#my masterpost… the playlist… some answered asks in my drafts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stephofromcabin12 · 6 months

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Masterpost:

All the links you might want/need for the best Little Camper experience :>

I do not consent to my art or writing being reposted, including uploading it to lore.fm and similar platforms. If you wish to use my art for something, please reach out and ask permission!

READ LITTLE CAMPER HERE: 🍇

News:

6/5/24 Little Camper chapter IX pt I, II, added on ao3 🚨

‼️ (2/5/24) Caroline Wynnes, mother of C&P, mood playlist added ‼️

Contents:

Info

Status update

Playlists

Q&A/Frequently asked questions

INFO:

A03: Painfullypisces

Tiktok: Frogbeemakesart

Instagram: bettyames.art

Artblog: @

Spotify: AMES

(Commissions paused!)

Status:

Little Camper: Writing/Editing [PUBLISHED]

READ LITTLE CAMPER HERE: 🍇

LC Sidestory 1 [revising]

LC Sidestory 2 [drafting]

A guide to the cabins at Camp Halfbood: Writing pt II [Published]

The Demigod Files II: Writing/editing [Not yet published]

LC Word count: 36K on ao3 (~100k in doc)

PLAYLISTS:

Little Camper:

Official Little Camper Soundtrack: 🫒

About the playlist: A (mostly) time accurate soundtrack consisting of mostly popular music in the years 1998-2009. Some are from earlier years. The playlist also (mostly) is chronological, so it follows the whole arc of the story. Have fun trying to solve the mysteries within, Athena kids ;)

Could You Be Quiet? I'm Trying To Read: 📖

About the playlist: Sometimes while both reading and writing, I find that listening to music with lyrics is distracting. To combat that, I made a playlist of soundtrack instrumentals. It used to be my writing playlist for Little Camper, so it has all the music that helped inspire the writing on it (all of it that is without lyrics, that is) and is intended to be listened to when you're reading Little Camper but have grown fatigued with the 2000's party bangers.

Mikrí Eliá Character playlist: 🍇

About the playlist: In celebration of Little Camper being out, this playlist asks the question: "What would Stephanie's life sound like, according to Stephanie?" and the answer is: "Vibes, Vibes and nothing but Vibes" (Some of these also contain eastereggs)

Castor and Pollux playlist: ♊️

About the playlist: Nothing but vibes (its what they would’ve wanted)

(New!) Caroline Wynnes’ Playlist: 🧵

About the playlist: All the vinyls she played during that “short moment of domestic bliss”

Mr D playlist: 🍷

About the playlist: Mr D has a lot of time on his hands. Might as well mess around with the age old magick known as “making a mixtape” - expect divorced dad energy and maybe a few easter eggs (bc the gods are like that)

Rhonda’s CD player: 📀

About the playlist: Rhonda’s powerful 90’s teen mom anthems for a woman who got it together*

*She does not have it together

Summer at Whitland Vineyards playlist: 🌾

The tunes that run through the fields and stucco like water from meemaw’s rosebushes

Christmas at Whitland - A Little Camper Christmas Playlist: 🎄

About the playlist: Exactly what it says on the tin. Ever wanted to spend the holidays at North Carolina's biggest, oldest, very fictional Vineyard: Whitland? Well here's your chance to! Sit back, close your eyes and let the nostalgic christmas tunes carry you away to the winery. Smell the mulled wine. Hear the people chatting. Meemaw's made cookies and they're shaped like christmas trees. Come on in and warm up.

Cabin 12's Psychological Warfare Mixtape: 💽

About the playlist: Listen at your own risk. Guaranteed to drive romans (and others) into madness in record time.

The Cabins:

All the playlists were made based on how I think the cabins 'sound' in terms of aesthetic, themes, instrumentation and various lyrics that strike me as particularly 'cabin xyz'

(Hera doesn't get one as they're made to match "A guide to the cabins at Camp Halfblood" – sorry Hera)

Cabin 1: Zeus

Cabin 3: Poseidon

Cabin 4: Demeter

Cabin 5: Ares

Cabin 6: Athena

Cabin 7: Apollo

Cabin 8: Artemis

Cabin 9: Hephaestus

Cabin 10: Aphrodite

Cabin 11: Hermes

Cabin 12: Dionysus

Cabin 13: Hades

Cabin 14: Iris

Cabin 15: Hypnos

Cabin 16: Nemesis

Cabin 17: Nike

Cabin 18: Hebe

Cabin 19: Tyche

Cabin 20: Hecate

Trials of Apollo reread playlists:

THE Lester Papadopoulos playlist: 🏹

Meg Mcaffrey you will always be famous playlist: 🌱

Frequently Asked Questions/Q&A:

"What is Little Camper?"

Little Camper is a Percy Jackson fanfic, spanning the years 2002-2009. It follows Stephanie Olive Overbaum as she navigates life as a young demigod, which turns out to be more difficult than expected, due to the uprising of Kronos and campers turning to his side to fight the gods. It's a coming of age story mainly focused on the themes of Family, Mythology, Friendship and, well, War.

"Will Little Camper be canon compliant?"

Yes! and no!

I am trying to keep it as consistent with canon as possible, however the story includes original characters I made up (because most of the campers we know and love are too young to have been at camp since 2002. Don't worry they begin to trickle in as time goes on) as well as some minor deviations from the plot and slight changes in relationships and ages.

The ages are mostly because Rick never really specified them, so I kind of just tweaked a couple of characters' ages by one or two years, nothing drastic. You probably won't even notice it, because it's not really that important to the plot, in the first place – merely a logistical thing. It is fanfiction, though, so there are bound to be things that will be based on my own headcanons and ideas that popped into my head while reading these amazing books. On that note, I've tried to steer clear of other people's headcanons, just because I don't want to accidentally incorporate someone else's ideas and not be able to give credit bc I've lost track of the original post, so if you've sent me headcanons it's very much appreciated, and I can't wait to read them when I'm done writing (probably years from now, considering the pace I'm going) and if you see something in Little Camper that aligns with someone else's headcanons that is completely unintentional.

