#writing at 1am and not happy with it

[thejeangreysummers]

SUMMER IN NOVEMBER | simon x afab reader

warnings: making out, touching, shared shower time but no smut yet. traumatized simon with negative self worth post near death experience, reader is not in the military by choice, dubcon regarding tits if you squint, and possessive simon. (not proofread we die like men ig)

Simon loves the desperation in your first kiss, you kiss him through the mask clumsily with your arms around his neck. For the first time his reflexes loose their rigidity as he barely closes his eyes as you’re pulling away. Flushed, shamefaced, mumbling thank god you’re safe and turning away.

Simon tugs you by the wrist, it’s not a request by the way he’s studying you. You’re ready for the lecture about professionalism or a comment about how you’re old enough to know better than to pull a stunt like this. He’s never barked at you the way he does with the team. Never complains when you sit in his chair, doesn’t say anything when you drink out of his mug, and when you go out he’s paying your tab before you can touch it.

This will be the breaking point, the last time he tolerates you, now he’s going to tell you to go fuck yourself for sure. He tells you to close your eyes and you’re ready for him to scream at you bracing yourself not to cry.

Ghost kisses you roughly, sucking on your bottom lip, demanding you open yourself to him. In seconds he has you against the wall caging you in as he sucks on your neck, it’s better than the wet dreams you’ve been having with just this one kiss. All your nerve ending ache for him and you’re squirming, Simon pulls away eyes wide.

He’s still got blood tainted on his uniform, his hands have gunpowder residue — who is he to kiss you? You deserve more than a single night of him fucking you until you can’t stand. You don’t belong amongst all this carnage. You don’t belong with him.

Yet, you’re pulling him by his collar cradling his face in your small hands, kissing him again, softer like you’re sipping on his mouth, savoring it until he leaves again. Simon doesn’t want to share you with the wraith inside him, he wants all your sunlight to soak into him instead.

He lets you tug him to the infirmary, watches you re-reading the patient portal notes on your phone while walking to his room. When he complains, you silence his smart ass comments about his injuries when you slide into his lap. You curl into him like a cat searching for warmth, praise, and petting. He keens at your attention, your excessive worry, and your newfound display of affection. Wondering if after tonight you’ll come to your senses and never make him tea in the middle of the night again. He could make you beg for his mouth, but he can’t make you love him.

Simon leans into you as you set up a shower for him palming at your waist, digging his fingers into your hips, hovering over the button of your cargo pants. He lets you undress him just in his boxers and balaclava, you press a shaky kiss to the middle of his chest promising to wait for him in the bedroom. For the first time Simon doesn’t want to be alone, he catches himself asking you to join him in the shower. He doesn’t want to fuck you in the shower, he just wants you stay, but he doesn’t know how to justify the yearning he’s been holding for you. You don’t complicate things for him, just let him unzip your pants and unhook your bra. In the shower you stand away from the stream of hot water, gently scrubbing the sweat and exhaustion off his skin. You look away from his half hard cock as you run a washcloth over his calves, after doting on him you press a kiss to his cloth covered mouth. You gently trace the seam of his mask and tell him you’re leaving so he wash his intimates. Simon emerges out the steamy shower to a warm towel and neatly folded night clothes beside a clean balaclava with its signature skull.

That night your hands don’t linger down to his waist, you let him lay his head on your chest, you scratch down his upper back until you fall asleep. You never ask him for more than he’s willing to give, you’re so innocently interrupting the hardened exterior he presents, and you’re too naive to know he wanted you from the minute you looked up at him.

Simon needs one minute with his bare face against your tits. He knows from carrying you home after a drink turns to two, you’re affectionate until you’re fighting sleep you can’t be stirred. He knows you wouldn’t deny him this if you were awake. He’s slipping off the mask nuzzling his face against your tits into the curve of your neck until he’s on top of you leaning his forehead against yours and barely kissing your mouth.

He slips on his mask again, unwilling to let you see him vying for your love, waiting for your praise. He’s leaves the bed, wondering if he should pretend this night never happened, when you’re calling out his name in your sleep. Simon returns to the bed as you’re gasping for air, you heave with sobs as he pulls you into his chest. You’re begging him not to die, not to disappear, not to abandon you.

“I love you, you can’t leave.”

For the first time in the years he’s known you, something emerges that is unyielding— more than a watery sob this is a practically a prayer. Your wish may be more than you bargained for, but you belong to him now. If you’ll take him as he is sharp teeth, crooked, and scarred he must find a way to live with himself. One day you’ll know that you’re the first to have touched his broken nose, scarred cupid’s bow, and uneven shave. He wasn’t held like this even when he was a child, but you’re holding onto him for dear life and you love him.

The way you see through everyone extends past human understanding, you’re both paranormal in your own ways. You’re a collection of colorful persistent oddities, your curious consumptions forced you into this line of business. Your mistakes is his dumb luck, he’s claiming your love as his prize. You’re too pretty a bird to stay in these barracks, kept in this cage, consumed by all this corruption. After everything his atonement will be keeping you safe. Men may change, but the self serving nature of ghosts linger. The prospect of spoiling you rotten, earning your smile, and making you whimper his name will be his own pleasures one day.

[happyk44]

Obsessing over the concept of Percy having so many dreams about Nico dying in front of him in different ways at camp or on quests and he has no idea what to do about them so he starts trying to get Nico to hang out with him and tries asking him in subtle ways about what's going on, trying to figure out if Nico is in dangerous without possibly freaking him out about Percy's dreams (who would feel safe if someone kept having dreams about them being murdered by faceless entities in orange shirts or killed by monsters)i

It goes nowhere. Nico is apparently fine, flitting between camp and the underworld and New Rome as he wishes. With more underworld kids coming into CHB for the summer, he's started spending more and more time there though, and all Percy can think of orange shirts and Nico's blood drenched in them

Eventually he caves and drives to camp, hunting down and cornering Clovis, who's passed out in a sunbeam like a cat. Percy steps into the grass and kicks him gently. Clovis wakes slow and tilts his face towards Percy. He stretches long, yawns loud. Percy stifles a responding yawn and squats.

"What's up, Percy?" Clovis hums.

