recommendation from someone important or from the regional professor themself.

Most people got their starter either by gift from someone else, an egg or paying a trainer to catch one.

All of the options being out of dannys normal reach.

So the tall grass it is.

Now, to find a good starter poke—

Something absolutely feral jumped on him.

Welp, lucky him.

He reared his fist back and absolutely throw hand with the feral thing. He grinned full of razor sharp teeth, matching it with its energy.

Ah, sweet old misplace aggression. How nice of you to visit.

---

@seraphinedemort

Whelp, this is my first time tagging someone but since you asked, then why not?

Also, done! Don't know when the next thing will come out if i ever get myself to start on it since im busy, lazy and quick to be distracted.

Anyway, Schwarz out!

Pokemon x DP

This idea just won't leave me alone for some reason.

So yeah, it's been a millenia and Danny has been the ghost king for a very long time.

Probably longer since time flows inconsistently and in a nonlinear fashion in the infinite realms.

He just finished all of Pariah's Neglected paper works and messed up and he's Stressed and Dead Tired™ that he needs to relax.

He completely skim through every media entertainment he could get his ghostly hands in to, managing to finish One Piece, Detective conan, MCU, DC, Spongebob, the entire pokemon franchise (games, manga, anime, movies included), complete slew of movies of different genres, games and many, many more.

He's still stressed though…

So Vacation it is!

He had a hard time deciding where he would go before someone joked about going to another multiverse just for a vacatiin and you know what? Danny like that.

(Tucker wasn't serious obviously, he was just kidding!

"Danny! Wait—! Aaaaaan he's gone."

Sam entered the office with a bunch of ghost behind her carrying ghostly paper works and request from multiple Gods, Death Gods, and Eldritch entities.

She take one glance to the office and to tuckers sheepish expression and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Okay spill, where's Danny?"

"Funny, you see—"

After the explanation, Sam sighed.

"You do the paperworks then."

"What?!"

"You dig your own grave and your own coffin, you sleep on it."

"Excuse you! I'm not Vlad! And FYI! I sleep on my Sarcophagus!"

"Don't care, what ever.")

Danny then remembered pokedex entries:

[Phantump–the Stump pokemon]

[These Pokémon are stumps possessed by the spirits of children who died in the forest. Their cries sound like eerie screams.]

Just like the kind of universe he belongs to!

Ignoring Tucker's voice, he opened up a portal and immediately dive in.

(He could sense the presence of the dreadfull paperworks getting closer, better skedaddle before he got caught)

He grinned and transform himself into human before shifting his age to that of a teenager, this is gonna be fun.

___

If you tell Paul previously that he would end up travelling sinnoh again with a fresh team and a traveling companion like a certain World Champion from Pallet town does all the time, then he would have scoffed or sneer at you before insulting youe intelligence.

"GET DOWN HERE YOU MENACE!!!"

Paul screamed at the tooof his lungs towardshus travelling comoanion. The said menace just grin before—

"WAIT—STOP!!!"

The menace jumped off the fucking cliff.

Paul almost have an heart attack before his companion harmlessly lands on the ground with both of his feet.

There was a big explosion of dust and dirt that Paul had to cover his eyes. The ground gave in and he could see the dark haired teen standing on the crater unharmed.

He gawked, before sighing in resignation.

Of course, he just have to get a super human, just like a certain boy from Pallet, for a travelling companion.

"Come—on Paul! Live a little would ya? Look at me, I'm half dead yet I'm having more fun than you! Give it a try for a yourself!"

Its official, this is karma for being awful and for all the things he did and said before.

[inmyheaddd]

wake up call - rafe cameron x reader

summary: pranking soft/tired!rafe after a party, by spewing absolute nonsense warnings: maybee slightly ooc rafe?? nothing really wc: 481 a/n: not too sure why i wrote this, i never write for obx 🤔🤔 i think its the drew starkey edits getting to me

“rafe,” you patted his shoulder, “raaaafe,” he didn’t respond to you, only groaning as he turned in his sleep.

it was nearing 3 am now, and you had just gotten back from some party. you had been so exhausted just 30 minutes ago in the car as rafe drove you home, but now sleep seemed to be the last thing on your mind. rafe on the other hand, fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow. 

after scrolling on your phone for a little while and seeing a video of a girl pranking her boyfriend, you decided it would be a good idea to do the same to the brunette who was dead asleep next to you.

“it’s super important,” you tapped his shoulder, “rafe. quick, wake up.” you lightly shook his arm as he mumbled incoherently, then turned away from you. 

“rafe, it’s an emergency. the beach broke, i need you to fix it for me.” you added, your voice so full of worry that it made rafe stir around again, this time to face you, with his eyes still closed. “…what?” he muttered as he scrunched his face up in confusion.

“you have to fix it, rafe.” you bit your bottom lip, almost shaking with the laughter you were holding in.

“alright, alright. i’ll do it tomorrow, yeah?” he grumbled as he patted his arm around mindlessly, trying to find you.

“you better, it’s really important.” you thanked god that he couldn’t see the wide smile on your face, contrasting to the dead serious, worried hint your voice took on.

“also, can you buy mars for me?” you almost broke out laughing right then and there at the blabber you were coming up with. “i’ve had my eye on it for a while, y’know? i think it would match that red top i have really well.” 

“sure, whatever you want.” he mumbled languidly as he tried to pulled you closer to him, before his face scrunched up in confusion. 

“baby,” he said, “what the fuck are you talkin’ about?” he blinked his eyes open at you, his eyebrows knitted together. “are you high?”

“nooo, oh my god.” your giggles broke out as you threw your head back, “it was a prank! i’m sorry.” you didn’t sound sorry in the slightest, still laughing uncontrollably at your boyfriends confused, and likely annoyed expression.

he tutted, briefly shaking his head and turning it to the side. you weren’t too sure if you were imagining the tiniest of smiles on his lips or not. “don’t play that stupid shit on me, go back to sleep.” 

your laughter began to fade as he adjusted his position and turned you around, pulling your back flush against his front and wrapping his arms around you. 

“you’re no fun.” you muttered, nonetheless with a smile on your face.

“yeah, i know, baby.” you felt the ghost his lips on your neck, “talking about buying mars and fixing the beach. get some sleep.” 

now, you could practically feel the way his lips turned up on your skin. that was a huge win in your book. 

debating your choices, you wanted to see if you could push his buttons just once more.

“…rafe?”

a sleepy hum.

“if you could though, would you get me mars?”

silence. 

you figured he was asleep, so you took the loss and closed your eyes, but then he finally spoke:

“how much did you fucking drink?”

another a/n: this is a rafe version of the “half asleep” grayson hawthorne fic that i wrote!! (sorry guys im incapable of coming up w something new rn…)

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I'm half delirious from lack of sleep.

And I love you guys.

So please accept these smutty headcanons about what that mouth do as a token of my appreciation.

This is a direct result of an anon ask reminding me about a previous mini-headcanon thing and me being completely unable to get it out of my head.

And maybe also a little because of that little tongue thing that Peter keeps doing like sir if you do not put that back in your mouth this fcking instant—

Going Down

Zoro, Sanji, Shanks, Buggy, Crocodile, Mihawk (OPLA or anime) x AFAB!Reader,

Absolutely shamless NSFW smut

♫♬Me and the Devil— The Fratellis♬♫

Call my name when the line goes dead

I'll be fire, I'll be rain, I'll be joy I'll be dread

Zoro

Goes down on you like he's been lost in a desert and you're the only source of water he's seen in weeks.

A little clumsy, but more than makes up for it in enthusiasm.

Genuinely wants to make you feel good but gets so turned on by your moaning that it's hard to focus.

His hands wrapped so tight around your hips that its almost painful, his breathing just as shallow and uneven as yours.

Letting out a little growl of satisfaction as he brings you over the edge, so hard from building you up that he has to have you right now.

Sanji

Oh so slow and tender, worshiping every last inch of your folds.

Brushing soft little kisses against your thighs and outer lips, caressing your stomach, lacing his fingers with yours.

Massaging your hips and your thighs and slowly as his tongue brushes back and forth across your clit, letting out quiet moans to match yours.

Slowly taking you to the pinnacle of physical pleasure, making sure you enjoy every last segond of the slow build-up.

Expelling a slow sigh when you cum, moving his tongue in rhythm with your throbbing clit, drawing out your pleasure for as long as possible.

Shanks

Complete and utter tease, master of edging.

Pulling back and smirking at you every time you get close, commenting about how adorable you are when you're oh so desperate.

Revelling in how you push your hips up and tug at his hair, how you whine and beg for more.

Ever so lightly flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit when you're right at the edge and chuckling at how you whine and writhe under him.

Laying his cheek against your thigh, gazing up to watch you struggle to breathe as he slowly circles a finger around your entrance.

Giving a low purr and smirking when he finally lets you slip over the edge, rubbing his hand across your breasts, squeezing your ass...

...But not letting up, continuing with the same slow and teasing pace after your orgasm until you're building toward another. And another.

Won't stop unless you outright tell him to, honestly; he's having too much fun making you squirm.

Buggy

Kinky, kinky. No point in having detatchable limbs if you don't know how to use them.

Hands all over you the whole time, smacking your ass, squeezing your tits together, finger-fucking you while he worships you with his mouth.

Might even detatch his dick and let you use it as a toy, if he's feeling generous.

Pulling back every so often to rub your clit and talk dirty, to tell you in detail what he plans on doing to you.

But making damned sure to lower his head back down before you cum so he can feel your clit throbbing in his mouth and your pussy clench around his tongue.

Sir Crocodile

Doesn't waste a single second teasing you, just dives right in, intent on making you scream.

His hook wrapped around your waist, sucking your clit into his mouth, pushing a finger inside to rub against your g-spot.

Pulling back now and then to tell you what a good little slut you are, but never quite long enough to let you catch your breath.

Feeling you squirm in his grip, hearing you moan and cry out his name over and over, is really the ultimate ego trip.

It's doubtful he's going to stop after getting you off once unless he's incredibly wound up. It's far too fun having you at his mercy.

Mihawk

Full, unrelenting focus, turning you into an absolute mess within seconds.

Kowing exactly what you like, exactly what makes your eyes roll back and your soul leave your body.

Keeping his gaze turned up to yours the entire time, keeping a steady and unrelenting pace.

Holding your hips down with one to keep you from grinding against his tongue, controlling every moment of your building pleasure.

Bringing his other hand up to brush across your nipples, to grasp your hair and make sure you can't look away for even a moment.

Making sure you're incapable of forming a single coherent word or phrase or thought, that you're unable to do more than moan incoherently or stammer out his name, that you're barely even able to breathe.

May not stop until you outright pass out from oxygen deprivation, and he's definitely going to tease you about it afterwards if you do.

[slu7formen]

I heard you were sad about the lack of Luke asks, so l've decided to try and help! Bare with me bc this might not be the best considering I'm think on the spot and its late over here so feel free to delete!