"Is it going to be written like the pjo books?"

Kinda? It is written in the third person, so probably closer to HOO than PJO. I don't care for reading first person fanfiction personally (unless it's used for a really good reason), so it'd be pretty odd for me to write it. Also I might as well disclaim that I can never be Rick Riordan lol

Instead I've settled for keeping the general tone and feel of the books in Little Camper. So no (explicit) swearing etc. But hopefully at the very least some of the humor will come through, even if it's with my own twist on it.

"Is Stephanie a self-insert"

No. While I have nothing against self-inserts, Stephanie isn't one. She's intended to be an original character, in the traditional sense that she's original (ie. Not part of canon) but she isn't a stand-in for anyone, except maybe the reader of the story–So that would be you. But not moreso than Percy is meant to be a stand in for the reader through his story. We follow Stephanie and get her perspective on it. She isn't meant to be anyone, other than just Steph.

Whether an author is ever truly separated from a character they make and whether we give them traits from our own lives etc is always a fun debate to have but to clear things up: Yeah I probably *did* give her a couple things here and there that were, more or less, inspired by me–Nothing major, because I'm a big fan of subtetly when constructing characters, I'm pretty sure her preferance for collecting jewelry, despite rarely wearing it, came from me? but we're talking that level of reference.

She did start off as a joke, after all, so she had some pretty "interesting" traits and skills in the early beginnings of Little Camper. For example, there was an early draft of her character sheet that mentioned she plays the drums. Why? Because I've always wanted to play the drums. But that's a thing of the past.

"What do you mean Stephanie started as a joke?"

What an excellent question, totally real person asking all these questions who is not just me, trying to infodump and provide context for the story I'm writing!

You see, Little Camper is a joke. Or it's one of those things that started off as a 'hahah wouldn't it be funny if...' inside jokes between me and my friend, Sofie, who also beta-reads (when she has time), acts as professional 'idea-bounce-backer' and ensures the quality of my work is above 'unreadable'. Basically she got me into pjo and I got sucked in, as I always have been, and decided I'd make a lil guy– a little camper, if you will. And thus Stephanie was born sometime between my first read of book one and three. I'm pretty sure I made her between the first two books but I don't remember exactly. I know it was before book 4, because I proudly showed off her picrew (see below)

and very basic character sheet to Sof with the promise of making Stephanie my first ever oc who wasn't going to be traumatised and have a tragic backstory and all that jazz...

And then I read The Battle Of The Labyrinth and that really derailed everything. Canon event for cabin 12 kids, I'm afraid.

But she really started off as a bit of a joke. I didn't take her very seriously and it definitely showed in her design, her backstory and the silly nick-names I gave her grandparents. If you're curious about this 'early-prototype' Steph I can reveal she had a clowncore phase, was obsessed (with a capital O) with 90's cartoons a la spongebob, played the drums and had zero idea what to do with her life, bouncing from part time jobs like a disney channel character. She worked at zoo's, bookstores, restaurants, schools, icecream shops– anywhere you can imagine a miserable teenager biding their time, Stephanie had worked a month or two before quitting because 'it wasn't the right fit'. Oh and Rhonda was based on ghibli mothers. Still is, deep down, she just got better development.

And no. I didn't intend for it to be named Little Camper, and arguably far too silly name for what it ended up being. Never. Ever. Give your early projects a placeholder name. It sticks.

"What about Stephanie now? What can you tell me--without spoilers-- about her?"

I am working on polishing all my oc's character sheets. I made it as a mini 'demigod files' - yk - age, name, place of birth, favorite song etc and she's featured there. But for the sake of answering the question:

This

Is Stephanie Olive Overbaum.

Fast facts:

From North Carolina, USA. Born to Rhonda Overbaum on September 15th, 1991. Rhonda was 19 and had just started her business as a wedding planner.

Family Meemaw (Debbie) and Peepaw (Christopher sr.) Overbaum own Whitland Vineyards, which is the oldest and largest of it's kind in the state of North Carolina. Possibly the entire south, but that's too long to write on their postcards. Other family includes Jeremy, Rhonda's brother, his wife Jennifer and their two children: Christopher jr (called simply 'Topher' by the family) and Maisie.

Noticeable physical traits: Stephanie has two scars that you might notice. The most prominent is the one on her lips. She got that bc she'd seen a cartoon character picking his teeth with it and decided to try it with a steak knife. Don't do that. It went very wrong. The other one is less noticeable. She got that fighting a monster but I really can't say more (ooh suspense!)

Hobbies include: Drawing (poorly), not dying, eating, watching cartoons, swordfighting, music (listening= well, playing=poorly), theatre (assigned theatre kid by godly parentage), playing pinochle, not dying.

Fav food: Anything and everything italian. Partial to bread in all it's forms, preferably either just plain or with camp's strawberry jam.

Fav beverage: Coke. Full fat. Not diet.

Powers: [REDACTED]

"How long is Little Camper– And why is it taking so darn long to write it?"

Currently I have a little over 50.000 words written to be edited down, polished and published. That's mostly the first year of Little Camper (the story is parted up into 'years' for an easier overview and each part is a collection of chapters taking place within that year ie. Year one is 2002. The chapters in year one span from June-December. Other years vary the months more). I tried to do the math based on the chapters I have planned (if an average chapter is 4000 words max, and I have x chapters planned), and it came out to be around 260.000 words. And that's simply an estimate. Will it actually be that long? Maybe, maybe not–That really depends on what it gets boiled down to when I edit it. Also some chapters I have planned might not end up being published, if I change my mind about them as I go along. But I have the general story planned from start to finish, and a little extra on the side, so there will be no abandoning the project, even if it takes a while to finish.