Percy tugs at his fingers as he finds the right words. "I keep having shitry dreams," he decides on. Clovis arches a brow. Percy sits back and pinches the bridge of his nose. "What does it mean when you keep having dreams about someone dying?"

Baby blue blanket creasing, Clovis cocks his head. "Who's dying?"

Percy grits his teeth. "Does it matter?"

"Well, some dreams are just subconscious processing and some are my siblings being weird." Clovis blinks slow. People compare him to cows a lot, that baby softness on his cheeks and easy going demeanour. But Percy sees a cat more than anything. Domesticated and pampered. "And some are prophetic."

The grit of his teeth begins to hurt his jaw. "How do you know which one is which?"

Clovis hums and sits up slowly. He reaches down to his toes and flexes with a long groaning grunt. He gives a little sigh as he pulls away. "Well, I'd have to ask them if they're doing things. As for subconscious processing, that's just what's going on in your brain. And prophecies..." He hums thoughtfully. "I guess you wouldn't know until it happens." With half-closed eyes, he faces Percy. His head lags to the side. "So is there anything going on your brain to worry about this person dying?"

"Well, there is now," Percy says through gritted teeth. Clovis laughs, a trilling dreamy sound. Percy glares at him. "Clovis."

He shrugs. "I can ask around tonight." He picks at a blade of grass. "Who is it?"

Behind them, Nico is calling out to someone. It makes Percy's skin crawl. Kids laugh and Nico laughs and Percy wants to grab him and hide him. Clovis's bright orange camp shirt makes him feel like a bull, caged up with some idiot waving a red flag in front of him. He needs to rush forward and break the things bothering him. Skewer them and feel their blood drip down his skin.

He's starting to lose his mind.

"It doesn't matter." He too aware that the gap between question and answer was too long.

Clovis isn't looking at him but he feels watched anyway. "It could," Clovis says. "But at least I know it's not Annabeth. Or Grover." Percy startles and Clovis's grin is soft. "If it was, you would have said it before you even sat down." He gives another big stretch then flops back on his blanket, rolling over into a warmer brighter patch of sun. "Actually, you'd say if it was anyone." He tucks his legs up into his chest. "You'd keep quiet because you don't want to worry them. Which means there's probably some real concern there."

His eyes slide fully shut and he doesn't speak again. Heart pounding, Percy watches his serene face. He doesn't like that Clovis picked him apart like that. But not much he can complain or deny in it.

Knees whining, he stands slow. Part of him misses the Achilles' Curse for that reason alone. He liked it more when his body didn't hurt because of constant strenuous activity and the passage of time. He runs a hand through his hair.

What is he supposed to do? Wait for Clovis to tell him that his siblings were being assholes for no reason? To sit down and meditate about the reason his mind was focused in on Nico dying in various ways? Or worry unendingly that the universe was giving him a sneak peek at the future and soon he'd be standing at Nico's memorial, trying to figure out which person around him was the killer?

"Percy!"

He startles and turns. His skin crawls as Nico jogs up to him. There's a little boy practically pinned to his side. The closet they grow, the more Percy wants to shove Nico down deep where no one can find him. Ocean depths. He'd like the darkness, Percy thinks. Then he slaps the thought away as his arms begin to rise, his gut yanking towards the beach.

"Hey." It comes out breathless and wispy. "What's up?"

Nico's smile is gentle. It makes Percy's stomach cramp, the idea of it gone forever, bled out on forest grass. "Joel and I were seeing if he could summon ghosts." He gazes down at the little boy still tucked into his side. The kid is looking at Clovis. "Might be a bit of a trial for him though."

When the kid doesn't stop looking at Clovis, Nico pinches his ear and he tucks his face into Nico's side instead. He gives a ragged breath but Nico's easygoing look doesn't change.

It flits to the top of his tongue, but Nico answers before Percy has a chance to open his mouth.

"Ker," he says, "is his mom."

There is little Percy has forgotten from any of his underworld adventures, including being chased by those spirits while trying to stop Ethan from escaping with the sword. Violent death and disease. Feasted on human flesh. They couldn't kill, but they could harm and give death a jumpstart.

Percy's shoulder gives a phantom throb at the reminder.

"Didn't know she'd be interested in having kids," he says.

Nico's lip twitches and his arm curved around Joel's shoulders tightens him closer. "He's technically adopted." Joel's face tilts further away from Percy. "She thought he was cute."

There's definitely more to that story that Percy doesn't know how to ask about, so he just agrees passively that Joel is cute and they move on. Joel doesn't speak to anyone but Nico or make eye contact. He's a barnacle on Nico's side.

All Percy can focus on is his bright orange shirt and the violent death that thrums in his veins and how close he is to Nico. It would be accidental, Percy thinks, if Joel killed him. It's clear he likes Nico. It would be accidental if Nico was torn to shreds.

Percy wonders how easy it would be to get water into his lungs from the bottle he drinks from, how suspicious it would be if he drowned on dry land. Quickly he leaves with rushed goodbye. His hands are already plunging into pockets for his keys. He doesn't hear Nico's goodbye.

That night he dreads his dreams more than ever.

Joel is there this time. His face is wet, half hidden in shadows. Nico is front of him, sword out, protective. Then things slip and it's not Nico and Joel anymore, but one older girl and two younger kids behind her. The kids look terrified but the girl is enraged. Her obsidian sword slashes at someone rushing forward.

The world is too bright, Percy thinks. There are no shadows. It's like the sun is standing in front of them.

The girl shouts and beats off a pair of people who charge at her. With snapped necks, they fall to the ground in front of her. She yells and shoves her sword into the ground.

It splits so easily. The grass trembles. The earth rumbles. Skeletal hands claw out of the ground. Hazy spectres join them. The girl turns and grabs the kids while people fight the entities she summoned. The world is so bright, but there's shadows at the edge of the sunlight. She won't stop running. One of the kids runs alongside her. The other is held in her arms.

The shadows twist and flex towards them. It's unable to spread into the light. They're closing in. The first kid is closer, free of the weight of another person. The shadows greet her but she stumbles to a sudden stop, spinning around and staring pleadingly at the girl Percy realizes is one of Nico's half-sisters from long before.

