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#for those who read my tags i hope you enjoyed this rant

goodluckclove · 15 days

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I've been meaning to say something. (100 follower hot take)

Hey! Thanks for stopping by. I hope you've had a nice day. Why don't you rest with me for a while? I made some chocolate chip cookies - with shortening instead of butter, so they're very soft and very chocolatey. I made way too many and they aren't my wife's favorite, so I could use some help in eating them.

You're probably a writer, right? Or maybe you think about how you could be. Browse the tags here, or on other social media platforms. Maybe you used to write stories as a kid. I bet those were fun. Teachers might've thought they were impressive, or they dissected them line by line until the words didn't make sense in your head anymore. Either way, if you're here you're probably here for a reason.

(rant alert)

I dipped a toe in online writing communities on and off. My last attempt was forty-five minutes scrolling through the writing hashtag on Youtube Shorts (so TikTok, I guess? I don't know). I didn't like it. I really didn't. The thing that sticks out the strongest in my mind is one particular video where a woman claims that every story needs a second act plot twist.

Huh? Every story? All of them? Why? Since when? Who are you? What qualifications do you have to make a statement like that?

That's the common thread that makes a lot of writing spaces very uncomfortable for me. Successful writers are really only successful in their genre and for the given moment, so they don't have that much objective authority in the craft. And yet I see a lot of people deciding the things that you can't do in writing. Or the things you have to do, and how you have to do them. It was so much of Writeblr at first glance that I almost dipped out once again. I didn't, though, and I'm glad I didn't because now I get to watch some of the next great storytellers from across the world grow and examine and forge their way forward.

No one can teach you how to write. No, that's not true. Teachers teach literacy. Handwriting. Typing maybe - do schools still teach typing? Let me try saying it in a different way - no one, not one single person on this goddamned planet, has the right to tell you how to make a story.

I was supposed to get my MFA in creative writing before my first breakdown. My uncle stayed in the program I was meant to be in, and a few years after I dropped out he graduated. Recently I had the thought to look up his thesis novella, and as I searched I found myself regretting my decision to leave school. If I stayed and got to develop my writing in an actual class, with other writers and a knowledgeable professor, how much further along would I be than where I am right now?

It was bad. His novella was terrible. It was so bad I had a small existential crisis for, like, three days. He spent so much money on years and years of professional education and came out with a truly soulless story that read as if you prompted an AI to write the next Great American Novel. So if you think you need a writing degree to be a legitimate author, it could help connections-wise, but it ultimately won't be the thing that does the work for you.

Not all advice I see online on writing is bad. I find the people who are able to capture the "I" statements of therapy and phrase advice as things that have worked for them, or things that they personally enjoy, to be fine. Some writing advice can spark inspiration.

But if someone is the type of person to boil every story down to troupes and cliches, and then immediately say that every story that uses the trait they don't like is automatically bad for everyone? I'm dropping the kindness for a second - that's trash. That's a trash take and I see far too many writers use it as a reason to stop before they begin.

I don't like whump. I say my reasons in previous posts if you go back through my blog. But you will never hear me say that any story with whump in it is bad, because I don't know that. You might prove me wrong. I am an adult human being and I have the humility to admit that I can like something I didn't expect to. I genuinely enjoy the direction of The Human Centipede (only the first one) and if you cringed just now that probably means you haven't seen it.

There are so many types of books and movies and plays and comics out there. To enjoy a specific genre is fine, to ignore the existence of everything else is a really, really, really odd thing to do. Maybe someone will hate your story because they think everything should be Neil Gaiman, and therefore have no way to understand your epistolary high-Western. You are not the wrong end of that situation just for existing.

And at there is a definite threshold on how many writing tips you can gather before they stop being useful. If you find them interesting, that's one thing. That's fine. But if the culture of creativity online has made you feel like you need to educate yourself on every possible angle before you can write a story, you are actively harming yourself.

Imagine taking the level of structure you put on yourself in that way and putting it on children playing pretend in the backyard. Oh, Susie, don't you know that it's overdone for your Kitsune have dead parents? Xyler, shouldn't you ask someone else before you decide how Spiderman would react to this? It would make no sense and they do not need it. Kids will make a whole world out of nothing and it's the most fucked thing in my heart that at some point they get access to Reddit and dipshits start insisting that's wrong.

They aren't wrong and you aren't either. Your favorite creative influencer can't tell you your story, strangers on the internet can't tell you your story, your teachers and loved ones can't tell you your story. They can influence it, but they can't write it honestly the way you can.

You do that. That's the thing you do.

Man that makes me upset. I can't tell you how to make a story, either. If anyone sends me asks for writing advice the most I'll do is say what I've done before hopping into your DMs and starting a direct conversation. it's so personal to each individual artist, and I'd like to think that the people selling these classes and software and promoting these platforms haven't thought about that before. Otherwise it does feel manipulative. If you have a willingness to practice and imagine and really experiment with the possibilities, you are ready to write your story.

And if it doesn't work? Try again. That's what you do.

Stephen King has written roughly a thousand books and maybe five of them have decent endings. He is unimaginably successful.

I'm rambling now. I think I got that out of my system. I was really worried to say this out of fear of being too weird or somehow reverse-gatekeeping so hard that it circles back into also being a bad thing. I've just spoken to a lot of people who I still think of throughout my day, and I truly ache for them to get past the fear of creation. Because it's worth it. It's worth it and it's fun, even when it's messy and you're tired.

Let it Be just came on. Beatles. I haven't listened to The Beatles in a long time. Feels a little apropos.

I love you, reader. Reader, Writer, Colleague. Take care of yourself. Especially the little you, still sitting there in the backyard of your soul, bathing in the sun with their bare feet in the damp earth.

Consider joining them, maybe.

#writeblr #writing community #writers on tumblr #queer writers #authors of tumblr #on writing #writing #actually writing #writing resources #writing tips #writing help #writing advice #how to write #writing tips and tricks #writers supporting writers

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underground-secret · 5 months

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The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: Sam confronts Y/N on her feelings for his brother.

Warnings: basically none but it is a little angsty. Sam playing cupid. Also Sam might be ooc- sorry

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra ,

@fablesrose , @ada--44

A/N: Hi! To start off thank you so much for all the support recently I’m truly grateful for you all and i’m so happy to say I have people who seem to enjoy my writing. But on the writing note I just wanted to acknowledge a sort of plot hole:

if you have read the series up to now you probably know that it was said Y/N has a job and kept it (just doing it basically on her laptop alone) even when she went with the boys to find their Dad. I did this because I wanted a sense of independence for her as I felt like this made sense, would she drop anything to help them yes but I also don’t think she would be so quick to give up her life since she had her own house and didn’t hunt 24/7. Now as we are a little bit further into the story I don’t think she would have this job anymore but I also don’t know how to write it into the story and i don’t think i want to write a half chapter just on it (tho this might change). So for the sake of the story you can decide why she dosnt have this writing job anymore,for me I see it as she secretly quit after the skin walker hunt because she realized where her focus needed to go and how tiring hunting full time was. I also don’t think she ever brought it up to the boys out of fear of making them feel guilty, tho they probably figured it out and didn’t say anything either.

Anyways sorry for the rant i’ll let you read this now! And Happy thanksgiving to any and all who celebrate

Word Count: 819

A fool in love

(Master list, Previous Ch, Next Ch)

“Here you go” Sam says, placing a cup of tea in front of me having picked up our drinks from some local place as we sat in the library trying to find a new hunt or any clues to where his Dad could be.

He didn’t have a third cup with him, Dean having not joined us deciding instead to go find a “lead” in a bar.

“Thanks” I mumble before bringing the hot drink to my lips.

He sits down in front of me, shuffling in his chair awkwardly. “Are you okay?” I laugh lightly at his odd movements. He clears his throat, “Yeah, I, uh…can we talk?”

“Of course” I smiled at him, my eyebrows scrunched together slightly.

“Promise you won’t get annoyed” He starts off. I laugh, “Okay? But I don’t know if I can exactly promise anything when I don’t know what you’re gonna say.”

“Just…promise” He held out his pinky to me, something he knew I took very seriously. I smile harder, linking my pinky with his, the very sacred promise now in effect. He studies my face carefully as if to see if I was really serious even with the pinky promise.

He bites the inside of his cheek going silent for a beat before finally speaking, “Why don’t you just tell Dean you love him?”

“Sam-“ I sigh, not knowing what to say. We’ve had this conversation before, years ago, where it was established that Sam knew my feelings for his brother.

“Why would I confess to someone who doesn't feel the same way?” I finally say.

“But he does!” He practically yells, getting weird looks from those who sat around us- library rules and all that. His face flushes a deep pink with embarrassment, “Why is it so hard for you to believe that someone loves you, that he loves you?

“Look where he is right now, at a bar probably getting some girl's number or even leaving with her to hook up. He clearly doesn't feel the same for me as I do him.” I explained, a little frustrated. He doesn't say anything for a while again, “I think he does that to avoid his feelings for you.”

“Yes you think but you do not know and I…” I sigh, “I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Don’t you notice the way he stares at you? He couldn’t keep his hands off of you” He points out, referring to the Hook Man case. “That was for a cover” I answer simply.

“There were a lot of times where there wasn’t an excuse for a cover up, like the armchair.” The mere mention of me sitting on Dean's lap makes my face feel hot.

I don’t have anything to counter that, I mean it was just to amplify me being his girlfriend for a cover. That’s what it was.

He becomes all sassy and self assured as he speaks, “See! Deep down you know I'm right, you just don’t wanna admit it. And you know what I noticed?”

“What?” I humor him, making eye contact.

“Every time you get hurt or there’s even a little bit of concern towards you he stops hiding his feelings. It’s like suddenly no other woman exists, only you.

You have to have noticed that at least.”

I bit on my bottom lip in thought, he’s right. I can think of numerous occasions where Dean had ignored very attractive women when I was hurt or in the prospect of danger, exactly as Sam said.

No.

Nope.

Dean Winchester is not in love with me, it isn’t true.

“You know a couple months back” I begin, “I forget which hunt it was. But it was only like a month of being on the road with you guys and through that whole time it hadn’t mattered the circumstance, even when we were in the middle of hunting, or where we were, either way Dean was flirting or hooking up with some girl. And every single time I would feel this…this…pang in my heart or maybe like my heart had dropped into my stomach. Which only made me feel more like a fool.

So it got to a point where I just decided, you know what, I'm gonna force myself. I'm going to pretend that I don’t have feelings for him. That it doesn't pain me to see him like that with other women.

“Did it work?” He asks me, his eyes having a certain solemn look to them.

I sigh for the upteenth time, “No. For some stupid reason I can’t stop loving your brother.” He turns his eyes down towards the table.

I try to catch his eyes, “Do you get what I’m saying?”

He looks back up at me, “Yeah. My brother’s an idiot.”

I choke on my laugh, taking a deep breath before I speak, “Maybe. Or…maybe it just isn’t meant to be.”

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7-wonders · 2 months

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In Waking Hours

Roommate!Calliope & GN!Reader (platonic)

Summary: Calliope's planning to enjoy a nice, quiet evening sitting outside under the moon and enjoying her relative freedom when she sees you still haunted by a particularly brutal nightmare. Plans change, because she's not about to let you face the worst parts of her former husband's realm alone, obviously.

Word count: 3.6k

A note from the author: (You don't have to, but you'll have a lot more backstory if you read To the world we dream about first)

Shitty summary but you have a nightmare and Calliope's like "well this is my emotional support human so I can't not help!" WOW this is the first time I've felt truly inspired when writing in months. S/o Calliope girl hope I'm doing you proud by giving you the stories and love you deserve.

So, I know that this isn't going to get a lot of love since there's no actual Morpheus in this, just mentions which means my normal tags can’t be used, but I love this little fic-verse I've created so much that I have to write it. (All this is to say please show this fic some love if you enjoyed!!!) This isn't romantic, but there are definitely romantic fics in the pipeline. The nice thing about a loose fic-verse is that there are plenty of fics for you to read if you don't want an eventual throuple :)

(But hopefully there will be plenty of fics for you to read if you do want an eventual throuple)

I would be remiss to not shout out the reason this fic-verse exists in the first place and the person that I can talk about any and every random fic idea with, the lovely @ivandra-winters! Thank you, thank you, thank you for everything.

Calliope doesn’t really sleep well anymore.

Not that she needs sleep in general. She’s a goddess, after all, and divine beings such as herself only sleep because they want to, because they feel like indulging in all the wonders available to them upon closing their eyes. Few things truly and regularly excite beings of myth, but the Dreaming is one of those few things. Only very rarely, such as in cases of extreme injury, do they need to sleep. Mostly, sleeping is a comfort, a way to pass the time.

In the early days of her imprisonment, after Erasmus Fry first captured her, Calliope thought that she would use sleep for both. Though her relationship with her husband had ended about as terribly as a relationship can end, the Dreamlord had never reneged on his promise to always give Calliope the sweetest of dreams. She would rest, then, and find a distraction and comfort in the Dreaming until someone, be it her sisters or her mothers or somebody seeking her favor, would save her.

Then, she found out all the terrible things one person can do to another while they’re unconscious.

Even though she’s now safe, the once-familiar action no longer comes easy to her. Almost every time she’s tried—and those have been few and far between—she wakes up in a panic before she can fall asleep enough to even make it to the Dreaming. When she closes her eyes, she sees them once more. Both of them, Fry and Madoc, taking what was never theirs in the first place. She feels their cruel, rough hands on her body, hears their voices demanding that she give them inspiration for their works.

(Works that she wishes would be little more than drivel. But no, nothing inspired—forcefully or not—by her could ever be drivel. They’re wild successes every time, and so the men just continue to take take take until Calliope thinks that she has nothing left to give. But she does, because she is the Muse of Epic Poetry, and for as long as people still believe in her, she shall be a source of inspiration. And so she continues to be drained like a tree of its sap, an essence so integral to her being that she knows not who she is without it. Until one day, when Madoc returns to his home ranting and raving—and there is a knock at the door.)

Calliope’s been doing some reading on the device that you gave her, the one that’s like a digital library, and she believes she might have what today’s humans call Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The inability to sleep, the flashbacks, the ever-present hum of vigilance that still thrums under her skin and warns her that the threat might be just around the corner—it’s all there, and it’s all her. It’s humiliating to think about it as a possibility, and more humiliating still to see herself in the words written.

Goddesses shouldn’t have trauma! They shouldn’t even be in a position where trauma could be inflicted on them! She misses the age when she was at her strongest, the age when people worshipped the very ground she walked on, dropping to their knees in reverence and begging for her gifts.

But that world is long gone, and Calliope has landed in a new one that is entirely foreign to her. Slowly, though, she likes to think that she’s adjusting. Since the night is long and sleeping is not an option for her at present, she finds other ways to pass the hours when the rest of the world rests. The 21st century is new and exciting, and there is much to catch up on.

Not only is she learning more about this new world, but she’s also learning herself all over. There are hobbies that she gets to discover once more, enjoyments that she forgot were hers. She listens to music (music now is…very different from even a hundred years ago, but there have been some works that she enjoys) and reads—not just the books that tell her things about herself that she does not wish to hear, but she reads epics! And poetry! How she missed poetry; that special language so near and dear to her, the words of her most favorite patrons. She reads all that she can get her hands on, good and bad, for the simple pleasure of being able to read once more.