Why it takes so long is due to several things. For one, I'm not a fast writer. I never have been and I don't really think I'd like to be one. I like sinking my teeth into a story if it means it gets to be the best it can be. Another reason is that I, like so many other people who felt seen by and related to the Percy Jackson books, have adhd. And until extremely recently, I was undiagnosed, and unmedicated. I'm still figuring out how to work with my adhd rather than work how I used to assume I 'had' to work. Then there's the fact that I don't have all the time in the world to write, even if I'd like it. I work and I have other hobbies I'd like to spend time on, so writing doesn't always come first for me. I'm really sorry if you're getting impatient, It's probably not going to get better, I'm afraid– But once I start updating the fic, you'll get lots of content at a time, which should keep you busy while I work on the next part.

"Yeah okay, but what's it like–actually about?"

If I told you that there wouldn't be much intrigue to it...Put it this way: In one way, its a story about Luke Castellan. In another way it's a story about a father and daughter's strained relationship. In a completely different way it's about gods, and fate. In a simple way, it's a comedy. In a more complicated way it's a tragedy. In a more subtle sense it's a lovestory. Chapter wise it's slice of life. It is many things. You'll just have to read it when it comes out to find out if you like those things.

"I don't like ocs/some other thing you mentioned"

That's fine. You probably should read something else, though. I can't help you there! That's kind of my whole thing.

"Hi. Calling in from the future. I read it and I didn't like it >:("

Sorry to hear that. But I think now is a good time to remind you this is a story that started out as an inside joke between a friend and me. It was never really inteded to have other people read it. I'm glad you gave it a shot, though! That was very nice of you.

And: Please don't tell me if you didn't like it– I really don't want to know, nor do I really care whether you like it or not, as per the last point.

"I have a Percy Jackson oc too! Can I tell you about them/ Can you feature them in Little Camper?"

Sadly I already have far too many demigods to manage (they are very difficult to manage), and so I can't really add more – at least not right now! But I'd love to hear about them, I have no doubt they're great!

"Can I ask for your advice on writing, making ocs, etc etc?"

Sure! My inbox is always open. I can't promise I'll be much help but I'll leave whether I seem worthy of questions be up to you lol

Updates/changes due to happen as I go on :0

#resources #little camper info #pjo little camper #masterpost #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #percy jackson oc #little camper #stephanie olive overbaum #🫒

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eternallyother · 2 years

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Inbox FAQs and Disclaimers:

Is your inbox open? Please refer to the header of the blog. We always have the status in the header.

If your inbox is closed why can I still send an ask? Because if folks have questions, we wanna be able to answer them. Questions take a little less time to get to than requests.

Was my ask eaten? Chances are, no, it wasn't. If it's necessary to give you peace of mind, feel free to just ask us if it was eaten and we'll let you know.

How is the inbox check formatted? We separate asks that are untouched in the inbox, requests that are in drafts, and requests that are already queued.

DISCLAIMER: The order in which asks are organized in the inbox checks DOES NOT SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THE ORDER IN WHICH THEY ARE COMPLETED. Each mod usually handles up to 20+ asks at a time. And I (Mod Angel) know I can't speak for the other two mods, but I am a mentally ill, neurodivergent cryptid who deals with chronic pain. I usually have low spoons, meaning I will complete requests based on how easy they are for me to do quickly. I'm more likely to finish a playlist or a positivity faster than a doodle or a self care or a fashion.

DISCLAIMER: THERE IS A REASON OUR REQUEST RULES ASK FOR ONE KINTYPE AND FORMAT AT A TIME. While we make very rare exceptions on a case by case basis, we only do one at a time because it takes longer and makes it harder to organize. In some cases, asking for two things at once means you may get both much later than others because we complete the two together. Please, one at a time. You can send in as many asks as you like, but keep them separate. It makes it easier on all the mods.

DISCLAIMER: From this point forward (May 21, 2022, 10:01 AM PST), we will only do ONE inbox check per inbox close. This is because it's hard to manage when the box is open, especially when we get 100+ asks per inbox opening.

Thank you for your patience. This post will he linked on the masterpost shortly.

Mod Angel

#mod angel #faq #inbox faq #masterpost #rules #guidelines #disclaimers #qna #this is not meant to come across rude #simply setting boundaries

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eintsein · 5 years

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After a few years of trial and error, I think I've finally found the perfect organization method.

In the early years of high school, I had a bullet journal. I was an artsy kid who found a way to combine art with organization in a way that benefited other parts of my life.

However, as I approached the end of high school, my schedule got busier, and I was involved in a lot more things, so owning a bullet journal was less practical. Because of that, I switched to an app called Edo Agenda.

I continued with digital planning in college since I knew I wasn't going to have as much time. But all the apps I tried out—Taskade, Actions by Moleskine, Any.do, Todoist, Wunderlist—weren't suited to my planning and organizational needs. They didn't have the specific functions I required and didn't incorporate an organization system I liked to use. The predefined apps were too restraining, but the more customizable apps weren't customizable enough.

So then I switched to a bare bones, uber minimalist bullet journal method. That worked pretty well my second semester. It was simple, portable, and most importantly, flexible—all the things one could wish for in a planning system. However, it wasn't always the most convenient to use since I couldn't effectively integrate all the different aspects of my life, which, to no surprise, is mostly recorded digitally.

There was just one huge problem with my digital organization system that made me hesitant to switch back in the first place: everything was fragmented. Notes were in Google Docs. Financial records were in Google Sheets. To-Do Lists were in my bullet journal. Team projects were in Trello. My poetry was on Bear. Things I wanted to try are carelessly pinned to random pinterest boards or added to my YouTube "watch later" playlist. It was a mess.

Over the summer, I found out about Notion from a friend, and I thought, this has so much potential, it could even be exactly what I need. It's essentially like an empty notebook on your computer with functions that make it 10x more powerful. Notion allows you to integrate all aspects of your life and work into one app. Some of the advantages that have made me partial to Notion are:

Even greater customization level. Notion is a blank canvas with tons of predefined blocks and different file types. You can make databases, spreadsheets, Kanban boards, to do lists, etc. Also, you can remain connected to other digital services. You can link websites, collaborate with other users, use different structures (e.g. documents, databases, tasks), embed images and videos, etc. There are also tons of formatting options, e.g. text color, highlight, heading v. body text.

