#now I wanna write that fic about the fire again but i cannot write that thing. its so like? outside my perspective its hard to pace right

[httpscomexe]

Forbidden Secret Desire 3

Summary: You’re finally starting to fit in when you freak out in front of everyone. But twenty side eyes later and a lot of forgiveness from your friend Kurt, you discover a scary secret.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) Panic attack, manipulation, hidden cameras, finally not as much awkwardness, social dissociation, being in the social eye. Logan is an official warning starting this chapter as approved by the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) because Logan is a DRUG. PLEASE BE AWARE that this will be a NON-CON fic. Do NOT get attached if you do not like non-consensual fiction. I will not change my fic plans because somebody decided not to read the warnings. Thank you.

Word Count: 4542 (All other Chapters here) Chapter 4

Tags: @remmyj10 @sammyluvsfics @badbishsblog @dickmaster3000

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again. 

Enjoy your Forbidden Secret Desire...

“Alright, everyone, find a partner.” You shouldn’t be surprised that Logan was your teacher for your third period class. You remembered Hank and Logan talking about it the other day in the lab, but it still shocked you for some reason, maybe it was something else that surprised you, like the fact that he doesn’t just let everyone do whatever so he could get it over with. You knew he would be the substitute for both your third and fifth period classes for the rest of this week, and only because Xavier was out on some mission. The thing that bothered you the most now, was that you couldn’t partner up with anyone, and you knew no one would want to partner up with you. So you just watched as everyone else excitedly ran towards their best friends.

“Wanna be my partner?” A hand lands on your shoulder, making you flinch a little. It was Kurt of course. “We have a new student today and my normal partner is their guide.” He explains.

“Uh, yea sure. Cool.” Cool? 

“Cool,” he smiles, his little fangs showing under his lips.

“Everyone have a partner?” Everyone nods, including you. “Good, find a place on the floor and sit in front of your partner.” You follow Kurt to an open spot, there were only about ten other kids in the class so it wasn’t too hard. “Once you’re sitting with your partner, find three things you both have in common. You have five minutes to talk amongst yourselves, time starts now.” You realise he’s reading every instruction from a pamphlet, that helped it make more sense. “Also apparently the three things you have in common cannot be common questions such as colours, animals, etcetera.” He finishes, placing the pamphlet down on the teachers desk. “Now your time starts now.” He picks up his phone, and starts the timer.

“So uh. What are some uncommon questions then?” You shrug, trying to think of a question with him. Why do they have to be uncommon Xavier? What the fuck? You wonder and listen to other students' conversations, but everyone is trying to figure out a question just like you and Kurt.

Your eyes turned back to him, and his index fingers were rubbing his temples, it was actually frustrating him. So now you understand the task. It’s almost impossible to come up with a question that no one commonly asks, so of course, thinking is stressing everyone out. It was anger management after all.

“If you were a unicorn, what colour would you want to be? I’d probably wanna be white.” You tell him, shrugging a little, hoping it would calm his frustration.

“Oh yea. I’d probably be white also, I get tired of being blue.” He chuckles a little.

“Okay if you were a dragon, would you breathe fire or something else?”

“I'd probably want to breathe ice.”

“I think it would be cool to be able to choose.” You tell him, sitting back up and crossing your arms in your lap.

“If you were forced to do one subject for the rest of your life, what would you choose?” He asks you, understanding the project now.

“Definitely science.”

“Same, it’s a more fun subject.”

“Especially compared to anger management.” You joke, making him chuckle quietly. “Okay, one more question.” You prop your elbows on your thighs as you look at him. The rule is no common questions, so Xavier wants us to ask uncommon questions, with common answers.

“If everything in the world could only be flavoured one thing, what flavour would you choose?”

“I would choose vanilla. It’s plain, I can't get tired of it.”

“I would probably choose green apples, but not too sour.”

“How about the scent?”

“Scent I would choose vanilla.” He tells you, one again laughing to himself.

“Same, and there’s our three questions.” You turn your head to look at the projector, there was about a minute left and Logan was going around and asking groups how everything was doing. In another direction, a kid who could harness fire had smoke coming from the back of his head as he thought of another question.

“Alright and how are you two doing?” Logan asks Kurt and then his eyes also move to you.

“Good, we just finished.”

“No common questions?” You both shake your heads. “Good, you’re the only pair to finish so far.” He mumbles, moving onto the next group.

“So what’re you doing after your last class?” Kurts asks you, leaning forward to ask the question, his eyes trained on you.

“I’m supposed to help Hank- Mr. McCoy with another project.”

“You do that everyday.” He leans back on his palms.

“Yea, I never have anything better to do. Unless something comes up then I cancel.”

“So he doesn’t ask you for help? You just kind of pop in?” You nod.

“Unless he asks me to. Then it can be important… it’s usually stupid.” He smiles slightly.

“So my friends and I are having a little sleepover in my room tonight.”

“Oh…” You move your hands together, once again your thumb begins to pick at your skin.

“Yea, it would be cool if you came by. We're gonna have pizza, some drinks, and we're gonna watch a movie.”

“What movie?” You ask, the timer reaching zero as Logan walks back to the desk to turn it off.

“Whatever we pick out of the hat. Last week it was Big Hero 6.” He shrugs.

“Uh, yea. I’ll try, what time?”

“Around 9PM is normally when the others show up.” You nod in understanding, then Logan speaks up.

“Okay so, it says here that you guys are all supposed to stand up and share your groups three questions.” He tells everyone, reading the pamphlet out loud. “But I don’t wanna hear it. So the rest of the ten minutes in class is to yourselves. Enjoy.” He tosses the papers back on the desk and the students immediately begin talking amongst themselves. Talking about anything they could come up with. The news, food, anything, while you and Kurt stood back up, he walked to his friend group expecting you to follow. But you only make your way back to your desk to sit on your phone for the remainder of class. Logans eyes settling on you, and you know you’re not supposed to be on your phone, but he doesn’t bother making a scene, instead, his eyes rest on you, occasionally moving to other students to see what they’re doing or moving to look at his email, but the majority of the ten minutes, all he could look at was you.

And then the bell finally rang, and everyone collected their items in their bags before leaving the classroom for lunch.

Normally for lunch you’d just sit in your room on your bed, finishing any work you had to finish and if you were hungry you’d either tough it out or you would’ve ordered something before your third class ended. Today, Kurt changed your plans.

“Hey, we ordered extra, we were hoping you would also sit with us today?” He asks, holding out a box of food that smelt amazing. So you nod, and follow behind him to the little area his friends were sitting. They all smiled up at you from their spots on the floor, and you joined silently. This dude just bribed you with food.

They all chat amongst themselves, and you simply poke at your food with your plastic fork, occasionally taking a small bite. You’ve never been the type of person who’s able to eat an entire meal in front of people you’ve never spoken to without feeling awkward.

They talked about class, and classwork, and talked a little about hanging out in Kurt's room tonight, but that was about it. Occasionally, there would be an inside joke that you didn’t understand, but you didn’t mind. You kept your eyes on your food, and that was it.

“So what about you?” Jean nudges you, making you look up to see everyone's eyes on you. What was the question? You ask yourself, panic rising in your chest.

“Yea, Y/N. Where would you be if you didn’t have to be here?” Alex, you’re a saviour.

“Uh, well…” You think about it for a moment, not sure where you’d wanna be. Definitely not with your family, you don’t have a home or caring family outside of the mansion. Hell you didn’t even have friends inside the mansion. “I don’t really know.”

“Oh come on. Paris? Mexico?” Scott- or Cyclops asks you.

“Oh, like where do I want to visit?”

“Or live.” Kurt cuts in, smiling at you.

“I would choose Russia.” You shrug, and they all stare at you.

“Imma be honest I was expecting the Maldives or some sort of beach.” Jean laughs a little. “But why Russia? There’s nothing there but snow and vodka.” You nod.

“It’s where I was born…”

“No way…” Alex scoffs. “You don’t look Russian. And you’ve only been here for what? Three years?”

“Almost.” You sigh a little. “About two years and eight months.”

“You literally never talk to anyone.” Jean says out loud, and you look up at her, your eyes daring her to continue. “How do you not have an accent?” Rude. Your eyes squint slightly.

“Okay, guys, next subject.” Kurt says, a little chuckle in the back of his throat. “Actually, what kind of pizzas are you guys wanting for tonight? I’m ordering this time.” He takes out his phone and opens a pizza ordering app.

“Can we get Hawaaian?”

“No, come on, meat lovers!”

“That's gross, why not just normal pepperoni?”

“Well I don’t like sauce.”

“I like alfredo.”

“Guys come on, just choose two. I’m getting two pizzas.”

“So get Hawaiian and meat lovers.”

“What about sauce?”

“Just get a sauce cup, or like five sauce cups? I love sauce.”

“Well I hate it.”

It was too much. Too much back and fourth, and you honestly couldn’t stand it. It was making your head whirr and your brain was pounding as they argue about something as simple as pizza. Then they start arguing about sodas and it’s just all this back and fourth. It was too much.

“Hey wait where are you going?” Alex is the first one to ask about your sudden leave as you get up from the ground and throw away your trash, but you don’t walk back towards them. “She’s not answering me.” He tells the rest of the group, as if it wasn’t already obvious.

You just don’t think you would’ve been able to muster one more word from their lips.

“Hey! Y/N, wait!” You hear Kurt's voice call after you and footsteps behind you, and your face heats up as he gets closer, your arms crossing as you try to console yourself. Then his fucking hand touching your shoulder and he turns you around, one hand on each of your shoulders as he tries to keep you steady, but it only freaks you the fuck out.

“Do NOT touch me!” You shout. The entire eating area goes quiet as each pair of eyes lands on you. Shit.

“Hey, uh… Calm down a little…”

“Do not tell me what to do…” You threaten, but it comes out as more of a warning.

“Well uh… you’re probably freaking everyone out with your hands right now…” What?

In your frustration, you hadn’t even realised you had pushed him off of you, his hands were up in defence, but his shirt had a burn hole in it that wasn’t there before.

Looking down at your hands, there was a red and blue glow emitting from your fingers all the way through your veins. You could only imagine how your eyes looked as you stared down at your hands in embarrassment. Oh, right. You can’t control your powers when you’re stressed, frustrated, sad, mad, happy. You always have to be just… neutral.

“Ms. Y/L/N!” Another voice calls and Professor Lehnsherr approaches you with a soft smile. “Come with me so you can cool down.” He tells you, gently placing his hand on your back to lead you out of the eating area before anything escalates.

“Alright.” He sighs, and closes your bedroom door behind you. “Want to tell me what happened back there?” You shake your head. It would’ve sounded pathetic. “That’s okay. Oh honey, don’t sit down.” He holds a hand out to grab your arm but doesn’t, knowing damned well he would burn himself if he touched you. “You’ll burn the sheets.” He reminds you, and you take a few steps away from the bed, but bring your hands up to your face to rub your temples, attempting with all of your effort to control your breathing. Got it, so personal questions and constant back and forth conversations stress you out. You tell yourself. “So… I think you should spend the rest of the day to yourself and-”

“No. No, I have to go to class, remember I said I can’t skip anymore just because I can’t fix myself.” You tell him, reminding him of the first time you freaked out and made the promise.

“Y/N, it’s not about fixing yourself, it’s about controlling your emotions.”

“Well everyone else is able to! Why can’t I?”

“Because everyone in this school associates themselves with others.” You hate to say it, but he was right. Everyone else is used to public stress, because they constantly have it.

“Well I still cannot and will not skip the rest of the day.”

“Fine then. Skip just this fourth period, then go to fifth period, but if you feel like you’re not up for it, then send me a text and I’ll send your substitute a text also so he knows you’re not coming.” You don’t say anything. “Sounds good?”

“Yea. Yes. Uh huh, that- yes… that sounds good.”

“Okay, I’ll let Hank know you’re not up for fourth period, then like I said.” He makes his way to the door and holds the handle. “Let me know if you need the entire rest of the day off. Okay?” You nod and give him an ‘mhm,’ before he finally leaves.

Okay what normally calms you down..? You wonder, looking around your room and heading towards your desk to search for the little paper you write those types of things on. There was painting your nails, colouring books, sitting in your dark closet because there’s no sounds in there, and then there was a nice shower or bath. Cold, shower or bath of course. You decide you should just do that.

You roll down the sleeves of the jacket that you’ve had on all day, and then unzip it and throw it off into your dirty laundry basket. The bell for lunch had just rung, so the sound of other students chatting in the halls made way into your room. How you wish the walls and doors were thicker. You wonder as you begin to slide off your leggings, also discarding them in your laundry basket before walking into your bathroom and turning on the faucet, letting the water run cold as you step into the tub with your hair up so you could just relax in the water.

As soon as you’re done, you wrap a towel around your body and step out, perfect timing as the fourth class ends and the bell rings throughout the school walls. Then there’s that annoying whirring sound again as you stand in front of your desk, going through the clothes you’d swore you would go through that morning.

After choosing a plain blue sweater and another pair of black leggings, along with your matching set of panties and a bra, you hear yet another clicking sound, the same you heard from last night. You don’t remember hearing it earlier, so you again assume it’s your neighbours, doing something in their room during the ten minute passing period. Annoying. But you wonder what they could possibly be doing with a camera that loud, and that often. It did only start yesterday, so you hoped it would bore them out eventually.

After what felt like a thousand more clicks, on top of getting fully dressed, you decide you’d be able to make it to class. Your nerves were cool, and you didn’t feel as frustrated as before.

So after about a minute with your palm lying on the door handle, you finally had the courage to open the door with about two minutes left to make it to your fifth period, meditation.

Walking back into the halls felt like you were a fox on a bunny farm. All eyes were on you, and as usual, everyone was whispering about you. The only difference between now and before was they didn’t even try to hide that they were talking about you. If you hadn’t been so used to this scene, you would’ve already freaked the fuck out. So instead, you easily and quickly make it to your first class, having enough of the staring eyes.

“Everyone brought their mat today like they were asked to on Friday?” Logan, also substituting for your fifth period.

Everyone takes their mats out of their bag, including you and everyone rolls it out on the floor in their assigned spot. Surprising considering there was a sub. Then again, it was Wolverine. You sit in your assigned spot as well, but a little further away from everyone. Not everyone had been there for the scene that had unfolded during lunch of course, some people were inside the cafeteria. But you knew that by now the word had spread inside and outside of the mansion.

“Today, we’re going to just relax.” His voice softens a little, becoming nearly soothing. “First I’m going to have you all do some stretches though, so will Jean please come to the front to lead the stretches?” He asks, watching as Jean stands with her mat and faces the entire class on the floor before beginning the stretches, the entire class of about thirty people this time copying her.

You watch as she moves to lie on her stomach, and you follow her movements slowly, placing your palms in front of you and pushing up to stretch, then you follow along all the rest of her simple stretches before she finishes and moves her mat back to her original spot.

“Okay, now here’s the video Xavier said to play.” A video on youtube comes onto the projector screen of an elderly woman sitting on a purple mat with her legs crossed, then she speaks into her camera, asking everyone to copy what she does, then the video goes silent for a moment before the sounds of waterfalls and chirping birds play, attempting to put the viewers mind at ease as everyone's eyes close, to apparently rid their eyes of distractions.

You’re ten minutes in. It’s actually peaceful. You tell yourself with your eyes closed, still sitting with your legs crossed on the floor and your hands on your knees.

“Here.” You hear a voice behind you, prompting you to open your eyes. “No, no. Close your eyes and face forward.” He tells you, and you do. He’s quiet enough so only you could hear him over the waterfall and birds. Then you feel his palm press gently on the middle of your back, causing you to straighten your posture as you involuntarily try to escape his touch. “I heard what happened. I didn’t expect you to show up to fifth.” He admits, letting his palm rest on your lower back, just above your ass, and you take a deep breath. “How’re you feeling now?”

“Fine.” You whisper back, matching his quiet tone so as not to interrupt anyones meditation.

“That’s good. I was worrying about you. I noticed you skipped the fourth period.” You hear him move next to you, and you open your eyes just enough so he doesn’t notice. Instead of kneeling, he was now crouching next to you on your right. His left hand moves to your left shoulder. “But I’m glad you’re alright. Just let me know if you ever need anything.” Emphasising “Anything,”  making it clear that he’d kick ass just for someone looking at you wrong.

You nod slightly, then in your mostly closed eyes, you see him move closer to you. Flinching as his left hand gently holds the side of your head, your lips parting just slightly as you feel his lips touch your temple. A gesture that was supposed to feel sweet, but everything in you was saying it was sinister. Of course, being you, you throw the red flag out of your head and settle on him just being a good friend. I mean he’s your professor. Surely it wouldn’t be more than that.

Right?

The meditation session ends and everyone rolls up their mats and are immediately glued back to their phones or talking to their friends obnoxiously. You also of course are guilty, turning on your phone to no notifications to reply to, as usual- Wait. I have a text? You open your phone to see the text with Kurt's name right next to it.

Kurt Wagner: I’m hoping you’re still coming tonight?

You: I don’t know… I’m sorry about what happened earlier.

Kurt Wagner: Hey it was an accident, and I’ve been meaning to throw that shirt away anyways.

You: Oh, well I hope it was just the shirt. I didn’t burn you right?

