#mis fics
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The Undead Diary of Luke Castellan
Fandom(s): Percy Jackson and the Olympians
Rating: T
Summary: It's not Luke's fault the Underworld is understaffed and some of its doors connecting with the living world are left unattended.
Words: 2929
AO3 link
I’d like to begin this story by saying this wasn’t my fault.
Not completely. Or well, not exactly.
The decision was mine, I guess. Except that it wasn’t a decision. More like an impulsive action that turned out to have big consequences.
But, in my defence —a line I’ve been using a lot these past few years, and, come to think of it, all of my life—, I was left unsupervised.
Let’s go back to the beginning.
I died.
Was it painful? Yes, very. Was it unfortunate? Many would disagree. Did I have it coming? I might have, yeah.
At any rate, my arrival in the Underworld had been most expected (by both the demigods alive and the ones whose deaths I’d had a hand in). All things considered, betrayal to the gods and my old camp-mates and whatnot, I hadn’t exactly hoped for a loving welcome committee.
If I’m honest, my judgement and the execution of my sentence were far less harsh than I probably deserved.
Hades himself was in charge of my fate, and to my utmost surprise, he vetoed the judges’ decision to let me burn in acid in the Fields of Punishment. Instead, he suggested I made myself useful, to account for all the destruction I’d brought.
“My domain has expanded exponentially in the past century,” Hades had said. “Daedalus has proved a worthy addition to my efforts to keep it organised efficiently, and you will follow his example if you’re smart.”
And for the past year I had done my job well enough to keep the Lord of the Dead content.
Daedalus was grateful for another pair of hands, so to speak, for I’m not entirely sure I really had hands, or if my spirit’s consciousness believed it hard enough to make it feel that way.
The old man was an incredible and astute engineer, but he had trouble controlling his workers. I, on the other hand, had no idea how to even build a bridge with legos, but I had lots of experience in the field of leading reluctant people, monsters, and even minor deities into battle, which meant organising souls into efficient work groups was a piece of cake. And so I did —carefully watched by one of Hades’ Furies, of course—.
At the beginning, I didn’t see any fellow demigods. Not any I knew, anyway. I was sure some of the souls working under me had been demigods in the past century.
It wasn’t that I didn’t have the time, Hades had given me Wednesdays off —I didn’t really know what day of the week it was, time is an elusive variant in the Underworld, but the Fury was kind enough to remind me—. I just didn’t have the courage to face my old acquaintances just yet.
I kept to the outskirts of Elysium. Souls don’t need to sleep, don't need to eat, don't need to do anything, truly. So I wandered around, looking remarkably like the souls who’d forgotten themselves after so many years.
One day, I was spotted by Lee Fletcher.
It felt like a dagger through my unbeating heart. Lee Fletcher had been my best friend and the second person I’d failed to convince to turn to Kronos’ side. I was glad Lee hadn’t joined in the end, but I’d been shattered when I learned of his demise in Zeus’ Fist at camp.
Lee didn’t look particularly surprised, though.
“I was hoping you’d show your face around eventually,” he’d said. “You deserve a punch in the face and a friend to listen to an explanation.”
I had then offered my old friend a crooked smile. “That’s why I didn’t come round.”
Lee walked with me for a while in silence. I didn’t feel like explaining, and I suppose Lee didn’t feel like forgiving just yet.
After a couple of weeks, it became our Wednesday routine. Lee dared to speak before I did. He told me of what he knew of our respective siblings, and what he knew of everybody else, really. Demigods died and brought news even after the Battle of Manhattan. Obviously, a lot less frequently, but demigod life wasn’t easy in peace times either.
At some point, Lee managed to convince me to meet Silena.
I assumed if anybody was also wary of our former friends it was her. She’d been a marvellous informant, but that had also made her an incredible traitor.
There was a fraction of a second of tense silence when we stood face to face. Then Silena bursted out into sobs and hugged me tight.
“We fucked up,” she cried. “We fucked up, we fucked up…”
I agreed, of course. Gods, we’d fucked up big time.
Slowly, Lee threw more people my way.
Traitors at first, all of them filled with guilt and remorse. I imagine if they weren’t, they would’ve been burning in the Fields of Punishment with the acid the judges had wanted for me.
Then, there’d been a couple of kids who’d never joined my side. They were reluctant, I knew, but they clearly respected Lee enough to go along with him.
Eventually, I got used to the nasty glares, but, more surprisingly, I started getting comments around the lines of, ‘Something had to be done, though’, ‘They really don’t care much about us, do they?’.
Through Lee’s diplomacy and my visible humility and apologetic behaviour —which wasn’t natural to me, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to start defending myself—, my old friends appeared on my Wednesday walks without being coerced. And I even stopped dreading those meetings so much.
That was until spirits started disappearing.
It was rather chaotic at first. There was fear around, which wasn’t common in Elysium.
