#like i haven't found it it me to do anything else but sketches :(

[captainbasch]

i will never get over UkitakexShunsui so my subconscious brain made these two up the other night. The white haired man was like literally just a bleach captain knock off because he was the captain of some monster hunting troop? and it was like some epic end of the world kind of battle. Skrungly one showed up and White hair was like "Absolutely do not do the thing until we have no other choice." referring to an entity that is sealed away in mr.skrungly's body. It was like reverse Uki/Shun and i was like u v u <333 LOL anyway had to draw them because I can't seem to do anything other than draw heads and very slowly practice anatomy these days.

[mylonelylife135]

My Pathetic Family

Not a funny joke.

TW: Death, Introverted behaviors (Bruh-) Panic attack (Not from you!) Detailed descriptions of gore!

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Alfred was getting increasingly worried for you as each day passed by.

Ever since the incident with Master Dick, you stopped playing with your favorite stuffed plushies all together, did not do any more tea parties he would personally partake in, and avoided sitting on the floor.

Now all you did the majority of the time was watch TV in rooms that were often forgotten about.

It was not like you hadn't done anything else, but Alfred found it difficult to get you to the park due to your... fears about encountering Master Dick.

He did not blame you, and while he did have a duty to treat all those in Wayne Manor with respect he found himself almost getting frustrated with the young boy at times more than he would like to admit.

He knew that it wasn't good for you to be in the manor all the time doing nothing as a toddler your age.

He also knew that forcing you to go outside would not be good for you.

He tried, once. You clung to his legs so tightly and stared up at him with such sadness and fear that he swore he could feel his own heart stop at such an expression.

These last three months since the incident you have not set a foot outside the manor, and it seemed like with each day that passed your fear was slowly increasing.

He was seeing a three year old turning into a recluse at such a young age because of one accident. Was it, though?

It was heartbreaking.

Alfred didn't see a way you would improve without some sort of guidance.

So, he would turn to Bruce.

Of course, he was not of much help.

He found himself saddened at that he was no longer surprised at the lack of effort.

He just wondered, why?

... It didn't matter. Not right now when he could see that (____)'s mental state was worsening. He couldn't have any more arguments with someone he considered his son when his daughter was hurting.

It reminded him of Bruce when he was a child who had just lost her parents, in a way. He didn't fail Bruce. He wouldn't fail (____), either.

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"Master (____), I would like you to come with me to the living room." Alfred requested, his voice soft as he watched you stiffen up.

You were still scared of going outside.

He was going to change that.

He outstretched his hand towards you, kneeling down to your height and giving you a warm smile. "Please."

You hesitantly reached your hand out before putting it in Alfred's.

Alfred stood up, leaning down slightly as his hand was in yours, and he led you out of your room and down the long hallways.

You clutched Alfred's hand instinctively as he led you towards the living room, your eyes looking around warily and occasionally behind you as you were guided farther and farther away from your bedroom.

Alfred gently ushered you into the living room, shutting the door behind him.

"No more hiding in your room, (____). Let's try something new, okay?" He said softly as you glanced around; noticing some key differences in the room.

The table was pushed off to the side as well as the couch, creative a wide space in the middle of the room.

On the floor were sketch papers, markers, crayons, oil pastels, and colored pencils with a large variety of colors.

You glanced up at Alfred with a confused expression, as if asking what was the purpose of this.

"It's to draw, Master (____). You haven't... haven't been as happy active in anything for quite a while now." Alfred approached you, sitting down in front of the paper and art utensils and patting the spot next to him.

"Come. Let's draw together, (____)."

You sat down next to Alfred, sitting criss-cross and peering up at Alfred. "Why drawing?" You asked, watching as Alfred picked up a yellow crayon and slid a paper in front of you and himself.

"Because you have a bright mind, (____). You just haven't shown it yet." He responded, sliding a blue crayon towards you.

"Draw whatever you like. I think you'll enjoy it more than you think you will."

You picked up the blue crayon, looking down at the paper and thinking about what to draw.

What did you like? You used to like your stuffies, not as much anymore, though. You liked tea party's, but you stopped having those since...

You didn't want to keep thinking of him. You didn't want to see his face full of anger in your head again-

He's already haunted you enough in your dreams.

"I... I like dogs." You muttered, dragging the crayon you held in your dominant hand and dragging it slowly across the paper.

You made a line, then another, and another.

Alfred watched as you started drawing, a smile crossing his face as he began to draw alongside you. He preferred to draw a cat.

He would glance occasionally at your drawing, watching you draw with a concentrated expression and tongue sticking out.

After 10 minutes of comfortable silence, you let out an annoyed groan.

"This doesn't lok-look like a dog." You frowned, bringing up the paper for Alfred to see.

It was a dog with a square chest, four small lines that were supposed to be legs, a wavy line that was supposed to be its tail and a round circle with two dots for eyes and and a smile for its mouth. The dog did not have any ears.

Alfred raised an eyebrow, his lips pursing as he tried not to smile at the drawing of a dog that did not, in fact, look like a dog.

"Nonsense, (____). It looks like a dog to me." Alfred responded, biting his lip slightly as he tried not to laugh.

"You-You're lying, you're smiling!" You whined, pointing a finger at Alfred accusingly.

"I-I am not, Master (____)-" a smile crept on Alfred's face, covering his mouth with a hand as he looked away.

"Yes you are!"

Yes he was.

The living room was filled with fits of laughter and childish giggles as you and Alfred spent the afternoon drawing weird looking animals, stick figures of you and Alfred at the park, and big flowers that actually looked like flowers.

It was a start, but it filled with Alfred with hope that maybe you would get better.

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Alfred was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up as he took note that he had all his equipment for today's baked goods.

Measuring cups? Check. 2 large bowls? Check. Spatula? Check. Measuring spoons? Check. Muffin baking pan, baking cups, cooking spray...

While Alfred was making sure he had everything he needed, he couldn't help but notice small movements in the corner of his eye.

He turned around only to see your tiny hands grabbing at the edge of the table, up in your tippy toes in an attempt to climb onto it since the chairs were too big for you to sit on.

He would have to order smaller chairs later...

"Master (____), why are you trying to get on the table?" Alfred asked with a raised brow, his hands reaching down and picking you up by under your arms.

"I wanted to see!" You said, squirming in his grasp and trying to look over his shoulder to see what was so important that he was standing there in silence.

"I am making sure I have everything I need for blueberry muffins." Alfred explained, gesturing to the equipment as well as the ingredients he had on the kitchen counter.

"You're making muffins?" You asked, your big eyes staring up at him.

Alfred knew that look on your face, you wanted to eat the muffins once he was done making them.

He could see the way you kept looking at the equipment and ingredients on the table, a look of interest on your face.

Did you want to bake? Sensing a rare opportunity to teach you something new you seemed interested in, he quickly took it. "How about this, Master (____). If you help me make the blueberry muffins, I'll let you have some. How does that sound?" Alfred offered, setting you down gently on the tall chairs; bringing the ingredients and equipment to the table in favor of the table counter.

You nodded reluctantly, letting out a small huff. He couldn't keep those muffins from you!

"Here, can you spray oil in this baking tray? It's important that the muffins don't stick to top of the pan as they rise." Alfred explains, handing you a can of oil spray.

It seemed like an easier task than trying to get you to measure the flour, he was confident that your little arms wouldn't be able to hold up the bag of flour and you'd make a mess of the table.

Alfred carefully poured One and a half cups of flour into a measuring cup, he could hear you shaking the can vigorously and glanced over to see you spraying the oil into the muffin tray and around the top of it with both hands.

Relieved he made the correct choice, he focused on measuring the sugar next before he heard you shaking the can again and looked over to see you staring up at him with a mischiveous gleam.

Alfred didn't have time to question you before you sprayed him with oil.

Fortunately, he was wearing an apron that mostly took the brunt of the cooking oil. His right hand did have oil on it now, though.

He looked down at you as you let out a childish laugh, clutching the can of oil spray to your chest as you let out fits of laughter.

He wasn't very impressed, but it was hard for him to get mad. He hadn't seen you laugh like that in quite a while.

"That is enough of spraying from you, little one." He said firmly albeit without any real bite, gently taking the can away from your grasp.

He knew you didn't mean any real harm, it was just dumb kid's stuff.

he was glad you started becoming more playful and more willing to leave your bedroom.

He was happy you were improving.

You helped alfred whisk vegetable oil, eggs and milk together as well as lemon zest albeit with his steady hands keeping the bowl from slipping out of your grasp.

He would then add the mixutre to the flour, sugar as well as baking powder and salt, folding it in and then adding in the frozen blueberries.

He folded them in, making sure to not overmix the mixture and putting the mixture into the baking cups you had added into the muffin pan prior while you watched with curious eyes.

He would then put it into the oven and you cheered, clapping your hands together.

Alfred could feel his chest swell with affection, you deserved the world and so much more.

You ended up eating muffins with Alfred that day, they were tasty and you wanted to try baking again sometime.

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You colored in the lines of a coloring book as best as you could with a yellow marker, occasionally glancing up at the TV in the living room as you laid belly first on the fluffy carpet.

You had the remote right next to you.

You had turned on the TV and flipped through the channels before finding one that interested you, ballet.

You had seen ballet dancers on TV before, but you had recently gained an interest in them. The ballet dancers on TV were so beautiful, the women would twirl flawlessly and moved with such grace that shouldn't be possible but it was. It was an you wanted to do what they could do. They were special, and you wanted to be special, too.

You just... Were a bit scared to go to ballet classes right now, with other kids.

You wanted to ask Alfred if you could maybe have a private teacher or something. You didn't know how to interact with other kids and didn't want to get hurt again if you made them angry.

Shaking your head, your thoughts drifted to today.

Today was a special day, too.

It was your birthday. You were turning four years old today! You hadn't seen Alfred all day since you woke up, you hoped he was planning some sort of surprise.

Your attention from your drawing of the ballet dancers that looked more like stick figures than anything as the screen changed to some news channel.

You looked up at the screen, confusion in your eyes.

This hasn't happened before, ever.

What was the occasion? You could see a young news reporter in a white suit, he looked into the camera with terrified hazel eyes.

Or maybe who was behind it.

"Is this thing on? Harley, make sure it's on!" A voice yelled, you swore you could hear a "Yes, Puddin'!" in the background.

A man dressed in a purple suit with green hair and very, very pale skin sauntered up behind the table where the reporter was, clearing his throat "Hello, people of gotham! I know that not many of you yet have heard of me but trust me when I say, you will." The man spoke with confidence in his tone, puffing out his chest slightly.

He held a mallet in his hand, tossing it around in both hands occasionally like child's play and whistling.