Are the kids' Joel's half-siblings? he wonders.

"Go!" the girl shouts. The kid hesitates but the girl shouts again, "GO!"

The shadows swallow the kid with a wispy black maw. The girl is almost there when the ground creaks and groans. It rumbles violently, separating and splitting at the very seams. The earth opens before her.

Percy can see the decision she makes before she makes it, jumping over a gap in the earth before it splits too wide. She doesn't stop running even as she tosses the other kid into the air. He screams, a bloodcurdling thing that chills Percy down to his bones.

The shadows catch him. And he's gone.

The girl pants, gripping her knees as she bends over. The earth stops quaking. There's a few seconds where the only sound is panting. But as the people they were fleeing from close in, the girl laughs breathlessly and turns around.

"Isn't it fun when we chase each other?" she says. "I think we should do that more."

The leader of the little group is some tall boy who looks like he's never smiled in his life. He's bulky. Each muscle bulges and he glares. The girl is unphased.

"How dare you?" he seethes.

She rolls her eyes. "Well, my dad protects their parents." She grins, eyes dark like the void. Her hands flex at her side. "Why shouldn't I protect them? Especially since you refuse to listen to reason." She gestures widely. "Just because Chthonic is in the title doesn't mean it's bad. Chthonic means dirt, earth." She just her chin towards one of the kids. "You are technically Chthonic." She shrugs. "Besides, you fucking morons, they're kids. What kind of dipshit is scared of little kids just because their dad picks up dead people for a living?"

Her arms haven't lowered from where she's spread them. Her hands flex again, each finger tapping in the air, one after the other. Percy can't hear anything else that's said. It all goes muffled. It's obvious arguing. Judging from the pulled weapons, there are threats abound.

Then the earth breaks.

It's not the same as the earthquake before. This is a complete cave-in, the ground falling out from under their feet. She's the only person who doesn't look terrified to be falling. They all disappear into darkness. Like teeth chomping, the earth slams back together and seals itself over.

Then there's his ceiling. His fan is going in fast circles, a soft whrrrrr.

Sweat is sticky against his neck. Oh, he thinks.

Violent death and disease being present at every meal, every training, every campfire song. Someone was probably unnerved by it. Unnerved by him. Nico's protective hold was a wall in front of the bomb. It needed to be broken down so the danger could be disposed of, bomb defused.

He doesn't know when he grabbed his phone. Only aware of it pressed to his ear by the ringing. It goes for a while. His stomach churns.

A tired "H'lo?" passes through.

His stomach doesn't settle. "Hey, Nico. Sorry." He glances at his clock and winces. "Did I wake up?"

Nico snorts. "No," he grumbles. "I'm a vampire." Quiet breathing, tense silence. "Percy? Why are we on the phone right now?"

"I..." Percy pauses. Glances up to his ceiling fan, still spinning in fast circles. "I just. Had a weird dream." Nico makes a "go on" noise. Percy bites his lip and leans against the wall, drawing his knees up to his bare chest. "Have any of your siblings had to..."

Fight against other campers? Run with a pair of kids people wanted to kill because they thought they were dangerous? Commit suicide to stop those from going after the kids once they were safely away somewhere else?

There's nothing good in those questions.

He closes his eyes. "What was camp like for your siblings? Before?"

"Uh." There's some rustling. "Not good. Most campers didn't trust us because of the whole Underworld children thing. Lucky for them, my dad doesn't really go around spawning kids on a monthly basis."

Percy snorted. His fingers wove themselves into his sheets so tight they started to go numb.

"But we didn't have a lot of friends. People avoided us."

Blood on dark grass flickers through Percy's mind. "Or killed you," he blurts out.

His mind shuts down at the words. He can't process what he's said, barely hearing the whrrr of his ceiling fan or the sound of his own breath. His skin floats away from him. Then pulls back solid when Nico says, "How did you know that?"

He swallows thickly. "Like I said. Weird dream."

"About my siblings being killed at camp?"

Nico viciously protecting Joel comes to mind and sticks in place. "No," he says after a beat. "Technically I think she committed murder-suicide."

"Which one?"

Percy hates that question. Sourness floods his tongue and he answers with a gritted, "I didn't get a name. She was fighting off other campers, trying to protect a couple other kids from getting hurt."

A sarcastic little laugh echoes through the receiver. "Yeah, that's happen more than once."

The sheets unwind from his numb fingertips. "Fuck."

"It's been over five thousand years, Percy," Nico says. "Things tend to repeat themselves a few times." Percy doesn't know what to say to that. "Why were you dreaming about one of my sisters anyway?"

"I don't know," he says. It's the truth. He has no idea. But he has theories. And he has fears. "She was just there."

Nico is quiet. The sound of his breathing is steady, and Percy hones in on it. He matches each inhale and exhale with his own breaths.

When Nico does speak again, he almost sounds far away. "That's odd." There's a creak and a thump, like feet hitting the tile. "Is that why you were talking to Clovis?"

No. "Yeah."

"Interesting." His voice is faint, before suddenly loud and fast. "Hey, I have to go."

Percy's stomach churns violently. "But-"

His words speed fast together as he says, "I have to go do something, I'll call you back later."

There's no dial tone, just a loud clattering that makes Percy's heart drop directly into his stomach. Clovis's sleepy voice eclipses to max volume in his head. And prophecies... I guess you wouldn't know until it happens.

A dozen thoughts blur through his mind as he hikes up the window to the fire escape outside his bedroom. He should tell his mom he's leaving, he should call Grover, he should call Annabeth, he should make someone check on Nico.

He gropes around the top of his dresser for a spare dog whistle then blows through it hard and sharp as he clambours out through the window, shirtless, shoeless, and panicking.

Mrs. O'Leary barks up at him from the dark alleyway. Shadows still cling to her dark fur. He doesn't even bother racing down the stairs. Just throws himself over the railing. Nico's name echoes in his head like a broken record as he falls. Soft fur grips tight in his hands. He doesn't feel the pain of landing, shadows swallowing them both before he can even recognize that he did.

It's strange to appear just a few feet away from a gaggle of kids threatening your cousin and the kid he's chosen to protect. Behind the group yelling words Percy can't hear under the roar of blood in his ears, there's a couple other kids - twins of Erebus - sneaking towards them.

