#anyway it’s fine it’s good the camp is cleared out now

[0vergrowngraveyard]

Surprise villain au oneshot

———

It had only been about three months since he took the little fox kit he found on some rich folk’s porch under his wing and Sonic had already heard the little guy apologize to him more times than he could count.

Most of the time it was for no reason, like if the kit dropped something and Sonic looked back at him. Just little things that required no apology but he always got one anyway. The hedgehog always waved it off, telling him that there was nothing he needed to apologize for.

Sometimes, however, it was due to how Sonic himself responded to him.

Sonic tended to experience pretty extreme mood swings, going from practically bouncing off the walls to the bottom of the barrel to being ready to kill someone who looked at him wrong all before a moment's notice. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be pleasant to be around one second and then suddenly snapping at anyone who breathed too loudly the next.

He knew it happened, he just didn’t know what to do about it. It was like he was stuck and could only watch himself slowly fall apart.

And worst of all, he’d begun to snap at Tails.

He didn’t mean to — he didn’t want to scare the little guy away, not when this was the first friend he’d ever had and they’d just started getting closer — but he couldn’t stop himself.

Sometimes the kit’s crime was asking a question at the wrong time or simply talking to him. It’s not like he ever knew when Sonic would suddenly get mad at him, the little guy was just trying to communicate with his new friend and was being punished for it.

Everytime it happened, the fox would get quiet and walk a few steps behind him. He’d only speak when spoken to until something got him excited the next day.

But he never left, he always stayed somewhere behind him and was still there in the morning.

It was a cycle.

They were walking down the street during the later hours of the evening, trying to think of somewhere to settle that night. Today was slow, Sonic usually got their money by pickpocketing off random people and he hadn’t been able to find anyone with more than $5 on them. It’s like all the richer mobians stayed inside today or people were starting to realize that money was being stolen and got smart.

Don’t get him wrong, $5 was great and he’d take it but deep down, some part of him was still used to the lavishness of Eggman’s bases…

They’d made it near the outskirts of Station Square. There’d been nowhere in the city for them to sleep with all the anti-homeless shit they’d been putting up. Spikes on benches, blocking off alleyways, the works. Sometimes, he considered just getting the two of them arrested so they could sleep in the juvenile detention center for the night or two.

But then they’d be separated and Tails could be sent back to his so-called parents.

He didn’t understand why they even bothered to file a missing person report and hung up fliers, they obviously didn’t care about the kid like he did. If they had been good parents, then Sonic wouldn’t have found the kit sitting on a porch in the rain, saying that his parents had kicked him out of the house for the night.

If they didn’t want to take care of their own kid, fine. He’d do it for them.

As they made it to the train station, Sonic put his hands on his hips and hummed. He looked back, “Hey, kid. What do you say we camp out in the Mystic Ruins tonight? Y’know, sleep under the stars and all…that…” His words trailed off as he looked at the kit.

He was holding one of the missing person posters.

Now, you wouldn’t be able to tell he was the kid in the flier unless you squinted and maybe turned the paper on its side. It was a terrible picture and the description said nothing about his twin tails. As long as the kid kept his hood on, he was in the clear.

But that wasn’t the problem.

An indescribable fear gutted him, dread opening up a pit in his stomach as his breath hitched. It was irrational, he knew it was irrational, but that didn't change anything.

“Why do you have that?” He asked

Tails blinked at him and looked back down at the paper, “Oh, uh- I found it yesterday. I meant to throw it away earlier but I forgot-“ The kit tried to explain before Sonic cut him off.

His body moved on autopilot as he snatched the flier right out of the kid’s hand, completely missing the way the kid flinched. Sonic’s gaze narrowed, glaring down at the wide blue eyes now full of fear staring up at him. He looked down at the flier again and ripped it into four pieces with an annoyed tsk.

“Forgot to throw it out, huh? You sure you weren’t just planning on going back to your folks and leaving me in the dust?” He practically spat out.

Tails’ eyes got wider and his breath hitched before he frantically shook his head, tears building in his eyes as they squeezed shut. “No! No, I wasn’t!” He cried out, “Honest!”

Sonic stared at the kit as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his paws to stop any tears from falling in public. Self awareness suddenly barreled into him full force as he remembered that they were, in fact, surrounded by people. He could feel their eyes on him.

He anxiously clenched his fists and turned around, “Good...” he simply said, “Let’s get going.”

The kid nodded and scurried behind him, still willing to follow him.

The train ride was quiet. It was pretty late so that wasn’t too surprising. Sonic looked out the window behind him, watching as the city lights faded into deep greens as they approached their destination.

Instead of leaning against his shoulder as he usually did, Tails sat a little bit away from him, namesakes curled around his legs as he stared at the floor. His ears were down, resting against the back of his head. His eyes were covered by his hood, Sonic could only see the small frown on his muzzle.

He sighed. He could only imagine what his little outburst looked to random people walking by. A thirteen year old scolding a six year old for holding a piece of paper. What a great look.

It’s not like anyone did anything about it anyway. No one ever did anything about it.

“I’m sorry.” The kit mumbled.

“You’re good.” Is what Sonic should’ve said, because it was true. He was all good, he didn’t do anything wrong.

But instead Sonic just hummed, unable to bring himself to speak. He didn’t know if it was embarrassment or if part of him was still unreasonably mad at the kid. He felt his heart break all the same when he saw the kit make himself smaller.

The kid didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve any of this. If Sonic knew what was good for him, he would’ve dropped him off somewhere with nice people who didn’t randomly snap at him and push him away only to love bomb him a day later.

Tails didn’t deserve any of it and yet Sonic couldn’t let him go. He didn’t want to be alone, the thought terrified him.

Eventually, they made camp near a cliff overseeing the ocean in the Mystic Ruins. The stars were shining overhead and the waves crashed against the shore beneath them. The wind rustled the trees and danced with their little campfire that lit up their faces.

Neither had said a word to each other since the train station, but that was normal.

Sonic looked at Tails out of the corner of his eye. The little kid just sat there, his blue eyes were still downcast as the fire’s warm glow reflected off of them. While his ears weren’t pressed against the back of his head anymore, they were still wilted, not quite standing up to full height.

The hedgehog sighed before looking back at the campfire, “You…you weren’t lying back there, were you?” He asked, “About not leaving…you weren’t just saying what I wanted to hear, right?”

Tails shook his head, “I wasn’t lying”

Sonic stayed quiet for a moment and just watched the fire dance, listening to each crackle as his words from earlier echoed in his head.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

“It’s okay, Sonic.”

Soon they would go to sleep and wake up the next morning. Everything would go back to how it was. Sonic would spoil the kit as an attempt at an apology and they'd be fine until the next time he lost his temper. Maybe it would take a few days, maybe a few weeks, maybe even a whole month, but it would happen again and the cycle would repeat.

That was their normal.

#fic #and the brother of the year award goes to…. #not this guy! #at least sonic is self aware right? right? #they’re fine i swear #they do both need therapy tho #would just like to say that this takes place before they become criminals #whereas regular sonic values freedom even if it means his friends leave for a bit #this sonic is terrified of being alone #and would self destruct if tails were to ever leave #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #unbreakable bond #the brothers ever #villain au

[revvethasmythh]

live footage of me doing combat on tactician difficulty

#dror ragzlin was just SO much fun you guys. so fun #but hey—no one died!! #actually the tough part was the whole goblin party outside b/c I swear #ONE DUDE on a turret way high up got aggro’d #but he was apart of a whole different level of the fight and none of use could hit him b/c hen just wasn’t in range #so it was the four of us vs ONE FUCKING GOBLIN THAT NONE OF US COULD HIT #so it took like FIVE extra rounds for us to circle around the whole exterior of the camp #to get up to his level #which aggro’d five extra combatants 🫠 #I’ve never wanted to tear my hair out during a fight and it was just cause we spent so much time on MOVEMENT #anyway it’s fine it’s good the camp is cleared out now #<- woman experiencing existential exhaustion #rosie plays games kinda okay

[pandoraslxna]

ohh my!! \(°o°:)/ I loved "sharing is caring"! , I was wondering if u could do more spider smut, please!!(no rush tho! <3)

The Na‘vi way

adult Spider x female recom reader

Words: 2.7k

Summary: To walk, eat, talk and even think like a Na‘vi, that was one thing. But to dress like one? That was a whole new level of commitment just to get this job done.

Warnings: explicit smut, just a small size difference, oral (f receiving), masturbating, fingering, praise kink, teasing, sexual tension, semi-public, hair pulling, tail pulling, Spider is a smug little bastard

Notes: I just realized that I completely forgot about Spiders mask so let’s just pretend he can breathe just fine without it… 🤦🏻‍♀️ Anyways, as you can see I‘m still not that confident in my ability to write for Spider and it somehow feels like he’s not as characteristically accurate as Id like him to be, but I still hope you guys will enjoy this! Let me know what you think pls I’d love to improve my spidey writing skills lmao 🥴

"This is ridiculous…", you mumbled as you peered down on yourself.

To walk, eat, talk and even think like a Na‘vi, that was one thing. To be fair, it was an easier said than done task for your squad. But to dress like one? This was a whole new level of commitment just to get this job done!

Spider thought it was amusing, watching the recoms get used to wearing loincloths and such, all in order to put themselves into their enemies position. That was, until it was your turn to get dressed. Or, well, get undressed.

Spider couldn’t help but stare at you for a good while, now wearing a loincloth and also a skimpy woven top that barely covered more than a few inches of skin. You were seemingly having a hard time getting comfortable with your new clothes, as you were trying your absolute most to hide yourself with your arms crossed over your chest.

He was used to seeing omatikaya women in less coverings than that, but still. There was just something about you showing that much amount of bare skin that had him feeling a little dizzy.

Snapping out of his thoughts before you could even realize that he was ogling at you, Spider cleared his throat, "It’s not ridiculous. Now you actually look like true Na‘vi."

"Lookin' good, buttercup", comes from beside you both, with a snickering laugh that made your cheeks light up bright red. "Fuck off, Wainfleet", you grumbled, "Let’s just get this over with…"

The idea was, to spend an entire day learning how to hunt, with nothing more than a bow and arrows, while also being dressed like a bunch of wannabe Na‘vi. Truth be told, Spider didn’t know if that would actually help them dealing with Jake, but it wasn’t like he was ever planning on actually helping them and betray his (more or less) adoptive family. After all, he was nothing more than a prisoner of war and maybe that was his payback for the way they had treated him so far. Couldn’t hurt to make a little fun out of a group of recoms that had no idea what they were even doing out here, right?

For someone who wasn’t even used to handling guns and such, you did pretty well with a bow.

As far as Quaritch had introduced his squad to him, Spider knew that you were some sort of combat medic, usually just jumping around to treat injuries and make sure nobody dies under your watch. You worked with the military, but you weren’t a soldier. You were also around an head or two smaller than the other woman, Zdinarsk or whatever her name was, which was a nice change, because for once Spider didn’t need to crane his neck entirely to talk to someone. You were pretty much eye level with him, in more than just one way. Compared to the others, you were friendly and kind, and at least you tried to be thoughtful of the environment out here.

When the eclipse neared, the recoms began to set up a small camp in the forest to rest for the night, finally done with todays 'lessons'. There was a river gurgling by and when the Colonel gave permission, you separated from the others to get washed up and redress.

"Oh, no. No. That’s not happening", Spider shakes his head at Lyle who was currently about to set up a small campfire. "What now, pinky?", the recom barks at him, haltering all movements to look at the human with painted on stripes.

"No fire in the forest, bro. That’s an unspoken rule. You’re gonna get us killed if—", Spider tried to warn him, but was cut off short, by the sound of someone calling his name in the distance. Turning to it’s direction and then back to Weinfleet, he points a warning finger at him and says, "no fire", before he’s off to whom had called him.

A little further away, down at the river, he finds you. Your brows are furrowed in what seems to be concentration and frustration at the same time. As he steps closer, he spots the source of your distress.

"Spider, oh thank god. Could you help me with this, please", you grumble, your hands busy fumbling with the tangled cords of your loincloth. "I can’t get this shit off…" The blonde can’t help but laugh when you groan in frustration.

"You have to untie it like this. No, no like—", he tries to verbally guide you, but you seemingly make things worse with the way you impatiently pull at each tiny knot, the strings now tangled between your legs and over your hips. It’s a mess.

"Here, let me help you", Spider then sighs and lowers himself onto one knee before you.

Normally, the woven cords that hold the cloth covering your crotch in place are supposed to be wrapped around your tail. Thanks to whatever you did, or tried to do here, they were now wrapped and tangled around one of your thighs.

"Open your legs a little", he tells you and you do as your told, making room so he could untangle you from this mess. One of his hands is firm on your thigh and you try to ignore the warmth of his palm and the way he unintentionally squeezes the soft of you flesh, while his other hand flips your loincloth up. "Hold this", Spider doesn’t wait for you to respond, already shoving the piece of fabric into your hands to hold it up and out of the way.

He’s entirely too close like this, you think.

You could feel his breath fan over your skin, his thumb on the inside of your thigh, while his other hand reached back and forth between your legs, slowly untangling you.

You had to admit, it’s been a while since the last time someone came this close to you, which made the whole situation so much… worse. Adverting your gaze from the man crouching in front of you, you tried to think of anything else than his hands so incredibly close to your private parts and the way it made you feel so on edge, that you had to concentrate on your breathing.

Meanwhile, Spider attempted to find something to focus on other than the textured rope holding the two halves of your loincloth together. It rode low. Pinching the flesh over your hipbones, like it was squeezing, teasing. There was also his hand, both of them entirely too close to your—

Glancing up, he found your eyebrows scrunched together as if you were concentrating very hard. You looked up at the sky and your chest raised and fell in deep breaths, seemingly trying to calm yourself.

You couldn’t have been more obvious if you tried.

With a hand still firm on your thigh, Spider gently squeezes the soft flesh to test the waters. A smug grin spreads on his face when you don’t immediately tell him to stop, your eyes still glued to anywhere but him. He knows it’s risky, knows it’s probably not the best idea, but he can’t help himself. His hand moves a little higher, until his thumb is barely an inch away from the thin cloth covering your sex. He traces the outline of your cunt, just a teasing touch that, if your senses weren’t on high alert already, you wouldn’t even have noticed.

A small gasp escapes you, when he adds a little more pressure on his thumb, but you still don’t tell him to stop. You only shift your stance slightly, your hands still holding the front of your loincloth in a tight grip. A task for which you were grateful for, otherwise you wouldn’t even know what to do with your hands.

Spider gently brushes his digit over the thin covering between your legs, feeling the delicate outline of your clit, until a small wet patch formed right there. A mouth watering sight. He watches intensely, how you let your head fall back, how you squeeze your eyes shut and a deep blush spreads on your blue cheeks that made them look a little purplish. He had to admit, you were adorable like this.

Dutiful to his task, he then pulls his hand away in order to untie the final string, and your loincloth slowly falls off of you.

"There, all done", the blonde says softly, smiling up at you. A beat passes in silence, with just the two of you looking at each other, and Spiders hands still firm on your thigh. Your lips are parted slightly, as if you were trying to say something, but your voice was nowhere to be found. His thumb rubs gentle circles over the soft blue skin of your inner thigh, and you exhale a shaky breath. The blush on your cheeks deepens, when his gaze falls to the glistening folds of your cunt, right in front of his face, and then back up at you.

