#[ I plan to add this link to my abouts at some point soon >.>

[auraguardians]

; [ I’ve actually been meaning to drop my about the mun page for a while --- I tend to be a little private about personal stuff, but... there’s details I don’t mind sharing on that page and links to some of my other art-related socials! ]

#✧ [ knight reflects ] ooc #[ ...I like to know a little bit about my RP partners too ] #[ so I wanted to offer the same level of info about me in return! ] #;tbd #[ I plan to add this link to my abouts at some point soon >.>

[cranberryjuice-posts]

I loved your stories with Clarisse. I wanted to know if I could do one where Reader is a daughter of Nemesis. Normally very quiet and "calm", to the point that many don't understand how she and Clarisse work out. But one day, some campers set up an ambush for Clarisse in the capture the flag and she ends up getting hurt. Even though Clarisse doesn't care much, Reader comes up with a plan worthy of Annabeth's surprise, and takes revenge on the campers who hurt her girlfriend. Everyone knew it was her, but there was no concrete proof so she gets away with it.

RAHH‼️‼️

I’m not your friend

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Daughter of nemesis! Reader

An - im Actually loving all these request also i didnt add much of the song to the fic bc low-key i forgot that was the song I choose but it’s ok I’m just a girl

Palestine help links

The conch shell rang loudly. You looked up and sighed, finishing tying your shoes you grabbed your weapon of choice before heading towards your spot at flag patrol.

Clarisse ran past you but stopped. She gently grabbed your waist, kissing you she grinned. “Feel like a winning day?”

“Maybe” You mumbled with a smile. Clarisse kissed you one last time for ‘good luck’ before she ran off to do some hunting.

Many campers were confused about your relationshp. Clarisse who was an arrogant and abrasive girl who had to much pride for her own good, managed to end up dating you a calm collected and quiet daughter of nemesis. Some figured your gentle nature just happened to balance out clarisse chaotic one.

——

You aimlessly walked in circles around the flag with the other kid who was patrolling with you doing the same. You stepped on a twig which made a loud snap, you felt an over whelming sense of anxiety. Your kiss earlier for good luck had also connected you and clarisse both in battle a gift you had inherited from your mother.

You grabbed your weapon that was sitting on a near by rock quickly. “Where are you going!” The kid who was patrolling with you yelled as you ran off.

Soon you found clarisse sitting against a tree wincing in pain as her sibling was adjusting her arm into a sling.

“What happened” You anxiously dropped by clarisse moving some curls out of her face. “Fucking Athena kid made some dumbass trap” clarisse nodded her head as a signal for her siblings, they moved her arm fast making her yell a string of insults in Greek. After a few minutes she panted as the pain subsided “Sprained my arm but it’s fine, i can still fight”

“No Your not” You sternly spoke.

“It’s whatever just a sprained arm I’ll live, can’t say the same for that Athena bitch though” clarisse muttered under her breath.

You looked up at her siblings and gave them a look which they understood was ‘don’t let her leave from here’. The kids looked at eachother but kept quiet, you leaned over and kissed clarisse. “Stay here ok.. 20 minutes and if I win the game you will take a break for a few days ok”

Clarisse grinned at the bet “and if you don’t?”

“You’ll get my meats for the next month”

“Fine”

——

You spent the next ten minutes getting caught. You get caught then you had the advantage in setting your trap.

Luke tossed you down with a small pile of kids one of which was your brother Ethan. You pretended to be sad and dissaptioned using your clean record charm to your advantage.

“Sorry y/n It’s Nothing Personal Just fun and games” Luke gave you his same old sarcastic smile.

“No it’s ok I get it” you shrugged your shoulders. Waiting for him to walk away you turned to Ethan. “You set the ropes right?” You leaned over and whispered

“Yeah did everything like you asked” he muttered while glaring up at the blue team kid who’s as standing guard over the captured kids.

It took about 10 minutes until you heard a loud commotion, with that you had knocked out the solider standing guard stole the flag and ran off to the lakes shore.

——

The final conch rang signaling your teams victory. Clarisse rolled her eyes as she walked over towards you shaking her head at your dumb sarcastic grin. As your group celebrated, the blue team walked over with Chiron in tow.

“Her fucking y/n she’s the one who set up that damn trap” Liam a Hermes kid pointed at you accusingly you however remained innioncent.

“What trap?” You played it off.

“Oh you little—“ liam started to get into your face but clarisse immeaditly stepped in. Chiron however put his arm inbetween the two to keep things cordial.

“How about you tell me what the trap was” the centaur looked down at the angry kid. He had been scuffed up pretty bad with a few bleeding cuts of his own.

“It was a Large rope scheme, we stepped into our safe zone and boom a loud explosion of green fire went off before we could leave more went off getting practically all of our team surrounded in Greek fire, then once we got free half of us were swept up into the tree upside down by that point the flag had been taken and now we’re here and I know it was y/n because… well I can’t actually prove it but I know it was her!” 

You kept your innocent appearance with a small smile still denying the accusations.

“I’m sorry Liam but if there’s no solid proof I can’t do anything, as far as I see y/n is innocent” Chiron sighed while setting a comforting arm on his shoulder. The kid scoffed and stormed away, as everybody cleared off you smiled at clarisse giving her a kiss. “So about the bet” you grinned.

“Shut up” she laughed but kissed you back. In the corner of your eye you saw annabeth chase of all people walking over to you.

She stopped infront of you with a serious expression. You raised an eyebrow confused but waited for her to speak. “I know you set that trap, and I know you made sure not to leave an evidence you did it. Next time you wont be so lucky” she crossed her arms, you knew annabeth was a force to be reckoned with and crossing her was a bad idea. “But you have my respect that was a good trick you pulled today. Enjoy your celebratory dinner” she sighed before walking away.

You looked back at clarisse for a moment. You smiled wide at her laughing at her pretend agitated face at the fact you had won and clarisse ultimate lost.

“You know” clarisse started while walking back to the dining hall with you. “It’s kinda hot how you managed to fuck up a bunch of kids just because I got hurt, don’t tell me your over protective”

“Shut up clarisse”

Clarisse - this is bullshit

Y/n - you lost now you have to rest for a week

Clarisse - again this is bull shit

———

#lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse my beloved #clarisse x female reader #butch clarisse #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse larue #clarisse x reader #percy jackson show #pjo show #pjo fandom #percy jackson fanfiction

[notjustjavierpena]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT Husband Javier and the reader are fighting the whole day but trying to repress it because of their kids- After they're asleep the two are arguing again and then boom makeup sex 😋 thank you angel !!!!

Fight

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: This request literally had me up all night, and now it has come to life and possibly turned into one of the most sensual pieces I’ve ever written. I’m obsessed with them. 

Summary: You feel overlooked and unappreciated. Javier says the wrong thing and hell breaks loose, but he also knows how to say sorry. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (mdni!), domestic life and dynamic, grownups being assholes to each other, hurt/comfort, saying sorry to each other and to your kids because I’m healing my inner child, crying, pregnancy, pregnancy sex, passionate and rough sex, MAKEUP SEX!!!, clit stim, creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, love love love, they are just crazy about each other 

Word count: 4.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49596877

Fight

Chucho Peña is coming over tomorrow and that’s fine. 

You’ve made plans to make plans at this point though. The list of things you need to do before he arrives still gets longer every time you have a moment to think about it to yourself, teeny tiny details adding up to a day that’ll keep you busy from the moment you wake up. It would have been fine if you didn’t have to get the kids out of bed and prepared for school, and then go to work too, right on top of cleaning, shopping, cooking, and hosting — at 34 weeks pregnant.

Javier is Javier about it, reassuring you that it will be fine and that you just need to take a breath whilst he stands in the door to the garden, back towards you and smoking his morning cigarette whilst you try to tell Inés that she should have cornflakes instead of lucky charms for breakfast. 

“Oh,” Javier says after stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray that Lucas has made for him in arts and crafts class. He turns around and rests against the doorframe, “Can we have that chocolate cake you made last time? The one with the white chocolate frosting?”

You never personally thought that you’d ever get into an argument about chocolate cake. If you’d said this to the child version of yourself, she would have laughed out loud and told you that nobody could ever be angry about anything to do with dessert. Especially not chocolate desserts. Yet here you are, letting your fatigue get the better of you.

“Sure,” you let out a loud sigh, dragging it out to really let your husband know that you are not happy about his input, “Sure, Javi, I’ll just add it to my ever-growing list of things I need to do for your father.”

You hear it as soon as it leaves your mouth but you’re too stubborn to backtrack, watching Javier go rigid in the door. He furrows his brow in confusion, and then his expression turns into a frown and eventually a scowl. He doesn’t look downright angry but not happy either. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks defensively, body language telling you that he is getting ready for another attack. He enters the kitchen like he is walking on eggshells, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I only asked you if we could. You have every right to say no, and not be pi—“

Inés looks up at him with big brown eyes that are similar to his own. He swallows down the word, replaces it with something more child-friendly, “And not be rude about it.”

“Say no and watch you be a giant toddler about it? Great, I’ll definitely choose that,” you scoff, running on autopilot and clearing the kitchen counter whilst you argue. Out of the corner, you see Inés starting to squirm in her seat but you’re too far gone by now, “It’s not even my father, and I have to do everything for the preparation because you’re oh-so-important.”

“So we’re just never having my dad over ever again?” Javier seethes, mouth twitching in anger and threatening to put on a violent smile. He has some kind of ability to piss you even more off when he is just about to smile during arguments. 

“That’s not what I said, and that’s not the point,” you stubbornly bend down, hand on your round belly, to put your own plate into the dishwasher. Sebastian is due soon, kicking you as your pulse rises due to anger. Javier looks like he is contemplating whether to help you straighten again or not. 

“Then what is the point?”

With a hand on the edge of the kitchen counter, you manage to stand upright once more. You face Javier, finally scowling right back at him and he seems to shrink a little underneath your fury, “I’m exhausted, Javier. When do you think I have had a night to myself? I know you have a busy schedule, I do, but God—“

You drag the last word out, running a hand through your hair in frustration, “But you went out with Steve just days ago. I need to cook, clean, do the grocery shopping, take care of two kids, and - by the way - do it all with someone kicking my bladder every goddamn minute of the day. Which - by the way - is your doing.”

There is no reason to sound as venomous as you do, but you suspect that half of it is exhaustion and the other half is hormones getting the better of you and ridding you of better judgment. 

“Fine, you win,” Javier makes a display of holding his hands up in surrender but he mixes it with a roll of his eyes, and you almost go for his throat, “I’m a terrible husband.”

“Oh, you did not ju—“ You raise your voice.

Suddenly, you hear sniffling beside you. It pulls you right out of your head and makes you observe your surroundings, and with the way that Javier flinches, it seems to be doing the same to him. 

Inés' little voice breaks your heart, the sight of her even more so when you see she has covered her ears with her hands, “Mamá. Why are you yelling at Papá? Don’t you like each other anymore?”

Javier sends you a look that makes your stomach drop, something that tells you that you are not done here. He looks absolutely furious with you, especially after seeing his daughter cry.

But then he sucks in a deep breath and crosses the room to crouch down beside Inés. He rubs her back soothingly, “Nos gustamos mucho, mija.”

Your legs have made you join them before your brain can even get the idea. Ever so gently, you run your hand over Inés' hair, “I’m so sorry, baby. We won’t shout anymore. Sometimes we get bad feelings. Remember when we talked about those?”

Javier looks at you with his mouth still a thin line and you glare back at him without Inés seeing. He straightens to get a piece of paper towel, first dabbing his daughter’s eyes and then blowing her nose afterward. 

Lucas Peña peeks into the kitchen from the hallway. He looks like someone who has just woken up, hair sticking out in the same way that his father’s sometimes does, but it’s accompanied by a concerned expression on his face as he watches the scene in the kitchen, “Why were you fighting?”

“We weren’t fighting,” you reassure and hold out your arm. Lucas goes to press into your side, and you respond to his affection by resting a hand on his head, “Okay?”

“Okay,” Lucas replies but he doesn’t sound convinced. 

From the outside, it probably looks like the perfect family portrait but you can feel Javier is fuming underneath the surface. He leaves Inés’ side to throw the snotty paper towel out, his shoulders still tense.

“Lucas, can you take your sister into the bathroom and brush your teeth?” You say as neutrally as you can muster, faking a smile down at him as he looks up at you, “I’ll be right there.”

“What about breakfast?” He asks.

“I’ll make you a sandwich for the bus ride. Whatever you want, but we’re already late,” you tell him, and it seems to work as he takes Inés’ hand in his own and leads her out of the room.

When Javier and you are alone again, an uncomfortable silence settles between the two of you. Javier stands against the counter, palms flat on its surface and you can hear the sound of the clock in the background, ticking by as the silence stretches. 

You are just about to apologize when Javier turns around. His eyes are wild with fury, not at all as submissive as just moments earlier when you had been the angry one. He points at you, mustache twitching with disgust that you are sure must be directed at himself too, because he says, “Never in front of the kids. I don’t care how angry you are. We don’t do that.”

You can feel your bottom lip tremble. 

Javier leaves the kitchen instead of comforting you. 

You force a smile, trying your hardest to sound cheerful while tears spill down your cheeks, “Lucas, what do you want on your sandwich?” 

*

The rest of the day goes by without any resolve, and it feels like there’s a brick lying heavy on your chest and making you on the verge of tears all day. Despite this, you manage to get everything on today’s list done before dinner and yes, you buy the ingredients for the stupid chocolate cake, making an effort to ‘casually’ leave the recipe on the counter for Javier to see. It results in him emptying and refilling the dishwasher without a word. 