Kurt Wagner: Luckily no. You’re such a worry bug.

You: Sorry…

“Wait, where’s the pizza?” Alex is the first to notice as they all walk into the room, everyone eyes first landing on you sitting on Kurt's bed with your legs crossed.

“Well, turns out, Y/N doesn’t like pizza. So I got KFC, McDonalds, and Taco Bell.” Kurt explains, hopping off the bed and retrieving his TV remote. You didn’t even have a TV in your room. At least not anymore. “I know each of you likes at least one of these, so enjoy.” He tells them, turning back to see you snacking on a quesadilla.

“So what movie are we watching then?” Scott asks, grabbing a solid ten chicken pieces from the KFC bucket. “Have you guys pulled from the hat?”

“We have not.” He tells them, then disappears in his closet, reappearing a minute later with some fancy tophat that makes you smile a little. “Who wants to choose from the hat?”

“Make Y/N.”

“Yea, this is her first time, let her.”

“Just don’t let Scott choose, his hand is a magnet for Toy Story, and if I watch it again I’ll know the entire script by broken heart.”

“Okay, okay.” Kurt chuckles, holding the hat out in front of you and giving you an encouraging smile. “Lets let Y/N choose tonight then.” He says, and you angle your arm slightly to reach into the tophat and pull out the first piece of paper your fingers touch. “What did you get?”

They all stare at you as you open the little paper. “Finding Dory.” Your eyebrow quirks a little.

“Finally, we’ve been waiting for someone to choose that one.” Jean tells you and you roll the paper back up, handing it to Kurt and he puts it back in the hat then sets the hat on his desk.

“Alright, let's get this party started!”

Was the last thing anyone had said for over an hour, aside from Alex asking Jean if she was crying when baby Dory popped on the TV. So pretty much, the entire hang out was amazing so far. No complaints, no fighting, and best of all, you didn’t receive a single sidewards look.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, drawing your attention from the movie and you turn the brightness on your phone down as if you’re in a movie theatre to check the notification. A text from Professor Lehnsherr.

Metal Head: Have you received my email? I’ve been worried.

You: Sorry I’ve been busy. I’m fine now though. My computer is in my room so I haven’t seen it.

Metal Head: Well when you get the chance, please check the attachments I’ve sent you asap.

You: Alright.

“Everything okay?” Kurt asks, crawling close to you as you begin to stand up from the floor.

“Yea, just Mr. Lehnsherr asked me to check my email asap, which also means now.”

“You’re probably the only person who doesn’t just call him Magneto.” He adds on. “Can I come with you? I’ve never been in your room.”

“It’s nothing special, but sure.” You both stand up, and you head for the door with him behind you. Opening the door and heading straight to your room.

As soon as you get inside and close the door behind Kurt, you open the laptop that’s sitting on your bed and you punch in the password to check your emails.

“It’s actually really… woodsy in here.” Kurt tells you, looking around your room in astonishment. “It’s funny how every student's room has a different vibe, yours smells like pine.” He sits next to you on the bed, the side of his thigh touching yours.

“He just sent me a bunch of attachments, he’s been really into my work on nanotech so whenever he has a question he emails them to me.” You shrug, typing back a response to his question saying ‘does nanotech make a sound?’

As you type out the response and finish sending it. Kurt speaks again. “What is that whirring sound?” He asks, looking down at you and you look up at him after closing your screen. Your faces uncomfortably close.

“I actually have no idea. It’s been happening since last night, I just assumed whoever's my neighbour got something that makes that sound or maybe the AC is acting up.” You shrug and he stands up, his pointy ears twitching slightly as he picks up your build-a-bear.

“Nobody is in that room… The student who was sleeping there left a few months ago.” He tells you and you slowly get off the bed. Approaching him as he holds the bear. “Y/N… Where did you get this?” You gently take the bear in your hands.

“From the mall… There’s a build-a-bear shop there.”

“The day you went with Professor Howlett?”

“Yes.” You squint your eyes in confusion. “Was this always there…?” You mumble.

“I don’t know, was it?” Kurt asks, looking down at the little bear's right eye which seemed to have a spec of a glowing red spot on it.

Some panic gets to you, setting deep in your stomach, making you want to vomit. Who would put a camera in your bear? You ask yourself, and Kurt verbally asks the same question. “I don’t know… I’m going to bring it to Professor Howlett though… He’s the one that helped me stuff it.” Kurt only nods, and you wrap the bear in a shirt before putting it on the shelf in your closet and closing the door, leaving the camera to watch the dark…

[thezombieprostitute]

A Change is Coming

💐Send a whole bouquet!💐Write a surprise drabble or create a moodboard for them. 

This is an idea I had floating around and I don’t know if I’ll ever get to use it on a full fic so I will dress it up in daisies for you, dearest Zombie. Hoping it isn't too dark or bloody.

Warnings: Injury and Blood.

You never thought you’d be a runner. How often did you see those people in their short shorts and loose tanks, toned legs and sweaty foreheads, bouncing with their earbuds in, arms pumping, knees lifting. You could never be one of them... 

Well, now you are. It’s a change. A big change. One long-needed. One made out of fear and panic. 

You have to get healthier. You have to try. You’re starting to feel your age, really, you feel beyond it.  

You tried other things. Yoga was too slow and breathy. Weight-training a bit too heavy and too much. And the gym in general sent you running with sore muscles and no less self-esteem issues. 

Running. Rather, jogging. You’re starting off easy. A slow pace through the trail. You don’t need to worry about the gym bros and their judgment or the girls in their tight leggings filming for Tiktok. It’s just you and nature and oof, your knees! 

Two weeks now. That’s an achievement. Sort of. Two weeks but you gotta keep it up. No time to start patting yourself on the back until you see results. 

Your breath is harried and burning. Your fitbit buzzes at you, slow down. You ease up as you come up and incline. Your thighs are on fire. You wait until you reach another dip before you speed up again. Your heart pumps hotly and you feel that odd calm that comes at your peak. You feel almost good. You feel-- 

Something catches your ankle. Something you couldn’t see as you kept your eyes six feet ahead. At first, the pain doesn’t occur to you, not as you’re sent stumbling forward, crashing, arms flailing as you land on the leaf-strewn trail.  

You lay on your stomach, panting. You groan and roll over, sitting up as you spot the obstruction that tripped you up. A wire tied across the path. It can’t be a coincidence. It’s a trap. 

You look down at your ankle, the one that met the wire. You nearly scream as you see the gash and how your foot hangs to one side. Then you feel it. Your adrenaline courses but cannot numb the agony that creeps up from your injured leg. You hardly feel the scrapes all over your arms and knees as you stare at the torn flesh. 

You babble dumbly. What do you do? How do you get out of here? You’re too afraid to move. Oh god. What’s happened to you? Why you? 

Your hands shake as you hold them before you in shock. You hear a rustle of leaves and the wire slackens. You blink and stair as a man walks across the path, winding it up around his hand. He turns to face you as he unhooks it from the other side. 

He tuts as he comes closer, looming over you. He wears a hoodie and a beanie, a dark stubbly beard across his jaw and cheeks, his blue eyes the only bright thing about him. He tilts his head and squat before you as he examines your ankle with a suck of his teeth. 

“Yikes, that really did a number on you,” he comments, “won’t be walking this one off.” 

You whimper, terrified. He’s unfazed by the sight of your blood. In fact, he’s not bothered at all by the scene before him. By the way he holds the wire, you know he set it up. 

He looks you in the face and tilts his head, “you’re not the one I wanted...” he pulls the knapsack off his shoulder and tucks away the wire inside, “but you’ll do.” 

He swings the bag over his back and moves over you. You cower as he bends to hook his arms under yours. He braces you, the smell of the forest clinging to him. 

“Now, you wanna keep your weight off the right foot, so work with me,” he girds, “you’ll be better off if you do everything I say.” 

You shudder and suck in air as he makes you stand. Your toe hits the ground and jars your ankle. You yelp and cling to him out of instinct. 

“Keep that foot up, sweetheart,” he warns as he turns to stretch his arm across your back, “we got a long way to go.” 

Thanks so much for this, Roo! I really appreciate it!

Is it bad that my first thought is "he's selling me to Kemp!" 😅

Kemp has to back out of the chase for a while, too familiar to too many people. So he hires a few people to do his hunting for him. He doesn't care how they get the girls so long as the girls are alive and pretty.

So Curtis relies on his trapper skills. He finds his prey, gets her usual routine figured out, and sets his trap. But he catches you instead. Pretty enough, Curtis thinks. Can still get my payday.

The trek back to his truck is, of course, slow and painful. You vomit at least once from the pain. Sitting in the truck doesn't help much, either. At least he's got some medical supplies there and starts treating the ankle though you throw up again from the pain.

By the time you get to your destination much of the shock has worn off and the tears are flowing. He helps you limp inside. You know you should scream, try to fight, something, anything but with how casually he treats your pain you get the impression he could make it so much worse without care.

When you're sitting down again, your captor calls out for someone named Kemp. Kemp walks in, sees you and says, "I said 'pretty' girls, Curtis. I'm not buying this one."

"She's pretty enough for your clients. You can always sell her parts with someone else's photo."

"I have a reputation to keep amongst my clients. One hint that they're not getting what they ordered I could be ruined."

"Fine, just pay me half but you're keeping her."

Kemp considers you. "She does seem rather docile. Maybe I could find another use for her besides meat."

Should the story continue? 😆

[rapha-reads]

IWTV rewatch

(s1 finale… Ready for pain and blood? Let's do this. *grabs tissues*)

Season 1 episode 7 [The Thing Lay Still] - part 1/3

- Oof, opening with the Moonlight Sonata, how to put you right in the mood.

- Daniel side-eyeing Rashid/Armand…

- [Daniel] "Can an immortal meet mortality?" - weeeell, to paraphrase our favourite rockstar, "the sun or the fire might kill me, but then again, it might not".

- [Louis] "Decapitation. He confided that to me one blood-drunken night in Bâton Rouge." - and then Louis proceeded to never forget it. I want to know more about their nights of hunting and partying. There's like, 80 miles (is that roughly 100km? I'm French, I don't know miles) between NOLA and Bâton Rouge, even if they're vampires, that's still a little trip that could be special when they have all of New Orleans to hunt (an anniversary? A date? A special performance of Macbeth or Puccini? Someone needs to write a fic)…

- [Louis] "Add to the toxic air a new ever-present paranoia, and now, you are with us." - kinda wish I wasn't tbh. "The toxicity, in my city"… Ahem.

- [Louis] "Lestat de Lioncourt. 179 years in the Savage Garden. 148 years the blood-drinker, the bringer of death… the deer come up the trail." - ooof, first point, Lestat, or at least, Louis' version of Lestat in this recollection, oozes danger and predator. He looks, feels and moves dangerously. And acts unhinged. His words heavily accented. Go figure if he really was that scattered and angry at that time, or if Louis' anxiety, trauma and guilt color the scene that way.

Second point, another mention of the Savage Garden! Made by Louis this time, so one could imagine that Lestat told him about it, that they had a conversation or more about the subject during those 30 years together, given that the theme is a Lestat special.

- Ooooh, the unholy family moving and acting together as one, totally in synch! Say what you want about how toxic they are for each other, it can't be denied that they are a family that knows each other by heart.

- Hey, who turned off Moonlight Sonata? Now I'm left wondering if it was extra or intradiegetic music. A disk playing in NOLA in 1940 or in Dubai in 2022? Can't decide.

- [Lestat] "Enough! Two in one night. Dolls, Bibles, letters become torches and pitchforks. We have to leave this place. We have to leave New Orleans." - should have left 10 years ago when Grace decided to kill off Louis… I wanna say better late than never but given that people are actually openly seeking your house to ask for healing and whatnot… Y'all are in danger. And obviously it's Lestat so there's no leaving discreetly. Gotta make a show out of it.

- Looooove Daniel getting distracted by Armand's presence. Cannot wait for some more Devil's Minion.

- Hello social commentary, segregated tramway, another slight to Louis and Claudia. I love the layers.

- [Claudia] "'You share a coffin with him.' [Louis] 'I don't talk in my sleep.' [Claudia] 'You share a heart with him.' [Louis] 'I can cut it off!' [Claudia] 'No, Louis. You can't. You spend an hour with him and you're breathing in sync together.'"

Thank you for confirming that they've still got it bad for each other, Claudia. Love the way the heartbeat starts getting louder, love the way Lestat can feel Louis looking at him and immediately looks back.

[Claudia] "'He'll know. It'll only work if you give in. Give him all your heart and I'll do the rest.' [Louis] 'I can't do that. I'll lose myself in him.' [Claudia] 'Leave a little shelf inside there for me. I'll jump back in and pull you out before I kill him. Can you do that for us, Louis? Louis?' [Louis] 'Yeah, I can do it.'"

*screams* First the wink and Lestat obviously seeking Louis' attention. Then Claudia directly asking Louis to keep a part of his heart for her, all that she's ever wanted, to be put first. Then her overestimating her pull on Louis and underestimating the intensity of Lestat and Louis' relationship. And then Louis very clearly knowing he cannot resist his feelings for Lestat no matter what. And finally Louis outright lying to Claudia saying he can pull it through while already knowing it will destroy him, have you seen his face in the last shot before leaving the tram? He knows he can't but he'll still try and maybe do it, but he'll lose a part of himself, and he's already grieving for it.

Then again. That's 2022 Louis describing the scene and the conversation, with the hindsight of 80 years or more (I'm bad at maths) of knowing what he's lost and how he lost it and how much of himself he's lost. Maybe 1940 Louis wasn't thinking of that at all.

*screams a little bit more* Maybe if y'all learn to openly communicate, we wouldn't be currently plotting a murder. Maybe.

- [Louis] "'What about Greece? Cradle of Western civilisation.' [Lestat] 'Sun worshippers, hot springs…. Those Who Must Be Kept.' [Louis] 'What was that?' [Lestat] 'Nothing.'"

Yeah, absolutely nothing. Don't mind that. It's really not important. Not at all about to come back and bite you all in the neck.

Things that mean nothing for show-only and everything for book readers… *jumps around the room in excitement*

Do we think Marius is still in Greece in 1940? If Lestat still meets him around 1789-1790, it's been a century and a half, he's definitely moved them somewhere else.

Love how Lestat's face goes vacant and momentarily dreamy when he starts thinking about Akasha. You can tell she still lingers in his mind.

- [Claudia] "'Bach. Always back to Bach.' [Lestat] 'Bach is beyond you.' [Claudia] 'Yes, the music of the master race is… not made for these mongrel ears.' [Lestat] 'You irritate me. Your very presence irritates me.' [Claudia] 'I came to make peace with you, Uncle Les.' [Lestat] 'Mm. Sister, daughter, infant death, you must think me an idiot.' [Louis] 'Could you two please just…?' [Claudia] 'Musique française pour les mains françaises ?'"

Pleaaase I love them. Toxic mother-daughter relationship, it's like looking into a mirror. Love all of Claudia's punches. Bailey's French is really good. And love how Louis immediately moves in to turn the pages for them.

- Oooh, so the party idea is not Lestat's but part of Claudia's murder scheme? How delightful!! Like father like daughter I guess, how they resemble each other so much. And love how Lestat starts by being against it and then gets slowly seduced by the idea.

- Oh, goddamn fucking bloody Tom Anderson is still bloody fucking alive. Kill hiiiiiim, please kill him. Wonder why he hasn't led a mob to their doors yet, with how he literally has known them since 1910 and has a pic showing them still as they are. Too chicken, Tom? Or too New Orleans, rather not know and keep going as is? Oh, I see, tempted to make your own deal with the "Devil". Ha. Idiot.

- [Louis] "The weird brothers and their doll-like sister were coming out." - I just like this line. Tells about a whole story hidden behind the main story.

- "Let the flesh instruct the mind." - now that is one hell of a line.

- Lestat playing his bloody Marie-Antoinette fantasy is simultaneously so bad taste and so hilarious.

- Their outfits are GORGEOUS. And the white is making Louis' green eyes even greener.

- [Louis] "The blood was everywhere. The veins and arteries of a few hundred hearts ringing out like air sirens, drowning out the rhythm section of the hired band."

I love how Louis' narration is almost inaudible beneath the sounds of heartbeats.

- Lmao, Lestat has groupies everywhere he goes.

- [Louis] "A cascade of feelings came over me as I watched him sponge up the adoration. I wanted him dead. I wanted him all to myself. The fasting was a mistake. I wasn't thinking clearly. Something was off."

You never think clearly around Lestat, Lou babe. Case in point, the besotted face you were just making at him, that he was returning to you (where are Sam and Jacob's awards), and the fact that suddenly you can't even tell Claudia's mental voice from - oh, a wild Antoinette appears. Yeah, something is off.

- When can we get rid of Tom Anderson. Soon? "It's got to be one of those tricks that you and your fag pederast satanic trio got in your pocket." Ugh, he looks so proud of his dumb line. Please tell me we're draining him soon. Thank you Louis.

- Aaaah, a balcony scene, aaaaaah! Aaaah, the lightning of cigarettes, aaaaaaah! Aaaaah, Lestat being emotional and genuine, aaaaaah!