So, reader was with Luke when he was running away with Annie and Thalia so they're really close. Then, when her and Luke were like 16 or smth reader left on a quest and its been like 2 years so its assumed that she just failed and died on her quest. This ruined Luke bc he loved her and one night, maybe at the bonfire, he hears reader screaming his name somewhere in the foresty part of camp, just absolutely terrified. He finds her and shes hurt, I'm talkin reallyyy messed up like a massive gash across her eye, (matching scar awww) leavin her like half blind, huge claw marks, teeth marks, and other wounds. He carries her to the infirmary, shes prob passed out at this point from like blood loss. Anyways, she finally wakes up in the infirmary and a bunch of fluff ensues, yk the usual "Don't ever leave me again" "I thought you were dead" the fun stuff and obv they confess to each other! (also, is 🖤 taken?)

whoever made this request, it was so good, you’re evil and brilliant; thank you 🖤

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: wounds, injuries, blood mention, presumed death, luke being heartbroken (sorry), crying

reminder: english's not my first language so l apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

Every morning, Luke woke with the same dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of the gaping hole your absence had left in him. It was a hollow ache, a physical manifestation of the loneliness that had become his unwelcome company. Nine years old when he ran away, the world had been a harsh teacher, but three years later, when he found you, that harshness had softened, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. You, a scared, twelve-year-old with defiance blazing in your eyes and a meager weapon in hand, had become his anchor in the storm.

The streets had been a cruel way of living, but together, you and Luke had forged a bond stronger than steel. You were the same age, yet he was older by a few months, a difference that somehow granted him a silent responsibility for your safety. Thalia and Annabeth, two more lost souls swept up in the world of their demigod destinies, completed their unbalanced family. But it was you and Luke, the two eldest, who shared a silent language of understanding that went beyond words. You fought together, scavenged together, your backs against the world.

The arrival of Grover, a satyr reeking of panic, brought relief and a terrifying truth— you weren't alone. The hunt for demigods was real, and you were all in danger.

Fourteen. A year etched in his memory with the sharp point of a spear. The monsters, the desperate fight, Thalias selfless sacrifice, the agonizing transformation into the pine tree — the events played on a loop in his mind. Camp Half-Blood, once a beacon of hope, now felt like a bittersweet prison. He had you by his side then, a hand to grip in the darkness, a silent understanding in your shared gaze.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to be there, by his side, facing challenges and forging a future together. He replayed the memory of your first quest announcement on a loop. The fear in his gut, a slap in the face of his fierce protectiveness. He wasn't supposed to lose you.

It wasn't fair. It shouldn't have been you, alone, facing whatever monstrous fate had befallen you. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he replayed the day you left. The forced cheer, the worry that gnawed at him, all a blur now. Training became a way to numb the ache, each swing of his sword carrying a silent plea for your sate return. But as days turned into months, the hope that had fueled him began to fade away.

News traveled slow in the demigod world, but eventually, rumors reached Camp Half-Blood. Whispers of a monstrous encounter, a lost trail, a silence that stretched too long. A year after your departure, the whispers solidified into a grim reality - you were missing, presumed dead.

Luke felt the world tilt on its axis. Denial battled with a cold, horrifying truth. You were gone.

A quest, a single solitary mission, had stolen you from him. Stolen your laughter, your warmth, your presence that had become an essential part of his world. It wasn't fair.

The quest for the Golden Apple had been a cruel twist of fate. A desperate attempt to appease his father, to offer a sliver of hope to a camp drowning in sadness, it had backfired spectacularly. Luke returned empty-handed, his body wracked with exhaustion and his spirit battered. But the most visible reminder of his failure was the jagged scar that ran from beneath his eye down to his chin, a pale testament to the dragon's fury.

He'd needed your presence then more than ever. Needed your steady gaze and the quiet strength you possessed. Needed the spark of defiance in your eyes that mirrored his own growing anger towards a world that had seemed so determined to tear them apart. He needed your touch, your hugs, he needed you.

He stood stiffly before your burial shroud, an image carved in his memory forever. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unchecked. He ignored the concerned glances of his friends, focusing only on the phantom warmth of your hand in his, a memory more vivid than anything else.

In that moment, ravaged by grief, a single truth burned bright — he loved you. And he had lost you. The world felt a little emptier, a little colder, without you by his side.

And the first nights after you left were the worst.

At first, they were hopeful visions. He'd see you, alone on a dusty road, tending to a nasty gash on your arm with a makeshift bandage. A surge of worry would course through him, a familiar anxiety honed by years on the streets. But then, a wry smile would tug at his lips as he remembered the countless times he'd taught you how to create a tourniquet, how to patch a wound and survive on the bare minimum. A flicker of confidence, a belief in your resourcefulness, would chase away the initial fear. He just knew you'd find a way back to him.

He'd wake with a jolt, his hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside him. The sheets were cold, the air thick with the silence of your absence. But then, a flicker of hope would ignite— you were alive, you were out there.

Finally, the dreams turned into nightmares. You'd appear, but not the way he remembered you. Pale and gaunt, your eyes hollow and vacant. Sometimes, you'd be chased by monstrous shadows, their grotesque forms dissolving into a chilling whisper of your name. These dreams left him gasping for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

It had been a little over a year since the agonizing ceremony, the image of your burial shroud seared into his memory. But time, a supposed healer, offered no solace. In reality, it had stretched the fact of your absence even wider. Two years. Two years since he'd last seen your smile, heard your voice, felt the warmth of your hand in his.

"Luke!"

Ah, yes. He heard you sometimes. At first, it happened while he was alone; he believed it could be you, trying to contact him in some way, but it never was that way. He never found you. Then he started hearing your voice in crowded places, mistaking your voice for the ones of other campers, and his heart ached every time he realized it wasn't you.

He felt like he was going insane. Hearing you, even after years. He must be going mad. But then, it became clearer.

"Luke!"

The voice, barely audible above the crackling flames, cut through his thoughts like a knife. He froze, his hand tightening around the thin stick that held his burned marshmallow. Was it-? No. It couldn't be. He must be imagining things again.

The grief, the pain, he knew, could play tricks on the mind.

He brushed it off, attempting to rejoin the conversation, forcing a lightness to his voice that felt hollow. But then, it came again. Clearer this time, tinged with a desperate urgency.

"Luke!? Luke!"

The single word, laden with a desperate urgency, pierced through his defenses. He froze, his blood turning to ice. It was your voice. The same voice that filled his dreams and haunted his waking hours. He whipped his head around, searching the darkened forest beyond the fire's reach.

But the trees stood silent, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. Nothing. Yet, the echo of your voice lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the impossible. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum against his ribs.

He glanced around the fire, catching the bewildered expressions of a few campers who had clearly heard the voice too. Their eyes mirrored the confusion and fear that clawed at him. If he said anything, they'd think he'd cracked, that the pain had finally driven him mad.

"Luke!"

But it was you.

Your voice, unmistakable and undeniably real. A wave of disbelief washed over him, followed by a surge of hope so intense it threatened to suffocate him.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the surprised yelps of his friends as he knocked over a tray of steaming hot cocoa cups. Stumbling over his own feet, he charged towards the edge of the forest, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

He skidded to a halt just inside the treeline, his eyes scanning the darkness. "yn!?" he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and desperate hope. The only reply was the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

It was cloaked in darkness, making it impossible to discern any details. But there was a smallness, a fragility to its silhouette that resonated with his memory of you.

Just as doubt began to creep back in, another call pierced the silence. "Luke!" This time, the desperation in your voice was unmistakable.

He didn't hesitate any longer. "yn!" he roared, his voice raw with emotion as he launched himself into a run.

Several campers, roused by the commotion, scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with confusion and trepidation. They watched, mouths agape, as Luke bolted towards the treeline, his long strides eating away at the distance.

"Luke!" Your voice came again, closer this time, tinged with a note of panic.

"yn!" He didn't dare slow down, his heart making its way up to his mouth. He could hear the sound of others following him, their footsteps pounding on the soft earth behind him.

Through the dense foliage, he caught a glimpse of your figure — small, hunched over, moving with a limp. Hope flared bright within him, battling the tide of fear that threatened to drown him.

Then, you stumbled, nearly falling. He redoubled his efforts, pushing himself to the limit. As he broke through the last line of trees, he saw you standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight.

And his breath hitched in his throat.

The sight of you, once vibrant and full of life, was a punch to the gut. Dirt and grime smeared your face, your clothes were ripped and tattered, and a sheen of sweat covered your brow. But it was the wounds that stole his breath away. Deep claw marks raked across your arms, a bloody gash marred your leg, and the most horrifying of all — a massive scar stretched across your eye, a brutal reminder of some unseen battle. The campers behind him gasped in unison, their faces etched with shock and horror.

Chiron, alerted by the commotion, pushed his way through the crowd, his brow furrowed in concern.

But your focus was solely on Luke. With a desperate cry of his name, you lurched towards him, your injured leg buckling beneath you. Without hesitation, Luke launched himself forward, catching you in his arms just before you hit the ground.

"Luke..." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Your eyes, the one that wasn't obscured by the wound, flickered with a spark of relief and a hint of something else - a deep, unspoken emotion that mirrored his own.

Then, your eyelids fluttered closed, and your body went limp in his arms. Panic surged through him as he cradled you closer, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and relief. " yn? No, no, no, no, yn?" he slightly slapped your cheek, no response. He looked back to to the campers that decided to follow him, his voice cracking with desperation. "Get the Apollo cabin, now!"

The days that followed your arrival were shrouded in a suffocating silence. The once vibrant camp seemed to echo with a collective held breath. No one dared to talk to Luke.

His eyes, once playful and sparkly, now held a deep, smoldering anger. He snapped at anyone who dared to approach. Only Chiron, with his patient wisdom, Annabeth, with her loyalty, and the healers of Apollo cabin, sworn to secrecy about your condition, were able to pierce the storm raging within him.

Each day, a relentless routine unfolded. Luke would rise with the first rays of dawn, his body heavy with the weight of his own despair. He'd force down a meager breakfast, the taste turning to ash in his mouth. Then, with a heart that felt like a lead weight in his chest, he'd make the agonizing trek to the Big House, the temporary haven where you resided. He would do it multiple times a day, actually.

Lee, the son of Apollo with a mop of messy blonde hair and eyes that held a touch of empathy, would greet him at the door, a practiced neutrality masking his concern. The answer was always the same. You were alive. The healers had managed to stabilize you. But your recovery was a slow, painful journey. The wounds you bore were a testament to a harrowing pain, and the care they had taken on your body was immense.

As soon as you had fainted in his arms, you had slipped into unconsciousness. No amount of coaxing, no whispered pleas from the healers, or songs in Ancient Greek, could bring you back. Luke was devastated. The relief of having you back, a physical presence after two agonizing years, was a fragile flame quickly extinguished by the reality of your condition. Your life hung by a thread, and he was kept at arm's length.

One particularly bleak afternoon, Luke found himself face-to-face with Chiron. The old centaur, his kind eyes reflecting the turmoil swirling within Luke, gestured for him to sit.

"Luke," Chiron began, his voice soft yet firm, "I understand your pain. Your worry for yn is valid and understandable. But you must also understand, her condition is delicate"

Luke clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with suppressed anger. "Why can't I see her? Annabeth's younger than me and yet, she gets to see her. Why not me?" The words tumbled out, laced with a raw desperation.

Chiron sighed, a weary sound. "Because, Luke," he said, his voice heavy with empathy, "we fear the emotional toll it might take on you if-, if the worst were to happen."

He slumped in his chair, defeated. Grief, anger, and a gnawing helplessness battled within him.