Better organization. Notion allows you to have pages within pages within pages within pages—an infinite hierarchy that you can organize with tables of contents. These pages are made of blocks, e.g. tables, checklists, boards, databases. Both pages and blocks can be rearranged by simply dragging and dropping them to where you want them to be. In other words, I guess it's kind of like building a website to organize your life. Plus, their database feature is especially powerful as it allows you to connect all your data and get into as much detail as you wish (each entry in a database is its own page).

Templates. There are tons of templates created by both Notion and the community that you can use. These are especially helpful in the beginning since Notion does have a rather steep learning curve. There are template for almost every category: personal, planning, finance, job applications, design roadmap, etc. Check out their template gallery, this medium article called "10 Notion templates to inspire your use", or read on for my own examples!

Shortcuts. This makes typing and documenting so much faster. Notion uses Markdown, which is a text-to-HTML conversion tool, e.g. # = Heading 1, *, - = bullet point, etc.

Notion has some pretty awesome features, but how does one actually use it? Personally, I have four top-level pages: my planner, my personal journal, songwriting, and blogging.

Planner

I've been using my planner to, well, plan and track my day to day activities as well as my week and month. The way I've structured it is a calendar or monthly overview with links to pages of weekly overviews, and if needed, daily overviews within the weekly overview. This links things up so nicely, i.e. I don't have to be constantly flipping pages in my physical bullet journal or planner to find what I need.

I also have entertainment lists, which is mainly a table with all the shows I want to watch, the books I want to read, etc. I keep track of whether or not I've watched them, as well as my personal ratings. What I love most about this is that each entry is its own page, so I can type my notes for each book, show, or film and easily find them in the future. (Also the reason why I have plural “lists” instead of just one entertainment list is because you can filter entries by type of entertainment, e.g. movies, tv shows, books, articles.)

Personal

For personal notes, goals, journal entries, etc. This is kind of like an extension of my daily journal and just where I dump all my thoughts and keep track of the different aspects of my life: mental, emotional, spiritual, social, physical, and travel.

Another page I have is called "Stray Thoughts" and, well, it's pretty self explanatory. It's a lot easier to dump all my thoughts as they come and reorganize them later. Of course, this requires sacrificing the rawness of journaling, i.e. when the thoughts come and how you process them, which is why I still keep a regular journal that I write in daily.

Songwriting

I've been writing a lot of music over the summer and it's often hard to keep track of all of my songs and how far I've gotten in the songwriting process. So I created a table of songs - each entry of a song is a page with its lyrics. These are then tagged with the status of the lyrics (i.e. completed, in progress) and the status of the music itself (i.e. melody only, instrumental, mixing, mastering, revised). Eventually, I'll include demos in the database by embedding audio files in the document.

I have a separate section for inspiration and ideas, which is a kind of brain dump, e.g. words I think would make a good song, a certain theme for a song, a melody that's been stuck in my head, a vibe I'd like to try out, etc.

I've also been watching a lot of tutorials for music production and there's a section where I write my notes for that.

Eintsein

The last section of my Notion app is for this blog. Which has pages for

New posts. These are ideas for future posts, asks that I think would need longer answers, as well as posts that are currently in the draft stage (like this one was before I posted it)

Design assets. This is where I put all the visual branding material for Eintsein.com to be used in posts and any visual material on the blog.

FAQ. Having an FAQ document just makes it so much easier to make changes to your existing FAQ. Plus, if you ever change your FAQ theme, you just have to copy and paste what you already have.

Post directory. I keep track of all my previous masterposts, infographics, and generally longer and more comprehensive posts. It's the exact same as what you see on my Navigation page. And yes, the document contains direct links to the post.

New theme. A project I've been working on the past couple days is trying to create my own theme for my blog. This is where I put all my outlines, brainstorming notes, design inspiration, code snippets, etc.There are some pretty awesome features I’ve made use of in this page:

As you can probably tell, I'm absolutely obsessed with Notion since it has such awesome features and endless possibilities for customization. So far I've been using Notion for personal projects, which, since they are quite big in scale and have no set deadline, are important to organize well. My summer courses were only 6 weeks and weren't difficult to organize.

The formats above are just how I personally use notion. You could make some of your own, or if you don't think you want to build your pages from scratch, there are tons of templates to choose from. Here are some I think I'll be using in the near future and may be helpful for others as well, especially students like myself:

One drawback, however, is that Notion has a rather steep learning curve, but there are tons of tutorials online (especially YouTube) and I guarantee you it's all worth it.

Notion is not just a productivity app. It's a way to concretize your entire life.

Notion is free to use, but there are higher tiers that allow for more blocks, greater file size, etc. I use a personal account, which is $4 per month with unlimited block storage and no file upload limit (although I got it for $33/year). Personally I think the free plan would suit most people's needs, especially if you're not uploading large files.

#mine #eintsein #mymp #notion #apps #productivity #studyblr #studyspo #study hard #organization #document #graphic #design #infographic #masterpost #advice #tips

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ladyfogg · 7 years

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Sick Like Me - Part 16/20

Fic Summary: With unfinished business hanging over your head, being locked up in Arkham is holding you back. However, you have your eye on a certain red-haired maniac, who may be just the person to help you escape and realize your true potential. Fic Song. Fic Playlist. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Jerome Valeska/Female Reader

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, for a complete list of warnings, visit AO3.

A/N: I almost have all the remaining chapters drafted, and I’ve got to say, this has been a fucking intense story. I didn’t think I could write something like this but I’m super proud of myself for doing it. Honestly, this chapter made me go super dark and, yeah. You've been warned.