Oftentimes, she simply enjoys the quiet at night. She basks in the knowledge that she can do what she wants, when she wants, with nobody lording over her or imposing their will. Yes, she is still technically bound to a human, but that is a non-issue. Calliope knows with absolute certainty that you have no idea of who she is or what Richard Madoc had done when he declared that she was your problem now.

She likes living with you, though it has been an adjustment being what you call a ‘roommate’ instead of a captive. Whereas the two men (if such brutes can be referred to as men) had been the worst of humanity, she finds humanity endearing when she sees it through your lens. How can she not develop a fondness for you, with how earnestly you try to include her in your life and make her feel like she belongs?

There is also some level of comfort to be gained from the blissful ignorance you live in, the way that you believe your world to be black-and-white with no potential of the things you were taught to be nothing more than myths and stories. To you, such tales don’t exist—Calliope, the Muse, doesn’t exist—and Calliope, the woman, feels that she is able to let her guard down for the first time in a long, long time.

At times, she can feel your desperation for some sort of inspiration, lost as you attempt to complete your studies. It is comforting to know that you have no idea the being that you now share a home with. It is even more comforting to know that she has the choice of whether to grant you some inspiration or not.

Tonight, Calliope decides for herself once more, and thinks that she would rather like to sit outside on the patio and enjoy the late night. With her mind made up, she sneaks out of her bedroom with a blanket in one hand and a book in the other.

“Oh!” Calliope gasps in surprise, startled upon seeing a figure sitting on the couch.

Moonlight shines through the curtains that were most definitely closed a few short hours ago and illuminates your face staring out at the dark. She relaxes, but her fear immediately shifts to concern upon seeing what look to be tear tracks drying on your face.

“Hey. I’m sorry.” Just as she suspected, your voice is thick with tears. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Do not apologize,” she lightly chastises you. “Are you alright?”

You nod and use your sleeve to wipe under your eyes. “Yeah.”

It’s obvious that you’re planning on leaving it at that, which simply won’t do. Calliope levels you with a stare (a ‘mom stare,’ you teasingly referred to it as the first time she used it, without knowing how true your words were. One day, she thinks, she’ll tell you about Orpheus. Once the pain of losing him stops hurting so much) that you try your hardest to act unaffected by. You sigh after a moment, knowing that the fight is lost.

“I had a nightmare,” you admit. “And like, I’m not a little kid anymore. So why did this nightmare scare me so badly that I literally woke up and jumped out of bed in fear?”

Well, that explains why she heard a noise of surprise from your room, followed by a loud thump. She assumed that you hadn’t yet gone to bed, that you were up late finishing a project or just plain procrastinating your sleep. Why your late night required what sounded like the moving of furniture was beyond her. But no, instead, you’ve found yourself at the whims of a nightmare.

Nightmares are not something that Calliope has a lot of experience with. She’s met nightmares, of course. With how much time she spent in the Dreaming, it was a foregone conclusion that she met a nightmare or two. And when they weren’t performing their duties, a lot of them were really quite nice!

(The only nightmare she truly could not stand was her former husband’s most beloved creation—The Corinthian. He…creeped her out, for lack of a better term. It wasn’t just the ocular mouths, though those were also chill-inducing. Rather, it was his entire demeanor. Like he was simply playing nice, biding his time before he could go in for the kill. She was glad to have never seen him again after the end of her marriage.)

But has Calliope ever actually dealt with a nightmare? The lives of immortals are long (obviously), and while she may have once had nightmares when she was very young, it was so long ago now that she can’t remember any particulars. Even when her own son was young, nightmares were not truly a concern. Though she and Morpheus had mutually agreed that he needed to sleep like a normal child at least sometimes in order to aid in his development, the very first time his little brow creased and frightened whimpers began to well in his throat, that decision was quickly forgotten in favor of comforting the boy and assuring him that nightmares would harm him no longer.

So, while it’s true that she does not have much experience with nightmares, what little experience she has had helps her to know just how frightening they can be—and how frightened it’s made you.

“Would talking about it make you feel better?” Calliope asks.

You shake your head resolutely, determined to keep your fears to your chest. “I don’t remember it anymore.”

For many mortals, dreams and nightmares do not follow them out of the Dreaming. They may remember snippets of it, or certain emotions, but often, they fade away in the few hazy moments after waking. It’s pretty obvious that this isn’t the case for you, however. You continue to hold yourself tense, as though whatever had troubled you while you slept would reappear at any moment. Calliope has also seen you deep in thought a couple of times now, and the way you were looking outside when she first stepped out of her room was the same way she had seen you look when trying to complete schoolwork or focus on making something complicated.

Up until now, you’ve tried so hard to always be positive and to make your home and yourself as comforting as possible so that Calliope may have the best possible environment to heal. She appreciates it—this new life she’s found herself in has truly been conducive to recovery—but now, she struggles to watch you try to keep up this facade so as not to lay your upsets upon her. She wishes that you would, though; that you would feel like you can confide in her the same way that you have made her feel towards you. After all that you’ve done for her, you deserve to feel like you have gained a friendship.

Calliope will let you keep your secrets, then, even though this means that particular avenue of help is closed—she will not force you to do anything that you do not want to do. She moves on to Plan B, into the kitchen where she fumbles around until finding the kettle. Filling it with water, she places it on a burner and turns the stove on. Though she’s still not very confident around newer inventions like kitchen appliances, she’s proud of the fact that she’s slowly learning.

At the sounds, you peek up from the couch. “What are you doing?”

“What you’ve done for me when I find myself particularly upset,” she says, fetching two mugs from the cupboard.

“You’re making me tea?” Your voice sounds strangled, as though you can’t imagine why she would be providing you this small comfort.

You first started making tea for Calliope on the night that she technically became ‘yours.’ After locking herself in the bathroom and scrubbing her skin raw under the stream of hot water until she was sure that every inch of her body was clean from the DNA of another, she spent an interminable amount of time just enjoying the knowledge that she was now safe. While it was true that you were still practically a stranger, she had lived for long enough now and had honed her gifts well enough to be able to get a good read of a person’s intentions.

From the moment that she met you, you held none of the same ill will as the others. No, your immediate concern had been making sure that she was warm. When was the last time somebody cared for how she felt? She watched intently as you grabbed a coat from your vehicle, sure that, at any moment, your intentions toward her would change. Though she didn’t believe that she had the power (both strength and will) to fight you off, she would not be caught off-guard if it came to that.

But it never did. You simply wanted to make sure that she was out of harm’s way. You concluded on your own that whatever had happened to her in that house, at the hands of the man you called your professor, was horrific. To you, Calliope was a woman, battered and scared, with nothing to her name and nowhere to go. It was the obvious option to offer her food and shelter, to ensure her safety, simply because it was the right thing to do.

Still, even after your show of immense kindness, she did not want to face you, for some part of her was waiting for the inevitable. When you would demand the use of her gifts, wanting inspiration and fame and power and riches. She was dreading the potential that you were simply another human wanting to take take take. So she waited until the water ran cold and she was shivering. Even then, it took until she physically could stand the water no longer for her to finally make slow moves to get ready to leave the bathroom. Toweling herself off and putting on the borrowed clothes (clothes that actually covered her skin, so much more than the satin slips that she had been granted by her former captors) could only take so long, so with a heavy sigh, she steeled herself and opened the door.

There was no sign of you, however, and a quick glance at the light from under the closed door of one bedroom indicated that you were inside. The only sign of life that proved that you were once in this space was a plate and a mug sitting on the counter. When Calliope cautiously got closer, she saw a note next to them.

“Made you some dinner and tea. I’ve always been told that tea (or your preferred hot beverage of choice) can do wonders for making you feel better, and I’ve found that to be true a few times now. Sweet dreams!”

Your name was signed at the end, along with what looked like a drawing of a smile.

Aware of the very real possibility that this could be a trap—Fry, after all, had first tried to woo her before taking what he believed to be his by force—she hastily grabbed the ceramicware and made off to the room that you had called hers. She had no real need for food, of course, nor for bathing. But they were those same creature comforts that not even the gods were above, and beyond sporadic, cold baths, they were creature comforts she had been denied for over sixty years. Calliope would take any that she could get, especially when they were (seemingly) freely given. Unfortunately, she was not in a position to spurn such gifts right now.

These gifts kept coming, without an expectation of anything in return from her. She was free to take whatever she wanted, go anywhere she liked, do anything she wished. And you were always there to cheer her on and encourage her, with a smile on your face and (when she wanted it) tea in hand.

“‘Make’ should perhaps be used loosely.” She smiles sheepishly, back in the present as the kettle begins to warm. “Depending on how much of your help I shall need after the water boils.”

You wrap a blanket around yourself and make your way to Calliope. “Then we’ll make it together.”

After the tea has been successfully prepared and you’re both settled back on the couch with a large blanket shared between you, Calliope asks, “Do you have nightmares often?”

“Not like when I was little. I was one of those kids that had night terrors, y’know?” She doesn’t know, because she has never heard of them more beyond being mentioned in passing when she was still wife to Dream of the Endless, but she nods regardless. “Apparently, I would just scream and shake until I ran out of breath and woke myself up.”

“I am so sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. Like most kids with night terrors, I never remembered them.” You take another sip from your mug. “This is good tea, by the way.”

“You are the one that determined when the tea was done steeping.”

“Yeah, but you boiled the water, which is an integral part of tea-making.” You smile at her, the first smile she’s seen from you tonight, and it makes her feel a little better, like she’s doing something right. “So well done.”

You fall quiet, having said what you wanted to say regarding your nightmare and choosing instead to enjoy your tea. Though you’re content with companionable silence, Calliope is not. She feels like she should be doing more to help you, to comfort you. Caring for another, helping someone to feel better, does not come easily to her like it once did. She has been burned for too long now, that caring nature snuffed out early on in her imprisonment. But slowly, like the first blades of grass pushing back through the soil of a blackened landscape after a wildfire, new life has started to grow in the middle of this scorched area of her heart. She wants to help you, to care for you.

She wants to make you feel better.

“My younger sister, Thalia, is far better at this than I,” Calliope admits with a sigh.

“Better at what?”

“At cheering people up.”

Indeed, Thalia did not preside over comedy for no reason. Many times over the years that she’s been unwillingly away from her family, Calliope found herself wishing that Thalia would be right next to her. She loves all of her sisters equally, but Thalia would have effortlessly known what to say or told an anecdote that would have made her imprisonment easier. Perhaps it would have even given her the extra strength needed to truly fight and find a way out.

You bump Calliope’s shoulder with your own. “You’ve done a really good job of that yourself, Cal.”

She feels her chest warm, both at the compliment and the term of endearment. Somewhere along the way, you (and your friends, who are just as kind and welcoming to her as you have been) adopted a nickname for her. This is new for her—prior to her imprisonment, she was Calliope, eldest of the Muses Nine, Beautiful-Voiced, Chief of All Muses. She has always been Calliope. But now, sometimes she is Callie, or Cal. Those who call her this do not know that they are in the presence of a goddess, that she should be commanding the respect that she deserves from mortals who believe her one of them.

Instead, she finds that she loves having a nickname.

“You have…eight sisters, right?” you ask.

“Yes. Thalia is the second youngest.” Calliope has only spoken about her sisters in the most vague of ways, hesitant to reveal too much. Telling you the names of a sister or two certainly won’t hurt.

“It must be so much fun when you’re all together.”

Calliope smiles wistfully, feeling that familiar pang of homesickness. “It is. There are lots of laughs shared, and we all leave with enough stories to last until we see one another again.”

It hits her almost as soon as the words leave her mouth: There is something that she can do to help. She can do what she does best, that which is her chief function. She can tell you a story. Already the words come to her, the tale writing itself within her, nestled right at the hollow of her throat, and just waiting for her to speak it aloud. Her inspiration, her gift, is used on herself for the first time in a long time, and as her mind goes to work, she remembers why it is that she is so coveted. It feels intoxicating to think up a story once more, to be inspired to create. It’s an old feeling, one that was once so familiar to her, that it feels quite like a homecoming for her to be experiencing it once more.

“Have I ever told you of the wager that Thalia and our sister Mel once had?” she asks, baiting you.

You look at her curiously and take said bait. “No.”

Calliope smiles, feeling her power hum within her as, for the first time in a long, long time, she prepares an epic of her own. “Well, it started one summer…”

•••

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eureka-its-zico · 11 days

Text

A Body of Stars

Ongoing series

Synopsis: With a galaxy at war, it’s hard to distinguish the stars from the metal of UNSC ships. You were told about the war that waged between the UNSC and insurrectionists; your planet opposing them since you were born. Your enemy was meant to be the UNSC and the Spartans they created, specifically John-117 - the Master Chief. Except, all isn’t as black and white as you were raised to believe, and the galaxy holds secrets far darker than you could’ve imagined.

Pairing: John - 117 x F!Reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, Halo TV series/Mass Effect mashup

Warnings: mentions of war, violence

Word count: 11.7k

A/N: Alright. As hyper fixations go, the Halo series (and let’s be real, Pablo is a menace) has my ass in a chokehold. That being said, season 2 was amazing and made me want to work on a small fic that blended the series and my love of BioWare’s Mass Effect. Mass Effect is my favorite sci-fi space game about galactic war, friendship, love, sacrifice. I could rant but I won’t. There will be mentions of certain ME things in here, like the reader having biotics, to go along with the lore of the halo series. So, without further ado: its back story time. I hope someone out there enjoys this and as always, thank you for reading 🖤 much love, Jenn

Year: 2521

•Shadow Sea cluster•

•Lera system•

Destination: Laconix

ETA: 13 hours

The Midsummer Night came out of slip space without a hitch.

Not that he’d been worried. It was one of the few things that Captain Jacob Keyes hadn’t worried about during this current mission. What, or rather who, currently worried him was standing less than ten yards from him and came in the form of his ex-wife. He risked a glance where Dr. Catherine Halsey was hunched over with her nose deep inside another holopad.

Those holopads had been one of the many reasons why their marriage fell apart.

There was no doubting the brilliance her work contributed to the scientific field or the war effort. All of her research was the stepping stone humanity needed in terms of augmentation and the human genome. The contributions Halsey and her Spartans made towards this never-ending battle against the covenant saved lives, but, and it was a big but, Jacob knew that Halsey’s methods were questionable, at best. Hell, he’d been a part of those questionable decisions, driving the helm, while she did what she deemed was necessary.

Vital.

So, Jacob Keyes knew without her ever having to say a word that something was off. The Midsummer Night and the Pegasus holding Halsey’s darling Spartain-III’s were meant to go for a routine extraction. Intel indicated one of the leaders in the insurrectionist rebel groups, Kahn Montrello, was located on a planet within the Lera system of the Shadow Sea cluster. It was a typical snatch-and-grab unless they were met with resistance.

Halsey requesting to tag along was more than just a surprise. It was suspicious. Jacob knew Halsey didn’t do anything without purpose.

“Tell me again why you’ve insisted on inserting yourself into a routine mission dealing with insurrectionists?”

Halsey hadn’t even looked up from the damn holopad to acknowledge he’d walked over.

“I’m just here to gather some data while the Silver Team is dispatched to help your marines on the ground.”

Jacob’s boots scuffed against the metal of the bridge as he moved closer to her. His eyes on Catherine’s back - willing her to turn, to acknowledge him - as her gaze held tightly to the readings she’d taken from a tablet from her lab. The data was transferred to the larger scale computer in the bridge’s main console. Halsey’s eyes roaming endlessly through data Jacob himself knew he’d never understand without her help.

