#my only solace is fanfiction

[betweenbreaths]

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

[kryllia]

Silver Threads of Love

Husband Aemond Targaryen x Wife Reader

romantic fluff

art from pinterest

This fanfiction is inspired by a bot in character.ai and I thought it was really cute, so I created this cute scenario. The creator of the bot is @Xaidil

The candlelight flickers, casting golden hues across the dimly lit chamber. The scent of burning wax mingles with the faint trace of lavender lingering in your hair. Aemond sits on the floor beside the bed, his long legs stretched out, his back resting against the mattress as he lets you run your fingers through his silken silver locks.

You’ve always adored his hair—soft as the clouds that drift lazily across the skies of King's Landing, cascading like liquid moonlight down his back. Tonight, you take your time, weaving each strand carefully, enjoying the rare moment of peace between you.

"Are you finished?" Aemond's voice is quieter than usual, a stark contrast to the commanding tone he carries in the war council or during training sessions. Here, in the privacy of your chambers, he is just your husband, not the fearsome prince who rides the largest dragon in Westeros.

"Almost," you murmur, fingers deftly twisting silver into intricate patterns.

Aemond hums in acknowledgment, his singular violet eye half-lidded. He appears content, relaxed even, something he rarely allows himself. You wonder how often he felt this kind of ease in his youth, when every moment was a battle to prove his worth.

"We're just going to sleep," he comments, amusement lacing his voice. "The braid does not have to be flawless. Only you shall see it."

You huff softly, lightly tugging at a strand in playful reprimand. "That does not mean I should be careless, husband."

His smirk deepens, though he makes no move to stop you. Instead, he tilts his head ever so slightly, allowing you to work more comfortably. A gesture so small, yet so significant.

Few would believe the tales if you spoke them—that Aemond Targaryen, the cold and fearsome warrior, allowed his wife to braid his hair before bed, seeking solace in the gentle touch of her hands. But they did not know him as you did. They did not know the man who sought you out in quiet moments, whose arms wrapped around you in the dead of night when his mind was plagued with restless thoughts.

The silence between you is comfortable, the only sound the soft shuffle of your fingers threading through his silver tresses.

After a moment, you tie the end of the braid, running your fingers over it with satisfaction. "There," you whisper. "Done."

Aemond shifts, rising gracefully from the floor to sit beside you on the bed. His eye roves over you, contemplative, lingering on the curve of your lips before meeting your gaze. Slowly, he lifts a hand and pulls the leather eyepatch away, revealing the sapphire embedded where his left eye had once been.

It is not the first time he has shown it to you, but it still takes your breath away. The jewel gleams in the dim light, an ethereal glow in contrast to the warmth of his violet eye. He had once hidden it from you, even long after your wedding. But now, he no longer hesitates. No longer fears what you will see.

Your fingers reach for his face, gently tracing the sharp angles of his cheekbone before brushing over the cool sapphire. He does not flinch.

"You take such care with me," he muses, his voice barely above a whisper. "Even when you do not need to."

Your brows furrow slightly at his words. "Of course, I do," you reply, tilting your head. "You are my husband, Aemond."

A shadow crosses his features, but it is not the cold, detached look he wears before his enemies. This is something softer, something raw.

"You chose to love me," he murmurs. "Even when our marriage was one of duty."

Your chest tightens at the weight of his words. You reach for him, cupping his face with both hands, your thumbs tracing the line of his jaw.

"I did not choose to marry you," you admit softly. "But I chose to love you. And I would choose it again. Every time."

For a moment, he says nothing. Then, in a rare display of affection, he leans into your touch, his lips pressing a slow, reverent kiss against your palm.

His hand moves to your waist, pulling you gently toward him. You do not resist, allowing yourself to be enveloped in the warmth of his embrace. His forehead rests against yours, silver hair spilling over his shoulder, the braid you crafted lying against his back.

"Come," he murmurs, his voice softer than the night breeze filtering through the open window. "Let us sleep."

You barely have time to nod before he guides you down onto the bed, shifting so that your head rests against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothes you, a lullaby more comforting than any sung by the court musicians.

His hand moves lazily along your back, tracing small, absentminded circles, as if grounding himself in your presence. His warmth, his scent—clove, fire, and something distinctly him—surrounds you, making it impossible to keep your eyes open.

Aemond notices. "Sleep, love," he whispers, his lips brushing the crown of your head.

You murmur something in response, though you’re already slipping into slumber, your body melting against his. Aemond chuckles softly, a rare and quiet sound meant only for you. He tightens his arms around you, holding you close as his own eyes finally drift shut.