They get close.

But they get caught.

Nico snaps forward and Percy's hitting the ground before he understands what's happening. It goes by so fast, he can barely remember his own actions. Everyone's still breathing. But banged up heavily, or unconscious. Joel is crying wheezy little tears while his aunts try to comfort him, and Nico...

Nico is gripped so tight in Percy's arms that Percy worries he might've broken something. He relaxes slow. Nico detaches. Mrs. O'Leary's hot breath huffs against the top of his head. Nico gives her a pat on the nose, not looking at Percy as he turns to Joel and checks in on him.

Percy's watching the slump of bruised campers before him. His blood feels too hot. Sweat drips down his back but his skin is too dry. He takes a step forward. A hand shoves against his chest and he gazes down at void eyes.

The world slams back into place.

He breathes.

"You are ocean water," Nico says very quietly. "Not blood and human viscera."

His mouth is dry. There's something inside him that wants. "Water is water."

"Not like that," Nico says. Percy swallows and steps back. Nico lowers his hand. Then turns to face Joel and the twins. His voice brightens up, feigned cheeriness, as he marches towards them. "Joel, do you want to go live with my brother's cult?"

Distantly Percy feels like he remembers Nico saying something about that once, but he can't remember what, so his mind draws question marks he doesn't ask as he twists on his heel. Nico crouches, speaking in a steady soft tone. The girls are holding each other's hands. They spare looks for the people who were scared of their nephew, and spare looks towards Percy. It's the same look.

They look away when Nico says something to them, vanishing hand-in-hand into shadows. Nico whistles and Mrs. O'Leary approaches with heavy steps. Joel hugs her leg. His ragged breaths are wheezed tired and weary into her fur. Nico keeps a steady hand on his back.

There is no murder-suicide this time. Instead the shadows swell and deposits the twins, with Mr. D and Chiron beside them. Nico cuts them off when Chiron tries to question him. He takes long way out with the girls on either side of him towards the Apollo cabin.

He doesn't follow the girls back into the woods with healers on their tail. Instead he opens the door to the Hades cabin and sits on a wooden chair. There's a buzz of white noise from a nearby noise machine. Otherwise everything is quiet. Nico's phone sits where it had been dropped to the ground minutes before.

His blood still feels too hot.

It feels like hours later when Nico walks in. However, the clock on the wall says it's only been twenty minutes. Joel is tucked up into his side. He goes down without a fight into Nico's bed. Lets himself be tucked in and drift off. Then Nico pulls another chair around and settles down in front of Percy, straddling the chair backwards. His arms cross over the top. His chin rests on folded wrists.

They watch each other. Then Nico moves to rest his cheek on his wrists instead. "You've been having those dreams for a while?"

Percy makes an affirmative noise.

"They haven't really been about my siblings, have they?"

He doesn't answer that. Instead, he says, "If people kept doing things like this, why didn't you guys make your own place?"

"We did," Nico says. "A few times actually. But no one liked that they didn't know what we were doing. So they made us come back to be hated and suffer." He snorts. "The old adage - keeps your friends close and enemies closer."

Percy doesn't laugh. "Why did she adopt him?"

Nico lifts his head. "Some things had happened when she found him. She took an interest and gave him her blessing."

"What things?"

Nico looks to the ceiling. "Things that help her fill her fridge with food to eat." His eyes flicker back down to Percy. "Only Chiron and Mr. D know the specifics. But Joel is fine." He glances over his shoulder. "He's a good kid. No one needs to be scared of him." He turns back to Percy. "Now answer my question."

Blood still too hot, Percy stares at a spot just above Nico's head. Then grits his teeth. "I don't like watching you die."

"I'm not scared of dying," Nico says. "None of us are. It's why it's always been so easy to take care of them. Take the dislike, take the insults, take the threats."

Percy stares at him. Then repeats, "I don't like watching you die."

Nico stares back. "You're not going to."

It's hard to believe that. So he leans forward, reaching out to grab the top of Nico's chair and pull it down until he can feel Nico's cool breath against his skin. "If I keep having those dreams, I'm gonna take a page from your dad's book and kidnap you."

Nico's lips twitch, but his voice stays even. "Then I guess you should keep in mind to make room in your dungeon because I'll be bringing a few people along." He lifts a hand and strokes a thumb down the side of Percy's face. "I heard your siblings were pretty protective too." His fingers slip away. Percy's skin yearns. "Something about how the ocean drowns what it loves and drowns what it hates."

That's not protection, Percy thinks. It's possession.

But he doesn't say that outloud.

Not yet.

He slowly lets the chair fall backwards until it lands stable on all four legs. He wants to deny Nico's statement about drowning. But he has - at least what he hates. Ahkyls, the mountain lion that tried to attack Grover, those kids. Only one success. But the want, the need...

"I should head home," he says slowly. It takes him a minute to process his words and stand up, heading for the door.

Nico makes a low noise and stands too. "Sweet dreams," he says once Percy has walked out into the night, still barefoot and shirtless.

Percy climbs onto Mrs. O'Leary's back. "I hope so."

[miercolaes]

normalize your villains. writing wise. i think everyone knows villain behavior irl would get you a ticket straight to the highest security prison out there. but this is about building a fictional world. for context, i've recently been on a rewatch for the show once upon a time and this time, i've tried to stay impartial to the characters storylines. the villains seems irredemable in the first season and frankly, i'm disappointed that this changes. hear me out !!!!!

my version of wednesday addams is for the most part chaotic neutral. wherever the current sails, she'll follow. sure, wednesday has the potential to grow and have (somewhat) healthy relationships in her life, but at the end of the day, she's not a hero. she's not even the anti-hero. sometimes it plays out like that and she might look the part, but she's not good goddammit.

for the crimes that she've committed? guilty as charged. for all the people she had hurt? guilty as charged. for all the misery she'll cause others? you guessed it, guilty as fucking charged. i'm not going to water her down.

