#my only solace is fanfiction

[betweenbreaths]

portgas d. ace is my dream man and i am in hell

[raphael-angele]

Solangelo Sleepover (feat Percy cuz it's his turn to babysit)

Nico: Hey, I found something

Percy: What is it?

Nico: Oh, just Will in a campus personality pageant

Percy: WHAT?!

Will: *tries to snatch away the tablet*

Percy: PLAY IT!

Tablet:

7 year old Will wearing a cowboy hat very sparkly gold tuxedo: Hi, I'm William Andrew Solace from Austin, Texas!

Nico, laughing: You look like neon yellow highlighter!!

Baby Will: And you should pick me for Mr Campus because *sings and dance* I am your sunshine. Your only sunshine. I make you happy when skies are grey. You'll never know dear how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away! *smiles*

Percy: PLAY IT AGAIN! PLAY IT AGAIN!!!

---

Nico, to Will: Why did you never tell us you were in beauty pageants?!

Will: Cuz it's embarrassing

Nico, laughing: It is, it really is

Will: Yeah, well, Percy writes Studio Ghibli fanfiction about himself and Annabeth and posts it on the internet

Nico: (º〇º) ... (⚆⩌⚆)...no..

Percy: WHY?! WHAT DID I DO?!

Will: I'm sorry, I had to get the spotlight off me and tearing down other people was part of my pageant training.

[charliedawn]

forgive me if I’m not explaining this concept properly as I am currently SOBBING MY EYES OUT FROM YOUR FANFICTION CHARLIE.

imagine that once all the slashers left when they were deemed sane they all accidentally moved to the same street or something and we got Slashers the Sitcom

this is the only thought I’ve had since reading that that didn’t make me cry so I felt you should have it

the Hannibal’s should be their creepy out of town tourists or new neighbors that get a one season spin off show.

You’re doing great with your writing Charlie 😁

(Here is my fluff apology. 😉)

The nights had become too quiet. The facility once teeming with chaos, tension, and the unnerving energy of its infamous inhabitants now felt empty. You tried to adjust, finding solace in your routine, but nothing could fill the void they had left behind. The slashers—your slashers—were gone.

You had heard whispers about where they went, rumors from the outside world about strange occurrences, but nothing solid. Sometimes, you found yourself wondering about each of them—what they were doing, if they were safe, or if they even thought about you.

Then one night, as you sat in your office, the silence was broken. A chill ran down your spine, the hairs on your neck standing on end as you sensed…something. The feeling was familiar, one you hadn’t felt since they had left, and it made your heart pound. But before you could make sense of it, the lights flickered and the door creaked open.

You blinked, frozen in place, as Freddy Krueger strolled in, his signature smirk plastered across his face. "Missed me, sweetheart ?"

Before you could respond, the room was suddenly filled with more faces—Bo, Jason, Pennywise, Brahms, and the rest of the slashers, all filing in like they had never left. All the slashers you had helped during your career. All the friends you had made along the way. They could barely fit all inside the room and you were suddenly surrounded.

"Boys, boys, give ‘em some space !" Bo barked, pushing through the group. "Can’t just barge in like that !" His gruff voice carried the same Southern twang, but his eyes were softer than you remembered.

"What…What’s going on ?" you managed to choke out, your mind spinning as you looked at each of them. "Why are you all here ?"

Freddy chuckled, running his claw along the edge of your desk. "We missed ya, Nurse Y/N. Couldn’t leave ya in this dump, could we ?" His grin widened as the others nodded in agreement, some more subtly than others. "So we decided…why not kidnap ya ?"

Jason, standing silently at the back of the room, shifted uncomfortably, but even he nodded, his masked face giving you a reassuring glance.

You were dumbfounded.

"You’re not serious…"

Brahms stepped forward, his voice soft and pleading. "We didn’t want you to be lonely…You took care of us. Now we’ll take care of you." He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm before he held your hand.

Before you could react further, Penny popped up beside you, his grin sharp and wide. "Guess what, Nurse Y/N ? We’ve all decided to move to Elm Street !" His voice was filled with manic glee, and he leaned in closer. "And you’re coming with us."

Your eyes widened.

Elm Street ? What was that ?

Freddy’s chuckle darkened. "Oh yeah, baby. We’ve got the perfect place for you, right in the middle of our little setup." He leaned closer, his claw resting lightly against your cheek. "You’re gonna love it. It’s got that…cozy, homicidal feel to it. With spiderwebs and we spent weeks painting the walls. Yer gonna love it, I tell ya !"

"Come on, darlin'," Bo added, crossing his arms. "Ain’t no point stayin’ in this dead place when you could be livin’ with us. We got a home now. Together."

Your heart raced. This was too much. How ? When ? What ? "But why—why would you want me to live with you all ? I thought you’d…want your freedom."

Michael stepped forward then, towering over the others. He didn’t speak, of course, but the way he placed his hand on your shoulder told you everything you needed to know. You were part of their family now, and they weren’t going to leave you behind.

"You gave us freedom, sweetheart," Freddy purred, his voice softer now. "But what’s freedom without a little fun ? And we all know you’re the one who kept us in line. Plus, we’ve kinda grown attached. I MEAN BORED ! Yeah. Bored. ‘Cause ya know…we slashers feel bored when we ain’t got ya around to mess with and shit…"

Bo raised an eyebrow and smirked at Freddy before elbowing him playfully.

"Nice save, dumbass."

Freddy flipped him off in response while you tried to make sense of everything.

Brahms clung to your side, his eyes wide and desperate. "Don’t make us go without you again…please."

You felt a wave of warmth rush over you, despite the absurdity of it all. These killers, these monsters who had tormented so many, had come back for you. Not out of revenge, not to pull you into some twisted nightmare, but because they genuinely wanted you with them.

You swallowed hard, trying to process it all. "So…you really all want me to move to Elm Street ? With you ?"

Freddy grinned, slapping Jason on the back. "Told ya they’d come around."

Bo sighed, rolling his eyes. "We ain’t askin’, darlin’. We’re tellin’ ya. Yer comin’ with us. Now, move that cute butt up yer chair and let’s go."

Pennywise chuckled. "We already packed your things, Nursey." He gestured dramatically to the doorway, where your bags were already neatly stacked.

You blinked, completely dumbfounded, before a small laugh escaped your lips. This was crazy. You were crazy. "You packed my things ? But…what about the staff ? What about the board ?"

Jack smirked before giving you a paper which wrote that the board had been warned and that since there were no more patients inside the hospital, you and the staff should move in Elm Street to keep an eye on the slashers.

"All taken care of, sweet cheeks."

Your eyes widened and they filled with tears.

They must have spent weeks to get that authorisation and convince the board. You looked up at them and Patricia smiled before wiping your tears with her thumbs.

"Now now, dear. Don’t cry. It’s okay. We were not going to abandon you. Not when you never abandoned us."

"But how did you…How did you even plan for all this ? How did you…?" You were at a loss for words.

Freddy shrugged and playfully winked at you. "What can I say ? We’re thoughtful that way."

In that moment, you realized there was no point in arguing. This strange, dysfunctional group had wormed their way into your life, into your heart. And now, they were offering you a place with them—a very surprising tempting offer that you knew you had no choice but to accept. Not because you didn’t have a choice, but because you genuinely wanted to.

"Alright," you sighed, smiling softly. "I’ll come with you."

The room erupted into cheers—well, as much as this group of killers could cheer. Freddy whooped, Bo grinned, and even Jason’s eyes sparkled with something close to contentment. Brahms hugged you tightly, and Pennywise cackled in delight.

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite everything. Maybe Elm Street wasn’t the safest place in the world, but with them…it didn’t seem so bad. And as you stepped outside the facility for the last time, surrounded by your unlikely family, you realized you weren’t going to miss the quiet anymore.

You were going home…

"WELCOME TO ELM STREET, BABY !"

[lestatdelivncvurt]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Even for someone like him, love is inevitable. When night fell, he seeks you out as he always does.

fanfiction | House of the Dragon

In the hushed corridors of the castle, where shadows danced with the cold embrace of night, only the flickering torches dared to defy the darkness, casting a warm glow upon the stone walls and his embrace.

As the night descended into a tranquil stillness, free from prying eyes and whispered rumors, he sought you out in your chamber, a ritual unchanged.

Seated upon a chair, you traced the silver strands cascading over your shoulders, the fabric of your gown draped loosely around your delicate form. The touch of those strands between your fingers felt as soft as a whispered promise. The creak of the door announced his arrival, and without needing to turn, you knew it was him.

"I see you adorn the necklace I had given to you," he murmured, closing the door with a gentle hand before drawing near, his presence a comforting weight behind you. Leaning in, he rested his chin upon your shoulder, breathing in deeply the intoxicating fragrance that stirred his desires. His hands found solace at your waist.

Gazing at him through the looking glass, a soft smile graced your lips. "Why would I not wear such a precious gift from you?" you replied with a warmth that matched the flickering torchlight. His gifts were treasures you held dear, symbols of his affection that you cherished. Your eyes met his reflection in the mirror, admiring the striking beauty illuminated by the dancing flames. He was beautiful.

Daemon pressed a tender kiss upon your shoulder, a silent claim of ownership. A moment of silence enveloped you both before he broke the silence with words. "You remain as resplendent as ever, my beloved," he whispered, planting a gentle kiss upon your cheek as his gaze lingered on your reflection.

A goddess in his eyes.

"Your father is a fool for not wedding us together," he says softly, a hint of annoyance coloring his voice. "I would shower you with adoration and love you beyond measure, far more than any lord could. He is blind to not notice it." He clicked his tongue, and the fire inside him stirred. "Nonetheless, you are mine, are you not?" With a tender touch, he lifted your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his own. "Are you?"

In that moment, your gaze ablaze with the fervor of love, you answered, "I am yours."

[ddreamywitch]

WHO WE ARE - prologue

knight!benjicot blackwood x princess!reader

word count: 400

a/n: I suppose today is as good a day as any to randomly pick up fanfiction writing after spending the last six or so years in retirement. This will be a longer series (I hope). God bless Benjicot/Davos Blackwood, you will always be famous <3

song: Who we are - Hozier

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

Once upon a time…

In a kingdom claimed to be the sun’s favourite, there lived a beautiful princess renowned for her grace and wit. Her laughter was the music of the court, her kindness a pillar of hope to the kingdom.

And yet despite the splendor surrounding her, the heroine of our tale often felt a void in her heart, a longing for something unknown.

Not far from the castle in which she resided, in the lush green fields of the Riverlands, lived a young man with his uncle. His life was nothing short of a noble scandal, his days filled with ceaseless fighting and battling. Early on the young man was rewarded a nickname, one suitable to his reputation. ´Bloody Ben´, they called him.

His uncle, a shrewd and cunning man, saw an opportunity when the king announced a search for a new knight to protect the princess.

Desperate to rid himself of the liability he perceived his nephew to be, the uncle struck a deal with the king. "Take my nephew," he proposed. "He is strong and loyal. Make him the princess's knight, and he will serve you well."

Reluctantly, the young man found himself clad in armor, standing before the king and princess during a first meeting that was nothing short of catastrophic.

The princess thought him to be rude and dishonorable, nowhere near worthy of the title of knight, let alone hers. He, in turn, viewed her as a pampered royal, far removed from the realities of life, a spoiled brat.

Days turned into weeks, and the young man fulfilled his duties with quiet determination. He protected the princess, shadowing her every step, though they spoke little and often clashed in their few interactions. He resented the life thrust upon him, while she longed for the companionship of someone who saw beyond her royal façade.