Time to sing Sam Reid's praises:

"I'm going to miss this place. There's not an inch of this city that wasn't built from the fierce wilderness that surrounds it. Hurricanes, floods, fevers. The damp climate on every painted sign, every stone facade. High windows, through which enamelled bits of civilisation glitter. Silhouettes emerging, wandering out to catch a silent flash of lightning. The silky warmth of summer rain. Desperately alive… and desperately fragile. The hunger has me too, it seems."

*pterodactyl screech*

It's the way his voice wavers with barely restrained emotion. It's the tears glittering in his eyes. It's the way he never stops looking at Louis. It's the way New Orleans was, is and continues to be a metaphor for him, for Louis and for their relationship, "I am she, she is me".

The way his voice breaks on "desperately alive", because at the end of it, that's what Lestat, little Wolfkiller, who refused Magnus' bite and was forced into the darkness, who rejected the idea of a coven, who gazed upon the Mother of all vampires, Lestat who is constantly struggling to run away from his pain, trauma and loneliness, that's what he is, desperate and alive and desperately alive. And so afraid to show his real self to Louis and be rejected for it that he immediately makes a joke out of his deeply genuine moment.

And the way Louis refuses to engage with this moment also says a lot about where Louis is at at this stage. Refusing to give in fully, rejecting the true emotions, running away from both Lestat's love (because that's what it's about) and his own love (the shame and the guilt and the fear)… Refusing to open up his heart and thus forcefully closing down any door that could be opened.

Imagine for a moment that Louis had answered Lestat's feelings in truth? What would it have changed, in what ways? Or would it not have changed anything, because neither he nor Lestat are in control of the narrative at that point and Claudia holds the power? And what would Louis responding in kind and giving in to Lestat's depth and his own emotions look like? It would be interesting to explore it…

ep1 | ep2 | ep3 | ep4 | ep5 | ep6 | part 2 | part 3

[resident-gay-bitch]

Hello there, I’m in genuine need of more fandom / online friends so like, if you also want more friends, here’s some info about me and maybe we can be friends? <3

My names Jay, I’ve recently picked it for myself (and then realised I could have possibly had an even cooler name Bo which is the shortened of my middle name and now im cursing myself for not realising it sooner and questioning weather or not to do a switch cause idk if Bo or Jay suits me better?!!). I’m 20 and FtM, and I go by he/they pronouns primarily but I also don’t mind if you use any others :)

I’m also Australian so yeah idk if that’s a selling point or not

Oh and I’m labelled as queer, I guess, but dude sexuality is confusing. I’ve recently been going down the aromantic / asexual spiral of questioning but I’m so unsure of everything I really suck at telling the difference between platonic and romantic feelings. I’m also somewhere in the sapphic spectrum I believe. So if you can relate to this mindfuck in any way that would also be rad.

I write fan fic for the Marauders Fandom (sirius is my everything and I’m also a tall sirius truther) and also Stranger Things but primarily Steddie for that tbh.

I’m also in the Good Omens fandom, as well as a few others more casually and don’t write fic for them :) recently I’ve been starting to watch JJK cause my best friend is really into it

My favorite two movies of all time are Rocky Horror Picture Show and Cars. That probably tells you a lot about me to be honest so do with that as you will :)

My favorite musicians are David Bowie at No. 1 (my lord and saviour), Maya Hawke, Hozier, Radiohead (im not a red flag I promise), Conan (I’m seeing him on fri wtf), ooo and I’ll add SOAD cause I’m really into them this month. But it’s ever changing really and there are too many to choose from, I’d say they’re my most listened to though :) I am chronically listening.

Uh I’m gonna spitball some more facts about me this is kinda hard:

I’m the eldest of 4 kids 💀 one of them is 5 years younger than me 💀💀 the other two are 6 years younger 💀💀💀 (I love them sm the annoying shitstarters)

I love to draw and make art but I suck at anatomy and colour theory it makes me want to rip my hair out (and I wanna be a fan artist so bad)

I’m attempting to learn bass but I also cannot commit to learning the bass (I blame my sibling for keeping it in their wardrobe so I forgoet it exists)

I am 90% sure I’m neurodivergent I just cannot really afford to get that diagnosis rn ya know?!

I did ballet & dance most of my life 🤯🤯 (now I’m a bartender and my old ballet teacher is a regular at the sailing club I work and now I look queer and cunty as hell and every time she sees me she just stares in disbelief and fake smiles it’s hilarious)

I still sleep with my childhood teddy :( I love her she is my one thing I would save in a fire. Her name is charlotte and she’s probably 3 years overdue for a bath but I love her

I’m fucking weird about stars - the shape not the astrology - like I love them. I see them and I get very excited and I draw them everywhere (you can probably tell off all my master lists, they all have stars drawn on the title strips 😭) I just really love them they’re so cute. I almost named myself Star actually

I’m a sagittarius. I don’t know what that means but I know it means a lot of things to people so hopefully it’s good things!

My favorite colour is green but more so earthy and cool greens. I love a good scrumptious yummy green, something mossy something sagey. I have a green wall in my room and it’s very nice to look at.

I lived abroad for a little bit as a teen in Vietnam which was amazing and I’m planning to move somewhere abroad again next year hopefully (seriously get me the hell out of SA)

My biggest dream / goal / career choice for most of my life was to be an actor but now I’m just kinda existing with no real drive or purpose in life. But I might pick acting back up now I’m becoming more comfy with myself and my gender :) my dream role is to play Frank from Rocky.

Uuuuuh that’s all I can think of :)

So yes, I hope I have appealed to your interests in one way or another. And if you’d maybe like to be friends please don’t hesitate to send me a message!

Maybe tell me a cool fact about yourself?

Or if you’re too shy to message first you could just add a random comment here or say something in the tags? I’ll message you! <3

Also if you have anymore questions I am trying to be a bit more of an open book, I love when people dive in with the nitty gritty so if you have strange questions I’ll probably be very excited to answer them lmao

Anyway, I hope you have a lovely day random people in my phone I hope to befriend <333

[failedaethercore]

The Missing Messenger

Inspired by @wolfofcelestia's amazing work found here.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

This (my fourth fic ever lol) was written in a fever state to get it out of my system since this had been consuming me all day today while I did my adulting. Please be kind, I know there are likely a lot of mistakes, But I am trying my best to learn and grow as a writer while writing all these fics.

Also I know I wrote something similar in my last fic, but I think I've ironed it out better this time. So bear with me while I work towards a new theme haha

Rafayel x fem!MC/reader, Xavier, Zayne, confessions, fluffy stuff at the end I swear ;;

Please be warned, this is a dark work and is not a good idea to read if you are easily triggered.

CW: torture, depression, allusions to rape, blood, guns, death, please let me know if I need to add any more (can't think of what else, I swear I'm not here to hurt any of you lovely people)

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

Rafayel was laying on his sofa, one arm artfully draped over his eyes as he sighed in defeat. His latest piece was causing him so much trouble, which made him feel like just giving up and moving on to something else. But he was too far along to call it quits just yet, he wanted to see it finished.

So when his phone hummed quietly near his hand, he let out another dramatic groan and picked it up, praying it wasn't Thomas bothering him to find out when the painting would be done. It was just a text. From you.

Y/n: Hey, I saw there's a new cafe down near the plaza, you wanna go when we both have some time? Apparently they have rose flavored milk tea and really good snacks. I really wanna try it!

Rafayel smirked and sent a quick series of replies.

Rafayel: That might be a little difficult, I'm in the middle of my magnum opus and cannot be torn away! Even if it caught fire, I can never leave my studio until my vision reaches fruition!

Rafayel: But maybe you can bring me some when you come visit...perhaps...this afternoon?

He could sense you rolling your eyes as he sees the word “read” next to his texts. He lets himself full on grin, hoping you'll agree.

Y/n: I do have today off...but wouldn't you like a break? You've been cooped up all week, I thought.

Rafayel: Don't you understand y/n? I must see this through! ...But I could use a little break, if you're willing to drop everything right now and bring me an iced latte with soy milk and plenty of brown sugar boba.

Y/n: And a slice of cheesecake?

Rafayel: You know me so well, it's almost like we're friends.

Y/n: Or enemies.

He chuckles to himself, texting you always managed to brighten his foulest moods, despite the aching in his chest when his thoughts lingered too long on how you were unlikely to ever want to be more than that...just friends.

He sighed and waited for a moment, staring at the screen to see if you were going to say anything else. When it had been long enough, he figured you were getting ready to come over, and he slumped back onto the sofa once more, leaving his phone on his chest as he stared up at the blue coming through the skylights in the ceiling.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

He didn't think it would take this long to get ready, but he was patient. He may whine and complain and give you the hardest time for making him wait...but he had already waiting so long for you, what is one more hour? Or two...o-or three...

His phone vibrated again, alerting him of a text messsage. He stopped his idle paint mixing, having wanted something to do while he waited for you, and looked down at his phone set beside him.

Y/n: I love you, Rafayel

His chest suddenly felt full and warm, he could feel his heart beginning to beat quickly, and he swore he could feel his ears redden in the delight that phrase had brought him. He reread it several times, pinched himself, even slapped his face with his free hand, just to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep while waiting for you.

He quickly typed a reply once he had confirmed he wasn't dreaming.

Rafayel: Well it's about time! Thought I would have to be the first one to admit it, at this rate...

But the message wasn't read right away. Maybe you were walking over from the cafe now? And you just wanted to confess before your visit. He had no idea why you were being so honest with yourself (and him), but he was so happy he couldn't care about that right now.

He hums happily for a while, waiting even more impatiently for you to arrive. But now it's been an hour. Then two. He checks his phone. Neither of you had ever agreed on a time to meet, but he didn't think you'd make him wait so long...

Rafayel: Y/n? Are you coming? Are you okay?

His joy started to melt into chilling fear, dripping down his spine as he realizes that his confession was left unread, after all this time. That's when the panic sets in fully. Something is wrong.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

Rafayel is in his trendy sports car before he can even think about what he's doing. Acting on pure instinct alone, he's already across the bridge and meeting the afternoon traffic that Linkon City is known for on a normal Thursday. For a moment he ponders if he should break the law, eyes darting hastily around the intersection before he floors it through a red light, not even bothering to slow down. He was a madman behind the wheel already, notorious for making you white knuckle the armrest whenever you rode with him. But now he was terrified, and determined.

He regains his senses while swerving to avoid a line of slowed cars, and quickly presses a few buttons on the car's touch screen, attempting to call you. Maybe your phone had just died. Please let him be a silly fool who worries over nothing. It rang for a while, before rolling over to voicemail, your standard message of “Hey, this is y/n, sorry I missed your call, leave me a message after the beep! Beep! No, not that one” followed be a giggle and then another beep. “Y/n please be okay, you've been quiet for a while, just starting to worry about my bodyguard here...I'm heading over to see if maybe you just fell asleep, since it's your day off! You better answer your door!”

Before he forgot, he decided to make one more call, pressing another button and starting a call with Thomas.

Thomas sounds elated to hear from Rafayel, thinking he had finally finished the painting and that Thomas could set up a new exhibition around it and the other dozen paintings Rafayel had finished earlier.

“Rafayel! It's about time, do you kno-” Before Thomas can begin nagging Rafayel about making him wait so long for just one painting, Rafayel cuts him off. “Something's wrong with y/n! She won't pick up her phone and I need you to track her down somehow. She's usually not this quiet, you have to help me Thomas!” The man was taken aback, his feet falling off his desk that he had leaned up there confidently at the beginning of the call. He sat upright and had no idea how to respond for a moment, Rafayel never begged for anything. Ever. At least not to him, anyways.

Rafayel waited for Thomas to reply, then shouted at the man. “Thomas! Go find Y/n! I need to know she's okay!” Thomas broke his silence with a stuttered “Y-yeah sure!” before hanging up quickly to make some calls of his own.

Rafayel pressed the gas pedal to the floor, as he sped down the road to come to a screeching halt in front of your apartment complex. He jumped out, not even bothering to make sure the engine was off, but just managing to remember to put the damned thing into park.

He bolted up the stairs, taking each step three at a time, as his long legs screamed at him from the sudden exertion on his usually lazy muscles. He knew your apartment number by heart, knowing exactly where you slept every night, just to occasionally check in and make sure you got home from a hunt okay. Even if he never knocked on the door, he looked up at the window in your apartment until the light came on, and he could see you open the window to let in some fresh air.

He knocked hard on the door, urgency spurring his continued knocks on as he waited impatiently. “Y/n! Hey! You home?!” There was no evidence of tampering that he could detect, the door looked like it always did, so when he had to break it down to get in, he felt a little guilty. Nevermind, he could easily replace it with a better one and the building's manager would be fine with it. He was praying you were just half asleep on your bed and would just scold him for freaking out over nothing.

When he found your apartment empty, not a soul in the place, while the windows were left wide open...his heart, already halfway down to his stomach, finishes it descent into his gut, while tears threaten his eyes. No...this can't be real. He's dreaming, all of this is a lie. He pinches himself again, and again, trying to bring himself out of this nightmare.

When he decides that he is truly not dreaming, he tries to call your phone again, only to hear your phone ringing under the sofa. The song you set as his ringtone would have probably made him chuckle and tease you if this wasn't such a terrifying scenario.

He picks it up from the floor, and looks at it. A photo of him smiling with you while you both pose in front of the camera glows before his eyes. That's when it all starts to blur a little, as tears begin to truly tug at the edges of his sight. He couldn't hold them back anymore, and let out a shout of your name, unable to contain his emotions because he had just found you again.

Moments later, a silver-haired man came barging into the apartment from the balcony, obviously drawn by the commotion from below. When Rafayel saw him, he was immediately on guard, drawing a dagger from behind his back, summoned from a plume of flame in his hand.

The man looked around quickly before drawing his own weapon, a sword borne of light held aloft and pointed at Rafayel. “Where is y/n. What are you doing in her apartment?” Rafayel stares down the weapon with indifference, not even registering the question before he lunges forward, another dagger being summoned to his empty hand as the sound of metal hitting metal fills the space.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

The fight only lasted a few minutes, but both men were so fast, and so evenly matched, they both fell to the floor quickly, panting, covered in cuts and bruises. At some point Rafayel had punched the man in the face, and at another point the man had gotten a good slice into the front of Rafayel's expensive shirt.

While both of them caught their breaths, the man asked another question. “Where is y/n...and who are you?” He had never met a match in battle, and was honestly a little stunned.

“Well who the hell are you? How do you know her name and where she lives?!”

The man slumps his back against the wall near the television, running his hand through his starlit hair. “Xavier...I'm her upstairs neighbor, and her Hunter partner.” Rafayel lets out a sigh and withers at the fact.

“I'm...Rafayel...she's my bodyguard. Did you hear anything in here earlier?” He is immediately brought back to the entire reason he was even here. “Y/n left her phone, she never leaves without it.” Xavier stares as Rafayel holds up your phone, the tiny charm hanging off it indicating it was definitely yours. He had no idea who gave you the tiny red fish charm, but he had always secretly been a little jealous.

“Then...the noises earlier...” Xavier stares down at the floor. “I thought y/n was exercising for some reason, even though it was her day off...I heard some shuffling noises...but I didn't think anything of it because I couldn't sense any Wanderers.” Rafayel's eyes narrow with every word, until his glare can be felt like a radiating heat from the depths of hell. He would bore a hole right through Xavier's head if he could.

Xavier sheepishly looked away, his quiet and sleepy demeanor made meek in that moment as guilt struck him like lightning. “I didn't realize. ...We need to find her.”

Before both men departed your apartment, Rafayel making a call to get your apartment door repaired, Xavier promising to contact your old friend Zayne who works at the nearby hospital, they agreed to exchange numbers and keep in touch. Their expressions grim as they went their separate ways.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

Rafayel's soul had now been shredded, drowned, disintegrated, and finally blown away like sands in the storm. This happened nearly on the daily for him, as every moment of you being missing driving him further into madness.

It had been weeks so far.

Where were you?

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

You had been texting with Rafayel when you had nodded off, meaning to get up and get ready to go get tea and snacks to bring to his studio and spend time with him. You were excited, but work had been draining your energy of late, so you let yourself nod off for a bit. Rafayel could wait, plus you enjoyed his bratty pout when you made him wait a little bit.

You awoke to the shufflling sound of something opening your window from the balcony. Or rather...someone. You realized how late it was in the same moment you realized what was going on. Men in neutral and dark clothes, face coverings, and holding rope and other supplies silently entered your apartment, thinking you were still asleep.

You quickly sent a text, knowing there was no saving you now. You could beat them up, you could take out maybe three of them in your current condition. Your energy still low from that last mission. “I love you, Rafayel” the last thing you send, as you don't know if you're going to come back from this as more figures climb into the room, you can hear their boots quietly touching onto the floor.

You jumped up from your position on the couch and ran to secure your concealed weapon you kept in the kitchen. A firearm for in case a Wanderer got too close to the apartment complex, or something like this happening. Unfortunately for you, one of them had a taser gun, and shot you in the back, taking you down before you can even reach under the counter for the weapon strapped there.

You can't make out much as your senses are blacking out from the pain. But you make out a low chuckle from one of the figures, a man with piercing eyes glowers down at you as he puts his boot on your head and grinds it into the floor a little. “...You're going to regret going for that.”