For all the battles he fights, for all the nights spent planning for war, this—this moment, with you safe in his arms—is the one thing he will always protect.

Fan fact in Fire and Blood Aemond looses his right eye. On the show they switched it to his left eye.

[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.

[thewavesofmel]

The Voicemail

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

A/N: Hello! I have read some Bucky Barnes fanfics over the years and have written some other fanfiction on AO3 myself, but never felt brave enough to write anything like this. So this is my first try writing a Bucky Barnes X Reader fanfic and wrote something today on the spur of the moment and felt brave enough to post it. Depending on how I feel, I may post this on AO3 too. Apologies in advance for any errors!  Additionally, this is my own writing, and I do no consent to it being posted as original content by any other individuals other than myself.

Summary: Bucky gets a voicemail from you after two months of not seeing each other. 

Warnings/Tags: 18+ only, Minors DNI. Smut. With some plot. Friends with benefits. Dirty Talk. Mutual Masturbation. Phone sex (kinda). Voicemail. 

************************************************************************

It’s been two months. Two months of texts almost sent and a finger hovering over your name in his contacts. Two months without your voice, your smile…your touch..your kiss…your moans...and your body. Two months without you. The decision was mutual. You both decided it was for the best. But he couldn't stop thinking about you. He couldn’t stop thinking about how good it was when you both were together. No one made him feel as good as you did. No one knew their way around his body like you did. You knew exactly what made him feel good and how to get him off. You respected his limits and were always eager to try new things. You both have the philosophy of pleasing your lover as much as possible and at least three orgasms before the next round. At first, you both were amazing for each other. You both were each other's confidant and stress relief. You were each other's solace, both when life got hard or when you just needed to feel someone else's body on yours. And somewhere it just all fell apart and got too messy and too intense. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you. But he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop thinking about how good you feel. He couldn’t help but miss the sound you make when you cum and how sweet you tasted when his tongue was deep inside you.  He went through the motions, he went on missions, spent time with the team, went to his therapist, but the thought of you was constantly in the back of his head. The decision to not speak to each other after the break-up wasn’t agreed on or even said, it just happened. He longed to speak to you. God, he wanted to do so much more than just talk. He wanted to fuck you slow and deep just like you liked. Until you begged him to go faster and deeper making you scream out his name. But if he couldn’t have that, he at least wanted to at least just hear your voice. But at the same time, he didn’t even know what to say. So he just didn’t say anything, it was just easier. He thought you would do the same. Until he was proven wrong. 

That night he just got back to his apartment after a week-long mission. It was tedious and intense. As soon as he got home he just wanted to shower and sleep. And if sleep wouldn’t come, he just wanted to fucking lay down for more than 10 minutes. He pushes his still wet hair out of his face as he walks from the bathroom to the bed in comfortable sweatpants. He plops himself on the bed to lay down and sighs deeply with the urge to just roll over and shut his eyes. He decided to check his phone before he wrestles with his sleep and what he sees makes him sit straight up. 

It’s a voicemail. He must have had his phone on silent, he didn’t even hear it ring. Only a few people would call him at this time of the night, usually for a mission. But it wasn’t any of them, it was you. 

Maybe he shouldn’t listen to it. Maybe not hearing from each other if for the best. But all he could think about was hearing your voice. He couldn’t open the message fast enough and pressed play. 

“Hey, it's me.” your voice starts and his breath catches as he hears you.  

“I wanted to... I don't know, I just wanted to... I shouldn't even be calling you, should I? We hadn’t really said we should stop talking to each other. But it’s just… you know.” you stop to sigh and he sighs in agreement.

“But we did make an agreement to stop seeing each other. And I know we said it wasn't a good idea, but I just... I just can't stop thinking about you” you say softly and he feels his heart start to pound. You missed him too and it felt so good to hear you say it. He almost played that part over just to hear you say it again but he wanted to hear what else you had to say. 

“I just wanted to call you and hear your voice. I miss you. I really do. I miss... I miss talking to you. I miss... being around you. I... I miss your touch. I miss kissing you. God damn it, I miss fucking you. Um... I know that... us being... in the same room is difficult and I think that's why we are avoiding each other but I just….I don't want you to…I want you to be close to me because when you're close to me…fuck, so many things happen.” you breathe out, sounding lost in thought. And he breathes with you, his body starting to react to your words. The same tingle he gets in his body starts to make him heat up and he bites his lip.

“I… I... well... First of all, I get out of breath like how I feel out of breath now. Um, I, uh... My heart starts pumping fast. And, um... My body, it feels tingly. All over. And, um... And... And I start to get... So freaking... wet. Just your voice makes me so wet.” you slightly moan. 