He looked like a clown.

There was something wrong with him.

"I am the Joker. You may know for poisoning the water supply here and there, fighting Batman in public every once in a while..." He trailed off, looking off towards the terrified news reporter with a deranged smile.

You just noticed that he was cuffed to his seat, trying to pull his wirsts out of the metal cuffs to no avail.

"While I do enjoy the publicity on the back of news papers for these last few years, it's frankly quite insulting." he sneered, his smile twitching as he turned to meet the reporters gaze.

"Tell me, dear citizen. What do you think of me?" You could see the clown's hands twitch while holding the mallet.

"I-I-" The man couldn't speak, he was sweating heavily and was gasping for air as he tried desperately to pull his wrists through the cuffs to the point his wrists began to bruise and bleed.

"I th-think-" He didn't even get to finish his sentence before the Joker raised the mallet up into the air and smashed his face in with a deafening crack you would never forget.

Blood splattered across the table, the back of the seat that the reporter was in and on the mallet.

A choked gurgle escaped the man, somehow still alive with his head dented in by the mallet before Joker swung again; this time causing his brain to splatter against the back of the wall, his skull shattering under the weight of the impact and crunch as his head was caved in,leaving the bottom of his chin the only thing somewhat intact.

Your wide eyes watched, taking in the blood, the brain matter and how much red and pink there was.

You could only watch as the Joker struggled to pull out the mallet from the man's dented in skull, finally pulling it out with a heave and ripping part of the top of his spinal cord out in the process with a wet squelch and causing tiny skull fragments to fly on the table, the floor and on the cadaver's lap.

You weren't focusing on what the Joker was saying at this point if he said anything at all or laughed hysterically that he killed a man on live television: You were focused on how the crimson liquid dripped down the table, how the pink mush slid down the wall and how dark the colors were.

Your hands tapped on the carpet around you before grabbing the remote and turning off the TV, staring down at your drawing blankly.

You picked up a red and pink marker and started to color in a new drawing.

It was the only color you could think of right now.

You couldn't get it out of your head.

Alfred would burst into the room minutes later, worry and fear on his face as he had rushed into the living room. "(____), you didn't have the TV on, did you?" He asked with thinly veiled concern, quickly scooping you up into his arms. "No Alfy. I wasn't watch-watching TV." You said calmly, burying your face into his neck.

You didn't want to make Alfred unhappy by saying you did, you just...

Couldn't risk getting hurt again.

You could hear Alfred let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Good, I think It is time I showed you something Master (____). I want you to close your eyes, alright?"

"Okay."

Alfred walked out of the living room with you in his arms, not noticing how the drawing hidden under another that was of a stickfigure in a purple suit hitting another stickfigure with what looked like a big hammer and the pink and red scirbbled over the mallet, a poorly drawn table and the man's face.

NEW CHARACTERS!

The Joker

-There's no good in him, What does Bruce see in YOU?

Harley Quinn

-Psychotic bitch, just another accomplice. Just as bad as him.

Relationship status!

Bruce Wayne (your father): -5/100

-You haven't seen him in months.

-You wished he stopped that evil man in time.

-Failure.

Alfred Pennyworth (Your only friend): 95/100

-You only need him. No one else.

-You feel bad about lying to him

Richard Grayson (The one you fear): -30/100

-You've avoided him for months and haven't seen him, but he still haunts your dreams.

Taglist!

@the-dumber-scaramouche @sirenetheblogger @bellethesleepypotato @mev-fizzah-writes @tsxukikami @shycreatorreview @redsakura101 @feral-childs-word @lexi-username-1 @vanessa-boo @schnuggelig-schnecken-schnurrt @sleeping-l0s3rs @simpingpandas @vanilliona @shycreationdreamland @uu-uuu @crazycookies73307 @chericia @jellystar-star @sillysealsies @hopingtocleaemedschool @sukaretto-n @cantfindmelol @sunshinepower17 @ryuushou @kore-of-the-underworld @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @mxvoid26

A/N: Soooooo, that's the bad unavoidable experience. You don't catch any breaks do you? I never did say the experience would be caused by the family. The unavoidable is infact a direct consequence of choosing hobbies that are mostly done indoors. If one more hobby was an outdoor one this would have been avoided since you wouldn't be watching TV at the time. How you feeling about this? The taglist took a bit to write in which is why this is semi later than what I posted. If I didn't tag you I'm sorry, it took like 20-25 minutes to tag everyone. ALSO! ballet is going to be learned in chapter 5. You kinda aren't going to in chapter 4 cause of uhhhhhh well what happened above.

[eufezco]

THREE LIES AT ONCE

FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!STYLIST!READER

this is based on a prompt from character.ai c:

SYNOPSIS -> You're his stylist and you discover bruises.

You liked it when Finnick visited the Capitol and Finnick hated doing it except for the fact that he knew you would be there.

You had already earned a reputation as a stylist in the Capitol when you two met. And it had been four years since Finnick won his games but President Snow had kept him close because nothing was more appealing than a charming boy in his twenties to the people of the Capitol.

You learned from the best. Cinna taught you everything he knew about fashion and then made you forget about it all so you could build your own style. It actually worked quite well because your designs were sold in the Capitol as if people needed them to live.

Your colors and characteristic shapes, your outrageous skirts, your long dresses, and your headdresses were worn by everyone, men and women fought over your designs and they spent all their savings on your clothes. President Snow was more than delighted with you, not only because his granddaughter deeply admired you but because you knew how to be liked, and he loved that about you.

That's why President Snow found the perfect match with Finnick and you and for once in his life, he did something right.

Finnick became your muse. From the moment you were introduced at the Capitol and you saw him walking towards you with those bright green eyes, his perfectly messy blonde hair, his tanned skin thanks to the way the sun in District 4, and his body that looked like it had been sculpted by the gods. You knew you never wanted to design anything else but for him.

―When did you arrive and how is it that you haven't come to see me earlier? ―You threw yourself into his arms, your fingers dug into his blond locks of hair. This was not the typical relationship that stylists used to have with their models but after working with him for a couple of years now, it was inevitable that some affection would grow between the two of you. Especially when, during his stays in the Capitol, you spent most of your time together. You were the only thing that kept him from going crazy.

He would sit and watch you while you sketched out his next outfit. You would share a drink and ask him questions about how his life was back in District 4. Finnick loved to talk about his home and you loved to imagine yourself there, in the places that Finnick described to you so precisely. The sea reaching your feet, the sun shining against your skin, the sound of seagulls flying across the bluest sky you had ever seen... And for some reason that you were still trying to figure out, every time you imagined yourself in one of those scenarios, he was by your side. District 4 seemed like a lovely place.

Finnick's arms wrapped around your waist while his face hid in the crook of your neck. He inhaled your familiar scent when you hugged, too sweet for the Capitol, not like the perfume people there used to keep up with their continuous call for attention.

―Yesterday but I was too tired from the trip.

That was the first lie that Finnick told you that night.

There was an expression of relief on your face with something like a small smile on your lips, grateful to see him again after such a long time and when everything in your life was chaos thanks to the preparation of the next games. Your eyes were closed, enjoying him holding you until you heard him say those words and then they opened in a combination of surprise and confusion.

―Don't think that being tired is an excuse for not coming to see me, Finnick Odair. That should always be the first thing you do as soon as you set foot here. ―You said, still thinking about why would he lie to you.

You moved apart from the hug and Finnick had a big smile on his lips that inevitably made you smile too. ―I'm sorry. ―He apologized.

―You better be. But now I need you to tell me if you like it.

You turned to grab your notebook and showed him the sketch you drew. Finnick took the notebook from your hands so he could take a better look and admire every detail.

―This is beautiful. You're an artist. I doubt there is anyone half as good as you in the whole Panem.

―Oh, there's Cinna. I haven't managed to dethrone him yet.

―Come on, you outdid Cinna a long time ago. He says so himself. The student surpassed the master, there's nothing wrong with that.

You shook your head and said nothing. Finnick rolled his eyes, he knew you didn't like hearing from him or anyone else that you were better than Cinna. Not even when Cinna himself tells you.

―Have you started sewing it yet? Can I see it?

―That's why I needed to see you. I haven't started yet because I need to measure you again. The last time you wore one of my garments it was too tight. I don't want to risk it not fitting you this time. ―You grabbed the measuring tape and pins from the table in your studio, full of fabrics and patterns for the new tributes. Cinna had given you his notebook with some beautiful sketches and had told you that he needed something similar but for the male tribute, a guy named Peeta Mellark from District 12, and you had been working day and night to meet Cinna's expectations. ―The robe is behind the dressing screen.

―Yes ma'am.

Finnick walked over without saying another word. You admired his figure as he walked away. Finnick's back was twice as wide as when you met him, his arms had grown stronger, now you could identify each of the muscles in them and his legs had also doubled in size, unfortunately, Finnick loved to wear long skirts, if it were up to you he would be showing them all the time. The features of his face had also changed, now they were more pronounced. Finnick's dimples were more visible and his jaw was so sharp you'd swear if you slid your finger along it you'd cut yourself.

―This looks great on you. I don't know why I try to design you something new every time. I should let you go around with that.

Finnick shook his head, failing in his attempt not to laugh at your stupid joke. ―You are not only the best designer but also the funniest one, huh?

You rolled your eyes. Finnick knew you didn't like it when he told you that and he did it on purpose to tease you. ―Come on, take it off.

Finnick stood before the mirror as you stood behind him. Once he slipped it off, you gasped and jumped back, horrified.

―Gosh, Finnick, what is this? ―You took a few steps backward at the sight of the bruises that trailed down his back. By their bright red color you would say were rather recent. You didn't know how to react, you were petrified staring at his back.

Finnick smiled, dismissing what you just saw with practiced charm. ―Ah, just a little souvenir. My lovers like to play rough. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.

That was the second lie Finnick told you that night.

Finnick's chest was heavy but he was trying to keep his cool. He had assumed that by the time the two of you saw each other the wounds would have healed, besides the fact that he didn't think he would have to undress in front of you.

―Your lovers? This absolute atrocity was done by one of your lovers?

―They were probably just a little too... enthusiastic. Besides, I don't have a problem with it, I like it. My skin heals fast so I'll be all good in no time.

And that was the third lie. His skin did not heal fast. You had always told him off for coming to dress rehearsals all bruised up from his training sessions and those bruises had lasted for days. These new ones were sure to stay on his skin for at least a month.

―How can some one like this?

Finnick could hear the disdain in your voice. You should be disgusted, horrified and definitely judging him, but don't worry, so was he.

―Honey, if you don't understand it's not my problem.