"Can I?", he asks, to which you nod and whisper a breathless, "please."

It’s all he needs to hear to return his hand between your thighs, index finger swiping through your folds to locate your clit. His fingertip circles the tiny nub gently, while he pays close attention to the buckle of your knees when he touches it just right. Arousal begins to heat up your blood as he slides his digits from your clit to your entrance. Your breath hitches.

"You’re so wet", Spider murmurs, grinning, "Did you enjoy walking around like that today?"

"Shut up…", you whisper, although it sounds more like a whimper to him. With a chuckle, he continues his teasing touches, running a hand up and down your thigh while the other smears your slick back and forth.

His fingertips are featherlight as they tease the little nub of pleasure, drawing circles around it before he slides them back and dips them into you– just an inch, and your legs tremble. There’s a sound coming from deep within your chest as he repeats the same motion again, and it almost sounds like—

"Are you purring?", Spider snickers, "Fuck, that’s so cute." Before you can talk back however, his face inches closer and then his tongue darts out to give a kitten lick to your clit. Instantly, your hands fist into his locks to anchor yourself. A breathless moan slips past your lips once he flattens his tongue against you, groaning at the taste.

"Spider, the– the others…", you swallow thickly, trying to collect your rapid breathing, "they’re going to hear!"

"Hmh", he hums in agreement, glancing up to give you a teasing wink. "Guess you‘ll have to be more quiet then."

His mouth his back on you in a heartbeat, lips closing around your clit and then he sucks and your eyes flutter close in bliss. You have to bite down on your bottom lip, hard, in order to stay quiet, but it only gets worse when he finally inserts a finger into you.

"Oh, holy shit", you moan, quickly clasping a hand over your mouth.

Then, he wriggles a second finger in beside the first one, and starts to ease them out together, then back in, a slow, slick push. You squirm, high pitched moans falling from your lips, muffled against your palm, and then a choked and breathless noise as Spider settles into a slow rhythm, pushing in deep and curving to brush something inside you that has you clenching greedily around the digits.

Meanwhile his tongue continues to lap at your clit, rolling it over every inch of the wet, warm muscle before closing his lips around it again. He sucks, kisses and slurps and it’s so obscene, you can barely look.

It feels so good every time he curves his fingers into you, hooking and pressing at that special spot, that you don’t even realize how hard you had been pulling on his hair. But Spider doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he’s groaning into you like he enjoys this more than you do.

Your mind felt fuzzy, clouded with the squelching sounds he expertly worked out of your pussy until you were gasping and panting for air.

"S-Spider I‘m– wait, I‘m close, I’m gonna come", you half whisper, half whine, tugging his hair to make him stop for a second to look up at you.

His pupils are almost completely blown as his gaze meets yours, the bottom half of his face glistening in your slick and that smug little bastard has the nerve to smirk like a cat that got the cream.

"And?", he raises a brow, almost making a show out of licking his lips clean.

"You didn’t, I mean… you still haven’t–"

"That’s why you’re making me stop?", he chuckles like he can’t believe it, but then his eyes flash like an idea pops up in his mind.

The hand that had been resting on your thigh moves, slides down your leg before it finds the waistband of his own loincloth. With half lidded eyes you watch him pull his cock out, hard and leaking pre-cum in rich droplets that ooze from the slit of his tip, and you catch yourself swallowing at the sight.

Spiders hand closes tight around his shaft, giving himself a slow tug that makes him moan softly, and then his mouth is back on you. He’s stroking himself now, to the rhythm of his fingers that are pumping in and out of you. The low groans coming from him vibrates against your clit and you throw your head back at the pleasurable feeling.

He’s incredibly skilled with his mouth, you realize, aiming just right with the pointy tip of his tongue as he swipes over your clit in fast, tight circles. With the way he simultaneously scissors you open, it’s no surprise how quickly he can get you close again.

"F-Fuck, oh fucking hell", you moan in a whisper, "So good, feels so good! Oh– my god!"

Spiders cock throbs in his fist at the sound of your praise and he strokes himself faster, harder, teasing the slit with his thumb, imagining it’s your tongue instead. His eyes are shut and his brows are knit together in concentration as he makes out with your clit, feeling it twitch on his tongue and your walls spams around his digits.

He’s full on groaning, grinding his face between your thighs as he feels his own orgasm approach, he just needs a little more, just—

"C’mon, pretty. Come for me", he muffles almost desperately against you, fingers curling against your sweet spot at just the right angle and then you tug on his hair to get his lips back to your clit and that’s all it takes. With a hand clasped tight over your mouth to muffle your screams of pleasure, coming undone on his tongue, clamping down on his fingers and sending him clean over the edge with you.

Hips raising and pushing up into his fist, Spider comes with a choked off groan, sucking on your clit so hard it felt like you were going to collapse if he didn’t let up anytime soon.

"O-Okay, okay, fuck– Spider, s-stop", you half giggle, half moan, before he finally withdraws from between your thighs with a last kiss that makes your hips buck into it.

"Holy shit, where did you learn that?", you laugh breathlessly, genuinely impressed, as you watch him rearrange his loincloth and straighten back up.

But Spider just shrugs sheepishly and grins, "Well… it’s hard being the only one of the very few humans in the village. I had to find some way to impress, you know?"

"Hmh, I see", you giggle, nodding along. There’s a moment of comfortable silence that follows, and as you bend down to pick up your clothes. But then a warm hand settles on your hips.

A smiles tugs on your lips.

"I could show you what else I’ve learned", Spider murmurs, tilting his head to meet your eyes over your shoulder. You glance back at him, watching as he steps closer until his crotch makes contact with the curve of your ass. "Could show you the real Na’vi way." He smirks, then adds, "If you want."

His fingertips trace the arch of your spine until he reaches the base of your tail, where he closes his hand around it and tugs, firm but gentle. But it’s enough to send a full on body shiver through you, and your eyes widen in surprise as you feel a familiar tingle between your thighs.

Well. That’s new.

#tw: aged up #Avatar #atwow #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #Spider #spider x reader smut #miles socorro x reader #miles spider socorro #miles soccoro #miles socorro #neteyam #spider miles socorro #spider x reader #spider x y/n #Lo’ak #avatar spider x reader #avatar spider #Avatar Miles Spider #jack champion

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part eleven —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 2.6k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: here ya go

A dry mouth and a symphony of aches awaken you.

Ambery light spills through the cracks of the hunting cabin, catching the silvery glint of dust particles in the air. It must be morning or possibly even noon based on how rested you feel. As your eyes peel open, you can see everything better than last night. The cramped space is mostly barren. There are some rusted animal traps in the corner and a faded poster with dancing bears and cheesy lettering: NATURE BE OUT HERE WILDIN'. Blue's head lays upon your shoulder. Gently, you maneuver it off, but her lashes flutter open despite your efforts. 

"Twix?"

"Hey," you whisper. "Everything's okay. You can go back to sleep."

"Can you... get me some water?"

Ghost's backpack is likely off-limits, but you go through it, anyway. Beneath cigarettes and tools you don't even know the name of, you retrieve the canister of water and usher it to her lips. She sips weakly. The blanket covering her falls to her waist, revealing a bare, bandaged leg. Ghost must've taken off her blood and urine-stained jeans. You tuck the insulated blanket back over her and touch her forehead, relieved to feel the skin is cool.

"How are you feeling?" 

She lays back down, wincing. "It hurts. And... and I'm tired."

"That's normal. Your body is working hard to heal. Do you need anything else?"

There is the smallest shake of her head before her slack eyelids lower back down.

Ghost is leaning against the side of the cabin when you slip outside. He must have a tolerance for the cold to have stayed out here all night without his jacket. Only a black thermal hugs his chest, a dried stain at the side where you nursed his wound. His stare instantly finds you, alert yet ringed with faint lines of fatigue.

"She's doing good," you announce quietly. "Still sleeping and no fever. Did you see anything out here?"

Ghost clears his throat before speaking, voice rougher than usual from the hours of disuse. "No." His eyes flicker down to your legs. The jacket, although leagues warmer than your own, falls above your knees, leaving them shuddering against a crisp gust of air.

“Should be dry now," he says, motioning to a nearby tree where your clothes are draped over a branch. He must've put them there because you have no memory of doing so.

"Oh. Thanks."

Begrudgingly, you change behind the cabin, your muscles and joints groaning. Despite the dip in the river, your clothes still bare faint stains of blood and whatever fluid came out of that dead Grey. They don't offer the same physical comfort that his heavy loaner did. You can't say you don't miss it when you hand it back. 

"You should sleep, too."

He shucks it on, eyes glued to the distance. "I'm fine."

“You think there’s more of them, don’t you?”

He takes a moment before answering. "I took out five, then there's the two that attacked you. Big group. They would've left one or two behind to watch their camp."

It's true, and the thought grazes your teeth against the inside of your cheek. Either they will realize something happened to their companions and go looking for you, or they will be wary of the threat and keep to their turf. You aren't too concerned with Ghost here, but if they’re stocked on military-grade gear like he said, then it's better not to let your guard down.

"Look, you won't be able to keep her safe if you pass out from exhaustion. I can stay out here."

Finally, he exhales deeply, his chest moving beneath all the gear. "Wake me up if you see anything."

"I will."

You watch him go before a sudden realization hits you.

"Ghost, wait—"

He halts, eyebrows raising in question. 

"My bow... I think I lost it. In the river."

There is a long pause of thought before he reaches for the handgun at his waist, offering it to you with a firm look.

"Just for now, in case there's anything."

Keeping watch is far from enjoyable. Every little movement makes your fingers curl tighter around the gun. You keep your gaze up and alert while making a small fire to purify some water from the river, drinking until your stomach feels tight. Then, you settle on a tree stump by the cabin and take out the single dried squirrel you brought. But when you bite in, a strange taste floods your mouth. Blood. Cartilage. Human flesh. You spit it out, your stomach expelling more watery vomit. 

"For later, then," you whisper, wiping your mouth.

The plan was never to stay here for more than a night, but with Blue's recovery, you'll have to find more food. It could be three or four days before she’s ready for the long trip back. You ponder how you can make do without the bow, and figure you can use those animal traps. There's also a bush by the cabin that, if Paul's teachings did you any good, appears to be unripened salmonberries.

Hours drone by, each one more tedious than the last. The scent of moisture in the air begins to grow stronger. It's not until dark, swollen clouds roll in from the north that Ghost reemerges from the cabin.

"I didn't see anything, but I think it's going to storm." You gesture to the sky.

The abrupt arrival of sharp lightning and pillaging rain brings both of you back within the shelter. The storm clouds quickly swallow all the light, which leads Ghost to start another fire with the dry wood he has left. You find a few candles dressed in cobwebs and ignite them with your newfound lighter. It's not long before Blue wakes up, likely unable to sleep with all the sounds and the steady leak of water that begins to drip from the ramshackle ceiling. 

Ghost may have brought a lot with him, but he doesn't have anything to patch up a leak, which leads to a small puddle taking up space and pushing the three of you uncomfortably closer. Of course, Blue is the only one lying down. You tuck your knees under your chin while Ghost bends his long legs into a crossed position. He's wide enough that his knee and shoulder brush against you no matter how much you try to inch into the corner.

Though, you secretly can't complain. There seems to be an everlasting heat that radiates off him, even here, as the fire struggles to sustain itself and the rain thrums incessantly. 

He shifts around to fish something out of his backpack. Crackers. 

"Here, kid."

"I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat something."

He has to practically force little bites into her mouth, cradling her head up with his gloved hand. The sight makes your stomach howl, but you refrain from eating the squirrel in case you throw up again. You don't suspect either of them would appreciate that.

Blue goes back to staring dully at the wall after she eats, and Ghost continually peeks out a crack in the boarded-up window. The whole thing is quite miserable, even though, at the very least, you are all alive. The look in her eyes reminds you of how Joseph would get sometimes, and you hate it. 

At some point, you take out the book you found.

"Hey, Blue. I... I found this. Want me to read it to you?"

Her gaze shifts to you. "Oh. What's it called?"

"Um." You glance at the cover, cringing when a male model and corny title stare back at you. That's right. It was the only book in the store for a reason. "Well, maybe not. It doesn't look very good."

"You could tell me a story," she suggests in a murmur. "Ghost isn't any good at that."

You glance at him. He must be listening, but he pretends not to. Rather, he fiddles with the magazine of his rifle: taking it out, counting what's there, putting it back in. 

Under the roar of thunder, you murmur a story to her. That one your mother used to tell you. Then, you move on to memories. The happiest ones you can recall, mostly about your sister. You tell her about the time your parents surprised the two of you with a hampster, and how you argued over who got to name it, only deciding after a fierce battle of rock-paper-scissors in which you won. 

"So what did you name him?"

"Frank."

"Frank," she repeats. A weak smile. "That's a terrible name."

The storm ebbs on for another day. You and Ghost set up a silent routine of taking turns to sleep, though with how he leans against the wall and clutches the rifle with his eyes closed, you wonder if he is even really sleeping. Blue is only awake to eat, drink, and listen to a few stories. You steal peeks at her wound when he redresses it, pleased to see no evidence of infection. 

You finally bring yourself to eat, taking small bites and forcing it down. The pain in your limbs starts to fade, and the cuts on your face and hands are already scabbed over. When the rain clears, you set up the traps. Paul used to have ones like these. It's not long before you've got yourself another squirrel to eat. The salmonberries are terribly sour, but you wolf down a bush's worth.

Two days. You've been here for two days, and no one has snuck in an attack. There hasn't been a trace of rot in the air. You should feel relieved, but something in the way Ghost behaves makes you wary. He keeps looking through his backpack, fiddling with his guns. Perhaps over the past month, you've grown so used to his mood only shifting between hostile and indifferent, that it's easier to pick up on the signs of his unease. 

Before you can decide to question him what's wrong, he confronts you.

"Twix. We need to talk."

He's caught you with berry remnants around your mouth as you sit on the tree stump and finish your meal. You swipe your tongue across your lips, staring up at him. It's sort of awkward, craning your neck as he towers above you.

"What is it?"

"I need to leave."

You inhale sharply. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he takes the rifle off his shoulder, "I've got five bullets for this one. And," he juts a finger to the handgun, "One magazine for this one."

Understanding sinks to the pit of your stomach. He's running low. Of course. Between the people and all the Greys, he must have used up a lot.

"That's not enough to get us back?" You tuck some hair behind your ear.

"If we run into all those fucks like before, then no. I don't feel comfortable with this much."

"So what are you going to do? Go loot their bodies?"

"I already did that," he almost growls, frustrated. "This is what I've got including what they had on 'em."

"Their camp, then. You want to go find it?" When he nods, you glance behind you at the cabin where Blue rests inside. "No. No— I don't like this idea. I have nothing to protect her with while you're gone."

"I'll leave you a gun."

"I'm not good with a gun," you protest, curling your fingers into your palm as you frown. "She can barely walk, and I can't carry her if shit happens."

"Well, I can't get us all back safely if I don't have fucking ammo. You think I want to leave her? I have no choice here."

Everything he's saying makes sense, and yet, you hate it. You just barely protected her the first time he left you alone, the memory of desperately biting that guy's nose off being evidence of that. Admittedly, you don't know what to do once someone gets close. If something were to happen while he was gone, you’re not confident that you could keep her alive again. But he needs this. The trip will be a waste if he doesn’t get this ammo— the risk to all your lives would’ve been for nothing.