in my mind, the addamses were always the outliers, but with the bestest of intentions. morticia and gomez welcomed vile strangers into their homes and tried their very best to make them feel comfortable in their home. they have a skewed perception for the world, something that's unusual, morbid, downright grotesque. edgar allan poe, which netflix glorified and here i am doing a shoutout to train my beloved, would tremble had he known of the addamses. morticia and gomez are kind, in their way. but you know who never really was?

their kids. in the comics (both by the og author and some others icr the author, but more closer to our time), pugsley was the devil incarnate. he showed no remorse, he was clearly thrilled by the suffering he caused others. but i suppose the directors changed the storyline and made wednesday the brand new puglsey in the 90s movies. she showed no emotion, she was a okay with murdering her own, even if she knew as luck as it, their younger brother pubert would live. this time around, wednesday was the devil incarnate.

and i agree with the canon, she can be incredibly intelligent and even more ruthless than she is intelligent. but one thing i've noticed is that, she notices her parents being taken for granted. she is aware that others will use morticia and gomez's kindness against them. sure, they can take it, that's their thing after all. but wednesday noticed everything since she was a kid and she remembers.

and guess what?

just because someone went through hell and back (even if said hell is not the worst that could happen), that doesn't mean someone will come out kind and good. wednesday will forever doubt anyone in her life and she will push them away, just as she'll try to give them the world. but no matter the good she does, at the end of the day, she is the villain. it's not the addams family, it's just the kids and i say that because pugsley and pubert have the same rights as wednesday does.

at the end of the day, being evil after witnessing evil is okay. fiction wise, i feel like reminding. some characters are irredemable. just because they do good things sometimes that doesn't make them good. just like doing bad things sometimes doesn't make them bad. but here's the catch with the addamses. they always, always own up who they are. wednesday no exception to the rule.

wednesday, the villain, can do good things. she can save your muse, she can enjoy your muse's company, she can love your muse. but all of this, all the good things do come from a villain. did she deserve the awful treatment she and her family got in canon? of course not, that we can all agree on. but it doesn't matter what happened, what matters is what choices they make afterward. wednesday will always choose herself. wednesday doesn't pick good, she willingly chooses evil.

sure, a villain is capable of love. a villain is capable of both good and bad. but look at how it always ends. wednesday is a villain and she will suffer, your muse too if you dare to come too close. it's not fair, i know. but this is just my theory, vero's theory. and, you may expect it by now,

please, normalize your villains.

[1anthophobia]

posts about edwins arrival in hell got me thinking about the sacrifice and what if.

what if Edwin was taken to hell with his body? ofc souls feel pain in hell regardless but what if he actually had his body in hell for some time? soul's torture is bad enough, but when someone has their physical, mortal body there I can't even imagine how bad it would be for him

[nights-flying-fox]

a short tidepod duo sickfic gift for @little-banjo-frog & @spacemimz :] hope you guys feel better soon!!

Word count: 1283 ☆ fandom: rottmnt ☆ ao3 link: n/a (yet)

 Leo really hated being sick. It was always boring. Especially if he was the only one who got sick. Raph would get anxious and act like a mother hen, and Donnie would never let him leave his room if it was not necessary (and mind you, it is not because Leo has to rest, it is because he’d end up spreading his sickness in the lair), and would be a snitch whenever Leo tried to sneak out. At least Splinter had the experience and always knew what Leo needed. 

 The thing was that his dad seemed to miss the fact Leo had slept the whole morning, and then the whole noon, and now he couldn’t sleep. To be honest he didn’t want to either. Being sick was bad, but staying in your room and not being able to do much was also bad. The first was okay. He read comics, scrolled on his phone and read some fanfiction, played some video games... Yeah, he had company too but... He wanted to do something other than lying down all the time! He was well enough to walk around, and he was pretty sure his sickness wasn't contagious so he should be able to leave the room, right?

 So he got up. It was slow and careful steps, mostly to not wake up others. Thank Pizza Supreme in the Sky, he didn’t cough anymore. He could just have a tour of the lair, maybe even find something interesting to do—

 “Leo?”

 He turned to see Mikey standing at the entrance of his room. He had his blanket wrapped around him, and his eyes were tired. Uh oh.

 “Don’t tell me...” Leo started.

 “It is your fault.” Mikey glared.

 “...Is this why you came here?” Leo asked. “To accuse me of spreading sickness.”

 Mikey whined, “Noooo, I can’t sleep.” 

 Leo tilted his head, “Why?”

 “Because—” He began coughing. Leo watched, feeling terrible. Maybe this was his fault, alright. After his coughing fit was over, Mikey continued. “Well, this...”

 “Eugh boi... Yeah, let’s make you some warm tea.” Leo grabbed his blanket as well. It was cold out of his bed.

 “That sounds good, but I was wondering,” Mikey was looking at him pleadingly. “Could I stay with you tonight?” 

 Leo understood his pain very well. Sickness alone was boring as heck. “Sure, but we will visit the kitchen first.” He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he pulled his blanket and walked out of the room.

 He’d consider himself fast for someone sick, considering how Mikey had yet to join him. Except he wasn’t aware that Mikey was watching him walk, pulling his plushies on the blanket at the same time. The youngest smiled to himself as he followed his brother, deciding not to say anything. 

 Eventually, the two reached to the kitchen, Leo making two mugs of linden tea. Meanwhile, Mikey leaned on the counter, watching him. As Leo poured the warm tea into the mugs, he noticed something: “Hey, isn’t that Dad’s soup?” 

 Leo looked at where Mikey pointed at. A big casserole, which Leo knew that Splinter used it for when he made one of his famous soups. “Yeah, it is...”

 “Shouldn’t he have put it into the fridge?” Mikey muttered.

 “I dunno, you are the chef here.” Leo shrugged.

 They looked at each other for a second before Mikey said “I’m reheating it.” 

 “I’m getting the bowls.”

 And so the two warmed the soup, poured it into bowls, and headed out of the kitchen with two trays of soup and tea. The slideer had yet to notice his plushies on his blanket too, so they came along with the turtles as well. 

 Leo pointed out that Mikey’s room was the closest one, so they quietly headed there. However, Leo had forgotten that Mikey lacked a bed. Good thing Mikey had unreasonably a lot of pillows. Since Mikey had even less energy and was coughing a bit more now, Leo decided to handle putting the pillows down to make a comfortable place they could sit. As he did the task, he noticed the familiar purple tablet on the ground. “Is that Donnie’s tablet?” 