―No, you're right. I don't understand. I don't think you enjoyed that.

―Oh, you're gonna tell me what I can or cannot enjoy?

―Have you seen your back? Have you seen how bad this looks?

Finnick chuckled. ―I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this. Do you need all the details? Is the life of a stylist so boring?

―Finnick, listen to me. I don't want all the details I want the truth, and now it's the perfect time to start. ―You said. You grabbed him by his shoulders and turned him around to look at you. Finnick groaned as your hands were placed on his shoulders and when he stood face to face with you, he could see how upset you were.

―I don't know what you're talking about. ―He bit the inside of his cheeks, that was just what he had been told, not to tell anyone the truth about what had happened. He saw you roll your eyes and let all the air out of your body through your mouth, annoyed.

―I know that you didn't arrive yesterday. Cinna told me. Do you really think you can go unnoticed? Here? And I know for a fact that those bruises are not from one of your lovers, let alone that they were done to you a couple of days ago.

Finnick swallowed, looking at you with his head held high. He tried to keep the smile on his lips, pretending that everything was okay, that he did enjoy it when those bruises were inflicted on him, but his lower lip betrayed him and began to tremble. You bent down to pick up the robe and carefully threw it over his shoulders so he wouldn't feel so exposed. Finnick's head was bowed. You lifted it using your thumb and index finger on his chin very gently.

―I need you to tell me who did this to you. I can't help you if you don't tell me.

Finnick chuckled amid the sadness and shame he was feeling. ―Help me? You can't help me.

―I'm sure there's something I can do. I could―.

―They were Peacekeepers following Snow's orders.

Your jaw dropped and your heart rate accelerated. It was the first time that Finnick was admitting that to someone. It had been impossible to tell anyone, let alone a citizen of the Capitol like you. Finnick couldn't possibly admit that without compromising his carefully cultivated image. Besides, if he made himself out to be a victim, the Capitol would never allow someone they saw as weak to perform the role of the Golden Boy and all the people he cared about in District 4 would die. At that moment you realized that all the times he showed up at your studio claiming that his injuries were from training were not true and you felt sick to your stomach.

―How did it happen? ―You asked, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat

―I tried to leave the Capitol. Before I could get on the train back to District 4 I was arrested by Peacekeepers and they took me to Snow's mansion. A lot of people came and when I refused to see them... I've been locked up there since then, that's why I couldn't come to see you earlier.

You shook your head, feeling awful. ―Don't worry about it, Finnick. I'm so sorry this is happening to you. ―Your stomach complained and begged your brain to stop imagining everything that Finnick would have been put through since then. The beatings, the strangers paying to sneak into his bed, the Peacekeepers bursting into his room and leaving him bleeding on the floor...

―Snow likes me. There has to be something I can do for you.

―You don't understand. It's not something that I can quit.

―I can spend all day designing and sewing to pay Snow the money he would make with you. I can talk to Cinna to raise the price of our designs. People here are rotten with money, they'll keep buying them anyway.

―It's not that simple. You can't just buy my freedom.

―Has anyone tried before?

Finnick thought about it and shook his head. ―Snow wouldn't allow that to happen. ―You ran your hand over your face in despair, not knowing what else to do to help him and feeling a responsibility to do something about it. You were the citizen of the Capitol, the one who had superior status and the favor of Snow, there must be something you could do.

―What if I buy you?

Finnick's eyes widened in surprise. ―Buy me?

You nodded and realized how bad that sounded. ―But not in like, a slave type of way. Gosh that sounded awful. I would just― Do it so you can live your life in your district. I wouldn't― keep you here, no. You'd just have to come to the Capitol a couple of times, make a few public appearances, and leave again.

―Why would you do that for me?

You bit the inside of your cheeks and nodded. ―You're my friend. I care about you.

You had managed to give him something he had long been missing. Hope. Maybe what you wanted to do would work or maybe not but at that moment Finnick felt that someone cared and that gave him hope that everything would work out.

Finnick took a step forward and placed his hands on your cheeks. He leaned in slightly and connected his lips with yours. Your hands ended up resting against his warm bare chest, closing your eyes and allowing him to kiss you. You knew it was the emotion of the moment, the adrenaline rush of knowing that maybe he could live his life in peace. You had given him hope and he was happy that someone had shed some light on his situation.

When you parted ways after the kiss, you both were smiling.

―Go and put your pants on, I'll treat your bruises.

―Do you know how?

―Well, not really, but I'm not short of needle and thread and I still have some alcohol from last night.

Finnick pressed his lips together and nodded. That would work. He walked to the dressing screen and you watched him as he walked away in the mirror's reflection. Before hiding behind the dressing screen, he said something that lit up a flame in your heart and made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

―I wish you would come with me to District 4.

my requests for the hunger games are open 📥

[chdarling]

Frequently Asked Questions

Hi! I'm mostly on a fandom break right now and consequently am really slow responding to messages, so I figured I'd post answers to some of the questions I receive the most. :)

Snippets and Spoilers can be found here!

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When will TLE3 be released?

I don't have an exact date, but it probably won't be in 2025. I am giving myself the space and time to write TLE3 at my own pace and pleasure, and I plan to have a full draft finished before I start publishing on AO3. I promise when it's ready, you'll be the first to know.

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Can I print TLE?

Please do not print TLE using any commercial printing service, as this is not legal (at least in the US, which is where I am). If you are printing and binding it yourself solely for personal use and in a manner that is 100% in compliance with copyright law – aka no one at any point in the process can make any money off of it – then I personally am fine with it (and very honored!). However, I cannot give approval for anything that infringes copyright law in any way. Thank you for understanding! I don't want to be sued!

***

Can I translate/create a podfic/create fanart for TLE?

I would be so unbelievably honored! I give a blanket approval for translations, podfics, and fanart, and I'm so, so touched that you would take the time to do this. I just ask that you ONLY post to AO3* and to please mark it as a related work so it's linked to the original. I may be slow to approve the AO3 email linking the fics, but I promise I will! Thank you!!

*except fanart, obviously. Do whatever you want with that. Although if you post it on tumblr, I would LOVE to see it. <3

***

Are you on any other social media sites?

No. I am ONLY on Tumblr, AO3, and the TLE discord. I don’t even use social media in my personal life, so don't try to find me! I'm not there!

***

Do you have fanfic recommendations?

I’m sorry, but I am not a good resource for this. I haven't actually read much fanfic as I spend most of my limited free time writing it. However, I always recommend checking out @jilyawards for a fantastic collection of the incredible talent in this fandom over the years.

***

Do you take requests for one shots/other fics?

No, sorry. I have my hands more than full with TLE.

***

Do you take suggestions for the plot of TLE?

No, sorry. I have the story pretty tightly plotted from beginning until the (very) end, and while I occasionally swerve down new creative alleys, I’m very committed to sticking to my original plan.

***

Is [super specific spoilery thing] going to happen in TLE?

You are of course welcome to ask, but I am almost certainly going to shout “SPOILERS!” and run away cackling.

***

You say this is a canon fic but [super specific thing that I don’t agree with] is included. What gives?

For the purposes of TLE, ‘canon’ means the original seven books. Everything else is dressing. I do include as canon a lot of the lore JKR provided in interviews while the books were being published (for example, James being a Chaser), however I tend to view all post-book authorial additions as mostly optional. I do use a fair amount of Pottermore in my story, but I do not keep up with new HP material, so it’s impossible to stay up to date with everything. For example, I tweaked the Animagus process somewhat to my liking as opposed to what is described in Pottermore. This is partly because I already had my version sketched out before that was published, and mostly because I did not like what was given on Pottermore.

I do not consider any of the films canon. If this alleged HBO show happens, I will not consider that canon. Video game? Not canon. I also simply do not know what the words ‘Cursed Child’ mean, as I am pretty sure this is from an alternate timeline in which I do not exist. Tra la la. :)

All of this to say: The seven books are the framework. However, I feel pretty strongly that within that framework there is room for many, many interpretations – particularly with regards to the Marauders era, about which we know so little. Just because my headcanon or characterization is different from yours (or vice versa!) doesn’t make it less canon. Similarly, just because something is not explicitly described in the seven books, doesn’t mean it is against canon for it to have happened in the background, unnoticed by Harry, or before the timeline of the seven books starts. See: Wolfstar.

***

Wait, there’s wolfstar in TLE?

Yes. There will be wolfstar in the series. I did tag it from day one, please stop sending me shocked and horrified messages! (lol) Because people have such strong feelings about this ship, I always feel the need to give my little disclaimer: There will be wolfstar. Personally, I love it and am excited to write it. However, if you are a fan of exclusively fluffy, happy wolfstar, you might be disappointed. If you are interested in exploring the fraught, occasionally toxic relationship between two angsty, repressed, and deeply traumatized young men during an escalating war…strap in, gird your loins, etc. We're gonna have some fun.

***

Why do you have two blogs?

Because I'm dumb. Because I didn’t know how tumblr worked when I started this whole nonsense and thought that a side blog sounded like a good idea…aaaaand then pretty much immediately regretted it. This was back before you could reply from a sideblog, so everything was a mess. I'm an archivist at heart, so I can't bring myself to delete @chdarling-tle but I almost exclusively use @chdarling these days. Feel free to only follow that one, unless you only want chapter updates and none of my silly reblogs, in which case @chdarling-tle is here for you. Otherwise it's pretty dead over there.

(ok, confession: this actually isn't a frequently asked question at all, but I shoved it in here anyway because the two blog thing annoys the shit out of me and I wanted to give some context for my disorganization. I meant well, once upon a time!!!)

***

Do you have a Patreon?

I’m amazed and flattered that I’ve been asked this enough to include it in an FAQ, but no, I do not. While I am so appreciative that people want to support this project, TLE is a work of fanfiction, created entirely out of and for love, and is in no way a commercial endeavor. I do not make a penny off of this project. I almost certainly lose pennies to this project. But that's okay! Because of the aforementioned love! And, once again, my deep and enduring desire to not be sued!

***

Ok but seriously when will TLE3 be released?

(sorry I couldn't resist)

[sl-walker]

Help a starving artist

Or, at least, one who is trying quite hard not to.

As people relatively close to me know, I lost my job last July. It was a shitty situation all around, but I survived on savings and unemployment. But frankly, having been a toilet scrubber for most of my life, I never had a huge amount of savings and now unemployment has run out; did last month, in fact. I've sent out well over a thousand applications. I've rejiggered my resume, asked people for letters of recommendation, wrote too many cover letters, etc. I was hired for a job in early January and did my drug test two weeks ago, but I still haven't heard back from that employer, so I'm now staring down the barrel of ah, as if I somehow forgot what terror and poverty felt like again. Delightful. 0/10, would not recommend, though honestly, a lot of people I know already know the feeling.