Eventually, the Commissioner spills everything. After the show she put on with her hard exterior and spitting at Jerome, it only takes few minutes of Jerome beating her for her to break. In the end, you don't have to lift a finger. Camera in hand, you watch as Jerome makes her scream, growing wet with every drop of blood.

“Across from Wayne Enterprise,” Essen gasps through the pain, eye swollen shut and lip split open. “There's an apartment building we use to house witnesses. She's on the third floor.”

Excited, you place the camera on the desk and come to stand by Jerome. “Security?” you demand.

“A few armed guards,” Essen sobs, tears of shame streaming down her face, mixing with blood. “It's all we could spare.”

This is better than you could have imagined. You had been sure Essen was tougher, would be harder to crack. It seems she was just as weak as all the rest

“Please—” Essen begs, but never gets to finish her sentence.

Jerome shoots her in the head. You barely register the blood splattering across your pristine blouse, too preoccupied with Jerome swooping in for a kiss.

“Happy, doll face?” he asks.

You grab his hand, wiping the blood off on your skirt before you slid it underneath, forcing him to feel the wetness between your legs. “Never better,” you growl.

Jerome grunts, two fingers spreading you open, before reluctantly withdrawing his hand. “Get the camera,” he orders, lewdly sucking the digits clean.

You raise your eyebrow defiantly and he adds, “Please.” with a sarcastic smile.

Satisfied, you pick up the camera and aim it at Jerome. “Ready when you are, puddin’,” you say.

Jerome grins. “Hellllooooo, Gotham City!” he exclaims. “We're the Maniax and I'm Jerome, the shot caller of our little gang.”

Before you can comment however, he glances past the camera at you and adds, “Well one of them anyways. Say hello, Queenie.”

He grabs the camera and maneuvers it around so you're now in the shot with him.

“Hello there, lovelies,” you smile. Jerome presses his cheek to yours, smearing his blood onto your skin. “And an extra special greeting to Detective Gordon and Dr. Thompkins. Guys, couples dinner, you and us. Call me.”

Jerome laughs. “We're here to spread the message of wisdom and hope.” His smile fades as Greenwood groans, not quite as dead as you initially thought.

Jerome withdraws his pistol and shoots Greenwood again, silencing him for good. You draw back, refocusing the camera on your lover.

“Some people have no manners,” he tuts. That dark look comes across his face and he leans in close to the camera. “You're all prisoners. What you call sanity, it's just a prison in your minds that stops you from seeing that you're just tiny little cogs in a giant absurd machine.”

He's magical. You find yourself hanging on every word he's saying, entranced.

“Wake up!” he snarls. “Why be a cog? Be free! Like us!”

He takes the camera and tugs you into frame again, eyes flaring with hunger and passion. “Just remember...smile!”

The kiss is dirty and lewd, and you follow through, moaning loudly as his tongue assaults your mouth. His tongue tastes like blood and your slick, your favorite combination of flavors. In the distance are sirens and both of you withdraw with noises of disappointment.

“Time to go,” you urge.

Jerome nods in agreement, turning back to the camera. “Don't worry, we'll be back very soon!” He slips the hat of his uniform on, smashing his lips against your cheek in a loud, smacking kiss. “Hang on to your hats folks, ‘cause you ain't seen nothing yet!”

Jerome's laughter is contagious and you find yourself joining in, even as you stop recording. You pop out the tape and Jerome whistles as he scoops a sharpie off the desk, scribbling Gordon’s name across the label.

“Let's go home,” you say. “We can't bring liberation to the masses if we get caught.”

“I concur,” Jerome states, dropping the tape on Essen’s lap. “Aaron, come help Queenie down!”

There's little time to talk after that. Between giving orders to the goons you hired and escaping the GCPD, there's too much going on. The outside is beginning to swarm with police and you barely manage to make it to the limo before the SWAT team arrives.

You expect Jerome to be all over you once free of danger, but he's not. The vehicle drives off and he throws his hat off, kicking up his heels on the wet bar and folding his hands behind his head. After a few minutes of silence, he glances your way.

“We're dropping Aaron off, I'm changing clothes, and then we have another little trip we have to take today,” he announces.

This is the first you're hearing about these plans. “What trip?” you ask.

“A special one,” Jerome answers. “One for just you and me.” He suddenly hops onto your lap. “We've been serious for a while now,” he comments.

“A couple of weeks actually,” you say, using the sleeve of your jacket to wipe away some of the dried blood from his nose. “It'll be a month since we left Arkham.”

“Well, I think it's time to introduce you to my father,” Jerome grins, batting your hand away. “The poor blind idiot rented an apartment in town when I was put away. We're going to see him.”

Giggling, you slide your hand up his back, wishing you could feel his warm skin and not fabric. “And just what are we going to do while we're there?” you ask.

Jerome's lips curl into a smile. He leans in close. “Shh, it's a surprise,” he says in a stage whisper.

---

The apartment his father rents is a dump, although, most places in Gotham are. His father isn't home, so Jerome makes himself comfortable in a chair to wait. Next to him on the floor, his bag sits open showing rope, knives, and various other fun items.

Jerome takes the rope out and begins to play with it while you wander for a bit, checking things out. It doesn't seem like it's a trap or setup, for which you are grateful.

“Queenie, come here,” Jerome demands.

You raise your eyebrow at his tone, but slink over to his side. “Yes?”

Jerome wraps the end of the rope around his hand, before patting his lap. “Sit with me.”

You oblige, straddling his legs. His hands seize your wrists and he yanks them behind you as he draws you in closer. “Once we take care of my dad and your stepmom, it'll be a message to everyone,” he determines.

The harsh brush of the rope winding around your wrists makes you suck in an excited breath. “Oh, will it?” you purr. “And what will the message say?”

“That the GCPD can't stop us,” he growls, letting your hands go. They're loosely bound, but damn do you wish they were tighter. “That no matter how hard they try to meddle and separate us, we'll always find a way.” He grabs your neck, drawing you in so that your lips brush. “You and me, doll face. Together forever.”