During your bedtime routine, Lucas looks worried. He tugs at your hand when you are just about to leave and you can see the cogs turn in his head as he strings together a sentence, “Mom… It’s okay if you and Dad were angry at each other. I just don’t like it when you cry and… and I want you to say sorry. That’s what you make me do when I get angry at you or Dad. Or Inés.”

Your heart hurts from the love that’s barely able to be contained inside of it. With every single muscle in your body being strained, you manage to bend down to hug his head close to your chest, “Mijo.”

“No, don’t be sad,” he says quickly, hugging you back. 

“I’m not, baby. These are good tears because I love you so much,” you kiss his head, “I’m so proud of being your mom, baby. You know this, right?”

Lucas pulls back and you quickly wipe your tears away. He studies your face for a second, “Y-yes, I love you too, Mom, but you need to say sorry to Dad.”

You nod, struggle a little as you try to get up and say your final goodnight. On the way out, you desperately brush more tears out of your face because looking at the photos in the hallway makes them well up in your eyes once more. 

Javier is tying the strings of his pajama pants as you enter your shared bedroom. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you strip yourself naked except for your underwear, and not even when you pull a tank top over your head that’s barely covering your pregnant belly anymore. You’re unsure of what to say to get a reaction from him. The silence screams. 

“I’m sorry,” you eventually settle for. 

Javier turns to you then. His eyes rest on you for a moment before he speaks, “I’m sorry too. I get it… wanting time to yourself. I just didn’t know that was what you needed.”

He is hugging you soon after, strong arms around your exhausted frame. Your round stomach bumps against his flat one, and he lets go with one arm in favor of resting a hand where Sebastian usually kicks during the evening hours. It’s thankfully quiet right now, as if he senses that you need it.

“I wish you could just see how much invisible work I put into this house,” you say softly into his shoulder, “I feel so underappreciated and overwhelmed sometimes.”

“And I wish you would tell me how you’re feeling instead of treating me like a damn mind reader,” he sighs deeply, and you respond by getting defensive again. You’re just about to pull away with an annoyed groan. 

“No, no, c’mere,” he tugs you back into his arms and you let him because you’re feeling generous. His hands cradle your face, “I don’t wanna fight. Please. I hate fighting with you. I’m sorry.” 

“You make me so furious,” you whine as he bumps your nose with his own, feeling tears prickle at the corner of your eyes and one sliding down to drip from your chin. Javier tuts, catches it with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, baby,” his mouth curls downward as he says it, puppy dog eyes on their highest setting, “I know how much you do. I do. I’m just— you know how I am. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Javier embraces you once more as you blink tears away, dragging in a deep breath. The air in the bedroom smells like him, comforting and safe, and it makes it hard to keep concentrating on your fight and easier to fall into him. 

“I love you,” you mumble into his shoulder, and holy fuck, you do - every single day, hour, minute and second. He is your best friend, your husband, the face of your children, and most importantly, you know that he does his best for you.

It seems that those three words are exactly what he wants to hear because you feel his hands curl around the hem of your tank top. You don’t protest, relishing in the gentle touch of his fingertips against your back as he pulls the piece of clothing up and over your head. 

Your shoulders come down to relax from having been tensed up. You haven’t even noticed how much energy you have been using on straining your muscles, but now that you are calming again, you can feel how upset you’ve actually been throughout the day. 

“I love you too,” he promises. Your heart drums in your chest. The way he says it makes arousal burn below your belly button, a gentle tingling, and swirling sensation pleasantly taking over your whole pelvic floor. 

You look down between the two of you to see that Javier is already half-hard in his pajama pants, words seemingly having had the very same effect on him too. You start untying the strings of his pants slowly until you can tug them down over his hips, and he mirrors you to remove your underwear. 

Both of your bottoms pool around your feet, and when you have both stepped out of them, Javier pulls you close by your elbows. He catches your mouth in a desperate kiss, and you melt into him in a way that an apology could never make him feel. 

He pushes you back towards the bed whilst never breaking the searing kiss. Your hair is a mess in his hands, heartbeat speeding up as everything moves so fast from then on out; he helps you down onto the bed like the gentleman he is, manhandles you onto your side like the man you were swept off your feet by years ago and finally presses his front up against your back.  

“I want you,” you say in unison, and it makes you giggle at how in sync you are with each other despite having spent the day fighting over something already long forgotten. Especially when his arm scoops underneath you to cage you against his chest, hand tightening around your shoulder to hold you in place. 

Javier leans over you slightly to kiss the giggles away, bends your knees a little with his free hand so he can let it wander over you. He touches you up along your thigh as you place a pillow under your pregnant belly, takes his time holding you tightly, “Get hotter and hotter every day, mi amor.”

You press your ass back into his crotch, cunt throbbing with impatience as you hear the tiny groan that he lets out. He is so hard against the roundness of your behind, cocktip leaking steadily against your warm skin when he grinds right back into you. 

“Put it in,” you plead softly. Your hands come up to grip his forearm that is secured just above your tits, “Javi, please. I need it so bad.”

He is silent behind you as he works. The anticipation is unbearable when it is mixed with the unnerving need to have an outlet for all the intense emotions that you have just been through, your pussy quivering in desperation to be deliciously stretched out to transform your feelings into something physical. 

Suddenly, you feel the thick head of his cock between your thighs and you ready yourself for intrusion. Luckily, he doesn’t make you wait, guides himself into you in a slow motion until he is fully sheathed inside you. 

“Fuck,” you whine as quietly as you can, nails digging his arm from how hard you are gripping it.

“I know, ahh fuck, shhh,” he soothes but the way his voice sounds makes you believe that he is just as close to losing his mind, “Be quiet, baby. Just let me make you feel fucking amazing. Need a pillow between your knees too?”

You nod, and he is right there with his own pillow to help you get even more comfortable in bed with him. God, why were you even fighting? Something about cake? Either way, it seems beyond ridiculous. 

His nose is in your neck, his hand travels up to cup your breast and then he moves his body for a very first thrust inside of you. It makes your eyes nearly roll back into your skull when he keeps the pace lazy and deep, barely pulling out with each roll of his hips. 

“You feel so good,” he praises whilst mouthing along the most sensitive spot on your neck, “Makes me never wanna leave. Wanna live here.”

“Inside me?” You chuckle breathlessly. 

“Forever,” he gives you a slightly harder thrust, the first where the noise of his skin slapping against yours resonates through the bedroom. You moan in surprise, and he hushes you once more, “Don’t let them wake up and think momma is in pain.”

“Definitely not in pain.”

Javier lets out the quietest laugh. It’s almost unfair how good he is at keeping it down compared to you, but you don’t think you’ll mind having his big palm cover your mouth if you end up causing trouble. It almost happens when he pinches an overly sensitive nipple, making it harden immediately under his touch. 

“Help me spread my legs a little more,” you beg at a low decibel. 

The hand on your tit gropes obscenely and shakes for a moment before it slips down and caresses your belly on the way. Still lying on your side, he smacks the fleshiest part of where your ass and thigh meet before he cups the back of your knee so he can lift.

The move gives you the access you need to rub your cunt, two fingers going in taut little circles around the swollen nub. You rock with him too, and it goes on until you come with your back arched, releasing a short and hot breath that you didn’t notice you had been holding until it turns into a loud and accidental moan. 

“That’s my girl,” he moans too as you clench rhythmically and choke his dick when you release the built-up tension. When your orgasm reaches its peak, Javier’s hand on your shoulder moves to cover your mouth at the fear of you making enough noise to have the door burst open with unwelcome visitors, “I know it’s hard, mi vida, but - shit - but be quiet.”

You take the opportunity to let out a drawn-out and helpless cry into his hand as the sweet pleasure goes on for a few moments more. Then you slump, and he gently moves your leg down again to put less strain on your body. 

“My God,” he talks into your ear, thrusts never slowing down and you swear that you can feel his cock jump with every weak noise you make, “I love you so much. Love your little cunt too, she takes me so well.”

Javier’s hand comes down to grip the extra pounds on your hips. He tugs at the flesh almost painfully, but your exhaustion and dopamine overload are making you too delirious to notice that it’s to the point of bruising. He holds tight and uses the grasp that he has on you to pull you down onto his cock over and over. 

It takes no time to make a second orgasm stir in the pits of your stomach. Your moans change once more as your body starts responding to him fucking you so hard. 

“You think you can come again?” He rasps into your ear, and when the head of his cock slides teasingly over your favorite little spot inside of yourself, you nod frantically and it feels like you are about to cry actual tears. Fuck yes, you can come as many times as he wants. 

“Mhm, won’t take long,” you whimper and use all your willpower to lift your leg over your husband’s thigh until you are spread widely. Your belly is still comfortably supported in the new position, but now that your front is stretched taut and fully exposed like a well-trained and submissive animal, it enhances the feeling of Javier gliding over your g-spot repeatedly.

Javier removes the arm that he has caged you in with, but whereas it gives you a moment to heave a breath of air into the very bottom of your lungs, he quickly takes it away from you as he reaches up with his other hand to grab your throat. He doesn’t squeeze like he normally would when you are not pregnant, but the anticipation of him doing it makes your head swim. 

And then he is absolutely brutal in his thrusts, and before you know it, you are coming with your clit untouched and a strangled sob. The convulsions are so intense that your thighs shake, your toes curl and your eyes screw shut. 

You reach up to put your hand on the back of Javier’s head, holding on tightly as he pounds into you from behind throughout your orgasm. The way he pants tells you that he is close, and when you yank the tiny curls at the nape of his neck, he starts to chase his release. 

“Javi,” you whisper loudly as he slams into your sensitive cunt, “Give it to me. Pleasepleaseplease. Need you to fill me up.”

“Fu— oh shit,” Javier swears in a low, rough growl as he snaps his hips a few last times before stilling inside of you. He feels impossibly big inside your cunt as he pumps you full of his come, cockhead resting at your cervix and coating you in warmth. 

“Jesus, we’re terrible at being quiet,” you whisper as he pants. You let your leg come down onto the other once again, a giggle suddenly building up in your chest. He starts laughing whilst still inside of you, hugging you tightly into his chest and nuzzling his nose into your cheek.

“They sleep through it, don’t gotta worry about it much anymore, I think,” he notes without care, kissing your cheek repeatedly despite still not having calmed his breath. You smile widely as you stare at the ceiling, overtaken by the love you feel for him every time he gets you to post-orgasmic bliss. 

“We need a date night soon though, Jesus. Perhaps Pop could take the kids home with him tomorrow after dinner and I could… do this again,” he smacks your ass playfully, then strokes your hip in soothing circles, and you almost purr like a cat at the gentle move, “Without a mute button on my pretty wife’s mouth, of course.”

“I’d like that,” you say with a soft and sweet sigh, acknowledging his attempt to make things from earlier up to you, “Been a while since you’ve made me scream. Wanna take our time.” 

Javier reaches down between you to pull out before he is completely soft. You hiss at being left empty when you are so spent, but Javier quickly distracts you with another string of kisses to your cheek and the corner of your mouth. He adds to the fantasy, “And then I’ll draw you a bath and you can spend as much time alone as you want. Don’t gotta be no one to anyone.” 

He moves on the bed as far as his arm that’s trapped beneath you allows him, going for the packet of wet wipes you keep on the nightstand. He had suggested them when it had become too hard during your third trimester for you to get out of bed after sex. He hands you a few and you hold them over your mound, enjoying the coolness of them.

“You know the way to my heart,” you say, wiggling a little and feeling his come seep out. It makes your nose crinkle.

“Well, I did convince you to marry me,” he replies. 

“Worst decision I’ve ever made,” you tease. Javier wraps his other arm around you, hand splayed on your belly. 

The position you are in is uncomfortable; Javier’s arm underneath you has got to be asleep by now and you feel damp with sweat due to him being like a furnace against your back.

Still, you both drift off slowly into the soundest sleep. You don’t wake up until two unexpected visitors barge in at the most ungodly hours of the morning, causing you to scramble for the blanket to cover your bodies up and hide the come-stained wet wipes in the nightstand drawer.

.

.

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[aliaology]

FRIENDS DONT

summary: it takes a night at home with your friends to realize you have feelings for your best friend, and hopefully you will find out if he reciprocates them.

pairings: quinn hughes x fem!reader

warning: just fluff lol maybe sum jealousy. the names lena, alisha, kaya and raine are used! if one of them is your name, change it as you please.

based on ‘friends dont’ by maddie and tae!

they dont cancel other plans. have conversations with nothing but their eyes. they dont hear each others names, and forget to concentrate. hits a nerve and lights you up like dynamite.

your friend scoffed, “there is no way you and quinn are just strictly best friends. no way.” she spoke.

you raised a brow as you leaned back onto your couch, the soft fabric rubbing slightly on your neck, sending chills down your spine. you look at all of your friends, seeing they all had agreed with her.

“lena, me and quinn are just friends. i mean come on, i’ve known him my entire life!” you spoke.

“babe, he cancels all of his plans just for you. literally he drops them.” alisha spoke. “remember when he had a date and left midway through because you told him you needed to talk to him after it?”

you sighed. “that was one time.”

“no, no it wasn’t.”

quinn picked his phone up, leaning against the bars counter, in the corner. a girl was all up on his side. “hello?” he spoke.

“quinny?” your voice broke through the phone. worry surged through the brunette. “are you busy?” you sniffled.

“no— no of course not, whats wrong?” he asked.

you let out a small sob, “he broke up with me.”

quinn’s jaw clenched. “ill be there soon.” he hung up the phone and walked away, immediately forgetting about the girl who clearly wanted to hook up.

his mind was on you and only you.