“Come on, Catherine. That may be the bullshit you fed Parangosky and the other admirals, but don’t feed me the same lies and expect it to go down smoothly.”

Halsey broke away for the briefest millisecond from whatever data she was reading. Her eyes skimmed over him before returning back to what was more important.

Research in the name of human exploration always was.

“It’s not bullshit. Data collected in the field is highly valuable for furthering my research; proof to Parangosky the Spartan research is worth her continued funding.”

“That’s a nice speech, Catherine, but I know that any collected data during the mission is recorded and sent back to your lab for analysis. So, when are you going to start telling me something honest?”

Honesty.

Asking Halsey to be anything other than secretive was like asking a tiger to get rid of its stripes. Jacob knew even if she told him - really shared - it still wouldn’t be all of the actual information. Key pieces of information - the most valuable - would be forever stored within her; leverage for another day.

Whatever it was she could see on those holopads had her sky blue eyes wide in excitement. Halsey wouldn’t be able to contain it - hide it - for much longer. If the small rise at the corner of her mouth was any indication, all Jacob needed to do was push a little further. Find the right words to spark a rush of hypotheticals that might turn out to hold some truth. If she didn’t crack yet, it would take one more well-placed question and she would cave.

“Jacob,” her voice was breathy, tinged with unrestrained joy. “I think I found something.”

“What are you talking about, Catherine? Found something?”

More cryptics. More hoops.

A sigh heavy with years of fights - conflicts - departed his lips and Halsey rushed to recover some ground. Her body quickly took back the space he left to place her hand gently on his bicep. The grip was soft but demanding that he stay close; pleading with him not to pull away.

Halsey needed him.

“A few weeks ago the UNSC sent over old documents from companies they’d disassembled. Conatix was one of them.”

It wasn’t hard to spot the confusion that deepened the lines in the crease of Jacob’s forehead and scrunched up his nose. His eyes roamed her face searching for a tell, but if Halsey had one she’d never show it.

“Conatix was an old UNSC factory that produced our warships-“

“Yes, I know.”

“Why would you be interested in anything about warships?”

Halsey scanned the room to make sure no one was watching - no eyes lingering on the two of them - before she directed her attention back to him. The caution that darkened her eyes shifted with a spark Jacob knew all too well.

Halsey had found something. Really found something.

“Usually, nothing of value would be of interest in old documents and schematics for warships but, while scrolling through the files I stumbled upon an encrypted file.”

“UNSC documentation is always encrypted when it’s being shipped out to-“

“To be destroyed, yes I already know that, Jacob,” Halsey cut in. Her body directed back towards the holopad that she carefully picked up. Her fingers darted across the screen hunting for the files in question. “But this was different. It wasn’t schematics or calculations - it was redacted - sealed documents about an incident.”

No sooner had she started Halsey was finished. Her hand reached out to give him the holopad and waited patiently for him to take it.

“Go ahead.”

Jacob looked around the ship's bridge to make sure no one was watching. He needed to be careful, not necessarily for Halsey’s sake, but for that of his crew. He should’ve known - did know - Halsey had a habit, a bad one, to go above the chain of command to get what she wanted. That leverage she saved for a rainy day coming in hot to throw around pawns and pieces as she saw fit to get her way.

Cautiously, Jacob secured the holopad from her and started looking at the documents, or what little he could see. Almost with every swipe all he saw were broken links and documents with holes of information missing. Sentences that formed into two words with the rest gone or replaced by shapes and numbers. An elaborate break in the code.

“I was able to decipher most of them. Get back what information they tried to hide-“

“Catherine,” he whispered her name in warning, not for himself, but for her.

“Jacob - this wasn’t about warships or weapons or schematics. Something happened. A ship they’d used with element zero - eezo - had leaked out over a few colonies. A hole in one of the port engines that wasn’t caught in time.”

“Catherine,” Jacob pleaded again, “This isn’t news or anything that concerns you or me.”

Halsey wasn’t going to back down. He knew she wouldn’t. Not when the sheer joy of finding something undiscovered was close. The science behind furthering human evolution. The moment he realized what this was - what he held in his hands - Jacob knew his eyes were saucers. The sudden shock of realization stunning him to the spot.

“Children, Jacob,” Halsey practically laughed. “The pregnant mothers who were infected by the particles gave birth to children with eezo ingrained into their nervous system. The abilities these files claim they saw…it’s like nothing I’ve ever read.”

In her excitement, Halsey reached out and took a hold of his arm. The startled warmth of her touch was enough to knock Jacob back out of his daze. His eyes skimming one more time over impossible things he saw in diagrams Halsey recreated.

“Even if that was true, you don’t even know if any of them are still alive or where they are.”

With her lips curved up in victory, Halsey plucked the holopad from his hands.

“Yes I do. We’re headed there now.”

————-

“You get caught staring up at the sky again and Caster is going to throw a fit.”

“When isn’t he throwing a fit?”

Your question wasn’t meant for an answer. The words barely made it above a whisper while you kept watch on the green hued light that streaked across the sky like a river. Calling it green felt like you were doing it a disservice. You knew it was more than that - the way it moved with purpose across the endless blue above. The different shades that reminded you of the grass on which you stood and dark as the forest that surrounded you.

“Come on,” Thao called over his shoulder. Your name calling from his lips like it would be enough to coax you forward. “I want to get back to actually enjoy what little of my day I have left.”

“You can enjoy it now,” you reminded him.

It took a few more seconds - another millisecond after that - for your eyes to turn back to the world around you. The snap of a branch somewhere off to your right informing you Thao had taken off without waiting for you to catch up.

“Not when my friends are back at the colony having fun without me. And I’m out here looking for dumb ass yaks.”

A small tut of disapproval clicked at the roof of your mouth. Your stride easily brings you closer to the shorter eleven-year-old boy. It allowed you to gently ruffle his hair. Your efforts were greeted by a grunt of annoyance with his hand grabbing at your wrist to gently shove you away.

“And just think, you would be there now, doing whatever it is you troublemakers do, if you and your friends hadn’t set a flare off inside Caster’s hut. And don’t disrespect the yaks.”

Thao’s eyes disappeared inside his head as your elbow gently nudged his shoulder. You must be making some kind of progress, because this time he made no move to push you away.

“Old man deserved it. Always hoarding the chicken eggs.”

“He owns the chickens.”

“So?”

“So,” you drawled, “it means he owns the eggs. Owning the eggs also means he gets to distribute them however he sees fit.”

“How is that fair? You know he gave Lydia and her kids three eggs last week? Three eggs. What is a family of five supposed to do with that? It’s not right.”

You knew what Thao meant. You understood the feeling of anger that burned into sadness and ultimately to the ash of defeat. Kahn allowed those who proved useful in the fight against the UNSC to have a majority hold on most of the items in the colony. Those who allowed themselves to be shuffled around an unseeable chessboard like pawns.

Willing to die, to give up everything, at his disposal.

All in the name of fighting a government who grew more powerful everyday. The UNSC sharing their own videos of propaganda that showed thousands upon thousands of soldiers equally willing to die for a cause, and Spartans being the unmovable force needed to shift any battle back into the UNSC’s favor. It was this very reason Kahn looked for those desperate enough to join, to do anything he asked, to win.

A devoted father agrees to be a walking bomb to blow up a UNSC building? His family is rewarded with food, wood, and blankets to help make it through the harsh winters. Attempting to infiltrate a building to release a virus, whether you were caught or not, Kahn took care of your family. It could be with livestock, guns for protection, or even the yaks whose pelts made the biggest profit at the markets.

Every loss of life was just another reminder of the men and women who slowly disappeared from the colony. A senseless loss of life. You were still trying to figure out what it was for; what purpose you hadn’t been able to see, because for every life lost in the pursuit of justice against the USNC, their numbers only grew. The colony's numbers, however, weren't so lucky.

“You could turn this war around.”

“I won’t kill for you, Kahn.”

You swiftly whipped your head to the side to rid yourself of the memory. Your eyes narrowing on the green rolling hills on the other side of the treeline. That was where you would find the yaks grazing. You gently patted Thao’ss shoulder - for whatever comfort it would give - before you moved forward to take point.

“That’s because it isn’t fair, Thao.”

“See! Even you agree,” Thao huffed out your name. His small body broke into a jog to match your hurried step. “If anyone in the colony would be able to kick his ass, it would be you.”

Your feet were turning before you’d even realized it. Your body answered the piercing spike of adrenaline in your blood with your hands shooting out to grab his shoulders. The action made you crouch a couple inches until you were face-to-face with Thao. Your eyes scanned wildly across his features reading nothing but uncertainty.

“Don’t ever say something like that out loud again, Thao. Do you understand me?”

“I was only saying-“

“I know what you're trying to say. The answer is no, and if Kahn or any of his dumbass lackies ever heard you even mention something like that we are both as good as dead.”

“But-“

“Tell me you understand!”

If anyone asked why you felt the sudden surge of panic ripple over your skin, you wouldn’t be able to say, or place where it stemmed from. Technically, the both of you were out in the safety of the mountain fields and away from the prying eyes of Kahn’s dictatorship. Lost behind a sea of forest, the rolling fields of green, and poppies that puddled around you like blood.

You’d seen what Kahn and his insurrectionists were capable of. Any whisper - false or not - and the person went missing. Kahn ruled the colony with the fear generated by the UNSC, but cultivated his own like the boogeyman.

“Yeah I get it. Whatever.”

Thao shrugged out of your hold and turned away from you. His pre-teen feet stomped a path out of the tree line and out into the field. A sigh left you, worn and heavy, as you watched his retreat.

I Should’ve been softer…

You let out a huff of air as a hand scrubbed over your face. It was supposed to be a simple ‘herd the yaks back to the colony’ type of day. Not grovel to one of the only people - kid or not - who wasn’t afraid of you.

It was your turn to jog after his retreating form. Quickly, you noticed that he didn’t even look up to acknowledge your presence. He wasn’t sending jokes about being an old lady (you were twenty-four, thank you very much) whose brittle bones could snap under the strain of being a person. You would’ve taken being called an old lady than suffering through the silent treatment.

Gently, you nudged his shoulder with your elbow. When he didn’t turn you tried again and again until, finally, you were rewarded with him turning an annoyed side-eye in your direction. You gave him your best apologetic smile and carefully looped your arm around his shoulders to bring him in close.

“I’m sorry. Okay? I was kind of an asshole.”

“A major asshole.”

“Okay. I’ll accept that major part but only for today.”

“If there was an asshole award, you would’ve taken home the prize-“

“Okay, geez. I get it.”

You both settled into a comfortable pace with your arm still draped over his shoulders. Your mind raced back to the last time you’d been able to do this. Thao had been younger - shorter - and with the rate he was growing, you soon might not be able to reach him. Soon, Thao might not care for your company.

“You know, I am surprised you didn’t fracture an ankle running after me at your tender age.”

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” you grumbled in mock annoyance.

You ended up having to shove him away just to try and hide the smile that threatened to lift the edges of your mouth. The sound of Thao’s laughter at your weak attempt at being mean - he 100% knew it took way too much to even make you raise your voice - made the crack of a smile begin to form.

The yaks were about another ten or so feet ahead of you both. Their massive bodies moved in slow steps while they grazed along the long grass. You weren’t sure if it was their adorable long bangs that made it impossible for them to notice you right away (doubtful) or if they just didn’t consider either of you a threat (possible). Either way, they didn’t startle as the two of you closed the remaining distance. Didn’t jump up to try and kick or gore either of you with their horns when Thao produced the ropes from his satchel.

It took a grand total of ten minutes, maybe less, to have all seven of the yaks securely held in makeshift collars from the rope. Their large bodies begrudgingly followed the two of you as you gently pulled the lead, forcing them to give up their meal of dewy grass and follow you back through the treeline.

“You know,” Thao cautiously began, his eyes skimming between you and the trees. “This might be a lot faster if you just…ya know, float them up.”

“Float them up?”

“With your blue magic.”

This time you weren’t able to hide your smile as you shook your head.

“It’s called biotics, Thao, not blue magic.”

“Blue magic sounds waaaay cooler than ‘biotics’. Who even came up with that lame name, anyway.”

“You can thank the good folks at Conatix for that one.”

One of the yaks pulled back on its lead forcing you to give a slight tug back. You could understand if they were tired after eating, but you really didn’t have time in your schedule for yak naps. A huff of air came from the nostrils of the yak to drive home that it wasn't happy not having its nap. Or maybe it was the berry bush it was after, either way, napping and eating stops were prohibited.

You weren’t aware the conversation had died until Thao’s voice interrupted the silence.

“Is it true that you were born like that?”

His question was timid - afraid he would upset you. You were used to the questions; the stares. You remember sitting with your parents in a room, about Thao’s age, when Conatix came back around trying to clean up their mess. Said mess being spilling eezo from their ships across planets that later infected children. While some pregnant mothers had children like you, exposed to element zero in the womb creating a nervous system made of eezo, a majority were far less lucky. Children born riddled with tumors or horrific physical complications that left them in pain their entire lives.

You were supposed to be a lucky one.

One of the lucky ones they’d been trying to take back with them to their laboratories. A lucky one meant to be bought by a substantial fee that your parents quickly declined. It was the last choice they ever got to make for you before they mysteriously died in a tragic accident off-world.

“Yes.”

You didn’t feel lucky and maybe it was the way the words crumbled out of your mouth. The way they sat suspended in the air in a swirl of regrets and dead wishes that Thao knew you didn’t want to talk anymore. Not about your past or anything that reminded you that what you are - who you are - has felt like one big burden. You wondered, most nights, if there was a possibility that curses could be born.

————

The rest of the walk back was filled with an awkward silence. You weren’t sure if it was one you’d made by your lack of response, or if Thao no longer felt like talking. A part of you feared the image he’d held of you since he was young, full of mystery that made you seem cool, was slowly becoming destroyed. You knew it was a matter of time before it happened.

You were an anomaly.

Children saw you as magical, while adults believed you could perform some kind of mind control or read their thoughts. It was the main reason Kahn wanted you to join the resistance. Who wouldn’t want someone who could read thoughts and control minds on their team? You’d know when and where attacks could happen and make them blow up their ships from the inside. Unfortunately, for Kahn, the only thoughts you could read were your own and, as of right now, they were desperately shouting at you not to lose one of the few friends you had left.

Even if they happened to be a young boy who was notorious for being the most talkative kid in the colony.

With a few more steps up the hill, you both came to a stop at the top of the hill. You took in the thatched roofs of the huts that lay scattered in a misshapen circle of rows. The outer ring of homes were made of clay and the only splash’s of color came from designs being painted on the sides of homes or flowers planted in the yard.

The middle ring was meant to be for men like Kahn and his commanders; men and women of importance so that they lived closer to the final, smaller ring, of storefronts and farmers. The middle circle was left open and featured a large walkway down the center of town and out into the hills.

Kahn specifically had the colony built this way. The walkway was the most important, because Kahn believed it was good for his people to be able to watch those that fought for their freedoms return from another victory against the UNSC. You knew it was more about parading around having people kiss his ass than for uplifting any kind of morale.

It was the same path that Thao and you took now as you brought in the yaks from the mountains. You knew it wouldn’t be long until you got them back inside their pen and with the irritated snorts and tugs on their leashes, the yaks knew it too. The sound of multiple small feet came rushing in on Thao’s side and the faces of a few village children came into view. They made sure to stop just before they got in the way of a yak.

“Thao, can you come play?”

“Not yet. I have to finish this choir for Caster.”