"How long then?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "How long will it be before I can see her again?"

Chiron reached out, placing a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. "We don't know, Luke" he said honestly. "But the healers are doing their best And you need to find your strength. She will need it when she wakes up”

He nodded dumbly, understanding Chiron's concern for him. But that didn't make the gnawing ache in his chest any less agonizing. He missed you. Missed the warmth of your hand in his, the light that sparkled in your eyes, the way your laughter could chase away even the darkest shadows.

A few days later, he walked by the Big House again. Lee greeted him again, just as every other day.

"How is she?" Luke asked.

Lee sighed, a gust of exasperation tinged with sympathy. He looked tired himself, dark circles under his eye and a large cup of coffee in his hand. "Little change. But she's stable. Stronger than she looks. We had some healers fainting because of how much singing they've done to her"

A muscle ticked in Luke's jaw. "Can't I at least see her?" The words came out harsher than he intended, dripping with frustration.

Lee studied him for a long moment, his own blue eyes reflecting the turmoil within Luke. Finally, he spoke. "Look, I get it. You're scared, you're angry. But you have to understand, seeing her like this... we can't let you"

Luke clenched his fists. "I can handle it" he growled, the beast within him straining against its leash.

Lee took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Can you, Luke? Can you handle the possibility that maybe she doesn't get to wake up?"

The question hung in the air, a brutal truth that stripped away Luke's bravado. He stared at Lee, the anger draining away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that surprised even him. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly making it hard to breathe.

"No" he whispered, the single word a confession of his deepest fear.

Lee nodded, a flicker of understanding softening his features. "Then trust us, Luke. Trust the healers. We're doing everything we can."

And then he remember Chiron's words. He knew he was right. He couldn't bear the thought of the last image of you being one of unconsciousness, a pale specter in a sterile infirmary bed.

The days that followed settled into a grim routine. Luke stopped asking the relentless question, 'Did she wake up?' The answer, etched into his weary soul, was a constant ache that no words could soothe. He had stopped arguing, the initial burst of rebellion replaced by a quiet desperation. He started asking more specific questions, focusing on the details of your injuries. Your eye, the massive gash that mirrored his own scar in a way that made his stomach churn, became a particular point of morbid fascination.

He couldn't bear to look at the jagged mark on his face, couldn't imagine how it felt on yours.

Not because he thought you wouldn't be beautiful —he knew you would be. But the thought of you facing the same constant reminder of pain, of vulnerability, filled him with a protective rage that simmered beneath the surtace.

But then, a shift began to occur. He noticed stolen glances exchanged between the Apollo campers, hushed whispers that died down as soon as he entered their vicinity. An unspoken secret they guarded fiercely. He tried to ignore it, burying himself in training, seeking solace in the familiar sting of sweat and exertion. Chiron's words were a constant drumbeat in his head - seeing you too soon, on the precipice of death, was a burden he might not bear.

But later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon casting the camp in an orange glow, Chiron sought him out. Luke braced himself, his heart plummeting into his stomach. His mind spun with a thousand morbid possibilities.

He met Chiron's gaze, a storm brewing in his own eyes. "What is it?" he rasped, voice breaking.

Chiron took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Luke's with a solemn intensity. "Luke," he began, his voice thick with a mix of trepidation and hope, "she's awake."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis again. The air whooshed out of Luke's lungs, leaving him breathless. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind struggling to process the simple, life-altering statement.

Then he ran.

His feet pounded a trantic rhythm against the dusty path, each step fueled by a desperate need to see you. Chiron's protests, if there were any, were lost in the roar of blood rushing in his ears. He wouldn't be denied this. Not now. His legs pumped like pistons, fueled by a desperate hope that threatened to shatter him if it turned out to be false. He burst through the doors of the Big House, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The interior was deserted, the silence amplifying the frantic pounding of his heart.

He flung open the infirmary door, the sight inside momentarily stealing his breath. Two Apollo campers stood by the window, their hushed whispers abruptly cut short by his arrival.

But his eyes were locked on you, the very image of him defying the cruelty of fate.

You sat on the bed, a fragile silhouette bathed in the pale light, your head bent over your bandaged hands. Your hair, once a fiery mane, had grown longer, a testament to the time that had passed for him in a blur of grief. Your skin, usually kissed by the sun, was a pale canvas.

He took everything in — the fresh cuts marring your arms, the claw marks, the way your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. And you had lifted your head, startled by the sudden noise.

Your eyes, usually sparkling with life, were dull with pain, but when they met his, a spark ignited within them.

"Luke!"

The word ripped from your throat, a cry that echoed with relief and a tremor of something deeper. You lunged off the bed, ignoring the wince that contorted your face as your injured leg protested.

"yn, wait!" Lee sprang forward, concern etched on his face. Your stitches, particularly those on your thigh, were still fresh, and any sudden movement could cause them to tear.

But you didn't listen. You threw yourself at Luke, your arms wrapping around him with a desperation that mirrored his own. He caught you, the impact sending a jolt through his body. His arms tightened around you, a desperate need to hold on, to feel you solid against him.

He held you tight, the fierce possessiveness in his grip both a comfort and a warning. Your body, the way you fit so perfectly against his larger frame, sent a jolt through him. He'd grown, you realized, his broad shoulders feeling wider, his embrace stronger. In contrast, you felt impossibly small, the warrior you remembered replaced by a shell of the person you once were. His hot tears quickly started to wet your hair.

The sudden weakness in your leg, the one that had been screaming in protest since you lunged at him, finally overwhelmed you. A sharp cry escaped your lips as your body gave way beneath you. Instinctively, Luke tightened his grip, his arms morphing into a cradle to catch your fall.

The impact with the floor sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through you, but it was a dull ache compared to the overwhelming joy of finally being in his arms again. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Luke wouldn't stop sobbing now, his shoulder shaking as his arms held you into his embrace.

The Apollo campers, sensing the intimacy of the moment, mumbled apologies as they slipped out of the infirmary, leaving you and Luke alone.

He cradled you close, the scent of your hair and the warmth of your body a balm to his battered soul. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for so long. It was real. You were real.

"You're alive" he sobbed, the words a broken mantra against your ear. "You're alive" he repeated. Each repetition wasn't just for you, but for him, a desperate attempt to convince himself that this wasn't a cruel dream, that you weren't an illusion.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. The wounds looked clean now, stitched and bandaged, but the raw pain was etched in the lines around your eyes. The gash across your eye, a crimson scar angry and fresh, pulled at the corner of your eye, making it appear swollen and bruised. Yet, to him, you were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

It started a finger's width above your eyebrow, then, just as abruptly, it dipped down, catching the outer corner of your eye. The scar tissue pulled the delicate skin, making your eye appear slightly narrowed and bloodshot.

But despite the rawness of the wound, despite the vulnerability etched on your face, there was something undeniably fierce about you. It was a look he hadn't seen before, a look born from surviving the unthinkable.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You had always been beautiful, that much was undeniable. But now, even with a scar contrasting against your features, you were breathtaking.

He didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

"You look beautiful" he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand. "It hurts" you whispered, a tear tracing a path down your cheek.

"I know" he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. He sniffed uncontrollably at your sight, so broken and fragile, wrapped around his arm. "But you're alive. You're here" his bottom lip started trembling before he could control it. He inhaled sharply and his voice came out shaky; "I thought you were dead" tears rolling down his cheeks.

You laughed, a weak sound that was more like a sob. "You won't get rid of me that easily"

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. In that moment, the infirmary with its sterile smell and harsh light faded away. All that existed was the feel of you in his arms, the warmth of your body against his, and the knowledge that you were alive.

"Don't ever leave me again" he pleaded, his voice thick with a mix of relief and terror. The thought of losing you again, of facing another agonizing day without you, was almost unbearable.

"I wouldn't dream of it" you whispered.

[morelikeravenbore]

Croissants & Comfort

Or: Sebastian Sallow loves being married.

Husband!Sebastian, Domestic!Sebaura. Mild sexual references and passing mentions of nudity but otherwise sfw. Written for a discord writing event with the prompt comfort food.

Word count: 1.1k

🦋 [my HL masterlist] 🦋

Sebastian Sallow absolutely, resolutely, with every fibre of his being and inch of his damaged soul, hates cats.

While others, perhaps those more trusting than he, might coo over bright eyes and bushy tails, fluffy paws and little pink noses, Sebastian sees only the sharp claws and pointy teeth of a predator. So when one of them shows up on his doorstep meowing for his soul (or for food, who can tell when it comes to cats?), he closes the door in its little demon face and pretends he never saw it.

Likely, it’s only next door's cat coming to investigate the newly-weds who've just moved into the tiny cliffside cottage, but to him, it’s a dark omen: anything that can supposedly raise itself from the dead nine times is not the type of creature he wants anywhere near his home.

After all, he's had enough of necromancy to last him nine lifetimes of his own.

'Was there somebody at the door?' his wife calls out in French.

Wife.

Sebastian grins like an idiot. Oh, how he loves having a wife.

'Non,' he calls back. His French is still terrible, but likely this is due to the fact he can't stop kissing his French tutor (who also happens to be his wife, who he's married to) long enough to learn anything.

Practically skipping through the cottage, he finds said wife in the kitchen wearing nothing but one of his shirts. The sight of her standing there all supple-skinned and soft-haired and half-naked makes him ache in every fathomable way a husband can. Without another poorly-spoken word in French, he scoops her up, marches her off to the bedroom and forgets all about the cat at the front door.

The second time the cat comes to enquire, it’s via the half-open bedroom window on a blissful Sunday full of slow kisses, little to-no-clothing and other such marital delights. Boneless, Sebastian is sprawled gloriously naked across the bed in a patch of late-afternoon sun with a satisfied grin plastered across his face. His wife, also gloriously naked, sleeps soundly beside him, breathing sweetly on his shoulder with her arms and legs thrown haphazardly across his body. He wishes she were awake (desperately so), but after she practically fell asleep on him mid-smooch, he conceded to let her nap a while to regain her strength. Still, he can't help but trace his fingers up and down her spine, through her hair, along the curve of her waist and over the bumps of her ribcage until he's panting with barely suppressed desire—

He can't help himself — being married has ruined him.

The cat interrupts his breathless worship with a curious little chirrup through the window. Sebastian quickly preserves his modesty with a pillow (lest the cat is not actually a cat at all) and glowers at the unwanted intruder.

‘Shoo!’ he hisses, mindful not to wake the sleeping angel by his side.

When the cat refuses to shoo, he shoo's it again with a French accent.

When that fails, he lobs the pillow at it.

The third time the cat appears, it's cradled so tenderly in his wife's arms that he feels a pang of jealousy that she's not holding him to his chest like the most precious thing in the world. They both look up at him with matching sets of big, pleading eyes (hers as blue as the ocean, the cats as black as a soulless void), but Sebastian is unmoved.

‘Absolutely not,’ he says flatly, pointing at the door.

Aurélie pouts and hugs the cat tighter. ‘But she's hungry!’

‘Aurélie, no way. No.’

Sebastian doesn't mind that his wife gets whatever she wants. After all, he is at his happiest when she is — but a cat is out of the question.

After Aurélie begrudgingly puts the cat out, the only touches he gets for the rest of the night are the daggers she glares into his back; this is the first disagreement they've had as a married couple, and it kills him.