“that was one time and it wasn’t like he planned a date or anything. jesus.” you rolled your eyes.

“oh please— lets add how you two can so easily talk, but instead its with your eyes and not your words!”

you could admit that that was true. in every room, your gaze found quinn’s and it was almost as if you two knew what the other was thinking.

‘save me.’ ‘save you? save ME.’

no matter where you were, you and quinn were always linked in some sort of way.

you huffed and crossed your arms, “okay yeah, but we’ve known each other our entire lives, it’s normal!”

kaya looked at you with raised eyebrows. “so its normal to gaze into his eyes and forget the rest of the world around you..?”

“i do not do that!”

that hit a nerve.

friends dont call you in the middle of the night, couldn’t even tell you why, they just felt like saying ‘hi.’ friends dont stand around playing with their keys, finding reasons not to leave, tryin’ to hide the chemistry.

“there has to be something going on, girl. he literally will randomly call you in the middle of the night!” raine exclaimed.

“yeah— and he is currently doing it now.” alisha pointed at your phone.

your eyes widened and you grabbed your phone, quickly going to the kitchen. “hello?” you spoke into the phone.

“hi..” quinn said, softly.

“hey” you smile. “everything okay?” you asked.

quinn stumbled, head spinning as he heard your voice. he fumbled with his keys. “yeah yeah— sorry i uhm, i was gonna tell you something but it.. slipped.” he spoke, slowly.

lielielielielie

“its okay” you laugh slightly. “are you just getting home?” you ask.

he nods before remembering you couldn’t see him, “uh yeah— yeah. practice ran late today” he told. you could hear his keys jingle and then a door open.

“tired i assume?” you spoke.

he let out a breathy laugh. “a little.”

you smile. “ill let you go then, quinny. i think you need rest. ill call in the morning, okay?”

“okay” he spoke.

“bye quinn.”

“bye”

you walked back into the living room and sat down. “sorry” you smiled awkwardly.

“this is exactly what we mean, babe! plus he will stall for as long as he can just to stay here with you!” lena exclaimed.

drive a little too slow, take the long way home, get a little too close.

you yawned as quinn drove slowly through the rural side of michigan. his hand lied dangerously close to your thigh as his eyes focused on the road.

zach bryan softly played in the back as quinn took a small turn.

you looked over at him with furrowed brows. “where are we going?” you asked.

quinn stutters, “uhm— uh the uh— long way. i find it more pretty.” he got out.

you nodded and leaned against the center console. “better be pretty or you owe me, hughes” you grin.

they dont almost say ‘i love you’ when they’re downtown somewhere, just a little drunk. they dont talk about the future, and put each other in it. and get chills with every accidental touch.

“we can’t forget that one weekend when us girls went out” kaya stated.

raine groaned, “worst one of them all.”

you furrowed your brows. alisha looked at you, “do you not remember?” she asked.

you shook your head. lena sighs, “you got a little drunk, and called quinn, this was when we were all in the uber back. you called quinn to let him know you were on your way home because he asked you too.”

“you almost told him you loved him.” she finished.

you shrug, “i dont see the big deal, we say ‘love you’ all the time.

“babe, you almost said you were in love with him.” alisha clarified.

“then— all you did was tell us about how in the future, you only saw quinn. it was quinn this, quinn that.” raine explained.

“plus— we all see how you react when he touches you.” she added.

i keep telling myself this might be nothing, but one look in your eyes and god, there’s something. you can lie to me and say you dont..

there was no way. you let their words sink in. this was nothing, right? but then again, which pair of best friends acts like this? none of your girlfriends have mentioned stuff like this about their boy best friend.

imagining yourself with quinn was actively frequent and now you were starting to realize why.

“babes you can lie to us and say you dont love him, but honey we know you do.”

yeah, you do.

“i do. bu—but that doesn’t mean anything, guys. he has feelings too.”

then your phone went off.

‘can we meet in the morning?’

“i have a feeling he reciprocates them.”

lowkey love but lowkey HATE.

#quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #hockey #nhl imagine #vancover canucks #vancouver #nhl #nhl hockey

[kumquats-are-gay]

Johnny Cage x Reader (NSFW)

18+ (MINORS DNI)

Hey, fuckers, I finally made some of the Johnny Cage x Reader content I promised. Just spent the past five hours writing this instead of doing my homework, lol. I imagined MK1 Johnny Cage for this, so it reflects his specific personality the most, but you could probably imagine a different Johnny Cage. I plan on writing for daddy/DILF MK11 Johnny Cage at some point, too.

Anyways, if you know me irl, then dear god please do not read this, and do not mention this.

...unless like, you enjoyed it and want to talk about it in a good way, ya know? Otherwise just ignore it. You can judge me silently, just please not to my face. K, thanks. Lmao.

A/N: If people enjoy this enough, then I'll take some time to make a gn!reader version of this later! Beta read by me (extremely unreliable) and pasted directly from Google Docs, so pardon any weird formatting.

Words: 2,688

Tags: female!reader, afab anatomy, smut, kind of rough smut, safe sane and consensual, fluff, full Nelson position, creampie, implied breeding kink (it's there for 0.2 seconds), sexual photography (only at the beginning portion), light overstimulation, Johnny is absolutely smitten with you, feelings, Johnny is also a total goofball, Johnny is a horndog

Please lmk if there are any tags you think I'm missing and/or should add! <3

Edit: Here's the AO3 link!

✨You're Something Else✨

He flipped over to the inner camera and curtailed his pace as he angled his phone this way and that, getting the perfect framing. Of course, he had also taken care to angle his dick just right and surprised you with one harsh thrust against your bundle of nerves. The noise you made was borderline pornographic. And, as you’d find out, so was your expression. You heard the sound of a synthetic camera shutter, and the knowledge of what that meant sent a different shudder throughout your body. 

“Take a look, babe,” he breathed into your ear before bringing the screen close enough for you to get a good look. “God, we’re so hot.” You struggled to keep your head up so you could look; it repeatedly threatened to loll over as Johnny slowly swiveled his hips this way and that. He seemed to pick up on your troubles, but mercy wasn’t part of his arsenal today. “C’mon, focus, hon’,” he huffed, a tad petulant, and grabbed your chin with his free hand to at least keep you facing forward. His movements didn’t relent, however. Johnny’s chin was hooked over your shoulder so he could look at the picture some more, too. “Here, why don’t you hold it?”

You grabbed the phone and were able to gather a modicum of your wits and senses, just enough to cut through the blurry glaze over your eyes. There you were, held tightly within Johnny’s thick arms. One of his hands was squeezing your breast. A sliver of your skin could be seen gripped between a glimpse of his teeth. The flash caught the glistening sweat that covered your bodies. Oh, and your face bared one of the most fucked-out expressions you think you’ve ever seen on someone. All in all, it was an incredible picture. He had a knack for the camera, you’d give him that. Johnny couldn’t seem to agree more, too. You heard his appreciative groan as he studied the picture yet again, his cock twitching within you.

“Fuck, gonna get that one framed,” Johnny said through nearly-gritted teeth. You wondered in bewilderment just where he would put it.

He dropped the phone onto the mattress, ignoring it in favor of using both of his now-free hands to grab your waist and roll the both of you over. He pushed himself up and back against the headboard with your back still pressed against his firm chest and gripped the underneath of your plush thighs in the process. His sweaty palms slid up to the undersides of your knees, which were soon replaced as he hooked his elbows underneath them instead. In a display of strength, he effortlessly pulled your legs apart and backwards, keeping them held there. You hissed just a little at the pain; your hamstrings weren’t ready for a sudden stretch like that. But you bore through it, for you knew the outcome would most certainly be worth it.

He strained your legs just a bit more, pulling them further back in order to get your arms in his grasp, too. His wrists were pressed against the front of your shoulders, and he topped it off by threading his fingers together behind your head, clasping his hands against the base of your skull. You could feel his warm palms bearing down on the back of your neck. You obeyed and yielded to the applied pressure by allowing your head to be pushed and angled downward.

And, just like that, you were practically immobile. He had you in a body-lock impaled on his dick. In other words, you were utterly at his mercy. God, his cock was already pressing against places you didn’t think were possible to reach—you could only imagine what it would feel like once he got go- “AH!”

“Sorry about that,” Johnny laughed, sounding completely unapologetic about the sudden, sharp thrust, “looked like you were thinkin’ real hard about something.” If you had more control over your mental faculties at the moment, perhaps you would have rolled your eyes in something other than pleasure. “Probably thinking ‘bout my cock, huh?” he tacked on, as if he needed to elaborate upon the obvious implication of his previous statement. You felt a hot wave of embarrassment wash over you nonetheless. You tried to cover your face, but gave a plaintive cry when you remembered that your range of motion was extremely inhibited right now. Johnny chuckled behind you; your attempt at hiding yourself hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Johnny,” you whined, knowing fully well what saying his name like that did to him. Right on cue, you felt his dick twitch violently against your walls, but the man held fast. The realization that you wouldn’t be let off the hook so easily caused a delicious little knot of anxiousness to form in your belly.

“Nice try, sweetheart, but I wanna hear you say it,” he huffed against your hair. In a retaliation that doubled as a last-ditch effort to break his resolve, you clenched around him. This prompted a soft grunt to fall from his lips, but nothing more happened. He remained almost statue-still.

Feeling resigned and a little humiliated, you managed to whimper, “I-I was… thinking about your- your… cock…”

Johnny hummed in approval and rewarded you with a few thrusts, albeit rather shallow ones. You nearly wailed when he stopped again just to whisper into your ear, “Good, that’s good, babe, but I want the specifics; give me the dirty details.” The hands laced behind your neck kept you from throwing your head back in frustration.

“Johnny!” you cried out with more intensity than the last time. Johnny shuddered lightly, then blew out a focusing breath. He unlocked his fingers so that he could soothingly stroke your hair.

“C’mon, babe, you know I’m not gonna judge you for what you say, and it’s not like you’re sharing your thoughts with me unsolicited; I’m literally asking to hear them,” he cooed as he continued to mollify your flustered, frayed person. “And let’s be honest: you could say pretty much anything and it would turn me on.” You laughed in the form of a sharp exhale while a tear threatened to spill down your cheek. You couldn’t believe this man- he could be totally serious one moment, then have the humor of a teenage boy the next. It nearly gave you whiplash. Through it all, though, you heard the pleading sincerity underneath. No matter what, he was always so earnest with you—heartfelt to a fault. You loved him for that, and for many other reasons that would take too long to list. He wanted you to trust him, and you did. Wholly.

You sighed, though not in exasperation, and relaxed in his grip; you would have fallen forward if it hadn’t been for strong arms holding you up. The only thing that fell back was your head which now rested on his shoulder. Always an opportunist, Johnny took this moment to suckle at your exposed neck as you gathered your words (though his consistent mouthing made that a bit difficult). “I was, um… thinking about your- your dick, and how it would… feel in this position, f-fucking me.”

Johnny outright groaned this time, no longer feeling the need to hold himself back as you finally began to confess. “Yeah?” he prompted.

“Y-yeah…” you swallowed the lump in your throat before continuing, “‘cause it feels deep- deeper than usual.” At long last, you felt him start to move, causing immediate relief to flood your system. But you weren’t done; he had been so sweet when asking you, after all. Plus, the noises he began to make served as fuel for that fire within you, scorching and tantalizing all at once. “A-and just- ngh- how far you… hah, could- could come inside me.”

“Holy shit, yes,” Johnny gasped with excitement. His pace grew even more rapid after hearing your admission. “Gonna fill you to the goddamn brim-” he was almost panting now, “-and fuck my come so deep inside of you that- ah, fuck- that, soon enough, everyone will know who you belong to.” Another deluge of molten lava surged through you, responding to the implication held in his filthy words. Yet, you were helpless in this position to do anything about it. All you really could do was allow yourself to be used as Johnny’s personal fleshlight, but you didn’t mind. He bullied himself into you relentlessly, sparing you not a single moment of his love and lust for you, and the squelching sounds that echoed throughout the room were downright obscene. “Goddamn, you’re so fucking wet,” Johnny breathed. Your thighs were sore and you knew your voice would be scratchy tomorrow with how he was making you scream to the high fuckin’ Heavens and back. Your muscles begin to repeatedly tense and relax, a sign alongside your high-pitched keening that you were quickly approaching your orgasm.

“Oh, fuck,” he hissed at the intense stimulation you were providing. His grip turned vice as any inhibitions of his that were left (read: very few) were thrown out the door along with the metaphorical key. “Fuck…fuck!” He kept your thighs and arms squeezed between his biceps and forearms, leaving you unable to do anything but take it. It seemed like Johnny wasn’t very far behind you, but you needed just a little bit more to reach your release. So, naturally, you began to beg.

“Plea- GUH- nn…ple- h-ease…! Touch- hah…need-!” you sputtered, barely able to form a single coherent word with just how ruthlessly he was jackhammering into you. Knowing you and your body well by now, Johnny was able to interpret your nearly incomprehensible request. 

“Be good for me, baby,” he groaned. Johnny then released one of your arms and legs as he slid the respective hand down your torso—lightly pinching your tit on its way down—and over your sex. “Be a good girl and come for me,” he demanded before he pressed his finger against your clit and began to apply pressure in movements of tight little circles. It barely took five more seconds for you to come. You practically convulsed on his lap, your body jerking this way and that as pure ecstasy overtook every fiber of your being. Being the gentleman that he is, Johnny fucked you through it all, riding the wave of your frenzy alongside you. 