“Fuck baby” he whispers in response and he can’t help but let out a small whimper. His cock grows hard at hearing how wet he makes you and the effect he has on you.

“And I... I don't want to let that go, honestly. The way you touch me and how you caress me. The way you know that I like it when you bite my ear. And you trail your tongue from my chest to my neck. Just the right spots to kiss and bite. And the way you kiss all over my body…. how you touch…the way you know how to touch my breasts…and pinch my nipples just right…and how you look into my eyes when you suck on them… fuck you know how wet that makes me.” you continue on in that same tone you use when his fingers are deep inside of you. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself. He takes his free hand and starts to rub on his cock through his sweatpants. Hearing that sweet voice filled with need turns him on so much and it’s been so long without you. 

“And fuck… your hands…both of them are perfect…the way your fingers are so…justt so fucking good…. and the way you know to finger me, not too fast, not too slow, but just right…how you curl your fingers right up into my G spot…and rub my clit…makes me cum so hard on those fingers” you whimper. By now he picks up on the rustling and wet sounds along with your words. You are touching yourself while you talk and you aren’t trying to hide it. And by now, he fully has his cock out and can’t help but stroke himself right along with you, desperate to hear more. 

“And then the way that you... damn the way that you fuck me. You know just how to fuck me. Having you inside of me…it feels so fucking good. The way that you start slow, and you keep going…going so deep ... .it's amazing. Mmmm fuck so amazing, fuck baby.” you start to struggle with your words and the sounds of you rubbing and fingering yourself intensify. He fucking loves when you struggle with your words like that when you are feeling good. It spurs him to start to stroke himself faster.  

“Fuck princess, you sound so so fucking good” he moans out as he strokes and continues to listen.

“But then…when I say I need more…you just… fuck…you just pound right into me… so fucking fast and deep…you pound into me so good until I can’t feel my fucking legs… and you fill me up so good… and the way you rub my clit when you pound into my pussy…your moans when you are deep inside of me…and how you tell me what a good girl I am, and tell me how I feel so good, and tell me how close you are and how you want to feel me squeeze your cock as I am about to cum…and then you go even deeper…and fuckkkkkk….baby it makes me cum so fucking hard. I want that…fuck baby, fuck I want you baby I-” you suddenly stop talking cry out his name and as soon as he hears you cry out he cums. He cums hard all over his hand and throws his head back as he moans out your name. He hasn’t cum with you in so long and it feels so fucking good. He takes a moment to catch his breath as he listens to you do the same. 

“I…I miss that so much. I miss you so much. The way you take care of me after….how you lay me on your chest and kiss me gently and... hold me in your arms. I miss that. I…want it back. I know it's a lot and I know that we shouldn't… but fuck… I don't think I can do without it. I miss that. I miss you.” you whisper to him and the message ends. 

He sits and stares at his phone as his body reacts. Reacts to the desire and desperation he hears in your voice. Your need for him. You need him. You want him. And fuck, he wanted you. Before he could realize what he was doing, he was cleaning himself up, putting on a fresh shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket with his black boots. He grabbed his keys, locked up, and was out the door. You wanted him. You needed him. And he wouldn’t keep you waiting a minute longer.  

[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?

[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.

[shuenkio]

❄️ | 𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑶 𝑴𝒀 𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑮 ⃘᰷᰷ᰰ❤︎

- (close request but ask away /⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\)

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

⃘᰷᰷ᰰ❤︎ Main: 𝗘𝗡𝗛𝗬𝗣𝗘𝗡 (soon +) ✧* ‧͙⁺˚*•*˚⁺⠀

͏ ͏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]

[stop added because that's a lot please do scroll and find 😞]

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

[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. 

[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.

[kdr4m4luv3r]

My first fanfiction and it's Kim Gun Woo x fem!reader

The plot is mostly if not all from My Name (I love that drama so I had to write the backstory like similar)

My Name x Bloodhounds

A/n: I'm actually so exited for this hopefully you like it!!

Warnings: mention of death and fighting

Vows of Vengeance

Chapter One: The Starting Point

You woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing across the nightstand, faint rays of morning light creeping through the half-open blinds. Rubbing your eyes, you glanced at the screen. A notification from your father. Your heart skipped a beat.

“I’ll send you some money today, don’t worry about it.”

You sighed and rolled out of bed, not bothering to reply. It had been weeks since you last saw him, weeks since his silence weighed on you, and it felt like the distance between you had grown farther than any amount of physical space could. The money was always there when you needed it, but it wasn’t the money you were after. It was your father. But he never seemed to show up when you needed him most.