"What if—" Your eyes slide shut as you swallow thickly. "Fuck— what if I go get it?"

Immediately, he scoffs. "That makes no sense."

"Your priority is keeping her safe. You stay here and do that."

"You have no bow," he reminds you, roughly shaking his head. "Don't be stupid."

"You said there's likely only one or two people guarding it. I don't have to fight them. I just have to find their place and steal from them, right?"

"Why?" He demands, eyes narrowing from their typical half-lidded state. They sweep over your face, from your forehead to your chin. "Why would you do this? Risk your life?"

It's a fair question, and you realize how ridiculous you must sound even suggesting this idea. Looking at the ground, the first answer comes to you quickly. You value Blue's life more than your own at this point. Like you told Ghost, you don't know why you even bother fighting. She's a kid. A piece of light in this world. He can protect her better than you can, and he needs the ammo to do so. But there are a few other reasons you find yourself willing to do this for him, and those are the ones you decide to share with him. 

"Because like you said, you need the ammo to get us all back safely. Plus," you look back at up him, "They probably have some things I need, too. Like more medicine." It's something you've pondered quite a few times since realizing how healthy and populated their group was. You lucked out in the village. There will never be another opportunity for medicine like this. "But... if I can get your ammo, then you owe me."

A deep breath expands his chest, then he huffs it out. "What would you want?"

You mull it over. "The couch," is the first thing that comes to mind. You imagine having to sleep in a flooded shed, which will undoubtedly happen with this northern weather, and the thought alone makes you miserable. "When we get back, I want to sleep inside on the couch from now on. And a new bow. You can make me one."

He stares at you for a few seconds before shaking his head to himself, grumbling something under his breath. He slings the rifle back over his shoulder, and you think he's ready to rightfully tell you how stupid you are again, but instead, he grits out, "Anything else?"

"A few shirts and your jacket," you breathe out, eyeing the fabric that fits his broad shoulders much better than it did yours. "And..." a flush threatens the base of your neck, "I also want you to teach me how to better defend myself. Once someone grabs me, I panic."

There's something detectable that passes through his eyes, maybe the memory of how helpless he rendered you not so long ago. He looks at the cabin, shaking his head again, before returning his stare down at you. 

"I'm going to tell you exactly how to get this done. You're of no use to me dead, Twix. Get me a backpack full of ammo, and we'll have a deal."

#simon riley x reader #cod #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #fanfiction #zombie apocolypse au #forgot to tag this

[grandlinedreams]

hi i literally love all of ur posts u nail all of the characters its crazy.

one of my favorite tropes is hidding an injury and getting the classic “who did this to you.”

if ur still taking requests and are in an angsty mood would u plzzz write this with zoro?

Hhjg I try, thank-you!! But also mood it's just so GOOD and I hope that I can do this justice for you!!

[Heads up!: mentions of canon typical violence, blood/mention of an infected wound, angst]

Staring down at the gash in your side, you bite back a hiss as you prod at it, the weep of milky fluid from it. The split skin is puffy and an angry red, heat eminating from it ㅡ it doesn't take a genius to know that it doesn't look good.

Normally you'd have the little handful of supplies from Chopper, tucked away in your backpack ㅡ but it's gone, along with everything else beyond your weapon.

At least you're not wandering around by yourself, though. As if on cue, there's the sound of footsteps behind you, and you drop your shirt back over the poorly bandaged wound.

"What are you doing over here?"

"Just fine," you answer as you turn towards Zoro. "I wanted to see if we could reach a clearing and get a good read on where we are."

"Fair enough." Zoro studies you for a minute, and you worry that he's going to know about the wound on your side ㅡ the one you'd casually "forgotten" to mention to him. "So which way should we be heading?"

"West," you answer, glancing up at the sky. The sun has begun its slow arc of descent, and you sigh. "We need to hurry, or we'll end up needing to camp for the night."

"Right." You turn to watch Zoro go, feeling the irritated twitch of a muscle in your jaw.

"Zoro. That's east."

ㅡ

By the time the sun has set, it's clear that something is wrong.

There's a fine layer of cold sweat on your face that you scrub at, trying to ignore the heaviness of your limbs and throbbing ache of your side. "We should stop for the night," you hear yourself say, "it's useless to try and navigate after dark."

Zoro grunts his agreement and turns to look at you, brow furrowing. "Are you sure you're alright?"

You want to answer him, you really do. But your ears are ringing, mouth full of cotton when you try to answer. Dark spots dance around the edges of your vision, and you're distantly aware of Zoro's noise of alarm when your legs finally give out.

"'m fine," you finally manage before the dark spots expand, sinking you down into the silent black of unconsciousness.

ㅡ

You wake to the awkward bulk of a backpack under your head and the smell of woodsmoke. Sitting up, you blink when a damp cloth drops from your forehead into your lap.

"Finally awake?" Sitting nearby, Zoro prods at the fire with a long stick before he turns towards you. "You have a fever."

Your hand slides to your side, feeling the stiff press of bandages underneath, the answering throb of the gash beneath.

"Took care of that too." Zoro's gaze is sharp. "I'm not Chopper, but it'll do for now. Mind explaining who did that and why you didn't bother telling me?"

It's clear he's far from amused, and you look away, feeling guilty. "Happened when we all got separated," you say, "and I didn't think it was going to be that much of an issue."

Zoro wants to scold you, but he knows he'd be a hypocrite if he did given the amount of times he's blatantly ignored his injuries. Instead he sighs, watching the logs crackle for a moment. "Hope you killed the guy who did it."

"Of course I did," you answer with a hint of pride, and Zoro smirks.

"Good."

ㅡ

"I think this is a little excessive, Zoro."

"You still have a fever," Zoro says as he adjusts his grip on your legs, "and we won't get anywhere if you collapse on me again." He feels you tense, and he frowns. "How are you feeling, anyways? And don't lie."

"A little better." You rest your forehead against his shoulder, and though he won't admit it out loud, the fact he can feel warmth radiating from your skin worries him. "I'm sorry about this."

"Still should have told me," he says, though his tone is softer, his grip tightening on your legs. "Idiot. We're crewmates, aren't we? We're supposed to trust each other."

"I do trust you."

"Then act like it." He stares ahead, footsteps steady. "Don't go getting hurt and then hiding anymore, you hear me?"

"I hear you." You pause. "Zoro?" He grunts in answer, and you exhale softly. "Thank-you."

Zoro tells himself that his heart doesn't pick up a little bit at how soft your voice is, the cling of your body against his. And that he definitely isn't blushing, just a little. "Yeah, yeah. Can't have you die on me and leave me to deal with that stupid cook all on my own."

#ㅡmine. #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #ㅡanswered. #anonymous

[wayfayrr]

I see your human!reader and raise you: the Chain struggling to find food they can actually eat, reader feeling terrible and maybe a bit like a burden because of it, and getting into a dangerous situation in order to make it up to them

Source: the Owl House :)

I'm so sorry that this took so long to answer!! I've been quite busy recently but while I haven't watched the owl house I hope this does what you wanted justice, it got out of hand the more I wrote!!! I've heard it's great I just don't really watch shows :( Fair warning this got way more angsty then I planned for it too, with reader being pretty flippant about their own safety than they really should be, there's a brief not very detailed description of gore too. (it's also fairly wars centric towards the end)

[masterlist]

“[Name]! So wind and I’ve just been to the village right? I think I’ve finally found something I can cook that you should be able to eat! It was quite expensive but I’m sure it’ll be worth it for you!” 

“We looked around for ages, so if you can’t eat this then there might not be anything in Hyrule that you can eat!”

Wind means well with what he’s saying; I know that Wild does too, they don’t mean to make me feel bad - I think they don’t anyway. Not like they really need to try with how much of a burden to them I am. Buying expensive supplies just for me? When they’re already struggling to afford their own basic supplies, now I’m just adding unnecessary costs for them. Don’t get me started with the looks of pity they give me either. 

“Thank you both but, please don’t go spending so much on me.”

“But we have to find something you can eat, you’ll just be a… It’s not good for you to starve!”

That - that’s the closest any of them have gotten to saying it outright, they really do just see me as a burden - they aren’t even trying to hide it now. No wonder I’ve always been kept to the side in any fights, Hyrule can’t heal me so I’d just be deadweight if I got hurt, I can’t fight like they can really all I’m good for is as a meat shield to defend them from magic. “Hey [name], are you alright? You zoned out a bit there…”

“Oh, yeah I just - I think I just need to have some time alone if that’s alright? I’ll make sure to stay in distance of the camp.”

“As long as you’re careful and not there too long, I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll tell the others for you.”

I hope he doesn’t.

He seemed content with how I nodded at him, so I should be in the clear to go and just vanish for a while even if it’s just to pretend I’m not causing them issues for a little while.

It doesn’t feel like it takes me long to get to a nice place to sit, so it should still be pretty close to camp - not that they should be worried for me. Somewhere nice and open to sit next to a gentle babbling brook, it’s calm and I’m alone, everything I need at the moment.

Shit - how did I not see a sleeping lynel!? No no, not now I don’t even have a weapon! … What if I did kill it though - their parts can be sold for a fortune… I could pay my way and prove I’m not just useless. Even if I don’t - well they won’t have to worry about me in that case.

It hasn’t seemed to notice me yet, maybe there’s a chance I can come back from it. If I just stay low and as silent as I can then I should be able to jump it. 

Stay quiet, take its weapon. Wow, that’s a lot lighter than Wild makes it out to be. Now to just - Just go for its neck! I - I actually managed to slit its throat!

IT’S STILL ALIVE!?

Okay. OKAY! Its movements are sluggish and it seems to be bleeding out so just get away from it - 

Why - why can’t I feel my arm properly? Why is my shoulder so wet all of a -! The pain hit harder than a truck every nerve on my left side feels like it’s being set ablaze, there wasn’t a single hope of keeping in the scream I just let out, one I didn’t even realise had ripped its way from my throat. Tilting my head down to see the cause; suddenly my body feeling nothing but raw visceral pain suddenly makes a lot more sense than before. The stupid thing cut half through my shoulder with my arm now hanging limply by my side. 

“[NAME]! WHAT ARE YOU DOING - YOU’VE BEEN MISSING FOR HOURS - WHAT Did you - [name]!?”

Wars is here..? Didn’t Wild say I was going off for a bit? Why would he be looking for me? I can’t be worth so much that he’d go off on his own to look for me.

“Oh goddesses [name] what - no, no, no stay awake, you’ve got to stay with me darling.”

“‘m awake… ‘m - still ‘ere…”

Is that really what I sound like right now…  I sound so slurred… like - like how people on tv sounded when they were. Oh.

I’m bleeding out and delirious then, no wonder Wars is ‘here’, he’s just my brain giving me one last happy memory before I kick the bucket. Isn’t that wonderful, to spend my last moments hallucinating my unreciprocated crush caring for me. Closing my eyes feels all too easy, even when I’m about to drift off it still feels as if he’s holding me, maybe this won’t be too bad?

“[Name] don’t you DARE close your eyes, you - I’m not losing anyone else I care about - I can't lose you… I haven't even-”

A harsh slap to the face after a shaky breath - one that feels all too real - has me reconsidering things, the feeling of something tears dropping onto my face is the thing that finally has me opening my eyes despite how hard it is to do so. 

“I - I have some bandages, a potio- no that’s not going to help you I’ve got bandages I just need you to talk to me while I use them, so I know you aren’t close to passing out. You’re going to make it out of this - I need you to make it out of this.”

The agony of him adjusting my arm to bind it, well it’s proof that I am still very much alive. If he really wants me to talk… well then I might as well try to get some answers out of him.

“Why - why ‘re you - wh’ ‘d you come lookin’ fr me?”

“You - vanished for hours without a word, did you really think none of us would get worried? Even if none of the others would, I will always come for you.”

“Hm’ wild said he w’s gonna tell the rs’ o’ you… b’sides ‘m just a burden ‘nt I? Wil’ pretty muh said i’.”

“...Wild. but why would he risk - he wouldn’t put you in the… Don’t worry about what wild says he’s lying, you’re not a burden, even if you were. You’re one I would choose to carry every day for the rest of my life without a single regret. Don’t let what he says get to you, darling.”

Murderous, that’s the best way I could hope to describe the look on his face, it’s like he wants wild dead. His bandages seem to have stopped the bleeding though, so while I still feel lightheaded I should live as long as the wound doesn’t get infected. 

“Wai’ why’r you callin’ me darlin’? ‘M not - you’r…”

A little smirk crossed his face then barely lasting long enough for me to just notice it before it was replaced by concern, did I forget something, I mean it’s not impossible that I also hit my head right? Right?

“But you’re my partner, honeybee, we’ve been together for a few days now - you - you can’t have forgotten that right? If that’s the only price for you surviving, I mean we can always just make better memories. You - You’re still alive and that’s the most important thing.”

Well that’s not impossible, I know I’ve had feelings for him for a while so if he did ask I would’ve said yes…

“We can remake the memories later after you recover. You know I’m so glad that human blood flows slower than ours, those precious few extra seconds are literally lifesaving.”

He’s just babbling to himself now, must’ve been stressed over me; now that I’m safer it’s all just draining out of him. The way he’s clinging to me and shaking shows that fairly well too, like he doesn’t plan to let me out of his arms for a long while. 

“Please never do this ever again, I don’t even know what you were planning but you could’ve died [name], you could’ve died and I wouldn’t have had a chance to say goodbye. Please you have to explain why when you’re better. Please promise me you’ll tell me why.”

“I will Wars, I swear.”

“...That’s all I needed to hear, thank you darling.”

#linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #humans are space orcs #kinda #feels appropriate still <3 #this is the heaviest angst I've written so far lol #moss✦writes #lu warriors x reader #lu warriors #yandere link

[vodika-vibes]

I would love to see Wrecker with Topaz in the winter! Warm soup, cozy fireside snuggles, and just sheer cuteness! 💕

Silent Night

Summary: After Wrecker and the Batch’s Medic are stranded in the middle of a winter wonderland, Wrecker decides to make the best of it.

Pairing: TBB Wrecker x F!Reader

Word Count: 725

Warnings: None

Prompt: Topaz - Affectionate Love

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: This one fought me at every turn. I knew what I wanted it to say, but I'm not sure I managed to make it as soft and sweet as I wanted. Oh well, Happy reading!

“You know, you’re pretty good at this, Doc.” Wrecker says with a grin as his gaze drifts from the fish he’s cleaning, to where the team medic is crouching next to a roaring fire. 

The light from the orange flames gives her an almost ethereal look, and Wrecker has a look away before he gets too distracted. “Well,” She admits as she clears a space of snow, as best as she can, and pulls the tent out of his kit, “Mom and dad divorced when I was a kid. And while mom had a nice house, dad wasn’t so lucky. So his weekends were usually spent camping.”

“So you could probably clean this fish then?” Wrecker asks, as he glances at her curiously.

She smiles sheepishly, “Well, dad did show me how, but you’re doing a wonderful job.”

He grins at her, and sets his knife to the side, “Well, as it happens, I’m done anyway. You have everything set up?”

“Yep. Just toss everything in the pot.”

Wrecker does as she instructs, and watches as she adds a few packets of seasoning, as well as some dehydrated vegetables, “I’m guessing your dad had you doing most of the cooking?”