But as fate will have it, her knight was called to action and as a surprise to all but mostly to themselves, something bloomed between them, when they faced the wretched twisted surprises this mortal life does so like to challenge us with. Something bloomed which was far removed from the original mutual hatred.

As seasons changed, so did their hearts. The princess and the knight found solace in each other’s company, their affection growing with each shared moment. Yet, their love was shadowed by the harsh reality of their stations. A princess and a knight were not destined to be together.

Now this shall only be the prologue to a tale yet to be written, the pages of their star crossed story, awaiting the hand that would decide their ending.

[nekovmancer]

Hello, I was wondering if you could make zenyatta and ramattra with Cyborg!Reader like genji, but their body glows if they have too much energy.

overwatch headcanons: cyborg!reader with Ramattra and Zenyatta

warnings: mentions of violence, trauma and such, a bit platonic and… ye, pretty much fine, nothing graphic

a/n: my love for Zen is 100% dear and platonic yet- well, you guys know. RAMATTRA!!! 

will do them separately in the present game timeline and then together back in the monastery and… it’s past midnight here, my eyelids are heavy, but there’s no sleep in between me and writing fanfiction so, sowy for the mistakes ahead, I will correct them tomorrow!! anxiety kept me awake and obligated me to post as soon as I’ve finished, you know

btw!! thanks for requesting. I love to write it and I hope you also enjoy. (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

OPEN FOR HEADCANON REQUESTS! Send yours here, but read rules first

Ramattra

A Ravager was responsible for your body’s destruction, so it’s only natural you’re shaking on its presence

Back when it happened, omnics were still under Anubis’ control, so it’s not like you blame him or any other R-7000 for their doings

Still, you got these chills running down your spine now that you stand face to face to Null Sector’s infamous leader

But the thrill is even stronger when he proves all your believes to be wrong, being to one to extend a helping hand to prevent your body to overheat

As Genji, your parts were substituted with cybernetics: flesh, muscle and metal bounding into one thing to keep your alive

Though, you weren’t lucky to be shaped by doctor Ziegler’s careful hands, which lead to several problems, including the overheating itself, caused by your frenetic running while trying to escape Toronto during the Invasion

Ramattra saw you and couldn’t help but be… fascinated 

You were not an omnic, so his helmets were useless, still you’re shaped in metal, no sight of skin showing. A human, without humanity’s resemblance 

He caught your heartbeats, their rhythm more and more violent, growing exponentially as the glow from your cybernetics, a flashing red of warning

He’s so intrigued he founds himself kneeling in front of you, one hand reaching out while you press your back to the wall behind you; no way to run out of this

“Hush now. If I was to hurt you, why the ceremony?” 

His words had logic, true, but fear was devouring you

The last time you were this close to a Ravager was the last time you still had much of your organic body parts

“I may be of help, if you let me” 

What choice did you have anyway? If he didn’t kill you, your body would do the job alone 

 Ramattra escorts you to safety, and ironically it means the very ships vomiting killing robots a while ago

You stay in his workshop as it takes little time for him to figure out how to cool down your body, and the glow is long gone by the time he’s done

“Not an omnic, yet not fully human…  where do you find a place for one as yourself in this doomed world?”

Here’s the thing: you don’t

That’s why you accept his offer to stay, despite all of your fears

In the end, the hands who once destroyed you were the same who saved you from death

Zenyatta

Omnics and humans coexisting peacefully was a metaphor to your own state: both human and machine sharing the same body, trying to not repel one another

A heart of flesh habitating a chest of metal, you tiptoed the lines between the two worlds, but you didn’t felt as part of any of them

Still, you find solace in the words of a monk by the name of Mondatta. He spoke of hope and understandment, of peace above the conflict. Without even knowing, he brought balance to your turmoil; past and present

But hope was a dangerous thing for the ones like you, if there was anyone else sharing the burden of a dreadful existence as yours

And you’re quick out of reasons since Mondatta’s death

You weren’t welcome among the omnics, and humans saw you as a freak. Any chance of normality was eradicated 

As a last act of faith, you did Aurora’s peregrination to Shambali. You didn’t know what to expect, but surely the villagers near the monastery left a very bad impression

Along with the exhaustion, you entered the sacred halls with your cybernetics glowing red, a flash of the eminent chaos that would erupt if you’re not stabilized quickly enough

A monk comes to your aid, and by staring at his faceplate alone you can feel something different stirring within you. A long lost calmness tossing your circuits errors aside

You wouldn’t forget his name not even in a million lifetimes: Zenyatta, the one who offered you a place to rest after your journey, and the very first to be interest in you

His genuine interest, plus the care, was touching. No one ever did anything similar to you, not after Talon decided you could still be a soldier even without most of your body

Which led to you running away, not soon enough to prevent Doctor O'Deorain  from damaging your body though. Another monster carefully constructed to be Talon’s pawn, no matter how much pain came from it

But you’ve already paid the price for your mistakes, and one thing is for sure: you’re no monster

Among the monks, you could feel that familiar peaceful feeling lingering under your skin, resonating through the circuits of your cybernetics

For once, you did not felt cast aside, most thankful to Tekhartha Zenyatta

His harmony orbs helped to regain a balance you thought to be long lost, and not only: the chaos within you, something you tried to ignore, was embraced as it should be also cherished 

“No living being is completely pure, nor completely evil. We’re both our strengths and flaws: to deny one existence in detriment of other is to deny yourself.”

Even the worst of you was forgiven; by him first, and you last. Where you felt shame for your wrongdoings, Zenyatta pathed a lesson that erased your doubts

Through meditation, you found not only peace with your inner self, but with the world surrounding you

The balance of energy through your body presented you with a new glowing: not the crimson red of tiredness and rage, but a warm yellow that irradiates warm as a small sun; the energy of the Iris found you

“My dear friend, I bathe in the light of your soul. May it keep us sheltered during the dark times ahead of us.”

Ramattra & Zenyatta

When the brothers found you, they first thought you were an omnic

Judging by the people screaming around you, tossing stones, displaying the worst of their violence and, of course, the fact your whole constitution was pure metal

It’s only when they take you to the monastery that they knowledge the other side of your face, the one that’s still flesh 

No questions were asked, but none of them are naive. Being a cyborg meant something, and this something tiptoed around the lines of violence

And despite it all, cyborgs are quite rare. Especially ones glowing as you did, with your joints pulsating with energy

It was easy to distinguish your humor by the light radiating from your body: usually soft, it could be oversaturated when your humor reached peaks, transiting through a rainbow of colors depending on what you had in your mind

At first, a light tone of red flashed whenever they approached. Despite being your saviors, you still felt a bit of distrustfulness towards them

Humans saw you as an aberration, and you did not have too much time with sentient omnics to put their behavior to test. Not that you felt inclined to do so. To deal with humanity’s rejection was enough

Zenyatta was patient, but Ramattra… no metal in this world could undo the fact you were a human. And he also had his share with humanity to know how incredible terrible they can be 

That’s why, maybe, it’s easy for you to approach him 

Ramattra resented humanity, despite his best efforts to find harmony through his want for peace and his desire for revenge. Not that you had the guts to do anything but lament over your own dismay, but… you could relate

Zenyatta, on the other hand, touched your deepest cravings for being a better person, standing above those who abused you. You did not wished for violence, despite your rage: to be comprehended was your key 

And both of them did it, in their own way

Through your days in Shambali, you felt part of their brotherhood. Not exactly as such, but… cherished. Each of them bonded with you in their own unique way, understanding your pains, your dreams, your wants. Piece by piece, the three of you found a way together

Now, whenever you meditate with Ramattra, concentrating the energy flow in your body, a glowing purple flashed through your cybernetics. But with Zenyatta, a deep golden color showed itself

And that’s why you could never choose. Your love for them was measured equally: if cut in half, one part would still be of Ramattra, and the other would belong to Zenyatta

So when Ramattra leaves from Shambali, and both you and Zenyatta decline his offer to follow his path off the Monastery, there’s no way from you in the opposites side, but through the middle-term

You still dream of the day you three will meet again. For the good or for the bad, you missed them for a lifetime, and to be separated brings up this feeling all over again

Now, whenever you concentrate your energy, it’s grayish: devoid of color, deepness and light

[alexjcrowley]

Yesterday night I felt sick with my stomach and stayed awake all night making audio recordings to my best friend about watching Quantum of Solace for the first time (I am still finishing it) and then I started randomly talking about 00q and accidentally opened up the Pandora Box of my memories but I instantly remembered everything I ever knew about 00q like when it got adopted by the BBC Sherlock fandom or the Paddington is the new Quartermaster stuff or when everybody was obsessed with the fucking Téméraire and it was EVERYWHERE and everybody made the joke "It's a ship!!!" and the age difference discourse between James and Q and Q being called Quentin and Mycroft and Sherlock being Q older brothers and disapproving of his relationship with James Bond and the fucking tea mugs and so many cats and everybody talking about Q's jumpers and making up OC minions for him and every fanfiction in which James retires to be with Q because he was the only one he ever loved aside from Vesper and Q feeling insecure because of her and all then Madeleine Sawnn came along and everybody was distraught even though the flirting was there in Spectre and we were all distraught because we could have had it all and so many fix it fics so many fics about James cosntantly loosing his gadgets and how hard it was for Q to watch him seduce other people and everybody was saying they were grumpy x sunshine/black cat x Golden retriver coded BUT THEY WERE NOT ACTUALLY in my humble opinion but they were easily flustered x flirting menace and Q had such salty one-liners and everybody believed he was a posh boy and do you remember when years later you had the same museum scene with Hannibal it was clearly a parallel and then there was No Time To Die and Q was officially queer oh my God oh my fucking God it was CANON he TOTALLY CANONICALLY MUST HAVE HAD A CRUSH ON BOND and we saw THE CATS and WHO WAS Q WAITING FOR?????? James must have been jealous but then the movie was what it was and a lot of people hated it and all of the fix it fics in which Bond said his last words to Q because it was always Q it will always be Q and also everybody making up names for him names were such a huge deal Q revealing his name to James in his last moments grieving fics in which James died but you also had silly ones and spicy ones uhhh a lot of those because sometimes you just need to ignore canon and see them happy and maybe both retiring or maybe they kept working flirting over the comms and annoying everyone at MI6 which wasn't exactly Avengers "Everybody Lives in The Tower" au but it was close they weren't a found family per se but some of them were very close there used to be edits on youtube yeah before TikTok came along youtube edits were A ThingTM with all those retrica-looking filters and pop songs or sad love songs and fake trailers who remembers those or like scenes edited to look like they were from a romcom and comments on the scenes written in small usually white text that were meant to reflect the character inner thoughts like "That's hot" or "He's so annoying I need to kiss him" or "BITCH" and fics in which Q was kidnapped and James went berserk and a few years ago Knives Out came out and we tried to to have Bond and Benoit Blanc related do you also remember that?

[shuenkio]

❄️ | 𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑶 𝑴𝒀 𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑮 ⃘᰷᰷ᰰ❤︎

- (pauce requests)

[SENSITIVE CONTENT, DON'T LIKE DON'T PRESS MDNI ]

⃘᰷᰷ᰰ❤︎ Main: 𝗘𝗡𝗛𝗬𝗣𝗘𝗡 ✧* ‧͙⁺˚*•*˚⁺⠀

͏ ͏𝜗𝜚 Cw: Sfw & Nsfw

𝜗𝜚 Pronounce: He/they

𝜗𝜚 Mostly Active: Night 🌃

𝜗𝜚 Enha X btt Male!reader AMAB [only]

𝜗𝜚 WARNING: Nothing is real ×2 [Fanfiction]

⚠️ English is not my first language, some parts might be wrong gram&words. I'm only write for male!reader only because I'm comfortable with it, feel free to leave if don't like!