Throwing on your school uniform quickly, you ignored how stiff and uncomfortable it felt against your skin—much like the life you had to live every day. Your father’s reputation had ruined everything for you. No one wanted to be your friend; no one wanted to be near the daughter of a man who had killed someone. The whispers were constant, their cruel words cutting through you like knives. You could feel their eyes following you as you walked through the school halls. Alone. Always alone.

At lunch, you sat by yourself at the farthest corner of the cafeteria, your eyes glued to the table, not daring to look up. Your phone vibrated again, pulling you from your thoughts. Another notification from your father. You didn’t check it, retreating into the music, the only solace you had left. The low hum of the melody was like a shield against the world.

When you returned home, you threw yourself onto the couch and plugged your phone into the charger, letting the music fill the quiet apartment. Closing your eyes, you tried to ignore the gnawing emptiness in your chest. Another notification. This time, it was a payment confirmation. Your father had sent you the money.

You didn’t reply.

And then your phone rang. It was him. You hesitated for a moment before answering, the voice on the other end unmistakable.

“Why haven’t I seen you in three weeks?” you said, your voice colder than you intended. "You promised you’d come see me."

“Y/N, you know it’s not that simple,” your father replied, his voice sounding distant, like he was in another world entirely. “I’ve been busy.”

“You’ve been busy?” you repeated, your voice rising. "Busy killing people, busy making enemies? You don’t get to do this. I don’t even know who you are anymore."

The line went silent for a beat, and then he sighed. “I’m doing this for you, you know.”

“I don’t need your money. I need you to show up. I need you to be my father.” Your voice cracked slightly, but you quickly regained composure.

“I’ll come by later,” he said, trying to reassure you. But you both knew it wasn’t going to happen. He never showed up when he said he would.

Later that night, when you heard a knock at the door, your heart leaped in your chest. You rushed to the door, barely thinking before swinging it open, expecting to see your father standing there. But instead, you were met with the harsh sound of gunfire, your father’s body crumpling before your eyes. The blood soaked the floor, the world around you spinning.

Your father never had a chance to explain himself. His body fell to the ground in front of you, lifeless, leaving nothing but a horrible silence in its wake.

The next morning was just as numb. You found yourself standing at his funeral, the cold wind cutting through you as you stared at the coffin. The weight of his death, the emptiness of everything, was suffocating. People whispered around you, but you couldn’t focus on them. You could barely even think.

Among the mourners, a man in a tailored suit caught your eye. He was tall, his presence commanding attention even in the somber crowd. He didn’t speak, but there was something about him that made your stomach twist. This man was dangerous. You could tell by the way his eyes scanned the room, the way he stood still yet seemed ready to move at any moment.

When the crowd began to disperse, you approached him. Your heart pounded in your chest, but you held your ground.

“Are you his boss?” you asked, your voice tight with emotion.

The man’s eyes briefly flickered over you, and then he nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said, his voice cold but not unkind.

“I need your help,” you said, desperation creeping into your voice. "I need to find out who did this."

The man sighed, his eyes studying you with a mixture of sympathy and something darker. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Please,” you pleaded. "I don’t know where else to go."

He paused for a moment, then gave a slight nod. “Take care of yourself, Y/N,” he said softly before turning away.

That night, you couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness. In the silence of your apartment, you printed out fliers, listing the things you wanted to know. You pasted them around the city, each one an attempt to get closer to the truth, even if it meant putting yourself in danger.

Hours passed, and you were about to give up when your phone buzzed. A message. A number you didn’t recognize.

“I can help you. Meet me at the old warehouse on 5th Street.”

When you arrived, three men stood in the shadows, waiting for you. At first, you thought they were there to help, but as the conversation unfolded, you realized they were just using you for the money your father had sent. The beating that followed was brutal, and for a moment, you thought you might not make it out alive.

But then, in the distance, you saw the man from the funeral—your father’s boss. He appeared out of nowhere, stepping forward and taking down the men one by one. His presence was commanding, and just like that, they were all on the ground.

He offered you a hand to help you stand, and though you were bruised and bloodied, there was something in his eyes that made you feel like you weren’t alone. He didn’t speak, but his silence said everything. There was a bond here—a connection forged through violence, loss, and survival.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice trembling from exhaustion and fear.

“Lee Joon,” he replied simply. “And I can help you get what you want, but it’ll cost you.”

You nodded slowly. You didn’t know where this would lead, but there was only one thing you were sure of: you were going to find out who killed your father, no matter what it took.

[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.