Oversensitivity began to inevitably settle in, though, and Johnny was still tearing through you like a bull in a china shop. Though the mingled pain and pleasure felt amazing, you weren’t sure how much of it you could take. Just as you were about to voice this, Johnny fiercely shouted your name before you felt the unmistakable warmth of his semen saturating your insides. He held you tightly against him as he continued shooting ropes of cum into your throbbing, awaiting pussy, all of which you readily accepted as you milked his cock with unrivaled greed. The peak of his pleasure seemed to go on for a while before he eventually began to simmer down. His whole body relaxed and he repositioned his arms around your waist while he eased his grip. 

It took some time for the both of you to regain your breath. Johnny’s fanned over your neck as your own grazed his collarbone. After some time you felt both of your hearts begin to settle, beating in and out of synchronicity. Johnny pressed a kiss against your temple, eliciting a contented sigh from you.

“God, you’re so hot,” Johnny proclaimed.

“I thought we were both hot?” you asked, parroting his statement from earlier.

“Well yeah, we are; I wasn’t People’s Sexiest Man Alive last year for nothing.” You actually did roll your eyes in amusement this time—would he ever stop bringing that up? “But, you? God, you’re…” he trailed off, momentarily at a loss for words (an extraordinarily scarce occurrence). Your heart skipped a beat as he struggled for what to say. “You’re just something else, you know? I don’t know how else to describe it—you’re just…amazing. Smart, funny, supportive, sexy-” he lowered his voice as he spoke the last word and drummed his fingers against your sides. You didn’t have to turn around to know he was wiggling his eyebrows like a fool. You lightly backhanded his shoulder for his antics, but he only laughed and grabbed your hand before you could pull it back and laced his fingers with yours. “Okay, no, seriously though, you always have my back no matter what I do or say, even when you know I’m wrong, as rare as that is-” This time, you used your other hand to softly smack at his chest. He laughed again, and you couldn’t help but giggle with him, especially when he did as you had expected and grabbed your other hand and also intertwined it with his own. After your snorts and snickering died down, he decided to kiss the tip of your nose.

“‘Something else’, huh?” you mirthfully repeated with a gleam in your eye. Johnny looked at you like a lovesick fool with those big, brown puppy-dog eyes.

“Something else,” he firmly restated as he held your gaze. You couldn’t help the shy, soft smile that adorned your features.

“At the risk of overinflating your ego, I have to say that I also find you to be ‘something else’,” you expressed, and then decided to elaborate,” “underneath all of that muscle, bravado, and good looks, you’re a big softy who has a heart of gold and lots of love to give, and I wouldn’t rather spend my time with anyone else.”

Johnny’s expression had morphed into a mixture of disbelief and awe by this point. He didn’t say a word—just continued looking at you like you might have hung the moon and the stars. It was a little overwhelming, though certainly not unwelcome. And then the goofiest grin you’ve ever seen on him suddenly stretched across his face, reaching from ear to ear. The look was completed with a single quirked eyebrow.

“You think I’m good looking, huh?”

“Oh, my God,” you groaned exasperatedly, but you couldn’t help the hint of amusement that seeped into your voice. “That’s it, I’m sleeping in the other room.” Though joking, you let go of his hands and made to get up, but Johnny’s reaction was instantaneous; he pulled you back against him, and only then did you realize that his penis was still inside of you as you felt it shift during the sudden movement. 

“Nooo, stay here,” he whined petulantly. He reaffirmed his grasp around your waist and kept you in his lap, snugly wrapped around his cock. Your stomach fluttered a little bit at the feeling of still being full while his seed dripped down along your perineum. 

You made an exaggerated sound of irritation, clearly putting on an act, and dramatically exclaimed, “Ugh, fine, I guess I can stay for a bit longer.”

“Knew you couldn’t resist my charm,” Johnny hummed into your hair, muffling his voice a bit. You just shook your head and smiled.

“You never miss an opportunity, do you?”

“Nope!”

You chuckled again before settling in against him, squirming around a bit to try and get comfortable. “You gonna pull out anytime soon, oorrr…?” you inquired.

For a brief moment, he acted like he was actually going to think about it, then quickly replied, “Nah, don’t think I will.” Though you weren’t opposed to the idea, this was certainly a new behavior from Johnny. You furrowed your brow.

“And why’s that?” 

“Hmm, I said I was going to fuck my cum into you,” he recalled like he was telling you about yesterday’s weather. And just like that, the dying ember that resided in your abdomen flared back to life. You could hear him lick his lips, which was followed by a nibble at your earlobe. He purred against it, “or have you already forgotten?” You could feel him beginning to harden again inside of your abused cunt.

Oh, this was going to be a long night.

#mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #johnny cage #mk1 johnny cage #mortal kombat johnny cage #mortal kombat 1 johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #mk1 johnny cage x reader #mk1 fanfiction #johnny cage x you #johnny cage x y/n #uhhh come get y'all's JUICE

[beatingdrumspouringwine]

Personal Dionysian Ritual

This is the ritual form I use for my Sunday worship (or, in this case, first-day-of-Anthesteria worship). I think this may hit closer to Catholic or Christian formats than historic Greek pagan ritual formats, at least if the book Hellenic Polytheism - Household Worship is to be believed. But this format is just a bit easier on me in terms of supplies, time, and ability to keep it semi-covert. I don't have the ability to light fires in my current space, but when I do, I usually include a prayer to Hestia at the beginning and end.

Dionysian Ritual (for Sundays) (Usually) (It's not set in stone)

Approach the altar or worship space. With you, there must be:

A bowl or other vessel filled with water (can be small).

Optionally, you may have:

Wine

Barley

Sea salt

Divination tools (I prefer tarot, or Sappho/Homeromanteions when I can get my hands on it).

A candle or other source of heat/light/incense (smells, basically)

Place the bowl of water either in front of your statue of Dionysos, or, if no statue is available, in a central spot in your space of worship. The wine and extra supplies may be placed anywhere else. Begin:

Orphic Hymn to Dionysos (Apostolos N. Athanassakis translation) I call upon loud-roaring and reveling Dionysos, primeval, two-natured, Thrice-born, Bacchic Lord, savage, ineffable, two-horned and two-shaped. Ivy-covered, bull-faced, warlike, howling, pure, You take raw flesh, You have triennial feasts, wrapped in foliage, decked in grape clusters. Resourceful Eubouleus, immortal God sired by Zeus when He mated with Persephone in unspeakable union, Harken to my voice, O blessed one, and with your fair-girdled nurses, Breathe on me in spirit of perfect kindness.

After the Orphic hymn, consecrate the bowl of water to make khernips. You may add salt if desired.

Dionysian Khernips Prayer (In between each verse of the Khernips Prayer, I move from just having the bowl on the altar, to holding the sides of the bowl, to holding the bowl up for the last verse.)

After the Khernips Prayer, I pray to Hagios as I actually ritually wash myself with the newly made khernips.

Hagios (For every verse of Hagios, I start with washing my face, then move to washing my hands, and finally sprinkle khernips on my feet, especially if I'm planning on dancing. This isn't actual washing, but more like lightly splashing water on the different parts of me that I wash.)

After Hagios, if there is wine, then I consecrate that, which I'll link my prayer for below. If there isn't, then I libate clean water (will be writing a prayer for that at some point soon), and move on to the next part of the ritual.

Wine Consecration to Dionysos (From the part where I say "This is the gift that..." through to "on the slopes of Mount Kithairon", I raise the wine towards my statue Dionysos as though toasting Him, which is inspired by art showing Maenads serving Dionysos wine.)

After the wine consecration, I pour out a libation of wine to Dionysos while praying my prayer to Dionysos Theoinos:

Theoinos

After the prayer to Theoinos, whatever happens next is up to you. If I'm doing any divination, I'll say a prayer to Dionysos Mantis before going ahead with it. Otherwise, I may dance, or talk about my day, or simply do prayer after prayer after prayer until I've kind of exhausted my talking point. Since most of my rituals are done at night, however, the consistent part is frequently the end, which is my second prayer to Dionysos Nyktelios:

Nyktelios II

And there you have it! I definitely finished this a bit later than I was planning, but that's okay - I got it out, and that's all that matters! I hope everyone has a good night and a beautiful Anthesteria, and that this was helpful to some degree :)

#dionysian #dionysos #dionysus #hellenic polytheism #hellenic polytheist #dionysos deity #dionysus deity #hellenic pagan #hellenic gods #hellenism #paganblr #helpol #pagan rituals #ritual #anthesteria

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 18

Welcome to another WIP Wednesday!

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

Arc 1 AO3 Link

Arc 2: Part 1, Previous

Word Count: 1.7k

-----

From the radio station, the four traveled to the television studio for their next interview. The host had listened to their radio interview and helped summarize much of the information before asking further questions.

Tim and his teammates called into question the biases of the Drs Fenton and hoped their criticisms would bring others to think twice before taking their word as gospel.

When they were finally done, it was almost nine.

Tim shot off a quick text to Bruce for his morning check-in. He noticed Conner texting someone, too. “Who’re you talking to?” he asked.

“Sam. She says Danny’s still passed out. But her parents are talking about some sort of press release the mayor is planning on putting on at City Hall at ten.”

Cassie groaned. “Ugh, more reporters. Please say we don’t have to go.”

“We should,” said Tim. “But we can go in civvies.”

“Can we at least get breakfast first?” asked Bart. “It’s been hours since we woke up!”

“Yeah,” agreed Cassie. “I’m starving. Let’s get some food. I think I saw a diner when we flew to our second interview.”

Before Tim could consider protesting, Conner had him secure in his arms and TTK and they were in the air.

“Lead the way, Wonder Girl.”

Tim scowled to hide his smile. “Oh sure, don’t listen to your leader. Just do whatever.”

“You’d let us starve?” wailed Connor. “Then we’ll stage a mutiny!”

Cassie laughed. “Yeah, see how long you remain in charge of a hangry speedster, half-kryptonian, and demigoddess.”

Tim grinned. “Oh, but you forget I know you all very well. I can win you back to my side. Starting with Kon.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” demanded Conner.

“Easy. I’ll just bribe you with Alfred’s cookies and a great movie. If I add in a dash of ‘I need your help’ and my puppy dog eyes and you’ll be eating out of the palm of my hand.”

“That’s another square on my bingo card!” called back Cassie. “And look, we’re here!” She pointed down to a quintessential American diner with green glass windows.

The group met Bart a block away in an alley where they shed their gear.

“I’ll tell Sam what we’re up to.” Conner pulled out his phone to send the message.

“Quit wasting time! We’re on a deadline,” moaned Bart as he positioned himself behind Conner and tried to push him towards the street and breakfast.

Conner laughed and refused to budge, so Tim figured a demonstration of his power was in order.

He got in front of Conner and pouted at him. “I know I was joking about not allowing breakfast, but I’m the one who didn’t eat before the interviews. An omelet is calling my name.”

Conner groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Fuck you, Rob.” But he stalked forward out of the alley.

Tim and Bart exchanged grins.

“Seriously, Tim,” said Cassie. “This trip has been great for my bingo card.”

Tim stuck his tongue out at her and jogged to catch up with Conner.

Breakfast was simple but tasty and they devoured far too much food. Their waitress was clearly impressed with her first exposure to a speedsters appetite. Add in a super and a demigoddess and it was obscene.

All too soon, however, it was time to go to the mayor’s press conference. As they made their way there, they joined a growing crowd. Clearly many people were interested in whatever the mayor had planned.

In the crowd, he could hear comments about their interviews. It seems both had been posted online and already had thousands of views. Some people seemed to be sympathetic to them, but others were mistrustful of the “outsiders.”

“If they’re such good friends, why did it take so long for them to come here?” asked one man of his friend.

“I’ve a cousin in Central City. She says trouble always follows a superhero,” said another.

Tim exchanged a look with Conner. He’d be able to hear more conversations and could share his perceptions later.

Before long, they were entering City Hall. Already the seats were full, so they were forced to stand in the back. Jack and Maddie were sitting near the front. Jeremy and Pamela Manson sat on the opposite side of the room as them, but also were near the front of the room.

Tim exchanged looks with his teammates to make sure they saw both couples. Conner was glaring at Maddie and Jack.

“They’re complaining about our interviews,” said Conner. “Throwing around guesses that we are either possessed or have already been brainwashed by the ghosts.”

“At least we know they aren’t observant. Maybe they won’t notice us.”

Mayor Montez stepped up to the podium and everyone fell silent. “People of Amity Park, we have been faced with a threat the likes of which we’ve never before seen! And based on the events of this morning, it doesn’t seem like we’ll be able to rely on outside help to get us out of it.”

A stone sunk in Tim’s stomach and he exchanged looks with his friends.

“We only have one piece of business today: Defeating the ghosts that infest our town. And to do that, I'm calling for a vote to cede all ghost policing and security decisions”—he held up a photo of Maddie—“to Maddie Fenton.” As Tim watched, however, the mayor’s eyes glowed red and he winced. “I mean Jack,” he corrected, holding up a new picture of Jack Fenton. “The completely competent Jack Fenton.”

“He’s overshadowed,” breathed Conner.

Tim nodded and was already sending a message to Sam, Tucker, and Danny. “And who knows who else.”

Before they could say anything else, the mayor continued, “And we’ve located the ghost responsible for all the terror inflicted on our town.” He held up a picture of Phantom. “Whatever some outsiders may have tried to lie to you about this very morning.”

A gasp rang out among the crowd. Tim glanced at his friends. Conner was glaring at the mayor fiercely and Tim attempted to step in front of him, as pointless as their relative sizes made the action.

The mayor smiled viciously as a panicked crescendo rose from the crowd. Tim’s phone vibrated in his hand and he saw a response from Sam.