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

It had been what felt like an eternity. Your figure was chained to the floor, the shackles on your wrists and ankles constantly chafing and making your joints ache from their weight. You were losing your muscles from all the lack of exercise, but that didn't mean you didn't still suffer the brutality of your captors.

Every single day, at some point during the day, the door to the pitch black cell would open, light would pour in, and then it would begin.

The first time, you had let yourself feel a glimmer of hope. Rafayel? Had he found you? But no...it was the man with the piercing eyes, everyone wearing masks still despite clearly being in a safe location. They could never be too cautious, it seemed. “You're going to tell us everything you know about Lemurians and where we can find them.”

Your face went a little slack. You knew very little about them, and only knew maybe...two? Three? One of them...you would never reveal their identity to these monsters. You had just arrived at this point, but the shackles were already hurting you, and the taser to your back still stung and caused your nerves to shiver with what you hoped didn't look like fear.

“Don't worry, you don't have to answer right away. Let's have some fun with this first...” At first your face distorts into disgust, until the man pulls out a blade and you see the cloth mask over his face wrinkle in a way that could only mean he was smiling maliciously. His eyes glint with joy at the prospect of hurting you.

But you never broke. Not once. You swore to yourself that death would be better than letting them know about Rafayel. After everything he had confided in you, after everything he had given to you, you would guard it with your dying breath before this scum found a drop of information. So you didn't struggle, you didn't fight, you let the torture continue for forever, as the outside world spun on without you. You wouldn't let others suffer because of your weakness, your failings.

You blamed yourself for being too lax, being too comfortable in your life, when you knew danger was a constant part of your everyday life. Your vigilance had slipped for a moment, and you were the reason you were in this situation now.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

Once Zayne had been made aware of the situation, he had stopped working for a few days, searching in his own way to find you. The days turned into weeks, before he had to return to his work, guilt riding him on both fronts as he didn't want to give up the search, but he couldn't leave his patients to die.

Xavier had assured him he would be notified as soon as you were located, and Zayne tried his best to take comfort in that, at least. Rafayel was being driven mad, to the point of having barely slept and not eaten for far too long.

He was delirious, laying on the floor of his torn apart studio, as it was too many reminders of you, in some ways. His heart was gone, he felt numb all over, and his mind swam as he stared up at the darkening sky in the ceiling. He had searched through his underworld connections, but couldn't pry anything from anyone. No one knew a thing about it, apparently. But he knew you didn't just vanish into thin air.

So when all felt lost, he decided to try his last resort. You had his heart beating in your chest. From lives lived long ago, you have been reborn with that same heart time and time again. You were breathing because he gave you his everything the first time you had met. And now he had to pull it to him. He struggled for a while to try and tune into whatever frequency it was, he was rusty and hadn't really done anything like this in what felt like centuries.

So when he finally knew he had it, he could sense other Lemurians in Linkon City, he could sense the vast ocean and the creatures that reside there...he could even faintly sense others further still, but not you.

You were a blank space. An empty void stood where your usual place in the universe hung. He didn't realize he had stopped breathing until his lungs screamed for air. He sat up suddenly and gasped, choking on the air briefly before he coughed and started to sob into his hands.

You were gone. Not a trace. Nothing.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

You were bloody and covered in scarring wounds, broken bones and twisted muscles. Today had been burns on your bare flesh, followed by mild drowning in sea water. But they lost interest, saying you probably liked it, since clearly you liked fish and all that.

You were struggling to breathe through your broken ribs, but you tried to keep steady, breathing through your nose slowly as you kept a stoic expression on your bruised and puffy face. Every day had been something new, something awful. But the taste of the deep salt water had hardened your resolve. You didn't know why Rafayel couldn't find you, but you would escape. You would find him and he would keep you safe again. You had to believe that, despite the fear that this was actually some elaborate play to make you loyal or something.

You were given too much time in the darkness by yourself. Your mind would race to horrible scenarios at the drop of a hat already, but now you had concocted a horrible fantasy where Rafayel had been the mastermind behind all of this, and that you were being tested to be sure you were loyal to him no matter what. But that made you more fearful that whoever Rafayel was running from must be even worse than this.

So you steeled yourself every day, when the shuffling of feet could be heard outside your door, you would sit up and just stoically stare at a spot in your vision that did not exist. Grounding your mind in what you had to tell yourself to survive this.

He was looking for you. He would come. As soon as you could make your move, he would find you. Somehow. If he was truly behind this, then Xavier and Zayne would find you. You had been gone far too long for you to not be missed. This was your courage. And you would be doubly damned by the Gods if you let yourself fail now.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

The day finally came. They had become less vigilant, as you had never once made an effort to break free, and the fire had quickly died in your eyes. They were almost ready to just let you go, figuring you didn't know anything. The only things they could ever extract from you were screams and grunts of agony. You had even overheard them talking amongst themselves several times, talking about their personal lives as if it was another day at an office job.

So when you were ready, you had snuck a small thin object, you think it was a broken paperclip, to pick the locks on your shackles. You made quick work in the inky darkness that surrounded you, but left the shackles on, to lure them into your plan.

The shuffling sounds came up again, and you were ready. You waited for them to casually open the door, like they had been doing so recently, as you let your eyes adjust to the change in light. They were chatting as if it were just a Tuesday, while you let yourself sprint to the door, pushing through the armed guards. They had forgotten you were a trained Hunter, apparently. Because you managed to pull one of their guns and shoot the other point blank.

The one whose weapon you had confiscated had fallen to the ground and to be sure he wouldn't follow, you shot him in the leg. You made a run for the stairs, apparently you were deep underground. It explained the lack of windows and fresh air in the cell.

The stairs were narrow, so it made it difficult as more and more guards began to pour down to apprehend you, and you could only climb over so many grasping bodies as they struggled to hold you while their injuries otherwise incapacitated them. Before long you were forced to throw the empty gun aside and take things head-on. You punched and bit and kicked your way as far as you could, every ounce of your being put into surviving and escaping. But before long you were dragged down and pinned to the stairs, a boot holding you firmly in place by the center of your back.

The man with the piercing eyes chuckled darkly. “I see you have more fight in you than we had thought...I like that.” He pulled your head up by your hair, at least what was left of it, and forced you to look at his other boot. “Lick it, peasant.”

You blacked out from exhaustion before you could do anything, and he tsked angrily. “Fucking bitch...she shot so many of these idiots. Now I have to clean this up.” He turned to those of his men who were still standing or able to stand, and began barking orders. “Carry out the wounded, shoot those who won't make it, and put her back in the cell. This time...I won't let her keep this worthless hope she keeps clinging to. I will take her tonight, and break her.”

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

It had been months now, and Rafayel was wallowing in the abyss of life without you again. But this time was different. You had been ripped from him and he couldn't even find your body to bury. Every day he prayed you were alive, but then cursed himself for it, knowing if you were, you were most likely suffering.

The day had come, and he was burying his face in a hoodie you had accidentally left in his studio one time, sobbing uncontrollably as his phone kept ringing in the background. He ignored it, Thomas' frantic motions against the drowning undercurrent of Rafayel's soul would never be enough to save either of them.

So when he felt your presence, he bolted upright, tears staining his otherwise beautiful but now gaunt face, and he stared in the direction of where he felt you. He had checked there. Many times, in fact. He had suspected you were in the N109 zone, but how you had eluded him for so long, he had no clue. But now you were somewhere he could find you. And he would be damned by the ocean once more if he let this chance slip by.

His flashy sports car was in need of a wash, and so was he, but he hopped in, before speeding off to reach your location all the faster, once again a demon behind the wheel.

But no sooner had he gotten oriented enough to know which road to take, you vanished again. But he suspected you were in that general vicinity, and wasted no time to get to his usual spot where he could enter the zone without interference.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

You were reshackled and struggling to breathe as the man with the piercing eyes was holding you by your throat so that you were partly suspended in the air. Your eyes were squeezed shut. Your escape attempt had failed, and now you knew the final thing that could be taken from you, aside from your life, would be ripped from your body forever.

Tears sprang to life in the corners of your eyes as you imagined Rafayel finding your body after all of this, somehow, and how it would break him. You couldn't give in, but despair was gripping your heart harder than the man currently holding your neck.

“I'm going to break you in so my men can each have a turn. After your little stunt, a lot of them need some comfort and closure from what you did.” Your eyes shot open, and you glared up at him with all the defiance you could muster. And it was greater than the will of the Gods themselves, as the man actually stilled for a moment in shock.

His composure resumed quickly, and he took off his mask to reveal a sinister, toothy grin on what might have once upon a time been a handsome face. There were scars and an obviously previously broken nose, but seeing the rest of his face only steeled your resolve. If he wanted to break you, you would put up the fight of your life.

So when the door opened slowly, the faintly brighter light from outside peeking in to drape across a shadowy figure, he snapped up to yell at whoever it was. “Don't you know I'm busy in here?! Wait your turn, ya filthy fucker!” He dropped you to go push the figure outside and shut the door, but before he could reach a hand out to touch the shadow before you both, his hand was sliced off in a blur.

He paused, taking a moment to process what had happened in a fraction of a second. Then he screamed. That's when the shadow stepped into the light filling the cell, and your eyes adjusted enough to see him.

It was Rafayel, covered in soot and blood, a dagger held in his delicate hand as he stared down the man shouting about his hand that was now laying on the floor, blood draining down to the center of the cell, where a drainage grate resided underneath you. Your eyes welled with tears as you stared in shock. He had found you.

Finally. He was here.

His eyes snapped to you, the look of murderous intent softening before he looked over your frail figure. Clearly they were starving you slowly, and all the scarring and blood, filth, everything that they had done to you, rushed into his mind before he snapped back to the man who had finally regained his senses enough to pull out a dagger.

Rafayel slit his throat and turned him to ash before he could so much as aim the thing. The dagger fell to the ground with a clatter, as well as any other metallic accents to his clothes. You gasped as Rafayel's eyes nearly glowed with hate. He would never forgive anyone who so much as glanced upon you in this state. But when he was done, he swiftly softened, his hands finding the shackles and unlocking them in one smooth motion before you register what's going on.

You manage a hoarse, quiet whisper of his name. “Rafayel...” He softly shushes you and picks you up gently, holding you close against his chest as your thin frame drapes across his arms. “You're okay...I've got you, y/n.” You smile, for the first time in a millennia. It hurts so much to smile, and the tears sting your wounds, but you can't stop it. And before long, you're blacking out as Rafayel ascends the stairs slowly, being sure not to jostle you while he tries to still his heart.

It ached so much to see you in this state, but it brought him so much exuberant joy to see you at least still alive. You drew breath, and that meant he could hold your warm hand again, and slowly help you regain your footing after this harrowing experience.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

He took you to your friend Zayne, since he was a doctor, before anyone else. Xavier was soon notified, and before long you were in your own VIP hospital room. Rafayel never left, even when you were being stripped naked and washed down carefully, and even Zayne had to look away with a blush. Rafayel kept watch, and nearly hissed at a nurse who tried to shoo him out of the ICU room.

Zayne had asked all the staff attending to you to be very careful, and even warned them that Rafayel might not cooperate if asked to leave the room. He had acquiesced to the fact that the purple haired man was going nowhere. Which he secretly couldn't blame him. He remembers the night you were admitted.

When you had been carried into the hospital by Rafayel, Zayne stood still in his tracks when he glanced up to find you looking half dead in his arms. Zayne shouted orders louder and faster than ever, and before long Rafayel was following a gurney into an operating room, despite many personnel pushing against him. He was firm, and unrelenting, so Zayne sighed and made him clean up and put on scrubs to stay sterile.

Rafayel silently watched over the surgery, his eyes looked like he was making a prayer to the last God or Goddess still listening, and asking for the only wish he would ever ask again.

That was a week ago.

You were looked after, and whenever he could, Rafayel held your hand. His sharp eyes kept staring into your soul, praying, willing you to wake once more. He kept his focus on you, unless a nurse came in with a new IV bag, a new drug, then he became vigilant to ensure it was safe. Zayne had given up on assuring him that he would never do you harm, because Rafayel nearly interrogated every nurse that came into the room, even to check your temperature.

But he finally relented to his situation, when he demanded Xavier keep watch while he passed out in the chair next to you, hand still holding yours. Zayne also stood vigil whenever he could spare the time, and a rotating shift of sorts came into being while you were unconscious.

A nurse had taken pity on your hair, as it had been pulled out in places, and shorn in others to shame you. She had done her best to wash it and trim it so that it would look better than it had been (she made sure to do it while Zayne was taking a shift, so she wouldn't have to fight a certain someone over it). Another nurse would bring food for whoever was on shift, though it was usually barely touched. Rafayel especially couldn't bring himself to eat, except when he collapsed once or twice, and Zayne pointed out how guilty you would feel knowing he was starving himself to death.

So after a great deal of staring down from Zayne and Xavier collectively, Rafayel conceded and ate some food. But he never left the room, even then. He thought the food was disgusting, and could barely swallow. But he willed himself to do it, for your sake.

Another week passed, and you were finally making stirrings. Your hand flexed a little in Rafayel's grip, and he sat straight up in that same moment, light returning to his dulled eyes, the numb restless sleep escaping from his form. You stirred, making a groan as the morphine had worn off. “Nnnnh...” Rafayel had to resist tightening his grip on your hand, as your poor fingers had been broken when punching a guard in the dick. If he had known that fact, he would be so proud of you, broken fingers and all.

He hit the nurse call button immediately, and started to shush you as you struggled slightly. “Shhh...y/n, you're safe. You're at the hospital. It's me, Rafayel...I promise...you're okay now...” You heard his voice over the high pitched tinnitus piercing your senses, and you sighed, settling back into the bed as you could barely move anyways. You tried to turn your head to look at him, but your muscles ached even doing that. “It's okay, I'm right here.” He squeezed your palm gently to let you know it was true. “I'm not going anywhere, okay?”

Zayne was notified upon Rafayel's press of the nurse call button, and came rushing in within a few minutes, despite being on the other side of the hospital. He was panting as Rafayel was talking softly to you, as your eyes began to close again. “Did she wake up? Did she say anything?” Rafayel nods then shakes his head, as he strokes your cheek through the bandages, as you fall back into your slumber, this time your muscles relax and you let yourself drift into a dream, instead of the never ending nightmares from before.

It took another two days before you woke up again, but this time you were more coherent, and you managed to sit up with the assistance of the adjustable bed. You stared at Rafayel for a long time before a whisper managed to escape your lips. “...you found me...” Rafayel almost didn't hear you, but he gave you the saddest smile upon realizing your words. “I did...I'm sorry it took me so long...” You tried to shake your head, but it was too much, so you just whispered. “No...you made it just in time...thank you...”

Your voice was hoarse and weak, but your once tight and guarded heart now relaxed and relished in the affection as Rafayel still held your hand, and gently brushed the hair out of your face, or caressed your cheek to comfort you, and many other tiny gestures that melted your heart as he whispered soft words to you. “You're going to be okay, y/n...Zayne is here, and Xavier will be in soon too...everyone missed you so much...” He looks down at his hand holding yours for a moment before he lets out a soft whisper you almost don't hear. “...especially me...”

You give another smile, although it hurts, it is genuine and happy. Hearing that somehow gives you confidence that you were right to trust him. He would never have done this to you, he would have never put you through hell like this just as some sick test. He clearly cared about you, how could you ever have thought those horrible things?

The nurse call button was pressed once more, and soon Zayne came rushing in, while Rafayel was texting Xavier with one hand to do his due diligence and let his new...I guess he'd call him a friend? Know what was going on. Zayne began to check on your wounds, checking every inch of you that he could to make sure you were mending.

“You seem to be doing better, y/n. Do you think you can manage some water?” A tiny nod from you prompts him to step out to hail a nurse, but there's already a crowd of them outside the door, and he sends one to get water for you. You glance at Rafayel as he just smiles warmly at you, his haunted face being pulled into a new expression for the first time in months. “...I want rose milk tea...” You let yourself smirk cheekily as Rafayel gives your hand a quick squeeze. “Soon, y/n...just wait until you can manage something more than water first, okay?” You nod a little and then turn your head slightly when a nurse brings in a pitcher of water, a glass, and a straw on a tray.

You have your first sip of water for the first time in what feels like forever, and you feel refreshed once more in that moment. The cool water slides down your throat and then sinks into your empty stomach, where it suddenly growls loudly in response. “O-oh...” Rafayel chuckles a little, and Zayne clears his throat. “You'll be able to eat solid foods soon, y/n. Just please be patient until we can take care of the bigger problems first.” You nod, and take another sip. You try to take a long, greedy sip, but Rafayel pulls the straw away.

“You're going to choke if you drink too fast...” He chides gently as you pout at him a little. But you understand, as you almost choke on the water you managed to get into your mouth.

Xavier comes in, panting, as he had to push past the mass of nursing staff and hospital personnel outside the door, and leans on the foot of the bed staring at you, mouth agape. “Y/n...you're awake!” You give him a small smile and nod. Your voice is still weak and rough, but you manage a teasing “...and still kicking.”

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

It had been a month since your first day awake, and you had been released from the hospital to your apartment yesterday. You had to hobble around with a cane, as you still suffered from muscular atrophy, and some serious fractures. Bone mending had come a long way since the need for casts or months of recover, but you still had to be careful while you puttered around your apartment, already bored out of your mind.