A lot of groaning ensued and you felt your free hand reach over the back of a yak. Your fingers waving for him to give you his leashes. Thao’s brow raised in question and you only answered him by pointing at the leash and waving him again to hand it over.

“Hurry up and give them to me before I change my mind.”

You were trying to be grumpy. The way any elder in town would complain about the youth of today being too soft and not knowing the meaning of hard work and blah blah. You were sure they were all just stuck in super grouchy mode from having to be an adult with responsibilities for too long. And because of that, you knew, instead of looking grumpy, a smile was already brightening up your face. Thao’s face lit up in response and his eyes darted - unsure - from up the path and back to you.

“Are you sure? Caster -“

“Will never know that you didn’t help bring them all the way back. Now, like I said, hand over the lead before I suddenly have a fit of amnesia.”

He didn’t need further prompting. Thao’s hand smashed the remaining leashes into your waiting palm and turned on his heel to run off with the other kids. A soft, “thank you,” calling out behind him.

You didn’t waste any more time watching their retreating backs as they tore down a small alleyway between huts. You had your own things that you still needed to finish today. As you continued on your way, you greeted people who were outside in their gardens or hanging up laundry. Some of them returned your greetings of, “Hello,” with grunts with their backs turned to you or hurried inside. Apparently, if they didn’t look you in the eye or were behind the safety of a wall it kept you from using your mind control powers.

You were willing to bet Kahn had something to do with that latest lie about your make believe abilities. If you wouldn’t fight for him, why not cause a little mass panic in your presence. You being the monster and him, the hero, forcing you to toe the line. No ‘mind reading’ unless it was for the ‘cause’.

As you neared the pen in front of Caster’s shop, you started to rotate the leashes tighter in your hands. You were positive if the yaks felt a slack in their leash, they would attempt a revolt. They also weren’t the biggest fan of the metal pen of broken down ships Caster created to house them; the metal of an old hatch door from a USNC frigate - rusted and covered in moss - groaned as it opened. A sound the yaks knew well and instantly sent their hooves stamping into the muddy grass.

“Alright, ladies, I don’t want any trouble. It’s time to get your butts back in here - whoa!”You shot around with a start as one of the yaks gently bumped its nose against your back sending you forward towards the pen. “None of that,” you mumbled. Your index finger pointing at your chest then back to every single one of them. “Your home, not mine. Now go.”

With a cautious glance over your shoulder you took a step forward leading the herd inside. It wasn’t until you’d begun to remove their leashes that the familiar sound of a man clearing his throat brought your gaze up to search the fence. It didn’t take long for you to find Caster leaning against it. An arm hanging over while the other held up whatever self-righteous bullshit questioning he was about to spew.

“Where’s Thao?”

“He helped me bring them here, Caster. I sent him on his way once we reached the pen.”

“That’s not what he was told to do and you don’t have any authority to change orders.”

Every word reached you like a slap in the face. Caster’s irritation was evident with the click of his tongue. You tried to keep your face neutral; your gaze fixed on one of the yak's as your fingers ran through the tangled fur. You gave one final pat to signal your departure before you walked back to the pen’s exit.

“I wasn’t aware Thao had to be the specific individual to deliver a bunch of yaks inside the pen.”

“Bullshit,” Caster snarled your name. His body closing the distance between you as you stepped through the pen entrance. “You can try and play dumb with me all you want, but we both know you aren’t that damn dense. Thao can’t shut up even for a second in his sleep, and you’re trying to tell me the boy magically didn’t complain the whole time he was with you?”

Caster invaded what little space you had once you stepped fully out from behind the pen. The door hadn’t even closed yet before Caster rushed you, attempting to trap you between him and the metal. The cold gray of his eyes roamed your face waiting for you to break at his intimidation.

One of the Shadow Sea’s three moons would have to explode first before that ever happened.

You jammed the cool metal of the pens chains into his chest. You didn’t bother to see if he would catch it when you released it. You knew he would, and when Caster did, you made sure to take a step towards him forcing the older man two options; hold his ground or back up. You weren’t surprised when he did the latter.

“You’re right, Caster, I’m not that damn dense. Close up your own fucking pen.”

You didn’t give him the chance to reply. The first step you took forced him to take another step back, your shoulder ramming into his as you pushed your way past him.

Could you have gone around?

Yes, but, no matter what, it felt a lot better being petty for a couple of seconds than pretending for a second you cared.

It didn’t take Caster long to find his bearings. The sound of the chains rustling in his hands and a slew of curses thrown at your back were the first to greet you before he yelled after you: “Just wait until Kahn hears about this!”

“Yea, yea,” you mumbled.

You were willing to bet no matter how the exchange between Caster and you went, Kahn was always going to hear how it went. Good or bad. Caster yelled something else at your retreating back. You responded with a wave and continued back down the main path before you veered off course into a smaller path. It was one you knew well since you were a child. One you knew led to your grandparents' hut.

Smoke rose from the clay chimney and you knew, before you entered through the doorway, you’d find your grandfather working to dry his latest clay pots by the fire. Your grandmothers weathered fingers working tirelessly with a needle and her beadwork scattered over the small table. It was only a few days before everyone with goods left to try and sell them at the Market. You moved through the small space stopping to kiss the top of your grandmother’s head before you gently took over for your grandfather.

“And where did you run off to this morning?”

You didn’t have to look up to feel the weight of your grandfather’s stare. His scrutinizing eyes waiting for you to give him a response knowing full well it wasn’t going to be the one he wanted.

“There is no need to worry, grandpa. I was nowhere and everywhere all at once.”

“That sentence alone turned what little hair I have left white.”

“All of your hairs’ already white.”

“Precisely my point,” he groaned.

The soft chuckle of your grandmother cut through the tension in the small room. Your eyes now directed to the open flame and focused on turning the pot slowly with the tongs. The last thing you wanted to hear on top of giving your grandfather white hair and an early grave was ruining a pot he’d worked on most of this morning.

“Would you two stop it? I’m sure she has a perfectly good explanation for why she was missing this morning. Don’t you dear?”

Your grandmother sent a coy look in your direction and you couldn’t wait to completely crush her dreams. While your grandfather believed in hard work, your grandmother believed in finding a good spouse who could provide for the imaginary great grandchildren she’d already named.

Either that or joining the resistance.

“I was out helping Thao rally up the yaks that ran away this morning.”

A sigh so heavy escaped from your grandfather’s chest that you could’ve sworn all your ancestors before you joined him.

“And there it is.”

The soft call of your name forced your attention back to where your grandmother now sat idle. Her hands placing the beadwork and adjoining needles on the table. Her small frame turned on the bench to make sure she had your full attention.

“I’m happy you want to help but you already know Kahn will-“

“Will throw a bitch fit. Yeah, yeah, I know.”

A smack on your arm sent you jolting back in surprise. Your eyes cautiously roaming over to your grandmother to see if she was going to hit you again. With how tightly her lips were pressed together, you had a feeling, with some of the things that came from your mouth, the possibility of her doing it again was imminent.

“Whether you like him or not, Kahn is our leader.”

“No, he is your leader. Kahn will never be mine. A real leader doesn’t sacrifice their people to gain information or so they don’t get locked up inside a UNSC prison.”

“And do you think there is someone more fit to lead if he was gone? Who do you think would run the rebellion?”

“Plenty of more competent individuals could step forward to take his place if he wasn’t aro-“

You realized you sounded like Thao who, hours before, you’d shushed him into complacency. Your fear for his safety was paramount over how right his words might have been. And here you were doing the exact same thing inside your grandparents hut.

“Enough!”

Your grandfather wasn’t known for raising his voice and when he did it was usually out of desperation; a fear that surpassed anger that delved into worry from the unknown. You could see it now etched into every wrinkle that creased in the sagging skin of his sunburnt face. The way he tried to hold onto the anger before it was swept away by something he wouldn’t voice in fear of giving it a name.

“Whether you like it or not, Kahn runs this settlement. He is the only one working here to free us from the tyrant that is the UNSC! At least he is doing something, which is more than I can say for my own granddaughter!”

“Ernest,” your grandmother’s voice cautioned.

“So you want me to just let him use me like some kind of weapon?”

You no longer cared about holding the pinchers over the fire or the clay pot - your grandfather's life’s work - held delicately between them. As you stood up from the stool you dropped the pinchers and the sound of clay cracking tapered over your shuddering breathing for just a moment. You moved away from the fire towards a corner of the room closest to the door. The thunder in your ears drowning out the shouts of your grandmother; your eyes coming in and out of focus as you tried to ease the panic from your veins.

It would only take a second - a fatal second of panic to fill the room with a cobalt hue of flame that would ruin everything.

“Kahn offers you a way to use your gift, to teach you how to use it, and better help our people and you spit in his face!” He hissed. “Your parents gave their life for the cause-“

“And what has Kahn given!?” You hadn’t meant to scream. Each word laced with a grief stricken with rage that only bloomed brighter over time. “He asks families to give their husbands, wives, their children to fight his battles and what the fuck does he do for us?!”

“Why can’t you ever see that you can help save us? Kahn can help teach you how to control it.”

“Help me control it or control me?”

“You ungrateful child.”

His words hissed through the air and buried themselves in the hollow of your chest. Your feet involuntarily took a step back, ready to flee the hut, ready to find peace in the hills of the forest when the collective raised shouts of the villagers rang out from behind the walls.

“UNSC vessels spotted!”

It was the distraction you needed to escape the hut. The shouts of worried men and women pushing you to rush outside and greedily take gulp after gulp of fresh air until the flare, the warmth, of your power began to dig back inside your skin. When you dragged your gaze away from the grass you were greeted with villagers running back and forth. The ones who sprinted down the open lane back out towards the open forest only ended up coming back moments later.

You made your way out into the crowd, weaving in between the bodies to get to the heart of the circle their bodies created. They all stood in large huddled groups; mothers clutching their children and the able bodied men moving in front of them, in front of everyone, to try and guard them. The villagers who tried running down the main road were coming, as if herded, back to the center of the village. You didn’t understand why they were all running back to the middle.

This was a kill zone.

Strategically the worst place to be for any of the resistance fighters if they were going to make any attempt to fight back. It wasn't until you made it to the middle that your earlier rage turned to ice as you watched the UNSC marines, and four very big fucking Spartans, make their way up the middle.

If Spartans were here you knew no one stood a chance. A fight would be suicide. You needed to get back to your grandparents. You needed -

“Attention settlers of the Lera system of Laconix: I am Captain Jacob Keyes of the USNC. We have viable intel that led us to believe that you are harboring a fugitive by the name of Kahn Montrello - a known insurrectionist. We are asking for your cooperation in this matter. We can resolve this matter peacefully, with no need to resort to any unnecessary violence.”

“Screw you! You have no jurisdiction here or any outer colonies.”

Fred. That was his name. Maybe. You didn’t know - couldn’t remember. Your brain couldn’t think past your own rushing pulse or speeding thoughts. He was just pushing past the crowd with angry shouts and limbs flying while he moved towards them. You watched as he made his way towards the marines like a man on fire, and was met by a Marine who burned brighter. The butt of their gun cracking against his cheek sent him spiraling to the ground.

You weren’t sure if you were already panicked or if the sight of blood seeping through his fingers caused it. No matter what the real reason was you knew there was no getting around whatever came next. Like a swarm of locusts, the marines fanned out and moved forward. Their bodies corralled the villagers tighter together and kept any hope of escape at bay.

It was the perfect time for Kahn to make his appearance. His form practically glided from between a lake of terrified bodies frozen in fear, clutching one another, as he opened his arms in welcome.

“You say you wish us no violence, only want our cooperation, and yet attack a simple working man.”

“You need to stay where you are or you will be taken down with force,” a marine answered, their gun trained on Kahn who continued to take careful steps forward.

He responded with his hands showing he wasn’t armed. Kahn made a show to come to a stop in front of Captain Keyes.

“Maybe that was advice you should’ve opened with, Captain Keyes.”

Kahn was treating this like a joke. He was wearing that easy smile of his displaying he didn’t have a care in the world. He was either suicidal, genocidial in willing to let them completely kill the colony or, you realized with a sickening drop in your stomach, Kahn had another plan.

“And you are?”

“I’m Malcom. Another humble merchant who lives here.”

Liar!

The panic that settled like lead inside your gut dropped heavier, threatening to upend whatever was left from your morning breakfast. You didn’t have to guess what his plans were, because Kahn was laying them bare for everyone to see. The only difference between you and everyone else is that whoever he chose to sacrifice for the name of his ‘revolution’ would be met with silence.

Captain Keyes outlined Kahn’s frame with suspicion and a pebble of hope was thrown your way. Maybe he could sense the lie that costed Kahn’s words. Maybe it would be enough for him to call bullshit.

“Okay, Malcolm. And what is it you’re wanting?”

“I want nothing, Captain. I just want to show you exactly who you are looking for.”

Kahn never intended to point the finger at himself - why would he when there were dozens of men brainwashed to think their sacrifice mattered. You followed his finger like everyone else drawn to the imaginary string he pulled and waited to see what poor fool he chose this time.

Except this time - no…NO!

It was your grandfather who took a step forward out of the dozens of bodies. The wooden tip of his cane met the ground with a depth of a shovel digging a grave with each step. Your grandmother reached out her arms - called for him to come back - but he continued to make his way forward. His head held high like he was making a decision everyone should be proud of.

“I am Kahn Montrello. The man you seek.”

Captain Keyes took one look at your grandfather and you could see the disbelief reflected in his eyes. The way they darkened further on a decision you, or anyone else, would ever be made aware of until he made it.

“I’ve never known an insurrectionist leader to give themselves up so willingly.”

Thank god Captain Keyes was smarter than he looked. Your grandfather, however, wasn’t backing down. He squared his shoulders and planted his hands coolly over the hilt of his cane. His head held high enough for his next words to strangle him.

“Any leader should be willing to give themselves up for the safety of their people. Is that what you can offer me, Captain Keyes? The safety of my colony if I come willingly?”

“What are you doing?”

You were sure it was the panic that surged you forward. How you found yourself taking step after step until you were out from behind every last villager and into the clearing with Kahn and your grandfather.

“Stay back!”

“Don’t take another step forward!”

You were vaguely aware of the commands being slung your way. The arms that lifted weapons as you took scrambling steps towards your grandfather who only looked on with distaste.

“Go back with the others. I won’t tell you again.”

It was the voice he’d used countless times since you were a child. A voice that radiated with authority that now only showcased his age. A part of you wanted to follow his orders and run to your grandmother’s side. To be a good granddaughter and comfort her the way she needed.

But she wouldn’t need comforting if Kahn wasn’t such a fucking coward.

“No!”

He hissed your name as he nervously looked out over the marines. At Captain Keyes.

“Be good and do as you're told.”

“I won’t let you do this!”

“And I don’t need your permission-“

“What about grandma? You’re just going to leave her like this?”

“I wasn’t aware Kahn Montrello had grandchildren?” Keyes quipped.

You could see your grandfather open his mouth to reply and you made sure to cut him off before he could say another lie.

“That’s because he doesn’t because Kahn -“

“Apologies, Captain Keyes,” Kahn cut in. “This girl is unwell. Ever since she lost her parents -“

“Don’t you dare speak about them.“

“-she’s been desperately trying to cling to anyone willing to call her family.”