Sam: We saw Sam: Danny is on his way Sam: And we’re following as fast we can

Under his breath, Tim muttered, “Conner, you and Bart should go suit up. Cassie and I will stay and keep an eye on what’s going on. Stay close, but try not to be seen unless an attack happens.” Subtly, grateful for their places against the wall, he passed over the thermos he’d taken with him that morning.

Tim heard Conner’s sigh of relief as the two slipped away. He hated pretending to be a civilian in a crisis. Even more than the rest of them.

Cassie whispered, “I almost hate you for keeping me here.”

Tim just bumped their shoulders together.

The mayor, or rather the ghost inhabiting him, raised his arm and silence slowly fell. “We cannot call for outside help. Those who call themselves the Young Justice today proved that the so-called heroes of this world will defend our enemy over us. That they will spread lies to keep us subject to the whims of these ghosts.” The last word was spat. “So we must solve the problem ourselves. Jack Fenton, if the people of this town agree, you and those you train will be our defense force, will you do this?”

Jack near jumped three feet in the air in his excitement. “I’ve been training for this my entire life, Mayor Montez! I’ll be honored.”

“I believe we must institute martial law! The 9 PM curfew will remain in place. No one will be allowed on the streets alone. No loitering. The park will be closed until further notice. Same with the public pool and library and a number of other locations. Drs Fenton, will you be able to set up buildings protected by ghost shields where people can gather for safety?”

Whispering broke out among the public. Maddie stood tall next to her husband, though being continually overlooked in favor of him was clearly grating on her. “We can. Fenton Works is already protected and within two days we can have another shield up and ready. Within the week, we could have five.”

The whispered were almost loud enough to drown her out by the time she finished speaking

“Order! Order!” called Mayor Montez. “All in favor of declaring martial law, and allowing the completely competent Jack Fenton to mobilize a massive ghost hunt, please say—”

But cutting off the mayor, Danny, in his Phantom form, suddenly appeared in the air in the middle of the hall. “I might be too young to vote, but I’m casting one anyway.”

Around them, everyone gasped and people began backing away even as Danny shifted to look at them. Tim and Cassie both tensed and prepared to run.

“You people have to listen to me,” urged Danny. “I’m on your side.”

Mayor Montez took a step back as members of his security moved to stand in front of him. Jack and Maddie jumped up and glared at him.

“You’re not fooling anybody, ghost kid!” declared Jack. “You are going down!” He reached back and pulled out the Fenton fishing rod, the line was horribly tangled and Jack began messing with it. “As soon as I finish untangling this thing.”

Cassie let out a disbelieving huff.

Tim shook his head. “Apparently,” he replied to her unasked question. He pulled out his phone and shot a message to Bart and Conner.

Rob: get back here now Rob: All 4 of us are needed

Before he even finished typing his last message, Bart was at his side. Just in time to see Danny mutter something and shoot an ectoblast at his parents who were thrown back with the force of it, destroying the podium and leaving a burn mark on the ground.

“Shit,” muttered Tim. “Cassie, let’s go. Impulse, try to help where you can.”

“You’ve got it.”

----

Next

And so the best of intentions go awry!

I can almost taste the end of this arc, but for all I know, that'll take another 10k to finish. So we'll see what happens. Hope you enjoyed.

I no longer do tag lists, but please check out the Subscription Post if you want to be notified of updates.

#dpxdc #now we find out the consequences of the interviews #amity parkers not trusting the JL will have zero consequences for the town #none at all #walker's plan is still going forward #and the worst is yet to come #*evil grin*

[earlyzakariya]

Why I think Starlo/North Star has Narcissistic Personality Disorder

Narcissistic Personality Disorder (or people who are Narcissists) is a disorder based in self esteem issues where an individual shows patterns of grandiosity, needing admiration, and a lack of empathy.

Before I go further, I want to specify that people with NPD are not evil and being a Narcissist is not inherently a bad thing. People with NPD are not by nature harmful to their friends and family, and can have healthy relationships like anyone else. I know there's a fuck ton of stigma about the word Narcissist, so this was important for me to clarify.

Starlo places himself in the role of a leader, this role is shown to be self appointed and people follow along because there's not much else to do. He goes out of his way to put himself in a position of false power instead of just an entertainer.

The minute he meets someone who he idolises (Clover the REAL cowboy) he throws almost every other plan he has to try and impress Clover, which I think is because of how low his self esteem is. He is less harsh on Clover because of this desire to appeal to them.

While I think that he wasn't completely in the wrong with the kerfuffle with the feisty five, he did unknowingly treat them far worse than he did with Clover. He doesn't realise that he's done anything wrong until everyone literally stops talking to him.

He also turns around and shoves the blame onto Clover, which shows how he thinks he can't possibly be wrong for what happened. He fears that he can't win, and to prove he is still superior than others he restrains Clover to make himself feel better.

Then there's where Starlo reveals what he actually looks like, and how he's simply a fraud. This was honestly the most damning for me considering how he let the image he built up crumble.

The first four instances all link directly into some of the main traits associated with NPD, and I think the last one truly shows how people with NPD commonly use a persona similar to Starlo's North Star persona. NPD is driven by insecurity, and so are Starlo's actions in UTY. Even after he reveals his true identity to Clover, he quickly slips back into the persona because even though he revealed who he is to the person he idolises (Clover) he's still extremely insecure about being Starlo.

Okay that's all for now I want to add more but it's late and my main point was just to prove why I think Starlo has NPD to another person, I will probably revisit this soon because of how near and dear this hc is to me lmao. This should've been longer honestly

@profounddefendorcrusade-blog

#starlo undertale yellow #starlo #starlo uty #undertale yellow #uty #zariya rambles

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday💀

tagged by @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @disasterbuckdiaz @hoodie-buck 💖

hi! so, yesterday I randomly opened the doc with the buddie death cast au - which is a fic I started writing last summer on vacation and never got back to it but then made progress lol it's gonna be MCD, which i know is not everyone's thing so feel free to ignore this 🤣 it's basically buddie in the universe of the "they both die at the end"/"the first to die at the end" books so it's gonna be sad, sorry lol (I never even read mcd, idk why i'm writing this but this idea just wants to be written i guess haha) gotta put this weird mood I've been in lately to good use and finally write this 🤣 not sure if I'm happy with this snippet, but it all needs editing, the first two snippets were written on my phone and haven't been edited yet lol

I posted two snippets so far, gonna link them both snippet 1 | snippet 2

___

“Is all of this clear, Eddie?” she asks in the end.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” he says shortly. He should've just hung up immediately. Or cancel this stupid subscription after Shannon died. Sometimes he wonders if maybe people who get the calls and coincidentally get into accidents, for example, just give up and refuse to fight because they think it’s their time. Not like Shannon could do much, her injuries were too severe when they got there, but the point stands. Maybe they get more reckless, thinking it doesn’t matter anyway. 

There’s a short pause on the line, but then Jane speaks up again, her tone softer, more sympathy seeping through.

“I know it’s not easy to accept, if you’d like some help with that, on out website you can find therapists and grief counselors specializing in-”

“Listen.” Eddie interrupts. He’s spent enough time in therapy. He’s not doing it on his supposedly last day. “I know it’s all bullshit. I don’t care. You said what you had to say, I listened, for whatever reason.” he rolls his eyes. He really should’ve hung up, or not answered at all. “Is this conversation over yet?” he asks and is met with another moment of silence. She’s probably wondering what everyone else always is: why is he even spending money on this if he doesn’t believe. He has an answer ready to go, but that’s not what she asks.

“Can I ask you a question?” she says quieter, whispering, probably not allowed to go too much off-script. 

“Sure, why not.” he shrugs. He’s wide awake now, anyway, he’s not in a hurry. Not like he’s dying anytime soon.

“If it was your last day, how would you spend it? You don’t have to answer, just think about it.” she adds quickly, her tone much softer and gentler now. Eddie’s mind immediately supplies a picture of Christopher and Buck, just a casual hang-out, like usual, maybe going to the movies, or the aquarium, or the planetarium, something fun for his kid. And later a gathering with the rest of their family, maybe a barbecue at Bobby and Athena’s, with Maddie and Chim, and Hen and Karen, all their kids, just everyone having fun together. Yeah, that’d be a perfect day. “There’s no harm in spending today just like this, if possible. Just in case.” Jane adds, still whispering. He doesn’t tell her that’s more or less his plan, anyway, for the evening after his 12-hour shift. During which nothing will happen to him, because Death-Cast doesn’t know shit. “Well, lastly, Eddie,” Jane’s voice is back at normal-volume, tone strictly professional but sympathetic, as she recites the end of her script, “on behalf of everyone here at Death-Cast, we’re so sorry to lose you. Live this day to the fullest.”

Eddie hangs up without a word.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @housewifebuck @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @nmcggg @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @king-buckley @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @buckaroosheart @spagheddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @exhuastedpigeon @jesuisici33 @theotherbuckley @rainbow-nerdss @malewifediaz @giddyupbuck @diazsdimples @jeeyuns @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @honestlydarkprincess @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks

#tease tidbit tuesday #death cast buddie au #buddie wip #buddie fic #buddie #wikiangela writes #my writing #fic snippet #my wips #angst #buddie angst #mcd #i don't know how yet but eddie will die in this one bc apparently ive been in the mood to break my own heart lmao #i wanted to say maybe i'd share smth happier tomorrow but i don't think i have any happy wips im actively working on rn??? #there are happy wips in general but im not really in the mood/inspired for those rn #ran out of happy when i finished the natalia fic i guess lol #who even am i lmao what's with all the angst and sad im usually all about fluff 🤣 #(gonna share some more of alive shannon tomorrow!) #btw if you haven't read the books and have questions hmu but also i'll try to make everything clear in the fic lol #but also SO recommend the books they're so good and so sad and I think about them like at least once a week (the prequel wrecked me)

[meanlesbean]

Here, have 1,400 words of Majora's Mask angst. inspired by a conversation with @gintrinsic-writing about Link having to pick and choose who to help on the final cycle. I'll put this on my ao3 in a few days when I think of a title. (Edit: better ao3 version up now)

————————————————

On the afternoon of the final day, the Milk Bar is empty.

Madame Aroma won’t arrive for another few hours. In twenty minutes, one of the members of the town guard will show up, but he won’t stay long. He’ll order one of the special drinks that Mister Barten won’t let Link try, chug it all in one big gulp, and then lay his head down on the counter to weep quietly for four and a half minutes. When he’s finished crying, he’ll ask for a shot of something off the top shelf—surprise him, just this once. Then, after his last drink, he’ll shake Mister Barten’s hand, put his helmet back on, and leave.

Unlike some of the other guards, he won’t abandon his post. When the moon falls and swallows the world, he’ll bear witness to the end from his station at the town entrance. 

Right now, it’s just Link and Tatl at the counter. Mister Barten is sweeping up on the stage, and he’s got the phonograph playing some soft piano music instead of the usual Indigo-Go’s songs, which Link is grateful for. Mister Barten isn’t as talkative as he usually is, but Link hasn’t been able to figure out if it’s because it’s the final day or if it’s because Link won’t talk himself. Either way, it’s quiet. The nice kind of quiet too, unlike the Stock Pot Inn, which gets creepy after Anju and her family evacuate. Even with everyone gone, the floorboards don’t stop creaking. 

It’s a good place for thinking and planning. That’s the most important thing left for him to do.

Or at least, that’s what Link thinks. Tatl has other ideas. 

“Are you going to squeeze in an afternoon nap or what?” She buzzes around him like an insect. Link’s adrenaline from the battle against Twinmold had worn off by the time they got back to Clock Town, but Tatl always takes longer to settle after a fight. She lands on the counter to take a small sip of her Chateau Romani, kindly poured into the smallest shot glass in the bar by Mister Barten, and then flies a few more laps around his head. “If you don’t go to bed soon, you won’t be rested before the reset, and I know you’ll stay up with Romani instead of sleeping the next night. I don’t want to be rescuing my brother while you’re in one of your moods.”

Link waves a hand out to get her to stop circling. He gives her a pointed look and then taps the end of his pencil against his open bomber's notebook twice. It’s a portion of his records of the first day, near illegible now with how much information he’s crammed onto the pages. That’s why he’s got a few clean sheets of paper ripped out and put to the side. If this is really the final reset, he can’t afford to waste time with indecision. 

“Huh?” Tatl says. She floats over the notebook to examine it, washing out the pages in her golden light. She flutters and makes an annoyed chiming noise. “What are you getting at now? There can’t be anything else to add on here. You’ve stalked everyone in Termina long enough already.” 

Link shakes his head and holds out his hand. Tatl lands on his palm, her magic tickling at his skin like the sparks from a light arrow, and he lifts her up to his shoulder. His posture relaxes as soon as she sits, the warm buzz of her magic trickling down through his chest and back. An ache he hadn’t noticed in his upper back disappears. It still feels a little weird sometimes, having her nestled in the crook of his neck. The first time her wing had brushed against his neck, he’d almost hit her on reflex, and she didn’t talk to him for the whole day after. Navi had always preferred to perch on top of his head. 

On one of the clean pages, Link lists out all the hours, from six o’clock to five o’clock the next morning. He repeats this for the next page. For the last one, he adds an extra hour at the end and draws the moon and its hungry maw.  Next, he circles Romani’s name in his notebook. On his new timetable, he writes her name between the hours of two and five in the morning. 

He knows that Tatl understands because he feels her go still, then huddle closer to him. Still, he flips through the notes he’s taken, over two dozen pages, for emphasis. Some of his notes are about the temples—he hadn’t made it through the Snowhead or Great Bay temples on his first attempts—but even excluding those, there’s too much. 