You got to catch up on some shows yesterday, but that started to bore you, and some of the darker elements brought you flashing back to your time in that cell again. So you'd turn off the tv and stare at the black screen's reflection of you, still thin, weak, and pale. The scars would fade with time, but you also figured it might make you look tougher to other Hunters, so you were almost proud of them.

Your phone buzzed against your thigh, as you looked down. It was Rafayel texting you.

Rafayel: Are you home?

Y/n: Yeah...I'm under house arrest for the foreseeable future...

Rafayel: Good. I'm outside, I can see your light on. Can you meet me at the door?

Y/n: Just wait, I can come unlock it

Before you have a chance to grab your cane, there comes a gentle knock at the door. You grin a little as you slowly make your way to the door, where Rafayel stands behind a large bouquet of...yellow dandelions? How did he know they were your favorite? And don't most people regard them as an annoying weed? You let out a gasp at the display before you. He was wearing his best suit, and had something behind his back, as he beamed a beautiful smile at you.

He had been with you at the hospital the entire time, but he had been eating more, resting more, and spoke more and more like himself once again. So you had watched him come back from the brink of an abyssal spiral into depression he might not have survived, while he watched you come back from the brink of death.

He handed the bouquet to you before gently guiding you back into your apartment. “Come on...I have a treat for you, y/n. I promise you'll love it...” Before you can say anything, he shuts the door behind him and goes to set a large bag of takeout on your small dining table. You let out a weak laugh, as it still aches to strain your ribs too much. But you smile at him as he sets out all the containers on the surface, going to grab some plates and utensils, as you slowly make your way to the chair nearest you.

“Rafayel, you didn't have to do all this...aren't you tired? You barely slept yesterday...”

Rafayel shakes his head adamantly, like a spoiled child being told they had to do something they didn't want to do. “I had to, y/n. If it's for you, nothing is too much...” You blush at his statement, having been reminded recently of the last text you had sent Rafayel before you were sure you were going to be killed.

“O-oh...by the way...Rafayel...y-you can disregard that text from before...y-y'know...that one...”

He stops what he's doing and strides over to you in two long steps. His eyes are piercing through your soul and deep into your heart, exposing every facet of you in a far more embarrassing way than simply baring your naked skin to him. He takes your free hand in both of his and gives your aching knuckles the softest of kisses. “I will never forget that text...” He whispers a breath over your knuckles. You blush more and try to pull it away reflexively. “A-ah...i-it's okay...” He shakes his head and holds your hand against his chest now. “No, y/n. It's not okay...I didn't find you before everything happened to you...” He takes a hand away from yours to gently stroke along your jaw and then run his thumb across your cheek.

“I love you, too, y/n.”

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

a/n: this kept me up all last night writing an outline on my phone, so if I didn't finish this I would be upset with myself haha

If you have any requests, please feel free to send an ask, I would love to hear them!

[redrocketpanda]

WIP Tag Game

rules: make a 24-hour poll with the names of your WIPs, let it run, then write one sentence for every vote the winner got

tagged by: @axreliono ayyyyyy

tagging: this is a *super* low pressure tag but I'm also gonna be mean and tag @parad0xymoron eheheheh (and consider yourself tagged if ya want in!)

I have two in progress big bang fics which I can't share anything from but you do have this lovely array to choose from still:

little summaries:

What I Was Made For (skts) There are 3 things in life that Miya Atsumu knows for damn sure: 1. That he is hilarious, charming, drop-dead gorgeous and adored by all. 2. That he is outstandingly exceptional in (almost) every sense. 3. That if he is ever anything less than outstanding, no one will love him anymore. Or: how Sakusa & co. help Atsumu realise that he is good enough and worthy of love all the time, every day, exactly as he is

Fire On the Horizon (krbk) 15 years. It's been 15 years since Kirishima has seen Bakugou. Red Riot is now one of the most beloved top heroes, he helped to rebuild Japan in the wake of the post-war arc, he (mostly) moved on with his life. But all of that is thrown into disarray when "Dynamight: missing, presumed dead" suddenly reappears on the scene

Astarion Punishment Smut Fic (Domme! Vico/Bttm Astarion) Does what it says on the tin. 3 chapters of unadulterated Astarion punishment smut feat. my Tav, BDSM dynamics, and clowning Astarion over and over again

The Miya Atsumu Humiliation Show (Atsumu/Terushima) Similarly to above but a house party one-shot where smug Atsumu gets clowned multiple times in front of/by Terushima, until it all culminates in raunchy sex (where the clowning ofc continues)

The Hardest of Hearts (skts Dark Academia AU) Told from Sakusa's perspective as he navigates a rather complicated relationship with his roommate, Atsumu, and life studying abroad at a prestigious creative arts university in England. Features descriptions of Sakusa playing the piano, the discovery of Atsumu's secret art, and trying to figure out wtf it all means

Untitled Itadori/Inumaki/Sukuna trash smut Again, does what it says on the tin. I apologise to the internet for my horrendous brain but there was something about Inumaki/Itadori "experimenting" with Inumaki's cursed speech and Sukuna deciding that he needs to intervene that absolutely rotted my brain

HQ BokuAka Prom Fic (bkak) Bokuto desperately wants to ask Akaashi to prom but is scared that the Fukurodani students will treat Akaashi differently once Bokuto graduates. Enter: Kuroo, Hero of the Hour - who gets together his fellow volleyball captains to plot a HQ takeover of Fukurodani's prom. Birds (and cats, and plants, etc) of a feather flock together. Features super cute dancing scenes (bc ofc) and Bokuto's sisters

Kunichi Smut (Kunigami/Raichi) Raichi just cannot stop thinking about Kunigami and it doesn't help that Kunigami is fucking everywhere he goes - on the pitch, in the gym, in the mess hall, in the showers. But it doesn't make sense bc Kunigami's like... a guy? The fuck is up with that. Or: (almost wildcard) Kunigami notices Raichi has the hots for him and proceeds to wind him up until Raichi can't stand it anymore, and then Kunigami rails Raichi in the showers

Apotheosis (bkak greek mythology AU) Minor god Akaashi + Beloved mortal Bokuto fall in love with each other. It's a story that can only end in tragedy. Except, Bokuto doesn't accept that. He figures all he has to do is turn into a god and then they can be together forever. Sounds easy, right? Features a beautiful bkak love story, HQ characters as greek gods, and Bokuto just being wonderful

[quaranmine]

Hello, it's me the anon who write about their thoughts, intepretation and message about your fic. I'm glad you like my thoughts and such. I deeply appreciated it. Say i have a few questions, i was browsing your blog see. And i saw that you or someone you possibly reblog linked two other fics that connected to 'The incandescene of a dying light' universe. And i wanna ask is this canon to the first fic? Because if so, that's cool that the others are being inspired to write and attempt to connect their fics to your universe fic. Also i know this is probably irrelevant but i got ask. How are Scar and Grian doing to the year 2020 on the fic? Is scar still working to shoshone national park to this year i mention or he retired a long time ago? Is there an age limit for the employees working for the national forest like at this age you be immediately or forcedly retired with small benefits package just for your safety? Also i wonder what Grian and Scar reactions to the invention of the internet and smartphones during the 1990-2010's because i just take a little research about international calls during the 1980-1990's and ugh... that's a hefty price to pay for such calls. No wonder people avoid staying too long on international calls. Because the phones bills man, it's gonna burn your wallet. Anyway that's all of my questions. I hope i didn't bother or anythin' about my questions. Have a good time, writer.

Hello, nice to see you again in my inbox!!

Yes, my story has inspired several recursive works (which is the term for a fanfic of a fanfic) and I'd like to give them a shout-out!

I Waved Goodbye to the End of Beginning by @crazypercheron is a fantastic multi-chaptered work set the year after the main fic took place. It's about Cub visiting Scar's lookout and trying to offer him comfort as he realizes Something happened last year. It has a slower pace than the main story and really expands on a lot of details about Scar's life as a lookout.

The Evergreens Enfold the Shrine by @darkaviarymc is an amazing little story that asks the question of how Mumbo's story will be perceived later, through some college students (Gem, Etho, Beef) in 1995 telling a ghost story about Mumbo.

From Embers by @honeylashofficial is a great oneshot set in the same universe (but not directly referencing the main fic) about what happens when Impulse and Skizz go hiking in the forest and get injured.

The Phosphorescence of a Glimmer in Extrimis by TotallyNotAPlant is a little crack AU in which Mumbo is just. A cryptid in the forest.

Of these, TotallyNotAPlant's story is definitely not canon since it's a crack story, but the other three are sort of....dubious canon? Half-canon? They're not fully canon because they were not written by me, and I might have made different choices. (This does not mean I dislike the choices anyone has made, it just simply means we all have our own unique styles as writers. I am thrilled that other people are finding their own meaning in my work and I don't want to dissuade them from doing so by demanding they fit my exact mental framework.) Since they are recursive works, I cannot guarantee I won't ever end up causing continuity errors if I upload something new because I do have a few other works in this AU that might get uploaded. However, I'm incredibly pleased with the work that all these lovely writers have done, and I am willing to work around what they're doing if I can!

Scar and Grian are doing great in present day! I think they'd benefit from being able to communicate more easily now. Scar may or may not be retired by now--without taking exact birthdays into account, he'd be about 64 in 2020 since he was 33 in the main fic (and 68 today.) Grian would be approx. 59 in 2020 and 63 in 2024 (but i am not incorporating exact birthdays into this.)

As far as I know there isn't an age requirement for fire lookouts, just the physical requirements like being able to hike/haul water/chop wood etc. I have seen videos/read about older lookouts. The only Forest Service age requirements I know of is that wildland firefighters must be under 37, and law enforcement officers must be under 37 when appointed. Otherwise there is not an age where you are forced out of typical federal service, just an age you're eligible to retire like all jobs.

Based on federal hiring, Scar would either be a temporary appointment (<6 months, can be rehired on a yearly basis but not guaranteed. Most common for fire lookouts) or seasonal permanent (must work minimum 6 months, guaranteed rehire with benefits and retirement.) I'd prefer him to be seasonal permanent just for his, like, quality of life but his fire lookout appointment is only 5 months so he doesn't immediately qualify. Maybe they keep him on at the office for an additional month after fire season ends. It might be most likely that he was hired as a recurring temporary employee for the first few years and then offered a seasonal permanent position. OPM has information about how this worked in the 80s but it's a bit too in the weeds for me to bother with LOL.

The real question isn't his retirement or age though--it's if the lookout is even still in service. I personally do not think it would be. There are VERY few lookouts left in the 2020s. I found an article from 2016 that said there were only 3 left in operation in Wyoming, and I don't even know if that's still true 8 years later. There's plenty of out-of-service ones remaining, and you can easily rent them for a night to sleep in on recreation.gov. But very few remain staffed. By the time the story is set, most lookouts are already out of service. I think it's likely his lookout would go out of service somewhere in the 90s. I think he'd work there til it went out of service, but I don't think this is a job he can keep the rest of his career. He might be offered a career transitional job in the Forest Service after that but I don't know if he'd take it or not. He could be an interpreter or some other seasonal job. To me the loss of a fire lookout job isn't a sad ending for him though--it's just how life and careers change :) I don't really have a clear idea of what he'd do instead. He has a lot of random skills picked up from the work he does in the off season and I think he'd pretty easily find something else to pick up.

Reactions to internet: well, Grian's going to have to learn computer stuff to do his job! Remember how Mumbo was learning computer aided design but Grian didn't know much about computers? Yeah, buddy, AutoCAD is about to become an industry staple for architects in the 90s so you need to keep up. Poor Grian with all his hand-drafting skills.

In @darkaviarymc's fic there's a bit about Scar being active on those mid-90s message boards that I LOVE. I think he totally would do that and have all this knowledge about the outdoors but also weirdly specific extra knowledge. And tons of misspellings of course.

Grian and Scar would keep in touch. The growing accessibility of the internet would only help. The phone bills...yeah there's no great way around that in the early years. I also like to think Scar goes to visit Grian in England since he's never been at the time of the main story :)

[wowpindrop]

Unavoidable | Doctor!James Acaster (& others)

For: anon

Request:

Basically for this first request, gonna be a little strange but I had a dream that James Acaster was Doctor Who and his companions were Josh Widdecombe and Ed Gamble and I was the Doctors child and was wondering if you could write something including fluff based on it? But instead of me it’s the Teen!reader obviously, I’m 18 and Gender-Fluid and use all pronouns, any and all pronouns would be great in regarding the reader.

Notes:

Hi anon! I'm so srry this has taken me so long to do, but I lost the first draft so I had to redo it :[. But it's finished now! I literally love the idea sm, James as the doctor would be so hectic I cannot. I've decided to keep Ed and Josh's names the same so it isn't confusing but James is obvs referred to as the doctor. I hope it's alright. Also if you wanna be tagged in future fics that i post, dm me n ill add u to the list. Happy reading!

Tags:

@frankieray

Summary:

The doctor makes a foolish mistake leading to you getting injured on an adventure, he is quick to make sure you're alright and to assure you it won't happen again.

TW: SLIGHT BLOOD AND INJURY (BUT ITS ALL FLUFFY AT THE END)

It was unexpected when you heard the bullet go off behind you. Yes, you knew the aliens you were currently facing weren't cowards- it wasn't as if they were too scared to shoot.

It was just surprising that they shot you.

You weren't in their direct line of fire, it would've been simpler to maybe shoot Josh, or even the Doctor, but yet here you were.

The Doctor. Your doctor.

He had found you on one of his adventures, complete coincidence. It just happened that he was your biological father, not that you has any idea.

The gangly man had a very different personality to your more serious, stoic nature. You wouldn't have guessed, not by looking at you both anyway.

His, happy, bubbly nature. Constantly bouncing around the TARDIS, occasionally bumping into the control panel, and swearing under his breath, much to the enjoyment of Ed and Josh, the two men who the Doctor had decided to travel with as companions.

That's why it was so surprising that the aliens didn't shoot the Doctor, the amount of attention he was bringing to himself on the deck of the spaceship anyway.

The ringing in your ears began to subside.

You looked down.

Your raised a shaking hand to eye level, to see it coated in a dark shade of your blood.

Your breathing quickened as you realised.

Then your legs gave way.

The last thing you saw before the darkness was the Doctor swearing loudly before yelling orders at Ed and Josh, flailing his limbs frantically.

You could feel the blood slowly oozing out of your wound as your eyes began to close. The Doctor rushed to your side, kneeling. His hand finding the side of your face.

"Stay with me. Fucking hell please stay with me."

Your eyes fluttered open to bright white lights. They made you squint as you began to sit up, wincing at the pain in you side. You leant on your elbows as you looked around the infirmary of the TARDIS, somewhere you had gotten acquainted with after dangerous adventures with your father.

None had been as severe as this.

They were usually minor things: cuts, grazes that sort of thing.

Ever still, the Doctor would stress, worrying about every tiny injury you had. Long slender fingers plastering up even the slightest paper cut.

You turned to your left, to see the Doctor asleep in a chair. Messy auburn hair covering his eyes as he snored, out of place. The outfit he wore was dirty with dust and grime.

He was snoring lightly, his mop of hair shaking slightly with each inhale. Just another one of his many quirks.

You attempted to stand, throwing your legs over the side of the hospital-esc bed. As you did the Doctor stirred, waking.

He saw you trying to get up and started to panic a bit.

"No, you have to lie down, you took a heavy blow out there man."

You huffed and lay back down, looking up to see his blue eyes laced with concern and worry.

"Dad I'm fine. Its only minor."

"Minor? You were bleeding out, you were lucky you didn't end up with any more damage that was already done."

You rolled your eyes in defeat as the Doctor began to check the gauze that covered the wound.

"I don't know what I would've done if you didn't make it back kid." He said after a while, slender fingers pulling back down your shirt, which now had a fairly large red rimmed hole in it.

"Well I'm fine aren't I." You responded with a slight smile.

"It should've been me, I wasn't paying attention, I put you in danger I'm so sorry-" he began to reel off apologies until you grabbed his hand to make him look at you.

"Dad! I'm ok. It wasn't your fault. None of us could've guessed that would've happened. Don't blame yourself."

A little while later, Ed and Josh entered, worry plastered on their faces. They were relieved to see you awake.

"Bloody hell y/n." Ed chuckled darkly "you got pretty banged up."

"Yeah well, I'm good as new now." You responded, chuckling.

"And im so glad you are." The Doctor whispered, squeezing your hand.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Eclipse: Chapter 22

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Adventure Characters: Apollo, Hades Another chapter I had a lot of fun with! Got to do a little more worldbuilding in here... I have a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi! <<Chapter 21

HADES XXII A Light Is Found in The Most Surprising of Places

“You can’t defeat me!” Alcyoneus boomed, the sound of glaciers colliding.

Ignoring the ichor dripping from his lower face – he was a god, wounds like this hurt but they would never stop him – Hades drove his sword downwards, shrinking in size rapidly enough that the second blow from the staff whistled harmlessly over his head, and impaled the red serpent that made his bane’s left leg.

The giant howled, the wounded serpent lashing out and coiling around his own legs, yanking him down.  Hades slashed at it again, rolling out of the way as Alcyoneus stumbled down to one knee, and ending up back on his feet again, outside the immediate range of the staff.