Before he crawls into bed that night, he leaves a stupid bowl of scraps out for the stupid cat.

‘I fed the cat,’ he tells his pouting wife, reaching for the soft, warm weight of her under the covers.

She turns to him, all perfectly soft sweetness, and smiles, ‘I knew you would.’

Several hours and many, many kisses later, Sebastian goes to sleep a happier husband than he'd been in waking.

He wakes up considerably less so.

Beyond the bedroom windows, the ocean is loud, smashing itself into salt against the cliffs.

The cat yowling out the back is also loud, smashing itself against the door for food (or for his soul.)

Very reluctantly, Sebastian extracts himself from the tangle of sheets and limbs, struggles into the first pair trousers he's worn in weeks and drags himself from the bedroom with every intention of giving the cat a gentle nudge up the backside with his foot. On the way through the kitchen, he commits a French sacrilege by stuffing a day-old stale pastry into his mouth before wrenching open the back door.

He glares down at the cat; she's only a wee tawny thing, but he's absolutely positive she'd try to kill him in his sleep given half a chance.

He narrows his eyes.

‘What do you want?’ he growls in English: he doesn't have the patience to butcher French at five-thirty in the morning — especially not for a cat.

The fallacious feline eyes the half-eaten pastry in his hand with a hopeful tilt of its head. Sebastian scoffs: of course the French cat wants his pastry. He expected nothing less.

With a long sigh, he sits on the top step of the porch, pastry firmly in hand. Before him, a vast horizon of sparkling turquoise ocean stretches out as far as he can see — a far-cry from the wilds of Scotland he's grown accustomed to. In the Highlands, the landscape rarely changes: for thousands of years, the scrubby heather-covered hills and rocky, sky-reaching outcroppings have stood unmoved by time or weather — consistent in its beauty, dependable in its familiarity. But in the south of France, the ocean changes day by day, hour by hour; the waves that bid him good morning are not the same that lull him to sleep at night, and though Sebastian understands that his home — his real home — dwells in the heart of the sleeping woman just inside, in France he feels… adrift.

Still, at least the food is good; a small comfort in an unfamiliar land.

He offers a scrap of pastry to the cat.

‘This isn't going to become a thing,’ he warns it.

But it does.

It becomes a thing every single morning.

[ennn]

I expect Billy is going to be an antagonist for a while and that's OK

Anti's for either Agatha or Billy are probably going to get more intense as I predict our boy Billy's gonna be antagonistic for a bit. And let's be clear, I'm not hating, or saying either are evil, or in the wrong.

That's way too simple a take for this show. In the words of showrunner Jac Schaeffer:

...we populated the show with similarly flawed individuals who are also selfish and self-serving, who are self-sabotaging, who are constantly standing in their own way. And then they were just in conflict.  Everybody is kind of an anti-hero in the show. That was really fun and felt very truthful there. 

No one here is meant to be a pure "good guy", which is I think kind of Billy's arc -- but more on that later.

And when I mean antagonist I'm talking about the characters roles in the story. An antagonist isn't necessarily a villain. Agatha is the show's protagonist as well as its main antagonist: as much as she claims she wants only power, deep down she wants a coven, a community, a family. But she is as Schaeffer puts it, "in the way of her own thing."

Billy being an antagonist simply means that his goals – or some of them at least – conflict with Agatha's. Rio has been described as a "romantic antagonist" as well because some of her goals are also in conflict.

Long text speculation post and mild promo spoilers under the cut:

Let's first get this out of the way: Why do I think Billy's going to take on an antagonist role? Aside from well, all the things that happened at the end of Episode 5, there's some clues Billy's not all who he's been saying he is:

There's a promotional video with audio lines, and you can hear Billy saying things like "Agatha Harkness can never be anything but a covenless witch" and "I do not trust you".

Billy claiming to be "obsessed" about Agatha and her biggest fan and going on the road for power should know that she is the world's most notorious witch-killer – why is he appalled about her killing and so against it? And if episode 5 is any indication, power is not what he's lacking.

Joe and Schaeffer have mentioned that Billy will be different in the back half of episodes.

A quick clip from a trailer has Agatha (covered in mud) telling Billy "Last one there is a nice person", implying that Billy at this point doesn't want to be nice. I assume, at this point, he wants Agatha to pay for her misdeeds. The yellow tint of the clip also matches with the current Road area they're on.

Now at this point I do not know if Billy was involved in what I believe is a fake trial in episode 5. I'm inclined to think it's the Salem Seven, and we get this truth of Billy as fallout. I believe he definitely didn't want Alice dead.

Now for reasons why I think it'll be okay–even interesting–to have these two in conflict and everyone should put away their pitchfolks:

They are going to come to an understanding

You know how in Hawkeye series Yelena wants to kill Barton because she blames him for Natasha's death? I think we'll get a broadly similar arc or vibe for Agatha and Billy here. And they will design it in a similarly emotionally satisfying manner.

Right now Billy's basically like everyone–including the rest of the coven–who believes that Agatha is truly what her reputation says. And that's not surprising! Agatha is masks and layers and theatrics and she's not opening up unless she absolutely has to.

It may take a few episodes but I expect we'll get that before the series end, with this sobering exchange we have from a trailer:

Why do you let them believe those things about you? Because the truth is too awful.

I don't think Billy will be the Big Bad simply because I expect at the end Agatha's going to have to choose between wanting her coven, her community of witches, and something else—power perhaps, or her son, and go back to her old ways.

And for that to happen Agatha will need to have formed enough bonds with her coven, including Billy, to make it a difficult choice.

Power, darkness, and anti-heroes

Look, Agatha is my babe and she definitely needs a win after all that awful that happened in episode 5, but if you think about it Billy being a lot like his mom is really interesting? More interesting than him just being a cute innocent fanboy.

Because if he is an anti-hero, with some darkness in him, it's an opportunity to explore some of the themes or ideas we touched on in Wandavision with Wanda and her power, and her sense of self.

Heroes don't torture people.

Agatha recognises the darkness in people, delights in it even: as touched on in interviews, it's one of the reasons why she saw herself as Detective Agnes in that spell, as an investigator exploring the darkest aspects of humanity. She's seen the worst in people, and knows how to play the villain.

For Billy to avoid making the same mistakes as his mom, he needs to understand not just his power, but his potential for darkness.

Power corrupts, and when you're born with that reality-warping level of power, it's dangerous. It's so tempting to make people do what you need them to. And it's a slippery slope once you start killing, even if it's for good reasons.

Agatha never wanted to kill her first coven, in that moment she only wanted to live. But she did, with a power she never asked for, that made it so easy to keep taking and taking.

It is kind of tragic given the circumstances that Agatha couldn't have been a mentor to Wanda at the end of Wandavision, given the events of Multiverse of Madness, because she made some valid points and they could have been a coven, given Agatha's deep-deep-buried desire for one.

And looking at all the mentor-kid pairings we've seen in the MCU so far (Parker and Stark, Clint and Bishop, Strange and Chavez, etc.), I don't think we've ever had this kind of dynamic.

Interesting power dynamics

I think Agatha is at her most interesting when she's on the back foot. As we've seen in episode one, she's not one to give up when physically outmatched, quite the opposite. She's a survivor, she's stubborn, and she's a performer.

Billy has been revealed to have the magical equivalent of a gun, and is capable of taking this entire coven hostage.

They're going to have to interact in new ways now. But now it's going to be more of a dance.

It's new danger, new complications, but also new ways to connect, and also the opportunity for a more honest relationship.

Knowledge, history, community

This point isn't specific only to Agatha and Billy but I'm reminded of Billy taking it out not just on Agatha but Lilia and Jen as well.

It's not surprising that Alice and Billy, the two youngest coven members are also the most idealistic and noble. The world has not been kind to witches over the centuries—Lilia's been chased out of villages for her visions, Jen has been attacked—and the older members of the group have done what they can to survive: How much can you blame them for being selfish in a cruel world?

Power isn't your problem, it's knowledge.

In this case I mean not just the knowledge of witchcraft, but lived experience as well.

Younger witches have to learn their community's history, and the older ones have to be challenged in their set ways of thinking, in how they've adapted, because they're not always good.

I wouldn't be surprised if there was an allegory to be made here to the queer community as well. Schaeffer has mentioned there is a large overlap between the history and persecution of witches and that of the LGBTQ community.

--

Good lord this post ran away from me. If you actually read all of that you do deserve a cookie.

[f1crecs]

Fic Rec List - Action AUs (Giveaway Winner Post)

if your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let me know and we will remove it immediately, no questions asked. we have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop us a message🤍

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hi @onboardsorasora thank you SO MUCH for your request, and congratulations again for winning the giveaway ❤️ we are so sorry that this took such a long time to get to you... unfortunately the mod team have been rather busy with all sorts of things: wedding planning and driving lessons and travelling abroad and writing copious amounts of smut. we hope this was worth the wait ❤️

Daniel/Max

nsfw: I struck a match and blew your mind by @33max | Not Rated | 4.1k

Max is a getaway driver and starts to work with Daniel on jobs. I loved the pacing of this fic. There's so much detail and progress within this and the author really did a great job of picking which parts to highlight for the plot progression. I loved Max's commitment to Daniel.

“I am, I promise. I think it’s just a broken rib or two.” Daniel says, and his hand comes up to squeeze Max’s shoulder from the backseat. There is blood on his knuckles. “C’mon Maxy, be a good boy and get us out of here.” So Max does. He gets them out of there, but he feels sick. Not because they almost got caught, but because he knows that if Daniel really had needed to go to the hospital he would not have been able to leave him there. He would have let them both get caught over leaving Daniel alone and hurt on a hospital doorstep.

nsfw: strangers by bloodmoonforme | E | 37.9k

Daniel, a detective, is on a not-quite-dead-end murder case when they bring in Max from out of state to help him solve it. They have history and havent seen each other in four years. I loved the tone in this so much. The author has a very coherent narrative that build just right, its really intriguing. I also love how the reader almost solves the case too. Not only the murder case, but the /what happened to Max and Daniel/ case that gets revealed throughout. Its a truly well written fic with a lot of action and feelings!

He gets up, his stomach feeling heavier and colder by the second. There's something creeping all the way from his fingers, up his arms and to his belly, a prickly sick thing. Then he looks towards the center of the room, marked by a well-worn rug. Daniel stands there, alone in Esther’s bedroom, standing in the half-light. He's there, and suddenly he’s not.

nsfw: Bite Down and Taste Red by @mysticalbreadcollective | E | 46.5k

Max works in a bar, and Daniel is the Mafia Boss who keeps buying drinks. This story is absolutely captivating - from beginning to end, it is so beautifully written and paced, with just enough angst to make things truly delicious. Daniel is so much fun here - hot and charismatic and so very head over heels for his bartender!

He finds out that Max speaks several languages, and he’s from a place called Hasselt, which means absolutely nothing to Daniel. He’d looked it up later, on the map on his phone, squinting at it. Compared with the US, its miniscule. He can’t imagine Max being born in a place so small. When Max is so – much.