Works 🪽

⬇️⬇️⬇️

[S: smut, F: fluff, A: angst, SG: suggestive]

성훈: PSH 🐧

fireworks [F-SUNGHOON]

His dark side [S-SUNGHOON]

Kissing I hope they catch us [F-Sunghoon]

WET FROM THE DREAM [SG-SUNGHOON]

Give me your forever [f-Sunghoon]

Brought the heat back [S]

Birthday present [f]

Halloween's Love [S]

희승: LHS 🦌

Revenge lesson [S-HEESEUNG]

Honeymoon [S-Heeseung]

Fake black cat [F-HEESEUNG]

Dirty boy [S-Hee]

Making you Jelly [S]

Juno[f]

That basketball player [S]

제이: 🐈‍⬛

Flame drink [S-JAY]

Forgiveness [A-JAY]

Rewrite the stars [A]

Glass of water [S]

제이크: 🦮

Scream of love [S-JAKE]

You never know [f-JAKE]

Naughty neighbor [S-JAKE]

Freaky [S]

IWALY [S]

Love, maybe? [F]

정원: 🐈

Secret gift [S-JUNGWON]

My solace [F-jungwon]

Hide and Seek[S-JUNGWON]

Cat hit puberty [S]

Pretty please [F]

Camboy [sg/s]

선우: 🦊

Your curiosity [sg-sunoo]

Misunderstood [F-SUNOO]

Second mask [SG]

I'm yours isn't [S]

Mid night w’you [sg/s]

니키: 🐆

In the sauna [sg-ni-ki]

I only need you [f-ni-ki]

Choose me only [f-niki]

Crazy stupid love [a]

[OT7 x m!reader]

A first date with enha

pov-youre the maknae in enhypen

Prank enhypen you like them

Tsundere-enhypen

Red string with enhypen

Maknae-is-sick

A day in enhypen

Youtiful

Enha as your older brother

Crazy over you

Accidentally

Break up ?

Temporary Leader

Admire not from afar

[fandom-lover2]

More Than Meets The Optic

Ultra Magnus learns he stans non-binary rights

Word Count - 1827

Author's Note: I wrote this for my platonic soulmate after they came out to their parents as non-binary and was not supported. @quilbug, reality may suck, but in my world you are unbelievably loved and supported. Thank you for the permission to post this. Luv ya

My head bopped up and down in time with the beat, my eyes sliding across the words of my laptop screen.

Man’s invention of fanfiction can be dated back to the 18th century, and provided endless hours of entertainment while also creating a person’s own impression of the source material and building on it.

I spent hours lost in the worlds of my favorite characters, amazed at the creativity of people as they made new storylines, and did away with events in the canon they did not like.

Ratchet barked out an order to Miko, pleading with her to turn the music down as a louder song filtered through the speaker she had placed on top of the TV. Miko sassed the medic back, something about appealing to the masses.

“Miko…” I called out, drawing out her name and dropping an octave. A clear warning.

She let out a wailing groan, but did as she was told and the music diminished in volume.

“Thank you.” Ratchet sighed, turning back to his station. I tossed him a thumbs up without looking away from the screen.

God this story was beautiful, and funny. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and my chest felt warm and bubbly. These happy fics, slice of life stories of the characters the shows and movies don’t get to bring to life made the characters seem so much more real, like they’re somebody you actually know and can converse with. That being said, when the story ended, or the author decided to stop writing, it felt like you mourned characters as if they were real people, because you never get the chance to see new events happen with them again.

I had just finished one chapter and was ready to start the next when my name was called, by someone I never expected.

I spun in my chair, looking up to meet Ultra Magnus’ optics. He was frowning, and shifted on his peds.

“May I speak with you? Alone?”

My eyebrows shot up. Without thinking, I turned to look at Optimus. Whether to get his approval or check if I’d heard his lieutenant correctly, I was met with his version of curiosity. Still, my guardian looked down at me and nodded.

“Uhh, yeah. Sure.” I gently closed my laptop and stood, walking towards the steps.

Ultra Magnus interrupted my journey, holding out a servo in front of me. Ok, this was getting stranger with every second.

I accepted his servo, sitting stiffly as he began walking down the hall.

The big guy never carried us humans, didn’t want to be anywhere near us. Till Optimus paired him with Merling. They were the only one of us “natives” he tolerated. They had their spot, nestled between his neck and that weird shoulder situation he had going on. And Merling loved him, kindred spirits finding solace in one another.

It was funny in the beginning, because both Merling and Magnus had been confused at how Optimus and I would go for patrols and get so lost in our conversation that we’d just end up parked somewhere talking, all sense of time leaving us. Now, since Optimus had spoken to his lieutenant and explained how things were different, Magnus actually slowed down, stopped expecting something bad to happen every second and he and Merling had started spending extended periods of time together as well. Merling was finally allowed to join him on patrols, and at the base (once reports had been completed of course), they would find somewhere to sit together, spending time in one another’s company.

To have him willingly wanting to converse with me, which hadn’t occurred often since our less than friendly meeting, and carrying a human that wasn’t his charge, it was a big deal. Something serious must be going on.

Magnus carried me into the empty hanger in the base and deposited me on one of the catwalks, then took a few steps back. I waited, watching him as he dropped his helm.  His optics were darting side to side, a quirk I’d learnt meant he was thinking. A minute later and nothing had changed.

“Everything ok?” I realized I probably needed to start this conversation.

“Everything is… well.” he said, hesitantly. And that was all he gave me, still looking down.

“Okaayyy.” I pierced my lips. “What did you want to talk about?”

He looked up at me briefly, unsure. I was so used to seeing him frown, always agitated by something, but this was more innocent, like he didn’t know what to feel.

“I have a question, regarding the one you share a namesake with.”

‘Quil.’ I silently wished I could correct. Merling hadn’t spoken to anyone at the base about their self-discovery yet. And I’d promised to keep it under wraps until they were ready for everyone to know.

“Ok.” I prompted.

His frown deepened, and he was still looking down.

“We were conversing while I took her home and she-”

He stopped suddenly, his expression turning into a scowl, and I swear I heard him growl softly.

“They,” he corrected, “told me they no longer felt content with previously used ‘pronouns’ or the name you share.”

Finally, he looked up at me. He shifted his weight again, servos twitching, like he was unsure what to do with them.

“Can you explain to me what this means?”

I couldn’t stop the smile that broke across my face, and my chest felt all warm and fuzzy again. This was the cutest thing, and the most caring thing, I’d ever seen the grumpy guy do. He wanted to learn.

“Firstly, thank you for coming to me to ask. It shows you really care, and that’s sweet. Secondly, I’m happy to answer any questions you have. Don’t feel silly for asking.”

He relaxed at my words, shoulders sagging just a smidge as the tension left his faceplates.

“Ok, to start. As you know, humans are often divided into two genders, male and female.”

Magnus nodded.

“Well, that can refer to what a person feels they are, and what they are biologically. For example, I am female, a woman. I was born a woman, have a body typical of that of a woman, and view myself as a woman. Jack is a male, was born a male and feels he is a man.”

Magnus nodded again.

“Now, some people aren’t happy with the gender they are born with, feel as though that is not who they are inside. In their souls.”

He frowned, helm cocking to the side slightly. It reminded me of what dogs do, and I really had to fight a laugh.

“They are not content in their own forms?” he reiterated.

I shook my head. “No. So what some people do, what doctors have developed, is a way for a person to change their gender.”

This caused him to look even more bewildered.

“Doctors can give people artificial hormones, and perform surgeries that allow the person to change into the gender they feel they are.”

“We did not have such things on Cybertron.” Magnus spoke, eyes shifting again. “Who you were forged as is who you were.”

I smiled at him, watching as he tried to comprehend what I was saying to him.

“So…” he trailed off, trying to find the word. He looked at me pleadingly.

“Quil?” I supplied.

“Quil,” he nodded. “Quil wishes to become a male?”

“No.” This caused him to look at me in exasperation.

“You just said-”

“I said in some cases.” I corrected. “Quil feels differently. They feel as though they are neither male, nor female. Man, nor woman.”

He stared at me blankly for a few moments, then blinked and continued to stare.

“Does that make some sense?”

“What can be done to make… make them feel content?”

I smiled again. “Well, for starters, doing what you just did. Calling them by a gender-neutral pronoun, so them/they, will make them feel as though you respect them, and support their decision.”

“And medical assistance?” he pushed, taking a step closer to me urgently.

“That’s their decision. They may choose to have a surgery to make them appear less feminine, or can use a binder, which they have already.”

He looked down again, silently taking in all I had told him.

Cybertronians already make so much more noise than humans, the sounds of their internal fans causing a constant hum to emanate from them. Now, even though it shouldn’t be possible, I could imagine hearing the sounds of gearing turning as he tossed around the words I had spoken in his processor.

“So, why ask to be called Quil, as well as ‘gender-neutral pronouns’, as you said?”

I paused, trying the find the best way to approach this.

“Kristin was the name they had when they were a girl. But they’re no longer a female, and that name is who they were, and so they need a new name for who they are now.”

Magnus nodded absentmindedly, still thinking hard.

“And who else knows? Because the other children do not refer to them by Quil.”

I nodded in agreement. “Humans can be… weird and intolerable at times. Many people won’t be happy or accepting that they have changed their pronouns and name. People will start to see them differently, but not in a good way.”

“And you think that others will treat them this way?” he asked. It was said harshly, almost like he was accusing them of it already. He was getting upset that someone might not accept Merling, treat them harshly. He was getting protective.

I bit back the smirk that played on my lips.

“I don’t think anyone here will, but Quil needs to make that decision. Who they trust to know this, who they want to tell. For now, it’s just us. When they are more comfortable, they’ll tell others.”

Magnus remained silent, contemplating again.

“Does this all make sense?”

He hesitated before speaking, “This would not of been accepted on Cybertron, and I have never heard of such feelings among my kind, but I understand what you have told.” He paused. “And I will try to refer to Quil as they wish.”

“That’s amazing.” I praised. “If you have any more questions, please come to me.”

“I will.” Magnus nodded once, then took a step back. “Thank you for your assistance.”

Then, he turned and began walking out the hanger, leaving me behind on the only catwalk that didn’t have stairs connecting it to the rest.

By the time I realized, he was already turning into the hallway.

So, maybe he wasn’t progressing too far in his understanding of humans, or his tolerance of us. And yeah, it was taking him time to adjust to how we’d changed the base and dynamic of the team. But no one could ever say he didn’t have the capacity to want to change and learn, he just chose who he’d do it for.

[juliewillruinu]

Garden of Forbidden Melodies | 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆 | Sukuna x oc

Tw: This fanfiction will contain mature content such as smut, violence, blood, and death. There will be sensitive topics that might make many uncomfortable, so there will always be warnings at the beginning of each chapter. You have been warned. Enjoy ♡ -J.B

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ, ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ, ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ...

Prologue

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝘂𝗻 dipped low on the horizon, casting warm hues across the newly tended garden—a fantastical bloom of color and fragrance, just for her. I leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree. My crimson eyes fixed on Hanabana as she sat on a stone bench, and her back turned to me. The soft wail of the biwa began to weave through the evening air, notes spiraling like silk threads.

She’s beautiful, even in her solitude. The way her fingers dance across the strings as if coaxing the world into a calmer state. How foolish the villagers were to think they could cast her aside. They claimed to fear her power, but their ignorance is truly terrifying.