“You can’t defeat me!” the giant repeated.  “Have you forgotten, Hades?  I cannot be felled in my home.”

Hades snorted derisively.  That was not a fact he was likely to forget any time soon – he remembered the seemingly unkillable nature of his giant the first time they’d met, how even with one of the most powerful demigods of the age fighting alongside him (the one and only time he had ever willingly worked with one of his youngest brother’s demigod spawn), they had been unable to take him down until Herakles bodily carried the giant many times his size over the border.

No, he was well aware that Alcyoneus could not be defeated in the land of his home.  His concern was not with whether or not Alcyoneus could be killed, but how he was going to break through the nigh unbreakable skin to reach and crush the trio of diamonds he could sense tantalisingly within, pulsing with oil in a facsimile of a mortal heart.

Last time, he had both Herakles’ insane mortal strength and the ground itself under his command.  Alcyoneus’ skin was not impossible to penetrate when diamonds and other adamant were utilised against it, but in Tartarus, Hades had access to nothing save his own Stygian Iron sword, which appeared to be struggling to even score the metal for reasons Hades was not entirely certain of, but suspected had something to do with how the giant was of the Underworld in a way nothing else was, and a weakened Apollo.

Another arrow streaked past him, this one missing Alcyoneus entirely, and the giant laughed his rock-grinding laugh.

“Little sun god,” he sighed condescendingly.  “You’re embarrassing yourself.  I will deal with you after I crush Hades.  Be patient.”  The damnable staff struck out at Hades again, and he bodily deflected it with his sword, unwilling to receive another blow from the powerful weapon.

He heard a rasped shout – wordless, but unmistakably angry, and Apollo.

“No,” his nephew snarled, hoarse and rough in a way that made it sound menacing.  Dangerous.  “No, I will not patiently sit down and wait.”

The darkness of Tartarus seemed a little fainter, a little less there.  Hades dismissed it and stabbed at Alcyoneus’ more vulnerable serpentine legs again, which slithered out of the way of the dark metal.

His sword absorbed the darkness that surrounded it, but there was definitely less of it now.  Alcyoneus faltered a little, a new shine ricocheting off his metallic body, and the giant’s red, gem-encrusted hair whipped around as he turned his head away from Hades to face the light that had suddenly invaded the Delta.

“Little sun god,” Apollo repeated, venom in each rasped word.  His bow was nowhere to be seen, Hades noticed – perhaps his nephew had grown tired of firing shots that didn’t land where he wanted them – but even without a weapon, he looked furious, and threatening.  “If the sun is what you want, you miserable pile of rocks, then here it is!”

The steadily increasing glow emitting from his nephew exploded at his roar, the raw essence of the god of the sun both blinding and scorching, burning like the Phlegethon but infinitely brighter.  Hades’ vision whited out entirely, leaving him reliant on his other senses as he sensed an opportunity and slashed at Alcyoneus’ legs again.

The giant bellowed, trampling around ungainly.  From the way he moved, a chasm of cold and dark against the prevailing onslaught of light and heat, Hades was certain that he, too, had been blinded and unbalanced by Apollo’s sudden offensive interference.

Alcyoneus was of the Underworld, of the darkness beneath the ground where the sun never reached, never dared invade.  He was greed and pain and suffering, Asphodel and the Fields of Punishment, of the lip of Tartarus.  He was the Hades equivalent of the giants, but they were not the same.

Hades knew the sun, remembered days under Helios’ chariot before taking the Underworld for his own, remembered both its harsh burns and its soft warmth from a time before the Underworld became his home.  Apollo’s sun was not so familiar to him, but he knew his nephew, too.

Alcyoneus might have survived in the sunlight of the Overworld – although Hades doubted it was a coincidence that the home he had chosen for himself, had manipulated Hazel into resurrecting him within, was Alaska, a part of America known for cold weather and short days – but he was not of the Overworld.

His sword scraped against brass again, vibrating in his hand as it skated across the surface before something changed, the blade finding purchase and biting in.  The oil Hades could feel within Alcyoneus suddenly had a few beads squeeze outside their given routes inside his body.

A wound.

The giant roared again, stumbling backwards, away from the supernova of light that was Apollo, and giving Hades a moment to think.

It was the light that had changed things, but Alcyoneus was his bane, and his bane alone.  They were evenly matched but they were poised to destroy each other using abilities they shared.  In theory, by the Fates that bound them, Alcyoneus’ weaknesses should be Hades’ strengths, the same way Alcyoneus’ strengths sought Hades’ weaknesses.

So where did light come into things, enough that it weakened Alcyoneus-

No.

The light had not weakened Alcyoneus, Hades realised suddenly, thoughts of light and warmth racing through him.  Thoughts of healing, of the way his essence had been warm when he’d used it to bolster his nephew, of the Underworld in its entirety, and not just the cold darkness Alcyoneus drew into himself.

It had strengthened Hades.

The Fields of Asphodel were overcrowded, souls so densely packed they almost merged together, a sea that needed constantly organising and expanding to accommodate the ever increasing number of souls that took up eternal residence there.  The Fields of Punishment often requested his personal attention, souls in need of eternal damnation who sought to free themselves again and again and again.

Elysium was the area of the Underworld he tended to the least; the souls there were happy, blessed and still in full recollection of who they were, who they had been.  Hades had little need to pay it much attention, and the awareness of souls there the Laws forbade him interacting with even after death (or so his paranoid brother’s interpretation of said Laws had become).

Hades was the god of the Underworld – all of the Underworld, not just the miserable and the tormented, but the joyous, the blessed, the hope and love and reunions.

There was more that he could draw on than just the dark.

He reached within himself, feeling for a lightness within his essence he all too frequently dismissed.  Already summoned from the deepest depths of himself by the lure of Apollo’s sun, the real thing even Elysium and the Isles of the Blessed could only generate an imitation of, it came easily at his call, growing and expanding as Hades acknowledged it, drew upon it.

It was unfamiliar in its familiarity, feelings of hope and joy and contentment that were part of Hades, because it was part of the Underworld, but unacknowledged for so long as Hades fell into bitterness and the areas that needed work.  It felt right, as it settled over him, reaching out greedily for the sun it never saw.

Apollo’s sun responded, obligingly dancing with the light of Elysium and bolstering it, drawing out a brightness Hades had never thought he, of all gods, could generate.  His sight faded back into clarity, night vision and light vision overlapping as his domain settled into the trichotomy of light, dark, and the neutral grey in between.

Before him – before them, Apollo stood at his side, tall and proud and powerful in a way that would force Zeus into conniptions to even contemplate – Alcyoneus made like a rabid animal, cornered and starving and vicious.  The black opals of his eyes reflected their light back at them, blinding the giant, but he was a creature from Tartarus, from the dark, and needed his sight no more than the god of the Underworld did.

Rejuvenation, rebirth, the feeling of a soul returning to the Overworld anew, washed over Hades’ jaw, restoring it and stemming the steady flow of ichor.  It was barely an observation as he stepped back, evading the desperate lash of a serpentine foot and ducking smoothly under the flailing of the iron staff.

Stepping inside Alcyoneus’ reach, and once more growing to match the giant’s size, Hades thrust his sword, point first, into the giant’s abdomen.  The brass resisted, held out for a moment, and then another, before the tip of the weapon broke through, driving into the giant’s body with all the strength Hades could muster.

Pitch dark oil spilled down the brass, shimmering over the surface of the sword as Hades pulled it back, but Alcyoneus was a powerful giant and such a wound would not fell him.

Hades lunged again, ducking under the adamantine knuckles that flew towards him, and slashed at the giant’s hip.  The blade sank in, and Alcyoneus roared.

“You cannot defeat me!” he repeated again, the voice of conviction overlapping with the waver of uncertainty when the oil continued to run unhindered down towards the ground.  “Tartarus is my home.”

Apollo scoffed, Hades’ nephew seemingly not entering the fight directly but continuing to be a vibrant source of lighting that the Pit had no doubt never seen before.  His essence thrummed with controlled fury, but there was also an acknowledgement that this was not, strictly, his fight.

He was Hades’ bane, it was Hades’ only living child that this giant was threatening, luring to death and eternal torment beyond, separated from his father’s domain for all of time.

This was Hades’ fight, and Hades was going to finish it.

That did not, apparently, mean that Apollo was going to sit back and be quiet.

“Is it?” the sun god asked, in a condescending tone Hades had almost forgotten his kind nephew capable of.  “Look at yourself, if you can.”

Apollo was holding back from the fight out of a clear respect for Hades, but it was also obvious that his anger towards the giant was no less sated.  It swirled through his essence, agitated but also vindictively amused; his nephew had also clearly realised what Alcyoneus had not.

When the giant had been drawn up by Hazel, his home had been Alaska.  Upon his defeat, dragged out of Alaska and over the nearby border to Canada, per Thanatos’ report – a careful report, which had neglected to mention the name or parentage of the demigod Arion had permitted to ride him – he had been killed and returned to Tartarus.  Had that been the end of Alcyoneus’ part in the second gigantomachy, then his claim would no doubt hold true – as the place of his latest rebirth, Tartarus would classify as his home.

But the giant had not been content to remain within Tartarus while his brethren continued to wage war above, and had passed through the Doors of Death, reborn in the Overworld in Greece.

He had not died in Greece.  He, per his own Fate, could not have been killed in Greece.  Arion and his rider had pushed him hard, but they had not been able to kill him.  Hades, too, had not killed him; his role in the battle had simply been to dismiss the fallen giants back to Tartarus and, yes, in most cases, those giants had been felled by a god and demigod combination, much the same way Hades had once fought alongside Herakles, but that had not been the case for Alcyoneus.

Alcyoneus had still been alive as Hades dragged the ground beneath him open, plummeting him back down to Tartarus, and it appeared, from the brass skin, that the Fates had not deemed that a death.

Blinded, Alcyoneus could not look down at his skin, nor at his unhealing wounds, but the desperate roar he released at Apollo’s words suggested that he had not needed to.  After all, he could feel that his wounds were still gaping injuries, leaking oil down to the membrane of Tartarus and running into the waiting, silent lake at the base of the Delta.

“Impossible!” he bellowed, but Hades didn’t care to listen to his rugged, rumbling voice any further and continued his attack, evading most of the giant’s frantic hits and regenerating near-instantly from anything that connected as rebirth settled over him like a shroud.  That, too, had mingled with Apollo’s healing, he could feel, and the faint realisation that Apollo’s voice had not been a raw rasp the last time he spoke flitted through his mind as he kept pressing forwards.

For every hit Alcyoneus managed to land on Hades, he managed several in return, until the ground was slick with oil.  Eventually, the giant stumbled, falling down to the ground as his serpentine legs buckled and lost the ability to bear his weight, and Hades pounced, driving the tip of his sword straight down through Alcyoneus’ left breast, directly towards the diamond cluster that made the giant’s heart.

He felt them break apart, overwhelmed at the end of the assault, and for a long moment everything was still.

The gemstones ensnarled in red hair were the first ones to fall, bouncing lightly off the membrane before coming to a halt, glinting in the combined light of the two gods.  Unlike most giants, Alcyoneus did not disintegrate into dust upon his death.  Instead, he broke apart, piece by piece of the amalgamation of gemstones and metallic elements falling away until he no longer represented a humanoid figure, but an assortment of discarded rocks.

In the centre of the array, three oil-slicked diamonds split in two, now six smaller, flawed diamonds.  Hades reached out for them with his power and watched them roll away haphazardly in different directions.  One fell into the Delta itself, which churned for a moment before laying still once more – watchful, waiting.

Hades had no doubt that least one of the river gods and goddesses were in there, watching.  He could feel eyes upon him, upon both of them, but ignored them in favour of facing Apollo.

His nephew had stopped shining quite so brightly, once again a form rather than mere essence.  In one hand was his golden bow, a sheen to it that had been lacking, while at his hip his quiver was once again bristling with gold-fletched arrows.

Something about him felt different.  He stood as tall as he always tended to, in the form of a young man just into adulthood, mortal-sized once more, but the brightness had dulled drastically.  For a moment, Hades wondered if it was simply a change in his perception, now he was aware of Elysium’s light swirling near the surface of his own essence, delighted at being let out and acknowledged after so long, but there was a twist to Apollo’s face that was almost a grimace.

“You do not look well,” he observed, stepping away from the water and the remains of Alcyoneus, shrinking back to a mortal size himself as he surveyed his nephew critically.

Apollo gave him a smile, one that looked genuine, but after their recent inadvertent sharing of emotions, Hades was not sure if he should trust it.  “I’m fine,” he said.

That did not clear up any of Hades’ misgivings, but Apollo stepped past him, casting a wary eye towards the rivers but mostly focusing on the scattered rocks.

“Where do we go from here?” he asked.  Hades frowned.

“Alcyoneus is dead,” he said.  “My son is no longer being summoned.  That satisfies the point of this venture, does it not?”

“The prophecy has not been fulfilled,” Apollo said quietly, and Hades felt a surge of irritation.

“I do not care about that blasted prophecy,” he snapped.  “My son is safe; why should we continue to taunt the denizen with our presence?”

Apollo glowered, streaks of golden light beginning to radiate out from his form again.  “Whether or not you care about the prophecy is irrelevant!” he retorted, clearly incensed at Hades’ dismissal.  “The prophecy exists and will come to pass regardless of your cares or lack thereof.  Prophecies, no matter their form, are inevitable, Hades.”

His voice had fully recovered, Hades noticed absently.  Dark eyes glittered in the depths of the Delta behind his irate nephew, but he paid all of that no mind.

“This does not concern me,” he insisted, knuckles tight around the hilt of his sword.

“It concerns your son,” Apollo lashed back.  “If we are not the sunshine and darkness the lines describe, then Will and Nico remain at risk of being so instead and this trip was for naught.”

Hades felt his own power start to rise, dark and grey and light all intertwined.  “You are the one that constantly insists that those blasted things cannot be controlled,” he spat out.  “Yet now you talk as though things are a forgone conclusion unless we do something.”

“Prophecies cannot be controlled,” Apollo confirmed irritably, with the air of words spoken many times.  “But,” he continued before Hades could point out his hypocrisy, “they can be claimed.”

Hades paused.  “What are you talking about?” he demanded.

“Take the Great Prophecy that you cursed my Pythia over,” his nephew continued, no small amount of ire in the words.  “By rights, it should have fallen to Thalia, as the eldest of the generation.  She chose to reject it, joined my sister to evade it, and it passed on to Percy.  Percy then claimed it for himself, at which point the rest of the prophecy began to set into motion to align with his sixteenth birthday.”

The concept of people claiming prophecies as their own was not one Hades was familiar with, largely because he could not see an appeal in intentionally throwing himself into one – although he grudgingly accepted that part of the reason he had accompanied Apollo into Tartarus in the first place was because of that same prophecy that had specified sunshine and darkness.

A prophecy Apollo was now telling him had not begun yet.  Or was he trying to say that it had not necessarily begun, but if they decided that their actions did fulfil the spirit of the lines, that the prophecy would retroactively begin?

“Are you saying,” he began, drawing the words out as his mind raced through the possibilities Apollo appeared to be implying, “that if we leave now, the prophecy will not come to pass yet?”

Apollo was shaking his head before he had even finished speaking.

“Prophecies aren’t that simple,” he said – a fact Hades knew, because the blasted things always seemed to have a way of flipping things in directions they should not go.  “If we leave now, the prophecy may trigger regardless, treating us as sunshine and darkness, because the Fates have decreed that the events will come to pass at this time.  Or it may trigger in a few more days, weeks, months, years - perhaps with us, or perhaps with a different interpretation of ­sunshine and darkness.  Our choice may not change anything, or it may change everything, and we would never know the alternative solutions.”

“Not even you?” Hades asked, a little disbelieving.  He knew Apollo had a great degree of foresight, that the god of prophecy saw discarded future potentials at least as often as he saw what truly came to pass.

“If you’re asking if I’ve seen something I could with certainty say would be a consequence of this prophecy, the answer is no,” Apollo said flatly.  Hades did not fail to notice his specification of with certainty, but suspected Apollo would not elaborate no matter how pressed and decided to let it pass uncommented.

“And if we claimed this prophecy?” he asked instead.

“We would guarantee that the events of the prophecy are in motion, and that we are indeed the sunshine and darkness mentioned,” Apollo said bluntly.  “The future from this point would unfold in the direction that possibility entails, whatever that might be.”

Hades failed to see where the distinction lay between claiming a prophecy and controlling a prophecy, if the former forced its events to begin at the time of the claimant’s choosing, but for all his dislike of them, he could at least respect that it was Apollo’s domain and his nephew had a far greater understanding of the involved nuances than he could ever hope to grasp.

It was not so difficult to see the natural progression that might well fall if he and Apollo were not, in fact, sunshine and darkness, and left it nebulously up to the Fates to divine.  Hades remembered Apollo informing him that his son had been one of the ones to receive the prophecy – either it would naturally fall upon Nico’s shoulders as the next in line to the claim of darkness, or his son, attached as he was to Iapetus for reasons Hades had never been able to fathom, would take it upon himself to claim the prophecy if he believed it would lead to the titan’s rescue.