You weren’t aware you were moving forward until you heard the shouts from the marines; the gasps of fear from your own people. You were vaguely aware of the tingle of heat that moved like a shockwave from your fingertips up your arms until it consumed you. In another time, a different life, maybe you would’ve been aware that your biotics had flared to life and enveloped you in what looked like cobalt flame.

A fitting image for the one Kahn so lovingly painted for you. An unhinged woman filled with crazy fantasies and a desperation for family.

The only thing you could focus on was Kahn who stood before you. The coward who easily was willing to give your grandfather up to the UNSC knowing what they do to insurrectionist leaders. The unspeakable torture done to collect secrets, and their executions televised on every available feed for all to see.

With the thought of your grandfather’s future weighing behind your eyes you lashed out. Your hand rising forward to catch Kahn midway in taking a step back. Your biotics held him suspended in the air. You were vaguely aware of what sounded like your grandfather calling your name. The wood of his cane crunching through dirt and leaves to rush to you.

There was more shouting - orders being relayed and metal clicks of safeties being released - and you knew chaos was about to ensue.

“Spartan’s your orders are to grab the insurrectionist known as Kahn Montrello. Marines focus on providing backup and subduing any and all threats.”

A wash of relief rippled through you. The UNSC had come to their senses. They must have realized Kahn for the liar he was. Captain Keyes caught on that the rouse Kahn created with your grandfather was all a lie.

Except that wasn’t what happened.

The marines who fanned out around the clearing were now moving in towards one sole target: you. The Spartans who Keyes sent forward to capture Kahn weren’t headed in your direction, but towards your grandfather who was visibly shaking as he watched two of the UNSC’s giants - their most powerful weapons - move towards him.

“No! You have it all wrong! He isn’t Kahn!”

You released the hold you had on Kahn. No longer was he held suspended in the air as you sent his body flying towards the marines. Your feet were digging into the soil, pitching you forward in a hard sprint, as you barreled blindly towards your grandfather. You could hear him warning you to stay back - ‘stay away’ - but you never were good with doing what you were told.

The closest Spartan,only identified by the numbers 028 on her chest, was almost on him. They were so close it would only take a couple more inches and this Spartan would grab a hold of him and you would lose him. Forever.

You were running on pure adrenaline. Your vision honed in on nothing else but the hand of the Spartan that reached out to grab at his arm. If they got a hold of him, that was it. You called on every cell of energy in your body, your arm drawing back - nerves frying - as the eezo inside your body compacted in the space around you, changing it into a powerful ball that you launched with a scream. The Spartan barely had time to react when the cobalt sphere of element zero slammed into her suit and sent her flying back.

“Riz!”

You had a split second to make half a shield before the second Spartan’s fist slammed against it. The impact snapped like a shockwave of its own. The force of impact sent your feet sliding back against the dirt. The sound of heavy footsteps following your rolling body forced you to spring to your knees as you called on another surge of element zero and sent it flying like a fastball.

It slammed into the Spartan but, unlike the first one, it barely slowed them down. The impact crackled against the air and the force field around his armor allowing your biotics to push them back only a few feet. It was all the feet you needed to scramble on all fours to your grandfather, who was kneeling in a heap in the dirt.

As soon as you slide in next to him, you put up a small force field - a bubble of blue that encapsulated you both just in time before bullets bounced against the shield. Gently, you secured an arm underneath his shoulders and tried to lift him up to you. All while your right hand stayed pressed against the barrier you’d created. Your arms shaking with the strain of holding back another round of gunfire and the slamming fists of a very big, very angry, Spartan.

You were running out of time. The strain of keeping the barrier up, of using powers you usually never touched, left a noticeable trail of perspiration to crown your forehead. If you kept this up much longer, you knew the nosebleeds would start soon.

“Come on grandpa. We have to get up now. We gotta get you out of here.”

“Just let them take me, deheyah*.”

A heavy wave of memory, weighted with emotions thick and stifling, threatened to knock you off balance. The last time your grandfather had ever called you that, was before your parents died. When you were allowed the luxury of childhood innocence and the imagination that the world held the beauty of magic before it was destroyed by the gravity of reality.

“That’s not going to happen, grandpa. I won’t let it happen. I can’t lose you too.”

Your body jerked with the next slam of a fist against the barrier. The impact sent a shutter down into the marrow of your bones and snapped at your nervous system. The pain was immediate and tore a gasp from you.

“You will never lose me. I will always be with you. Wherever you go. Whatever you choose to be.”

“No.”

You shook your head violently forcing him to reach out to steady you. The soft leather of his hand cupped your cheek quieting your protests and forced you to keep your eyes on him.

“I’m sorry for what I said. Earlier. I just - I just wanted what was best for you. I always have. But…only you know what is best for your life. Never stop fighting. Don’t be afraid of who you can be.”

“Why are you talking like this? This isn’t goodbye grandpa. Come on, I have to get you back to grandma. She’s going to be pissed if you just stay here.”

But it was, wasn’t it? You’d felt it when your hands touched the layers of shawls that draped over his chest. It was wetter than it should’ve been. His eyes glassy and unfocused and struggling to keep them on you while he spoke. Somehow, you’d been a few moments too late when the bullets came your way, and those few seconds allowed the hollow point of a bullet to find a hole in the center of his chest.

Blood covered your left hand as another sharp synopsis of pain resonated through your nervous system. Spartan 028, Riz, was back up and hammering away at the sphere of the barrier you’d created. The pain should’ve been unbearable but nothing compared to the last gasp of air that shuddered from your grandfather. It couldn’t compare to the feeling of his body, lifeless, and sagging towards the earth where the weight forced you to place him.

None of this would’ve happened if Kahn wasn’t a coward. If he didn’t use people, the very people he claimed were his. People he swore to defend and liberate - for his own gain.

The anger swelled brighter inside like a raging flame. Every beating your nervous system took holding up the barrier became a dulled sensation as you struggled to breathe around the loss of your grandfather.

The Spartans had stopped but didn’t move back. A woman was off to your right. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Smiling like she was friendly but the mock kindness didn’t reach her eyes. They were bright with excitement; the way hunters spotted prey. A scientist finding a new object to dissect.

“…I’m Doctor Halsey.”

Of course she was. She wanted to dissect you. The same way the scientists from Conatix tried many years ago by trying to buy you from your parents. She was saying your name but she had no right to it.

This Dr. Halsey.

False smile given under false pretenses. Just like Kahn has his fancy glittering speeches that kept hopes high and results low.

“We don’t want to harm you. If you are willing to come peacefully we promise we will leave the colony immediately. No further bloodshed needs to happen.”

The part of you that wasn’t soaked in grief agreed. It was the best call to make - the right call. It promised no more suffering would happen. It meant your grandmother would be safe.

Your grandmother. A woman who lost her son. Her husband. Now her granddaughter. Who would watch her if you left? The thought alone sprang a sharp refusal to your tongue until you stood, your eyes cast down at the warm body of your grandfather. In that moment, whatever reasonable human being you used to be ceased to exist. The only thing left was rage.

Dr. Halsey must have noticed. No longer was she crouched to be eye level with you. She returned to her full height. Her hands placed out in front to shield herself, as if that would be enough to stop what happened next.

“Whatever you’re thinking - don’t.”

Your reply came in a scream that crawled its way from the pit of despair that had lodged itself inside your heart. The loss of your parents, the death of your grandfather, and for your grandmother who would be alone. You used that hurt, bitterness, and rage and used it to erupt your shield into a burst of biotic energy that detonated like a bomb. The sheer force alone sent the Spartans back.

It wasn’t enough but you only needed a minute or two. Just enough time for you to send your biotics crackling along the air in a line until it grabbed a hold of Kahn and pulled him like a slingshot of force back towards you. When he was close enough, you dropped your left hand that you’d use to control the pull of his body, and cocked back your right arm, your palm open, and launched it forward. The slam of the biotics hit home at the center of his chest launching Kahn back through the scrambling crowd of people, with the sickening crack of his sternum mixing with the scream that tore from your throat.

It was all the time you had before the Spartan marked with 117 came into view. His armored fist closes in like a warthog at full speed against your cheek, sending your body spiraling into the dirt. You could feel the earth shift with tremors as he moved to follow you. You could taste the blood from the hit and wondered if your jaw was broken. If you just lost a whole row of teeth.

“John, Incapacitate her only! I need her to be brought back with us. Alive.”

For a glorious moment, your blurred vision swirled only with the uninterrupted view of the sky before the cameo green of Master Chief, savior of the galaxy - or John - 117 - helmet came into view. A joke was brewing on the back of your tongue, covered in humor and blood before his fist came crashing down your line of sight, and the world became blissfully quiet.

_________

You found that the darkness wasn’t as quiet as you’d hoped.

The impact from the punch the Maater Chief, or John - 117 as that woman called him, had launched you into what felt like a nightmare. Held hostage by a paralysis of your own mind. Unable to change the forms of what you saw. The images were vivid. The sounds carried a weight that sat heavy like lead in your skull. It made you miss the pain of being conscious.

You weren’t sure if the screams that bounced around inside your head were real or if they were just a part of the nightmare. Over and over your broken mind played out the moment a Marine’s bullet found a hole inside your grandfather's gut.

No matter how fast you ran, if you launched yourself in front of him, you were never fast enough. Each step you took sunk deeper into the earth as if your legs were trying to race through quicksand. Your own biotics mysteriously grew quiet - refusing to work for the first time in your life.

No matter what the outcome never changed. Your grandfather was gone, and there was no time travel to head back and change that startling fact.

A sickening lurch, one you knew meant a ship was coming out of slipspace, sent the contents of that morning’s breakfast swirling in your stomach. You barely had time to register that it was real, the nausea, and that you were really about to throw up. You’d barely rolled to your side before said breakfast displayed itself onto a very shiny metal floor.

As soon as you finished, you rolled back onto your back. Your eyes fluttered open to take in the fluorescent lights, the cool slated metal ceiling that matched the walls and floor. It was definitely a cell, and you most definitely found out much too late that your wrists were tied behind your back.

When you were sure you weren’t going to upend anymore of your breakfast, you slowly began to maneuver to sit on the only bench they’d laid you on. The pain in the sockets of your shoulders informing you that you’d been like this for quite a while.

You were still trying to gather your bearings when the sliding doors to your right opened. A woman with blonde hair stood at the forefront with a Spartan, the dusk green armor of John - 117, standing protectively behind her. When she moved, he moved. You couldn’t help but consider her a puppeteer and the Spartan the puppet. He didn’t move unless she did and you doubted he would be doing any of the talking.

She entered the room with a cautionary smile and clinical eyes assessing you before she even entered. It was easy to tell she was a scientist and, more than likely, a very experienced one in whatever it was she specialized in.

“Hello, Subject Cobalt,” she said brightly. Her smile never faltered once. “I’m glad to see that you are alright. My name is Doctor Halsey. I’ve come to do an assessment on you and make sure you didn’t sustain any life-threatening or mind altering issues after what happened back on Laconix.”

Subject Cobalt?

Was that supposed to be you?

You eyed her warily as she took her first step inside the cell. The heavy footsteps of Mjolnir armor followed closely behind. If she suspected you were jumpy - a rabbit in headlights, as the old ones used to say - Halsey never showed it.

A few more steps and she was beside the bench. Another breath and she was sitting beside you. The smile on her face beaming and hollowing out her eyes with rapture at what she must have considered a new species. You made a fine new specimen for any scientist, you would imagine. A nervous system full of eezo that lit your body up like an Earthen Christmas tree and the power to wield it like a weapon.

Doctor Halsey was practically giddy beside you.

“I’m going to do a few simple tests to verify cognitive function isn’t impaired. To do so, I’m going to need your assistance. Do you think you could do that for me?”

Your eyes scanned over her as you considered your options. It turned out to be a very short list that was available to you. The only option being to go along with what she asked.

“Okay.”

That one word was all the go ahead Halsey needed to cause her megawatt smile to go up a notch. She must have thought you would be resistant to following orders and she wasn’t wrong but, from where you were sitting, this seemed like the lesser of two evils.

“Splendid. First, I’m going to run this pen horizontally and vertically. I need you to focus on the tip of the pen, and follow it as closely as you can.”

“Okay.”

Doctor Halsey lifted the pen up to eye level, a few inches away from your face, and waited for your eyes to train on the silver point. You hadn’t expected an examination as soon as you woke up. You weren’t sure if you should’ve felt happy or worried about it. If you were one misstep away from becoming a lab rat.

You’d been so deep in thought - your mind considering all the outcomes and possibilities of this interaction ending well - that you completely missed her first question.

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?”

Another smile. Another deflection. It was enough, however, for you to notice the tightness in the fine lines of her face. It was so small you could’ve missed it.

“Of course. During your biotic episode on Laconix, I noticed your nose started bleeding. Does it do that every time you use your biotics?”

“No.”

The tightness again. This time it was the edges of her smile - suspended in that mock sweetness - that reminded you of your mother. Waiting for you to give more detail without prodding and realizing, rapidly, you feared incriminating yourself. The pen dropped into her lap. Her eyes roaming over your face for a sign - a tell - that she could exploit.

“You aren’t in any kind of trouble. I’m merely trying to help you -“

“Is that what you’re trying here, Dr. Halsey? To be my friend? To tell me I’m not in any danger when you took me off my planet against my will?” You inquired. Her mouth was still suspended open, forming around a word cut short by your desire to not hear anymore bullshit. “It feels like there is more going on than what you’re sharing.”

She schooled her face - even her eyes - to remain emotionless. A perfect blank slate to display only what she wanted without giving away what she didn’t.

“Alright. I watched you. At first, you seemed in control, but after the third or fourth time your biotics displayed themselves, and you overextended their use, you suffered an epistaxis - the nosebleed. Further scans done here in the ship’s medical bay presented signs of swelling and hematoma on the brain. A few hours before you woke up, I had them run another analysis and both are gone. Which leaves me to believe it only occurs upon exhaustion.”

She watched you as she spoke. Her gaze searching, prodding, for signs of whatever reaction she expected but wasn’t getting. You would’ve loved to offer up whatever it was she wanted, if only you knew which specific one she was hunting for.

“Tell me. Do you get migraines?”

“What is this?”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s a lie,” you shot back.

The tone in your voice matched the anxiety rising in your chest. It caused your words to be rougher than intended, alerting the Spartan in the corner who took a step towards you. Only the rising hand of calm - control - from Dr. Halsey kept him from taking another step.

“I think you understand more than you’re willing to tell me or, at least, not wanting to show your whole hand, anyway. You’re a scientist, right? Probably super smart. Smart enough you probably come from some UNSC lab from Reach or Illium?”

“Reach.”

The carefully constructed smile was back on her lips, but this time you could see a spark of something brighten up the soft blue of her eyes. You were doing something she didn’t expect, but her scientific mind found it fascinating. No doubt logging it away to draw it open later somewhere quiet to dissect.

Your lips pouted around her admission. Reach. One of the top three planets, if not the first, for all private and commercial research filled with legal litigation and NDA’s to protect organizations and UNSC labs from the courts of public opinions. It was how Conatix got away with doing what they did to you and the other kids scattered across the galaxy. Only taking notice when it seemed like something that could benefit them. You weren’t stupid. Halsey had taken one look at what you could do - what you did - and only two things came to mind: control or destroy.

You hadn’t figured out exactly which one you were to Dr. Halsey yet.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Halsey didn’t necessarily give you a reason to think it was an outlandish guess. Everything - everyone - was expendable when it came to science and the betterment of humanity. Or whatever the UNSC’s science team's new slogan was.