Her melodies wrap around me like tendrils of smoke, pulling me away from the chaos that constantly churns within me. I should despise humanity—they are nothing but insects in my eyes, crawling about in their filth. But her... she’s different. She sings for me in ways I thought only the dead could hear. She doesn't fear my darkness; she invites it. Perhaps that’s why I linger here, darkly entranced by her beauty. It’s maddening.

Something stirs, deep in the void I thought was hollow. Is this what they call love? An attachment? It feels more primitive than that—a primal need. I want to possess her. Oh yes, it’s more than a desire; it’s a relentless hunger. To make her solely mine, to claim her spirit like I’ve claimed so much else in this cursed world.

What a paradox—this girl, this sorceress, protecting her village from the evils I embody, yet standing unyielding before my wickedness. An undeniable draw, though the depths of my heart have long since turned to stone. How amusing! I, the King of Curses, find solace in the presence of one who yearns for innocence. Such a fragile thing, yet she bears the strength to repel the invaders of the spirit world, like me.

Let her gaze linger longer at these flowers. They bend and twist in ways even I can not control their vibrant colors intended for her eyes alone. All these blossoms, nurtured by my hand, are but a mere fraction of what I would do for her. She deserves the world, but it's not something she seeks, so for now, these petals in the garden are all she allows me to give.

Soon, I’ll capture her gaze. She will see the man behind the monster, the protector hidden within the curse. I shall embrace her, entwine our spirits as one. What a juxtaposition we present—a songbird and a demon. The villagers will never understand, nor will they accept us.

Hanabana, don’t look back just yet. Let the evening dance through your hair a little longer. Let me bask in this moment before the cruel world reminds us both that such beauty can’t last.

But then the sweet contentment broke like glass underfoot, shattered by fate’s cruel hand.

The beauty turned to me. Once her deep brown eyes met mine, a warm smile stretched across her face. Yes, smile more. I won’t let anyone enjoy that look on your face. It belongs to me and me alone. Smile only for me, my songbird.

"Welcome home, Sukuna."

Now I understand—home is where you are. Come, let me embrace you. Let me hold what belongs to me. Melt in my grasp. Squirm, cry, laugh, and moan underneath me. I don’t care what you choose to do or if you choose to do them all. Just do it all for me. For we shall never part.

Not ever.

The beauty placed her instrument down before standing up and began to walk towards me. She was careful for her sandal to not crush the flowers and to remain on the stone path. Her figure is alluring. It's something only I've ever seen. As it should be. She seduces me with the way she pushes her hair to the side, revealing part of her neck. Her eyes are gleaming with excitement, and her pace quickens the closer she gets to me. Once she's in front of me, my hand wraps around her waist and arms wrap around my neck. Her eyes fluttered close, and her face came close to mine. Her lips must have been cold without mine.

Ah, I shall devour this woman slowly.

Special thanks to @sweetlandspos for allowing me to use her art for the cover of my book. You can also read it on Wattpad. My account is apocalypsesupremacy.

[sunflowergraves]

Unpacking Will Solace’s Character

I’ve seen a lot of Will Solace hate since TSATS and it’s really starting to bother me. As a person that relates heavily to Will’s character, it’s upsetting to see him get bashed across the internet, especially considering we’ve never actually gotten to know his character. Personally, I feel like a lot of people are basing his character around headcanons and fanfiction (which I am guilty of) and were disappointed when he wasn’t who we saw him as. 

It doesn’t help that the only time we got to see Will’s POV it was short and through the eyes of others. He’s also not this big hero like all the characters in the PJO universe. His powers aren’t that strong, he’s not a prophecy child, and his talents are mediocre. Will is the most human demigod we’ve ever been introduced to. I can understand why his character doesn’t feel multi-dimensional compared to everyone else, but in my opinion, he was fleshed out very well. 

Yes, there are a few things I was disappointed by. I wish they talked about Will’s past more and his grief over his dead siblings. I wanted him to have his own weapon, even if it was an old bow he never used or a lyre like Apollo used in TOA. But I will always love that they changed him from the calm, collected counselor healer to an anxious, depressed, self-doubting person because it fits him so well. How could he not feel these things after losing friends and family? After being abandoned by everyone around him? Or being forced to take on the caretaker role of the entire camp because he was the only one left? 

I’m going to continue this down below, so if you don’t want major spoilers for TSATS, don’t continue reading. Also this is long as hell in case you just want to skim. 

Every time Will was mentioned in the books, it was from someone else’s POV and it was a few lines at best. 

Will has always been described as the cool, relaxed, go-with-the-flow type of guy. He was the person with a level head and knew exactly what to do. But guess what? Underneath that cool exterior was an anxiety riddled people pleaser who threw himself at every problem because that’s what he was told to do. The Apollo cabin was always the head medic team. After Lee and Michael died, Will was basically thrust into that position of power. He was trusted to take care of his younger siblings, trusted to take care of the entire camp. If he let them down, it was going to cost lives. Of course he’s going to be scared and nervous, but he can’t show that. Would you want a doctor with shaky hands and sweat running down their neck? Would you want to be taken care of by a person who doubted and second guessed themselves out in the open? 

As someone who was given a lot of responsibly and forced to grow up at a young age, I completely understand this. You want to try to make everything better for others around you, you get scared when you fuck up, and you HATE when people can’t rely on you. That’s why you will never show how scared you are to fuck up. You will never let people get inside your head because if they can’t rely on you, what good are you? Breaking out of the role that everyone else gave you because they trusted you is scary and hard. 

Nico is probably the only person who knows what Will really thinks. Will trusts Nico with his anxiety and overthinking because he’s comfortable enough around him to show that side. He knows he doesn’t have to Mr. Hero in front of Nico and that’s such a precious and important bond to make with someone. 

Will was valid for being whiny and irritated for most of the book. 

First, Will has ANXIETY. If you don’t know what it’s like to live with anxiety, count yourself lucky. It feels like your thoughts are attacking you constantly. It’s like an uphill battle between rational thought and absolute chaos. I can’t get in my car without thinking of all the ways I could die before I buckle my seatbelt. Imagine going to SuperHell for the first time in your life! Not only that, but people told Will constantly that as a child of Apollo he was basically fucked. The three strongest demigods that made it back almost went insane! Of course Will is going to be upset, irrational, irritated, and uncomfortable. 

In TOA, he voiced several times how he thought it was a bad idea and that he really didn’t like it. This is not a new thing for Will’s character at all. For him to be willing to cross a line he had made concrete shows that he loves and cares for Nico. But that shouldn’t mean he isn’t allowed to be uncomfortable. 

Second, for anyone saying he could have stayed at camp instead of going has never sacrificed their comfort for someone else. There are so many instances in my life where I went way out of my comfort zone because I knew my friends/family wanted me there. Did I complain? Hell yes. Did I still do it? Hell yes! If Will had said, “Nico, I can’t do this and I refuse to at least try,” I would have lost so much respect for his character. Instead he sucked it up, even when he was already practically dying before they got there. 

Three, Will was worried about Nico. He’s never experienced Tartarus, he’s never been to the Underworld. While Will has definitely faced his share of demons, he’s never stood in Nico’s shoes. So when his boyfriend is having vivid nightmares and hearing voices, he’s going to try and rationalize it for Nico because that’s what he has done his entire life. Will is the “healer.” He is supposed to fix things, not let them traipse off to hell like it’s a vacation spot. 

Four, this is a 15 year old. Fuck, even now at the ripe ole age of 20, I’d still be shaking in my boots terrified at the thought of going somewhere that is practically a jailhouse for the worst creatures in creation. Will has little to no experience on the field (He ran from six guards without even trying to pull out a weapon. The worst thing he’s ever said to his enemies was “anemic loser” and didn’t even want to kill Octavian. Every battle before that he had an older sibling to look up to and care for him). So yeah, I’d just be a tad bit nervous and annoying.  

Will asking Persephone how to love someone from the Underworld was honest and raw. 

This scene broke me in ways I can’t even describe because of how real it felt. If you’ve ever been in a deep and caring relationship (friendship counts) you should understand. Like Persephone said, love is something you choose and it’s complicated and messy even for people who were practically made for each other. For Will to ask how to love someone from the Underworld shows that he is actively choosing to understand and love Nico. 

I get that most people interpret Will’s lines as “How do you love someone so filled with death?” but really he’s asking how do you love someone who acts like he doesn’t want to be loved? How do you love someone that pulls away from your light no matter how desperately you try to give it them? How do you love someone who hides parts of themselves from you? 

Will is a healer, he fixes things. It’s not until this scene that Will realizes the only thing Will needs to fix is his perspective on Nico. That darkness and hurt and trauma is okay. It’s also a scene where Will realizes he doesn’t have to force down his own trauma anymore. 

Will loves Nico and it’s so obvious he scared to lose him. He thinks he’s weak and broken and incapable of helping Nico escape his trauma. His insecurities shadow him and he’s confused about how to navigate this relationship because he thinks he needs to be the leader. How can he lead if Nico won’t let him? How can he help when he doesn’t know how? Persephone’s scene was Will’s chance of finding guidance from someone who could understand exactly what he’s thinking

People in their late 40′s still can’t get relationships down. Why are we pushing unrealistic relationship ideations on a 15 year old who doesn’t even know who he is yet?

Will was not useless. 

Sorry that the relationship duo isn’t Mr. Badass and Mr. Badass 2.0. Will not being a fighter is refreshing to see because honestly I’m quite tired of seeing badass couples in every book/movie. Not everyone is strong and powerful and super awesome. Will is a nerd that likes healing people. Why isn’t that enough? 

“He’s described as having muscles,” “He’s a field/combat medic,” “He fought in the wars,” “He carries people all the time,” “He trains with the Apollo cabin.” Okay and? I was raised to work hard and protect myself. I work out and I know how to use a bow and knife. Does that mean I want to? No. 

I’d also like to point out that almost everyone in camp is described as having muscles. You kind of have to when your life motto is Try not to die or get eaten. Also they train on lava walls, jump eight foot pits, and weapons. I get a little bit of muscle going on my silly little walks, I’d be fucking jacked if I was actively training. 

Second, Will has never once been described fighting monsters/demigods. I don’t doubt that he’s had a few encounters, but the boy practically specializes in RUNNING AWAY. He’s a feral little animal that finds injured demigods and sprints them away to the medic center while occasionally bashing monster heads in. He’s strong because he needs to be, not because he wants to be. Strength also doesn’t equal battle prowess. 

Not to mention, he hates killing! He didn’t want to kill Octavian despite Octavian being the actual worst. He runs away as a distraction even though he had weapons on him. He got upset when Nico threw Sherman Yang out of the chariot in TOA. Monsters are different, but monsters are also scary. Will is terrified of demon pigeons, you really think he’s willingly gonna go one-on-one with anything bigger than his pinky? 

I’ll admit, I hated that he didn’t have a weapon in Tartarus. I thought it was really stupid and out-of-character because my anxious ass would have loaded up. Still, it was kind of funny when they described Will bashing rocks over monster’s heads during their fight with Nyx. 

My final point for this: Will was Nico’s support system and that was the point. Will knew he wasn’t going to throw hands with anyone. He went because he knew Nico needed him even when Nico told him to stay. Will was going to trek through SuperHell with the love of his life and hold his hand to remind him that he was loved. Will wanted Nico to know that he’d literally go to Hell and back for him and that’s what mattered. 

Nico didn’t ask Will to be the Hero. Nico states several times that the reason he loves Will is because he wants to heal and he’s so stubborn to find the good in everything. And that’s exactly what Will did. He offered support, care, and reminders. He was going to understand and love Nico, even through the darkest parts of his life. 

Will is one of the best support systems in a PJO couple duo. 