What can you do?

You can subscribe to my Substack as a paid subscriber. Not only do you get my hopefully entertaining writing in your inbox -- which is free to everyone anyway -- you also get to request things if you're a paid subscriber. If it's monthly, every three months you can request a sketch or a specific comic review or even a fanfic review for yourself or someone else (within reason, like under 10K words). If it's as a founding member, you can request something every single month in the same vein. (Believe me, you're getting a bargain on those requests.)

You can commission me for art. I'm a decent artist. My rate is $25 an hour and I am not swift at it, but I am pretty damn okay and certainly cheaper than a professional artist. To give you a rough idea, that half-body pic I did of Guy was about ten hours, where the one I did of Ted was more like 15. A really good portrait sketch is probably about an hour. The more detailed, the more time.

I might be talked into writing commissions, depending on the writing. You can absolutely talk to me about hiring me if you want me to write your cover letters, because it's a hateful task, but I'm not too bad at it.

I can design letterheads like a boss. I was a printer for over sixteen years.

If you just want to throw money at me, I mean-- who turns that down? (Though I tend to prefer to do something for it, which is probably more evidence than anyone actually needs for what kind of childhood I had. HA!) But my paypal is:

paypal.me/steelandfic

Current utility bills under the cut. Like-- that's not counting groceries, pet food, the roof over my head, the filling in my tooth that I'm waiting for the bill for or anything else. That's just utilities.

And if you can't do anything else, please consider signal-boosting? Thanks.

[justpeaxchy]

I must say I love your httyd headcanons. I would like to place a request. about a headcanon about Hiccup and a sad reader What would Hiccup do to cheer him up?

A/n: Hello! Thank you so much <3, I hope this is another enjoyable read for you! Warnings: mention of insecurities, reader is kind of distant at first.

'Let me love you.'

Right away, Hiccup would notice something is bothering you. I mean, c'mon, he's Hiccup - he's very observant.

If you were one to put on a fake smile whenever you're not feeling great, he'd definitely notice that too. He's been around you long enough to know what your genuine smile looks like.

So, if he sees you in this mood, he's gonna be gentle in his approach, but still very much concerned and wanting to help you right away - for whatever it might be.

If he has to wait for you to be comfortable enough to share, he'll be willing to be patient for you - but it's only a matter of time before he'll start asking again. He wants to try and help you in the best way he can.

He'll notice you're not talking as much throughout the day, questioningly gazing at you to silently ask you what was wrong - even though you avoided most of those looks. Finally, too concerned for his own good, he'll pull you aside to ask outrightly why you're not in the best mood.

"Are you sure you're okay? You haven't been talking much today, and I haven't seen you smiling a lot either lately. What's wrong?" He spoke gently, not wanting to appear demanding.

You folded your arms, not looking at him in the eyes. "I don't have to be smiling all day, Hiccup." You heard him sigh, barely glancing at him as you saw him brush his hair out of his face.

"I know, I know, but.. it's unlike you to be acting this way." He paused, considering his next words before continuing, "Listen, if you need more time to yourself for whatever's bothering you, I won't stop you. But please don't leave me hanging for too long. You're too important to me for me to just.. ignore whatever's going on with you."

He'll constantly be checking on you throughout the day, or perhaps week, if it's something occupying your thoughts for a longer period of time. He's not too subtle about wanting to know what's making you this way, but he tries to be as respectful to your boundaries as much as possible.

Once you're ready to share with him, he'll listen to every word you have to say, making sure he doesn't interrupt you with any unnecessary comment (if it was about someone else making you feel this way.)

He'll let you cry it out if you needed to, despite that he felt a little awkward at first, but he pushes through that for your sake. He never really got that type of comfort a lot, so he did his best to bring some form of relief to you during your time of distress.

Now, if it was another person who did this to you and he knows them on Berk, best believe that this man is gonna confront them about it - in his own Hiccup way.

If it's something personal you're dealing with, like an insecurity or something that's happened to you in the past, he'll sit there and talk you through it. He knows what it's like to have insecurities, so he uses some of his experiences to encourage you that they aren't something to be looked down upon.

"Look, those things are not gonna change anything. That won't change how I see you. I'm still going to love you through it just like you did for me, so, will you let me?"

Either way, he is. You can't stop him.

Gifts. He'll bring you small little trinkets or things he knows you like.

Flowers, unique little rocks he found (especially if you collect rocks), sketches of the things you like, etc.

Overall, he's a little unsure of what to do at first, but once he has his mind set on helping you get better, there's no getting rid of him until that's accomplished.

------------------------------------------

[steddieas-shegoes]

Drabble idea for the ask thing: Steve works at a tattoo shop and Eddie works at a flower shop, they both get odd looks when they tell people about their job. Bonus: Eddie gets a tattoo of a flower from Steve and that's how they meet.

This is like if you took call me sunshine, send me to space and made it cuter with a flower shop and made Steve the tattoo artist instead. I'm just gonna write the bonus scene because that's a lot to keep 500 words or less and we all know how I go on 😂 Don't @ me over the super sappy ending, someone with spoons please write another 50k of this.

🌷🌼🌻🌷🌼🌻🌷🌼🌻

"You want a wildflower bouquet in the space of your full sleeve?" Steve stared at the fully tattooed man over his glasses, brows raised in disbelief. "I'm not one to judge tattoo choices but you seem to know what you're doing and I'm a bit confused as to how that fits with...anything else on your arm."

Steve had definitely done some wild tattoos. He was actively part of so many bad decisions made by people who would live to regret getting their girlfriend's name on their neck or the face of their best friend on their thigh.

But this one was different in that this guy had clearly meticulously planned out every tattoo on his body, and that was a lot of tattoos, and now he wanted to add...wildflowers. In between skulls and guitars and some metal band logo. Right.

"Yeah and if it's a problem, I can go somewhere else, man. I just heard a lot of good things about you and my flower shop is two doors down, so-"

"Wait. You're Eddie? You're the guy who owns the flower shop." Steve perked up, face relaxing more into a smile.

"The one and only. You been by?" Eddie didn't remember actually seeing Steve before.

He'd been shocked to walk in and see a barely tattooed Steve sitting behind the counter. Assuming he was the secretary, he'd said he was here for an appointment with the guy in charge, and Steve smiled and explained who he was.

"I haven't. But someone brought me a bouquet you made when I first opened and it was beautiful. Managed to keep it alive and thriving for almost two weeks, which is a record for me, and then someone said it was because of the way you take care of them before they're sold and the minerals you use in the water and I'm turning into Robin. Jesus."

Eddie was endeared.

Steve was looking down at his tablet in front of him, a barely visible sketch on it.

"Is that what you've come up with?" Eddie asked as he leaned over the counter to get a closer look.

They could talk about his love of the bouquet Eddie made later.

"Yeah, but. Now that I'm looking at you...I'm not sure it's right," Steve sighed, closing the app and looking back up at Eddie. "I can redesign at no charge and set up another consultation."

"Can I see?"

"Sure."

Steve pulled his tablet out and opened the picture back up.

It was beautiful, actually resembled a bouquet Eddie had done not long ago for his friend Jonathan.

"It's perfect. Can it be done in one long sitting or do we need to break it up?" Eddie smiled at Steve, pulling up the calendar on his phone to make an appointment.

"Uh. Well." Steve cleared his throat. "I guess you could probably handle the pain so all in one is fine with me? It's probably gonna be six hours with breaks every hour. Are you sure this is what you want?"

Eddie looked at the tablet again, tilting his head as he thought back to when he'd made this bouquet.

"Do you know Jonathan Byers?" Eddie asked, not looking away from the picture.

His eyes focused on the coneflower that he'd only been able to use in one bouquet before his part time employee found out they were allergic.

"Yeah...why?"

"He got you that bouquet, right?"

Steve nodded.

Eddie didn't really believe in fate or destiny or whatever type of miracle people tended to wish for. He also didn't believe in soulmates or the perfect partner.

But wildflowers grow anywhere, and sometimes love can too.

[sl33paholics]

Omg Yandere Johan x Black fem reader would be so hottttt!

My Little Mouse

Johan Liebert x black!fem reader

Warning(s): Gaslighting, isolation, psychological warfare, manipulation, etc.

Mfw I still haven't finished the 2nd Valentine's day writing piece: 😧😧😧😧😨

You heard the sound of the door knob turning.

Your heart sank. The few hours of freedom you had is now gone, going back to sulking on your mattress like a child whose favorite toy was taken away. You could only hope that the guy who entered wouldn’t mind if you hid under the blankets.

No such luck.

You can hear his steps coming closer, and in just a few seconds, you feel the covers being lifted up, exposing your head to the cold air outside your apartment. Your eyes widened, and you buried your head as deep into the pillow as possible, hoping you were just enough to prevent him from seeing your face. But it wasn’t working. Johan's eyes were already locked on yours. “Ah, there you are,” he said with a smile, and you couldn’t help but notice how charming it looked on this man, despite the fact that he was a psychopath.

“What are you doing here, little mouse?” Johan asked, leaning over the bed until you felt heat of his body radiating on your skin. He leaned down, and you could smell his cologne, which smelled like roses and vanilla, with a hint of cinnamon. His warm lips grazed your forehead before his teeth bit into your earlobe. You flinched at the contact but didn't pull away, knowing he would be more aggressive after hurting you. The pain was nothing compared to the humiliation you're feeling right now.

"...don't do that," you mumbled, wincing at the slight pressure against your flesh. "Please..." You knew that if you said anything else, he'd hurt you more.

So instead, you closed your eyes and prepared for another round of torture by Johan, when suddenly his arms were pulled around your waist, your head resting against his chest. You opened your eyes again, confused, and saw his dark gaze fixed on something behind you. Confused, you glanced behind yourself and saw that he was staring at your sketch book. Your hand unconsciously moved towards it, trying to hide it from him, but he noticed it anyway. "Are you drawing me?" He asked in an amused tone. "How cute." You could almost feel his grin when you turned your head to look at him.

You shifted yourself away from him, trying to get away from him as soon as possible, but he held you tighter. "Let go of me,” you demanded, squirming to try to break free from his grip. “Leave me alone!" Your voice broke at the last sentence, sounding so vulnerable and helpless that you wished you hadn't said anything.

That grin.

That sly grin he had on his face made you want to punch him.

Throughout your stay, you noticed that he'd never put his hands on you, ever.