“Yeah. Well, he wasn’t very good at cooking, really. So it was either learn to cook, or me and my siblings were going to end up with tapeworms or something.” Wrecker sits on the flat rock that she found…somewhere…and starts cleaning his knife.

“You know, you don’t talk about your family often.”

She glances at him, “Well, there’s not really much to say, is there?” She drops the contents of a second package into the pot, and then sits next to Wrecker, “My family is just average.”

“I’m not sure what an average family is,” Wrecker points out, “Though I bet Tech could tell me.”

She laughs, “Right, right. Well, there’s mom. She was a housewife up until she and dad got divorced, and then she got a job at the local elementary school getting me and my siblings free tuition. Dad was a firefighter who had a gambling issue. And then there’s the kids, my other brother, me, and our younger sister.”

“Well, you’re a doctor. What do your siblings do?”

“My brother is a chef at some big name restaurant on Coruscant. My sister is trying to become an actress, though she’s only really starred in commercials.” She shrugs, “Like I said, normal. Your family is so much more interesting.”

He laughs, “That’s one word for them.” Wrecker finishes cleaning his knife and stashes it away, “Are you comfortable?”

“Hm?”

“It’s kind of cold.” Wrecker points out.

“Oh, I’m alright. The fire is helping, and Hunter insisted I wear cold weather gear for this mission.” She hesitates, “Do…do you think-?”

“I’m sure they’re fine. Tech is there, after all.” Wrecker drapes an arm over her shoulder and tugs her against his side, “We’re the ones who have to camp outside in the snow.”

She smiles shyly, “I’m not worried.”

“No?”

“I have you here, don’t I?” She asked with a small, almost flirty, smile.

Wrecker’s heart flips nervously, “I…uh…”

She tilts her head, “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Nah, Doc. I’m just…I’m not Hunter or Crosshair, I’m not used to flirting.” Wrecker admits.

“I’ll stop, if you want.”

“Well now, I didn’t say that.”

She laughs, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, “I like you, Wrecker. You’re fun and you make me laugh and you make me feel safe. I’d like to go on a proper date with you, if I can.”

Wrecker blinks at her, “You…you do?”

“Yeah, if it’s alright.”

“We don’t really…there isn’t much time for proper dating-” Wrecker stammers, “And I don’t get paid-”

“I do get paid, and, well, it doesn’t have to be a big thing, Wrecker. I just want to spend time with you.”

“Well, in that case, can’t this be considered a date?” Wrecker points out.

She looks startled for a moment, and then she beams at him, “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” She lifts to her knees slightly and presses a light kiss against his cheek, before she settles next to him again.

Wrecker presses his hand against his burning cheek, a wide grin that he isn’t even trying to stifle. 

Being stranded here isn’t as bad as it could be.

#star wars #tbb #vodika vibes 500 followers celebration #tbb wrecker x reader #wrecker x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

[virginsexgod69]

3| Stormy Weather

pairing Daryl Dixon x F! Reader

summary You and Daryl get to know each other while cooped up in the bathroom, hiding from the tornado

cw none! This chapter is chill, but kinda heavy in dialogue

1.1k words

Series Masterlist

You and Daryl were both crammed in the empty bathtub, toe to toe with each of your knees to your chests. You didn’t know why you were in the bathtub, but it’s what you remember doing during tornadoes as a child. It was definitely awkward. The two of you sat in silence, avoiding eye contact. 

“So,” you said, opening the door to awkward conversation, his blue eyes snapped up at you. “Did you have a camp before I found you?” 

“Yeah. Lived in the prison with my group. You been here the whole time?” He asked. You sighed and nodded your head, not liking the direction the conversation you started was headed in. “Somewhat. A little after the outbreak, a couple of us took shelter here in my hus- ex husband’s cabin.” You cringed at your almost slip up. 

“Anyway! How’d you get split from your group?” He told you about a man who called himself the Governor and the atrocities he committed on his group. You cringed at the story of what he went through. Because your cabin was in the middle of nowhere, you never really had run ins with any other people, save for the few times you’ve ran into people during runs. You hadn’t realized, or seen first hand how depraved people have become. You were grateful that it was Daryl who stumbled upon your cabin instead of someone like the man from his story. 

“You by yerself now, too?” He asked. 

“Nope. I shot a stranger and now he’s in an empty bathtub with me,” you joked in an attempt to lighten the somber mood. A small smile graced his handsome face at your joke. He didn’t need to know that you were all alone in your cabin because your scumbag of a husband abandoned you in the midst of the apocalypse, so you didn’t tell him. 

“When the weather clears up, are you gonna go out lookin’ for your friends? You asked. He grunted in the affirmative. You couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy you felt. He had people and he seemed pretty dedicated to them. You wondered if they even knew how lucky they were to have someone who’d look for them when they got split up, instead of having someone who couldn’t wait to ditch them, like the people you had. 

“How nice of you,” you bitterly remarked. You didn’t mean to come off so cruel, but for the first time since meeting Daryl, you noticed how lonely you really were. He didn't say anything, but just glared at you. 

"I'm goin' to sleep. Wake me up if something happens." You got as comfortable as you could with your pillow and closed your eyes, willing sleep to come quickly. 

 A loud thud and the sound of glass shattering jolted you awake. You looked around hastily in your state of disorientation before your eyes landed on Daryl and everything started coming back. 

"W-what happened?" you asked blearily. 

"Think a tree fell through a window." Panic shot through your spine. You couldn’t afford any damage to the cabin. Not only was this your home which held so many memories, both good and bad, but this place has kept you safe from the outside’s dangers for so long. A broken window would compromise that.

“I need to go check, I’ll be back,” you said as you scrambled out the tub and rushed for the door. 

“Ain’ no point in checkin’ now. Storm’s still goin’,” Daryl nonchalantly said from the empty tub. He was right and you knew it, but you couldn’t help but feel drawn to leave. Anxiety clawed at your chest causing you to pace in circles around the small bathroom. 

“Wha’s wrong?” He asked, unable to tune out your nervous behavior. He wondered if it had anything to do with those two locked rooms. 

“Nothin’, I’m just worried about my house is all,” you told the half truth. 

“It’s gon’ be fine. It didn’ seem like the tornado’s gon come through here.” Whether he said that to comfort you or not, you couldn’t tell, but it did help you relax a little. 

“Were you a meteorologist before all this or somethin’?” You teased. 

“Nah,” came his reply. Suddenly interested in the man, you sat down on the ledge of the tub to question him further. 

“What did you do before all this, anyway?” 

He removed his thumb from between his lips before he replied with an unsatisfying “Nothin.” You raised your eyebrows at him in disbelief. You didn’t know much, or anything, about him, but people who do nothing don’t usually look like Daryl. “I highly doubt that, but I’m guessin’ this is a touchy subject.” Maybe, if he ends up staying here long enough, he’d open up eventually. 

“I was a marriage counselor, which is kinda ironic since I couldn’t save my own marriage,” you said before laughing to yourself. You had a tendency to overshare when you felt an awkward silence needed to be filled and right now it was biting you in the ass. You bit your tongue to keep yourself from sharing more about yourself since Daryl seemed not to be in the mood for conversation. 

“I jus’ stuck with my brother. Did what he did. Drugs an’ stuff like that,” he replied vaguely. 

“Oh wow, I would’ve guessed you were a model or somethin’.”  

“Wha’ makes ya think that?” He asked. 

“Pfff, look in a mirror when you get the chance.” You wouldn’t even try to deny that the man was good looking. Whenever you made eye contact with him, you felt timid under his piercing blue gaze. When you turned to face him, his ears were a soft pink and the skin of his thumb between his teeth. 

You were woken up by Daryl gently shaking your shoulder. You blinked your eyes open and saw him towering over you, standing outside of the bathtub. 

“C’mon, storm’s calmed down,” he informed as he held a hand out to help you up, which you accepted. Heat tingled in your cheeks when your hand touched his warm one. Your uncertainty from earlier rapidly made a reappearance and you hurried out the bathroom with a curious Daryl not far behind. You sighed in relief when you saw that the living room was fine, relatively untouched by the horrid weather. You then hurried back down the hallway and dug around in your pants pockets until you pulled out a key. Daryl watched closely as you hurriedly unlocked the door. In truth, he wanted to get inside and see where you were hiding his stuff. Even though it was raining pretty hard again, he knew he’d find a sense of comfort knowing where they were in case he needed them beforehand.

 When Daryl first found out those doors were locked, he figured you were keeping something like an armory or pantry out of his reach, considering that he was just a stranger in your home. When you opened the door, he realized that he couldn’t be more wrong. 

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WOO! 3rd chapter, hell yea! >=] thanks for reading <3333

maybe this was kinda obvious, but i have no idea what to do during a tornado! i'm more of an earthquake girlie

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[to-fly-with-clipped-wings]

A Sea of Sorrows -> Act 1, Part 1

Act 1: the Fall of the Gods

Dear Percy. This was the year the Gods fell from Olympus, and I fell from you. I miss the us from that year. I wonder, did either of us know what was in store?

Series Summary: A chronicle of the moments you fell in love with your enemy, Percy Jackson. An epilogue to your fate and an epitaph to your grave.

AKA in a universe where you are a traitor to Camp Half-Blood. This is an ode to the boy that led to your downfall: Percy Jackson.

Series Masterlist

Percy Jackson Masterlist

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

i. Against all odds, you would say that you were looking forward to the Yancy school trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Yeah, you didn’t really care about art or architecture or the weird little naked statues of the gods (you definitely didn’t appreciate that), but you were looking forward to your first extraction mission as a demigod — even if this little outing of yours couldn’t be considered a quest, and even if it was long overdue.

See, the thing was. Being undetermined was a disease in the world of Greek mythology, and it was a disease that followed you like the plague. it was a curse when your Godly parent refused to claim you, refused to acknowledge you. You were cursed from the start, cursed to run around, seeking kleos, and for what?

For absolutely nothing.

That was something no one let you forget. From your spot on the floor in Cabin Eleven (there wasn’t enough space for you to have an actual bunk), to the brown mass of curls on Grover’s head that frantically kept glancing back at you to make sure that no monster had snuck up on you during the last thirty seconds he hadn’t been looking at you. It even took Chiron about three years worth of convincing to let you go out, as he used the same reason (excuse) over and over again: you aren’t claimed. You don’t know how to defend yourself. It is too dangerous.

That’s what it always boiled down to. 

You weren’t claimed, fine. You could live with that. Probably. You didn’t need to be claimed to be able to fight either. Since your mother’s passing four years ago, you had become a year round camper so you had more training under your belt than, say, ninety percent of the Apollo cabin. Yet, even they were allowed to leave camp and get up to all sorts of nonsense. 

Were you not enough for your godly parent to look up from whatever divine duties they needed to do? Were you not good enough for your godly father to come down to save your mother when she was on her deathbed? You weren’t even sure if your father knew your name. 

You weren’t claimed, and it bothered you. And clearly, it bothered the entire camp too. Not being trusted to do quests or missions, being sent pitying glances from your spot at the Hermes table, limiting your value to who your godly parent was as if that was the only thing that made you, you. Maybe you should’ve just been grateful you were a demigod at all, although sometimes you seriously doubted that. Perhaps you were even just a mortal girl with exceptional Clear Sight. 

Who knew? (Well obviously the gods did, but they were stuck on their thrones in Olympus doing who knows what.)

Anyways, you forced all those stray thoughts out of your mind. It did you no good to wade in your sorrow, especially if no one else thought it was enough to care about. You despised your father, but you could keep it to yourself (for now). 

You sent Grover a small smile when he glanced back at you again. 

Next to you, Percy Jackson, pulled a face. 

Percy was a thirteen year old boy. With staggering sea-green eyes, black hair and tan skin, he was the half-blood Grover had called Chiron out for. For a year, it had been you, him and Grover fighting your way through the hell-hole that was Yancy Academy. Between failing classes, cheating off each other during tests (and failing those anyways because apparently both of you sucked at academics equally) and throwing dirt into Nancy Bobofit’s eyes, whenever she threw her weird bits of peanut-butter-and-ketchup sandwich on Grover, you would say that you and Percy were probably each other’s closest friends. Throughout the year, you and Percy had become each other’s anchor. You shared the burden of academic challenges, often finding peace in the fact that if you were going to fail, at least you’d do it together. 

There was a certain comfort in Percy’s company, a sense of acceptance that was rare and maybe even precious. He never looked at you with eyes of thinly veiled judgement that others often did, nor did he offer unwanted pity, that felt more like a burden than a comfort. It was probably because he had no idea of his demigod heritage, but with Percy, you were just you. Unclaimed, perhaps, but never unseen. 

You liked Percy’s company, and considering he was your best friend, you were impatiently waiting for the day Chiron gave you the all clear to return to Camp Half-Blood. There you and Percy could spend your days picking strawberries, sparring, whatever it was you two wanted to do. And hopefully, Percy would end up being unclaimed, or maybe even the son of a minor god, so you could ride out your days in the Hermes Cabin forever. Maybe one day, you would even be promoted to getting a bunk. That would be especially great. 

“Excited for the trip, Major?” Percy grinned at you. 

(Major was the name Percy had started calling you out of the blue when the two of you first met. You didn’t know what was going through his head when he’d thought of it, or if had even been thinking at all, to be honest, but it unfortunately stuck.)

You sighed, tilting your head on your seat so you could glance at him through the corner of your eyes. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

Ahead of you, Grover squawked when Nancy Bobofit threw another bit of her sandwich at him. 

“I’m going to kill her,” muttered Percy, his eyes darkening at the red-headed girl. You patted Percy’s knee, trying to stop him from leaping at Nancy on the bus. She sucked, but it wasn’t worth Percy getting expelled from Yancy just yet.

Chiron — sorry, Mr. Brunner, led the museum tour.

It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before. Ancient Greek armour (that you knew weren’t that ancient), pots with little dancing figures painted on them, steles with, to no one’s surprise, weird naked statues of gods running across them. It was really nothing special, just the usual artsy stuff mortals were crazy for, but you did get a kick out of Percy snapping at Nancy when Chiron was rumbling about something to do with Greek depression or something.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Percy gave her his nastiest stink-eye.

Everyone laughed. You nudged Percy’s shoulder, and he turned his gaze to you, kicking your shoe in retaliation, before remembering that Chiron and Mrs. Dodds were still there, and they didn’t look all that happy with Percy’s interruption.

Mrs. Dodds was an interesting character. She despised Percy with all of her being (not heart, you weren’t sure if she had a heart), but you would say she had a soft-spot for you. Like whenever she gave Percy after-school detention for blowing up a bin or something, you would turn, smile at you and give you this weird melted candy bar that tasted oddly like hot fudge and sea salt?

While the chocolate was a much appreciated gesture, you didn’t enjoy the way she snapped at Percy, and you agreed that there was something off about her. Like in the way she wasn’t exactly… normal? But you doubted anyone would listen to you anyways, and if Chiron hadn’t picked up on it, then it probably wasn’t important.

“Mr. Jackson,” began the centaur in disguise. “Did you have a comment?”

“No, sir,” said Percy, his cheeks burning red.

Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. “Perhaps you’ll tell us what this picture represents?”

Percy looked to where he was pointing. He nodded slightly, indicating that he knew the answer to that question (if he didn’t that was fine anyways, you would’ve just whispered it to him). “That’s Kronos eating his kids, right?”