The kiss is interrupted by the sound of the key in the lock. You hop off Jerome's lap and shake your hands free, fingers curling around the rope to keep it from falling onto the floor. Jerome stands, eyes narrowed and grin wide. He glances at you and winks, that familiar flutter of excitement making you grin back.

When the old man walks in, you stand perfectly still, studying him curiously. This man is such a focus of hate for Jerome, you can’t help wondering why. He looks completely unassuming and you suspect Jerome would have taken him out sooner if he hadn't been caught. His father doesn't make any indication that he's aware of your presence, until he walks by you. Only then does he pause.

“Who's there?” he asks, voice raspy.

Neither of you say a word. You cast Jerome a questioningly look and he jerks his head toward his victim, giving you the go ahead.

“I know you're there!” his father says.

Before he can say another word, you wrap the rope around his neck, cutting off his air and keeping him in place. He gasps in surprise, his cane falling to floor as he reaches up to grab for the rope.

“Hiya, pops,” Jerome greets, drawing closer. “Long time, no see.” He laughs at his own joke and you chuckle with him.

The two of you maneuver his dad into a wooden chair, securing him tight enough to keep him there, but not so tight to leave bruises or marks. Jerome's smile never once falters. In fact, it only grows as he drags another kitchen chair closer, purposely letting it scrape across the floor.

Jerome collapses into it when he's finished and you move to stand by his side. “So…” he says casually. “How y’doing?”

Silence is his answer, though that's entirely because Jerome gagged the old man with a scarf.

“Ah, silent treatment,” Jerome continues. “Let me tell you a story.” He lounges back in his seat, making himself comfortable.

“You remember Kansas City, Dad. The circus went through town every spring, around my birthday.” His voice is low and gravely, a register you've barely heard him use, though you find attractive. “There was this guy. Him and my mom use to drink and fornicate and beat the crap out of me. They would make a whole night out of it.”

Anger makes your stomach churn and you find yourself balling your hands into fists to keep from punching something. The thought of people hurting Jerome will always flip a switch, no matter how much you try to contain it.

Jerome doesn't take his eyes off his father, but does reach up to lay a comforting hand on your lower back.

“There was this one time,” he goes on, slowly getting to his feet. “It was my ninth birthday. And him and my mom had just finished round one of boozing, boning, and beating up Jerome.”

His hand slips from your back as he creeps towards his father. As he does, you take the opportunity to pick up his bag and lay out its contents on the nearby table.

“Anyways, I was outside the trailer, and you were there. Annnnd you said, ‘Why are you crying, Jerome?’...” He grabs one of your knives from the pile of toys and examines it closely. “‘It's my birthday, and my mom and the snake guy are beating me!’ and then you said, ‘This world doesn't care about you or anyone else, Jerome. Better to realize that now.’”

He drops the knife and turns to smile at his dad. “And that was it.” He suddenly charges at the man, towering over him as he gets close to his face. “But you were wrong! There is someone in this world who cares about me, and I want you to meet her.”

He straightens his stance and extends his hand to you. When you slip yours into his, he pulls you to his side.

“Dad, this is my partner, Queenie,” Jerome says, nuzzling your neck. “See, she believes in me! She thinks I'm gonna be a star! She has shown me so many beautiful things. We love each other more than you could ever comprehend and we've done so many amazing things together.”

“And to each other,” you add. “Your son is the most beautiful person I've ever met.” Your tone darkens as you step toward your hostage. “What you let his mother do to him makes my blood boil. See no one hurts my puddin’!” You reach down to pinch his ass. “Except for me sometimes, and only because it gets him off.”

Jerome's dad tries to speak, but the scarf muffles his response. Jerome rolls his eyes and yanks the fabric out of his mouth.

“You don't love each other!” his dad snaps viciously. “I have heard all about what you two have been doing. All the people you’ve killed. Neither of you are capable of love.”

Jerome wraps his hand around his dad's throat, angrily bringing his face closer. “We are in love! No one loves her as much as I do. She's mine! She's all I can think about, and she's all I've ever wanted. I have killed for her and she's killed for me. If anything ever happened to her I would rain hell down on those responsible and rip them in half!”

“That's not love, that’s obsession!” his dad insists.

“Same thing,” you declare. “However you look at it, we belong to each other.”

Unable to stop yourself, you cup Jerome’s face and kiss him deeply, tongue seeking his. Jerome groans and wraps his arms around you, kissing back just as enthusiastically. But before you can get caught up in the taste of him, he withdraws.

“Focus, Queenie,” Jerome teases.

“Oh I am focused,” you grin, rubbing his cock through his fine tailored pants.

“Spare me the sounds of your mating,” Jerome's dad begs. “I’d rather die than listen to that.”

“Now, that's no way to handle your son bringing a girl home for the first time!” Jerome scolds. “Honestly, Dad, you're being rude.”

Jerome slinks to stand behind the man, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look in your direction. “Wish you could see her,” he says. “She's gorgeous. A vision,” He giggles excitedly. “And I get to fuck her without a condom, so the sex is like, ten times hotter!”

His father turns a sickly gray color. “No...no! You two aren't bringing children into this world!” he exclaims, horrified.

There's a beat where you and Jerome look at each other and then burst into hysterical laughter.

“God no!” you exclaim.

“Dad, I never knew you were such a comedian,” Jerome says. “Now I see where I get my sense of humor from. No, we won't be procreating, you can go to your grave with some glimmer of happiness. The Valeska and Cicero lines end with me. Parents. Always pushing their kids to have kids. What’s that about?”

“Beats the hell of out me,” you say. “We've got to speed things up. Being wanted criminals and all.”

“Right,” Jerome agrees, letting Cicero go to walk around him. “She's always so good at keeping me on track with things like this. Anyway, Dad. We’re here because we need your help.”

“I'll never help you!” the old man declares.