Tatl doesn’t speak. In his notebook, Link sees Pamela’s name, and he circles it like he’d done for Romani. When he looks at his timetable though, he pauses. He and Tatl have restored the flow of the Ikana creek and healed Pamela’s father three times: once very late into the night of the second day, once in the morning of the first day, and once more in the evening of the first day. From what Link can tell, Pamela doesn’t sleep well when her father is cursed, and that means Link can free her father at any time.

Pamela needs her father. He knows that, even if he doesn’t fully understand it. She’s young and scared and alone, and Link shouldn’t make her wait. When he looks at the blank time slots of the first day though, all he can see is dozens of other things he needs to do. If he’s going to reunite Anju and Kafei, he needs to spend the afternoon in Clock Town so can talk to Anju. And while he’s in town, it only makes sense for him to help the Great Fairy and go solve the argument in the mayor’s office. He should free at least one of the Giants on that first day too—he can make his way through the temples pretty quickly now, but he couldn’t rush the battles against the beasts holding the Giants captive. Potions and fairies don't work as well when he doesn't sleep. He’d learned the hard way that one little mistake in those battles could take him hours to recuperate from. 

His hand holding the pencil is frozen above the paper. Link stares at the blank pages. 

He feels Tatl release a tiny, quivering breath. Her wings flicker against him a few times as she leans forward. “Okay. We’re not going back to the Stone Tower on the first day. I need a break from that horrible place, and you need to get at least some sleep before going there again. You can take a nap in Romani’s bed, or in Epona’s stall since you’re a little freak, after we defend the ranch. We’ll go to Ikana and free Pamela’s dad and the Giant afterwards. Got it?”

Link nods and picks up the pencil. He gives himself two hours to sleep, then blocks off the rest of the morning for fixing Ikana. Tatl lets out a little ringing noise in approval, then says, “So, we’re going through the whole ordeal of getting Anju and Kafei back together, right?” He nods again. “Okay, then write Anju’s name in the two and eleven thirty times slots.” He does. “We need to go to the ranch and talk to Romani at some point during the day. Let’s do that at five so we can stay for dinner. We can go to the cucoo shack before eating too. Helping Grog always makes you smile.”

Link puts down the pencil. Before Tatl can scold him, he brings his hand up to where she's perched, and he closes his eyes and presses her closer against him. Tatl shifts a bit, and then she wraps both her small arms around his hand. He trembles, and she doesn’t say anything. 

She lets him hold her like that for a minute before she starts pushing him away. “Move your hand, would ya? I can’t read anything like this.”

Link pulls away from her and picks up the pencil again. Tatl pats his shoulder. It feels like raindrops. “Okay, let’s finish filling in the first day. You ready?”

When Link nods, it's the truth. 

“Good. We’ve got this.”

Link believes her.

#majora's mask #loz fanfic #legend of zelda #legend of zelda fanfiction #loz fic #my fic

[sillydeafwitch]

Sdmi au post 2! Or is it 3?…

If you don’t know what I’m talking about this is the previous post for my sdmi au, which has a link to the first one.

I’m gonna call the og mystery inc the “OG gang” and the current mystery inc “Treasure Hunter gang.” REMEMBER THISSSS (this is more to me than to you lol)

More info time! <3

Brad and Judy are doctors and their job takes up a lot of time, though they do make a good living off it. They are pretty exhausted and aren’t around at home during most of the day for Fred. And when they are they are very burnt out from work. (Of course they don’t mean to neglect Fred, but they do- see my last au post for what Fred does due to that.)

Marcie is actually considered a popular student in this au, she won a certain competition (probably a science fair or something like that) and got a lot of recognition. Her fathers theme park is a little more active but they are still relatively poor. She isn’t a fan of being popular since she doesn’t really like all the kids being on her for questions, or asking her to do their homework.

Jones…I actually kinda struggled on what I would do with his character since a lot of it hinged on being a greedy mayor and Fred’s father, at least on the surface. But I think I did pretty decently with his character.

He would be double crossed by Pericles instead of the other way around, and get a pretty long sentence in a maximum security prison. But their comes a time in the story where the og gang want information about the planispheric disc- so they can get all the pieces before Pericles does. Jones gives them some information, but leaves out some of the aspects that reveal how truly dangerous this treasure is, so they don’t take it away from him once he plans to get it.

Him staying at the prison has let him be VERY corrupted. He really lacks any sort of feeling other than a desire for the disc- but this in turn makes the best part of him just that desperate so he latched onto anything that could keep him somewhat resistant to the curse.

He escapes prison soon after the visit from the og mystery inc and teams up with Pericles early season 2, or whatever this aus equivalent of it is, under the promise that he and Pericles would share the disc and whatever power they had. The Treasure Hunter gang would also team up with Pericles again at this point.

Pericles uses him as a tool to demonstrate to the Treasure Hunter gang what will happen if they don’t fall in line. (Jones gets the snake torture :[ ) Jones defends the kids when Pericles goes a bit to far in his harshness towards them, which results in what I just said.

I would add more too this but I wanna also focus on other characters in this post so that’s all your getting of him for now.

George Avocados is the mayor in this au. He’s also after the treasure since he found some old research papers from Jones. He doesn’t have clear idea of what he’ll do with the treasure, but he assumes he will prosper once he gets it since he doesn’t know why anyone else would want it so bad other than for fortune. Eventually he gets caught trying to steal pieces from the Treasure Hunter kiddos and gets arrested. The Og mystery inc end up taking Avocados research finding along with Jones research papers and documents.

Sheriff Stone is still Sheriff in this au, and he is constantly catching Daphne and Fred doing vandalism or catching them hanging out with dangerous people. He occasionally catches Velma and Shaggy staying at libraries WAY past their closing time.

He puts on a tough face and a grumpy attitude toward the kids, but does genuinely worry for them- and their parrot gives him the creeps!

Avocados often orders him around and treats him worse than Jones would. Plus they are hardly friends. The Sheriff catches the OG gang trespassing and once they explain their situation and why they are doing it he is skeptical, but he lets them go, since he doesn’t want those kids getting into anymore freaky business.

He often lets the OG gang go and makes excuses so they don’t face charges for their mysteries, he really only ever arrests them once or twice, and it was because he couldn’t make any sort of defense for them.

Once Mayor Nettles shows up their relationship progresses pretty similar to the show, but it’s gonna be sorta sweet since Sheriff Stone isn’t used to have a mayor treat him with respect.

Mayor Nettles tries to take more initiative to protect the kids but she ultimately ends up failing, for reasons I’ll take about in the next post.

I think I’ll stop here but this ain’t the last post! I’m very excited to continue with this au.

#scooby doo mystery incorporated #sdmi #scooby doo #ricky owens #cassidy williams #brad chiles #judy reeves #fred jones #daphne blake #velma dinkley #norville shaggy rogers #sdmi au #mayor jones #fred jones sr. #janet nettles #sheriff bronson stone #George avocados #George avocados slander sorry #professor pericles

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Wanted to get a bit further on in the story in this chapter, but it was already over 4k words and I hit a decent stopping point.

So here we are.

Chapter six, my people.

OPLA!Mihawk x OC

Previous Chapter Link

Chapter 1 Link

Next Chapter Link

Chapter 6: Secrets and Lies

Word Count: 4.4k

Tags: Slow-burn, Enemies to Lovers, eventually NSFW, uh, if I think of more I'll add them or something

After having her sloop sunk by the Buggy Pirates and losing most of her worldly possessions in the process, the normally solitary mercenary Karimi Lionne finds herself teaming up with the rag-tag little crew that is the Strawhat Pirates to defeat them. She bonds with them far more quickly than she bargained for, and that quickly turns into a problem for the Kiku Kiku no Mi devil fruit user when she learns of Nami's plans to leave them high and dry, and Zoro issues a challenge at Baratie that he very likely won't live long enough to regret.

Karimi had hardly expected to find herself back in Syrup Village so soon. With everything that had happened over the past forty-eight hours it honestly seemed like it had been longer, like it hadn’t been only a day prior that she had set out aboard the Going Merry with the others for the first time. It was more than a little overwhelming.

Mihawk of course commanded her to get his boat docked, while he paid the docking fee and spoke with the highly intimidated harbormaster about the local businesses—mainly, of course, where he might find an inn or a tavern on the sleepy little island. It was more than clear that even in this relatively calm part of the East Blue, his reputation preceded him. Karimi took a moment to scan the wall of bounty posters near the docks. She always checked, in any new town, any new port.

Tilting the brim of her tricorne down to shield her eyes from the midday sun, she caught sight of the one she was looking for, quite high on the wall, a face that always seemed so strange to look at—lightly freckled, framed with dark blonde hair easily as thick and unruly as her own, a short dark goatee covering the man’s chin.

It was a face she might not even know if not for his picture on the poster. It had been two decades since she had last seen him. Years had passed since anyone had heard hide or hair of him, and his bounty was still active. Active, unchanged, still sitting at two billion, two hundred and forty-two thousand berries.

She breathed a slow sigh as she squinted up at the poster. Had he ever been captured by the Marines, his poster would have been taken down—and considering how high his bounty was, it would have been all over the newspapers, likely on the front page. No one, neither outlaw nor government, knew what had happened to him.

“Looking for someone in particular?”

Mihawk watched how she jumped when he spoke up from behind her, crossing his arms over his chest as she glanced back over her shoulder at him.

“No,” she said shortly. Clearly a lie—her gaze had been focused intently upon the posters high on the wall, no doubt on a specific one. He glanced up in that direction himself, where some of the highest bounties were listed—Edward “Whitebeard” Newgate, Marco, Red-haired Shanks, Dragon, “Quickshot” Janx, Hercinia “Firebird” Wren. Her eyes had been fixed somewhere amid that group of posters.

“Are we set?”

He trained his gaze back down to her as she adjusted her satchel on her shoulder.

“Yes,” he said after a moment. Uncertain whether he was more irritated or intrigued by the girl’s persistent penchant for secrecy, he turned away from her and started in the direction the harbormaster had advised him to head. “We should find an inn near the shipyard that will be suitable. I was told to head in the direction of the mansion.”

“Could just stay in the mansion.” He rolled his eyes over to her, and she shrugged, giving a little smirk. “I’m friends with the owner.”

“Are you capable of being anything but facetious?”

“Who said I was being facetious?” she said, lifting her eyebrows. “I could walk up to the front gates and be provided my own entire wing right this moment. Bet.”

It was impossible to tell whether she was being serious or not; Mihawk wasn’t certain of precisely how long she and the Strawhat’s crew had been in Syrup Village before leaving, and it had been difficult to tell just how much of her drunken friend’s rambling at Baratie had been truth and how much had been storytelling. The boy had mentioned Syrup Village as his home no more than in passing, had claimed to be the son of a famous pirate, and had referred to himself as the captain in the same breath he had called Monkey D. Luffy his “actual captain.”

The warlord bit the bullet after a moment and asked her outright, “And precisely how do you know the owner of this mansion?”

“Helped save her life. She had this butler who—”

“Karimi? Is that you?”

Karimi stopped mid-sentence at the sound of a feminine voice addressing her from behind them, turning around on her heel, her smirk only growing. She leaned to the side a bit as Mihawk stopped and looked over his own shoulder, and muttered, “Told you so.”

And then, leaving the warlord a bit baffled, Karimi hurried the short distance toward the young lady that had addressed her—a girl with pale blonde hair and a white dress, around her own age or a bit younger,  rather frail in stature and pale in complexion. “Kaya! I was just talking about you, how are you doing?”

“Oh—heavens, I—” The girl laughed, wrapping her in a tight hug, which Karimi returned briefly with one arm before stepping back. “I’m still well, I—you’re back so soon, are the others—is Usopp—?”

“All fine,” Karimi assured her—not entirely true considering the state in which Mihawk had left Zoro, but Karimi lied with all the flair of a seasoned politician. Mihawk took immediate note of that. “We found this restaurant after we left, Baratie? It’s aboard a ship just docked in the middle of the ocean, it’s brilliant. I got an offer for a new contract while we were there. Couldn’t turn it down.”

“O—oh, of course,” said Kaya, smiling. “You did mention you weren’t planning on staying with them permanently. It just seems so…” She glanced briefly at Mihawk as he leaned to the side against the wooden wall of a storefront on the street, arms crossed, waiting for the reunion to conclude. “Er…so…who’s your friend?” she asked with a small, nervous chuckle.

Karimi forced a wry smile. “Not a friend,” she said curtly. “New contract, like I said.” And that wry smile turned into a smirk, as she added, giving Kaya a wink and a light nudge with her elbow, “He needed a body guard.”

As the girls both laughed at the joke, Karimi glancing back at him as if daring him to do something about it in so public a setting, Mihawk was beginning to wonder if the girl did have a legitimate death wish. He remained silent, glaring in return as she turned her attention back to Kaya.

“No,” Karimi said as their laughter subsided into a few chuckles, “in all seriousness—just, ah, had some business with the Marines anchored near town. We still need to draw up an official contract, and it seemed it would be easier and more comfortable to do so in port than at sea. Inn or a private tavern parlor.”

“There’s no need for that,” said Kaya. “You’re more than welcome to stay the night at the mansion, you know that.”

“Well, I didn’t really want to impose or—”

“Stop that,” said Kaya, shoving at her arm a little and chuckling. “After what you all did for me—I told you you’re welcome any time, and I meant it. Please,” she added, smiling warmly. “I insist.”

Karimi sighed a little, but smiled herself. “Well, if you insist,” she said. She turned to the side, glancing toward Mihawk. “I suppose introductions are in order, then.” She gestured a hand toward Kaya. “Kaya, local heiress, owner of the shipyard just down the way, aspiring doctor—”

“Oh, would you stop,” said Kaya, shoving at her arm and laughing, “I haven’t even begun studying yet.”