Carlos/Lando & Daniel/Max

i'll race you for pinks by @chubbydinosaur | M | 30k

Lando is brought on to a heist by professional criminal, Carlos. Sparks fly. This story is such a fun ride - as always, this author perfectly balances humour, emotion, and high stakes action, and it makes for a thrilling read. Lando is so disarmingly charming in this - I adored him!

Daniel/Lando

til the bone crush by @clementiaes | T | 19k

Pacific Rim is perfect for Formula 1 AUs, and this is one of my favourite examples. Daniel and Lando are paired as Jaeger pilots. Both are coming off of other drift partners with baggage - Daniel from Max after Max’s career ending injury, and Lando from something that could have been a relationship with Carlos, had Lando’s insecurities not buried it before it started. Lando is prickly, closed-off and miserable at the start of this story, convinced he is unlovable. This story is about him gently and gradually being opened up to the realisation that people love him, and that he deserves to be loved.

The point is, no one is getting tired of you any time soon,” Daniel says. “Seriously, who even told you that?” Lando looks down at his hands, picking at a hangnail. “No one. I just — I know I’m not easy to get along with.” Daniel frowns. “You deserve to be happy,” he says, finally. “You know that, right?” Lando looks down at his knees. “Look at me, Lando,” Daniel says, but Lando doesn’t. His shoulders are starting to creep back up near his ears again. Daniel’s moving before he quite knows what he’s doing. He gets one hand on Lando’s shoulder and one on his chin, turning his face so that he’ll look at him. Lando sucks in a sharp breath, eyes wide, but to Daniel’s surprise, he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t know how you got it into your head that you’re like, unlovable, or something, but it’s not true,” Daniel says. “Really. You think you can believe that for me?”

Charles/Sebastian

He Is All, And He Is More by @effervescentdragon | M | 15k

In this AU of The Old Guard, Sebastian and Charles are immortals that meet on the battlefield during the Crusades. They kill one another over and over, until they reach a tentative understanding. Their relationship deepens over the centuries. It can be difficult to write characters as ancient and make them feel ancient, and Akira really does. I love the tentative way they negotiate one another, and the understanding they gradually come to. Battlefield enemies to lovers is quite the relationship arc.

"And if we only met a thousand of years from now, you would still be wearing red.” “Why?” Sebastian shrugs, a grin evident in the dark. “Your red string dictates it. Fate, or something. Destiny. Red suits you. You look good in red.” Charles bites his tongue. “So do you.”

Lewis/Nico/Sebastian

on golden sands by sionisjaune | T | 6.2k

Lewis Hamilton is planning the heist of the century and he wants Sebastian Vettel on his team. The target - Baron Nico Rosbergs car collection. Sounds simple on paper but reality never is. Oceans Eleven heist!au. Who doesnt love a good heist!au? This author writes some of my favourite sebcedes, the characterisations are spot on and the vibes are at turns wholesome and rancid. Perfection in a fic!

Rosberg greets Seb at the gate, behind the windshield of a pale blue Bentley. The paint job sparkles in the golden sunlight, and the hood ornament gleams chrome. The gates roll open at his whim with an ear-splitting, metallic sound. Rosberg beckons animatedly from behind the wheel, and Seb gets the message that he should leave his car and join Rosberg in the Bentley for the ride up to the house. […] Before Seb can slide into the passenger's side of the Bentley, Rosberg has to shoo a pudgy English bulldog into the backseat. It clambers, ungainly, over the console and waddles into the back, collapsing in a happy, wrinkly lump on the leather seats. “Who’s this?” Seb asks, watching long strings of drool ooze from the dog’s flabby mouth onto the pristine interior of Rosberg’s classic Bentley. Seb once saw an R-type Bentley much like this one go for two and a half million at auction. “This is Roscoe,” says Rosberg, long-sufferingly. “The result of an unfortunate affair.”

Charles/Pierre

Hic Svnt Leones by @cerona10 | M | 32.6k

Charles is different to how Pierre remembers him. The world-building in this fic is second to none - it’s absolutely stunning! The world feels so full and alive, and it’s easy to get completely sucked in. The way they build in exposition is so clever and natural feeling, and the action is exhilirating and fun to read. Perfect!

His shadow isn’t his own, not anymore. It shakes and shimmers, fighting against its own shape. His shadow’s head twists and breaks before mending itself into that of a horse, neighing and trashing, a single horn jutting out from its forehead. Its jaw unhinges and it begins breathing heavily, drool escaping its mouth like a waterfall.

Fernando/Lance

nsfw: Venus Flytrap by @pitconfirm | E | 25.7k (wip)

Professional criminal Fernando Alonso is recruited for a job. His mission: seduce Lance Stroll. This fic is RED HOT. From the very first few sentences, Fernando exudes this confidence that is so much fun to read. Contrasted with Lance - pouty, privileged, and surprisingly vulnerable - the dynamics are gorgeous. This author is so fantastic at dialogue and pacing, and this fic flows so beautifully. I can't wait to read more!

Once they reach the games room, it’s easy to spot him among the crowd. For the past few days, Fernando has been memorising every freckle on Lance’s skin. He could recognise him from just the curl of hair on his tender nape, but the most striking thing about Lance is his demeanour—elbows rested on the roulette table while he boredly holds his head in his hands, huffing in disappointment when he loses again. His carelessness stands out starkly against the opulent golden trims and old paintings covering every wall. A boy like Lance doesn’t belong in a place like this, but money talks.

nsfw: green light, red wine (and i don't feel fine) by @vicsy | E | 18.8k (wip)

Fernando is the Mafia boss who owns the club that Lance Stroll - son of his biggest rival - wanders into. This story is SO HOT. The tension between them is palpable, and they bounce off each other so well. You get the feeling that both of them are underestimating each other, and it makes for so much delicious tension. Amazing!

There aren’t many opportunities Fernando deliberately missed in his life. He wouldn’t be on top if he did. Right next to him, clad in a tight white t-shirt, sits an opportunity for a power move, the one Fernando would take all the way.

[pilot-boi]

How is it when Jaunper and the group arrive in Argus? I want to know reactions from Maria, Cordovin, Saffron, Terra, and Adrian please.

Maria takes it all in stride. She’s fresh off being a rando and then getting dumped head first into The Plot, so she just takes one look at Jaune and is like “This isn’t even the strangest thing I’ve seen TODAY.”

Adrian is too young to really get what’s going on. After the initial freak out because “My uncle! This is my uncle but it isn’t!” he mostly just just wants rides on Jaune’s back, which Jaune is more than happy to provide

Cordovin is Cordovin. She thinks he’s an abomination and shows him the same racism and disdain as she shows Blake, but to a MUCH greater degree. I wouldn’t be shocked if she uses it/its when referring to him, which would ABSOLUTELY set off NPR

Terra is holding it together, she’s staying strong for Saphron. She’s more than a little disturbed and freaked out by Jaune, she mourned him just like her wife. Her brother-in-law is supposed to be dead, so dead they didn’t even have a body to bury. And now here he is as some kind of beast

She’s taking it better than Saphron, but she’s still VERY shaken. She mostly deals with it by focusing on the practicalities of the situation, like working with JNPR to make sure there’s a “nest” set up for Jaune to sleep. He can’t really use beds after all. Also helps that she’s at work most of the time where she can focus on the CCT relay

Saphron, of course, is beside herself. She hen JNPR first arrive, she thinks she’s going crazy. There’s a giant rabbit here wearing her brother’s face and speaking with his voice. Her brother who was burned into ash a year and a half ago is standing here but he’s WRONG, he’s not her brother, he’s a BEAST

She recognizes his teammates from when they visited the family homestead after the Fall. They treat this creature like he’s real, so he’s not a hallucination. But they call him Jaune, ask if she’s his sister. And they’re feeding into her madness. Why would they be so cruel as to bring an amalgamation doppelgänger of her brother to HER HOME and flaunt him in front of her?!

The CCT is barely functioning over short distances, but she just can’t do this on her own. She calls the other Arcs and she doesn’t know how much of her message gets through, but she begs them to come to Argus

It’s not Jaune, it can’t actually be Jaune. He’s dead. She mourned him, she’s STILL mourning him. But his face pinches in the same way she knows when she says he isn’t real, and his hands still have the scars from when he burnt them taking pizza out of the oven, and his voice still cracks when he rushes to comfort her when reason abandons her

It can’t be Jaune. But it is. And if it IS him, then she can’t let him go or he’ll dissolve into ash again. So she clings to him, her little brother who is bigger than her and died before her

And for a few hours she allows herself to indulge in the madness that her brother is alive

It takes a day or so, but Saphron eventually comes around to the fact that this is actually Jaune. Terra’s connections with the Atlas military are able to get him in to run tests (DNA, Aura matching, lie detectors, the whole nine yards) and they determine that against all reason this IS Jaune

It’s impossible, but the science says it’s true. And Terra believes the science. And Saphron believes Terra

Her brother is alive

The siblings spend the next few hours holed up in the spare bedroom in the nest JNPR constructed, just holding each other and crying and laughing. And when they emerge, Saphron looks more whole than she’s been since the Fall

[calciumdeficientt]

BUCKY HCS

BUCKY OH MY GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHD. IF BUCKY HAS NO FANS IM DEAD I LOVE THAT WHITE BOY. I cried while writing these. Idk what that says about me but it definitely says something.

BUCKY PASTEUR HCS

Starting off on a very strong foot, I’m gonna explain the ‘Bucky incident’ that I mentioned in my Thad hcs post (go read that btw). So basically the nerds were playing Star Wars on the steps outside the library, with those very sturdy, screen accurate lightsabers that all the cosplayers have, and poor Bucky, bless his little heart, got far too invested in the game, lunged forwards with his lightsaber, slipped on a piece of wet moss on the steps and fell. His lightsaber broke his fall and he sort of half-impaled himself on the tip of it. He didn’t break any skin or anything, but the sturdy PVC plastic broke two of his ribs and ruptured his appendix. Poor kid.

Head builder and painter of the G&G mini figures, in his free time you can usually find him underneath Dragon’s Wing in their little lair, with one of those magnifying headset things on, painting away. He has a keen eye for detail, and it really shows. He takes great care in studying his friends character sheets and making sure the paining is reflective of their personalities, even down to the bases. He’s got great technique, from dry-brushing for shading, to colour theory and palette matching, down to hand sculpting pieces when official G&G merchandise doesn’t suffice. Sometimes he goes upstairs to get guidance from Zack but nine times out of ten its his own handiwork.

Very happy go lucky despite being beaten within an inch of his life every day. That insane amount of bullying is enough to make anyone a nihilist, but I think Bucky always finds a way to put a positive spin on everything and. That is just… so commendable. He’s a stronger man than I I’ll tell you that. He’s such a sweet kid, how could you want to pick on him when Earnest is RIGHT THERE.

Speaking of Earnest, he really really hated the whole concept of the Paparazzi mission, especially publicly showing those indecent images of Mandy. He couldn’t even fathom the idea of showing the small ones off as blackmail. He hates the jocks just as much as the next nerd, and the way Mandy treats Beatrice isn’t exactly tasteful, but he’s emotionally mature enough to know that not only was plastering those posters all over town fucking creepy, it was also a CRIME.