It makes me incredibly sad to see people call Will toxic when he gave his entire life to support Nico. I won’t deny that he complained a lot and said hurtful things and that he occasionally belittles Nico’s feelings. But Will didn’t know he was doing those things. He thought he was helping Nico navigate his PTSD. How is someone who is still emotionally developing his own character supposed to know how to take care of someone else’s? 

Will also clearly showed love and affection towards Nico. He met all his friends and was polite to them even when they looked scary. Will risked his life several times before they got to Tartarus and still insisted on continuing. Built a Minecraft house for his boyfriend and left him a KitKat bar because he knew he would feel fatigued (also Will brought KitKat bars, meaning he was already thinking of Nico’s health beforehand). He tried to be useful by scouting ahead because he felt like he was being a burden on Nico. He kissed him, called him silly nicknames, hugged him, respected his boundaries (asking to hold him instead of trying to comfort him immediately), and oh yeah, went to Tartarus when he was obviously quaking in his flipflops. 

He also helped Bob when he had no idea who/what he was, comforted Nico when he was beginning to lose hope, acknowledged his mistakes and admitted he needed to try harder, realized he didn’t need to fix Nico and that his boyfriend was perfect the way he was, and learned that Nico wasn’t going to leave him. 

Love is complicated. Love is something you choose. And Will chooses to love Nico. Also for everyone saying a year is long enough to learn/realize these problems already and have them solved, you need to take the rose tinted glasses off. I’ve been with my partner for almost four years, and I’m still learning things about our relationship. We argue, we don’t always meet eye-to-eye. Our own trauma and experiences surface and it gets difficult. But do we just call it quits and throw everything into the trash? No. We talk, we problem-solve, we come back and try to understand each other even if we don’t know how to do that. A year is nothing. A year is puppy love and excitement. It’s like your favorite movie on repeat. All the problems are ignored because you don’t want to see them yet. 

So for a pair of 15 year old's who just came to terms with their sexuality, I think that they are doing pretty damn good at this love thing. 

Anyway, that’s all I really wanted to say. Even though we’ve had Will for years, we’ve never gotten to know his true character until now. It’s raw and weird and doesn’t fit the mold of Will Solace, son of Apollo we all created him to be. You can still hate his character or whatever, I’m not going to try to change your mind. But don’t hate on everyone else who loves him and loves this book. 

[theamazingmaddyas]

So, I've been hyperfixating on Michael Yew as a character in general (No, I'm not okay, all the fanfictions have emotional destroyed me) and I've been going through everything Michael related, and recently have been looking at Michael fan art, and I've realized that almost every fanart where he's with someone else he's oddly tall? Like, this isn't hate towards the artists, they're out here doing the gods work drawing minor characters, but it leads me to wonder if people really realize how small Michael truly is.

Michael's described as being four foot six, and while one could technically try and argue that Percy is an unreliable narrator and is estimating Michael's height, there is quite a bit of evidence on the contrary. Michael is one of, if not the only person who Percy gives an exact height to; even Annabeth, Percy just describes as being tall, never giving the reader an exact height. Besides, Percy's description of Michael is as followed, "Michael stood four feet six, with another two feet of attitude." If Percy were estimating, or even exaggerating, he'd probably use a preposition in his sentence. So, it's safe to say that Percy is 100% certain of Michael's height (which does leave the question how Percy's so certain of this fact, but we'll never know that, as much as I wish we did.)

I know most countries don't use feet, and as someone who read the U.S. edition, I cannot be positive, but I'd assume if other dialects of English, or different languages, had their prints, it would be in what's common there (probably centimeters?) But if not, here's a conversion chart for everyone:

4ft 6in = 4.5 ft = 54 in = 137.16 cm = 1.37 m

Okay, so we all know how objectively small Michael is, but how does that compare to other people? It's difficult sometimes to make such comparisons between two characters, so I found a height comparision thing to show the height difference. As you, hopefully, can see, the first picture I put Michael (4'6" or 137.16cm) next to Percy (who's about 6' or 182.88 cm). And the second, Michael next to Coach Hedge (5') because his height is made explicit in heroes of olympus, while Percy's is just a guesstimate.

Michael doesn't even reach Percy's shoulder in height, despite the two being the same age, or Michael being older (which I genuinely believe: see my previous post about Michael). Even with Hedge, who people comment on how small he is, has a noticeable few inches on Michael, who reaches to probably about his nose or upper lip.

Now, mostly Michael is drawn with the other Apollo boys, and I've rarely see a fanart where Will's taller than him. Maybe it's because Will is explicitly a few years younger than him (at minimum, 2½, at maximum, 5ish), or maybe not, I'm not sure.

According to the wikipedia page, Will Solace is 6', but again, we take everything on the wikipedia page with a grain of salt, because Will is just described as tall in the books, specifically in Heroes of Olympus where Will would be about 14 or 15 (though, this is also a bit iffy. I could write a whole thesis on Will's age, specifically how I believe Apollo's description of Will's age is overexaggerated in THO, but that's for another post). Using this math, Will would have been approximately 13 to 14 when Michael kicked the bucket. The average height for a 13 year old boy is 5'1" to 5'5", meaning, if Will's height were truly above average, he'd be, at minimum, 11 inches taller than his brother in TLO, which is:

Even if the fanart is depicted a young Will like starting it camp, there is no plausable way for him to be taller than Michael.

Here's a chart for average heights of a white boy (while we do not know Michael's ethnicity, this chart is easiest to show). The red dot is Michael's height in The Last Olympian, if he were 16, and the yellow dot is Will's approximate height, at 13.

If you were to graph out Michael's height, it'll be pretty obvious that the only ages he's taller than Will is when he's really really young (I study neither biology nor math, so I couldn't be bothered to actually figure out the formula, but maybe I will someday) if Michael grew at an average rate. If his growth was normal until about ten and then was stunted, that would be a different story, but we, as readers, will never truly know the reason.

I might not be a bio or math major, but I do double major in creative writing and psychology, and that means I'm interested in why Michael is drawn taller in comparision to who he's with. And for this I have a few theories.

The first one, which I mentioned a bit ago in this post, is age. People percieve being taller as being older—though once you reach adulthood this becomes less infallible, though since they are kids that doesn't matter much—meaning if Michael were drawn his actual height, he'd be percieved as younger. While I'm not positive, I have an inkling this stems from ableism, but I have no proof to back up that claim.

My second theory is that, much like the fact that many people in the fandom say Connor and Travis are twins even though it is explicitly stated they are not, people genuinely forgot. Or one person said something, and it snowballed from there.

My third and final theory is that people just can't fully comprehend the height difference in their mind. I struggle with creating mental images, and it's possible that many other people do.

It's interesting to think about, really. And I'd really like to know if other people noticed this, or if I'm just overthinking everything again.

[bellofthemeadow]

Dawn ends the Night

Aemond Targaryen x Dayne!Reader

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 2.8K

Warning: All warnings on the Series Masterlist, will update if necessary (Re-iterating, no minors allowed! Thank you)

Chapter Summary: As a newly woman grown, you learn of your fate as a woman in a men's world.

Notes: Guess who's back? Back again?! I AM BACK (again)!

Hello everyone, I'm thrilled to announce that I'm back! 🎉 After a brief hiatus due to my final undergraduate semester (which I just completed this past Monday – yay!), and amidst the hustle of graduate school applications, I'm finally able to return to writing.

I'm incredibly excited to embark on a brand-new series with you all. I've recently tumbled down the HOTD rabbit hole, and my obsession with Aemond Targaryen knows no bounds! 🐉 I assure you, my other fanfictions haven't been forgotten. I'm currently working on them and, with the festive season around the corner, I look forward to dedicating more time to writing and establishing a more consistent posting schedule.

Your support means the world to me and I love you all so so much💖 Feel free to reach out if you have any special requests, ideas, or if you'd just like to chat. I'm always so happy to connect with mutuals!!! Love you all

Taglist: (None yet)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Prologue - The Ghost of Starfall

All your life, your father had assured you that you would marry into the Martel family, destined to reign over Dorne like the ancient Dayne kings of the Torentine. But these plans shifted when Quoren Martell welcomed his daughter, Aliandra, who was destined to become the future Princess of Dorne and Lady of Sunspear. And although the Dornish were much more unrestrained than their counterparts on the continent, you were quite certain that they would not accept you becoming the princess’ consort. Two women officially ruling Dorne? Even that would be a bit too radical for the love-loving Dornishmen.  

After his plans to make you the future ruling princess of Dorne fell through, your father started to envision a different future for you. You could still vividly recall nights spent perched on his knee, gazing up at the starlit sky. The cool desert breeze caressing your skin as you looked on in awe, your father's voice weaving tales of the grand life awaiting you as the Lady of Starfall. Those few precious moments, however, faded into memory with the arrival of your 13th birthday and the birth of Gerris. That misty morning marked a shift in everything when your brother came into the world screaming his little lungs out marked the end of your future as the Lady of the Dawn. As although Dorne's inheritance laws, shaped by Nymeria and the Roynar, endorsed absolute primogeniture, the stony Dornish your kin, those with deep roots in the First Men and the Andals, still favored the firstborn son. Technically, you knew you could challenge this tradition. You had the right, the means, and perhaps even the support of Qoren Martell to retain your birthright. 

Yet, as you watched your father, his eyes brimming with wonder and joy at the sight of his newborn son, a decision settled quietly within 13 years old you. And with a heavy heart but resolute spirit, you chose to step aside. You withdrew silently, without protest or fanfare, setting aside your claim for the love of your family. And as the years passed you by, you found yourself amid whispers and wishes for Gerris who was still but a babe, to inherit the revered honor of your house — the title of “Sword of the Morning," a symbol of unmatched valor and prestige among your kin, that only the braves and more chivalrous could inherit. Each mention from the courtiers was a poignant reminder of your own path, not as a son of House Dayne, but as its daughter. Not as the lady of the castle, but as its ghost, a ghost of better times, simpler times. But in quieter moments, you tried to find solace in the belief that there were other, perhaps more subtle, ways to serve and honor your family. You had read all that there was to read about rulership, about history and about philosophy and you knew that true power could manifest in a myriad of forms, not solely in the strength of arms. As you gaze upon the intricate tapestry of your family's history, you knew that your role was no less significant and that you would radiate with your own bright light. 

But for you, whispers of Dawn or grand destinies were absent, their echoes replaced by a more pragmatic reality. In place of tales of great adventures beyond the narrow sea, the halls of Starfall began to fill with a different kind of anticipation. The noble houses of Blackmont, Toland, Uller, and even the Yronwood sent their envoys and heirs. This cavalcade of suitors, a stark contrast to the dreams of your future before Gerris’ birth solidified your new role within the walls of your father’s castle. It was a shift, subtle yet profound, marking both an end and a beginning. You were no longer the future ruling Lady of House Dayne; you were now a key figure in its political future. 

Duty became a familiar companion, yet melancholia was your closest confidante, a shadow that dimmed the brightest of days. This deep-seated wistfulness made entertaining suitors an arduous task and instead, you found solace gazing from the high castle walls, eyes wandering over the sandy mounds and the winding Torentine, over the stony mountains that cradled Starfall away from the continent's heart. 

There, atop those ancient walls, you would lose yourself in dreams, wrapped in the embrace of solitude. It was in these moments of quiet reflection that you yearned to be something more, something beyond the expectations set upon you. They began to call you the 'Ghost of Starfall'. An ethereal presence, haunting the corridors and ramparts, a spirit adrift in her own thoughts, her dreams unfulfilled and stretching endlessly before her. 