“You’ll do fine,” said Karimi dismissively. Then she turned to Kaya, and gestured toward Mihawk. “And, er. Dracule Mihawk. Warlord.”

The laughter faded from the young woman’s face immediately, her eyes growing wide as saucers as she glanced at him and looked back at Karimi.

Then she took a quick step forward after a moment, cupping her hands around Karimi’s ear and whispering something, glancing at him again before training her gaze back onto Karimi’s. The green-haired girl just gave a sort of noncommittal shrug. Then Kaya was whispering again, and Karimi gave a short laugh. She leaned closer herself and muttered under her breath—though just loud enough for Mihawk to hear—“Yeah, maybe if he wasn’t such an asshole—ow,” she added, when Kaya hit her across the arm.

As Karimi rubbed at her arm, Kaya turned to face the warlord directly, drawing in a deep breath, and with it perhaps every bit of resolve she could fit within her small frame, and offered a pleasant smile. “I do apologize for my friend’s rudeness, sir. I’m sure she just thinks she’s being funny. I would be more than honored to have you both as guests at my estate. I’m sure you would find it far more accommodating to your needs than the inn.”

It came as a bit of a shock that Karimi hadn’t simply been blowing smoke—the formal air about the frail girl was clear indication that she had been raised into money and powerful influence, even if said influence only extended across the small village where they presently found themselves. He glanced at Karimi, rolled his eyes at her grin, and turned his attention back to Kaya.

A mansion did sound far more comfortable an option.

“I appreciate your offer, Miss Kaya,” he said after a moment, curtly. “And I accept it. We will be departing tomorrow morning, no later than first light.”

“Well, you are both welcome to stay as long as you need,” she said pleasantly, bowing her head politely.

Mihawk lingered behind the girls as Kaya led the way to the mansion, listening to their conversation while they passed by the vast shipyard.

“Are you still planning on selling?” asked Karimi. “I was hoping I might be able to buy my next sloop from you.”

“Well…it does provide a good source of income at the present,” said Kaya, glancing across at the shipyard. “I do intend to sell eventually, but likely not until after I’ve finished my studies. I’m sure you’ll have saved more than enough before then. And I have no intention of charging you full price.”

“Ah, no handouts. I pay in full or I don’t buy one at all.” Kaya pursed her lips, rolling her eyes at her. “I can and will take my business elsewhere.”

“You’re more stubborn than a bull.” Karimi shrugged a shoulder and nodded in general agreement, and Kaya laughed at that. “Fine. Full price. But I’m sure you’ll have no trouble coming up with the berries.”

She just shrugged again—Karimi had no intention of telling Kaya the nature of her present contract, that she would be working an entire year without pay for the sole sake of ensuring that one of their mutual acquaintances was allowed to continue breathing. Perhaps it was better to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“So.” Karimi smiled as she rolled her eyes over to Kaya. “How have you been faring since the, ah, firing of your most esteemed butler?”

Kaya rolled her eyes at the question, but she chuckled a little. “It’s only been a day,” she reminded Karmi—and the reminder nearly blindsided her again. It still felt like far longer than a single day. “Some of the workers from the shipyard have been kind enough to help around the mansion. I do intend to become more self-sufficient, so I’m helping as much as I can.”

“You should be taking it easy,” said Karimi, frowning. “The bastard was poisoning you for years, you need time to recover.”

“I am taking it easy,” said Kaya lightly, folding her hands together in front of her. “But I also spent far too long confined to constant bed rest, and I would much rather take an active role in my own life now.”

“Fair enough, then.” Karimi smiled at that—a genuine smile, one that she couldn’t hold back. “And more power to you.”

Kaya was another example of Luffy’s influence. For all the years the girl had spent suppressed, that she had spent both literally and figuratively poisoned by the will of another, she was following her dreams now. One brief day of knowing Luffy, and her life was that much better for it. Her life was her own now, freed from suppression, free to follow whatever path she wanted.

There was no question in Karimi’s mind—that kid was going places.

“Your butler was poising you?” Both the girls gave a slight jolt at the question, as if they had forgotten entirely about the warlord following after them, listening to their conversation as they made their way toward the mansion. Karimi glanced back at him, and rolled her eyes at his brief, snide smirk, the same sort of smirk she had directed toward him several times over.

Kaya glanced at her, and then back toward him. “It’s…honestly quite a long story,” she said offhandedly.

“I think we all have time for it.”

She glanced at Karimi, who just shrugged a shoulder. Kaya gave a slow sigh, and slowed her pace for a moment until she was walking level with him. “My parents took in a man and a couple of his friends who claimed to have been marooned here. Hired them onto our staff and…they both passed just over a year later in an accident.” She drew in a slow, deep breath before going on. “My father trusted him implicitly enough to employ him as our butler, and…his trust turned out to be ill-placed. As I discovered only two nights ago.” She lowered her gaze to her feet as they walked. “He was pirate. Or he had been a pirate, and didn’t want to be anymore. He and a couple of his crewmates spent three years poisoning me. Keeping me weak so that no one would suspect anything when I died shortly after my eighteenth birthday and allowed him to inherit my family’s fortune for his own. I would be out of the picture, and he would be looked upon with both pity and admiration for having spent so long caring for me.”

“That…is certainly quite the plan,” said Mihawk quietly—it was difficult not to be impressed by it.

“They didn’t call him Kuro of A Thousand Plans for no reason,” said Karimi, turning around to walk backwards ahead of them as Mihawk’s brow furrowed. He had heard of Kuro—heard that the captain of the Black Cat pirates had been captured years ago. “Seems he somehow managed to fake his death. Made it look like Captain Axe-Hand Morgan took him in. Gave him the freedom to fly under the radar.”

“And I suppose he’s truly dead now?”

“Hard to say.” Karimi gave a shrug. “Luffy gum-gum-belled him through a window on the top floor before anyone could check for a pulse.”

“He…” For a moment, the warlord could do nothing but stare at the girl as if she were speaking in tongues—and she may as well have been. “He did what, exactly?”

“Oh,” she said, grinning, laughing a little, “he stretched his neck out around ten, fifteen feet behind him and then just slammed his head into Kuro’s. Sent him flying through the window. Probably halfway across the East Blue, from the force of it.”

“It was quite the spectacle,” said Kaya, chuckling a little herself.

“It was amazing is what it was. How he didn’t have a headache after that…” Karimi seemed to notice how Mihawk glanced between the two girls, discussing this apparent spectacle as if it were perfectly normal. It could mean only one thing—and Karimi confirmed it only a moment later as her grin widened. “Oh—did your Vice Admiral not mention that? Luffy’s a devil fruit user. Ate one when he was a kid. Made him stretchy.”

Stretchy.

“How…interesting.”

And more than a bit infuriating. Not only had Garp sent him to retrieve his grandson, a boy whose career as a pirate had barely even begun; but the old bastard had also neglected to mention the fact that said boy was a devil fruit user, a fact that would have been valuable to know had Mihawk actually decided to bring him in.

“Er…a Vice Admiral?” Karimi looked over at Kaya when she spoke up uncertainly. “Is…the marine ship anchored off the shore, were they…going after you all?”

“Y…yes,” she admitted, and shrugged a shoulder. “Luffy, more specifically. Evidently Garp has some personal issues with his grandson being a pirate.” Kaya’s eyes widened, a hand flying to her mouth. “But everyone’s fine. Luffy turned himself into a balloon and deflected the cannonball he threw at the ship. That’s why they’re still moored there, I would have to guess. Did a fair bit of damage. We escaped into a fogbank, ended up finding Baratie a few hours later. No harm done.”

Karimi had no intention at all of mentioning that one of their number was on the edge of death when she left them. Kaya was a sweet girl, and she had endured enough trauma of her own over the past few days without having anything else to worry herself over. So for the remainder of their stroll to the mansion, she drew Kaya’s attention away from the troubling news that the small crew was being pursued by a well-known Marine Vice Admiral by telling her about their time at Baratie—the flirty waiter that had shot his shot with both herself and Nami; Luffy ordering one of everything from the menu and then attempting to “put it on his treasure tab,” thus getting roped into washing dishes as compensation instead; Usopp drinking far too much over far too short a period of time and entertaining his fellow bar patrons with his ridiculous stories.

Leaving out the fact that Nami was planning on leaving, and that Karimi herself was now essentially a servant to Zoro’s would-be murderer.

“So…he seems happy, then?” she asked with a smile, walking level with Karimi as they reached the open gates of the mansion. “Usopp. He doesn’t regret leaving?”

“Oh, he’s having the time of his life,” Karimi assured her. “Honestly. It’s going to be a lot harder to tell which of his stories are just tall tales the next time you see him.”

She chuckled at that. “I’m glad to hear it. You’ve all only been away a day and you’ve already done so much, I’m sure he’ll have more stories than he knows what to do with before long.”

“Without a doubt. And it definitely doesn’t take long. I’ve been sailing eight years, but I probably could have written a book within the first two.”

Eight years. That caught Mihawk’s attention as they were greeted at the door by some of the help. Barely an hour ago had the girl claimed to have been working as a mercenary for six years. Either she had just been caught in a lie, or she had been doing something else for two years prior. There would be plenty of time to question her later, of course—and there would be plenty of questions.

But there was one more pressing matter that needed to be addressed first. He already knew Karimi would be of some degree of use to the end of reconnaissance, given her powers; but if she would be taking on contracts given to him by the World Government, he had to be sure that her six years of experience included some degree of aptitude in combat. Anyone could carry around an ornate pair of daggers and strap a belt of throwing knives to their calf.

Using them effectively was another story.

On inquiry about where they might be able to spar—which visibly piqued Karimi’s interest, her eyes widening and brow shooting up toward her dark green fringe—Kaya informed him that they were more than welcome to use the western courtyard. It was large enough, fairly empty of obstacles, and they would have more light as the sun sank down further in the sky.

As promised, the sprawling courtyard was more than large enough. There was a large marble fountain at its center, a few flowerbeds and benches around the perimeter, but otherwise clear enough. Stopping just short of the fountain, around ten feet from the warlord, Karimi set to stretching her arms back behind her and over her head. She paused when he pulled the cross from around his neck and unsheathed his knife, tucking the small scabbard and cord into a pocket in his coat. She tilted her head for a moment, lifting an eyebrow.

“Cute paring knife,” she commented, resuming stretching. “Are we sparring or peeling potatoes?”

Of course she had something smart to say—it seemed she always did. “This,” said Mihawk, extending the small blade out at arm’s length, “will be more than sufficient to assess your ability in combat.” Then, as she drew her daggers and spun them around, assuming a posture that favored offense over defense, “Or lack thereof.”

She rolled her eyes at that. “Just sparring or fighting to maim?”

“Both.”

She smirked at his curt reply. “Excellent.”

He held up a hand the second she started to move, and she paused on one foot, lifting her eyebrows. “Your Armament Haki. How proficient are you?”

“At the present I can really only use it to keep my Devil Fruit abilities in check,” she said, shifting back into a fighting stance again.

“Then you will be training to gain better control over it,” he said, “but that will come later. Right now, you will attempt to break through my defense, using any skill at your disposal. Understood?”

“Understood,” she said, waiting, her gaze shifting from his eyes and down to his knife.

“Then you will begin on three.”

Karimi knew she stood absolutely no chance of defeating him. The times she had sparred with Shanks while on his crew, even with him going relatively easy on her, she had never once beaten him—and Mihawk was renowned as an even greater swordsman. His physical strength exceeded hers by miles. Even if he only responded to her attacks defensively, even if he wouldn’t be using Haki himself, even if she lowered hers and let her Devil Fruit abilities help guide her actions, she stood no chance. He only wanted to see how long she could endure, how much damage she could inflict, if any.

“Two—”

And she went on two.

She was sure she saw the swordsman smirk for just a moment as he countered her right blade—and her left just as quickly when she swung it around toward his ribcage, stepping to the side effortlessly when she lowered down and swung a kick toward his ankles.

“I see you don’t fight fair,” he commented, a hint of amusement in the accusation.

“Everything’s fair in a fight.”

So many times had Karimi heard that exact sentiment amid her training with her grandmother, usually before she inevitably ended up flat on her back in their backyard. It had been imbued into her—the likelihood of her enemies fighting fair was slim to none, so it made no sense for her to extend them the courtesy. It didn’t matter either way, where Mihawk was concerned; his defense was ironclad, and just as it had been with her grandmother, her Devil Fruit was essentially useless combating someone with as much experience and skill as the warlord. His counters and movements came with little to no thought at all, finessed to the point that he barely needed to think at all, acting on pure reflex.

Karimi normally prided herself in her agility, but her limits were only human. His seemed to far exceed that.

To him, she was barely more than an annoying fly that he need only swat away once he grew tired of her persistence.

And thus he did after a few minutes, countering one of her daggers with enough force to send her skidding back across the grass. Before she even stopped or straightened her posture, she drew one of her throwing knives and aimed it low toward his legs.

And he caught it by its hilt in midair, flipping it back over his shoulder, where it landed several feet behind him and embedded into the grass and dirt.

Once more, he extended his arm, pointing the knife out toward her, his other arm remaining at his side.

“Again.”

And again, and again, and again. Karimi at least had her patience on her side—growing frustrated would do nothing but make her clumsy, make her attacks less precise and her movements less finessed. Still, physical exhaustion would inevitably have the same effect, and it came far sooner than it usually did. She hadn’t eaten since the previous evening and had spent the vast majority of the night consuming enough alcohol to stock a small pub, after all; she was likely bordering on dehydration.