“Why would we kill you?”

You tried to shrug off the growing anxiety that sat coiling inside your gut.

“To experiment on me. Take me apart and see what’s buried underneath, so to speak. Isn’t that what you people do.”

“You don’t realize what you are, do you? The advancement of human genetics - biology - that is flowing through you.”

“What’s flowing through me is eezo and it cost hundreds of children their lives.”

“Yes, but for one out of a hundred children there is something remarkable. You. The one out of a thousand. A stepping stone towards humans having a place amongst the vast and ever growing populace of space. I don’t want to kill you, Cobalt. I want to integrate you into my program.”

“What program?”

You wondered if madness was contagious. If you asked anyone else, they might have dismissed your words as too harsh. No doubt calling Halsey’s display of excitement for simply that, but you could see her eyes. Underneath all that perfectly concealed pleasant exterior was an intelligence that was willing to break the norms - rules - to get to whatever she needed.

“I run the Spartan program. Granted, you are well past the parameters to become a Spartan, no, I…I want to make a subunit. I think Cobalt, we can help each other, and not only help each other, but possibly end this war.”

UNSC propaganda.

That’s what the war was. Everyone in the outer colonies knew it was just a fancy attempt to stop the growing surge of colonists from joining the insurrectionists. Halsey sensed your doubt before you disregarded her words with a shake of your head.

“No. The covenant is just a UNSC nightmare story to try and get the outer colonies to toe the line. To allow themselves to be governed under your jurisdiction.”

“I can promise you. It’s not.”

“Of course you would say that! You’re a USNC scientist for Christ’s sake!”

“John.”

Somehow, you’d forgotten that big hunk of tin was in the room. Halsey kept you focused on her - solely on her - that when the Spartan took a step forward, the reflection of the room mirrored in his visor, you almost jumped out of your skin.

In his hand was a holopad that he deposited into her waiting palm. Halsey didn’t waste time logging in. Her fingers tapped wildly across the screen with a speed that left you dizzy. When she found whatever it was she’d been looking for she extended the holopad out for you to take.

“This was transmitted to us only a few hours ago.”

Warily, you watched her. Your mind debating if you should take the holopad or tell her to fuck off. It was more made up videos or fancy speeches, you were sure of it. The grim lines of her face, however, left you wondering just how certain you were. It was her turn to place the holopad in your hands. Your gaze on her a few more seconds before it dropped down to the video that played on the screen.

Bright beams. It’s what you noticed first. Beams that erupted from the sky with such brilliant clarity you knew it could only be one form: plasma. You couldn’t understand - comprehend - what you were seeing.

Plasma on that scale was impossible. It should’ve been and yet, you watched as it sliced through the planet's barrier, through molecules, and simple things like trees and mountains. Everything it touched turned red hot like lava from volcanoes you’d heard stories about that were on the original human planet of earth. While the plasma beam continued its destructive course, the magma it left behind flowed behind.

You didn’t understand until you did.

You knew that mountain. You’d glanced at it many times on walks to neighboring villages for trade. Attempted to climb it a thousand times as a child.

“What is this?”

Your disbelief was met with something you couldn’t place from her. Halsey didn’t offer up sympathy. She offered up an understanding of watching everything you love disappear in a wave of destruction. But how could she understand the hollowness, the sinking feeling of dread that gripped your heart and threatened to make it stop?

“It’s Laconix. Shortly after we left the Covenant arrived. They glassed the planet.”

“Glassed? I - I don’t. I don’t understand.”

You were going to hyperventilate if you weren’t careful.

“It’s gone, Cobalt.” That’s not my name. “The Covenant doesn’t take prisoners. They destroy everything. Kill everything. Your planet is gone.”

Gone.

Your home. What was left of your family - your people - your community. Gone. In less than 7.8 seconds of holopad footage.

“But you can avenge them. You can fight for them and to protect every other planet still left out there in the galaxy and I can help you do it.”

Deep down a part of you knew this had been her tactic all along. If reason didn’t make someone join your cause, then using their emotions against them would. You should’ve seen it coming. Took the time to ask more questions but the growing hole in your soul moved on from shock and grief was rocketing towards unbridled rage at lightning speed.

When you glanced back up at her, Halsey knew she had you before you even spoke.

“What do you need me to do?”

As always, thank you so much for reading. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

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rengokuology · 9 months

Note

I just read the Lexi Howard fanfiction and your writing got me back into my euphoria phase and I absolutely adore Lexi Howard! Could you please do a Lexi Howard x fem reader where the reader is really hyperactive in the moment but someone tells her she is being annoying and getting on their last nerve, so she like goes quiet and is holding back tears and biting her nails like a nervous habit, but Lexi obviously notices so Lexi pulls her aside and comforts her?

HARSH WAVES TO CALM WATERS. . .

LEXI HOWARD x FEM! HYPERACTIVE! READER

WARNINGS, hurt to comfort fanfiction ( i love this type of fanfics— )

DEAR REQUESTER, hellooooo!! as someone who is kinda inexperienced with writing this type of fanfiction, if i did anything wrong or you didn’t like it, let me know so if you want to re-request and such but anyways, i hope you enjoy!!

today, for her, has been very shitty.

well, like everyday, the beginning was normal! she went to school with the help from maddy, then she met up with her friends and her girlfriend, then went to her next classes, etc, etc.

all of that was interrupted though when an insensitive asshole told her that she needed to shut up because everybody was getting tired and annoyed of her ranting.

so, now here she was, sitting at the lunch table with her friend group and staying silent, something that hasn’t been quite common but they didn’t notice.

she was biting her nails while thinking— no, not thinking, overthinking and glancing at her girlfriend and her friends talking.

‘are they annoyed with me? they do seem annoyed. or maybe it’s just school? it could be school or— or nate! or maybe. . . maybe it’s me.’

she kept trying to reassure herself in her mind and chasing her thoughts to stop but no matter what, those thoughts kept running and basically playing ‘tag, you’re it’ with her in her mind.

she chewed on her nails, looking down at the lunch table and started to breath more and more heavily, more faster. . .

eventually, her thoughts started to corrupt her whole entire body and her body started to feel shaky and rough yet so light and far out of reach while a churning, burning feeling of doubt started to arise in her stomach.

‘what. . . what about lexi? she doesn’t hate me, she isn’t my girlfriend for no reason!’

‘or is she faking? maybe she is faking and i’m just too oblivious?’

‘no, stop thinking that, lexi loves you, you love lexi and your both happy!’

‘but lexi has been spending a lot of time with fezco. . . did she fall out of love?’

‘or maybe she wasn’t in love? is it just a prank or something?’

‘did maddy bribe her to date me? or maybe cassie?’

‘no, they wouldn’t do that, lexi wouldn’t do that’

‘but people can fake being in love and shit so maybe. . .?’

‘no, that can’t be possible. i’m not oblivious.’

‘but it can.’

her breathing grew heavier and faster by the minute, her hand starting to shake a little as tears started to brim her eyes without knowing.

everything felt wrong, not right, she felt too light, like she was in the sky almost, floating but falling at the same time.

she kept biting at her nails, caring for people who saw but she couldn’t stop.

‘are people looking at me? oh god, they’re looking at me.’

‘no, no, they’re just looking at their friends!’

‘or is it me? they look like they hate me.’

she kept overthinking and overthinking, she couldn’t focus on only one person, one thing, and because of that, her nerves of anxiety were spiking and her hand shaking to the point where people can tell by just a glance.

she couldn’t stop, chasing her thoughts and begging them to end their madness but nothing happening.

it felt too wrong, too light, she needed to run. . .

“hey, are you ok?”

suddenly, (reader) was brought back to reality by her girlfriend, (reader) turning her head towards lexi.

“sorry, what did you say?” “i was asking if you were ok?”

lexi told her, a concerned look on her features as lexi had her attention directed onto (reader).

‘she’s lying, she doesn’t care. she’s acting.’

‘or maybe she does? maybe she does care?’

‘no, that can’t be it. . .’

(reader) quickly nodded, a reassuring and small smile gracing her lips as she stared back at lexi, still not knowing that tears were in her eyes.

“yep, i’m fine!”

she wasn’t fine.

and lexi knew she was lying, taking a quick glance at the girls bathroom door before turning her eyes back to (reader).

“you wanna go to the bathroom real quick?”

(reader) now leaned against the tiled wall, looking down at her hands and picking at her painted fingernails while avoiding lexi’s gaze and calming herself down slowly by being alone with her girlfriend.

"did something happen today or. . .? i just saw you weren't talking like usually do and you were shaking and everything, i just want to make sure your ok."

lexi told her, looking at her as she leaned on the tiled wall opposite of (reader) and waiting to listen to her.

"i'm fine. . ."

(reader) claimed, glancing up at her to see her expression to see lexi's face twisted with concern and want to help her girlfriend. however, her mind was running of thoughts and questions on whether or not she was acting about being concerned, trying to see if there was anything different.

"it's ok if you don't want to talk about it (reader), just know that i'm here for you, ok? i don't want you to suffer alone."

lexi told her girlfriend as (reader)'s eyes glanced back down at her chipped nails again, the nail polish on different sets of fingernails almost being off.

the two stayed in silence for a little before. . .

"do you hate me, lexi?"

(reader) suddenly asked, not wanting to look up and see her reaction, just in case if it was bad.

"no, i don't. . . why?"

"there was this guy in my class and he told me to shut up because my class was getting tired and annoyed of me and i, uh, i kinda started overthinking it. . ."

lexi sighed, still concerned for her girlfriend who was obviously going through a lot at that moment.

"can i hug you?"

(reader) nodded as lexi hugged them, the side of (reader)'s head laying on lexi's shoulder.

"i love you, ok? to the moon and back and nothing's going to change that. no matter what asshole says or what happens, i will always be here no matter what and i’ll always love you for who you are and what you do in life. . .”

lexi told her, pressing a kiss in her hair gently while holding her with her arms wrapped around (reader)‘s waist.

(reader) was smiling at her girlfriend’s words, just staying silent as she silently adored her girlfriend and how sweet she was. her overthinking thoughts died down as lexi comforted her. of course, they didn’t disappear but one thing (reader) knew is that when lexi talked and comforted her, they would go away for so many minutes and give her the calmness she loved and all she knew in those minutes. . .

is that her overthinking was like harsh waves and lexi would calm them.

AUTHORS NOTE, hello again requester!! if you didn’t like this or anything, please let me know so i can edit this post or do a new request but besides that, thank you so much for reading and requesting!! i hope you have a good day or night, goodbye!!

#lexi howard x fem! reader #lexi howard x reader #lexi howard #euphoria x reader #euphoria #euphoria x fem!reader

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gettinshiggywithit · 1 year

Note

Hhiiiii I love ur work !! Can I request for bsd poe with a s/o that's an artist and sometimes likes to draw scenes from his writings and shows him <333

!Poe With An s/o Who’s an artist!

Scenario:- poe with an s/o who draws

Pairing:- Edgar Allan Poe x gn!reader

Genre:- fluff

Type:- Headcanons

A/N:- Hiyaa anon! Thanks for the request! I hope you like it and if you feel comfortable please let me know what you thought abt it!

Poe may call himself a detective,but i think we all know that his ability to create worlds with words is what makes him special

When you first met and he found out you too were an artist(one of the drawing kind) he wanted to know all about your hobby

And naturally you wanted to know about his writing too,especially since it connected to his ability!

After a little time had passed and you’d grown totally comfortable with eachother,you openly shared your art without fearing judgement from either party.

One thing You loved to do was read poe’s work and then draw what had manifested itself in your mind as you read

And when you were done,youd ask him to take you into his story so you could both see how accurate youd gotten.

If you were spot on you’d jump and cheer and poe would find it totally adorable how such a simple thing brought you so much joy😭

But if you missed even a smol thing or if your rendition was completely different,youd want to figure out where it had gone “wrong”

And even though you strived for perfection in your art(its one of the many things you shared in common) poe would make sure to let you know that it was perfect as it was.

Sometimes you contemplated turning his stories into comics

It would be a way to combine both your skills!

And when you finally told poe he agreed (INSIDE,BUDDY WAS JUST WJSIEHEVWGAJBWBEBSBY-ed OUT!HE EVEN RANTED TO KARL ABT HOW HAPPY IT MADW HIM)

You both got to work on a story then

And when i say you both got to work,i mean he wrote it,then you both went and experienced it and afterwards you illustrated your adventure!

Obviously you gave your characters different names,but anyone who knew the two of you,knew that those characters couldn’t be anyone else other than you!

Poe loved that you were able to mix the things that made each of you happy,and he loved how easy it was.how natural it felt.

Poe may have had the ability to draw a reader into the world of a novel,but you were able to draw the world of a novel,out for a reader.

And although your talents were different while also being the same,they both meshed together perfectly.

Much like you had with him

please dont repost my work here as your own on any platform all rights belong to me except that of the characters used,their right belong to their respective owners.but these stories? mine.

feedback,likes,reblogs and comments are so very appreciated tbh :’)i hope you enjoyed and ill catch ya next time!

Comments & Reblogs w/ tags >>>>>>>>>>>likes please

Taglist open for anyone interested!

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saintqueer · 6 months

Note

I'm sorry you got harassed again just from a simple post with a (imo pretty valid) opinion. If that person is the same that answered your post by reblogging and repplying on their blog with unnecessary hate (apparently queer but a solo louie) then it's the one I just blocked. I love to currate my experience in this fandom. Anyway I just wanted to say, I used to love your posts in this fandom! I lost track of your blog and thought you'd disappeard. I'm glad to see you're still on Tumblr and enjoying other fandoms. I'm well aware of how toxic this fandom can get (between the hets, the solos often queer themselves but hating on queer larries and more, to many groups to count tbh, louis' attitude on social media ect), especially when you dare to voice an opinion, which I'm mostly don't lol. I'm staying for the art, the fics, the great memes and ofc the music and the people. You're "y'all" made me think 'I Hope she still got good times and friends out if it. I made some great friends in the larries bunch myself. Anyway sorry for the rant, I lost track of what was my point here. Just was happy to see you pop on my dash through a mutual and wanted to say so I guess?? So once again thank you for the fun times I had reading your posts back in the days; have a great time out here, enjoying your favs fandoms, you do you! Sending love xx

so i was trying to avoid posting any anons regarding prev fandom discourse but i opened this one and read it through and it was just so amazing i had to respond, not just in tags 🥹🥹

of course, it's lovely to hear that you liked my posts on fandom back in the day etc but what really got me was when you wanted to make sure i still got good times and friends out of it, that nearly made me cry

because YEAH I FUCKING DID 🥺😩🥺🥹🥲

blue ( @wastelandbabyblue ) is literally one of the coolest people i've ever known while also being one of the kindest and funniest. id literally kill to meet her one day in person. i still keep up with brenda and several others i met in her og discord, some of which are the only remaining 1d fandom blogs i still follow here - they are so kind and funny and i still talk to them occasionally in a fandom discord i stayed in because i didn't want to lose touch with them.

and 🥹🥹🥹

i met 8 of who i would consider my closest friends in the whole world through fandom. through the most insane wild and unruly fandom discord drama, i literally located my found family: wedo, nino, iza, katja, olia, hanis, chloe, and su

we talk everyday still even though we live all over the world and we talk about nearly everything except fandom nowadays and they've helped me survive living day to day through some of the worst moments of my life. i don't know what i'd do if i didn't have them in my life

last night, i had a bit of a shame spiral thinking about all the time energy money i devoted to the 1d fandom. i felt embarrassed for being so loud about something that ended in so much disappointment. it wasn't fun and i know it was probably triggered by being involved in some discussions i hadn't been in so long

so when i opened this ask, anon, it reminded me so much that whatever was lost from that time, so much more was gained. the embarrassment of remembering dancing around like a fool with a rainbow flag for someone who couldn't even say something as simple as "look at all those colors" pales in comparison to the lifelong friendship i gained with these 8 beautiful women all across the globe

nothing will ever compare to the people i met and the way they feel closer to family than any of my blood ever felt

i'm glad that you found so much goodness as well and thank you for reminding me that it was all worth it for what i got

#anon

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odditycircus-2002 · 1 year

Text

When You and Jimmy Crystal Started Dating

A/N: I hope y'all like my first batch of headcanons! Cause I enjoyed putting them down to metaphorical paper!