Even if the prophecy did not actually reference Iapetus or result in his rescue – although as Hades distinctly remembered the Piercer being a silver titan, he suspected it was not foolish to proceed with the awareness that it well could relate to Iapetus – seeing it through to its completion would still prevent Nico from becoming tangled up in the blasted thing, again.

Prophecies had hurt his son too many times already.

Looking at his nephew, he suspected that Apollo had already chosen what he wanted to do.  The younger god had thrown himself back into Tartarus directly on the heels of a previous, no doubt traumatic (the edge of Chaos, of all places) visit, all because he refused to let his own son enter the Pit.

Olympus, he had even sworn an oath on the Styx about the matter – Hades remembered the boom of the sealed oath reverberating through his palace.  It was possible, he realised, that Apollo had already made his claim, in the eyes of the Fates, back then.

It was also likely, Hades realised, that if that held true for Apollo, then he, too, had made the claim in the eyes of the Fates at the same time, when he had decreed that Nico would not return either, regardless of the fact that he had never sworn an oath on the matter.

His nephew had phrased it as a choice, but, Hades realised resignedly, he had made the choice before entering the Pit.  There could be no turning away now, not without placing Nico back in danger.

“Very well,” he said, sheathing his sword.  “We shall continue, and may this confounded prophecy of yours pass our sons by in exchange.”

Apollo gave a fierce grin, one that did not bode well for anything – even the Fates – that further threatened the demigods.  “May it indeed.”

The dark, glittering eyes in the Delta behind his nephew faded away silently.  Hades did not watch Styx go, exactly, but he recalled Apollo’s most recent oath, and how choosing to turn back could have triggered events into sending William into Tartarus regardless, and wondered if she had been watching and waiting to see if he would break that oath, too.

Apollo’s voice had been restored at some point during the mingling of their powers, healing and rebirth likely the two in particular responsible, and his grip on his bow was no longer unsure, although Hades had not yet seen him fire another arrow.  If Styx felt any displeasure at her consequences passing so soon, she hadn’t acted upon it.

For the moment, Hades decided it would be best to put it from his mind until they next crossed paths with the goddess.

Chapter 23>>

[wifiwuxians]

quick aside for my moment of befuddlement because ive always misunderstood the idiom "like a house on fire" LOL. i always thought it was a passive aggressive way of saying "dude, we would destroy each other lets not talk" so when i first read that I was like ??? context??? doesnt match??? did they misunderstand the idiom? DID I? then i googled it and you're right lol its a nice thing. (tho now i wanna put that in a fic bc i think that would be a delightful misunderstanding for characters to have). IM SO GLAD I MADE UR FUNK SLIGHTLY LESS FUNKY THO. you're great and you're super sweet ;w; if i had more self-confidence, i would definitely jump at the opportunity to befriend. maybe when i get more gutsy

BACK TO THE SONG LAN HATE THO. im sorry, im still in shock. just HOW. also..... how is my interpretation of them not the common one??? again, i stay so strictly to my lane i didnt know other lanes existed and i definitely dont want to hear about it bc i think song lan hate would hurt my heart. it already hurts my heart sometimes when i see xue yang hate and XUE YANG DESERVES IT. literally i despair at media literacy sometimes. i absolutely cannot understand how anyone consumed the same content as we did and decided to be mean to song lan.

YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY A FAVORITE ARTIST, DUDE. have you fucking SEEN your stuff?!? like, are you as blind as xiao xingchen? (my sweetie, may he forever regain his sight). your art is GORGEOUS. absolutely worthy of being a fav artist and i am sure im not the only one. for starters, your pieces always have a depth to them that sets them in a scene so freaking beautifully EVEN WHEN THERES NO BG or even in your more simplified styles. when you come out with a "silly phone doodle of xue yang", i see the freaking SKILL needed to make THAT adorable lil gremlin as just a 'silly doodle'. like BRO, youre so skilled that i think youve lost depth of how good an artist you really are. i wish i was smarter with art words so i could tell you in color theory exactly why your colors are so beautiful but im dumb and all i know is "color pretty" BUT SINCE I CAN PORTRAY STUFF WITH WORDS SOMETIMES i'll try to just express how your colors alone can evoke emotion and tell a story, how you use the contrast to make your art pop off the page, the way that the colors caress a scene and show so much more inside. its beautiful, your art is beautiful, i can look at a piece for such a long time and still find interesting details that make me smile. oki i'll stop beng weird now but like NEVER DOUBT YOU'RE FREAKING SKILL BRO. (shit i didnt even get to how your animations just break my brain oeuihgo i love)

lolololol dw abt telling me about the cannibalisms piece, i look Specifically disrespectfully at that one. not big into cannibalism but damn dude, there is a Mood to that piece and frankly, something that messed up sort of suits them on their worst days euorhgioeurh i like me a fluff au or a fix-it fic but damn those two can get Dark.

My otps are often rarepairs ;A; i never do it on purpose, im normally jumping headfirst into a more popular ship but then i just See the potential in two other lil guys and im like.... holdup, wait is no one else seeing those two??? AM I THE ONLY ONE WITNESSING THIS? (yes, yes i am). And the hyperfixation begins and its just me alone at a bar with no bartenders so i make my own food. but im a weird lil guy so my cocktails are always strange and im alone at the bar lol. tbh songxue is one of my LESS rarepair rarepairs. like... theres actually fics that i didnt write for them LOL. (there was one fandom where there were 40 fics for a ship and i wrote all 40. i am a sad and lonely lil loser lol)

(scuse me one of my fav artists said they think i'd write my otp well, i can die happy oaierhgoeirh i actually do write ff for songxue but hahaha im still just a silly anon but its rlly good to know that the person i think characterizes them best in the fandom (that ive seen) thinks i would do a good job with them aoeghuihr thankyou for the high praise, i guarantee i dont deserve it)

(sometimes i've wondered if the reason you draw/write them so well is bc you dont ship them? weird take but like, shippers have shipping goggles right? we see what we wanna see a lot of the time. but since you just think they'd be neat standing next to each other (much agree), you actually put thought into their characterizations and personality instead of just "this is how they'd F*CK" or smth similar. and bc the personalities and stuff mean way more to me than sexy stuff (thats the whole reason i ship them! their personalities!) the fact that even your crack stuff has such a good basis in who they are as people makes your content just so good. whereas sometimes i see content by shippers (no disrespect meant, everyone ships in their own way), its very actively ooc, usually for a kink fill, and im just... but what abt their personalities? what abt the whole reason i think they'd be good together if given the chance?! WHAT ABOUT THEM? and then u come around drawing them like that and i just wish more people portrayed them the way you do. this isnt meant as like an anti-smut thing, i like smut, its just that sometimes pwp is just two strangers who happen to have the character names of my blorbos and literally nothing else in common and theyre my BLORBOS. more power to people who like that stuff, i will stay in my lane and bother this poor lovely person who doesnt even like the ship but is kind enough to see their potential to be pals cuz damn im in it for the emotions)

heh heh yeah it means we'd get along well but i like that interpretation too and think it would make a great story!! here's to you becoming more gutsy! (though again you're very free to use an alt or something!)

genuinely why i don't go looking lmao... song lan fans are so fucking strong to have to deal with the shit people have said BUT nowadays the climate seems to be a lot better :D i see lots of thirst for him at least KFHKDJ and my appreciation post of him has 800 notes so that's hopeful at least! but same i don't get it at all (though honestly i will say a lot of character hate stems from shipping. legit.) but yeah regarding xy hate for me it's gotta be for the "right" reasons LMAO

LJHLFHFD ALL THE COMPLIMENTS MY BRAIN CANT TAKE EM!!!! genuinely!!! THANK YOU!!!! i do often tell myself 'your stuff doesn't have to be perfect it just has to spark joy' to feel better about not rendering a piece to hell and back and mostly taking the lazy route, though this year i really wanna branch out and try more! but all of this has shot me in the heart... emotion to me is the most important part of art, and one of my favorite responses to get is laughter, and you don't need a 4K HD piece for that haha BUT LISTEN YOURE NOT WEIRD EVERY ARTIST I KNOW WOULD KILL TO HEAR THIS im gonna frame it. but after ive printed and eaten another copy like wow you think i set the scene ;_; will cry (agsjdhf sorry i really do read everything im just. PROCESSING!!!)

ahaha yeah for sure! i do love me some cannibalism (i am the cannibal friend) but absolutely that was just intended as a very dark place. song lan has Had it (the premise was xy thinking hey, he likes me, let me remove the nails i am sure everything will be fineOHNOOO)

oh dude i have chronic rarepair disease. most of what i ship is stuff i've come up with myself so any content is me + 2 souls maximum who i have managed to drag with me and make content KSGKFJ (case in point, xuechao) i just have this compulsion to do what nobody else has done

(you do deserve it! and dont go looking i wanna keep being the one who portrays them best :p)

and hey maybe because YES!!!! my work almost exclusively stems from personality oh my god thank you for acknowledging that i think that is the highest praise of all... how their personalities gel together is SUPER important for me, shipping or otherwise!! i'm telling you you and i would get along really well since we agree on the fundamentals i think! like yeah there's nothing wrong with some good old self indulgence but ooc takes me out of stuff a fair bit, and trust me i feel like most people would think MY stuff is ooc! but the thing about the strangers with blorbo names made me laugh so hard lhKDHJAfhsg i am so guilty of that in the past, i've read my old stuff and i'm just like damn. i just projected onto these dudes. NO MORE (it is bound to still happen privately but hey, ultimately, write what you want to read)

song lan and xue yang, in the 'if given the chance' realm, have exactly my favorite type of duo dynamism which is why i cannot stop drawing them lol like some funky spin on boke/tsukkomi... generally speaking ">:D -_-" is visually my favorite thing to draw haha and again! i wanna say it's not an all-out global dislike, i just a) understand most people are NOT coming at it from where i am so it doesn't interest me/makes me sad, and B) understand WHY people wouldn't be into it. because wow. um. ouch. that sure is some shit

i am gonna take a moment to plug an author i think you might really enjoy, pomegranites on ao3 (@pometogo on here!) ! i can't speak for Every flavor in there being to your tastes but there are definitely a fair few fics that made me bonkers, namely not easily let go, written for song lan love week :D

[mellaithwen]

Tagged by @fcntasmas @nymika-arts @like-the-rest-of-la @princessfbi and @fleurdebeton (adjsksks getting tagged in things is like my love language ❤️)

🎶✨️When you get this you have to put 5 songs you actually listen to, publish, then send this ask to 10 of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool) ✨️🎶

I decided to look at my on repeat and repeat rewind playlists on spotify (just cause my liked playlist is loooong)

1. Honest by Kyndal Inskeep

I tell you that I'm whole, but I'm still healing. I tell you that I'm happy, but I'm grieving. Thought I was a fighter; I'm still in the fire. ‘cause if I'm being honest, I'm not being honest. I'll give you roses just hoping you don't see the weeds in my garden.

I’m literally looking at those lyrics and thinking well. That’s pretty self-explanatory? So I might skip the overshare. But uh. Yeah, easily playing that song daily.

2. Lost by Dermot Kennedy

I was lost 'til I found you. Now these songs will hold and hide your name

I realise nOONE will be surprised to see Dermot in this list (Ciara, I’m looking at you) but I never tire of him, or this song. When I’m writing fic, if a song plays that gels with the content/le vibe, I end up putting that song song on repeat until the fic’s finished, aaaaand at the time I was writing a 10k post-shooting 911 fic so you can imagine how long that took me.

3. Vienna by Billy Joel

slow down you’re doing fine, you can’t be everything you wanna be before your time…

my mams favourite song, and one of mine too. when I’d have anxiety attacks before appts I’d always put this on :’)

4. Arcade by Duncan Laurence

I'm afraid of all I am, my mind feels like a foreign land. Silence ringing inside my head. Please carry me, carry me, carry me home.

This is another “wrote a bunch of 911 fic to it and now I can’t stop listening” song, because the Buck vibes are. Off the charts.

5. Feather on the Clyde by Passenger

Well there's a river that runs through Glasgow, and makes her but it breaks her and takes her into the parks. And her current just like my blood flows, down from the hills, round aching bones to my restless heart.

Beautiful lyrics and lovely tune aside, I was listening to this a lot while I was reading/writing Star Trek AOS fic, and maaaan, I cannot stress enough the comforting nostalgia I have for LiveJournal circa 2009. The Kirk/McCoy fic was *so good* i still think about it often. Like Vixys’s sealed by a fragile touch series? Broke me. But like. In the best most poignantly painful way. If you’ve read it then. You know.

5+1. shhh there are no rules here. Mess by Noah Kahan.

I'll feed the dogs and I'll put all my pieces back together where they belong, and I'll say: "I'm a mess, I'm a mess, oh God, I'm a mess"

Just. yeah. Again. It me.

& I’ll tag @homerforsure @kananjarus @thekristen999 @littlespoonevan @lovebuck @shortsighted-owl @henswilsons @hattalove @hopeintheashes and @renecdote <33

[awritingarrow]

skitters in here like a feral little beast

so first of all it’s a good time to mention i have a content sideblog @aroacearrowace for my fics n art bc i have like 6k posts on this blog and none of them are coherent. that blog is the one u will see coherency on. this one is chaos and horrors and a tag system that only i can navigate. as u can see, i’m posting on this one. so we’re going to be crazy tonight

usually i’m like not active on tumblr at all bc discord is My True Home. so usually u will just see me going feral on discord BUT i am currently thinking abt @andizoidart​‘s boy and idk their discord/if they have one/what kind of servers they’re in so now i’m just going to b going feral on here for the next however long it takes to fic idea.

normally i am only this unhinged on private discord servers with 10 people including me inside. u are all about to witness the horrors sooo badly get exposed to my mental illness get consumed by my chaos

normally i would put long posts behind a read more but when u read more u can only find the posts on the Account It Was Posted On and unless u archive.org it u literally cannot find it if ur blog is deleted for whatever reason. also i get really annoyed when ppl put things behind a read more bc i wanna see the content i don’t wanna GO TO A SEPARATE PAGE. also this is my blog i do what i want. so anyway no read more bc again, i’m feral!

anyway i spent so long just explaining my incoherency so now u will witness the me

first of all: ghost apples! they’re really cool. i want to squish one in my hands like soap. watch it break like glass. very stimmie very gender very ogh. my immediate keyword associations: ice, glass, ghost. i could EASILY make an oc sans that’s all of those things and then shove them in to kiss dream and nightmare on the mouth but that’s the easy route. what i want to do is use ghost apples as a theme to an overarching story full of slowburn and suffering.

(prepare for technical writing terms that were literally made up by me and never elaborated on)

i usually write in a very metaphorical, emotional way. when you read each line of my work, i want it to make you feel an emotion and carry you to the next paragraph, which makes you feel a different emotion, guiding you on a journey of my very own design. metaphors. i like metaphors

now the keywords i chose were “ice,” “glass,” and “ghost.” i have two options here: make each segment of the story pertain to a different keyword, or make each character pertain to a different keyword. i like metaphors! so i’m doing the latter.

easily, i come up with:

nightmare - cold like ice, frozen to the touch. standoffish. you know elsa from frozen? like in that one scene the do u wanna build a snowman scene? yeah yeah that.

dream - glass. instantly, glass, bc of the statue thing. fragile, delicate, easy to break. i really really like a dream who can kick ur butt for no reason whatsoever so i have elected to put my own twist on this: dream is treated like glass, but he’s made of stone. (see what i did there?)

with that, nightmare feels like ice, but is treated like fire. dream is treated like glass, but feels like stone.

then, somnus.

definitely. would b very fun. if somnus felt and was treated the same, as a foil to dream and nightmare.

somnus’s keyword was ghost. i’m realllyyyy torn on what to do with this one bc there’s so many options.

i could literally kill him off, and then make him a ghost, but that’s like, obvious. there’s not a metaphor in that. also what’s the point of writing a fic about a character if u kill them off in the first five seconds.

according to andi’s post, he has dysfunctional magic. instantly makes me think of a disabled metaphor, i like it. he searches for artificial magic, and he’s a little worm guy. goes digging in the dirt and pulls out a fistful of worms. brilliant, absolutely brilliant.

it might be a lot of fun to change the dreamtale story around a lot. i want nightmare to get corrupted, that’s definitely staying. maybe i want to give them wings, for funsies. not for any particular reason, just funsies. buuuut idk if i want dream to get stoned in a physical sense.

my metaphor was that nightmare feels like ice, is treated like fire. dream is treated like glass, is made of stone... so i think what if i made that metaphor really really apparent with the apple incident part of the story

i really like the idea that in like, any dreamtale au, both dream and nightmare get abused. nightmare is physically abused, yeah, but dream is emotionally abused. with somnus, it might be fun to include neglect as a third form of abuse, just so we get all of the abuse. i never said i was going to be nice to these characters

i think that, with somnus left in the dust, and dream being treated as though he’s made of glass, and nightmare being treated like a threat, dream would be the first to act. dream eats the apple, first.

i’m guessing the sort of idea behind somnus is that he’s the wood? dream is the gold apples, nightmare the black, somnus is the wood. so i’m not doing a shattered dream scenario bc i wanna stick with each of those themes. idk what the positive apples would do to you if you ate one, bc like in canon they just make you really lucky?? i guess???? but in this i want something DRAMATIC to happen. since this is just a fic outline i’m metaphorically inserting brackets that say [something dramatic happens that get all three triplets fighting against the villagers]

nightmare gets corrupted like ice, dream like stone, and somnus..? hm. i mean i have to figure out what somnus does to the tree bc i don’t think it’s good to just up and eat tree bark from some random apple tree. i don’t think that’s healthy. there was a mention of a palismen in the post i think unless i read it wrong so i think,,,,, mb the tree starts falling apart bc the other two are eating the apples so then the tree just goes YOINK ur getting stolen into the tree now.

and since somnus’s prompt is ghost i think. i think. i think it would b very fun if the fic was about dream and nightmare trying to find their brother.

welcome to my brain everyone xD

[forabeatofadrum]

I, uhhhh, had fully told myself to write today, because for the first time in 1.5 weeks my day wasn’t occupied with my thesis, but instead I thought to myself: “Hey, what if I work more on my thesis anyway?”