 “Mmmhmm.” Mikey murmured. 

 Well, they could use this! “Wanna watch a lame movie until we fall asleep or Raph finds us?” 

 “Yeah,” Mikey replied, enthusiastic but tired. “One of the lame horror movies?”

 “No, you won’t be able to sleep.” Leo said as he placed more pillows on the ground.

 “Nuh-uh.”

 “You literally couldn’t sleep after watching those fake ghost stories youtube videos for a week.” 

 “Lies.” 

 Leo rolled his eyes. He didn’t say anything though, because he got distracted once he pulled his blanket over the pillows. “Wha- are those my plushies?” 

 “Yea, you’ve been dragging them along with your blanket the whole time.” Mikey snickered.

 Oh. Okay, Leo maybe hadn’t recovered enough, how had he not noticed that? Eh, who cared. He took them and placed them on the pillows. “Bring yours too then.” He told Mikey as he sat down and pulled the trays closer, opening space to put the tablet on. Mikey did as he was told, and then sat next to Leo. They chose a movie and drank their soup and tea as they watched it in the dimly lit comfy room. The fairy lights and the way they were lying on the many pillows sleepily really made it feel like they were in a pillow fort. It was nice. 

 Mikey eventually got into his shell, only leaving his head out to see the screen. Leo held him close, circling gently his shell whenever his brother had a coughing fit. They both weren’t feeling their very best, but it seemed that the warm stuff and the comfort helped.

 The youngest was the first to fall asleep. Leo didn’t remember when, but he fell asleep too. In the morning they found themselves in Leo’s bed, surrounded with some pillows and stuffed animals. And there was grumpy Raph watching them- no, glaring at them, sitting next to them.

 “Hey big guy,” Leo smiled. Mikey was still sleeping beside him. “For your information, Mike’s joined the sick club.” 

 “I know.” He huffed. “What were you two thinking laying on the ground the whole night?”

 “On pillows, Raph.” Leo corrected.

 Raph glared at him even more, if it was possible.

 “Relaaax, I was restless and he wanted company. I thought tea would help with his coughing, and his room is closer than mine...” Leo explained.

 Raph sighed. “What am I gonna do with you two...” 

 “Bring us a very good breakfast?” He suggested.

 “How are you feeling?” Raph asked, ignoring Leo’s suggestion. But he had smiled, so he might’ve brought them a good breakfast. Or maybe it was already on the way. 

 “Still not feeling too hot, buuut kinda better.” Leo answered. “No coughing, a bit tired tho.”

 “Yeah, good.” Raph smiled, then put his hand on his forehead. “Your fever seems to be better. But don’t you dare to leave the bed yet. Not alone.”

 “Why, where are you going?” Leo asked.

 “Didn’t you ask for breakfast?” Raph smiled as he walked towards the door.

 “You’re the best Raph.” 

 “Yeah, yeah.” Raph waved his hand. As he left, he added, “Get prepared against Donnie’s rant of careful usage of his stuff and whatever Pops has to say about soup.” 

 When Leo groaned, Raph had already left. 

 But now Leo wasn’t sick and alone. Yeah, maybe being sick was boring, and so was being stuck in your room, but hey, at least he had his family that made his days better. He smiled to himself, closing his eyes to fall asleep before his twin or Splinter paid a visit.

[theangrypomeranian]

current word count on new WIP:

14886

[helenofblackthorns]

the fact I've seen a couple people say the reason for the lack of mourning for Kit in ChoT was because cc "didn't want to write sad scenes"... if she didn't want to write sad scenes she shouldn't have killed off a main character????? like why kill off someone and then not follow through with some sort of narrative weight (which is probably going to be sad. because someone died.)

like writing 101 is to not kill off characters unless it serves some sort of purpose, whether plot wise or character wise. even if that purpose is to show how dangerous the situation is for everyone else. but for that to be effective it can't just... exist in a vacuum. there should be notable changes in other characters behaviour bc of the loss, or how the plot unfolds afterwards. death is kinda a big deal & the writing should reflect that! there should be a gaping hole in the group you can feel, a definitive change story that wouldn't exist if the death hadn't happened, especially for a main character.

and the way Kit's death is written... doesn't reflect any of this. like he hadn't died the book would have ended exactly the same. and honestly the whole thing is kinda a slap in the face for readers just because we have read three books with Kit & fallen in love with him as a character. we deserve mourn him! we deserve to have moment where we get to cry alongside the characters for more than a couple sentences! and the fact we don't makes the whole thing feel unfinished & that the ending is undeserved. like for me at least, reading the epilogue was a "that's it?" moment, it all felt too good to be true (and a bit fan-servicey). like I was just expecting this moment that never came & it left me feel unbalanced. at the very least someone could have spared an "ave atque vale" like come on now.

[dagaan]

It’s Day 6, time for some completely normal comfort! A bit of a crossover with two of my AUs, SkullHacker and The Eel; now up for reading here!

[tinypinkmouse]

I finished writing a tiny fill for the last Guardian bonus bingo prompt today. (I'll get around to editing it at some point too.) I've been trying to write something closer to canon with all the prompts, and it's really highlighted how few ideas I have for fic that are set at least close to canon (or post-canon everyone lives). I can manage something small to fill the prompts, but beyond that it just isn't happening.

This upsets me. I want to write things more close to canon. Something with substance. I've always wanted to wrote something plotty post-canon, but it just doesn't happen. Instead it's all just another AU repeating the exact same plot, and straying further and further from anything even remotely canon.