“Yes,” Mr. Brunner said, raising an eyebrow. “And he did this because…”

“Well… Kronos was the king god, and —”

“God?” Mr. Brunner asked. 

You flinched slightly when Percy said it; you didn’t think the gods would be willing to hold back if they caught him making that little comment. The gods had incredibly short fuses, and it was often their temper that caused the most destruction — like when Ares shot that one archduke back in 1914 and started World War 1.

“Titan,” Percy fixed. “And…he didn’t trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—”

“Eeew!” squealed some girl from behind you. Honestly same, random girl, same.

“—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans,” Percy powered through, “and the gods won.”

Nancy Bobofit mumbled, “like we’re going to use this in real life. Like it’s going to say on our job applications, ‘Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.’”

You didn’t like Nancy much, but there was probably some merit to her question. The gods cared so much about themselves, that one day they probably would manage to hijack mortal job interviews into a pop quiz of ‘what is Aphrodite’s favourite brand of perfume’ or ‘write a one thousand word essay on why Zeus is most supreme god, explaining clearly why his brothers Poseidon and Hades suck ass.’

You rolled your eyes.

“And why, Mr. Jackson,” Brunner said, “to paraphrase Miss Bobofit’s excellent question, does this matter in real life?”

“Busted,” Grover muttered. 

“Shut up,” hissed Nancy, her face even brighter red than her hair. 

Percy looked pensive for a moment, the most pensive you’d ever seen him apart from when he needed to decide between blue cookies or blue jelly beans. “I don’t know, sir.”

“I see.” Chiron sighed. “Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan’s stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld.”

Kronos. The name sent chills up your spine. The Titan lord who had once ruled before the gods, now a whisper from the past, yet his legacy lingered like a shadow. As Chiron recounted the tale, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of foreboding, a sense that the history of the gods and Titans was not as distant as it seemed.

Your gaze shifted downwards to your trembling hands. You clasp them together to try and steady them. The tales of gods and Titans, of heroes and monsters, they all seemed like distant echoes of a world you were forced into but never truly belonged. You felt the weight of your unclaimed status, a constant reminder of your place, or lack thereof, in this mythological tapestry.

You watched Percy. His fate was yet to unfold, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. He had a path, albeit unknown to him, but you… you were adrift in a sea of uncertainty, a ship without a sail.

The gods, those mighty beings who played with the lives of mortals and demigods alike, they were the root of your turmoil. How easy it must be for them, to watch from their celestial thrones, to judge and to ignore the pleas of their children. Your mother, a casualty of their indifference. She was a life that could have been saved.

And yet, despite the anger that simmered within you, a rage that threatened to boil over with each passing day, you found yourself paralyzed. To hate the gods was one thing, but to act against them? That was a line you weren’t ready to cross. Not yet.

So you clung to the fragile hope that one day, perhaps, they would see you. That one day, your godly parent would claim you, would acknowledge your existence. Until then, you were a torn heart caught between the desire for vengeance and the need for acceptance.

In the days to come, I would stand by you as you discovered the truth. But, when the weight of your destiny became too much to bear alone, my greatest regret was that I could not stand beside you. Your bond was a testament to the strength that friendship and loyalty could bring. Mine was a testament to the darkness and hatred of our world.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

ii. The days after that were a tumultuous mess. You hadn’t understood them yourself.

There was an emergency call back to camp. You and Grover had pulled up to Percy and his mother who were at Montauk Beach, stolen his step-father’s car, drove it all the way to Camp Half-Blood in Long Island, got attacked by Minotaur of all things (it was your first time seeing a monster in real life), then Mrs. Jackson had gotten killed Avengers: Infinity War style and finally, Percy had somehow slain the beast.

He had passed out for a couple of days after that. You took care of him in the infirmary, spoon-feeding him ambrosia, checking his temperature and redressing any bandages. Sometimes, Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, would come in to critically assess Percy with her storm-grey eyes, as though he had mortally offended her or something, before telling you to readjust his pillows and stalking out.

Annabeth scared you a bit (a lot), but with the arrival of Percy and the possibility of him being the one to take her on a quest outside of camp, she had begun to hang around you more often. She was very passionate about architecture, and was also pretty funny when she didn’t look like she wanted to slit your throat. 

You were pretty happy that Chiron had recruited you and Annabeth to show Percy the reins at Camp Half-Blood.

(Although, you weren’t entirely sure why he had asked Annabeth as well, considering that Percy knew you better than he did her, and she had the tendency to freak out new campers. But you guessed it had to do with your ‘lack of understanding of Greek mythology because you were undetermined.’ Like you could control that)

Anyways, you and Annabeth caught Percy up to speed about Camp Half-Blood, and you were only about half-way through when Clarisse La Rue, daughter of Ares, stumbled across you and decided to graciously give Percy the ‘half-blood initiation ceremony’, which was really just sticking his head in the toilet. Before you could fist-fight Clarisse however, what happened after that was what you liked to call The Great Toilet Incident of ‘05, which you were certain went down in camp history and cemented Percy’s place in the darkest parts of Clarisse’s pitch black heart.

“I’ve got training to do. Dinner’s at seven-thirty,” Annabeth said flatly, still dripping wet. “Just follow Major to the mess hall.”

You looked at her in surprise. You didn’t know how she picked up the nickname. You guessed that Percy really did talk a lot in his sleep.

“Guys, I’m sorry about the toilets.” said Percy, not sounding very sorry.

“Whatever.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

Annabeth looked at Percy sceptically. 

The toilet thing probably was Percy’s fault, but you found yourself opening your mouth to defend him anyways. “He doesn’t know how to control his demigod side yet. He only found out he was one of us hours ago.”

She gave you a crippling stare, before sighing and nodding. “Percy, you need to learn that this is your home now.”

“No it’s not!” he protested, crossing his arms.

“It is, Percy,” you offered him a meek smile. “It’s our home, for kids like us.”

“You mean, mentally disturbed kids?”

“I mean not human. Not totally human, anyway,” you said. “Half-human.”

“Half-human and half-what?”

“I think you know,” prompted Annabeth.

“God,” Percy’s brows furrowed for a moment before his eyes widened with realisation. “Half-god.”

You nodded. “Your father isn’t dead, Percy. He’s one of the Olympians.”

“That’s…crazy.”

“Is it? What’s the most common thing gods did in the old stories? They ran around falling in love with humans and having kids with them. Do you think they’ve changed their habits in the last few millennia?” Your tone grew bitter as you spoke and you glanced at the ground, trying to hide your glare.

“But if all the kids here are half-gods—”

“Demigods,” Annabeth said. “That’s the official term. Or half-bloods.”

“Then who’s your dad?” 

You raised your head to look at them. You thought that he probably should’ve been able to guess Annabeth’s godly parent by now — she was basically her mirror reflection after all.

“My dad is a professor at West Point,” Annabeth said. “I haven’t seen him since I was very small. He teaches American history.”

“He’s human,” you summarised to Percy. 

Percy looked confused again.

“What?” snarked Annabeth at him. “You assume it has to be a male god who finds a human female attractive? How sexist is that?”

“Who’s your mom, then?” Percy crossed his arms.

“Cabin six.”

“Meaning?”

Annabeth straightened. “Athena. Goddess of wisdom and battle.”

Percy regarded her, and then turned to you. “Who’s your parent, Major?”

“Ah, well.” You laughed nervously, scratching your cheek. “Er, you know how the kids back in cabin eleven were talking about being undetermined? That’s me. That’s why I’m still stuck in the Hermes cabin, because I haven’t been claimed yet.”

Percy’s eyebrows shot up, and he took a step closer, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer, something that didn’t need words. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, his voice as steady as a ship in calm waters. “Being undetermined doesn’t make you any less of a demigod, right?”

He looked at Annabeth who nodded sincerely. Even if she hadn’t agreed, you didn’t think for a second that Percy would have cared. That was just the sort of person he was.

“And who knows,” he continued, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile that seemed to chase away shadows, “your godly parent might claim you any day now. Until then, I’ve got your back in cabin eleven, alright Major?”

You felt a swell in your chest, a tide of emotion that left you momentarily speechless. You were touched. It astounded you how Percy could be calm — gods, somehow comforting you when he had just been through what were the worst few days of his life. You couldn’t help but crack a smile. Percy had this way of making the world seem okay, even when it felt like you were holding up the sky. 

“Thanks, Perce,” your lips split into a smile. “I’ve got your back, too.”

The two of you grinned at each other before realising Annabeth was still there.

“Do you know who my father is, then?” Percy asked.

“Undetermined,” Annabeth said, “like I told you before. Nobody knows.”

“Except my mother. She knew.”

“Maybe not, Percy.” Annabeth frowned. “Gods don’t always reveal their identities.”

“My dad would have. He loved her.”

You watch Percy, his face a mix of hope and confusion, and you can’t help but feel a surge of protectiveness. The gods, they’re so distant, so wrapped up in their own affairs that they forget the very children they bring into this world. They claim love, they speak of duty, but when it comes down to it, where are they? Not here, not when Percy needed them, not when his mother needed saving. Not when anyone needed anything, but themselves.

It’s a harsh truth. The gods are selfish, caught up in their eternal games, their politics. They don’t bother to save a mother, to comfort a son, to reveal their identities and embrace their children. They leave you all to fend for yourselves, to figure out the world without a guide, without the assurance of a parent’s love. He believes in a father’s love, a love that should have shielded, should have saved. But it didn’t, and the silence from above speaks volumes. 

But you, you won’t let them get to Percy. Because unlike the gods, you know what it means to care.

Don’t you?

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

iii. That night, as the world around you faded into the quiet hush of slumber, a curious sensation took hold—a dream, or so it seemed, yet not quite. Dreams were fleeting. They often slip through the fingers of your mind, vanishing from your memory once you woke up. But for some strange reason, you felt the trickling trail of deja vu climbing up your spine. 

You think that you’ve had this dream before. Probably.

A shiver of recognition danced up your spine, a whisper of memory that felt like an old friend—or perhaps a ghost from the past. It was a dream that had etched itself into the grooves of your mind, returning with the silent stealth of a cat prowling in the night.

You strained to recall the last time this dream had visited you. It could’ve been a year ago, a month ago — even last night. But you did know that you’d had it. This dream had treaded the halls of your sleep before.

In the realm of dreams, you found yourself wandering through an ancient forest, the moonlight casting ethereal shadows upon the ground. The air was thick with the scent of pine and the whisper of leaves. The moon, a sliver in the sky, provided scant illumination, casting long, haunting shadows that danced between the ancient trees. Your footsteps were muffled on the forest floor, as though the earth itself conspired to keep your passage secret.

As you ventured deeper into the heart of the woods, a creeping fog began to rise, slithering between the trunks like a living being. It seemed to follow you, to surround you, and with it came a cold that seeped into your bones. The mist grew denser, a tangible presence that drew closer with every passing moment.

You reached out, fingers brushing against the cool vapour, and felt a presence—an ancient, powerful force that had been lurking in the corners of your dreams for as long as you could remember.

And then, without warning, the forest fell away, and you found yourself standing at the edge of a clearing. The mist swirled here, gathering strength. From the heart of the mist, a figure materialised. It was tall and imperious, its form shifting and wavering as if woven from the fog itself. Its eyes, when they met yours, were bottomless pits of darkness, and you felt yourself falling into them.

“Child,” it spoke, and the words seemed to resonate with the very fibres of your being. “I have watched you, and I know the suffering you’ve been dealt by the gods.”

“They have wronged you, as they have wronged me,” the figure continued, the mist swirling with every gesture. “They sit in their celestial palace, blind to the struggles of those below. But I see your potential, your desire for justice. Together, we can make them regret.”

In the quiet of your dream, your heart stirred. You did not know who this figure was or what he wanted from you, but his words reached you. The gods, those distant watchers, had become but silhouettes against your tribulations, their figures blurred by the tears of your unanswered calls. Beings who had turned their back on you, refused to acknowledge when it mattered. Left you unclaimed, left your mother to die, left Percy’s mother to die and since the beginning of time, left humanity to suffer in a cyclic torture. 

And, so close, was the embrace of the mist — echoing your fury, validating your resentment. 

“Why should I join you?” you asked, though part of you already yearned for the vengeance he promised.

“Because your rage is a weapon that can reshape the world,” the mist replied, its form growing more defined, more commanding. “The gods fear what they cannot control, and they cannot control the fury of the heart. Join me, and we will turn that fury into a force that will shake the heavens.”

The dream held you captive, the reality of it as undeniable as the mist that enveloped you. The mist’s words were a poison, sweet and lethal, but before you could utter another word, as the dream reached its peak, as you teetered on the cross-roads of a decision that could alter the course of history, it began to unravel. 

The forest, the mist, the towering figure of the mist — all faded into the ether, leaving you alone in a barren land of tempestuous silence.

You awoke with a start, the remnants of the dream clinging to you like cobwebs. An anger still simmered within you, stoked by something you could not quite place your finger on. An unsettling feeling rose and fell with every breath you took. 

What just happened?

You tried to think back to your dream that night, but as you’d found yourself everyday for the last couple of months, you couldn’t remember a thing. Well, maybe except for a pressing throb within the depths of your mind.

Strapping your head-piece securely on, blue plumes spilling from the top. Your armour was strapped on and you were decked out in metal from head to toe. You double-checked that your sword was tucked into your sheath before joining the Athena alliance in their march for the Capture the Flag match.

You quite liked Capture the Flag. It was one of those games where you had to do something and everyone got to run around and play — albeit, Camp Half-Blood kids did run around like headless chickens most of the time.

Percy scrambled to catch up with, tripping over his shin-guard that was a few sizes too big for him. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you grinned at him.

“So what’s the plan?” He asked. “Got any magic items you can loan me?”

You shook your head. “Nah. Sorry. Magical items are things you get from your godly parent when they feel like it. I haven’t got anything.” you waved at your basic sword for effect. “That’s why I usually go with one of the spare swords from the training shed.” You pointed at his pocket. “You’ve got Riptide, though, haven’t you? That’s more than enough.” Percy shrugged. “I don’t have it anymore, it vanished. I’m stuck with a regular, boring sword like you.” You frowned at this. Didn’t Chiron give it to him? He should still have it, shouldn’t he? “That’s strange. Just make sure Clarisse’s spear doesn’t touch you, it's electric and stings like hell. Annabeth will handle getting the banner from Ares.”

He gave you a lopsided smile. “Okay, Major.” He said ‘Major’ with the same tone you would call someone ‘Bossy’.

You laughed before catching him by the strap of his armour when he tripped over again. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Border patrol, whatever that means.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “That’s easy. Stand by the creek, keep the reds away.”

“What’re you doing?” You rubbed your chin thoughtfully. “I think I’m supposed to be a decoy for Luke when he runs for the flag.”

Percy looked at you appraisingly. “I guess you do look like him. I see how that would work.”

He swerved to avoid getting a faceful of the dirt you’d kicked up at him with your shoes. 

Percy then started chasing you down to the creek where the Athena alliance were planting their flag, similar to how the satyrs would chase the dryads near the strawberry patch albeit a lot slower because of his armour that was triple his body weight.

You stopped when you reached the silver flag, causing Percy to topple into you and send the both of you flying into the ground. You laughed, tugging the boy up with your hands and punching him in the shoulder. He huffed before waving at you and walking down to the creek to assume his duty of border patrol. 