But to your astonishment, your father never sanctioned any betrothals. Representatives from Yronwood, Blackmont, and Uller came and went, each departing without a pledge from the enigmatic ghost of Starfall. You refrained from asking why, harboring a fear that your inquiry might prompt your father to reconsider, possibly sending you away from your beloved star-gazing haven to the austere castles of Uller or the strict Yronwood. 

After your father's latest refusal of a suitor — a young, landed knight from the Reach, his brown curls soft and eyes a mesmerizing blend of green flecked with gold — you looked at your father, filled with uncertainty. “He seemed kind father.” you softly whispered. You could imagine yourself marrying this man, with long lazy days spent gazing into his warm eyes.  In response, your father rose from his starry throne and approached you, placing a gentle kiss on your brow. "My little star deserves more than a mere knight," he said softly. "I will find you a suitor worthy of the starry heavens, my sweet love." After this declaration, suitors ceased to arrive. 

Until this morning. 

In the dim pre-dawn light, your mother gently roused you, her movements quiet in the stillness before the castle stirred to life. With tender hands, she dressed you, her fingers weaving your hair into an intricate half-up updo, the lower strands cascading in soft curls. Her touch was soothing, almost melodic, as she adorned you in a gown of white and purple samite. Its gauzy sleeves fluttered ethereally, transforming you into the very ghost of legend whispered in the halls of Starfall. 

"Is it time?" you asked, a hint of apprehension in your voice, as she fastened a necklace around your neck, its purple stone shaped like a star glimmering softly. 

In lieu of a direct answer, she pressed a kiss to your forehead, her lips whispering a silent prayer. "Come, my sweet girl," she murmured softly into your hair. "Today, you must be strong." Hand in hand, she led you towards your father’s personal solar, each step resonating into the stillness of the morning.  

As you and your mother stepped into the solar, a sense of confusion washed over you. Before you, your father and Prince Qoren Martell stood in hushed, intense discussion, surrounded by a sea of scattered papers. They were so engrossed in their conversation that they failed to notice your entrance, prompting a deliberate cough from your mother. 

"Ahem," she cleared her throat pointedly, breaking their focus. 

The two men spun around, their expressions shifting from concentration to surprise. Your mother regarded them with a mildly unimpressed gaze, her poise unshakable. 

"My lords, a touch of gallantry, if you please," she chided lightly, gesturing towards you. 

As their eyes found you, you executed a graceful curtsy, the fabric of your gown whispering against the floor. Prince Qoren's face broke into a broad smile at the sight. 

"No need for such formality, my dear," he chuckled warmly. "Look at you, outshining the stars themselves! Fortunately, you've inherited your mother's beauty and not your father's," he teased, his eyes twinkling with mirth. 

A blush crept across your cheeks at his words. "Thank you, Prince Qoren," you replied shyly, "Your flattery is most kind." 

"It's not flattery if it's the truth, my dear," Prince Qoren Martell retorted with a playful wink. A heavy silence then descended upon the room, enveloping your parents and your distinguished guest, the great prince of the lands you called home. You felt like an unwitting participant in a jest whose punchline you didn't know, the unwitting fool in an unspoken joke. Yet, no laughter broke the silence. Compelled by your uneasy curiosity, you posed the question that hung unspoken in the air. 

"The journey from Sunspear must have been arduous, my Prince. We are honored by your visit," you began, your voice steady. "May I inquire as to the urgency of your need for me this early, and why the esteemed Prince of Dorne would grace us with his presence?" 

"Your wit matches your beauty, Lady," Prince Qoren replied with a sincere smile. "I've traveled from my home to discuss a certain missive, one that concerns both your father, yourself and the future of Dorne." 

"I gather this missive must be of great import to summon me before even the servants begin their day," you ventured, a hint of steel in your voice. "It seems a matter of secrecy." 

"Indeed, my daughter," your father interjected. "We've received a proposal regarding your hand in marriage." 

"And who might this suitor be, that his proposal warrants Prince Qoren's personal involvement?" you asked, your eyebrow arching with skepticism. 

"As your father's dear friend and as someone who has always taken a keen interest in your future, my Lady, all of Dorne has its eyes on you," the prince answered, meeting your gaze. 

Your skepticism remained. "So much so that it necessitates a journey from Sunspear?" 

Your mother, sensing the rising tension, interjected softly, "Come, sit with us, my dear." As you took your seat, your father tenderly grasped your hands, planting a soft kiss upon your knuckles. "The Dragons have expressed interest in you," he revealed, his voice laced with a mixture of pride and concern. 

Your breath hitched at the mention of 'Dragons.' There was only one house in all of Westeros and beyond that was associated with the winged fire breathing beasts. Starfall knew more than anyone else the dangers of their fire and of their wrath. 

Prince Qoren clarified, "This request likely originated from Otto Hightower. Our spies from the capital suggest the Greens are maneuvering for the throne. With old Viserys nearing his end, they're placing their pieces on the cyvasse board. Hightower may be a contemptible leech, but his cunning is undeniable." He stroked his dark beard thoughtfully 

But why would Otto Hightower want me?" you asked, your voice tinged with a mix of confusion and urgency. "Dorne isn't even part of their kingdom! We've aligned with the Triarchy and have been opposing the dragons since their arrival on our shores." The plea in your voice was evident as you looked over your parents and your prince, who stood unmoving yet deep in thoughts.  

"That is precisely why Otto Hightower is interested – not just in you, but in Dorne," Qoren Martell explained gravely, looking into your eyes. "We Dornish have a history of standing against dragons. We've never bowed, broken, or bent the knee. We know how to fight them, and we know hot to kill them. Now, Hightower wants our alliance to counter Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen's claim when they make their move for the throne." 

"But is Princess Rhaenyra not the legitimate heir? By Dornish law, she should be the future queen. If we were to engage in their politics, should we not we support the Blacks?" you questioned.   

"We might have aligned with Princess Rhaenyra," Qoren admitted with a hint of regret, "if not for her union with Daemon Targaryen. Remember the Stepstones? That debacle alone shows why it's dangerous for Daemon to wield any real power. He's not just a rogue; he's a warmonger." 

Qoren paused, weighing his words carefully. "Should Rhaenyra ascend the throne, Daemon would be right there, whispering in her ear. And let us be frank, he'd relish any excuse to launch an assault on Dorne, trying to conquer what Aegon the Conqueror couldn't. Whether it's for personal glory or just to satisfy his lust for war, it's a risk we cannot afford." 

A shudder ran through you at the thought of Dorne, bloodied and broken. Determined to prevent such a fate for your people, you asked in a subdued tone, "What is expected of me?" 

"Oh, my sweet girl," your mother murmured, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. "You are not obliged to do anything. If you wish, we will send Otto Hightower away with a message to shove his seven-pointed star straight up his arse, and we will stand against Daemon Targaryen if need be." she tearfully proclaim, her face in your hair.  

"You won't be forced into anything you're not willing to embrace. As for Otto Hightower, trust isn't a luxury I afford him as my experience with this man has taught me to be wary of his machinations. He is adept at playing the long game, and his latest maneuver is quite telling. By extending this proposal to your father and deliberately excluding me, he seeks to sow seeds of discord, perhaps hoping to weaken the unity that has long been our strength.His intentions, I surmise, are to draw you into the Hightower fold through marriage. Such a union could potentially sway Dorne's allegiance in the looming conflict for the Iron Throne."  

Pausing, Qoren looked out the window, then back at you with a solemn expression. "This is not merely a question of matrimony. It is a strategic move and our response will shape the future, not just for us, but for all of Dorne." 

You furrowed your brow in contemplation. "Why would we even entertain his proposal if his intent is to divide us?" you questioned. 

Prince Qoren's expression turned shrewd, cunning playing in his dark brown eyes"Precisely because we understand his motives. By accepting his offer on our terms, we control the game. It's like holding all the key pieces in cyvasse; we dictate the moves, and we can make the dragons dance to our tune." 

Your mind whirled, grappling with the enormity of everything they were telling you.  

"Consider carefully, my little star," your father said, "This decision rests in your hands. Whatever path you choose, know that we stand with you." 

"If I agree, may I set my own terms?" you asked softly.  

"Of course, my Lady," Qoren grants. 

"Accept Otto Hightower’s offer of marriage, tell him that we will aid him in his future conflict against Daemon Targaryen and the Blacks, but it comes with a non-negotiable stipulation: Dorne's independence is sacrosanct. We shall not yield to Targaryen sovereignty. Instead, we shall stand as allies, lending our support whilst retaining our autonomy. This, of course, hinges on your approval, Prince Qoren." 

Your mother's face registered shock. "But that would mean you'd be separating from Dorne, becoming part of their realm, no longer ours." 

“If it spares Dorne from being shackled by dragons, then I am willing to pay that price," you declared, feeling a shiver trace its way down your spine. With those words, you realized all that you were giving up. No longer would you be a daughter of Dorne; gone would be the nights spent stargazing from the ramparts, where stars seemed close enough to touch. You would miss the long walks on the ancient, stony steps, each one etched from the history of your ancestors. 

Gone, too, would be the fierce embrace of the desert sun in the mornings, its rays painting the sands in hues of gold and amber. You would yearn for the sweet scent of orange blossoms, a fragrance that always seemed to hold the very essence of your homeland. Instead, you would find yourself in the capital, and it would be there, in a place far from the lands that shaped you, that you would remain until the end of your days. 

My brave girl, stronger than any man in this land. A true Nymeria reborn," your mother said, her voice tinged with pride and sorrow. 

You mustered a smile, though it tasted bitter on your lips. "Nymeria was never bartered to a man she did not know. She carved her own destiny, fiercely and freely." 

"My girl..." your mother began, but you cut her off gently. 

"It's alright, Mother. I will fulfill my role to the end," you assured her, your voice steady, but your inside twisted uncomfortably. Who were you trying to convince, her or yourself? Your mother's breath hitched at your words, she closed her eyes holding you closer as if you would become a babe again, clutching at her skirts – not nearly a woman grown, ready to be delivered into the claws of the enemy.  

"Rest assured," your father added sternly, "If the dragons dare mistreat you, we will not shy away from invoking Joffrey Dayne's legacy and we will burn their city like their cursed beasts!” 

A pause hung in the air before you finally asked, "Who is it that Otto Hightower has in mind for me to marry?" 

"The King's second son, Prince Aemond Targaryen... the one-eyed prince.” 

Next chapter

[lestatdelivncvurt]

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader

The death of Daemon Targaryen never had hurt you more than it should.

Inspired by Ophelia from Hamlet. The end quote is from Song of Achilles.

fanfiction | House of the Dragon

"Daemon, where are you going?" You inquire as you watches him readying to soar on dragonback with Dark Sister. Your gaze lifted to meet his, worry etched upon your visage as you observed your beloved. The war still raged, his life at stake.

Daemon turned to face you, unable to utter the truth, he imparted to you a falsehood. "Fret not for me, my love," he reassured, yet noting that your furrowed brow betrayed your unease.

He descended from his dragon, alighting before you on the earth. He clasped your hands firmly in his, bestowing a tender kiss upon them.

Your eyes locked with his. "Where are you going?" You softly inquire once more, voice quivering akin to your heart that throbbed and ached with dread. "You cannot go." It was your intuition that whispered so.

Nevertheless, Daemon sought to reassure you. "I shall return." The prince enfolded you in a kiss, pressing his lips fervently against yours, yearning to cherish the moment with you one last time.

As the kiss parted, he stroked your cheeks, brushing away the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. "Keep this ring," he murmured, placing the silver ring in your palm.

A look of confusion crossed your visage as you gazed at him.

"Know that you are half of my soul," he whispered to you, and you were a fool to let him depart from your side.