“Yeeeeeah you will,” Jerome counters. “‘cause you have no choice. Queenie needs a scapegoat and what she wants, she gets.”

“See, Papa Cicero,” you say. “I broke us out of Arkham, because I'm awesome. Unfortunately, Detective Gordon is poking around, and I can’t take care of us if he finds my secret funds, so we need someone to pin the breakout on.”

Jerome turns to a pile of papers that you had placed next to the knives, and spreads them out on the table. “That's where you come in,” he says. “Let's see, blue prints, letters to your son with secret Braille messages planning our escape, plans for Queenie's smoke grenades…”

“They'll never believe I helped you!” Cicero insists.

“You did it before,” you shrug. “And they're desperate. They'll believe anything.”

“Jerome…” Cicero pleads.

Jerome drops the bag, rounding on him. “Oh is this the part where you say how sorry you are?” he lashes out. “How you should have believed in me, how it's not too late to start again? Newsflash, Dad, it's too late!”

“You don't have to do this!” Cicero says.

“Well...yeah I do,” Jerome shrugs. “Like I said, what Queenie wants, she gets.”

He grabs the knife off the table, flipping it in the air and catching it by the handle.

“Shame, you're gonna miss my big night,” he continues. “I have a performance coming up. A real showstopper!” He grins. “You're psychic, tell me…do I kill?”

“You will be a curse upon Gotham! Children will wake from sleep screaming at the thought of you! Your legacy will be death and madness!” Cicero vows.

Jerome looks pleased with the news.

Cicero suddenly turns his blank gaze in your direction. “And you!” he growls. “You've let a monster loose on this city and you will suffer for it. Whether by his hand or his actions, he will be the death of you!”

You consider his words and slide your arm around Jerome's shoulders. “I wouldn't have it any other way,” you grin.

Jerome places the scarf back in his father's mouth as the old man starts to protest. “Bye Dad,” he says. “Say hi to Mom for me.”

The blade slices Cicero’s wrists with barely any pressure. You watch the blood flow as Jerome whistles, wiping his prints from the handle before placing it on the floor to make it look like it was dropped.

“Now, we wait until he dies, and then we untie him,” Jerome explains. “And it'll look like poor old Dad couldn't live with himself. Boo hoo.”

Cicero is too frail to struggle. He twitches and jerks, but it only makes the blood pour faster. Jerome grabs you, forcing you to look at his dying father.

“You've never seen the life drain from someone's eyes,” Jerome recalls, lips tickling your ear “Let's watch together.”

It turns out to be difficult to do. Cicero’s eyes are too milky to really show much of anything and he's dying so fucking slowly. You huff with annoyance. “I don't think that'll work in this instance,” you say.

Jerome mimics your huff. “So it would seem,” he says. “That's alright. One day you'll look a man in the eyes when he dies.”

As the blood drips down his father's wrists, Jerome spins you around. His mouth is hot and persistent, biting and tasting your lips urgently while steering you toward the lumpy sofa off to the side. Without a word he sits and pulls you down with him, shoving your skirt out of the way in the process.

Excited by the ferocity of him, you bunch your skirt up around your middle, leaving you naked from the waist down. Jerome pulls you fully onto his lap, forcing you to straddle him. His hands are quick to undo his belt and the sound sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

Fuck he's so hard. His hips surge upward, forcing himself in, impaling you with his cock. It hurts; you're not nearly warmed up enough, but that doesn't stop you from rising and falling on his lap. You're slick within mere seconds, turned on by the animalistic way he's claiming your body.

His fingers dig into your thighs as he grips you tight, setting a fast and brutal rhythm. You gasp with delight, hands falling onto the back of the couch. Shocks of electricity course through your veins, the angle of your coupling being absolutely perfect. Between his cock hitting the spot that makes you sees stars, and your clit grinding against the fabric of his pants, you’re in heaven. He's practically snarling as you bend your head for more kisses.

Fingers are shoved into your mouth instead and you suck on the digits, while Jerome stares up at you with mischievous eyes. After a few seconds, he yanks his hand away and then you feel his soaked fingers circling your pucker. A brief wag of his eyebrows is all the warning you receive before he pushes a finger past the tight ring of muscle.

Immediately your body seizes against the intrusion, clamping down. Jerome pauses with a delighted laugh. It's been a long time since anyone dared to touch you there, mostly because your thoughts on the matter usually scare them off.

Not Jerome it seems.

“This mean I get to fuck you too?” you gasp, grinding against his lap.

Jerome’s smile is wide and his hips thrust up. “You'll get yours when I get mine,” he reminds you.

“Good thing there's lube in my pocket, huh?”

Jerome stills, seizing your hip with his free hand to stop your movements. You whine at the loss of friction. “Don't tease me, Queenie,” he orders in a sharp voice. “Not today.”

Smirking, you pull the small bottle out of your coat. You had taken to carrying it around just in case, considering you can never tell when Jerome is going to want sex. Jerome's panting becomes heavier and he reaches up to take it from you. His finger slips out, making you wince with discomfort. For once, he seems at a loss for words.

A thought strikes and you regard him curiously. “Jerome, who was before me?” you ask.

His eyebrows knit together with confusion as he tears his gaze from the bottle. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re so enthusiastic about anal,” you clarify. “You've done it before, right?”

Jerome drops the bottle and grabs your ass, thrusting upward so suddenly you have to grab the back of the chair to steady yourself. “Never had the pleasure,” he says.

“Then let me teach you how it's done,” you purr, picking up the forgotten bottle.

Jerome watches transfixed as you pop open the cap and coat your fingers in lubricant. Slowly you start to grind against his lap again, his cock still filling you so deliciously. It's a wonderful distraction from what's to come. Reaching back, you slide two lube coated digits between your cheeks.

Jerome's curious hand finds yours and you guide him forward, spreading the lube in small circles around your hole. Closing your eyes, you relax into the touch. Jerome's face is close enough for his breath to ghost across your lips. The feeling sends a stab of desire through your heart and you smash your mouth against his.