(I don't own this image)

As Jimmy assured you when you first met, you and your band passed your audition with his boss! Said boss especially loving the energy you bring to the stage.

Not too long after, a bouquet of flowers was left at your Winnebago, specifically, sunflowers. The same flower as your spiritual and stage namesake. The tag attached to the bouquet read, "Congratulations! I knew you would make the cut xoxox -J.C"

You felt your ears flatten against your head and your face warmer under your bandmate's knowing smirks, knowing exactly who sent the sunflowers and why. Later that evening, you'd slip away from the rest of your band to call Jimmy and have to physically hold down your tail when he answered, hoping he wouldn't be able to hear it over the phone. You thank him for the flowers and say that the rest of your band found them lovely. He gives a chuckle over the phone in response, a sound that causes an invigorating shiver down your spine.

"Those flowers weren't for them, Sunshine."

Jimmy laughed over the phone as you just about died on the spot from how hot your face became.

With Time, you and your band's popularity slowly but indeed started to skyrocket. At the same time, Jimmy also started climbing the corporate ladder, with your band's success being a major factor in helping to promote him. "Taking Back the Spring" performed under the Corporation's agency for some years, making hit after hit, albums that sold like hotcakes, and shows that are closer to being as big and grand as you and your band hoped they would be. Your music and passionate songs captivate audiences and get people to bop their heads along to the beat over the radio.

Often after rehearsals or a show, you'd find bouquets of your favorite flowers in your dressing room, all from one J.C. Flowers that you lovingly replant or find a nice spot for them in your apartment.

Sometimes, when you both have some free time, you and Jimmy would go out to take walks in the park. You're pretty sure none of your bandmates believe you when you say you're just meeting up with Jimmy Crystal for professional reasons. Which is a given since they know it's a lie. You and Jimmy would sometimes get snacks from nearby food stands before sitting under a tree or a park bench. Both of you would talk about anything and everything that comes to mind, mostly blowing off steam when it came to work. For you, it's how nosy your bandmates can sometimes be.

You giggled a bit when Jimmy went into a full-on rant about the morons he has to work with and some of the talentless garbage his boss decided to sponsor. Unknowingly, causing him to send his ice cream flying off its cone.

"I mean, really! Amazingly, the bozo was able to recognize talent when he see it when it came to you and your group, but most of the other acts workin' under him? Garbage, complete garbage!"

"Well, music is subjective like any art form. What you find to be "trash" others might find a treasure trove with."

You giggled a bit when he realized he had no ice cream anymore, much to his chagrin. However, you do offer him your cone, which he takes with an almost inaudible "thank you" licking it, before playfully insulting your taste in treats.

"Jokes on you, now it will forever be the flavor of our first indirect kiss."

This time it was Jimmy's turn to be speechless. He gives your ice cream another lick before admitting that it ain't that bad.

Later when you went back to the Winnebago, you screamed into your pillow.

Other times when you're not spending time together at the park, Jimmy would take you to show you the best shows in the theater or the best places to grab a coffee or pastry. In turn, you show him some activities that you like which include some yoga and meditation that you try to get Jimmy to better maintain his temper. While he does grumble about how it seems dumb, he still participates with you and the rest of your band.

You realize that gift-giving is part of Jimmy's love language when, not too long after you struck up a friendship, he started leaving you more than flowers. Anything you're interested in? He started buying the best quality items related to them. It's no trouble for him at all, money wise much to your never-ending bewilderness. Personally, your favorite gift from him is a soladite crystal pendant. Why? It's because Jimmy gave it to you on your first official date.

A date that entailed you and him watching the hottest and newest musical in time, that left you humming its songs long after leaving the theater. After the musical was dinner at one of the fanciest restaurants you've ever seen and felt a little (much) insecure being in. Yet, Jimmy couldn't keep his eyes off you the entire time. At one point, he reaches out with his paw to cover yours and tell you loud enough for you to hear.

"Darling, you look perfect tonight."

Later, after taking a moonlight-lit walk in the park, you ended up back at your apartment. Although, neither you nor Jimmy wanted to end the night right then and there.

A lightbulb seemed to light up in your head as you quickly put on one of your vinyl and invited Jimmy to dance, who happily obliges. Not too surprisingly, Jim-Jam has some moves of his own to show you, swaying you both fluidly around with expert elegance and grace. Eventually, you're just left swaying and moving slowly in each other's arms as the last song is coming to an end.

You're resting your head on his chest and Jimmy holds you close by the small of your back and hip, before moving to look up at the white wolf. His crystal blue eyes always captivated you, but now they melt your heart.

"Thanks for the wonderful date, Jim."

"Not a problem, Y/N"

You don't know who exactly leaned in first, although Jimmy fervently claims it was you, you then find your and Jimmy's noses touching one another. The nose touching then dissolved into kissing on the lips, next into some kissing and nipping on the neck. Finally, you're left as a love-sick puddle as Jimmy then bids you goodnight.

At some point, rumors and speculation about your band's more love-centric songs started to form, specifically about if any of the songwriters (including you) wrote them with a certain someone special in mind. Eventually, you were asked directly on Hot News during an interview.

"So Sunny, could you please answer a teeny tiny question that we've all been dying to know the answer to? Who did you, if anyone, have in mind when writing your latest song?"

"That's quite a question to make there Lyla. I'd say if he is watching right now, the answer is crystal clear."

You give an earnest smile and a wink into the camera, not knowing miles away Jimmy is watching this interview with his mouth slightly agape and his tail wagging.

Why didn't you just admit who you're seeing or interested in public? Because you and Jimmy agreed to keep your personal lives outside of your careers private. No need to have nosy reporters bothering you or your band every minute of every day. Plus, Jimmy is still building his career and doesn't just want to be known as your arm candy.

Speaking of his career, when he got to the point he could quit his old job and start his own enterprise, he asked you, your band, and a cat named Jerry if you want to come work for him. While you and Jerry were immediately on board, it took a bit of convincing for the rest of your band including having more creative control and freedom.

Their hesitance was born of how they've seen how Mr. Crystal can be cantankerous when not in front of his boss or any cameras, demanding perfection from everyone that worked under him. Literally barking orders or barking when someone gets a small thing wrong.

Yet, you assured your band, and your friends, how that's because of how his ex-boss expected a lot out of him and put a lot of workload on him. That and you're helping Jimmy manage that anger with some meditation and light exercise. Which has been working if you say so yourself. Jerry vouched that this is true.

While having some reservations, your bandmates eventually came around to working for Mr.Crysal's upcoming Crystal Entertainment.

A little over a year after "Taking Back Spring" switched agencies, Jimmy Crystal would pop another question to you. Right on your dating anniversary.

Playlist while writing this:

"Sway" by Michael Buble

"Higher" by Michael Buble

"Night Eyes" by the Orion Experience

"Can't help falling in Love" by Elvis Presley

"Just the Way You Are" by Bruno Mars

"Singing in the Rain" by Gene Kelly

"Take on Me" by A-Ha

"Knock Knock" by Lenka

"Sugar" by The Orion Experience

"Roll with Me" by The Orion Experience

"Perfect" by Ed Sheeran

"Love me Like you Do" by Ellie Goulding

#Sing 2 #sing 2 jimmy crystal #Sing #Sing movie #Jimmy Crystal #Sing headcannons #reader insert #x reader #Jimmy Crystal x reader #my writing #dating headcanons #dating hcs

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fangirlmedstudentblog · 1 year

Text

As today is the last MSP frigay, I'm feeling a lot emotional and wanted to thank all the lovely lovely people who's posts made watching this each week very very enjoyable.

It's a heartfelt thanks from me to all of you on the msp tag for posting your thoughts and ramblings out for us to enjoy and made the 10 weeks (i started watching a few days before ep3 aired) waiting for each new episode bearable.

Special shout-out to @butdotheykiss who I befriended because of both of us watching MSP and started talking to each other because of one chain of comments on someone else's post where they were worried about what the episode would entail and i responded. You've been a constant friend through all these weeks with both of us yelling at each other over shows we watch.

Due to us being in opposite timezones, I've enjoyed seeing your ramblings about the episode when i wake up and you have to bear me yelling about the show as it airs even when you're not able to watch it until later.

I've really enjoyed bonding with you over all of fandom ramblings, over you tolerating all of my LoL and study ramblings and rants. And us cooing over first, fourth and gemini and so many of the other actors we like. Hope we remain friends for a long time even after MSP ends, love ya 😘

Also I'll take this chance to thank those whose posts I've enjoyed reading all these weeks for msp and now moonlight chicken (I'm pretty sure I'm forgetting many of you, because I'm just that bad at remembering urls) but it's to everyone who posts on the msp and mlc tags y'all made my dash awesome

@petrichoraline @ashedddaisy @bengiyo @shortpplfedup @justafriend-ql @gunsatthaphan @rythyme @lost-my-sanity1 @heretherebedork @quodekash @fandomfairyuniverse @respectthepetty @himbodelamain @laowen @wen-kexing-apologist @distant-screaming @sunsetandthemoon @tinngun @chinzillas @trilliastra @earthpirapat @studypartners @jaehwany

#my school president #tinngun #saw this on my dash here and my tl on twt #so decided to do it here because i was more active here anyways #but THANK YOU TO EVERYONE POSTING ON THE MY SCHOOL PRESIDENT TAG #soundwin

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acacia-may · 23 days

Note

Let’s pour some salt together, Acacia~!/lh 💖

If it’s not too much trouble, can I ask #7 generally, #10 for Fairy Tail and Black Clover, and finally #25 for Demon Slayer?

It’s several questions and a bit all over the pl s so I hope you don’t mind… 😅

Cheers, Erika! 🥂 Thanks for the chance to get a little bit salty about so many different things! ^^

Necessary disclaimer above the cut: These are just my own personal opinions based on my personal tastes, perceptions, and feelings regarding the series, stories, and characters and their relationships. I genuinely have the utmost respect and absolutely no ill will towards anyone who has a different opinion than me. In fact, I have always said that one of the greatest things about fandom is that we can all experience and perceive these amazing stories and characters in very different ways but still love them. Even some of my dearest fandom friends enjoy different pairings than me or see our shared favorite characters in wildly different ways than I do. I personally find it very rewarding to have respectful conversations about our differences of opinion, and I hope that my opinions will also be respected. Also, I don't vibe with just mindless bashing things, so even though this is about to get very salty and a little snarky, I'll try to keep it respectful and all in good fun. I am not tagging anything and am hiding my thoughts under the cut so you all don't have to be subjected to my hot takes and "Salty Acacia," if you don't want.

MAJOR Spoilers for Demon Slayer below the cut. You've been warned.

7. Is there anything you used to like but can’t stand now?

ATTACK ON TITAN/SNK. My sister says I need a swear jar because I can just rant for hours about how I was just so personally, viscerally disappointed with how that series ended (made all the worse because I had several years of investment in it). As a disclaimer, I still like my favorite characters and the side story "No Regrets" will always be **Chef's Kiss** but yeah...you could not pay me to watch or read it ever again.

But again, disclaimer, that's just me. It's my cousin's favorite anime of all time, and he loved the ending. Everyone's different.

As for anything else from fandoms I actually talk about...I'm not sure there is anything. Like everyone with an online presence, I have definitely been disturbed, appalled, and otherwise very upset by things I've seen on the internet, but that's what the block button is for (and I know it's all peace, love, & good vibes around here, but I block aggressively, actively, and unapologetically when the situation warrants it). As a general rule though, I try not to let what other people think get to me and ruin the things I love, and in that way, I don't think I have ever had a situation where something was just completely 100% ruined for me by a terrible fic, toxic fandom, or anon hatred ect. ect. I have certainly distanced myself from certain pairings and certain fandoms because of that, but I wouldn't say any of them have ever reached the level of "I can't stand it now." If anything, I sometimes feel a little contrary and dig my heels in on that thing in a petty revenge, "Well in that case, I'll just like this more" kind of way, if that makes sense?

All of that said, I have no patience for nasty, toxic fandom environments, and I stay away from those even if it's a media I really like i.e. you mentioned MHA in one of your salty asks...I wrote my one platonic friendship fic and got the hell outta there (nothing bad happened to me but it just wasn't worth it to take any chances). But that doesn't mean I don't enjoy it in real life and sometimes talk about it with my sisters and irl friends. I just don't want to discuss it online. It's not worth the headache & drama.

I definitely get fandom fatigue sometimes where the aggressiveness and toxicity of the fans of a certain pairing or character I already don't like just intensifies my dislike for that thing. But that's really only ever happened with things I already don't like or don't have an opinion on at all, which I don't think that really fits the prompt here.

10. Most disliked arc? Why?

Fairy Tail: The anime-only Celestial Spirit Arc by a landslide. It was so boring and had so many pacing issues. I literally fell asleep during it and didn't even both going back. I'm also super bitter towards that arc because my sister got so bored during it that she quit the anime (right before getting the best arc Tartaros). I keep begging her to pick it up again and just skip the stupid Celestial Spirit Arc but she swears she is a completionist and would never be able to do it. So yeah. Can't stand that one! The only positive thing I could remotely say about it was that Levy on the game show was kind of entertaining, but overall the whole arc was kind of just like a boring bizarre dream I'd like to forget about.

For arcs that appeared in both the anime and manga, I really didn't like that flute arc (which a google search has informed me is actually called the "Eisenwald Arc"). I'm glad we got Gray and Erza introduced as characters, but the arc had a lot of pacing issues and just went on for way too way, imo. They could've wrapped things up a lot faster, also I just didn't get the whole "evil flute" thing--it was really random and kind of bizarre (also not the most well thought out plan in the world). I will say this arc gets more points than the Celestial Spirit Arc because my sister and I had so much fun making Kokushibo flute jokes.

Black Clover: Gotta go with the anime only arc here too because again, it was boring and didn't have a lot of bearing on the series as a whole. It also felt like a major let down after the high stakes of the Elf Arc. Honestly just not a fan of that one.

If I had to pick a manga arc...uh...I honestly don't know. Maybe the Sosshi village arc? But only because I thought it was better in the anime where they really took the time to flesh out Magna's backstory. It felt more rushed in the manga, but I don't dislike it as much as that anime only one.

If I can pick a character arc, freaking FINRAL'S!! Like what happened here?! It was so, so good...until it wasn't. I JUST CAN'T WITH THE AMOUNT OF REGRESSION. It makes me want to beat my head against the wall even more than he is! But I think this was about story arcs, not characters arc so I'll refrain from ranting here.