You observed as he ascended Caraxes. The sense of foreboding only intensified as he and Caraxes soared into the heavens, perhaps never to return to you.

When he leapt towards Aemond with Dark Sister, you pondered what thoughts consumed him, his allegiance to Rhaenyra or his love for you?

As his blade pierced through the boy like butter, its edge piercing his remaining eye, was he reminiscing about you?

Did remorse grip him for leaving you bereft and alone?

Every morning you awoke to an empty bed, solitude enveloping you. The news of his demise shook you to the core, unable to contain your tumult of emotions, you wept bitterly.

Days passed, the war for the throne persisted. And you battled against the war of grief and madness threatening to engulf you completely. His remnants provided solace, soothing your tears and calming the sobs that escaped.

Rhaenyra and the others watches as you gradually descended into madness.

You sank to the ground, faltering with each step, observing as the water tenderly kissed the earth, forming a gentle ripple. The God's Eye was where your beloved had met his end with the young prince Aemond.

You prayed for Aemond, envisioning the suffering he must have endured.

Tears streamed down your face as you knelt by the water's edge, feeling the anguish in your heart. How could he forsake you so? He vowed to stay by your side, to live, to love you eternally.

You clutched the ring he had bestowed upon you not long ago.

"I shall return," he pledged as he placed the ring in your hand. The silver caressed your skin. Then he bestowed upon you a kiss, one of fervor and hunger. You could faintly feel his lips against yours, so sweet and intoxicating. He departed with his sword and his dragon as you watched from below, witnessing him slowly recede from your life.

Now you wished you had halted him.

Regardless of the throne's fate, regardless of victory or defeat, you stood resolute. The water beckoned to you, like a siren luring sailors. You dipped your feet into the water, smiling as though sensing his touch against your skin.

Similar to Queen Helaena and Daemon, you submerged into the water. Even as it embraced you tighter and deeper, pulling you further down, you only closed your eyes, gazing at the darkening and blurring sky. You tightened your grip on the ring in your hand. Not it, you could not lose it, not even in death.

Death welcomed you like an old friend, with open arms. You accepted your destiny.

In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.

[andreafmn]

Bound | Chapter 9

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: Rosalie always carried the resentment of not being able to fulfill the image of the perfect family she had in her head. But the universe had set out to grant her everything she could’ve hoped for in the most unconventional way and in the form of a witch. Can their love withstand the promise of forever or will Rosalie and (Y/N) succumb to the grapples of time?

A/N: next chapter is gonna be steaaaamy decided to cut it here because I needed to update the story like yesterday. But I love them too much (even though I know they are not endgame and I'm literally the writer 😭😭) Can I make fanfiction of my own fanfiction?? *asking for a friend*

<- Previous

Time seemed to move differently in the face of eternity. A year passed by in a flash and (Y/N) would not have noticed had it not been for the absence of Beatrice. 

She had been preparing for a morning class when the mailman slid a letter through her door’s mail slot. She knew it was something that would arrive anytime soon, but she still wasn’t ready for when it did. In her hands rested a forest green envelope with gold lettering and her name staring back at her. Of course (Y/N) knew what it was. But the witch didn’t want to believe it had arrived. 

“You are cordially invited to the soulbinding ceremony between Beatrice Cabot and Russell Morgan,” (Y/N) said with a scoff. “Guess I should have seen this one coming.” 

As the spiteful words left her mouth, the witch found herself regretting them. She had said it in solitude, yet she still felt they had reached her raven-haired friend. The wedding was inevitable. After she had left them behind, it was the normal trajectory of their life. Bea would live, she would marry, she’d have children, she would live. They were all things (Y/N) could not give her, could have never given her. 

The wedding was only a day away when the envelope arrived, and it made her think maybe they didn’t truly want her there. She had probably been invited mostly out of a formality, but by sending it so close to the date, she believed they were hoping she would show up at all. And maybe she wouldn’t. (Y/N) believed that until she turned the paper over. Behind the thick cardboard, in the same perfectly crafted calligraphy, the words ‘Come home’ were written. It was a beacon back, a desperate cry for a last solace. Bea hadn’t pushed her away; she never had. They had merely become victims of time and space, of busy schedules and raying lifestyles. 

But the love? Oh, the love burned bright and hot, lying patiently waiting for the moment it could blaze through everything in its path. Beatrice was (Y/N)’s eternal love. She didn’t know there would be another far greater and far grander. But for the time being, Beatrice was love incarnate for the witch. She was the girl’s first taste of a love so intense it surpassed societal boundaries and predetermined limitations. A love so pure it wasn’t jealous or selfish, greedy or impatient—just love in its most pristine form. 

Before she could think twice, (Y/N) was running through her apartment, searching for that one piece she needed for the celebration. She had been saving it for a special occasion; not that many came around. And this was the most special event of them all. The love of her life had found a version of happy ever after, and that was all she could ever hope for. Bea was going to be happy, and that was enough. 

There, in the very back of her bedroom closet, is where she found it, still enclosed in the box her mother had stored it in. It was the most expensive piece her mother had owned, and it wasn’t even designer. She pulled the sapphire blue gown out from the tissue paper layer, coughing slightly at the smell of it being stored away. Yet, even after so many years, it was as beautiful as the day her mother had made it. 

In those times, the coven had not been doing well financially—no one was—and her mother’s younger sister had caught the eye of a particular rich bachelor in the city. Her wedding was set to be grand. It would even appear in the papers. Her mother was happy for her sister, of course, but she would never be able to afford the dress she had picked for her matron of honor. 

(Y/N) had been twelve then, and she’d witnessed her mother have a discussion with Margaret regarding the matter. The rehearsal dinner alone would put a dent in their finances they didn’t want to spare. Her mother had thought she would either have to ask her sister’s new family for help or not go to the girl’s wedding at all. 

But the older woman had done something neither (Y/L/N) had thought. “I don’t have the money for a new dress,” she had said. “But I do have enough for fabric. Go ahead, get yourself however much you need, and make yourself the most gorgeous gown this coven has ever seen, Nellie. Make those rich people weep with how beautiful you are.” 

“It’s my sister’s wedding, Margaret,” she had smiled with small tears in her eyes. “I can’t upstage her.” 

“She’ll have her entire life to upstage at a party?” Margaret had teased. “She can have a taste for one night.” 

That very afternoon, they went into town and bought yards and yards of sapphire blue satin fabric that looked like real satin. Her mother had set to work the next day, spending hours upon hours working with old and cheap fabric until she had the perfect pattern to follow. Even with the mismatched cotton pieces, (Y/N) had thought the dress was beautiful, a gown fit for a queen. 

“This is just so I don’t mess up the real thing,” her mother had told her as she hemmed the bottom of the practice piece. “This fabric is too beautiful to mess up.” 

“Then, can I keep this one, mommy?” young (Y/N) had asked. “If you’re gonna make yourself another, that is.” 

“Tell you what, little one. The dress will be yours as soon as you grow into it. And I can’t wait to see how beautiful you will be in it.” 

“But where am I going to wear it to?” 

“Wherever you like to, my dear,” she had smiled brightly. “You’re gonna do great things, my dear jewel. This will just become one gown amongst many.” 

Nellie had been right about one thing. (Y/N) did grow into the dress but her mother had not been able to see her in it. Only two years later, her mother passed, and the dress remained in the white box her mother had neatly folded it into for over a decade. 

Finally, (Y/N) had a place to wear the gown, yet her mother still wouldn’t be able to see it. But the most important person in her life would, and that’s what truly mattered to her. The dress would serve a purpose, and, just like her mother had said, she would look beautiful in it. 

After packing any other essentials, the witch left her apartment and did not look back. She took a taxi down to Rice Field, earning herself a weird look from the driver. It wasn’t usual for a single lady to be dropped off in the middle of the woods with a suitcase at midnight. But the man took the money and left—couldn’t have been too worried. (Y/N) needed a big enough body of water and a secluded place, and at that time of night, Rice Field was perfect. 

She made it to the river bank in a couple of minutes, breathing in the fresh air that surrounded her. She allowed the water to call to her, the earth to sing, and the wind to whisper. They called her home, called on her magic, and begged for her abilities. 

Home, they told her. Come home. 

(Y/N) knelt by the edge of the river, sinking her hands into the mud as she muttered her incantation. Just like the water implored, she thought of home. She painted the image of Bea in her mind and the Bound Souls’ Bank right behind her. The witch felt the pull toward her home through her limbs, saw the reflection of her river in the water, heard the singing of her birds and trees. 

Home, they told her. Come home. 

The bottom of the river opened up, revealing the portal toward her land. She slung her suitcase over her shoulder and took one step forward, allowing herself to sink into the water. Her body was enveloped in air, surrounded by water, but not a single drop touched her skin. 

Home, she felt. She was going home. 

She walked in darkness for a few seconds, her mind clear about where to go. Water travel wasn’t something she frequented. Given the amount of magical energy it required, she couldn’t do it more than just a few times without depleting her magic for a long time. But this moment required travel faster than any human could create. 

Home. She needed to come home. 

Complete darkness soon turned into sparkling lights in the night sky, into rustling leaves, into a babbling river with a waterfall a hundred feet away. She recognized the smells, the sounds, the sights. From every ripple in the water to every rock on the edge, she knew this place like the back of her hand. Including the girl who had fallen asleep a few feet away. 

On a patch of grass, Bea rested her head on her crossed arms, her eyes fluttering under the weight of sleep. She always looked younger when she slept, but (Y/N) could tell just how much a single year had already transformed her. There were more than just three white hairs on her raven mane, she had new dark circles under her eyes, and the lines on her face had deepened ever so slightly. Yet, her beauty remained. In the witch’s eyes, she was the perfect woman she had fallen for in her teenage years. 

“Darling,” (Y/N) whispered as she shook the girl softly. “Darling, wake up.” 

The younger woman opened her eyes softly, a smile spreading across her mouth as her sights were set on the witch above her. “You’re here,” Beatrice beamed, wrapping her arms tightly around (Y/N)’s neck. “You’re finally home. I thought you weren’t coming.” 

“As if I’d ever miss this for the world,” she chuckled softly. “I just got the letter today. I would have been sooner if I could have.” 

“I waited here every day for two months since we sent the letters,” Bea said. “Something told me I should wait longer today, but I fell asleep while waiting.” 

“That’s alright, darling,” (Y/N) smiled as she caressed her soft cheek. “I’m here now. That’s all that matters.” 

Bea remained quiet as she stared at the woman before her. Tears had formed in the corners of her eyes, glimmering under the light of the moon. They fell promptly down her cheeks, faster and faster, before either could stop them from coming. It seemed as though everything she had been holding inside was making its way out to the surface and wouldn’t stop until it was done.

“I’m getting married, (Y/N),” the younger witch whimpered. “Tomorrow, I’ll be Mrs. Russell Morgan. Beatrice Morgan.” 

“I know, my darling,” she sighed defeatedly. “But what’s the matter? Is he not treating you right? Are you okay?” 

“Oh, no. He treats me wonderfully. Russell is honestly a man designed by the very gods,” Bea chuckled softly. “But he’s not you. I do love him and care for him immensely, but he’s simply not you.” 

“Beatrice…”

“I know. I know I was the one that pushed you away, and we both know it was the right decision,” she sighed. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss you with every fiber of my being. You are embedded into my heart and my soul. You are and always will be the one keeper of my love.”

“Bea…”

“Just be mine,” the witch whispered, leaving a kiss on the skin of (Y/N)’s neck. “For one last night, tell me I’m yours and that you are mine. Possess me, own me, claim me. Just this one last time.” 