No matter how much you screamed, berated him, kicked him, and did anything to Johan, he never seemed to get angry at you one bit. You found it very difficult to hate him. You hated his smugness, his cockiness, his coldness, and the way he treats you like a prisoner in this apartment. It was infuriating. "Why do you continue to fight?" Johan asked in a soft tone. "I give you everything. Shelter to stay, food to eat, a shower to clean yourself." He laughed humorlessly. "Why must you struggle so?"

"You know why," you replied harshly, glaring at him. "You don't care about me." You felt guilty saying those words, even though you did mean them. Maybe you didn't. Maybe it was true, and you deserved to feel that way.

Without warning, Johan cupped your face with such force that you felt the pain shooting through your face, his thumb pressing hard onto the side of your jaw. The sting lingered, but you didn't dare to let out a sound, afraid he'd do something to you. Johan made your head turn towards the length mirror, "Look at yourself, Y/N," he told you in a harsh whisper. "Can't you see yourself? You're beautiful." And then he kissed you. This time, it was a gentle kiss, with no tongue involved. The gentleness shocked you because you thought that he would do something more to you than simply kiss you. But he simply placed his finger underneath your chin and gently tilted your head, forcing you to look at yourself.

"I love your eyes, their color. They're the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen." Johan spoke softly, his breath hitting the corner of your lips, causing shivers to run down your spine. "Their shape makes my soul feel like it will burst. So bright and alive. Can you imagine? A beautiful soul, hidden underneath all that..." He trailed off, looking at you expectantly. "Beautiful clothes. Perfect hair. A face that could light up a room and a laugh that could fill up a room." Then, he chuckled.

"And a voice as sweet as honey."

You protested weakly, wanting to slap him. No, not a perfect soul, but not bad either. Johan continued talking, ignoring your protest. "A life filled with laughter and smiles, filled with joy. But that won't happen anymore, will it? Because someone has stolen it away from you." "Johan, please stop-" But once again, you couldn't finish the sentence. "You're mine. Nobody else can have you, understand?" Johan grabbed your shoulder, holding you still, so that you didn't escape him. "Nobody." You nodded meekly, trying your best to appear calm despite the fact that you felt like crying.

Silence filled the tension between you two, Johan stared at you for what felt like ages, before letting you go. You immediately scrambled backwards to avoid his touch, putting distance between you, going back to the corner of the bed. All you wanted was to live in peace, and now you were being forced to give that up...because of Johan Liebert?

"Now, litte mouse, we should start our day. It's been a while since I've spent time with you."

[bokutooooo]

Dream Ride PT- 2 ᰔᩚ

The annoying sounds of my alarm clock going off waking me up almost instantly and I can already feel my head pounding. Last night I ended up going to one of Han's infamous parties and let's just say it was fun. "Morning Cassidy, how'd you sleep?" Cassidy was my aunt, one of the main reasons I came to Japan after mom threw me out. "it was fine, woke up a couple of times but nothing to bad. How's Neela? you girls have fun? being careful I hope". I grab a box of cereal and a bowl "It was fun I mean just regular car stuff.. Neela likes my car so that's good" I laugh thinking about how Neela kept asking me to let her drive it. "I'm glad, just make sure you guys are being careful and staying out of trouble" I give her a nod walking towards the small couch. I haven't really told her anything about Han I don't think she'll like it, which means I probably shouldn't be getting involved with him but can you blame me? his shoulder length jet black hair, his little smile and I mean have you seen the 1997 Mazda RX-7 it's almost to nice. "Hey? you going to start getting ready? Don't want you getting yelled at again."

"Hey Neela whatcha doing?" I say as I'm walking into class. "Nothing too exciting just sketching something knew, you think I should get a Toyota Supra? I mean how cute would that be." I lightly laugh "I think you should get whatever you like, you have the time and money right? so do it." she gives me a small smile and continues sketching away.

I sat down as our professor walked in, all I could ever think about was cars, friends and.. well Han. I know it's stupid, thinking about a guy who pays me little to no attention but I can't stop. My grades were going down, I was starting to care less and stop trying but If I don't start picking them back up my aunt will notice and question me than I would have to tell her something. "Hey! let's go times up" I look up and Neela's waiting for me "class is over? already?" I swear class just started "Yeah??? let's go weirdo."

Me and Neela were out shopping "What about this one? it's cuteee, c'monnnn look at the lace lining" I look up from my phone. She was buying a new skirt.. yet all the ones she's tried on were kind of.. ugly? "No." I look back down "whatever!" she aggressively shuts the the curtains of the change room. "How's Hanny booooo have you texted him? "Why would I be texting him?" she pops her head out "because you like love him? and you always want to talk to him."

"Well I haven't talked to him since the party so." It's true I do love finding an excuse to talk to him but I guess I'm starting to realize that we have like no chance together. "What's up? you suddenly stopped liking him?" "No it's just- It's not going to happen. Like ever, so I'm going to stop being a fangirl and find someone else. Plus Cassidy would ever approve and I won't let her down."

"Oh come on! you guys like.. love each other!! maybe thats to quick.. but! you guys love talking to one another and love hanging out, so who cares what others think? Cassidy you'll talk to when it happens, don't worry about before it even happens."

Neela had a point but I'm not even sure I was ready, I don't even know how Han feels.

Once Neela found an outfit she liked we went to go eat. "Hey Neela I'm gonna go grab something from Starbucks want something?" "mmm.. sure! just an iced coffee please."

"Hey Neela got your ice-" I paused, DK and Morimoto sat on either side of her. "Oh hey DK what are you doing here?" "Just came for something to do, ran into you two." Neela looked a bit uncomfortable, DK practically breathing on her and Morimoto right on the other side "Me and Neela were just about to leave but we'll probably see you guys tonight." "Yeah sorry guys see you later!"

Tonight was one of the biggest Drift events of the year. It would be packed, cars in every spot, people everywhere, music blasting and food. That's why me and Neela went shopping, had to look extra good tonight. "Why was DK like breathing down you're neck? he's pretty clingy for someone your not dating" "I know but we've been best friends for agesss, kind of hard to just stop you know?"

"Eeee! look at it! so cute!!" I was admiring my self In the full body mirror. I had white leg warmers with pompoms on them, and light pink tank top with a dark pink outline and a white headband. "look at you cutie!" "never mind meee look at you beautiful" Neela had on a short denim skirt, black military boots with a heel and half up half down hairstyle with a bow. "ready to go? we should try to get there before it gets to packed, gonna need to park somewhere."

Hope you enjoyed this part!>

[mrpenguinpants]

Telling genshin boys about Orpheus and Eurydice and asking them if they’d look back

My Faint Magnolia

— He wonders how many times he's heard you tell this story, and how many more he'll force you to recite.

— Dottore / Zandik

White magnolia flowers symbolize purity and perfection. [Masterlist]

I read one Wiki page so don't yell at me if I got anything wrong. Tbh, I don't really like how this fic turned out but it's been sitting in my drafts for years.

"The musician and prophet Orpheus fell in love with the beautiful Eurydice, only for her to die shortly after. Thus, he journeyed into the Underworld to plead with Hades to bring his beloved back. His wish was granted - but on the condition that he must not look back at Eurydice until they were both back in the land of the living. But Orpheus couldn't resist one glance, and Eurydice was lost to him forever."

"Fascinating. The seventh retelling adds to the suspense."

"Boo, you're no fun. Minus ten points," he hears you whine. The sounds of a book being tossed carelessly aside as ink-stained papers filled with formulas slide forward and brush against the sleeves of his arm. All are pushed away to allow you to sprawl your upper body over the desk so you can mope and continue to avoid doing any actual work. He can feel your gaze on him, patiently waiting for him to look up from his notes and give you attention, yet he continues to write making you huff in annoyance.

You're both supposed to be working on your assignments, so he has excellent reason to keep ignoring you to focus on his work. If anything, he should be annoyed at you, and he is, but it's a testament to how much he's come to tolerate you that he doesn't immediately get up and leave. Or deal with you in another, less unsavory way. Instead, he flips back through the pages of his notebook. A list of collected components of spare parts of a vast machine and smaller notes of their possible working principles and manufacturing processes. Diagrams and sketches of their possible construction and engines filled with footnotes and annotations. Not all of them are in his writing. He wouldn't dare use that atrocious shade of yellow that you seem to love so much.

"Can't we do anything else? I'm bored out of my minddd," you stretch the words out, effectively cutting his concentration in half with nothing but the sound of your voice. He can feel his eye twitch and his pencil's wood creaking from the pressure he's slowly exerting onto it. Your voice is muffled, which means you haven't picked yourself off the table yet, probably hunched over with your cheek against the table that will take another hour for you to pry yourself back up again. He can't wait for his future headache with your complaints about back problems, even though you're killing your own spine and his head. The sound of a pencil rolling back and forth fills the silence, and that's the last of his patience. He slams his notebook down, the pencil bouncing and dropping onto the floor, and the clattering of wood causes his frown to etch deeper. He re-opens his notebook to the page of the Khaenri'ahn machines found in Devantaka Mountain. There's an annoying doodle of a Ruin Hunter in the corner mocking him right back.

"Work."

His clipped voice has you quiet down. It's a good thing you have some sense of preservation and know that even though he indulges you frequently, there are only so many distractions he will let slip through. But the resounding sound of a chair scraping against the floor, papers being shuffled, and your footsteps tell him you're equally frustrated. He thinks he hears you mutter "rigid oaf" under your breath as your footsteps grow fainter. The silence should put him at ease, but it only serves to irate him further since you're the one who's causing him trouble when he just wants to work in peace and quiet. The worst thing about this situation is that he knows you'll refuse to talk to him unless he apologizes first for something he hasn't done wrong. But alas.

He lets out a deep sigh that sounds twice his age. Puspa Café should still be open at this time. If he leaves now, he can still catch up to you. With a sweep of the arm, he quickly gathers his papers haphazardly but still slides them into their rightful places between the meticulous sections of his notebook.

"Would you look back?"

He pauses when your voice sounds behind him unexpectedly. You sound a mixture of cheeky and skeptical, but the drumming of your fingertips against the back of his chair tells him that you are genuinely curious about his response. Maybe even a bit nervous to ask him such a ridiculous question too.

"The fatal flaw of Orpheus is he never stopped to consider the psychological cost of Hade's offer. To think "Do not look back" is an impossible sentence to think without simultaneously speaking the opposite. Every time you repeat, "I must not look back," you are forced to say: "Look back." But that is the weakness of the human mind," is the answer he supplies. He thumbs at the edges of his notebook, worn from all the years he's opened it but still in pristine condition. He doesn't like his things to be dirty. It makes his skin crawl.

"What? Are you above the human mind now? So you wouldn't be tempted at all?" you say with a hint of dumbfoundedness. He's sure you think that he won't give you an actual answer.