So, hi! Hello and thank you @aroace-genderfluid-sheep, @facewithoutheart, @artsyunderstudy, @larkral, @quizasvivamos, @cerriddwenluna​ and @captain-aralias for the tags.

I mean, I did talk about some angsty fic ideas on my blog, but nothing happened. I mean, I now have 3 ideas for the same premise, thanks to @cerriddwenluna and @thnxforknowingme, but I didn’t write and if I am going to write then I really wanna focus on finishing existing WIPs. I did call my mum on information re: the glass bottles. We’re donating them! My mother also almost cried when she heard the news.

So instead of new fic, I’m going to show you something fun. Or I think it is fun. For my thesis, I’ve had 7 interviews so far. I ask my respondents to talk about media and now I started analysing the first 6 interviews. While doing that, I wrote down which TV shows, movies and books have been mentioned by these 7 ladies. Under cut with the weather, because it is a lot:

Glee

The Bold Type

Atypical

Killing Eve

Heartstopper

Stranger Things

Outer Banks

Community

Alien

The Last of Us

Adventure Time

She-Ra

Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Heroes of Olympus

A Portrait of a Lady On Fire

ANNE+

Heartbreaker

Sex Education

The Danish Girl

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World

Star Trek

Deep Space Nine

Ocean’s 8*

The Prom

Brave*

Aladdin*

A movie with George Clooney and a chick*

Married At First Sight

Dix Pour Cent

Madre Solo Hay Dos

Black Panther*

The Owl House

Carol

Black Mirror: San Junipero

Puss In Boots 2*

One Day At A Time

Shadow and Bone

Once Upon A Time

Brooklyn Nine-Nine

A Court of Thorns and Roses

The Vampire Diaries

Lucifer

Supernatural

Orphan Black

Sense8

Something from the Wachowski’s about a transgender bowling club

Disclosure

In The Heights

Ellen Degeneres on The Oprah Winfrey Show

Vrouwenvleugel

Orange is the new Black

Pacific Drive

Gia

Girl, Interrupted

Snowpiercer

Your Place Or Mine

Heartbreak High

I Am Not Okay With This

Special

Wednesday

It is cool to see different interpretations of them, especially from stuff that I also like. They teach me new ways to look at titles I love. Another note is that not every title was discussed in a positive light. In fact, some titles were liked by some, but disliked by others.

* indicates that they didn’t have anything to say re: queer rep, but the show/movie just came up.

Kinda interesting to see such a wide variety, and I am only halfway with my interviews. Some titles are mentioned by multiple people, others are only mentioned once. (For example, only one person mentioned Glee, which is maybe a good thing because I need to be totally neutral and pretend that what people say is completely new information, and I cannot be normal about this show.) (I’m literally listening to Glee while I type this.) (Although, okay, I do mention Glee myself, if needed, for the topic of queercoding/queerbaiting/heteroflexibility.)

Not really sure what to do with this and also not really sure y’all care, but hey, I am having fun!

And now, the weather: @blurglesmurfklaine @coffeegleek @esperantoauthor @otherworldsivelivedin @caramelcoffeeaddict @sillyunicorn @bazzybelle @dragoneggos @raenestee @tectonicduck @nightimedreamersworld @urban-sith @thnxforknowingme @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @takitalks @justgleekout @tea-brigade @ivelovedhimthroughworse @moodandmist @whogaveyoupermission @bookish-bogwitch @confused-bi-queer @ionlydrinkhotwater @1908jmd @special-bc-ur-part-of-it @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @cutestkilla @nausikaaa/@wellbelesbian @martsonmars  @shrekgogurt @boyinjeans

[webbedphantom]

So I wanna talk about this guy-

Meta Spider is one of the coolest concepts I've ever come up with, somewhat inspired by AUs where Joker or someone else gets Yaldy's power, as well as a very long and very epic fanfic where Yaldy possesses all the Thieves except Joker and tries to resume his plans. (I'd share what the fic was, but I can't remember what it was called sadly, which sucks because I never finished it-)

The idea here was also somewhat inspired by the beginning of NWH, where I was considering the idea of Aaron's identity being revealed, but the issue was that I didn't know how to walk that back tastefully. Keep in mind, NWH released before I'd started writing here, and Twitter doesn't exactly do the concept of verses.

The solution I came up with was simple, a deal with the devil. Which if you're at all familiar with Spider-Man comics, sounds really bad, but I promise this is better than that dumpster fire.

After Aaron begins to stress over how much his life is ruined, and how it has put all his friends in danger, Yaldabaoth appears with a deal. He will manipulate the minds of the masses to forget who Phantom Spider is, though he won't be able to do so for anyone with a Persona or anything similar, meaning the team, Akechi, Shido, and a few others would still remember. And the only thing he asks is to borrow Aaron's body for 24 hours, and more importantly, his innate connection to the Metaverse.

He doesn't agree easily, and he makes sure there are rules a limitations on what Yaldy can do during those 24 hours. Obviously, he's trying to fuse the worlds together, but do that in Aaron's body will require him to get his hands dirty, so he only agrees on a few conditions.

He cannot kill anyone

He cannot harm his friends

He will give Aaron a year to prepare. Not much point in reverting the status quo if he doesn't have time to enjoy it.

Yaldabaoth agrees to not harm his allies, as long as they don't get in his way. If they do, they're fair game, though he still cannot kill them. As for the year to prepare, Yaldabaoth will only agree to a month to get his things in order. He knows if he gives Aaron too long, he's likely to devise away to limit him even further.

Aaron reluctantly accepts.

He doesn't feel he has a choice. His identity being out puts everyone around him at risk. If he ever wants to be in their lives again, if he wants to keep them safe, he has to take this deal.

But he doesn't keep it a secret from them. As soon as the deal is made, he goes and he tells them about it. Obviously, they aren't particularly happy about this, but they understand why he agreed.

So they prepare. They all mark the day of the takeover on their calendars, and they gear up. They don't have to beat him, they just need to stall him.

Now the exact events of what happens during those 24 hours, I've never come up with. Mostly because since this was going to be an event, I was going to leave the details up to whoever I was writing with. But it's a really interesting idea, that I'd love to write sometime!

What I will say is that this would be a really tough fight. Once he knows the Thieves are trying to stop him, he isn't going to hold back much, he will hit them with everything he has as long as he knows they can take it. Aaron won't be able to resist his control, all he can do is nudge things a little to make sure he abides by the terms of the deal. And the only way he can get control back early is if Yaldabaoth breaks his word, which would involve either killing someone or harming one of Aaron's confidants who never got in his way, which aren't exactly ideal.

Last thing I'll say is while I don't have the specifics of the event laid out, I do know what happens if they succeed. Aaron gets his body back, and proceeds to pass the heck out for a few days. But when he wakes, he starts looking into those abilities Yaldabaoth used, to see if he can actually just... do that.

What are those abilities? Don't worry, I've got a post in the works that will explain exactly how powerful Aaron can be. (As well as explain why a lot of those powers won't be seen in a majority of his verses)

[lemonzestywrites]

weekend wip game

tagged by the wonderful @your-catfish-friend thank you love!!

rules: list your WIPs below (if you only write one fic at a time, feel free to include future WIPs/ideas!) then answer the following questions. then, tag as many people as you have WIPs (or more)

1. WIP list

wips

• a foundation of trust and love we cannot see (the big beast in question! my buddie fwb bdsm fic)

• 10 Surefire Ways To Be A Better Lover: A Guide on Strengthening Your Relationship (buck reads through a relationship self-help book while hooking up with eddie just guys being bros)

• fell in love with the fire long ago (buddie firewatch au!!)

• go on running (straight into my arms) (werewolf!buck x vampire!eddie smut)

2. which one of your wips is currently the longest?

afotalwcs absolutely (it’s at 73k rn and counting)

3. which wip do you expect will end up the longest?

again definitely afotalwcs- it’s already fucking massive and i’m nowhere near finished with it. like i genuinely don’t know what the end word count will be but i don’t think i’ll be surprised if i end up doubling it before it’s done

4. which wip if your favorite to write/the most enjoyable to write? why?

of definitely afotalwcs (i’m sensing a theme here) but that’s probably just cause i’m working on it the most rn

i also love fell in love with the fire long ago just cause it’s an au i’ve wanted to do for fucking ever now

5. which wip do you find the most intimidating to write? why?

it’s a good mix between fell in love with the fire along ago just cause there’s so much fucking research involved in that fic and 10 Surefire Ways To Be A Better Lover: A Guide on Strengthening Your Relationship cause i’ve seriously neglected her for a little while and im always like that with fic i haven’t touch her in a while

6. which wip do you experience the most self doubt with? why?

fell in love with the fire long ago- like with smut fics i always now someone will enjoy them but i feel like for me at least since it’s an au too im putting a different kind of care and effort into it by building the timeline/setting and i get in my head a lot about making it sure if lands as best it can

7. which of your wips will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? why?

i probably will for all of them tbh! i do my best to have my fics beta read (i have two of the bestest friends irl that are so kind to be able to read my fics for me) except the times they’re both extremely busy and i get very impatient and i post without them (baby i’m sorry-)

but seriously especially the longer fics that i spent the most time working in i definitely will just cause i wanna make sure they’re especially good/ read well to a first time reader

8) have any of your wips been struck by the curse of writers block?

YES. 10 Surefire Ways To Be A Better Lover: A Guide on Strengthening Your Relationship has been ons temporal hiatus rn (my poor poor baby) but i really wanna get back to writing for her soon

9. which wip has your favorite oc? tell us about them?

i don’t really have any ocs in my fics to be completely honest

afotalwcs has some background characters for calls and what not that i made up that i’m enjoying writing (anxiety ridden dominatrix in chapter one i love you)

10. which wip is the sexiest?

afotalwcs most likely which is a little bit of a given

though go on running (straight into my arms) is a close second cause i feel like i out a lot of heartfelt emotion into that one

11. which wip is the angstiest?

ooh probably fell in love with the fire long ago since there’s a LOT of pining there and decent amount of miscommunication (ironic given the fact they talk all the fucking time in that fic lmao)

12. which wip has the best characterization (in your humble opinion)?

i wanna go with fell in love with the fire long ago since for me most of his well i view characterization comes from dialogue and that fic is chalk full of it so i think it’s an easier translation

although there is some banter in 10 Surefire Ways To Be A Better Lover: A Guide on Strengthening Your Relationship that feels very true to buck and eddie

13. which wip has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

oh my god hands down fell in love with the fire long ago

it takes place in the middle of the sierra national forest (roughly) and let me tell you it’s so fun to research and picture how beautiful that park looks while writing

14. which wip have you work the hardest on?

id say afotalwcs just cause it’s so long and ive definitely been working on it the longest now

15. which wip do you have the highest expectations for? why?

oooh definitely afotalwcs- i’ve put a lot into writing that one so i really really want in to pay off, which i know it will since even if a couple people enjoy it i’ll be super happy too

it’s already gotten so much love and i haven’t even posted more than a couple random chunks and seriously it makes my world seeing people get excited for it

16. do you dream about any of your wips?

i day dream! that’s mostly cause i space out a fuck ton but no i don’t dream about my works in my sleep though

i wish i did cause maybe that would help my ny goddamn writers block LMAO

17. do any of your wips have particular complexities that your other fics don’t?

i like to think they all have their little quirks

fell in love with the fire long ago is very dialogue heavy since they’re talking through handheld radios and since it’s from eddie’s pov, bucks lines spoken through the radio are all in italics

10 Surefire Ways To Be A Better Lover: A Guide on Strengthening Your Relationship follows as buck is reading through a relationship self help book and each section is separated by a little excerpt from made up book which i enough was super fun

18. which wip is the funniest or has the most humor?

i’d say likely fell in love with the fire long ago just cause they’re alway talking they’re also alway bantering too

but also even though it is a smut fic i do wanna say afotalwcs as well- i think it’s very important for writing buck and eddie’s dynamic that even something like them fucking would be very light and fun and in some parts. honestly some of my personal favorite lines/moments are in that fic

19. do any of your wips contain outside povs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? how are you finding that process?

currently no! i mainly just stick to writing between buck or eddie’s pov (mainly eddie’s cause i find his the easiest to write in)

but it’s something i definitely want to work with one day!

20. tell us one thing we don’t know about one or more of your wips.

i’ll be nice and tell you one of each ;)

a foundation of trust and love we cannot see is currently 73k words and 17 chapters long. i rewrote the ending for this fic three times before landing on something that felt satisfying to me

10 Surefire Ways To Be A Better Lover: A Guide on Strengthening Your Relationship this monster of a fic is entirely from bucks pov which is most very difficult since i don’t write from his pov a lot and kind of easy cause i tend to be less restrained when i speak from his mindset

fell in love with the fire long ago was originally going to be a very striking resemblance to the game firewatch (the video game the au was going to be based off of) but i changed my mind about keeping the plot the same halfway through writing. instead it’ll just then being fire lookouts

go on running (straight into my arms) i made up all my own lore for both rb werewolves and vampires in this fic cause i kept finding inconsistencies between different variations before i finally yelled “fuck it!” and just did my own thing (can you tell i’m a virgo?)

no pressure tagging my dear friends @paranoidbean @housewifebuck @eddiebabygirldiaz and anyone else that would like to give this a go!!

[hyunverse]

okay so i am DEF not tearing up at how adorable that playlist is wtf 😭💔💔💔 that is literally the cutest thing i’ve ever seen and all those songs are so perfect for him. so soft rn i love it. ALSO ROMEO AND JULIET INSPO ?? MY HEART IS EVEN MORE BROKEN NOW 😩 when i used to write fanfics, dialogue was always my fave part too :)). i feel like you can do so much w it and express so much so easily yk ? and hyunjin dialogue always make me weak in the knees like you guys just know how to write him and write what he’d say so accurately

wishing you luck at bowling today and also for the skz album 🙏🏼 being the oldest sibling, i would 100% buy my siblings an album if they were into kpop so hopefully he’ll do the same

andddd gonna make it easier for you and reply to my other one here ^_^ apologies again for how frazzled i am 😭 but yea the lip piercing on hyunjin just…. no words can explain. like genuinely i cannot explain the way it makes me feel. it’s just perfect. and good lord purple minho 😩😩😩 THE FLUFFY STYLING TOO ??? EVEN BETTER. LIKE ITS SO GOOD ??? i need more colored hair minho i feel like it’s so underrated. AND SEUNGMIN i wanna see more colors on him bc his hair is so perfect. or even bringing the pink bangs back.. yes please 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

- 🐈‍⬛

i feel like a majority of stayblr writers are able to write so well for him due to the fact that he is a complete hopeless romantic. it’s easy for romance writers to write him because he himself is the epitome of romance, you get me? written by a woman type of man. it’s also why i find it easy to make a playlist for him, cause i feel like any love songs would suit hyune </3 you’re right, dialogues are super fun. says a lot about a character and i would say dialogues are the most impactful parts in a fic!!

it’d be tmr for me! it is still the same day rn hehe, wednesday, eighth of march here ^__^ my timezone is gmt +8. what’s yours, if you don’t mind me asking? i’m also actually the oldest sibling, so we’re twinning again hehehe. ‘m always the one to buy my siblings things, so it wouldn’t hurt to ask for something just ONCE, right. . . ? (completely ignoring how i one time coaxed my brother into buying me genshin impact primogems LOL)

don’t apologize, milov. i, too, am a mess. i honestly feel like i could ramble to u abt anything for ages. one of it being hyunjin’s (alleged) tongue piercing predebut AND that belly button piercing in play with fire dance cover 🗣 mmm curls deffo look good on minho. likeeeeeeee brooooo. makes him look all boyish and and dreamy and and looking like my future hubby 🤠 you don’t understand just what i would do to get strawberry blonde minho. gonna call him my strawb strawbs 💭 for the love of god jype pls change seungmin’s hair colour sometimes 😔🙏 that hairstyle he had during 2022 mama awards tho? bias wrecked everybody and they mamas. i was left absolutely BAFFLED. a couple of stays i know ended up seungmin biased because of the look and I GET IT 💯 maxident was his era too HE OWNEDDDDD IT WITH THEM PINK BANGS. i need and i mean i NEED that blue hyune had on seungmin. grunge seungmin would END kpop i’m telling UUU. omw to the cuties dorm to put hair dye in his shampoo, wanna join? we can put some in minho’s shampoo too zzzZzz.