[allthecastlesonclouds]

not to go crazy about these tags but you just simply must say more on the thistlesprings as italian i’m obsessed with that

I OF COURSE WILL I WILL PUT IT UNDER A CUT THO BC IT GOT LONG

i do mean italian american because that is what i know. and also slightly catholic italian american but. yeah.

alright so it did first strike me with the extended family. i do believe that the vision that the sphinx showed gorgug in the forest had some amount of truth to it– everyone else's did, and wilma and digby are very much the idea of "we don't need anybody but each other! :D"– and so, therefore, what's the reason the extended family isn't in wilma's and digby's lives? misguided kindness on both ends.

the thistlesprings (extended) have prejudice and boy howdy the italian grandparents i know. they try and they cook and they have their laws but also they have their beliefs. my (italian, catholic) grandmother called unitarian christianity a cult and tried to stop my (jewish) aunt from marrying my (catholic) uncle in front of a rabbi (that meme of "i consent" "i consent" "i don't!"). it's giving "all they know is wrong and they must change but you cannot change them without being hurt." We cannot accept people of other beliefs so you cannot let anything else in to prove us wrong, all under the paper-thin veil of wanting to protect.

and wilma and digby are such contradictions. they're so, so self-sacrificing, and yet they'll fight the whole world. they have a tank (wonder what happened to that lawn mower, actually...), for gods sake. they care so much about their boy but they also left their families at the drop of a hat? there simply must be more but also the self-sacrificing and yet horribly defensive... they are trying so hard because they know what they want and they are willing to do anything to get it but they would prefer to not fight extensively. but they do, because they over-corrected from their upbringing, and gorgug doesn't have the solidest of ground at home to rely on.

there's also just the gnomish/orcish culture mashup of focusing so much on food. i love food so much guys. you reach out and share those dishes with others– if you're having an event, you best bet you're getting up crack of dawn and making a multi-course meal that anyone and everyone can enjoy. the frosty fair folk festival being right up w+d's alley– of course it was, it was bonding. especially the as-homemade-as-we-can-get-it. never met an italian american who prefered canned sauce or preshredded cheese over homemade. that shit is as fresh as it gets.

there's also the dramatic family gatherings where everything goes wrong. why did gorgug see basically his entire extended family. i know that. the grandchildren are in the basement playing twister or some shit and the parents/grandparents/in-laws are Hashing Shit Out. there is a veil of politeness until 5 year old is gone and then it's a Shouting Match. gorgug saw "Digby and Wilma [are] having a fight with a lot of other gnomes. [He knows] that [he has] aunts and uncles and grandparents and stuff like that." that was Moonar Yulnear or some shit and stuff Went Down. Everyone was there. the cousins were in a tire swing or something but the extended family was there.

point 5b actually both sides of the family know each other. why do italian americans know either nobody or Everybody In Your Life and Their Life and The World Actually.

they just. they have so much (misguided) care and they mean so much to me. and do you think that any side has tried to reach out or has it just been years and years of blame game, of they'll never accept him and this is just how it is and how could they destroy themselves and how could they destroy something good. it all feels very italian american to me. homegrown experience gone sour because you want to thrive.

[millipede-menace]

Chapter 7: Seashells

What did I tell you? See, it was good that I died for a little bit B)

Anyways, Usagi pov! \o/

[raytm]

between kafka with blade and sampo with gepard this is me rn :

[memento-morri-writes]

"Out of one box, into another."

I- uh... I wrote more about my DnD character. Sorry it's not WIP content, but poor Rook had the worst session ever tonight (technically yesterday, since it's almost 1 am), and I was Very Inspired.

TW for violence, abuse, vomit, panic attacks, drinking, and death (in a dream).

transcript under the cut.

Strong arms grabbed Rook and pulled him away from the wall where he was sandwiched. Rook whipped around, heart pounding, expecting to see a familiar hulking goliath man. He breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing that it was Warren who had pulled him free, not Olvar. Shaking, Rook backed away from Bullosa, Aki, and Maka, pressing himself deep into a corner. His breath came in shallow pants, and his heart was racing

***

Rook had never heard her voice sound so warm, so loving. In fact, the only time he had ever heard happiness in her voice had been a kind of sadistic joy when she toyed with him.

***

Suddenly the neat, simple house felt too small. The walls felt crowded, like they were pushing in on him. His lungs and limbs were screaming, and his heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.  Taking the bottle in one hand, he pushed out of the house, letting the door swing closed on its own behind him.

***

Warren was silent for a long moment, but eventually he spoke again. “Those scars, did she give those to you?” Rook nodded. “Sometimes it was her personally, sometimes she was content to just watch.” His stomach twisted as he remembered those sessions. Wolf lounging in a chair while Olvar beat or whipped Rook bloody.

***

He looked around at the three people surrounding him. He had never once in his life imagined having three people who cared about him so much. Who cared enough to follow him when he vanished, and check up on him. He felt comfortable, sitting here on the roof with them.

***

Rook was only semi-aware of what was happening as Canan and Warren hauled him down from the roof. He only became more aware when they got inside and Warren pushed him towards the door that had been closed ever since Rook had arrived.  “Nnnn-no,” Rook stuttered. “I d-don’t need to sleep in there. The couch is fine.” He tried to push himself away from Warren, but stumbled.  Warren grabbed him again, and propelled him towards the door. “You’re sleeping in a bed. At least for one night.” Sensing the hopelessness of his situation, Rook gave in and allowed himself to be led into Rowan’s room. He was vaguely aware of pink walls and numerous vibrant decorations scattered around the room. Warren led him to the bed, and Rook collapsed onto it, still mostly dressed.

***

Beyond the door, he could see CaptainWolf’s crew all gathered around the door, laughing. Aki and Maka stood at the front, one on either side of the captain. Their laughter was the loudest, and even above the din of the crew, and his own rising panic, he could hear them. “You were a fool. You should never have trusted us. Maybe if you hadn’t, you would be free.” But as the walls of the room crept in, Rook knew that wasn’t true.His last thought as the walls began to crush him, and as Olvar’s fingers squeezed the life from his body, was simple. It was always going to end like this.  Rook bolted awake, heart racing. A scream was building in his throat, but he quickly clamped his mouth closed, biting his tongue in the process. His stomach heaved and he leaned over, vomiting bile into the bucket beside the bed. As he lay back, panting, Rook heard Captain Wolf’s voice in his head. “Out of one box, into another.”

[puppianqueen]

despite everything, i guess i made it

[larperwithastaff]

"i could write a fix-it fic!" "i could write angst with a happy ending!" i could make it worse. i could make their stories even more traumatising. dont tell me no. that makes me want to make them Sadder.