"No."

His answer is short but firm. He won't look back. He won't be Orpheus and lose his Eurydice so easily to temptation. His finger moves and tips the cover open, papers flipping until they stop in the middle of the book. Frantic scribbles of ink of his research on the rare disease of Elezar. He thumbs the page's corner until it creases.

"Hey, look at me."

The next page is on segments.

"Why won't you look at me."

The final page is on dreams.

""Please look at me Zandik."

He closes the notebook.

"I thought Orpheus couldn't hear Eurdicye."

He hears you laugh at his unempathetic reply. It's a hallow imitation. Then silence. It always ends like this. His mind dangling what he needs most only to take it away, making him question if you are even still there behind him. Just one look. Just one look to confirm what's behind him but he won't. He won't be a fool like Orpheus. Not until he's finished. So he does what he always has, removes any option he hates, and creates his own means.

+

He blinks awake slowly. The white ceiling of his laboratory stares at him back and the first thing his mind registers is that it's cold. His hand automatically moves to his side only to meet air. That's right, you're not here anymore. You haven't been here for years. The manifestation of the withering caused dark hardened scales to grow across your limbs. Slowly numbing the affected areas until you couldn't walk anymore, which progressed into fatigue and progressive nerve damage. Your last days were spent asleep in a coma surrounded by as many Nilotpala Lotuses as he could find. He closes his eyes again, but the sound of the heavy steel door grates against his nerves before he has the time to truly relax.

"You know you'll never succeed. You know why. Even if this one doesn't die, it won't be the same."

The voice isn't right. Another failure.

Dottore lifts his head to see your segment standing in front of him. That's correct. He can already see the beginnings of scales on the segment's arms. It's funny. He is capable of creating physical carbon copy segments of himself from different stages of his life and yet you, the outlier, it's never the same. A body is made, and a piece of his memories of you acts as the brain, but it's never the same. He knows why. It's because his memories of you are dying. His dreams are getting shorter, and fuzzier around the edges. He used to dream of seeing you, holding you, and he knows the next time he dreams of you, he may not hear your voice anymore. His own segment thoughts echo in his mind. Don't you think this is a waste of materials and time? It's time to give up. They don't understand, they can't dream.

He won't look back because he knows that as soon as he does, he will never dream of you again. Even if the next dream takes away your voice, the next takes away your presence, until he's left with a void of nothing. Even then, he won't look back. He has only dreamed of you every single night, regardless of anything. These are the only things he has left of you. Everything else was taken, stolen, or burnt. He isn't sure if the person he's constantly dreaming of now is actually you or a figment of his imagination that's begging to be free. But he won't let you go.

My doleful aria, tell me that story again tonight.

[white-knight7255]

I've been on a marvel rivals ride for at least a month now. I've seen many ships and I fuckin love them but one I haven't seen often (expect for that one artists I saw recently and died of happiness seeing there art of this ship.)

Moonknight and Adam warlock, I found this ship during a funny moment in the practice range between me and my friends, they had Bucky and Hawkeye ship going. So it kind of went as moonknight being buckys demon and I just chased the bucky around, bugging him and causing distress (not actually distress) between Bucky and Hawkeye. All fun and games right, I won't explain all of it but we came to a point somewhere in this like...3 hour practice range fun fuck around, and the Bucky and Hawkeye said something about Moonknight needing his own partner to distract him from constantly "THE MOON HAUNTS YOU" Buckys demon. So we went through two characters, first Mr. Fantastic which was just for funnys cuz of the divorce arc. But then Adam showed up, one of our friends mains him like I do moonknight and I started thinking.

"Hmm sun and moon....hehe" *insert evil fly rubbing hands together.* and yeah, that's how this ship came to be between me and a few friends and how this art came to light (since we both use these skins) that's how I found the ship, and then went to go see if there was anything else and sadly found out it wasn't that popular but that's ok, sometimes it's nice when it's small. Anyways here is an art piece, not properly rendered or inked since it was just a rushed sketch colored piece ( I'm trying to get out of an art block currently) hope yall like them! Sorry for the yapping.

[lilolilyr]

Lilo Reads - April 2025 edition

I have read 2.8 million words in fanfic in April!

January • February • March • 2024

I've also read three of the most atrocious kids books this month, and I mean I usually don't enjoy hatewatching or hatereading stuff but in this case I had a blast. Do you know Enid Blyton's Mallory Towers (German 'Dolly')? These are as if a whole series is straight up from Evelyn's POV. She's nasty to everyone, tries to ruin her parents' marriage but is mad when she succeeds, has self esteem issues and tries to bring everyone down so she doesn't have to worry they're above her anymore, cares more about her appearance than anything else, is so bitchy even to the girls she considers her friends, and instead of getting over her issues and properly settling in at the boarding school she just seems to get a bit better but then starts acting idiotically again in the next book! Would hate to meet her irl, loved the books, 10/10, I read them within a week xD

Apart from those, I just continued the non-fiction book 'The Bird Way' and re-read some Yoko Tsuno comics from the library, I still love those comics so much, especially the collection editions with bonus info and sketches! They're originally French and not all of them have been translated into English, but a whole bunch of them can be found here :)

And I actually wrote something this month! An almost 20k long Sci-Fi Adventure story, Lucifer's Servant, vaguely based on the Yoko Tsuno comic of the same name but with characters from Warehouse 13, I think everyone's introduced neatly enough that anyone can read it, without knowing either of those fandoms! I'm really proud of it I wouldn't have expected writing such a long story after months of just tiny comment fics :}

Maybe I'll write some more fic again next month - feel free to send me May Trope Mayhem prompts!

As for fics I enjoyed reading, this might be the first month where the majority of the fics are gen fics? While I did indeed read a couple of the expected Avorah fics (mainly by @bkwormkate thank you for the good work <3) because the new season of Hacks is out, I only managed to watch the first two episodes so far, so most fics are too spoilery rn, and I haven't really gotten back into reading much fic for the ship or much femslash in general... Instead I've read a bit of Marvel, some more 00Q and McDanno, and when it comes to my fic recs of the month, you can mainly see that my Star Wars obsession has come back with full force xD here goes:

• JasBen Save a Galaxy Far, Far Away Jaster/OW by @batshieroglyphics, 60k, T, Time Travel

• We're Jedi. We've totally got this. humor by @mytimeconsumingsidehobby, 16k, G, Time Travel

• Those Who Walk by @antebunny, Vader, Leia, Luke, Obi-Wan and lots of chaos, 50k, G

• How Does it End Again? by thatonefangirltho, Din Djarin time travels and becomes Mand'alor, 260k, G

• For I Still Live by saltysarah, Mandalorians at MelidaDaan, 600k, G-E, mainly Obi-Wan but lots of different POVs for example Dooku or Asajj Ventress, the series is in order of posting date, I put the reading order in my bookmark just scroll down on the link :)

• stars sing my name, scars tell my story by @independent-variables and the follow-up there's a place for us by @djemsowhat, total 60k T, the clone wars are stopped before they can begin

• Ashes Verse by @livsy, Old Ben has time travelled back to the clone wars era, Anakin notices. 38k, T

• All the Stars and Galaxies in His Eyes, 16k, T, by @wanderingjedihistorian, Jango has a ka'ra-given quest as Mand'alor, eventual Jangobi

But I do have one fic in another fandom I really liked:

• Catch Your Voice by @lavvyan, a ClintCoulson (Marvel) shippy fic, 14k, T, #coulsonlives :)

On my To Read for next month are a couple Bering and Wells fics I heard about during the anniversary meetup on Discord last week, and of course I still have a whole bunch of Star Wars fic tabs open :D

No-pressure-tagging everyone tagged above to also share their fic recs!

Oh, and I made a book list! The tumblr poll's already over but you can still look through the listchallenge, and make your own as well if you like!

~ continue reading ~

I also randomly read a bunch of Jack/Elizabeth/Will ot3 fics after rewatching the first Pirates film with my mom? Not my usual ship so it goes below the read- more, but yeah I guess saving it here for posterity xD

My Wordcount math as always:

Because my Excel died and wouldn't calculate Sum and I copied it to calculator you even get the History this month: 2275+616+22941+3970+12805+24832+1396+896+3079+2403+68596+552+1048+14192+2341+2722+2254+1346+1210+1199+1850+1224+1791+5340+2329+3120+3003+18299+46659+0+0+3452+13999+2530+6301+36193+791+264380+1520+623+1153+6145+1887+12196+653+2568+2848+1351+6018+1362+155+597+687+8110+385+1377+1414+1982+865+1753+6532+341+1574+2774+8279+1604+3394+1398+2018+1837+1455+1958+2049+1121+1255+2665+2222+915+2246+5908+1297+11750+17016+8628+2051+1368+1111+1473+1962+3042+5418+1164+746+3220+11272+11445+8504+18748+1173+2126+8043+11098+3235+4342+10198+19896+64481+4560+15750+2334+14552+3706+3887+3040+8688+3646+6176+19681+5876+7733+4671+1014+1702+2032+1866+5433+21852+5468+410+679+11492+1683+1943+5311+7146+22463+10796+12016+5322+5123+28301+1971+3941+2100+200+1952+8272+2033+250+2089+2124+37638+1261+4+10768+6079+1221+6366+6547+43760+21866+1677+6296+1329+3020+13910+9770+5065+3029+8758+2224+4193+7778+256282+1124+340+1596+1738+1293+1648+1171+2910+0+1517+1247+13565+8426+77395+2240+15343+7611+4414+2075+4077+643+915+649+2438+3437+1007+2532+16124+4927+16877+38060+3850+93391+3233+82922+2061+55675+68877+4150+1430+2386+60459+40523+2794+45538+24005+122+18+401+15108+17744+26428+28060+34157+12074+15179+30095+3599+6541+8248+11887+1403+169720+2630+1856+5875+1444+56461+5461+1289+3890+7388+19015+1468+8792+1654+3099+11880+5138+3603+4515+4609+3114+891+2097+2116+5782+6203+883+2593+1518+3242+5813+3670+2630+2529+4678+14180+1532+568+896+727+504+405+396+712+30868+1834+997+809+536+625+637+680+350+295+450+220+1309+2147+1411+403+543+721+1099+3267+930+396+2162+712+30239+9379+21501+24782+8560+1294+1767+3559+12524+1317+1818+1178+244+778+859+3630+11698+402+1793+1737+8567+4240+1134+3186+3318+549+1564+2672+1818+1858+568+10072+2860+368+1984+2053+1343+6376+1595+1076+14570+1356+4100+8970+8031+5613+8139+973+7791+18956+2207+16856+603+3306+3833+6044+10459+976+13614+14486+1945 Yea. It be like that =3393712