You went to stand by Luke.

Overall, you would say Capture the Flag was a success. 

The Athena win streak was not lost this match, and you got to beat down one of the Hephaestus kids with your sword, which was always a pretty good bonus. The blue team cheered loudly, carrying Luke on their shoulders as he waved the Ares flag about in the air. You were going to join them when you saw Percy, drenched in water, arguing with the air.

“I told you. Athena always, always has a plan,” said the air before shimmering and revealing Annabeth with her invisible yankee cap.

“A plan to get me pulverised,” snapped Percy. His arms were crossed as he stared down the daughter of Athena.

“I came as fast as I could. I was about to jump in, but…” She shrugged. 

“You didn’t need help?” you suggested, popping up between them.

Percy’s glare dropped as he saw you. “Sup, Major. I’m guessing decoying for Luke went well?”

“The best,” you agreed before noticing the wound on his arm. “How did you do that?”

“Sword cut,” He said, rolling his eyes. “Stupid Clarisse and her pig-headed minions.”

“No,” Annabeth interjected sharply. “It was a sword cut. Look at it.”

You watched, incredulous, as the blood disappeared. Where a gaping wound had been, only a faint line lingered, and even that was fading fast. In moments, it dwindled to a mere scratch, then vanished as if it had never been.

The smile slipped from your face.

“I—I don’t get it,” he said.

Annabeth was deep in thought, face wrinkled in concentration, and you could only imagine the intense mental gymnastics happening behind her gaze. “Step out of the water, Percy.”

“What—”

“Just do it.”

Percy emerged from the creek, hair plastered to his face and body bone-tired, but strangely enough, completely dry. He swayed on his feet, and you reached out to steady him, your touch firm. 

“Oh, Styx,” Annabeth cursed. “This is not good. I didn’t want…I assumed it would be Zeus.…”

You could only meet Percy’s gaze in a muted horror. 

Of course you’d picked up on Annabeth’s train of thought. But the revelation left you reeling. You couldn’t believe it. I thought… of course they wouldn’t stick to the oath. This —... the one thing! How could they? What? 

Your jaw clenched, and your grip on Percy tightened unconsciously.

Percy opened his mouth but before he could say anything, a canine howl reverberated throughout the forest.

Everyone tensed and Chiron barked out “Stand ready! My bow!”

Above you, a monstrous creature crouched on the craggy ledge, its silhouette massive against the sky. Its eyes burned like coals from the depths of a forge, and its massive jaws bristled with teeth, each one as lethal as a freshly honed blade. It stared down at you with an intensity that pierced through your body.

A hellhound. Your eyes widened, gripping the handle of your sword.

Nobody moved except you, who yelled, “Percy, run!”

You tried to step in front of the boy, your sword clutched in between your fingers. The hellhound barked, and although you expected it to forget Percy and redirect its course to you, it dove past you (ignoring you completely) and ripped into Percy’s armour.

You didn’t look back as Chiron and the Apollo cabin took care of the hellhound, focusing on Percy whose chest was blooming with deep, red bloodstains.

“Percy!” You cried out, dropping to your knees beside him. Your fingers fumbled with his chestplate, trying to ignore the slick, warm blood that coated your hands.

“Di immortales!” Annabeth exclaimed. “That’s a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don’t…they’re not supposed to…”

“Someone summoned it,” Chiron announced, trotting over. “Someone inside the camp.”

The dead body of the hellhound melted into the shadows, presumably returning back to the Underworld, only, you didn’t care. What you cared about right now was Percy Jackson who was drenched in blood with a horrific gash torn into his body.

“You’re wounded,” Annabeth told Percy as if no one knew that. “Quick, Percy, get in the water.”

You draped Percy’s arm around your shoulder, helping him step into the creek with little protest.

“Chiron, watch this,” Annabeth said.

As Percy staggered into the creek, the water seemed to greet him like an old friend. The blood that had painted his clothes a grim crimson began to dissolve, carried away by the gentle current. You watched as the gruesome wound in his chest closed before your very eyes. The torn flesh knit together, leaving not even a scar behind. It was as if time had reversed, as if the claws of the hellhound had never touched him.

But that wasn’t the part that stunned you the most.

“Look, I—I don’t know why,” Percy tried to apologise. “I’m sorry.…”

“Percy,” Annabeth said, pointing. “Um…”

There was a sign above Percy’s head, an unmistakable one that no one did not know. A hologram of green light, spinning and gleaming. A three-tipped spear: a trident.

“Your father,” Annabeth whispered. “This is really not good.”

“It is determined,” Chiron stated solemnly.

Campers knelt around you, even those from Ares’ cabin, though they did so grudgingly.

“My father?” Percy was bewildered.

“Poseidon,” said Chiron. “Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God.”

A shadow was drawn upon your face, eyes fixated on the trident above Percy’s head. The throb in your head returned and all you felt was a torrent of fervent, quivering, absolute rage that coursed through you.

I know that it wasn’t your fault, Percy, but at that moment, I couldn’t think of anything else.

iv. Being a demigod was a curse. 

It was a relentless burden, especially when you had been confined within the walls of Camp Half-Blood for four years, and still, your divine parent remained a shadow, unclaiming and aloof. 

You found yourself in the misty lands of your forest dreamscape. This night, the mist gushed and swirled around you, almost preparing to engulf you within it.

You lifted your face to the heavens, rain simmering on your face like little angels doting you with frigid kisses, each drop mingling with the silent tears that trembled down your cheeks. It was almost as though you were praying, but you knew better than that.

Prayer had once been a solace, a hope, but now it felt like a bitter reminder of divine neglect.

You didn’t pray often, actually, you avoided the thing all together. Why pray to gods — a god, who has forsaken you? You lifted your face to the heavens, rain mingling with the tears on your cheeks. Prayer had once been a solace, a hope. Now, it was a bitter reminder of divine neglect.

Your heart seethed with a silent fury, a hatred for the gods who had ignored your existence, even as they favoured others. The injustice of it all burned within you, a fire that no rain could extinguish.

Beyond the visceral surge of anger, there was a profound sense of betrayal — a feeling that the gods had once again overlooked your years of waiting and longing for recognition. 

With a heavy heart, you spoke into the storm, “You could have saved her, but you didn’t.” 

The words hung in the air. “My mother. She was one of your most faithful, but, when she needed you most, you turned away. Why? Was her devotion not enough?”

The silence that followed was your answer. “You say you watch over us, you care for us, but where were you?”

Your voice broke as you continued, “And what about me? For years, you ignored me — you still ignore me. For years, you left me to fight for myself in a world that you created. I don’t understand. We’re your children, aren’t we? Aren’t we supposed to matter to you? We deserved better.”

“You’re supposed to be our parents. We deserve someone who would fight for us, who would value our lives. But what do we get instead?! Fucking selfish deities, with all the power in the entire goddamn world who leave us to suffer and die in some sick game you orchestrate just because you can!”

“You don’t understand! I’ve waited my whole life for just a sign from you. Our whole lives revolve around you! What more could you want from us?” The tears of the sky dripped onto your shaking form. “You claim Percy like it’s a joke to you. Two days after he learns you even exist, you take him into a world you’ve barred me out of for my entire life!”

The thunder seemed to mock your pain, and you trembled with a mixture of cold and fury. “You take him from me, like I haven’t suffered enough. You take, take, take until there’s nothing more to give! What do you want from me?!”

You were screaming at the sky now, head pulsing with nothing but red-hot rage. “I’m done waiting! You’ve shown me exactly what we mean to you — nothing!”

Something clasped your shoulder. 

Turning around, your heart caught in your throat. Your eyes trembled, pupils dilated at the sudden contact. As you turned away, a presence enveloped you, not the warm embrace of a father, but the cold touch of something ancient and powerful.

A dark mist surrounded you. The air crackled with static, a lingering feeling of something you couldn’t quite name. 

“I can help you,” he whispered, his words slithering through the air. “The gods have overlooked you, ignored your potential. But I see it. Together, we can overthrow them, claim the justice and recognition you deserve.”

You stood still, the realisation dawning on you like a cold sunrise. This was Kronos, the Titan King, the very essence of time and treachery. The air around you grew colder, the mist swirling with a newfound intensity.

The mist around you thickened, and Kronos’s voice became more insistent, laced with false promises. “I can help you,” he whispered again, the words slithering through the air like a serpent.

“Think of it,” he continued, the mist now taking on a more convincing form, a figure of authority and power. “With my aid, you could rise above the gods who have wronged you. Your suffering will not be in vain. We will make them pay for their indifference. Pay for how they left your mother all those years ago, how they abandoned you and your fellow demigods for their own selfish desire.”

You felt the anger and sorrow within you stir, manipulated by his words. It was a dangerous game he played, but in your heart, the seeds of rebellion had been sown. 

“Join me,” whispered Kronos.

“Yes,” you found yourself saying, the word escaping your lips before doubt could take hold. “Yes, I will join you.”

With a resolve born of grief and betrayal, I turned my back on the sky and walked away. That was the moment I swore my life to Kronos. It was the moment, I think, that sealed our fate. 

I wish I could’ve said sorry to you, Percy, when I had the chance.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Random fun fact: Major is anti-government and hates taxes 🥶😊, she also likes liquorice

taglist!!! (comment if you want to be added): @itzmeme

#percy jackson #percyjacksonxoc #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #percy pjo #annabeth #grover underwood #the titans curse #percy x reader #percy x hades reader #percy x traitor! reader #percy x hades! traitor! reader #percyjacksonxreader #percyxreader #percy jackson x reader #pjo #luke castellan #luke castallen x reader #percy jacksonxreader #percyxoc #pjo angst #hades! reader #daughter of hades! reader #angst #percy jackson x hades! traitor! reader #percyjacksonxhades!traitor!reader #percyxyou #percy x you #percy jackson x you #percyjacksonxyou

[arcadian-litterateur]

it's raining | will poulter x reader

Masterlist

summary: a cutesy little drabble about will picking you up while it's raining

wc: 852

a/n: these are so much fun to write...do you guys like these little drabbles about will being a hopeless romantic?

\𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗡 𝗬𝗢𝗨’𝗗 left for your meeting earlier, you'd feel so excited to feel the sun shining on your face that you'd slipped your cute leather flats onto your feet, glad they were black and matched your outfit. With a blazer thrown over a cute blouse tucked into a pencil skirt, you were the picture of chic professionalism, perfect for the meeting that you were presenting at. Your work at a talent agency right outside Hollywood was not only enough to pay the bills and then some, it also gave you the chance to help build up young actors. The more representation your talent agency got, the less bogus talent agencies would thrive. That's why you worked so hard in your marketing job: you wanted to get the talent agency's name out there. 

Your car was currently in the shop getting a new door after some idiot had t-boned you and completely crushed the passenger side back door the week before. You were fine; just shaken, but your car was a different story, so now your boyfriend, Will, was acting as your chauffeur. You'd tried to protest and say it was too much work for him, but he was in town anyway for several award ceremonies, so you let him drive you around. It had only been in the last year that he'd learned how to drive; you'd taught him yourself, but he was surprisingly good at it for being so new to it. 

Though, maybe he was just extra careful when you were in the car. Come to think of it, he did always refer to you as ‘precious cargo.’ 

Your presentation had gone smoothly, your words flowing like honey as you successfully pronounced every word, even the ones you'd had to review a million times the night before. Will had stayed up extra late to help you prepare even though he had to be functional today, and it warmed your heart to think of his kindness. He was such a thoughtful man, and sometimes, you wondered how you'd gotten so lucky. 

The media wondered that, too, but the first time a reporter had dared to camp out on your lawn and ambush you with that question when you left your house, Will had confronted the man—first with words, then with his fist. He'd let it act as a warning to anyone who tried to interrupt your personal life, and you were grateful. Thankfully, your own insecurity had died down once you got used to the fact that you were dating a celebrity. No one was ever good enough for one of them in the media's eyes. Upon remembering that, you found that you no longer cared what they had to say.

After a long day at work that felt twice as tiring because of your presentation earlier, you watched the clock turn to 5:00, a groan of relief worming its way out of your throat. Finally. It was time to go home and eat dinner and then crash onto your bed and sleep for fifteen years. You almost forgot that Will was picking you up, jumping in surprise when you heard a throat being cleared.

“Love?” the British man chuckled with a bemused smirk. Your face morphed from startled confusion to happiness as you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him lift your feet several inches off the ground as you nuzzled into his neck.

“Baby,” you hummed in tired satisfaction, resting your forehead against his chest playfully as he rubbed your arms soothingly. You soaked in the sensation, loosely wrapping your arms around his waist to pull him closer to you.

“Don't you want to go home?” Will laughed, using your shoulders as leverage to push you away from his body a few feet, but only so he could look into your eyes.

“Yeah, but I'm tired,” you grumbled.

“An even better reason to head home, then,” Will grinned. You nodded, too exhausted to argue as you packed up everything you would need that evening before shutting off your office light. 

When you reached the clear front door, you let out a noise of dismay as you took in the rain hurtling from the gray sky above, water splashing in the parking lot. 

“What's wrong?” your boyfriend asked, worried.

“It's raining,” you whined. “Just another way to ruin my day.” 

“Why does rain ruin your day?” Will inquired, genuinely curious. I sighed as if he was supposed to know, my annoyance getting the best of me.

“Because these shoes are leather. The shoes will be ruined.” Will just chuckled, patting your head. “What?” you eyed him suspiciously.

“You think I'd let your shoes get ruined?” he asked, pretending to be offended. “I would never allow such a tragic event to occur.” Before you could ask what he was going to do about it, Will had swept you off your feet in a bridal carry, your squeal of surprise making the British man smile.

“Don't worry, Cinderella,” Will murmured as he collected your things before sprinting across the parking lot to his car. “Your shoes will be just fine.”

the end

#will poulter #will poulter fic #will poulter fluff #will poulter headcanon #will poulter sfw #will poulter drabble #will poulter x reader #fanfiction #fluff #one shot

[fieldofdaisiies]

I’m so sorry and I know it says your requests are close so you can ignore this but this is stuck on my mind and I will literally forget about it but I feel like azriel would be the person to adopt because the child reminded of him when he was younger.

Anyway hope you’re having a good day/night whatever time it is for you(timezones suck)

oh I love this thought, I will turn it into headcanons. I really don’t want to ignore it, so I hope it is fine that way❤️

it all happens on a visit to Windhaven

when Azriel walks up to the hut of Devlon he will notice a little boy sitting in the mud, one wing crumbled, hanging lifelessly behind his back

he meets Azriel's eyes through a glassy gaze and when Azriel walks up to him he starts crying Azriel's heart breaks and he reaches his hand out. "Hello, buddy. I am Azriel, let's get you inside, you freezing out here."