“Bea, you belong to somebody else now,” (Y/N) muttered. She was trying her best to remain strong for them both. When it came to Beatrice, she was weak, and it wouldn’t take much convincing to fall back in her arms. “Russell is a good man, and I will not allow you to ruin that for yourself.”

“He knows, (Y/N),” Bea stated. “He knows my heart has long been taken from my body. He understands the love I have for you is different than the love I have for him. Russell knows about this proposition—I would never keep this from him.”

“How can I be sure that he truly is okay with this?” 

“May the Great Goddess strike me down right now if I am lying to you,” Beatrice exclaimed. There was no lightning, no thunder, no earth-breaking moment that would say otherwise. “Russell and I have great communication, (Y/N). He knows that my heart aches because you are away. He knows you are the greatest love I have known in this lifetime and the next. He knows that if I don’t do this, there is no way our marriage could ever go on. “Tell me I have you, (Y/N),” she cried. “Tell me I still have you, or I fear I may never breathe again.” 

(Y/N) remained silent for a moment. The woman she loved was on her knees, begging for the same love she had pushed away only a year before. Beatrice had told her to go, to leave her behind and start her new life—she would do the same. She had understood it was the right thing to do because it was what Bea had asked of her. Bea had told her to let go, to forget, to renew. She had told her to live. 

And yet, there she was, pleading for the love she had pushed away. How could (Y/N) refuse? 

“I don’t know how you could ever think that you lost me,” (Y/N) smiled, trapping her worried face between her hands in a gentle caress. “For as long as we both live, you will have me, Beatrice Cabot. My heart belongs to you. My lips belong to you. My soul belongs to you. You are my sun, my moon, and all of my stars. And you, my dear Beatrice, you belong to me too.” 

Bea was too overwhelmed to speak. Instead, she pressed her lips onto (Y/N)’s, whimpering slightly at the touch. A year had felt like an eternity without her—a cruel reminder of what the rest of her life would be. She didn’t delude herself. She knew one day the other witch would come to forget her, at least the love they shared. Forever was far too long, and (Y/N) would one day meet the soul bound to hers. Even if she didn’t forget her, it was inevitable that she would no longer be the love of her life. Moments such as these would be fleeting for the now immortal witch, but they would mean the whole world to Beatrice. 

“Take me home,” Bea whimpered as she clung to the woman’s coat. “Take me home, (Y/N).” 

The older witch took the young woman’s hand, helping her up from the ground while grabbing her suitcase with the other. They ran through the woods, down the same path they had taken since they had been little girls. Branches smacked against their skin, leaves tickling their limbs as they passed, luring laughter from their throats. 

Soon enough, they reached (Y/N)’s old cabin, the very place it had all begun—the place where she’d had all of her firsts. From her birth down to her first kiss, even where she had first taken Bea to bed. It was the place where, no matter how much time passed, she could always call home. No matter how much society advanced, she knew the village would withstand the changes of time, and her home would always stand tall and strong, waiting for her return. 

(Y/N) was sure she’d find a layer of dust covering everything she owned and was surprised to see it all in pristine condition. “You’ve been cleaning,” she smiled. “You even removed the sheets.” 

“If I’m honest, I removed them the very day you left,” Bea said sheepishly. “I couldn’t stand seeing the house abandoned.”

“I love it,” she beamed. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” the girl smiled. “I love you more than there are words to describe.” 

(Y/N) couldn’t bear being apart from Beatrice any longer. Closing the door behind her, she dropped her suitcase to the ground and crashed her lips back onto hers. Unlike their kiss at the river, this one was desperate. It was the kiss of a woman starved—starved of connection, of affection, of love and passion. It was the answer to a silent prayer. More than a kiss, it was a covenant. An agreement between two souls that yearned for each other. The moment would come to pass, opportunity would cease to appear before them, but the love would burn brightly for as long as they fed it. 

After tasting her mouth and rediscovering every corner she had claimed once, (Y/N) moved to Bea’s jaw, followed by her neck. She knew her body like her own. There was not a spot she had forgotten about. The raven-haired girl moaned as the witch kissed her right below the ear, just as she had done for years. (Y/N) nipped at the skin, smiling as she drew out the melodious tunes from the girl’s throat. Bea snaked her hands into her hair, pulling at it as the other gave her a particular sharp bite. It took everything inside her not to look at Bea’s surprised face, choosing instead to relish in the sweet taste of her skin before traveling further south. 

(Y/N) kissed her way down Bea’s chest, stopping just above the hem of her nightgown where the top of her breast was exposed. That was the moment she noticed the other woman’s attire. Bea had forgone outside clothing and had been waiting in the cold of fall in nothing but a nightgown and a robe. Until then, she hadn’t even noticed just how cold her skin had felt, finding the temperature comfortable enough. “You could have frozen out there,” she worried. “You should have at least worn a coat.” 

“I drank a warming tincture before I left,” Bea assured. “Russell insisted I did.” 

“He really does care for you,” (Y/N) muttered, her tone coming out sadder than she intended. 

“He cares for your happiness as well, my darling,” she smiled, placing her hand under (Y/N)y’s chin so their eyes could meet. “I promise you, he is in accordance with this arrangement. We spent a very long time talking about it. All he wants is for me to be happy, and he knows you make me happy. I’m telling you, he is a man written by the very gods.” 

“I just feel like I’m betraying his friendship. Even betraying you in a way,” the witch admitted. “You’re supposed to marry him tomorrow. You’re going to be bound to him for the rest of your life, and yet, here we are, already breaking the easiest of vows.” 

“We are not breaking anything, (Y/N),” she reassured. “Do you need to hear it come from his mouth? He does not mind this, darling. I would never lie to you.”  

“But…” 

“Just give me tonight,” Beatrice implored. “If you do not feel comfortable after the wedding, then I understand. But I have not stood before him and the Great Goddess yet to make my vows. Tonight, I am as free as the day is young. Tonight, I am allowed to change my mind about marriage if that is what I choose to do.” The girl took hold of (Y/N)’s hand, giving her a comforting squeeze before laying a chaste kiss on her lips. “Stop worrying, my darling. Just give me tonight.” 

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[not-poignant]

Hi Pia

Sorry is this ask is bothersome but I need some advice.

I while ago I was going through a really bad time mentally but found solace in a fandom. I became friends with a person that I met in a particular fandom and they encouraged me to get into fanfiction and it really helped my mental health as a form of escapism.

After about a year I took the plunge into writing my own fanfics for the fandom and at first they were well received. But then a gender swapped the characters.

For context- in this fandom most of the characters are male and almost all the fanfics available are canon compliant in this regard and I so I wanted to explore an au where all the characters were women instead. I posted a few chapters and was excited for feedback but then my friend from the fandom saw my new fic and messaged me telling me to take it down because it was problematic.

I asked them to explain why and they said that changing canon like that just for the "fun" of it wasn't ok and that if I'm going to "mess around with the characters identities" then I should make them trans instead.

I told her I wasn't comfortable making the characters trans because I myself am not trans and don't feel like I am educated enough to write about gender identities/experiences that I haven't gone through and I don't want to accidentally write something disrespectful.

My friend got back to me and said that take was even more problematic. I asked her to explain further because I was really confused by this point but she didn't get back to me.

A few days later I found out she had told all the people in the discord we were in together that I was being problematic regarding canon and I'm guessing she also went to my bookmarks and sent screenshots to everyone of the "problematic" ships and fics I like??

And now I'm getting hateful messages from people who used to be my friends in the fandom and I don't know what to do.

Should I make the characters male again like they are in canon? Or take the fic down altogether?

Hi anon,

So the short answer is:

You can write genderbending. Every fic is problematic somehow to different people and audiences. Trans people don't all agree on genderbending so you're not going to get a single "correct" answer. Don't take down the fic unless you want to. Don't change the fic unless you want to. Get some better friends. It's worth educating yourself further about this subject.

The longer answer is behind the Read More:

Genderbending is complicated and nuanced and there's a ton of discussion about it. I highly recommend you go somewhere like FanLore to check that out. Especially the further reading section, to see multiple sides of the discussion to then decide how you feel.

There are trans people who love cis genderbends. There are trans people who hate them. There are trans people who don't think they should exist. There are trans people who don't give a shit. There are trans people who want more to exist. There are trans people who think only trans people should be allowed to write any kind of genderbend. There are trans people who think no trans person should ever want to write cis genderbend.

My perspective (as a trans person) is closest to this archived Tumblr post linked here.

With this quote from mercurialmalcontent:

Changing a character to the ‘opposite’ cis gender is a very different thing than making them trans or nonbinary. Insisting that people only change characters to trans is also really damn invalidating, because it implies that being trans is interchangable with being cis. Whoopsie doodle!

And then the entire response from roachpatrol, especially:

so like. people now reducing the issue to ‘cis people are gross and hate trans people’ is pretty ridiculous. it ignores basically twenty years of women questioning, confronting and then dismantling the de-facto heteronormative, exploitative male gaze in order to create the radically progressive fandom atmosphere as we know it today on tumblr. 

And then also this from curriebelle:

there’s nothing inherently transphobic about art that explores gender - quite the opposite, I think - and that’s what genderbends are about. It can be hugelybeneficial to imagine male characters as female in order to explore roles that aren’t traditionally given to women

~

I think the main thing is that in fandom, many trans people have been forced to confront how they feel about genderbends (or cis swaps), whereas many cis people never have to think about it due to cis privilege. That doesn't mean writing it is bad by default, it doesn't mean fics that feature it shouldn't exist, and it doesn't mean problematic fanfiction is bad either. Like I said, everything is problematic to someone.

What actually bothers me the most is that people who you think of as "friends" are trying to police you in this way. Obviously I don't know the full story or the content of the fic, so maybe there's greater context going on that I'm missing. But on the surface, genderbends aren't inherently transphobic, even if some trans people don't like them, or feel dysphoria over them existing.

Ultimately genderbends aren't also often about the trans experience. It's really weird for your friends to assume that writing a story about a bunch of cis women, and a bunch of trans women is going to be exactly the same, or that one is inherently "better" than the other. Trans women experience some different issues (depending on the world), and the stories are likely to have different elements to them. And you're right, not feeling comfortable telling a trans story when you're a cis person wanting to write about cis women does actually make a lot of sense. That doesn't mean you can't do it, but it does make it clear why you didn't do it.

Anon, a friend who is quick to tell a whole bunch of people on a Discord server that you're writing a fic with content they don't like is not a friend, let alone a good friend. They might have once been very caring, but their response here indicates they're putting up a chance to seem righteous and 'moral' above actually caring about you or what you have to say. Especially in a situation where honestly a lot of trans people don't agree with each other, but we all mostly agree not to be dicks to people who write this stuff and to just live and let live.

(Also, trans people can write trans fic that other trans folk feel is transphobic! Something that heals and helps one person, hurts another, that's why the rule in fiction for things like this is very much: "don't like, don't read" and also: learn about it, do some research into it, but you don't have to morally justify what you like in fiction and fiction is the place to write this stuff - it is literally pure fantasy. Heck, some trans people love cis swaps precisely because it's a cis swap instead of a specifically trans narrative, the same reason some trans people hate them. We're not all a monolith with one opinion. Thank god).

Going into your bookmarks to reveal the 'problematic' things you like to a bunch of randos screams of anti-nonsense, people who judge other people's morals based off the fiction they enjoy. Folks like this think it's okay to humiliate, degrade and abuse people over what they enjoy in fiction.

Honestly, if it were me, I'd block these people. Trans people aren't magically free from being abusive shitheads, just like everyone else.

Your friend may have been a friend once, but what they're doing now is just shitty. Ironically, it's also pretty transphobic to the trans people who love and write cis swap and also the trans people who love and read it.