Does super well in Hattrick’s math class but absolutely DESPISES his way of teaching it. Hattrick has a very black and white view of maths. It’s either right or wrong, and the only way to solve problems is it do it is his way, any other solution is blatantly wrong. Bucky thinks it’s such a boring and narrow way to look at a subject that’s just bursting with possibilities. In his free time he researches pure mathematics, he thinks its such a wonderful show of the fact that maths isn’t just about practical application, but the beauty of figuring out the logical consequences of basic mathematic principles when applied to abstract objects. He finds it so wonderfully interesting.

He loves his granny so much dude (I may or may not be sobbing over this right now he’s such a fucking cutie patootie.) he goes over to her house on the weekends and has tea. She doesn’t understand half of what her grandson says but she’s happy to know that he’s growing up into a nice polite young man, and is doing well at school. He’s also kind enough to help her around the house with all the chores she has trouble doing during the week. Taking her trash out, cleaning her kitchen surfaces and vacuuming up. He’s her helpful little chipmunk, even if he’s nowhere near as chubby as he used to be when he was a baby.

[adolin]

Hi ❤️ I was wondering, do you have some recs/advices for light cardio HIIT sessions? I follow a weight lifting program online split on 3 days, i'd like to do some type of cardio on a fourth day but online there is.. TOO MUCH infos, i'm basically a beginner still and i'm getting so confused 😭

hi hi thank you for asking I LOVE these questions ❤️ I totally get what you mean about Too Much Information, fitness internet is chockfull of info but it can and does get overwhelming (and contact story!) especially if you're a beginner.

On cardio: I'm a big cardio fan, and could yap about the benefits all day. However! I feel very strongly that the best kind of cardio is the one that you actually like doing. If you're "just" looking to add "do more cardio" to your schedule, without any specific goals, the type of cardio matters a lot less than whether it's going to be fun for you to do. It can be as simple as doing 15/20 mins on an exercise bike after you're done at the gym, or dancing to kpop videos in your bedroom, or going on a moderate hike on Saturdays. If you want to add some more structured workouts, that's also great — more on that below — but IME, finding a form of cardio that you actually enjoy is a lot more important in the long run than trying to find THE perfect cardio workout.

this is the part where I yap. sorry.

SAMPLE CARDIO ROUTINE FOR LIFTERS from this amazing (very insightful!) r/fitness post by a lifting coach who's very solid

Something like this is IMO ideal if you don't have time or inclination to do much else. If it looks good to you, stop here! No need to read on. If you want more info and resources, go on

What's HIIT anyway?

sorry to be pedantic BUT I think it's important when exploring online fitness resources to know this: "light HIIT" is a misnomer. HIIT has become kind of a buzzword that's overused in fitness circles for marketing / SEO reasons, and I understand why (visibility!) but I wanted to clarify this just so you know what to look for going forward. HIIT = "High-intensity interval training": short bursts of exercise that have your heart literally jumping in your throat, followed by recovery. You're meant to give it your absolute all and flop dead like a fish on the grass when you're done. The upside is that HIIT workouts are very short; the downside is that they're very intense, and it can be kind of mentally daunting to psyche yourself up to do it.

So maybe I don't want to do the mentally daunting workout. What else is there?

NON-HIIT WORKOUTS THAT FUCK

Just because something is branded as "HIIT" when it's not, it doesn't mean it's not a damn good workout in its own right. Here is a youtube playlist from a "follow along workouts" fitness influencer who I LOVED during the pandemic (Caroline Girvan, I've yapped about her before). I used to do one of her cardio-heavy workouts once a week as an integration to an at-home fitness routine. That playlist I linked includes 92 (NINETY TWO) workouts. Some are bodyweight, some use dumbells for resistance; pick and choose.

LIGHT CARDIO

Maybe this is what you were looking for in the first place! LISS = Low-Intensity Steady Cardio. As the name implies, instead of "high-intensity bursts + recovery" style of workout, LISS workout means that you constantly keep moving at a steady rate. The downside is that LISS workouts are much longer, and maybe more dull, and you're better off doing them multiple times a week to see benefits. The upside is that they're less taxing on your body and require less recovery time, and they can be paired up with lifting days. Something like 15 mins on an exercise bike as a cooldown after lifting + one longer session (40+ min) on a day you don't lift would be what I think of as "integrating cardio into a lifting schedule" if you don't want to do anything high intensity. Replace exercise bike with walking up an incline or jogging or swimming or dancing or whatever. You can mix and match. You can take a brisk half hour walk 3 times a week and go on a hike every other weekend. Just find something that you enjoy and can stick to ( <- personally I have an audiobook I save to listen to ONLY when I'm doing chill-ish cardio to entertain me during)

Nevermind those alternatives. I want to do HIIT anyway. What do I do?

resources: introduction to HIIT writeup from r/HIIT (not famliar with the sub but the guide looks pretty solid) + some examples of HIIT workouts that you can do anywhere depending on your preferences (bodyweight training, exercise bike or rowing machine, kettlebell swings etc)

Here's an example of a follow-along HIIT workout from an influencer I think is very solid: ONE, TWO. They're 15 minutes long and pretty much what I mean when I say that HIIT is meant to be short and deadly; you do something like this, you recover, you're done.

BIG disclaimer: Don't start with any moves that are too fancy at first. Because HIIT = high intensity, that mostly translates into "doing some moves very fast to try and get your heart rate up within the interval window" and some people interpret that as trying to get in as many reps as possible. this goes extra hard for "follow along" workouts but also in general. If you're not very familiar with those moves, you can risk injury. Some HIIT routines are very dynamic, and if you don't have the movements nailed down, you're better off focusing on maintaining form rather than doing them really fast.

Other disclaimer: I would still pair up HIIT once a week with some more chill cardio on lifting days. If it's possible. But if you're doing HIIT in an intense way, that's already a lot!

TLDR

Summing up. Example of HIIT workouts. Follow alongs: one, two, three. I'd recommend doing one of these once a week if you like them, on a non-lifting day. If these aren't your speed, then a longer session of moderate cardio on a non-lifting day would be good, depending on what you have access to and enjoy. You can also do moderate cardio on lifting days if you're feeling extra motivated.

long-ass science-y article on benefits of cardio for weightlifters because I just really love this blogger

[anoopsiedaisie]

My Fionna and Cake episode 7&8 tangent

Lets start it off with the score. 20/20 it was fantastic. my stupid theory post will happen eventually, and I will ABSOLUTELY TALK ABOUT PETRIGROF

The star - Cake thinking Fionna was upset cause her fling died was silly, Fionna was clearly upset before about the candy people. The fight with the vampires was funny but intense, I love how Cake and Fionna care a lot about eachother. Also why does Simon know what holy water taste like. Pb and "Star" was so cute, and I was so right when I talked about us getting more Bubbline on tiktok (Tiktok account is not linked anywhere btw) The vampire world is super sad though, cause they had really been eating for so long, that a potential thousands of people died. Marshall and Gary really lit up the episode from the sadness once again, Gary's tangents of his candy kingdom are so cute. AND HIS HAMBO THINGY IN HIS CAR. Marten and baby Finn are so cute, I wanna legit cry cause HES MEANT TO BE A GOOD DAD BUT HES SO STUPID IN THE OG UNIVERSE. Also imma say this now, Prismo gets in trouble for breaking the rules once and ignoring a few beeps, BUT Scarab ignores several beeps and his entire job and doesn't get in trouble, that boss better have a good reason. Second date (potentially) and Marshall already introducing his boyfriend to his mom, damn. Marshall's mom matches og Hunson perfectly somehow, duche parent club. And Marshall's little blush of embarrassment from his mom acting all weird infront of Gary. Billy's corpse is messed up, like reall messed up, and the reminder of how tall he is is also crazy. I was also wondering the entire time if Pb was human in this universe until she bit off half her arm basically. The Star's outfit is so good, but I wonder how she turned into a vampire now, maybe she was bit in front of that worlds Simon's body and thats why she screamed at something. Already long section so I'll end it here with, I LOVED THIS ENTIRE EPISODE, Huntress dying was sad though, and Gary Marshall kiss was adorable. Closing thought of this episode, Bubbline but toxic yuri. Jerry - Simon and Betty better get a happy ending or I will legit be so sad, they love each other so much, and Betty just legit became part of a god over her Fiance once celebrity crush. I love how gorgeous everything is in this show, Orbo is also a funny character. I feel like someone could narrow down where things and places they go in this Lich's wish universe it'd seem fun at first then spiral though. Simon does NOT know how to draw though get this man an art class. The tree house being naked though, all its leaves gone. Lich's wish to kill all life, really just unironically killed ALL life, down to plants. Fun little references to old episodes, and including one that revolved around Ice king, hmm. Also I wonder the age gap between Betty and Simon, I like to see it as they're like a year apart but Simon just skipped grades cause hes a smart cookie. Also Simon had slides ready for people to be loud, HE WAS READY. Nerd girls in love. I am also guessing Bmo has been alone for awhile now, at least since season 5ish times since thats when the Lich would have made this wish. All the references in Ice King's junk from the melted ice kingdom. Ninja guide books, kunai, vhs tapes and the camera, the pink diary, his bed has the wishing amulet that Gunter used to break bottles. I was RIGHT

Fionna see's how unhealthy Ice King was, and changes her mind and wants him to not become this sad sad man again. Simon would genuinely be such a sweet and wonderful parent, he loved taking care of the babies in the baby universe, and he sees Fionna get happy when he tells his story with Betty and keeps doing it to keep her happy. Neddy is also guaranteed dead, already obvious but the candy kingdom doesn't have the juices being produced. Bmo has done a lot in his isolation, a lot of stuff is changed or moved, I feel so bad for bmo. But the lines "Help me zip up my bra" and "Ooo, butt stuff" Wow. The Simon and Betty stuff makes me so happy, they're so cute and I love them, they need to have a happy ending or I will be so sad. The lesbians ever, I love these lesbians, let the lesbians be happy. Simon struggling to say he loves her is so CUTE. Poor Bmo, I feel so bad, but he was probably so sad being alone, sad in someway. Petrigrof moment was so cute and adorable please, I want them so happy, they deserve to be happy. Now for the bombshell, Jerry. The Lich's wish monkey paw aspect is that he gets depressed and has nothing to do now that all life is gone. Billy's body decomposing as the Lich parasites it. SO, imma theory my reason for the portal finally opening to GolBetty, either it was because the Lich was used as the battle and influenced it in a way to allow it to finally work, OR Betty's wish to keep Simon safe truly included the crown being worn. Like the crown really did trigger GolBetty like "BITCH, NO" or the third that makes probably the most sense, The Scarab was literally about to kill Simon and go against what Betty wants, meaning she is going to interfere. I saw someone say that GolBetty likely wont remember Simon and this could cause something. BUT I REALLY HOPE THEY DONT DO THAT, I WANT THEM HAPPY SO BADLY

[willknightauthor]

Wraith: The Best Game That Never Was

It occurred to me that even among RPG nerds Wraith is more obscure, and that makes me sad. Like people know it existed, but even at the time it was an also-ran. Among insiders at White Wolf it was a darling, but it never took off, so they stopped its line half way through. Even in high school I had to buy the books used online.

Wraith is one of the most original and compelling approaches to the afterlife I've seen in any medium, but especially in an RPG. In many games ghosts feature as NPCs, but rarely do you get to play as them, and even more rarely in an interesting way that centers the subjective experience of being dead.