25. Would you change the ending of Demon Slayer?

This is kind of a complicated one. My sister and I were just talking about this because she feels there was too much character death, but I feel it was a justified and appropriate amount for the high stakes of the series (even if it was devastating). So for the sake of this discussion, let's assume that the author had a "character death quota" (or a set number of characters who were going to be killed off by the end of the series). If that was the case, I would have axed Uzui at the end of the Entertainment District Arc and saved Genya in the final arc.

If there was a believable/reasonable way that Muichiro could have gone into god-mode and defeated Kokushibo without dying, I would have saved him too, having Uzui take his "death slot." Then I would have saved Genya by having Sanemi die to protect him (which would have been a much more satisfying ending to his arc, in my opinion).

As sad as the other deaths were (*weeps about ObaMitsu*) Muichiro and Genya were children. While it's realistic for them to die, it's especially tragic, and if I got to rewrite the ending, I would prioritize saving them.

Though to be perfectly fair, I would have been much happier with the ending if Uzui had died in the Entertainment District Arc and any of our heroes who died in the final battle survived instead. I'll forever be salty that Uzui of all people somehow managed to survive to the end when so many others did not, especially since his arc had already wrapped up and him dying in the Entertainment District would have been a satisfying conclusion to his story whereas so many other characters who did get axed had storylines that felt unfinished (Genya especially).

Also, Himejima should have played the flute at Kokushibo causing him to lose his cool in the infinity castle so much faster. I'm really upset this didn't happen. (Kidding but I would’ve loved to see him just go completely unhinged over the flute. I make way too many Kokushibo flute jokes…)

#salty acacia #salty asks #there will be no more tags #please don't hurt me

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mindyourownbiscuitss · 4 months

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Fans of GD have this idea of who she, this grand person, but she was human and very flawed. Nothing wrong with that but both the character and her fans don't seem to realize this. If she did not get her way, she didn't want it. She had the love and the support but SHE choose to walk away, what happens after she left is not others fault.

Also, I agree with you, let people enjoy what they want. One, these are fictional characters, so to get pressed and angry over a fictional world is ridiculous. Two, it's not hard to ignore and scroll on by. Let people enjoy what they want, don't be an @ss about it. To those angry (both in CF and PD) talk about your ships favorite scenes or moments with your own fandom. Believe me, its more fun to talk about things you love than things that make you angry.

*Sorry to go off in your asks but I'm just so annoyed with some people in the fandom.

The thing that really pisses me off as far as the D@wsey of it all, is that most of their fans are also fans of Upste@d and see no issue with the hypocrisy of Halstead being able to move on but not Casey. They like to bring up "girl code" as if it actually matters. Maybe if Gabby didn't do what she did to both Casey and Brett, as far as leaving and not keeping in touch (especially with Brett), and generally being an awful wife and best friend at the end, it'd be different. These same people that love Gabby hate Erin for doing practically the same thing to Halstead. Gabby was worse, imo, because she was married! So, how exactly is it fair for Halstead to move on but not Casey? I don't give a damn if it's only because Gabby and Brett were supposed "best friends". They're not anymore, and probably never really were. Kidd and Foster (god do I miss Foster, even if I love Violet) are her actual best friends. Like I said, I don't hate Gabby, and I wish the writers knew how to write characters off without ruining them (though I think them writing Gabby off the way they did was because Haas was trying to convince Monica to stay until the very last minute), but her fans drive me insane. Also, this rant may be because Twitter (fuck X) now doesn't block the tweets of people you block anymore and I see the toxic side of that fandom again.

And thank you! I might be ranting in general here, but I've never once said anything to anyone about who they ship, even if I'm not a fan of that ship. I never will. How hard it is to not go into the tags of other ships and talk shit and actually tweet directly at those shippers? I feel for them, but when I thought Brettsey had no hope, I stayed away from Fire and read fanfic. It was a much more pleasant experience not interacting with something that mad me sad, or mad.

Feel free to rant and talk all you want about it! This is my outlet for that because no one else watches Fire that I know besides my parents. My mom isn't that invested anymore and my dad likes everything no matter how bad it gets, lmao.

#brettsey #ask #anon #anonymous

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calebs-hangout-corner · 3 months

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(Long happy/?? rant incoming. Sorry, I just saw your account and had to talk to someone about this)

Ough. I've been thinking about when I read the original The Ghost Next Door book and it honest-to-God changed my mind or something because no book I've read so far is as of high reputation in my mind as that. Maybe it was because I was younger and hadn't read as much, but I have had it in my head for like a month now to Get That Book for myself. My school library has like twenty or so of the books but not that one!! When I saw the Goosebumps collection I was like "NO WAYYYY" but then I got really disappointed when it wasn't there. I need to ask the librarian if they can get it LOL.

Anyway, I remembered it again after going through a nostalgia blog and I searched the tag. Lo and behold, there was your blog! I don't remember any of the other plots very well (from the ones I read; the bookshelf where I originally read it was TINY and barely ever had GB books), nor any of the characters aside from Hannah and Danny, but nevertheless I'm enjoying your Goosebumps art and content a lot. Btw your art style is awesome. :D

I'm now desperate to find somewhere to watch the original 90's show. I've seen it's on Google Play or whatever and Microsoft, but I need to look into that. Help is appreciated, if you know where.

But I guess my question is: what books do you recommend? I like both the standard and the choose your own adventure ones (idk if there are any others). I read/started reading The Haunted Mask, The Werewolf of Fever Swamp, Welcome to Camp Nightmare, The Ghost Next Door (duh), Let's Get Invisible, Monster Blood, The Cuckoo Clock of Doom, The Girl Who Cried Monster (I think. That's the one where the guy eats the bugs or whatever, right?), Escape From Camp Run-for-Your-Life, You Can't Scare Me, Scream of the Evil Genie and/or Be Careful What You Wish For (one of them, lol, maybe both. I think it involved a cola can?).

Any suggestions would be appreciated! Thanks for reading this long-as-hell ask and also thank you if you respond! Obviously, no pressure. Hope you have a great week and good things come your way!

P.S., you got me to start listening to the Goosebumps the Musical: Phantom of the Auditorium soundtrack and it's so good.

-👻🪐 (I hope emoji anons are okay, just in case there's a follow-up ask or something)

Hello!!! This message is very sweet and I had fun reading it, thank you! I'm sorry it took me a day to respond, I was a little busy!

I hope you're successful in finding the book. My library has the opposite problem: It has no books except Ghost Next Door (germany doesn't really sell them anymore, so they're hard to come by, even in libraries). Also, all the Goosebumps episodes you can find on YouTube somewhere! There's many reuploads of them.

As for books I'd recommend, you've already read a few of the ones I really like! But if you need more my favorites you haven't read from the series' you mentioned liking include:

- Phantom of the Auditorium (but like the book version! Very good, very fun, really emphasises the "the gang shares one braincell" part)

- Werewolf Skin

- Calling All Creeps

- Night of the Living Dummy 1 and 2, I've heard the third is good too but that one actually didn't manage to hold my attention, but maybe it will for you!

- Welcome To Dead House (This one's fun)

- Piano Lessons Can Be Murder (I just think it's neat)

- A Night In Terror Tower (Again, I just think it's neat!!), This one also has a "Give Yourself Goosebumps" sequel book "Return To Terror Tower) I recommend aswell!

- Beware, The Snowman!

As for the Give Yourself Goosebumps books I'm like "Please Don't Feed The Vampire"

Those are the books I'm fond of. It's a bit of a list, I hope you don't mind!

#goosebumps #burtle screms

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allieebobo · 10 months

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holyshitholyshitholyshit allie THE MIND ON YOU!!! THE NEW UPDATE OF MERRY CRISIS IS SO GOOD!!!!

[SPOILERS]

The whole Thing with Qiu?????? Delicious. The Incident flashback was so good, u nailed the tension and the anxiety of the scene so well that I audibly yelled 'FUCK' when qiu's mom opened the door lol. Also I love the option to go on a long rant about how much MC loves qiu like thats a straight up marriage vow type stuff the MC said. ALSO THE REUNION SCENE???? QIU YOU HOT PIECE OF ASS YOU. Like, I was gonna say yes right away anyway honey but keep begging we love to see it 😌 also, also, the line:

"You can see [them] wonder how much to ask for, and you find yourself wondering how much to give."

IS MY FAVORITE LINE. HELLO??? THE HESITANCE??? I LOVE.

Half way reading the qiu flashback I had a realization that the whole thing is just Taylor Swift's 'You're Losing Me'

"Do something, babe, say something. Lose something, babe, risk something (Youre losing me). Choose something, babe, I got nothing to believe. Unless, you're choosing me."

LIKE IF THAT AINT MC AND QIU--

Also Joony, I love you. Thats it. Thats the tweet.

HAHAH oh my goodness, thank youuu!! Bruh you just made my day, week, month, [insert indefinite span of time here].

Really wanted to tell you (and all the other folks sending in asks!) how much your messages help renew my faith that I put out a chapter that folks'll enjoy!

Alright, more spoilery things down below the cut, though I hope that those who haven't read the update yet haven't gone ahead and read the ask!

(I'm actually holding back on the asks with no spoiler tag up top, so I'm trying to be... somewhat nice, but let me know if I should hold off on all of them before Sunday!)

I'm very happy that you enjoyed the tension during the Incident.

And oh, absolutely! Stan an MC who just wants to see Qiu squirm.

Also thank you for reminding me of that line, it is pretty good HAHA, guess sometimes I come up with some good shit :P

Heh, I liked giving MC little chances to declare their feelings for Qiu (and Nat/Shay too) in the update, so I'm glad you enjoyed that too.

Finally, yes, I'm with you on that front—here's to friends like Joony!

+ Oh I actually have never heard that Taylor swift song before, so thank you for the rec! It truly IS exactly like that charged moment between MC and Qiu (and everything's falling apart). Amazing.

(Honestly Taylor seems like she's had a lot of experience with this sort of thing e.g. August/All too well, etc.)

#if #asks #interactive fiction #merry crisis #Qiu #Joony #The Incident #SPOILERS

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narcissa-black-supermacy · 1 year

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mutuals you’re thankful for in 2022?

(I even did it on anon for you!!!)

thank you DEAR ANONYMOUS FRIEND whose identity i totally do not know lmao because its not like i asked you to send this to me whattt that would be embarrassing

here we go (in no particular order, this is the way it shows up in my following list)

@fonkeloog : thanks for going along with my nonsense and being open minded and supportive about everything i do even if it's not your thing. love seeing you in my notifications, always <3 your poems and photography are everything, i sincerely wish you all the success with that in 2023. here's to another wonderful year of football and memri memes and kilt smut and complete discord chaos.

@heartofspells : holliiiiiii where do i even begin. meeting you this year has been a fandom changing experience, truly. i love everything you create even if sometimes it makes me cry and kick things. i hope things get less hectic for you this year so you can rain on us with more angst and poetic porn. thank you for letting me rant and brainstorm ideas and you're always welcome to dump your thoughts on me whenever <3 i never don't enjoy hearing those. hope we get to spit even more this year together.

@tracingpatternswrites : mallllll my LOVE. i think you're my fandom soulmate. everything you write makes me lose my mind and i care about all your pieces as if they're my own. thank you for being the push and support i needed to explore new things and pairings this year (here's to more threesomes and incest in the upcoming year ahaha). ALSO. we should. totally co-write something this year. something horrific and ground shattering. (once i'm done with all my oneshots). the internet would never recover.

@soloorganaas : bestieeee. what do i even say? you're literally like the only one of two and a half people in total on this website (one of them being me lol) whom i trust blindly and completely with our boys and with wolfstar in particular. it either takes us 13 business days to get back to each other or we can talk for 3 hours straight non-stop. we should do more things like hanukka wolfstar this year. push our (correct) agendas in this fandom. co-writing something with you one day would be the dream. maybe sometime this year?

@sweetpeasandlilies : bruh with the amount of stuff you've been through this past year i'm surprised you're still on tumblr akjdgh so HUGE respect for that seriously. i'm still blocked by like 27 people because of you lmao but good riddance i guess. ain't nobody gonna stop us. i live for your writing and for your shitposts. honestly. its everything.

@padfootastic : dude what can i say?? a breathe of fresh fucking air is what you are on this hellsite. and i know you're busy as hell these days but seeing you on here and your ideas and your writing (and your tagsss bruh your tags i read all of those just so yknow) is one of the things keeping me from losing my mind in here. if we had fandom elections i would vote you in as the authority on everything james potter and sirius black. i trust no one but you.

@mxlfoydraco : serra <3333 i live for your tags. you put drarry and amazing (actually diverse) fanart and Correct Opinions on our dashes and i love you for that. this place would not have been the same without you. fandom is alive and flourishing thanks to people like you who comment and give reccs and keep older fics and fanarts alive (and ship jegulus without disrespecting Sirius the MVP Black) and i couldn't be more grateful. please keep blessing us with your presence and the legendary Queue.

@leogichidaa : your writing is honestly ground breaking, and the limitless creativity of your genius ideas never fails to amaze me. if i had to hire a team of writers for a canon marauders story, you would be the first on that list - we need more people who do reg and the others justice with their writing. i can't wait to see what else you will bless us with this upcoming 2023 <33

@artemisia-black : it's hard being a person with Correct Opinions(tm) on a site like tumblr in a fandom like the marauders but you are doing AMAZING. please never stop writing what you write and talking about the Blacks, people like you and your metas are the backbone of this fandom. wish i could make everyone sit down and read those before they touch our precious characters.

@sequinhaze : yazz! very excited and honoured to be calling you a mutual tbh, after i've been stalking your blog and writing forever now lol. you are Wrong about prongsfoot but i forgive you for that because you're Right about literally everything else and that's so much more important to me. i selfishly hope that you never stop writing for this fandom because you offer such a refreshing take on most characters and your characterisation is always on point. ily. wishing you peace and happiness this upcoming year (and wishing myself loads of unbreakable heaven porn w feelings).

@broomsticks : jackieeee you're one of the rare people in this fandom who is completely open minded to new ideas and dynamics, and is the definition of a multi-shipper. i don't think i know one single other person on this hellsite who likes both remadora and wolfstar and blackcest and peter and snape and isn't afraid to talk about it. alsoo! your tagging system. duude. i wish my blog looked like that wtf.

@elvendorx : (i forgot what your main blog is sorryyy) - we didn't really get a chance to interact much yet but i just wanted to let you know that your metas on the mwpp in general and james and sirius in particular are absolutely golden and i appreciate them so much. wish i could make it a legal requirement to fully read and sign those before anybody so much as thinks of writing about j&s. looking forward to more of you in 2023.

@roalinda : thank you for putting prongsfoot on my dash <33 we desperately lack content for them and even the blogs that do post about them are usually still centric around a different ship. we need more people like you honestly. and i looove your additions in the tags, always read those.

@squintclover : rorryyyyy <33 your microfics and your writing are everything. i love it. always appreciate seeing you on my dash. i hope we get more chances to interact this upcoming year and i can't wait to find out what you've got in store for us.

@benjamin-ovich : i just want to thank you for writing what is one of the most amazing and heart breaking prongsfoot masterpieces i've ever read. i still need to leave a proper comment on that which is not just me screaming incoherently but just know that i've gone back several times to reread some parts. especially the first chapter and the memories. ((the scene where sirius tries to roughly "fuck lily out of him" lives in my head rent free. literally. one of the hottest prongsfoot scenes in existence wtf)).

#thats it #i think??#oh gosh im really hoping im not forgetting anyone #i love yall <3333 #thanks for making this fandom a better place #asks

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