Azriel picks up the little boy, he must only be three to four years old and Azriel's heart break when the little boy immediately snuggles to into his chest, fisting his Illyrian leathers

instead of Devlon's hut, Azriel opts for Rhysand's mother's old hut

he brings the little boy blankets, and a hot cocoa

when Azriel wants to leave him alone for a little bit, but the little boy grabs his scarred hand and holds onto it

Azriel stays with him, preparing a little meal for the boy so he can it

only later he finds out that the boy is an orphan, he does not know his father and his mother died due to an illness

the little boy is all alone and this nearly destroys Azriel because he knows what being alone feels like

when Azriel leaves in the evening he tells one of the laundry women to take care of the boy for the night and he will return in the morning

at home he discusses it all with you, saying he would like to adopt

your hesitate for a moment, but then the answer is actually clear

YES

and so the next day you both go to Windhaven and Azriel picks up the little boy whose name is Barrian

he introduces him to you and you immediately see so much of Azriel in him even though they are not related

Devlon needs no convincing to let the two of you adopt the little boy, as long as he joins the war camp once he is old enough

for now you agree

and obviously you ask the little boy if he wants that and if he wants to move to Velaris with you

he does, obviously and smiles for the first time

and so a completely new life, one no one out. of the three of you could have imagined just two days before

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar x reader #azriel headcanon

[zeldaelmo]

Congratulations on your two milestones!

Have fun:

“What do you mean you ate it?”

Hey B! Thank you for your prompt! This was fun. 😆 Thank you @flutefemme for betareading!

Imagine Link speed ran both games for this. He didn't do the tears quest apart from the one Impa half-dragged him into. Crack fic, kinda, takes place after the ending.

Of Rocks

Link peeks into the cooking pot and then back at Zelda who sits on a log and scribbles furiously in a notebook. He speaks up anyway; she usually gives him her attention if he keeps talking. Old habit from when he hardly got words out.

“I'll have to admit, I was a little confused earlier, you know, back with Rauru and… his wife. What did you say was her name?” He shakes his head to himself. Sometimes he thinks his memory took more damage than they thought.

“Sonia,” Zelda breathes absently and continues taking notes.

“Yeah, Sonia. Anyway, maybe you can tell me more about this Light Dragon thing.”

That makes her look up. She rubs her ink-stained fingers at each other, frowning when he underlines his words with the sign for ‘noodle’. Another old habit.

“Did it… swallow you?" he asks. "Kinda like the Calamity?”

The fire under the cooking pot pops and Zelda sighs like she always does when he brings stray animals home or weapons that are too good to be tossed away (they are!).

“You didn’t search for the geoglyphs, did you? Just like you ignored the pictures on the slate the first time. I even made them easier to find this time, they’re glowing in the dark and all.”

He narrows his eyes on her. “Zelda. You fell into the abyss when we accidentally stumbled over the mummy of the Demon King. You were gone. Poof, swallowed by golden light. So, no, I didn’t feel like searching for anything but you.”

She stares at him for a moment, but then she puts her notebook aside, and faces him fully. “The secret stone here”—she taps the golden, tear-shaped gem on her necklace—”it amplifies the powers of the wielder. It can also be used to perform a forbidden ritual that turns the wielder into a dragon who isn’t bound to the limits of time. Performing that ritual was the only way to heal the sword for you.” Her gaze searches the small clearing where they’ve set up camp on their way to Hateno. It's not far from where they fell from the sky.

Link points his thumb in the general direction behind him where the sword leans against his pack. “I got it, no worries. Didn’t forget how mad you were the last time when I rushed to the castle with a soup ladle.” He lifts the stew-covered one currently in his hand for good measure. Then, he mulls over what she said and tries to piece it together with the strange things that happened in the sky. Or realm. Might as well have been a different realm with the clouds, the hovering, and all that. He stirs the soup, watching her through his lashes. “So, the Light Dragon, that was you?”

“Yes.”

Now that answer came quicker than he had expected. “Huh.” He scratches his head. “So, the other dragons, Naydra, Dinraal, and Farore…”

“Were once priestesses who swallowed a secret stone to guard the springs eternally, yes.”

“Wait.” He leans the ladle against the brim of the pot and frowns.

“What do you mean, you ate it?”

“Well, it’s part of the ritual.” She crosses her arm in front of her, voice growing impatient.

Yes, yes, he should have tried to find more of the geo-thingies. They would probably have explained everything, but they've been through this before; he doesn't feel like dabbling when her life is on the line. And he didn't even have amnesia this time!

“So when you eat a stone that's fine but when I do it, you get mad?”

She blinks and blinks and blinks. He clicks his tongue. Seems like she has been mad at him so often that she can’t even remember it.

“Goronia,” he jogs her memory.

“Oh!” she calls and leaps up, the notebook toppling into the grass. “Oh, now that was completely different!”

“Is it now? You ate rocks, I ate rocks. Seems pretty similar to me,” Link says, unwrapping a dark clump directly in front of her eyes. His little diversionary tactic nearly works out when he drops it into the cooking pot and the whole content shifts to a dark blue, but she shakes off the urge to investigate.

“You ate the rock roast for sports. For me, there was no alternative to this measurement. I took the risk of losing myself entirely to give you a fighting chance!”

“Well, I saved diplomatic relationships with the Gorons, as you surely remember. And just for the record, it was a Rock Roast Flambé.”

“You are ridiculous and you know it.”

“Ridiculous, huh? The Princess of Hyrule causing a scandal by refusing to eat traditional food prepared especially for her? I saved your ass back then.” By now, he can’t help the grin tugging at his lips. Her eyes flash dangerously when he passes her a bowl of dark soup. "What?" He laughs. "It's true and you know it. Just admit that you're just as unhinged as I am."

"It was a sacrifice," she insists, blowing over her spoonful of blue soup. "For Hyrule. And you. Although you make me second-guess myself about the latter."

"Ah, come on. You seemed pretty happy to see me earlier although it has hardly been two weeks."

"Two we—" she starts, her spoon freezing mid-air and soup dripping back into her bowl.

"I know, I know, last time I only needed a couple of hours after I woke up. Rauru kept holding me back. Tricked me into thinking you were at the sky island."

"Well," she deadpans. "It sure felt like an eternity for me."

He knows he's missing something with the way she chuckles dryly, but she'll bring it up again later. He'll feel stupid for the things he said, then, but she says it's part of his charm, so he doesn't mind.

They eat in amicable silence, fire cracking and soup simmering. Farore buzzes in the distance, climbing the skies at her own, leisurely pace. Link's gaze follows her for a while, but then he turns back to Zelda.

"Did you chew it?!"

"Link!!!!!!"

#zelink #zeldaelmo writes #legend of zelda #totk spoilers #totk #I live for smart Link #But this was fun too

[bunnyslize]

Keep Me Awake [Swagtre Fanfic]

Just a good old swagtre fluff, might be OOC. (idk if this should be teen rating or mature but it contains making out and stuff so yeah)

Entre’s laying on his cot, tired out of his mind. Late at night yet he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in bed, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. It was no use, he didn’t feel like sleeping either so Entre decided to take a quick walk, walking might clear his mind from everything. He walked around the camp, checking each tent to see if anyone was awake. Not surprisingly, most of them were asleep. He tiptoed around, trying not to wake anyone when suddenly he felt a touch on his shoulders.

“Ahhh!” Entre screamed, surprised and scared at the same time. Who could this possibly be? Was he gonna end up like one of those horror movie characters? Thoughts swarmed upon his head as he trembled in fear, only to realize that it was Swag behind him.

“Ha! You should’ve seen the look of your face, so fucking hilarious.” Swag chuckled as he was trying hard not to laugh out loudly.

“God damn it Swag… You almost gave me a heart attack.” Entre sighed as he looked upon Swag with tired eyes.

“So, what are you doing out here late anyways?”

“I couldn’t sleep. What are YOU doing out here?”

“I couldn’t sleep either.” Swag grins as he gazes upon Entre’s tired face. “So, how about we go inside my tent or something, it’s late.”

“No, why would I-” Before Entre could say a thing, Swag grabs Entre’s hand and pulls him to his tent.

“Geez! Ok fine, I'll do what you want, it’s not like I’ve got anything to do so.” Entre muttered as he sat on Swag’s cot. Swag did the same, sitting right next to the other Once-ler. The two just sat there in silence, not knowing what to say. So quiet that they could hear each other’s breathing. Entre gulped as he felt awkward sitting with Swag like this. He couldn’t read Swag’s face because he was wearing sunglasses, even when it was dark. Why was he wearing them this late anyways? He could tell that Swag was smirking now, he definitely noticed that he was staring at him; Entre turned his head around in embarrassment.

After a few seconds of staring at the wall, he felt a slight touch on his hand, which he tried to ignore but it was too ticklish to do so. Swag was brushing his fingers against his, ever so slightly touching his fingers, playing with them. God damn, was he messing with him again? Entre could feel his stomach churn a bit, but not in a bad way, it felt weird. He just sat there, letting Swag play with his hand whatever he liked. It was not long till Entre felt Swag grabbing his hands, intertwining their fingers together. He almost jumped, face heating up inaudibly. Swag gave his hand a slight squeeze, making the younger Once-ler almost jump again. His face felt too hot, and his hands felt too sweaty.

With his thumb, Swag brushed it against Entre’s hand slightly. Was he trying to tell him something? God, this felt too intimate, his face felt like burning and Swag’s hand felt soft due to the glove he was wearing. Entre squeezed his hand back, wanting to feel the softness of Swag’s hand more. He could tell that Swag was smirking again, holding his hand tightly then ever.

“Gay.” Swag grinned as he squeezed his hands once again. Entre trembled, this shouldn’t be making him this shy, he thought.

“Y-you were the one who grabbed my hand…!” Entre blurted back, but still held Swag’s hand tightly.

“God, your face is so red.” Swag chuckled, suddenly letting his hand go. Entre sighed at the loss of contact, did he like it? No, he didn’t. He didn’t…? Thoughts were swarming again, but it stopped when He felt another touch on his body. Swag was now on his lap, straddling him, placing his hands on his shoulder and waist. Entre felt his heart jumping out of his throat, what the fuck was going on now? He was messing with him so badly, but Entre couldn’t say no. It felt weirdly good for some reason. Swag was half hugging him, Entre decided to hug him back with his two trembling hands, placing them on Swag’s back. He caressed Swag’s back lightly, not sure what was doing, but went along with his instinct.

Their bodies were pressed tightly, being able to feel their heartbeats combined, Entre hoped that Swag couldn’t feel it much since his heart was pounding out trying to break free from his chest. But Swag’s heart was beating as much as his, maybe he felt the same? He could feel Swag’s breath ghosting on his face, Still he couldn’t tell what Swag was thinking because of those stupid sunglasses, he decided to take those off. With one hand, he slowly took the sunglasses off him, revealing Swag’s pretty, half-lidded blue eyes. Swag didn’t say a word, but stared at Entre intensely. They both stared at each other for a while, lost in the gaze. He still couldn’t tell what Swag was thinking, but he could tell that he had a slight blush on his face.

Entre wanted to kiss that fucker so badly. He wanted to kiss that lips of his really badly. His lips were a bit chapped, but still it looked so kissable. Wait, what was he thinking? He shook his thoughts away but couldn’t keep staring at Swag’s pretty lips. Swag took notice of this and grinned, that infamous shit-eating grin was plastered over his face. Fuck, he noticed it. Entre purposefully avoided his gaze, feeling embarrassed but couldn’t help but keep peaking at his face from time to time.

Suddenly, he felt something wet on his face, and a face pressed against him. Swag placed a tongue on his cheek, licking him. Entre almost jumped for the third time, his face heating up. He trembled as he could feel Swag’s face so close to him and the tongue so close to his face, he was teasing him.

“Stop messing with me, you don’t know what you're doing…” Entre trembled out as he now felt Swag’s lips on his cheeks, almost kissing the same spot.

“Maybe or maybe not.” Swag pressed his lips on Entre’s cheeks, softly kissing him. Entre was going to explode if Swag kept teasing him. But oh, how the kiss on his cheeks felt so wonderful. Swag’s face was pressed right on his, breath ghosting on his face.

Entre decided to take matters himself, getting closer to Swag’s lips, trying to kiss him. They were so close, too close that their lips were inches apart. He paused for a moment, breathing Swag’s air. Entre made his move, pressing his lips against Swag’s chapped ones. To his surprise, Swag kisses him back, their lips stayed pressed for a good minute till Swag pulls away first.

“This is so gay.” Swag chuckles as he kisses Entre again, rubbing Entre’s back gently. Entre’s lost in the kiss, he parts his lips slightly, and as soon as he does that Swag’s tongue meets his. He gently sucked on Entre’s tongue, causing him to whimper slightly. This time, Entre pulls out first, panting and gasping for air. Swag gave no time for Entre to relax as he softly placed his lips against his, this time firmer than the last time, his tongue slightly tickling the other’s chapped lips. Entre’s heart thumped as he felt his lip tickle against the sly touch of his.

Swag heatedly slid his tongue inside Entre’s parted lips. He gave a playful suck on his tongue once again, his fingers ghosting over his neck. Entre followed suit, flicking his tongue over the older’s. His hands dug in his hair, but not enough to hurt. The butterflies in his stomach were going crazy as Swag’s tongue rolled over him lusciously.

Their lips parted against each other, both breathing heavily now as Swag wrapped his arms around Entre's body, pressing his own tightly on his, both being able to feel their heartbeats beating against their chests. The two panted, staring at each other for a good while, breathing each other’s scent. Two of them were consumed in the moment not knowing what to say anymore, just gazing upon each other's lustful eyes with flustered expressions. Swag gave tender kisses on the flushed boy’s jawline, rubbing his back with his free hands.

They were just enjoying the warmth of each other, till Swag made his way towards Entre’s neck. Swag’s breath ghosted on his neck, he was hungrily staring at it. Entre’s face heated up as he felt Swag sensually sucking his neck skin. His tongue lapped over his neck, Entre could feel his blush spreading down all over as Swag lavished his neck with kisses and licks. It felt ticklish to have someone licking his neck, but it somehow turned him on by judging by the small sounds that escaped from his throat.

His mind started to go numb as Swag started to nibble on it, still gently sucking his skin as well. Swag’s free hand was still rubbing his back, hands all over him. He bit his neck, not hard enough to break skin, earning a sharp moan out of Entre. Swag licked the place where he bit Entre, pressing his lips over it. Another bite, another moan from Entre. Each bite got a reaction, Entre trembling and grasping Swag tightly. Soon, his neck was covered in hickeys and bruises, Swag proudly staring at it as he kept on nibbling on his neck.

Entre’s face was bright red, his whole body trembling from the sensations. Swag softly rubbed his face, tracing his fingers on the freckles under his eyes. He gazed at him suggestively, making his blush darken as if it was possible.

“What was all that for?” Entre asked nervously as Swag kept caressing his face.

“Go to sleep, it’s late.” Swag got off Entre’s lap as he laid on the cot, suggesting Entre to lay down next to him.

“You’re not answering my question…” Entre grunted as he laid next to Swag, as he did so the older pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him.

“I’m cold, I need to steal your body heat.” Swag grinned as he pressed his body against the younger, making his heart thump once again. Entre didn’t say a word, but instead he wrapped his arms around Swag, hugging him tightly.

“Goodnight.” Swag closed his eyes, leaving Entre’s mind confused.

“Goodnight…”

#swagtre #swagler #entre #truffula flu #the lorax #onceler #fanfic #i wrote this few months ago and posted on ao3 too #its bad but i wanted to post it

[ask-the-pale-elf]

“Have you…” they start, voice shaking, “Astarion, have you ever wondered… why? Why was it that I always chose to help whoever asked and even those who didn’t? Wondered why I was so willing, so eager, to put my neck on the line,” they briefly snort at the unintentional pun, “for others? Why I’m always volunteer for the first night watch shift or so quick to give potions? Have you ever wondered that?”