[modifiedyincision]

Hi I am going around to everyone who reblogged that post with tags: please use this ask as an excuse to ramble about your ocs I want to hear about them

I had to sit on this one for a while because I just have so. Many. OCs. So I had to think about it! I'm settling on Skylar (and his friends I suppose, but mostly him), even though his story is still a bit nebulous, because I love him. Everything is below the cut to avoid me flooding dashes! It also gets ramble-y. You have been warned.

So Skylar (and his story/world) comes directly from a dream I had three years ago, in which I was Skylar. I really liked the main chunk of it, but as it is a dream, connecting everything coherently has been a hassle. If something sounds a bit off, that's... likely why. Anyway!

Skylar, unhappy with his old life, decides to completely ditch it. He stops by a small town and, desperate for friends, is willing to hang out with pretty much anyone that will give him the time of day.

Three people, a preexisting friend group, start talking to him. There are three others -- Andrew (name change possibly pending. Not sure that I vibe with it), Garrett, and Lillian. It isn't long before he finds himself getting swept up in their demon-cult-rumors, because this group recently found a half-ruined journal detailing a lot of weird ass shit. And, also, there's some unexplainable shit going on down in the hills.

They suggest checking it out.

Skylar buys exactly none of it, but he goes along with it anyway for that sweet, sweet human connection.

Now, the group decides to visit a 'ritual site.' A large, 5'x5' square of flat rock pressed a bit into the earth, with a red rune carved into it, slapped into the center of wild hills and forest.

They do the stupid young adult thing, which is to consult the journal for the ritual, which they then do.

Now, listen, the way the demons and rituals work is a bit convoluted because I'm trying to translate it from nonsense dream systems, and I don't really think this is something that can be skipped over or it all ceases to make any sense.

To make it simple: demons need to be summoned into a 'vessel' (a human) to get to Earth. But one ritual isn't enough, and it only partially binds a demon to the vessel and Earth. Five total rituals need to be completed for the demon to be fully tied to Earth and the vessel. These rituals increase in severity with each one, and each ritual requires a specific site to work. But, even with all rituals finished, the demon still relies heavily on the vessel to keep it in line. And not, like, killing everything.

If a vessel dies with a demon attached, the demon is released into the world. A few things can happen:

If it was the first ritual, little occurs. The demon is intangible and unable to interact meaningfully with the world. It can barely move at all, in fact. Imagine if your arm, just your arm, got teleported into another world. You can't do anything with just an arm out there! And it inconveniences you back home!

If it was the third ritual, this is the point at which the demon can cause real harm, as most of it is on Earth- it can influence creatures (aka possession a little to the left), move objects with some effort, and generally cause chaos. Still cannot be seen, except under extreme circumstances. However, it cannot move far from the general area the vessel died -- maybe a few miles.

And if the vessel died after the fifth ritual has been completed, it would be... very bad. The demon would have no human attachment able to hold it back, and it would just be out there in the world, a physical thing with full capabilities. It would be 100% on Earth. Nightmare scenario.

Never fear, though! It is possible to banish a demon at any time. Just stick it in a body and send it back with DIFFERENT rituals! The vessel will lose demonic influence and will be fine, as will the demon, but both will again be separate.

You can tie a demon partially stuck on earth to a new vessel with the rituals, then do the banishment when you're far enough along and have all its rogue parts in a vessel again.

Okay, that's all. Now. Moving on!

Skylar (this used to be about him...) and the gang do the ritual. Nobody expects much of anything. Problem: Skylar's arm starts burning and shifts into something pitch black and iridescent, not unlike oil.

Everyone is very suddenly aware of Oh Shit, This Is Real.

They all hurry up to get the rest of the rituals done so they can banish the demon (if they can. Honestly, half the journal is fucking ruined, they're winging it, this is not going as planned). They decide to try banishing after the third ritual.

Skylar's mental health deteriorates, because he's experiencing unfamiliar thoughts and emotions (thanks, demon!). Plus the rapid-fire rituals are just taking their toll on him, physically - he's tired, and sore, and cranky, and not at all used to having a demon slowly infesting him. It makes all of the demonic stuff worse, harder to control. He both loves and hates that.

The demon very very badly wants Skylar to go on a deadly revenge tour. Be powerful, it says, be unstoppable, don't you want to make everyone look at you with fear and awe? And Skylar...

He starts to buy into it. Yeah, he SHOULD be powerful and unstoppable and scary. He SHOULD fuck shit up! But also he doesn't want to, that would be bad, he likes it here, he likes his friends. But it would be nice to go after that guy that was mean to him on his first day here, wouldn't it... no, he can't do that!

One day he does the fourth ritual by himself, making the demon stronger and the whole situation worse. They double down on trying to banish the demon, less concerned with the town's wellbeing now than their friend's.

I have a handful of endings for this part of his life in mind, but I haven't settled on any as the 'canon.' It depends on how bitter I feel that day, really.

In the best ending, it follows my original dream.

You see, throughout my dream, I would flash into the present, older, curled up in one big bed with my friends (the ones with me back then!) reminiscing on this like I'm telling a story. They are apologetic, because this experience has left me scarred mentally and physically. But I'm better, happier. The demon is gone, banished. My body hurts sometimes, still, but I met lifelong friends. Skylar's story would follow mine -- the demon is banished before the final ritual, not without consequence, but it gets better. He heals, is content.

The worst ending: Skylar succeeds in the final ritual and can't handle it. The demon has near total control of his body, Skylar's mind too addled and worn down to fight or disagree. His friends don't manage to banish it (in some versions, Skylar kills them outright). Skylar never recovers, in this one.

In the ????? ending, Skylar completes the fifth and final ritual, but his friends manage to banish the demon. There are so many versions of this one in my head, frankly. Ones where Skylar never forgives them, ones where Skylar gets better, ones where he tries to do the rituals again in desperation.

A lot of Skylar info right now, unfortunately, is based around this one story, because that was what I had in the dream as Skylar. The others have more concrete personalities, I feel, simply because I could observe them and wasn't actually them. But they aren't as interesting to talk about, because Skylar is essentially the protag, and has the most information and backstory. Listen, I just don't want to make him a copy-paste version of me :(