The first thing that grabbed me was the art, all faded gray-scale, scratchy, often grotesque and surreal. The cover is striking: stark gray bound in chains. All far bleaker and genuinely scarier than anything else put out by White Wolf. Turns out the art matched the vibe of the setting very well, because the ultimate conceit of Wraith is that if the living knew what the afterlife is really like, we'd all be even more terrified to die.

Wraiths are a violation of the laws of nature. Biological life is already an improbable struggle against entropy, but the continued existence of consciousness after death? An absolute affront to the universe. Reality wants you gone, but you can't be killed. That contradiction manifests as Oblivion: non-existence as a visible, active force; the Freudian death drive become physics. And it goes all the way down into your very thoughts.

The afterlife is a world of ideals, not materials. Your well-integrated mind shatters into pieces when you die, and your "physical" form is a manifestation of it. Your Jungian shadow-self, once an unconscious and abstract thing, becomes a real, tangible person living inside you. All your vices, your self-loathing, your misanthropy, your death drive, become a voice in your ear: your best friend and worst enemy, helping and tricking you, constantly trying to gain control.

But you can't be killed. You're already dead. Instead of death, you just decay, further and further towards becoming your shadow. Eventually all that's left is a nightmare of who you used to be, existing only to torment others and drag them down together into nothingness. The world is full of these monsters, the things that go bump in the night and terrify both the living and the dead.

But that's literally the tip of the iceberg. The thin layer of shadow reality is nothing compared to the much larger expanse of the Tempest: a cosmic plane of dream and nightmare, right on the edge of Oblivion. The deep underworld is Lovecraftian Mad Max: an infinite shifting desert of eternal night filled with screaming storms, incomprehensible monsters, and forbidden knowledge. Pockmarking it are islands of stability upon which societies are built--dysfunctional city-states desperately attempting to project power into a world constantly trying to swallow them.

However, if no-one can die, then every awful political trend and tyrant remains forever. And they all have a huge head start on you establishing political power. Their society is a veneer of modern industrial capitalism, layered on top of mercantile guilds, layered on top of feudal lords, layered on top of a Roman imperial bureaucracy, all built on the back of one ancient wraith: the ferryman Charon.

But the Emperor has been missing for a long time, and the bureaucracy is so massive and old that it's rotting in on itself. Who knows how many are secretly succumbing to their own shadows? Their attempts to rule the rest of the underworld are always tenuous, like the last days of Roman Britain. It's a world eternally mid-apocalypse.

The problem with a world of thought and feeling is: how do you make things? What do you make them with? Sometimes the ghosts of physical objects make their way through, and they're mined like whale fall. Undoubtedly the Twin Towers were a huge boon to the dead, probably the site of an entire city.

But it's not enough. Wraiths are still people. They want clothing, and furniture, and buildings, and machines, and tools, and money. Where does all that come from? The only thing left that wraiths can touch: other people. Wraith society is built on a form of slavery more exploitative and horrifying than anything that's ever existed among the living. Slaves are valued not for their labor primarily, but for their use as raw materials.

The vulnerable newly dead are captured, dragged back to the capital, and molded in workshops and factories into goods for the upper classes. They claim it wipes out consciousness, and thus the finished product isn't suffering. If anything it's a mercy! To release them from the torment of the afterlife! And prevent them from becoming monsters! But when it's quiet, if you listen closely, some report you can hear it all whispering.

The bleak alienness of this afterlife to any human religion breaks the minds of many when they first realize they're dead. Some go into denial. Some reject their old religion. Some invent new religious explanations. And some try to twist their old beliefs into a shape that conforms.

The underworld is full of cults. Cults promising escape from the underworld. Cults claiming they know where heaven and hell are. (At best just projections of the collective beliefs of the living into the underworld.) Cults who claim they're building heaven and hell themselves. (These sorts of "afterlife lands" sometimes become tourist attractions.) But Oblivion is Oblivion. If you could describe its structure logically you would be contradicting its very essence. There is only decay.

Most people don't go to the shadowlands when they die. Where do they go? No-one knows. What happens when you're swallowed by Oblivion? No-one knows. Is there a God? No-one knows.

Just like when you were alive, you don't know what comes next, or why you're here. It's not real death, it's something in between. But maybe real death is just nothingness. Better not to risk it, then... even if that means clinging to the sands of Hell under the yoke of an eternal slave-aristocracy.

Maybe if you can figure out why you're here, you'll find a way out.

[nyxnightshade7656]

Hooked Pt3

Think this one might be shorter, but I want to TRY and keep up some momentum. I guess if anyone wants updates, let me know? I'll try and tag you.

It was a while before she saw Gambit again, nearly two weeks. When she did some snooping she discovered that he and a few other X-Men had been sent on some kind of mission. Being as she was not part of the team, and really only there because of her dad, she wasn’t told too much else about it. So she decided to try and focus on her preferred projects to take her mind off of things.

Gambit had said he liked chats, and she was absolutely not ashamed to admit that she googled what that even meant; only to discover that he meant cats. Which had her down an entirely different rabbit hole that had her discovering that he had called her Kitten of all things that night he had let her back into the mansion. Thankfully there were no witnesses to her school-girl-esque squeal of embarrassment. If no one was around to hear her make a sound, it didn’t happen. She would take that to the grave. But, with the knowledge came the ability to actually make his ‘little gift’.

She spent her time in her room, crochet hook and yarn in hand. Occasionally she would venture out in the dead of night for snacks and a supply of drinks; but for the most part she stayed in her room like a troll under a bridge. Soon, she had a small army of cats, one dressed in a little trench coat with red-on-black eyes and the ‘fur’ color was the auburn red-brown that matched Gambit’s hair perfectly. That was the one she intended to gift Gambit when he came back.

But she had also made three other cats that all were perfect little yarn-ified versions of his real life cats. She had met them by accident, running around the mansion in an effort to find some peace amongst the chaotic swirl of emotion that was always just a hair’s breadth away from pulling her under, like a riptide in the ocean. The three cats had been wandering around a part of the mansion that she had never been in before, and she had instantly been drawn to them. They felt safe, calm, happy, content and well fed. She had sat down and they had climbed all over her, after sniffing her to be sure she was on the up-and-up. This was how Gambit found her, with all three of his cats, that had been his actual target, curled up in her lap or across her shoulders, and her trying her best to pet all of them with only two hands.

She had learned their names during that incident. And thus, she crocheted little collars for each of the little crocheted cats. Each one with their name painstakingly stitched into the ‘tag’. Oliver for the grey one, Lucifer for the orange one, and Figaro for the white one. She also crocheted a crow, giving it red eyes against its black yarn ‘feathers’. The cats were because Gambit admitted to liking them, the crow was because he reminded her of crows. Mischievous, playful, loyal and deceptively intelligent. It was in the middle of the night that she made her way to Gambit’s room, following the emotions in the air, trying to latch onto the feel of Gambit’s cats’ feelings, and partially out of her half-remembered trek there when Gambit had found her with his cats in the first place.

She found the room with minimal missed turns, she found the room. She checked if it was locked, and was both delighted and concerned when it wasn’t. She hoped it was because he had someone come feed his cats while he was out on missions or something. But either way, she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She made her way inside, and nearly tripped over Oliver who instantly started to twine around her ankles. She glanced down and shook her head. Death by cat, what a way to go.

She hurried to strategically deposit the little cats around the room, crochet Oliver went on top of the dresser, crochet Lucifer went on the table by the door, crochet Figaro went on the center of the bed, and the little crow was placed on the bedside table, perched on the lampshade found there. She then pulled out a bag of cat treats and food, feeding the three live kitties and making sure they had some fresh water. After about ten minutes of pats, she slipped back out of the room and hurried to make her way back to her sanctuary.  

[hellafluff]

@dalishious made a fun fillable chart (blank here) for your DA Faves. Gave my reasoning under the cut bc i love to talk

DAO Companion: Shale of course! If Shale has 1 fan its me and if Shale has 0 fans I'm dead, you know how it goes. Shale is sassy and delightful and I love that they're my nonbinary rep bc I for one LOVE non-human enbies as someone who feels pretty non-human.

DA2 Companion: I'm extremely basic and have been in love with Varric Tetras for years.

DAI Companion: DORIAN!!! His journey through the game and how involved the Quizzy gets feels more personal then any of the other companions and I love the banter the two have together. My Lavellan and him are extremely close.

Excited for Veilguard Companion: Emmrich Volkarin I am Deeply Attracted To You. I have his official art as my phone lockscreen right now. I love necromancers and older men and he's so goddamn cute. Plus, Skeleton friend!!!!!!

Favorite Other Media Character: I've been obsessed with Maevaris Tilani for years and if she isn't in Veilguard I am going to end up on the news. She's a queen and the scene of her and her husband in the fade in the comics makes me so sad.

Favorite NPC: Sandal because I decided to put the Architect in the antagonist slot! I do sincerely love Sandal and I'm excited to see if we get anymore lore on him in DATV. I love the theory that he's a Sha-Brytol.

Favorite PC: Warden-Commander Mirabelle Aeducan, Mira to her friends. I love my get-shit-done exiled princess. She put her brother on the throne but also punched him very hard first chance they were alone. She is still treated as royalty in Orzammar and keeps visiting and making surface trade agreements for them as she searches for a Cure for the Calling. Is she supposed to be doing all that? No but the Wardens sure as shit aren't gonna stop her. She misses Alistair very much but purposefully broke up with him so he could be on the throne. They still keep in contact whenever they can.

Favorite Antagonist: I'm going to kiss The Architect. If we do not see him again in DATV I'm. Well I'm not gonna end up on the news but I will be extremely sad. I want to see the rest of the Ancient Magisters very bad, I think they would make great side DLC content for DATV.

Fave NPC Ship: Wade and Herren are married and I am constantly upset that weren't in Inquisition as like a specialty weapon shop at the very least.

Fave NPC Friends: Blackwall and Sera. The goddamn... Weird Uncle and Weird Niece ass relationship they have. They have some of the best banter in the game. I wasn't a Sera fan for a long time but them together really makes both of their characters shine.

Favorite Romance: I'm extremely basic and want to commit terrorism with and for Anders. Krista Hawke can and will do everything in her power to protect this man.

Favorite Friendship: Dorian again! Seriously, him and my Lavellan are basically in a QPR. He really brings her out of her shell and she matches his energy and wants to help him anyway she can. If she wasn't with Iron Bull by Trespasser she'd probably have gone to Tevinter with him.

Favorite Quest: I like the back half of Paragon of Her Kind a lot, the final confrontation with Branka and Caridin especially. Throw Shale in there for lore and fuck yeah. A lot of it comes down to my Warden being Aeducan and my love of Shale but what can I say, if my Hawke could be a Dwarf she absolutely would have been.

Favorite DLC: I played Jaws of Hakkon as a reluctant mage elf on my last playthrough and fucking sobbed after the Ameridan Meeting. That DLC is absolutely life ruining if you play that kind of Inquisitor, it was all of Adana's deepest fears realized and it shook me how deep in character I got playing it.

Favorite Game: DA2! I love it's jank and story in a story nature and relationship mechanics. I really hope we get a rivalry mechanic in DATV or other games try something like that. I don't want to piss a companion off so much they leave I want them to stay and get bitchy with me in every dialogue! I wanna romance someone who curses my name! Also just has the best story of all the games.