They stop for a moment to take a deep breath before they continue, voice more akin to a whisper, “Did you think it was because I’m gullible or weak or naive to how this world is? Because if so…” their voice hardens as their arms curl tighter around them and they look him in the face as if daring for him to disagree with what they say next, “I can assure you that I am not.”

“On the contrary, I know all too well of how wicked and vile the world we live in is,” their voice gets stronger and harsher the longer they speak, “I know that so many people die, and starve, and hurt, and cry, and suffer every single day. I li--“ they cut themself off abruptly before taking a deep breath to reigntheir emotions back in and loosen their hold around themself, “I get it.”

“The reason I do the things I do is because I actively choose to do them. I try to be the person I wished was there for me.” Their voice is gentle once more and their gaze softens, “I know it would be easier to be selfish. Hells, some days I’m really tempted to just… give in and be cruel because it would be so, so much easier than what I’m actually doing. But I don’t. You want know why?”

“Because I know I’ll regret it later. I know I’ll regret giving in and being cruel like those who were cruel to me. So instead, I stay kind. Give myself away, piece by piece. If my pain can lessen anyone else’s pain, I’m fine with that. What’s one more drop in the ocean?” They ask rhetorically and follow it with light laughter, “I would’ve been a good follower of Ilmater, huh?”

“Anyways,” they clear their throat before vaguely gesturing as if trying to brush everything off, “Sorry for that spiel. Didn’t mean to say all of that. What you do and how you do what you do is of no business to me. I don’t judge. I just wanted to asked if you could keep that in mind. Well,” they stretch out their arms and back before moving to start back to the campfire, “now that that’s been said, I should get started on food for the rest of the camp. You’re welcome to your own meal later if you want. See ya, Astarion.”

(Hi, sorry this was so long, if you don’t want to answer such a long ask, that’s fine! I have a rather… ‘descriptive’ writing style naturally, so I understand. I’d also probably like to shoot more asks like this if you were okay with longer asks… and angst cause I have a bunch of that. - Starlight (not necessarily cause of Astarion, but because I’m an astronomy nerd))

Astarion's eyes hardened, his fangs poking out of his lips threatening to pierce skin. A cruel laugh was forced out of his mouth, "Oh, how kind! How merciful of you, a great hero saving everyone from their troubles! How.... quaint."

His sneers highlighted how much he despised your kindness, it was pathetic. It was petty, he knew this but it didn't erase how much he wished you would just ignore everyone else and just focused on yourself. Then it would be far easier to understand you, he could relate to you and then try to persuade you to his side. No... not try, succeed, you wouldn't need that much convincing.

But oh you... you just had to be the good guy didn't you. You had to help people out of the "goodness of your heart." Astarion could gag himself with a spoon.

Astarion gritted his teeth together and glared straight into your soul, "If you're done trying to make me feel bad for not being a saint like yourself, I have something to say in return."

He placed his hand on his dead heart and gave the fakest smile you that you had ever seen, "You don't get to lecture me and walk away, you don't get to try to make me feel bad about myself and have the final say. Oh, no, no, no! You are staying right here, and you're going to listen."

"It is easier to be selfish, for gods' sake! It's necessary, do you really think that everyone gets a knight in shining armor to save them?! NO! They get pain, they get anguish, they get despair, and they get all their hopes ripped away from them even when they think they don't have any left. I know what you are, you just want to feel better than people like me... Who know how fucked up they are and know what they deserve."

By this point, Astarion's bared fangs were practically inches away from your face, "Because after 200 years of shit. PURE SHIT! I think I deserve something better. And I don't need some foolish hero like you to get in my way."

With his fuming face and his clawed hands balled up into fists, he gives you one last glare before walking away.

#my darling starlight #baldur's gate #baldurs gate #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate iii #bg3 rp #astarion rp #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #baulders gate 3 #astarion roleplay #bg3 roleplay #astarion x mc #ghost's posts #astarion x you #sorry for the lack of updates today shit hit the fan #and yeah astarion wouldn't take your whole thing well #he's just petty af #don't take it personally #he's deflecting as per usual

[steviesbicrisis]

Steddie - Percy Jackson AU

AKA the struggle of finding the perfect Valentines gift for a son of Aphrodite

Eddie keeps staring at the flowers on display, feeling more pathetic by the minute. He hears a voice inside his head telling him he should make the flowers himself, but he shakes that voice away fast, it sounded way too similar to his dad's. Pretty arrangements were never his forte anyways, and he needs the prettiest one.

What kind of flowers should he buy? is even flowers a good idea? should he go for chocolates? can he be more basic than this? probably not, but tomorrow will be valentine's day and he has no other ideas.

He snatches the bouquet with the most pink and yellow flowers, Steve always wears soft sweaters in either one of those colors so he thinks it should be fine.

💐🍫🎸💌

An hour later, Eddie stomps into another store, mumbling to himself. They aren't even dating yet, so why is this so complicated?

Why, of all the people at Half-Blood Camp, did he have to fall for a son of Aphrodite? how do you even attempt to romance someone who had the Goddess of Love as a mother?

He taps his fingers nervously on the glass counter, there are way too many options and he doesn't even know where to start.

He goes back to his cabin with a cheesy heart-shaped box filled with peanut butter chocolates - Steve would never admit it but he goes crazy for peanut butter - and places them next to the flowers.

🍫🎸💌 💐

Right before dinner and after hours of overthinking, the chocolate idea feels too lame in Eddie's eyes.

"So is this for Steve?" Robin asks. He's pretty sure she's smirking but they're talking just outside of her cabin, Apollo's, and the sunlight is just at the right place to make it shine too much for his poor eyes. He used to be jealous of Robin for having such a cool dad, but lately he feels much more content being stuck with Dionysus.

"It is not!" he replies, too quickly to be believable.

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me" she pushes him inside the cabin, then picks up a piece of paper and a binder.

"This is a list of Steve's favorite songs. I know you don't like any of these so" she gestures at the binder "I've got all of my music sheets in here. No need to thank me, Munson. But remember to give them back, I have a great aim and your cabin is a weapon range from here."

Eddie passes most of the night learning Against all Odds by Phill Collins while looking nervously at Robin's cabin through his window.

🎸💌 💐 🍫

It's Valentine's day, and Eddie is absolutely fucked. The flowers aren't pretty enough, the chocolate is lame, the song is overused and he's out of ideas.

He finds himself at Athena's cabin with only a few hours of sleep and right before breakfast.

He waits for Nancy to get out.

"This is about Steve" she states, not even questioning it, and Eddie doesn't have the energy to deny it.

"I'm running out of ideas Nancy! this was supposed to be a casual thing, no pressure! but then I mentioned it to him and he got so excited about receiving something from me and now there's no casualty anymore! There's anxiety, and he's surrounded by romance on a daily basis how am I supposed to compete with that?" Nancy listens to his rant quietly, not showing any particular reaction.

"So, how can I help?" it might seem like a cold response but that's exactly what Eddie needs.

He gets out an hour later, his stomach grumbling, his body pleading for a few hours of sleep, but with a poem about Steve's sun-kissed freckles and soft hair. Nancy wasn't much help with that, but she re-read it and made sure there weren't any mistakes and that his writing was clear enough.

"Eddie wait" Nancy calls for him as he's going through the door "you know how it is on valentine's day... Steve is one of the most admired kids in Aphrodite's cabin. So, whatever happens, don't let it get into your head okay? he likes you a lot."

💌💐🍫🎸

It gets into Eddie's head. Big time.

He was never confident about the gifts he prepared but he thought at least one of them would've been fine.

That is until the parade of Steve's presents begins.

After the tenth bouquet of flowers he receives, Eddie stops counting.

At breakfast and lunch, he has a pile of chocolates on his table and it stands up even amongst his brothers and sisters who had received chocolates as well, just not as many.

The gift Eddie is most confident about, the poem, has to be ruled out as well since with most of the bouquets and chocolates Steve has also received white envelopes with his name written on them, in much nicer handwriting than Eddie's.

The song, Eddie's weakest gift since it isn’t his cup of tea and he had to learn it overnight, is the only thing he has left.

Despite it all, he gets ready for it. He doesn’t like the song but he loves a big gesture, so he goes to his cabin in the afternoon to grab his guitar, determined to surprise Steve with a romantic serenade.

When he comes back, he notices a big fuss around the amphitheater. Curious, he gets close just in time to see one of Robin's brothers guiding Steve at the arena's center, a guitar in his left hand.

Eddie rushes away, he doesn’t need to see anything more.

🪨🪨🪨🪨

His gloomy state guides him to the lake's shore. It's cold but quiet, plus Eddie's favorite pastime consists in picking up rocks that catch his attention.

He throws a couple of them in the lake, kicks a few big ones, then sighs. A part of him hopes Steve is so busy with all his admirers that he forgets about him and his promise.

He crouches to have a better look at the smaller rocks at his feet. One catches his eye almost immediately: it's round, smooth, and mostly dark brown with gold cracks. Eddie cannot explain it, but it makes him think of Steve.

He's getting up with the small stone in his hand when he hears footsteps behind him.

"I knew I would find you here" Steve's smile makes Eddie's knees go weak, even at that distance.

He stops once he's standing next to him, both facing the lake.

"I guess you know me pretty well" Eddie points out, his eyes fixed on the water.

"Oh, I do" Steve smirks, confidence radiating from every fiber of his being. Eddie supposes that anyone would feel great about themselves after a day spent accepting any sort of gifts.

"So, I came to collect something" Steve breaks the silence, sounding less confident than before, more nervous if anything.

Eddie can't tell him about all the lame gifts he got for him, let alone go back to his cabin and grab one of them.

Before he can think too much about it, he takes one of Steve's hands and drops the rock on his palm "Here, happy valentine's day".

He realizes what he has done only after Steve's hand closes into a fist around the gift.

Eddie's eyes grow wide, his gaze flickers nervously between the hand that was holding the stone - the right one which he mentally renames as the traitor - and Steve's.

He tries to come up with excuses, but no sound comes out of his mouth.

Finally, as he's ready to jump in front of him and say something like "ahah this is a joke! I got you", Eddie looks at him.

Steve is radiant.

Eddie has rarely seen him smile like this, never at a stupid rock he had randomly collected. He is pretty sure this isn't the first rock he has ever given him, either. It's just a thing that Eddie does.

But Steve is beaming at the rock in his hand like Eddie has given him a piece of jewelry or a gemstone.

"Thank you Eddie, I love it" only then Eddie notices that he is also blushing.

"Are you sure? It's just a rock" he replies, nervously.

Steve raises an eyebrow at the question "yeah, but it's very pretty. And you love rocks."

"Oh," Eddie says, dumbly.

He finally understands why Steve was so excited by the idea of Eddie gifting him something for Valentine's day, why both Robin and Nancy told him he was stressing too much over something Steve would've liked anyways.

Steve would've loved anything as long as it came from Eddie.

"Now I feel bad," Steve speaks, oblivious to Eddie's internal epiphany "my gift is very lame compared to yours."

"You got me something, pretty boy?" he leans closer to him, into Steve's personal space. He smirks when he notices Steve's blush reaching his ears.

"Of course I did" he huffs "but you have to close your eyes if you want it" Steve looks away as he says it, clearly embarrassed.

He'd love to tease him about his red face but he decides to play nice and close his eyes.

He flinches when he feels Steve's lips on his. He slides his arms on his shoulders and around his neck, to make sure Steve doesn't misinterpret his surprised reaction. Steve puts his arms around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer.

Someone might say that gifting a kiss for Valentine's Day is very lame but Eddie realizes that, as long as it came from Steve, he would've loved it anyways.

I wasn’t planning to write anything but then I had some free time and I got inspired! Please forgive me if I wrote something unrealistic for the Percy Jackson world but I’ve read the books years ago, I don’t remember much!Happy Valentine’s Day to everyone but especially to my mutuals, I hope you have an amazing day 💘

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve and eddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #Steve son of Aphrodite #Eddie son of Dionysus #Robin daughter of Apollo #Nancy daughter of Athena #stranger things x Percy Jackson AU #happy Valentine’s Day #steddie’s Valentine

[hannahssimblr]

We set up camp in the lingering pink light in a clearing behind the hump of a sand dune that separates us from the stretch of beach. Up here the sand has mixed with the pine needles. The charred sticks from someone else’s bonfire lie in a pile of ash on the forest floor, and we set up our tents to face it, and Shane and I clear some pieces of rubbish from around it while Jen and Joe collect some firewood to make a new one. 

The waves are loud now, up this close, and I look forward to falling asleep to the sound later. It reminds me of those CDs that Jen had to listen to the last time she saw a therapist, something about visualising each breath moving through one’s body with the fluidity of the ocean waves. I felt like a Buddhist monk afterwards but we both pretended that it was a stupid exercise because it felt weird to admit to being moved by something like a meditation CD.

Clóda goes to the top of the dunes and gazes toward the horizon, but I only notice her because Shane does. Then he notices me noticing him and throws a bottle of Lucozade, deliberately missing the pile of rubbish we’ve made and hitting my shin. It’s heavy and full of something that, though amber in colour, is definitely not Lucozade. 

“Are we alright, man?” I say while he stares at his feet like there is something highly interesting about the plastic bits on the end of his shoelaces. “Yeah, obviously, why?”

“Because you seem pissed off at me.”

“Dunno why you think that.”

“Just a feeling,” I pause, “And I had a run in with your sister earlier on, she seems a bit annoyed at me too, so I was just wondering was something said at home, or…”

He scoffs, “Kelly’s some thick. Don’t mind her.”

“Right, and you and me, we’re-”

“We’re fine, man.” He tosses the last of the rubbish aside and starts going through his bag with his back to me. I’m not satisfied. 

“Shane,” I come closer, “You know that if there’s weird shit between us then I just want to air it out, I’m not that good at conflict or anything, but like I just have this feeling that you’re not actually okay with…” I lower my voice, “...with how things panned out with Clóda and all.”

His shoulders stiffen, “No, I couldn’t give a shite about that.”

“Right…” 

“Sure I’d be used to that by now, wouldn’t I?” he bites out, “You going off with all the girls. What’s it to me?”

“Just if you liked her, you know?”

“Well I didn’t.”

“You didn’t.”

“Nah. Not bothered.”

“Well, like, you seem bothered, so-”

“Jude?” Clóda calls, the setting sun is in her face, “Do you want to go for a swim before it gets too dark?”

I sigh and turn back to Shane, “I’m not done with this.”

“Well I am. Just go swimming.”

I hesitate, but go to her, running to that mound atop the dune and she greets me with arms thrown around my neck. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I kiss her quickly and draw away to pull my top over my head, then take my socks and my shoes off and dump them in the grass. She takes her clothes off, and she’s not self conscious of herself but I try not to look too much anyway in case she thinks I’m the kind of boy who would get overly excited about seeing her in a bikini.

“Will it be cold?” She shivers as the sea breeze nips our warm skin, and I tell her that it will, of course it will.

“God, I don’t know then.”

“Well you can’t back out now.”

“No?”

“No,” and I scoop her off the ground and throw her over my shoulder, and she shrieks in protest as I carry her down the side of the dunes, across the beach and right into the water with me. 

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#lucky boy #ignore Clóda's whole flap hanging out of her bikini bottoms #i have no control over things like that