This time when he presses his finger in, it’s smoother than before. You resist the urge to clench and instead focus on riding his cock, taking control so he can enjoy fingering you. Like everything else he does, his movements are rough and quick.

“Nice and easy,” you pant in between kisses. He listens, slowing down enough for you to relax further. “That’s it, puddin’.”

Hand around his wrist, you direct his movements, feeling yourself loosen little by little. However, as much as you want to spend the day riding Jerome while he fingers your ass, time isn't on your side.

Forcing yourself to remain relaxed, you slide your finger in next to his, stretching yourself even more, pausing every now and then to readjust to the sensation. Jerome's head falls back against the couch, watching your face through hooded eyes. The way he’s studying you could almost be described as calculating, as though he’s trying to figure something out. You? Your reasoning for letting him do this now? There’s no ulterior motive, other than he’s had a really fucking amazing day and you know this will make it perfect. He's also unusually quiet, whether because he's too distracted or lacking a joke for once, you're not sure. You smirk and wink, earning a large grin in return.

When you arch up against his hand, Jerome's cock slips out of you, glistening as it hits his stomach. Studying it for a moment, you withdraw your finger and force Jerome to do the same.

He quirks an eyebrow questioningly, until you grab the lube bottle and coat three of his fingers. Then he understands.

Spurred on by his own excitement, Jerome slips an arm around your waist and crushes you to his chest, before reaching down once more. He eases two fingers in with little resistance and you can't help but moan as the burning sensation starts to subside.

Jerome latches his mouth onto your neck, unable to restrain himself any longer. He thrusts his fingers in and out of you roughly again, his cock throbbing persistently between your rocking bodies.

When a third finger wiggles in to join the other two, you shudder violently. Wave after wave of heat washes over your body and you find you're sweating profusely. You're also incredibly wet, nearly dripping as you leave trails of arousal along Jerome's cock with each roll of your hips.

“More,” you gasp, cupping his face to kiss him.

Jerome shoves his tongue into your mouth. His fingers give one more thrust before they're gone, and you're whining at the loss.

The sinking disappointment doesn't last long. Jerome flips you onto your stomach, leaving you half-hanging over the armrest of the couch, ass in the air. Your body is shaking from the stimulation, cunt throbbing with need.

Jerome presses the blunt head of his cock to your stretched pucker, causing you glance back at him over your shoulder

“More lube,” you order.

Jerome is obviously annoyed at being stopped. Regardless, he feels around for the bottle and you face forward again, watching the slow rise and fall of his father’s chest. He's still barely alive. Won’t be long now.

You're attention is dragged back when cold lube is dripped between your spread cheeks. “Asshole!” you swear over your shoulder.

Jerome laughs at the insult. “Damn right,” he teases and then pushes the head of his lubed cock into you.

Despite the preparation, it still burns. Though, not enough to force you to stop. Jerome does pause for a moment, waiting for you to relax again. It's like millions of new nerve endings come alive and your folds ache for the same feeling. Jerome places a hand on your lower back and the touch makes you release the tension, letting him slide in further.

“Fuck!” Jerome swears, overwhelmed. He stops moving again. “Queenie…” His groan is the most obscene sound you've ever heard. “You're so tight.”

He withdraws and gives a shallow thrust, making you cry out, both from pleasure and pain. His cock is almost too much for you to handle, but the next thrust makes you see stars and you change your mind.

It's perfect and he's perfect.

Jerome can't hold himself back anymore and starts to fuck you steadily, burying himself further with each thrust, until his lap slaps the backs of your thighs. The armrest is digging into your chest and you cling to it like it's the only thing tethering you to this world.

You drag your eyes open in time to see Cicero's chest stop moving. His hands twitch slightly, and then he's still. Jerome must notice as well, because he laughs breathlessly, fucking you harder.

He drapes himself over your back, panting in your ear. “I'm going to come inside you,” he grunts. “Would you like that, Queenie? Me coming in your ass?”

Your response is muffled as you bend your head, too overwhelmed and blissed out to hold it up. Jerome tugs your hair, pulling your head back with a snarl.

“Say it louder,” he demands.

“Yes, yes, Jerome,” you moan. “I want you to come inside my ass!”

Jerome giggles gleefully, pushing himself up and grabbing your wrists. He yanks your arms behind your back, locking you in place. With one hand holding you tight, he slips his other and in between your legs. You gasp at how unbelievably wet you are.

Jerome swears and moans louder than you've ever heard. With each thrust he buries himself to the base, as you writhe underneath against the sofa. You try your best to keep up, though there's barely any room to move. So you stop trying, body convulsing with exhaustion.

The lube is drying and Jerome is too far gone to reapply, but the burn only fuels your arousal and your orgasm sneaks up on you unexpectedly. There’s no buildup, no warning. Just a Jerome rubbing your nub hard and a sudden explosion of ecstasy, forcing you to clench around his cock.

“Shit, doll face!” Jerome exclaims. “So, so good! I'm coming!”

His body seizes, his hips thrusting forward one more time, pulling your arms so hard your joints protest. You feel the rush of warmth as he comes, withdrawing at the last second to coat your aching lower back.

Jerome slumps against the back of the couch, finally letting your wrists go. You collapse fully on the armrest, body wracked with shakes as you try to catch your breath. Sore doesn't even begin to cover it. You're in actual pain, and it takes you a full minute to even try to sit up.

Jerome wraps his arms around you from behind, lips brushing your ear. “You always make the waits worth it,” he giggles.

You smirk, lightly elbowing him to put some space between you. Too much. Too close.

“I know,” you say. “Come on, we should go. My ass hurts and this lube is getting tacky.”

Jerome laughs and smooths your skirt down, forcing the fabric to stick to the remains of his orgasm. After, he gently pats your bottom, earning a harder elbow to the ribs, which only makes him laugh more.

#ladyfoggdrabbles #sick like me #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska x you #jerome valeska fanfiction

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