Favorite Other Media: I really enjoyed Absolution! I think some parts of it are under written because of how short it is (Qwydion just being comic relief is the thing that really gets me) but the overall plot and animation is REALLY good! I haven't watched it since it aired tho. I'm hoping it gets another season to cover the Meredith stinger, because I don't know how they'd handle that in DATV.

[lunaraen]

Engi-nearing the Limit

Jesse has, in a word, goofed.

And that doesn’t sound so bad, right, not at first? She’s Jesse, she goofs, it happens.

She has goofed bad.

“Um, Olivia-”

“What the fuck is wrong with your pistons.” The not-a-question, more-of-a-declaration-of-something is directed at the inventor with the misfortune of having been recruited by Jesse for this little venture, and Jesse winces as Andrew’s voice rises to match Olivia’s.

“My pistons are fine, why the fuck are yours so loud?”

Bad idea. The last time Olivia was this mad, Aiden had sabotaged something and had to flee from a wrench flying squarely at where his forehead had been. It’s been ages, honestly, and Jesse would like to sink into the nostalgia, but Olivia’ll probably commit inter-world murder if she gets distracted now.

“Hey, hey, Andy- Olivia- can’t we talk this over?”

“We’re talking!” Having the joint fury of two capable inventors focused on her is scarier than half the monsters Jesse’s fought.

“…at a slightly quieter volume?” Or with nicer words, that works too.

Olivia sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, and Jesse feels bad for dragging her out of Redstonia for this.

“Jesse, you don’t get it. This is obscene.”

For pretty much as long as Jesse’s known Olivia, Olivia almost always prefers snark and subtlety to outright confrontation, but her work is in a league of its own and dear to her heart. Even when she figured they’d never be more than nobodies, Olivia’s always been passionate about redstone work.

“I- okay, you’re right, I don’t get it.” She’d wondered, briefly, if these two wouldn’t get along great, but she’d figured it would be over differences in design, or automation- not this. “It’s a lot quieter now, right? Isn’t that a plus?”

It is, apparently, not!

“I didn’t almost go deaf for nothing, Jesse!” Olivia smacks the lever in front of her, activating the piston she happened to have on hand (always handy for repairs) and making Andrew cover his ears. “This sound is essential to a piston! If I have to wear ear protection for a reasonable sound, so be it!”

Her fellow inventor, shaping-up-to-be-dead-rvial disagrees.

“You’re insane!”

Jesse’s attempts aren’t working, and she can’t rely on Olivia’s other oldest friend, since Axel’s in the spawner chamber throwing himself at mushroomed skeletons and -personified cyclones?- -the wind itself?- a challenge too good for griefers to pass up on, apparently.

Good battle experience, at least.

Lukas speaks up, the hero to Jesse's rescue, except he sounds only passingly interested, far more focused on the devices lined up in front of him, and suddenly this feels a lot more like adding fuel to the fire than rescuing anybody.

“I dunno, Olivia, don’t these crafters balance it out? We could get so many supplies ready; it’s the sort of thing Beacontown’s builders will go nuts over.”

“As soon as I fix how they sound.” The crafters themselves don’t seem to be much of a problem for Olivia, whose eyes had lit up an eternity-also-known-as-fifteen-minutes-ago at their suggestion, but the pistons part of the elaborate assembly line had offended her on a personal level as soon as Andy demoed the system for them.

“Suit yourself." Lukas shrugs, not even looking over. "Bye, Andrew, it was nice meeting you.”

Petra’s contribution is about as helpful, except it’s not meant to be and is also worse, and Jesse gets a sinking feeling as Petra hefts her new toy.

“Hey, you don’t need to reengineer the weapons, right?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Petra proceeds to absolutely wreck the copper side-wall of the lab, dark metal of the mace shining against the duller green. The sound rings out, strikingly unique and as impressive as anything Petra does. Visually, besides being super destructive, the contrasting colors mirror how her weapon looked shattering green, boggy bones, when she’d been fighting alongside Axel before following them to this room.

Lukas is less impressed, glancing over from the line of crafters to give her the look. (Reserved for griefers who fall on him, usually.)

“Really, Petra?”

Riding the adrenaline high of battle, maybe, or just seeing how this is heading down a dangerous path anyway, Petra shrugs, smirk on the verge of a grin as her shoulder rests against the reddish part of the wall.

“He can replace it with the red kind, it’s cooler.”

“It’ll just keep oxidizing.”

Not for Petra to worry about, based on her shrug, and Jesse’s overwhelming fondness for her friends wars with her absolute exasperation at this shitshow.

“Better keep on top of it, then.”

Andrew takes the wrecking of his wall as well as any engineer would, honestly, by focusing on how it relates to his livelihood. His dramatic finger-pointing at Olivia might be earned, because this group is a disaster, but Petra’s the one with her fingers wrapped around the mace handle, eyeing his skull and it’s just generally not helping- and Jesse’s exasperated with him too.

“So that’s your play, huh? Have your warrior smash up my workshop?”

“Not a bad idea.”

All this over how a piston sounds.

Still.

She’s known Olivia for ages, and just because it doesn’t bother Jesse enough doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be an affront to everything Olivia works with and for. Jesse wishes Harper’d had the free time to come with, instead of hunting down project parts elsewhere in the portal network, but then she considers how intense two inventors are and considers herself lucky she didn’t make it three.

Andy scoffs at the threat.

“Please, that won’t work on any of my machines-”

Olivia steps forward and, yup, there’s the wrench, steadily being smacked against her palm as a substitute for where she’d obviously like to aim it.

“Then there’s a certain griefer who can help me re-engineer their insides.”

While Axel might be too lost to chaos and the thrill of destruction for Jesse to recruit him for calming Olivia down, Jesse has absolutely no doubt Olivia could redirect him to griefing the lab, especially not when Petra’s already made the first strike and Andy’s been insulting Olivia right back.

Ah, she loves her friends.

They aren’t helping, unfortunately, and Jesse’d better brainstorm up a way to smooth things over before Andy’s head is as dented as the wall.

She’s not seeing many options.

Lukas has apparently judged this whole thing as a step below wrestling with an ocelot, in term of dangerous stunts he’s not even going to bother considering, Petra looks ready for her new mace to see some more exciting action, Axel’s Axel, and-

Well, Radar and Ivor are pretty good at bringing things to reason, through stuttered platitudes and stern scowls respectively, but they’re both too busy marveling over a vial of something ominous, inky tendrils licking at the inside of the glass and two red eyes staring back out at them.

(She also spies the new bulge in the top of Ivor’s satchel, leather pushed up by at least four new potion bottles, because of course he had to snatch those. It looks like he’s repurposed Radar’s bag for smuggling samples out, too. If this gets ugly, properly, she has a feeling Ivor will be more than happy to jump in and see firsthand what they do in close quarters.)

It shouldn’t have to come to blows, or explosives, or them getting banned from a cool world with weird pistons, but that’s what Jesse gets for not thinking this through.

This- this was a bad idea.

[extasiswings]

Sorry if I'm too curious, but what you thought about Tim during these years? Because I see so many people wanting him back and then when I see LS comments I'm like🤢

Ah, Tim. Tim, Tim, Tim, Tim.

Tim suffers from what I like to call Mediocre White Man Syndrome. This is a condition that is defined by being a white man in Hollywood who has very little talent on his own, but will get extremely far in the industry by surrounding himself with exponentially more talented and creative writers whose success is then projected onto him by association. But you see, the problem with Mediocre White Man Syndrome is that said mediocre white man has to be put into a position where he can no longer fall back on the work of others to be revealed for his true self. Which is where the OG vs. LS comparison helps.

OG vs. LS is the perfect example of how a showrunner can be an absolutely terrible, talentless hack, but if surrounded by good enough people the end result will still be good enough to mask just how bad the problem is. On OG, Tim was working with a team of excellent writers and storytellers who had the ability to prop him up and smooth the edges of his bad ideas and/or steer him in better directions. On LS, he doesn't have the same cover and the difference is...stark.

But since I don't expect you to just accept this at face value, I have receipts. Subtitled: don't ever trust a bitch who can't write his own shit.

On OG, in the 5 seasons during which he was a showrunner, Tim wrote 8 episodes. Of those, all but one were co-written with at least one other writer (3 were in season 1 and were co-written with both Ryan Murphy AND Brad Falchuk). The only episode for which he has solo writing credit is the S2 finale which, as much as I can admit I love it, has some big pacing issues resulting from the fact that the main plot was started in the previous episode, Tim finished it in the first 20 minutes, and then had to fill dead air for the whole second half. [By comparison, the last episode Tim wrote for OG was 5x1, which he co-wrote with Juan Carlos Coto, and honestly imo you can tell who wrote what parts of the episode just by the stylistic differences and it's...not a good look for Tim (I'll give you a hint, the parts of the episode that truly jumped the shark? Tim)].

On LS, which is currently only 3 episodes into its fourth season, Tim has already written 10 episodes, all co-written, primarily season openers and finales.

Also on LS, Tim has primary creative control. Everything is his idea. No one is there to tell him no. When he says that he thinks that people being happy in relationships is "boring"? No one gets to be happy because he invents random drama for no reason. When he says that Carlos is going to be secretly married despite the fact that it does not match anything from S1 at all? Who cares, it's his world and we are subject to his whims. On OG, despite being showrunner, that wasn't the case. For example, things that were Tim's idea on OG: everything with Taylor (because he has some weird reporter fetish), the blackout arc. He also regularly spoke without planning anything at all and it's clear when you compare the things he said were likely to happen vs. what actually ended up on screen that although he may have signed off, the ideas were not his (hello, the majority of S4 and Eddie's trauma recovery arc in S5). Things that were other people's ideas/responsibilities: the will/guardianship situation, the tsunami arc, Buck Begins, etc.

If you want to dig deeper, on OG, 8/10 of the top 10 episodes (out of 87) were written by just 3 writers: Kristen Reidel (4), Juan Carlos Coto (2), Andrew Meyers (2) [the last two were written by writers who are no longer on the show]. Kristen is now the showrunner, and JCC, Andrew, and Lyndsey Beaulieu (who are also EPs) are clearly the core writing team - strong, stable, and consistent. Now, I have critiques of Kristen: primarily her copaganda (which has to do with personal preference) and her pacing (a more objective critique). But I have the same critiques of Tim (and much more), and at least Kristen has proven that she can write a fucking exceptional story on her own (hello? Fight or Flight? Athena Begins? Kids Today? Awful People?). And when you look at the series overall by the numbers? The top 50 OG eps (again, out of 87) are rated 8/10 or higher (and more than half of those are from writers who make up the core team now, including Kristen). For LS, that's only 15/ 45 (and there's no LS ep rated higher than 8.7). And those discrepancies have to do with the quality of the writing and the storytelling (of which Tim has been doing much more on LS than he did on OG, to LS's detriment).

Anyway, that's my spicy take of the night. The things on OG that were actually Tim's idea (like all the Taylor) were some of my least favorite parts of the show and the core things that I love about the show are things that other people were/are responsible for. And to be perfectly blunt, given his storytelling on LS, I am so happy that he no longer has control over OG (or anything to do with Buddie).

Mediocre White Man Syndrome. A Hollywood Staple.