- To Read:−68596−64481−28301−13565−93391−68877− 26428−5461−7388−30868−1099−8970=−417425

- To continue reading −122718

- didn't read yet −19896

- didn't reread apr25 -30239

no non ao3 works this month

Total:=3393712−417425−122718−19896-30239

=2.803.434

My formula so I have it noted down for next time: history - to read(exclude:series, exclude: external source) - to continue reading (exclude: series, exclude: external source, exclude: to read) - didn't read yet (exclude: series) + external source (exclude: to read, exclude: to continue reading, exclude: didn't read yet) & check month tag (mar25 in this case) and add and subtract as noted (subtract usually, it's probably 'didnt reread now' on an old bookmark, unless it's external source I've actually reread)

Edit may5: ahh I just found a draft post from April 3 saying 'what I've been reading April'25: Stucky (specifically all kinds of stories where Steve finds out about gay rights <3)'. Which is so funny because yes I read a lot of Stucky the first days of April but in the end I read so much other shit that it just turned irrelevant! And to make it even funnier I think the exact same thing is happening this month! I read a bunch of Stucky fics the first few days, even wrote a Stucky drabble because I was so into it, and now today I'm fully back in the Star Wars obsession adsfghjkl

[lurking-latinist]

The fascinating thing about mediocre Victorian three-volume novel The Pit Town Coronet, which evidently I am liveblogging now?, is (what I know to be a characteristic of the era and the genre, but this one's taking it to extremes) its propensity for jumping between characters. As soon as we've gotten invested in one little scene, we drift away to some other vignette with completely different people, often brand-new people with little obvious relevance. We just spent an entire chapter getting to know a burglar before learning that he intends to burgle Georgina's husband's cousin (whom we barely know). None of the events seem to have any consequences for the characters, because the plot just goes somewhere else. Lucy did get blackmailed for a bit by a servant who had found out she was Lucius' mother, but all he wanted was to get his old job back, and then we got distracted by the new High Church curate and what the vicar's wife thought of him. (To be fair to the author, the new curate did go on to propose to Lucy and she turned him down, and while she was turning him down she seemed to be motivated by guilt over her secret baby, but she had already made up her mind to turn him down anyway because she just doesn't want to be married, so there's no actual cause-effect relationship going on there.)

You know what it almost feels like to me? It feels like a science fiction novel that's more interested in worldbuilding than anything else, and that will give you a chapter randomly from the perspective of the sentient android toaster just because the author wants you to know about sentient android toasters in their world. But this is set in the real world, about twenty years before its publication (I think--it wasn't indicated as set in the past at any point, but there was an offhand reference to the battle of Waterloo being forty-something years ago), and I'm not used to that kind of book being so dedicated to just wandering through its world.

I'm wondering if maybe the author isn't very comfortable with letting his characters experience consequences, develop, and change. He seems to enjoy drawing little character sketches of various types and classes of people (many of them very stereotype-driven, but some--I suspect those from his own class and background--with a certain amount of insight). Maybe letting his characters outgrow those caricatured roles wasn't what he wanted to do. But it's affecting the course of the plot, because he's not writing a series of character sketches; he's setting up events which they ought to change in response to, and don't.

I wonder whether he's planning to set up a huge denouement where everything everybody's done throughout the novel will come back to bite them. I think Georgina's husband might inherit this earldom, in which case Lucius' real parentage will become extremely important, but the thing is it doesn't seem likely anyone will do anything about it! Georgina was massively conscience-stricken when she first agreed to pass off the child as her own, and she was described to us as someone who loved truth but who felt completely bound by a promise she had rashly made to Lucy; but we haven't seen Georgina for chapters and chapters, or her husband, to be honest. Also Lucius and George ought to be old enough to be interesting by now, but they seem to have vanished, and I'm not sure the author is keeping track of the passage of time.

[fiorimaya]

JanPepper Week: Day One - The Beginning

@janpepperweek Oh gosh... I'm sorry for how late this is. Going to do my best to have something for all the prompts by October! ALSO I know what Janice said in the show about, you know... how she got Floyd LOL but I'm not going to use that (because I just don't know how LOL) but anyways... hope you all enjoy :)

The board-house full of Muppets was busy and loud as per usual, though the thoughts swirling through Janice's mind seemed much louder. All of it was becoming a bit too much for her, so she made her way to the roof and sat down, looking up at the sky as the sun set and painted the sky so many pretty colors. She took a deep breath; only sound she heard being the traffic on the interstate in the distance. This was "her place". Well, her and Floyd's. They had started going up there to the roof all the time just to talk. It had started just over a month earlier when Janice found herself in a rather difficult situation. She was in a band and one of her bandmates had been given another title: her ex. She and Zoot had tried to make it work, but it just didn't work out that way. The Muppet Show was nearing its second season and the last thing Janice wanted was for things to be awkward. Would the band's performances be awkward? And what about the At the Dance sketches in which Kermit had paired her with Zoot?

Her and Zoot had both kept showing up to band rehearsals, and even then, they still spoke to each other. It just felt different. It was weird. Janice didn't like that, and she was sure Zoot didn't like it either. They were close for the longest time; long before anything romantic started between them. Thankfully, it had gotten much better over the last month and a half. The awkwardness was slowly fading, and they were both thankful. But now... new thoughts spun in Janice's mind.

Floyd was always there to listen to her feelings during the whole thing that was happening with her and Zoot. Right there on the roof where she sat was where it always happened. Not only would Floyd listen, but he made Janice feel heard. He made her feel calm. He made her feel less alone. She truly believed that just him being there for her made the whole situation so much more bearable for her. She felt safe with him; and when she really thought about it, she realized no one else had ever made her feel that way. Not even Zoot.

There was just something about the way Floyd talked to her, looked at her, that made her heart skip a beat. She had known Floyd even before she knew the others in the band. She saw him all the time, yet somehow, she wanted to see him even more. She thought that she was in love with Zoot, but she was feeling something now for Floyd that made her doubt that "in love" was exactly what she had felt for Zoot. She cared about Zoot, of course she did. But with Floyd it was just different. It was more.

What would he, like, even see in me anyways? She thought to herself. And wouldn't it be too soon anyways? Like, Zoot and I haven't even been broken up for two months yet.

She sighed and looked up at the sky above her. It was getting darker now, and the stars were lightly twinkling despite the sun not being fully set yet. She knew Floyd would be here soon, looking for her once he noticed she wasn't with the others while they prepared for dinner. As if her thoughts sent him a cue, she heard the door open and felt his presence beside of her.

"Hey Jan. You okay?" He asked her, something off in his voice.

She turned her attention to him then. "Fer sure. Are you?"

He looked down and didn't answer. "Sorry it took me a bit. I noticed you were gone and started to come up but Teeth wanted to talk."

Had something happened between him and Teeth? She shifted so that she could face him, one leg curled under her and the other left dangling off the edge of the roof. "Is everything okay? Did something, like, happen?"

He kept his gaze down and let out a breath. "We just, uh, got into a bit of an argument."

Janice's mouth gaped. "An argument? About what?"

Floyd let out another breath that sounded more like a bit of a laugh this time. Finally, he looked at her. "You."

Janice was taken aback. "Me? Like, why?"

Floyd looked down again, blushing slightly. He knew he could tell her, that she wouldn't be upset with him for it. Because talking about anything and anything at all was just natural for them. It always had been. "He, uh... he caught on and noticed that I, uh, y'know... like you."

Janice just stared at him, not sure exactly what to say at first. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

"Like... like me?" She finally got a few words out.

Floyd laughed his usual laugh then. "Yeah, Jan. I like you. Y'know, like that. He's just worried if something did ever happen between us like that, what it would mean for the band. Given your history with Zoot and all that."

That made Janice wonder if Teeth had caught on to her having feelings for Floyd, too.

Floyd continued. "I mean, I don't want things to be even more awkward for you and Zoot again after you two are finally getting back to a good, uh, not awkward place. But I just wanted you to know that I do like you a lot, Janice. And... I wanna be with you. I actually have for quite some time now."

Janice felt her cheeks getting warm as she tried to fight a giggle at how cute his rambling was. She couldn't remember him ever doing it before. She had to bite her lip as his rambling continued.

"And I understand if you don't feel the same or you're not ready or if you're, y'know, done with band members or-"

"Floyd, stop," she cut him off, her giggle finally escaping her lips. He looked over at her again, and she rested a hand on his shoulder. "I-I do like you," she smiled. "Y'know, like that."

"You do?" He blinked a few times.

"Fer sure," she nodded. "And I wanna be with you too, Floyd."

Floyd looked at her in disbelief, and then let out a happy laugh. "So... we're a thing now?"

"I'd like to be," Janice coyly told him.

"And Zoot?"

"We'll figure that out later," she told him, wrapping her arms around him. He returned the hug, her face against his chest. She smiled more. "I'm sure everything will like, turn out fine. All I know is I like, wanna be with you no matter what."

Floyd nodded, even though she couldn't see from her position. He gently pressed a kiss into the top of her head and sighed happily. "I feel the same exact way, Jan."

[perpetualdaydreamerr]

Upon the Eternal Shore: An EPIC the Musical Fanfiction (Chapter 4)

Snippets of the 7 years Odysseus spent with Calypso.

---

CONTENT WARNING: heavily implied r*pe, non-con, victim-blaming, emotional abuse, PTSD, descriptions of violence. Please consider before reading.

---

Days 357 & 471

-

He had traced every corner of the island more times than he could possibly count.

In the months that had passed, he'd requested more papyrus from Calypso multiple times. What had started off as an initial sketch of the island had developed into excessive record keeping of every detail he could possibly capture in writing.

He found a sturdy fallen log nearly twice his height. He painstakingly spent weeks laying it down along the coast, hurling it over itself, and doing so again and again until he had measured a given dimension of the island in his own new metric: “one log”. This gave him a reference point for everything else, something to build off of.

His drafts only became more and more meticulous from there. He was convinced that somewhere, in the heart of the island, there was a puzzle he had to solve. Something about its shape or characteristics that held the key for his escape. Perhaps a combination he had to repeat back to the goddess. Maybe a hidden treasure that needed to be found and presented to her. It was the only idea he had left.

There was absolutely no means of physical escape. She never left him alone, not truly. On the multitude of occasions he'd tried to swim away in a blind flurry, he had quickly been apprehended. Any raft he had attempted to build had been immediately sabotaged. The wood would rot overnight, the sails would come undone. Trying to paddle away on a partially built one was just as futile as swimming. If he got off the island, it wouldn't be through obvious means. It would be through wit, as so much had been on this journey.