A poorly timed block on her own part left her with a cut across her left cheek, left her pinned to the wall of the mansion with one of his arms across her collarbone. The point of his small blade was poised the center of her throat, her chest rising and falling heavily and her heart pounding, the cut across her cheek stinging as sweat dripped down from her temple and into the open wound.

By the position of the sun in the sky, no more than an hour had passed. She swore under her breath at that, sitting down heavily against the wall when he took a step back.

“Again.”

“Oh, goddammit.” She laughed breathlessly, shaking her head as she tilted it back against the wall. “I’m just about spent.”

“I will decide when we’re finished.”

Of course he would. Karimi grimaced as she pulled herself to her feet, as he crossed the yard and pulled her throwing knife out of the ground, tossing over so it landed at her feet.

“Now, then…”

And once more, he extended his knife, waiting for her to collect herself, his sharp yellow eyes glued to her.

“Again.”

Next chapter link again, for your convenience

#opla #one piece #dracule mihawk #mihawk #mihawk opla #mihawk one piece #one piece fanfiction #opla fanfiction #mihawk x oc

[snek-panini]

It's been a few weeks since I had new books to share, but I finally got photos taken of the newest ones so today's the day. Here, have a book:

This is Across Tides and Currents, a Good Omens siren AU by Sodium_Azide and @doorwaytoparadise (hi. I hope I tagged you right). My favorite thing about this AU is that, at its heart, it's about learning to communicate with someone who is so different from you that you can't even physically speak each other's language, and yet you've still got so much common ground that you find a way. It's way lighter and more fun than that description makes it sound, though, so go read it if that's your thing.

The cover on this is Lineco book cloth, scrapbook paper printed to look like leather, and blue foil htv. The foil was actually a nightmare to do. The first time I applied it, it wouldn't stick no matter what I did, and the bits that did stick peeled off as soon as I touched them. I had to peel them up very carefully, cut a new image, and try again. Thankfully it worked the second time but I don't know that I'll be using the foil type again unless there's no other way to get the color I want. The non-foil metallic was so much easier to work with.

More book photos under the cut!

I went with a coptic bind for this one for a few reasons. The first was that I wanted to try one on a quarto-size book to see if I could. I also wanted to try the mitered corners thing I did when I bound Strange Moons, and see if I could have the same effect on the interior. (That bit didn't work out so well; the front is fine but I mismeasured the inside and the lines didn't match up, so I trimmed some pieces of cardstock to cover that up. I really like the layered look though, so that's fine. It's quirky.) The third reason is that not long before I decided to bind this one, the authors published a new chapter after two years of no updates. That's the best possible reason to have to change plans, and the glueless bind means that if they ever do that again I can just redo the stitching to add more pages. Win-win.

Getting whimsical with title pages here. This took way longer than I thought it would, probably because I don't like graphic design and I did it in Word where I do the rest of my typesetting. Usually what I do is grab an image and put text around it or on top of it and then just play with fonts and sizes, but this time I drew the lines and then made the text follow them. This is the first time I've used the word art feature since...probably 2009? I'd forgotten how. I have no doubt there are better ways to do this but if I'd had to learn a new program at that point I'd have quit. And I do think it was worth it--it's cute and fun and looks about how I imagined it.

Couple of photos of the inside. Sorry the first one's blurry, I had someone trying to get my attention when I took these. The section break image came from rawpixel, I just made it gray instead of black so it's more subtle. The fic has very nice illustrations that I specifically got the artist's permission to print and then I failed to get any photos of them when I did my little photo shoot. They look very nice, though. I swear.

The last image is something I've started including in my latest books. I'm calling them "A Note from the Bookbinder" and it's basically just me talking about why I chose that story, the experience of reading it for the first time, stuff that's going on in the fandom, stuff about the process like the new chapter coming out as I was preparing to print. It's kind of...like marginalia? Part of fanbinding is preservation and that's linked to archival work, and something I know archivists love is marginalia and diaries. I don't like writing in my books and I've never found any fun in journaling, but sometimes that kind of context is important so I'm trying to add it. Someday, decades from now, I may not remember all the details, so I'm trying to preserve them. IDK, this got philosophical on me. Go read about mermaids now. Promise it's a good time.

#bookbinding #fanbinding #snek makes books #good omens #fic rec #i wanted to do this as a mermay project #that did not happen #i finished it in october #happy mertober

[something-pithy]

Heyo, glittercats and kittens! So chapters 6 and 7 of an echo, a stain are up! And starting this week, I'm going to start including story notes along with the link.

I'm a note writer lol. Part of how I even begin to keep track of all the wildness of writing something longer than a grocery list is to write about it before I start writing it, if that makes sense lol. Character sketches, ideas about why certain things are happening, backstory, setting details, etc.

I'm pretty verbal about my writing process because -- well,  I like writing about writing a lot, and also, I think it improves both the work and how I get there. Anything might end up here -- character sketches, ideas about why certain things are happening, backstory, setting details, etc. I don't really wanna be leaving like eighteen thousand words of notes on every chapter, so here we are!

Sometimes I think they might add some interesting context for readers, sometimes it's information that I think is important but it's too much for the notes section on the story itself, and sometimes it's just so I have a document of my progress for this story. So here are my notes for chapter 7! ---

Chapter 7's title is from "Come to Me" by Bjork, which is definitely one of my Astarion / Tav falling in love themes for when I'm up in these flashbacks, back before Astarion Ascended (and he still had a soul loool).

The notes from previous chapters had promised a Shadowheart & Tav conversation in this chapter. This is not the Shadowheart & Tav chapter I promised, but it is the one that continued to demand to be written until I capitulated. 

And also, honestly, the one that's going to benefit that other chapter that was supposed to be 7 and the story as a whole in the long run, so I hope you like it! 

I was getting really stuck with my original plan, and so I just started writing -- well, this. And the chapter after this. And possibly the one after that. Loooool there is a LOT going on at this point in these kids' lives.

The original plan is still 100% happening, but I think I needed to 

1. explore the foundations of who these people have become (by these people of course I mean Tav and Astarion, but also friendship is magic, so our beautiful OG friendgroup babies) 

2. what the relationships between them look like and 

3. some clues, at least, as to how they got there. 

(tl;dr we're purposefully time-jumping, and I'm having fun with it, so I hope you will, too!)

But never fear, Shadowheart and Tav will of course be chatting when we return to the story's present. And it won't be in just one chapter.

OR

hey y'all, we're gonna be doing some purposeful (and hopefully at least coherently executed) flashing back and jumping forward (or up! or laterally! OR WHATEVER) in/on/around this story's timeline!

Final note, but an important one, on Tav's identity: 

I tried to keep Tav ambiguous for the first few chapters because I know that sometimes a really detailed and specific-looking or backstoried Tav can make people disengage from the story because they don't relate to the identifying details provided. (also, it's me, I'm people, or at least one of the people lol)

But at the end of the day, as soon as I started even thinking about writing a BG3 fic, I started really digging into and developing this Tav, who does reflect the dialogue, action, and relationship choices I've made in my current playthrough of the game with her, yes. But in having spent / continuing to spend some time thinking and writing about who this Tav is.  I'm not going to lay them all out here, but I think when you want to play in a sandbox as fucking ginormous and intricately, infinitesimally detailed as Faerun / The Forgotten Realms / DnD,  a little story/character-relevant contextual frontloading can help readers have as much fun with it as the writer does. 

Also, and I'm just going to say it, Tav is a queer, first-generation Baldurian child of two immigrants. She's the Faerun / Baldur's Gate equivalent of a BIPOC, with parents who were born in places very different both from Baldur's Gate and each other's home cities / kingdoms. Also, she's mixed-heritage elf (sun, moon, sea -- yeah, I'm that guy, come at me bro loooool). All this context is key to who Tav is as a person, as a creator, as an adventurer, and just in general.

I want anyone to be able to read Tav and be able to understand who she is, if not be able to relate to some small part of her -- but in my mind, people like Tav are essential to the story of a place like Baldur's Gate, and I really enjoy exploring what that looks like.

I'm having fun with it, so I hope you will, too!

#ascended astarion #astarion fic #astarion x tav #bg3 fic #bard!tav #slow burn #redemption arc: now nontoxic! ... i think? #manipulative astarion #yandere astarion #tav's insight proficiency tho #banter #the companion gang is there too #how do i even tag this

[authorsadiethatcher]

I love summer, but May is my favorite month. Why? Because it's my birthday month. And I chose the picture to go along with this month's State of the Thatcher Address because my favorite color is blue. If you've paid attention to my covers, you've probably noticed that. There's a lot of blue outfits.

April was filled with family obligations, travel, and some medical stuff. I still got lots of writing done, for both of my pen names, but it was not just a work month for me. May will definitely have more words get written as I have deadlines approaching.

I'll talk about May's writing a little further down, but this month should be a good one. And the current weather forecast has the rain giving way to warm temperatures and sun just in time for my birthday. I can't complain about that.

A quick reminder that you can find my books on Amazon, Smashwords, Google Play Books, Apple Books, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Everand. You can also read everything I’ve published under my Sadie Thatcher name since last May on Ream, which is a subscription platform built specifically for authors. You can check out my Ream page below.

Ream: https://reamstories.com/sadiethatcher

And speaking of Ream, I have a Ream exclusive novel called The Muse (extreme dollification) that is now complete. I’ve made the first three chapters available for free. All you have to do is sign up as a follower at the link above to get a taste of my first real story that is too extreme for Amazon.

I also post the occasional bit of flash fiction for followers on Ream. I have one up already and plan to post another one this week. As soon as I'm inspired, I'll add a new mini-story to Ream.

On the Libby Feron front, my fantasy writing is going decently well. I'm working on a series of novellas or short novels that was initially inspired by the pirate attack on Port Royal in the Pirates of the Caribbean movie. But on top of that, I'm also got an idea for a time travel fantasy novel percolating in my head. More on that another time. However, since I don’t talk about my fantasy writing often, checking out https://libbyferon.com/ and signing up for the email newsletter is the best way to stay informed. At some point, there will be a free novella offered.

Now it’s time to talk about what to expect this month. First, I've already released the first book in the His Dreams Series. This is the first time I've written specifically from the male perspective for an entire story. The entire series will be like this.

I also have one last book left in The Secret Series. I plan to finish writing it today and will be submitting it for publishing May 3.

And then there's the new content. I have two new series that will begin to appear in the middle and then the latter part of the month. First is an alien hucow story. A town will be taken over by aliens and the population turned into livestock for the aliens. I'm not sure of all the details yet, but I'm excited to write it.

Finally, there's a series idea I've had for a while that I'm looking forward to. It's been documented that if a male dominated workplace has a single woman, nothing will really change. Instead, the woman is far more likely to conform to the male points of view, playing along so that she can be one of the boys. While the reality of that is unfortunate, it makes for a good setup for a bimbo story, which I'm calling Tokenized, at least for now. All titles and ideas are subject to change with my whims and muse.

So that about does it. You can also hopefully expect a fantasy novella from me as Libby Feron at the end of the month called A Throne of Bones. What a month this will be.

#sadie thatcher #writing #buildingbettergiggles #story #state of the thatcher address

[babbybones]

Oekaki updatez...

Monster Kidz Oekaki is still up and i'd like to keep it that way, but i need to give it some more attention and keep people updated on what's going on/what my plans are for it. so let me jot some thoughts down...

data scraping for machine learning: this has been a concern for a lot of artists as of late, so I've added a robots.txt file and an ai.txt file (as per the opt-out standard proposed by Spawning.ai) to the site in an effort to keep out as many web crawlers for AI as possible. the site will still be indexed by search engines and the Internet Archive. as an additional measure, later tonight I'll try adding "noai", "noimageai", and "noml" HTML meta tags to the site (this would probably be quick and easy to do but i'm soooo sleepy 🛌)

enabling uploads: right now, most users can only post art by drawing in one of the oekaki applets in the browser. i've already given this some thought for a while now, but it seems like artist-oriented spaces online have been dwindling lately, so i'd like to give upload privileges to anyone who's already made a drawing on the oekaki and make a google form for those who haven't (just to confirm who you are/that you won't use the feature maliciously). i would probably set some ground rules like "don't spam uploads"

rules: i'd like to make the rules a little less anal. like, ok, it's no skin off my ass if some kid draws freddy fazbear even though i hope scott cawthon's whole empire explodes. i should also add rules pertaining to uploads, which means i'm probably going to have to address AI generated content. on one hand i hate how, say, deviantart's front page is loaded with bland, tacky, "trending on artstation"-ass AI generated shit (among other issues i have with the medium) but on the other hand i have no interest in trying to interrogate someone about whether they're a Real Artist or scream at someone with the rage of 1,000 scorned concept artists for referencing an AI generated image someone else posted, or something. so i'm not sure how to tackle this tastefully

"Branding": i'm wondering if i should present this as less of a UTDR Oekaki and more of a General Purpose Oekaki with a monster theming. functionally, there wouldn't be much of a difference, but maybe the oekaki could have its own mascot

fun stuff: is having a poll sort of "obsolete" now because of tumblr polls, or should I keep it...? i'd also like to come up with ideas for Things To Do like weekly/monthly art prompts, or maybe games/events like a splatfest/artfight type thing. if you have any ideas of your own, let me know

boring stuff: i need to figure out how to set up automated backups, so i guess i'll do that sometime soon... i should also update the oekaki software sometime (this is scary because i've made a lot of custom edits to everything)

Money: well this costs money to host so I might put a ko-fi link for donations somewhere... at some point... maybe.......

#text post #oekaki talk