Sometimes, when he spoke to himself, his voice would startle him. It had been an eternity since he'd heard anything more than the gentle breeze over the waves, the etching of his stylus, and her voice- always her’s.

“You make beautiful maps,” Calypso told him one evening, sitting beside him near the campfire. “They look like little pieces of art.”

“...Mm,” he mumbled. His voice was terribly dry, and it was uncomfortable to speak. On certain days when he became horribly entranced with his work, he didn't remember to drink water.

Calypso held onto one of his creations in her hands. A map of the northwestern quadrant of the island, detailed with every major boulder and natural feature. “It's so… exact.”

“That one isn't, not yet,” Odysseus mumbled. His voice faltered, and he met it with a harsh cough.

Calypso frowned. Her eyes glowed, and she touched a hand to his neck. He took a breath, and the familiar dryness ceased.

“You need to remember to drink water, my love,” she tsked. She looked back down at the paper, squinting her eyes. “...How is it not finished yet? It's so well done.”

“It isn't at all to scale yet. I haven't measured the distances of any of this from the coast- or the cliffside. It's all approximated,” he explained. He shook his head. “Not to mention if the angles are even slightly off on my measurement of the perimeter…”

“Why do you labor so extensively for a map?” She questioned, shaking her head. “It isn't as though you find yourself lost here.”

“What else would you have me do, Calypso?” he asked her. The words were simple, but they gathered a heavy weight as they fell from his lips. He looked at her- haggered and hopeless. This was his final idea. His final hope.

She pursed her lips. Pity crossed her eyes. The appearance of it, anyways- he couldn't bring himself to believe it. He looked back down at his map. It didn't resemble anything, not yet, but it would eventually. It would if he got all of the measurements just right. He'd solve the puzzle. He'd find the way to escape.

-

He hadn't resisted her that evening. He hadn't fought, hadn't yelled. He rarely did anymore. It didn't matter either way. It always happened, no matter what he did, or tried to do. He found it easier to stare up, to let it pass by. Oftentimes, he was able to enter a dream-like state during the act. He would focus on the shimmering marble ceiling- become utterly lost in the shapes he swore he could trace out. Pigeons, and grape stems, and faces. He forgot how much time had passed, where he was, who he was. Gone, lost in the lifeless stone.

He didn't realize it was over until she spoke. Until her words, escalating in volume, forced him out of his stupor.

“Odysseus? Ody? Ody?” She was repeating, over and over, like a hum. It grew in his ear, a buzz, a perpetual buzz, until he found the strength to turn his head to the side. To look at her.

“What?” He croaked. His throat felt like it was being torn apart by flintrock.

“I just… wanted to say that- I'd let you go if I knew for certain that you'd come back. I swear I would. But there's no way for me to be sure of that.” Her fanciful words cascaded against the stone of the room and echoed. “...And I just can't stand the thought of letting you go. Of being alone again.”

He looked back in her dark eyes. They appeared black in the twilight. Black like Syclla’s. He felt nothing in response to her comment. He never did care for her excuses. Her reasoning never mattered to him, when the end was the same. Captivity. The island. Her sweat stuck on his body.

“...Is there any point in my begging you again?” he murmured. He sounded older than he had even a year ago.

“Ody…”

“I'll do it. You know I will.” He stared into her eyes. He had done it numerous times before. Pleaded with her on his knees. Begged like a coward.

“Odysseus, you should go to sleep, my love. You'll be tired tomorrow.”

His eyes returned to the ceiling. It had almost been an entire year. He shivered, though it wasn't cold.

-

Properly mapping out the positions and dimensions of features on the island proved to be exceedingly more difficult than simply measuring the perimeter. The unevenness of the land made his log measure roll and shift more often than not, resulting in agonizing re-measurements that took weeks to complete. The tides, though considerably more temperant than the ones found on any other island he'd been on, still changed to some degree. He realized only weeks later that that would've certainly messed up his already pre-established measurements. He would have to start over.

It took him months to fully develop a system to mitigate the problem. He cut down trees and refined them into posts. He dug holes around the entirety of the island- every three “logs” apart- and buried the posts inside of them, forming a makeshift grid. That would serve as the primary reference point for all other calculations.

Calypso didn't say very much more about his work. She followed him around every day, occasionally lending a helpful spell to assist him. When the rough bark of tree trunks tore open the blisters on his hands, she'd be there, golden-eyed and delicate, ready to heal it. Every morning and evening, she prepared him food, and throughout the day, she'd bring him water. He accepted the assistance, hoping that properly sustaining himself would enable him to be faster, smarter, more efficient.

It gave him a sense of purpose. Labor that easily filled up the daylight hours of each day. He gained more weight, more muscle. He cut his hair to keep it out of his way. It was a new way of life.

He stared down at one of his maps one evening after he'd finished supper. She'd made him some sort of stew to eat- though he hadn't paid any real attention to it. Rather, he was fixated on the newest development he'd wrapped up during the day.

“...What'll be next for your maps?” Calypso asked, watching his eyes travel over the papyrus. “...Now that you've finished the river?”

Odysseus didn't look up. His eyes scanned, searched- trying to decipher anything that he hadn't been able to piece together yet. The river had been finished today, which had been one of the most tedious pieces of the map. Several new units of measure had had to be created. Smaller pieces of wood were refined into “half logs” and “quarter logs”, allowing him more flexibility and accuracy. It reminded him of the tedious nature of designing and building his palace, but more prone to error given the imperfection of natural tools. The illustrated river would never be perfect, but he'd done his best to recreate the natural curvatures and fluctuations in it. He'd been hopeful that this was finally the solution to his problem- some answer, hidden in the twists and turns…

“Ody? Can you hear me?”

He was typically more successful at blocking out the drone of her voice, but now it merely distracted him. He looked up, hoping to satiate her with a response so that he could observe it in peace.

“...What're you going to add next?”

“...Trees,” he murmured. He wasn't sure what else to do. He'd already added the three large oaks in the northeastern quadrant, and he'd loosely sketched in where the island was the most densely populated with them.

“Don't you already have trees on there?” She pried, gesturing to one of his sketched forests.

“...I’ll count them. Get them all,” he decided softly. Nothing on his map stood out yet. It had to be a more complicated puzzle. Maybe the sum total of trees, or birds, or stars… Numbers converted into letters, condensed into words, a riddle…

“...That'll take you forever, my love,” Calypso replied carefully. Her eyes were wide and sympathetic, looking over his face. It reminded him of how his mother used to look at him when he was ill.

He ducked his head down to look back at the map, avoiding her eyes. She would never help him find the answer, of course. If anything, she'd lead him astray- waste more of his time. When he found the answer, it would be entirely through his own intellect.

“...Ody, you've done a brilliant job making these. You don't need to count every tree. You're driving yourself crazy, ” she said after a moment. She bent over, reaching for the stack of rolled papyrus that sat next to him. “...Why don't you come to bed? You must be tired. You aren't thinking clearly.”

He shivered. His eyes darted up at the sky. “It's not dark yet,” he mumbled, shaking his head rigidly. “Give me a little more time, and I'll go.” He squinted at the shape of the river. Perhaps a key shaped like the curve of the water. But how would he fasten a key without supplies? Where would such a key even go? Maybe he could ask her for metal- cut the design into it by hand. Or maybe it was the shape of the cliffside instead- it too resembled the uneven bending of a key edge…

He could feel her eyes, but he no longer cared. He merely looked at the map, trying to find whatever solution had to be sitting right in front of him.

-

Link to other chapters

[maurice-memes]

Welcome to Maurice Memes!

It's been 3 years, and I haven't made an intro post yet💀 Maybe it's time... this post is subject to change btw!

Who Am I?

For those who are already familiar with me, I'm most well-known in this fandom as Maurice Memes! But you can also call me who I actually am, AtomicStarCat (<-main blog link) (or Atomic)! I can go by anything you want me to, even Maurice's Funky Purple Socks!

I use any pronouns you want to use with me! Call me anything you'd like!

I'm currently 19 years old, but sometimes I still feel like I'm 12 *cry*

I am ace-aro, but I really love making friends!

I'm really bad at reaching out to others in this fandom and being consistent with liking posts, but I really love everyone here, and I'd love to know you better! If I'm not following your LotF blog, please let me know!! I'd love to see more content! I don't talk much, but I promise that if you reach out to me and talk to me, that would make me so happy!! I really want to become closer to everyone here! I'll do my best to appreciate you all better!

I'm kinda off and on in every fandom I'm in, so I'll post consistently for a while, then disappear for a while, but I'm never gone forever! This fandom means so much to me, I'd never forget it!

What Do I Like?

Lord of the Flies! Why else would I be here?

mostly children's media, like Digimon, Powerpuff Girls Z, Precure, and Legend of Zelda! But I won't post about that here^^

About My Art and Requests!

I'm an artist! I draw mostly on Notability, but I sometimes make finished pieces on Ibis or make sketches on Freeform!

I mostly sketch silly things and mini-comics, but I have done some character memes in the past and may do some in the future.

Requests: I will most likely take any and all LotF character/LotF ship requests! I can also draw your designs for the boys if you ask me! I'd love to see them!

I also look at trades for LotF characters, LotF ships, and OCs, just ask! (I always consider OC trades, but won't always accept)

I also have a dead Percival ask blog, @percivals-mailbox, but you can still send stuff in if you really want to!

About my LotF!

My active ships: Jack/Ralph, Roger/Simon, Maurice/Sam, Platonic Maurice+Piggy, Bill/Robert, Percival/Mulberry Boy, and Johnny/Wilfred!

I don't particularly dislike any ships as long as they're portrayed respectfully and healthily! Just don't ask me to draw something weird like a bigun/littlun ship😅

I headcanon Ralph and Mulberry Boy as brothers, and I post about them sometimes without context haha

I have one(1) AU called LotF Academy that's slice of life, which also includes gender bends of all the characters as separate entities in the same world! You can ask me to draw them together!

I don't post very often explicitly about my headcanons, but I will talk about them if asked!

Conclusion!

I only have a couple rules!

Respect me, yourself, and others on my page.

I don't support discrimination of any kind, incest, proship, basic DNI, etc., or endorse anything 18+ on my profile. I say endorse because I don't have problems with healthy 18+ content, just that it makes me uncomfortable as a sex-repulsed ace.

Do not use my fan art on any of my social media without clear, linked credit, and do not use any original art on my social media without explicit permission under any circumstances!

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Find me elsewhere! OC requests are always open on toyhou.se! I’m also on Art Fight!

atomicstarcat.carrd.co

Thank you for reading my long intro! I'm so happy you found your way here, and I hope you will continue to visit for years to come! I can't wait to meet you!