But then the fear turned into hope. They didn’t disappear. Rumours said they were going back to life.
My inner curiosity got the best of me, as it always did.
One Wednesday, I led Lee and Silena to Melinoe’s cave. She wasn’t home, which made me wonder whether she was in her father’s castle or just roaming around, scaring the shit out of innocent mortals.
When Melinoe wasn’t in her cave, there was always Thanatos, I knew, making sure nobody snooped around like we were doing. Thanatos was a rather strict fellow, and a very good ally to Hades.
In retrospect, it was easy to see he hadn’t been seen around in a long while. But then again, it’s easier to notice those things in hindsight. Time, as I said before, is hard to keep pace of in the Underworld.
“I don’t like this,” Lee said. “I don’t think we should be here.”
“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “Worst case scenario, they’ll blame me.”
Lee smiled. That had been a thing even before I left camp. Whenever something fishy happened, Chiron was always quick to point at me rather than Apollo’s golden son.
“I’d rather they blamed nobody,” Silena said. “This place feels terrible, let’s go back.”
I stared at my friends. Didn’t they realise? Thanatos wasn’t here, neither was Melinoe, the Furies would need some time to catch us.
“It’s a way out, guys!”
“Out?” Lee’s expression turned uneasy. “Listen, Luke, we shouldn’t mess around with that idea.”
“It’s been done before,” I insisted. “Or almost.”
“I’m with Lee,” Silena said. “What’s happened, happened. We can’t leave. We can’t go back.”
“There’s nobody here!” I took another tentative step into the cave. I felt a pull, pushing me out into the open, but I went further in. “It feels… strange.”
I felt warm and cold at the same time. I hadn’t felt much since I’d died. My spirit had felt a trace of sensation, but it was muted. As if it was a memory rather than the real thing.
Could I possibly go out? Into the living world?
Over the past year I’d pushed down those feelings of incompleteness. There were still so many things I wanted to do. So many apologies. But two in particular. There were two people I’d have given anything to see.
And perhaps, if there was nobody to stop us, we might be able to leave!
“Luke, stop it!”
But Lee’s voice grew dimmer in my ears.
I could meet them again, my two girls. Explain, tell them how sorry I was.
The force pushing me back grew stronger with every step, but it was no match for my determination.
Step after step, the sensations enhanced in my chest. Cold and warmth, and even a hint of nausea. The ground sloped down, slowly at first, then steeper as I kept going.
Then I realised I could smell. It didn’t smell like a musty old cave, it was the smell of summer. Of hot wind and freshly cut grass.
It only made my resolve stronger.
It was pitch dark. The light from the entrance of the cave had been lost completely.
I went another step further. Then another step. And another step.
I took a deep breath. I could breathe. I was breathing!
Another step. Another step. Another step.
The sound of my heartbeat filled my ears. Loud, strong, quick. Deafening.
Another step. Another step. Another step.
The force pushing me back was so strong now, that I almost tripped. But I regained balance and managed to keep going.
Another step… Another step… Another step…
Then the ground disappeared.
And I fell.
-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z
My first sensation when I woke up was warmth in my face.
A memory stirred in my mind. The smell of ripe strawberries, the laughter of children free for the summer holidays, the rhythmic sound of waves, a towel under my body, and the warmth of the sun hitting my exposed skin.
It was the sun. The sun! I was feeling the sun on my skin!
Then the feeling disappeared, and the brightness I could see through my closed eyelids banished.
A soft hand patted my cheek carefully.
“Hello?” Said a woman’s voice. “Young man?”
I opened my eyes slowly. Outlined by a halo of sunlight the face of a pretty woman of about thirty hovered around a metre away from me.
I tried to speak but my throat felt like sandpaper.
“It’s okay,” she said. Her voice held a trace of an accent. “It takes a while to get used to being back.”
Back.
In spite of the burning feeling in my throat, my face split into a grin.
“Back,” I rasped. “I’m back.”
The woman helped me sit up.
I studied her properly now. Her skirt, blouse, and sweater looked old-fashioned. Her hair was loose, but it curled in that style I’d seen in a thousand WWII movies. She had a warm smile and a clever look.
“I’m Luke,” I said, offering her a hand. “My name’s Luke Castellan.”
“Maria,” she replied.
She looked at my hand and shook it after a second of hesitation.
“I keep forgetting Americans shake hands. So impersonal,” she stated with a raised eyebrow. Her tone was teasing though.
“Are you—” I caught myself. “Were you dead too?”
“Right to the point, yes?” She smiled. “Yes, I was dead. I have been for a while. But now I’m here, and I need to find my son.”
“Your son?” I was surprised.
My perception of ‘mother’ isn’t the best, but this woman didn’t look like a mom to me. She looked like an old time movie star, those that always had perfect make-up, in the black-and-white photos I’d seen in the cinema close to my place in Connecticut.
“Yes,” she said. “My little boy. He should be an old man by now, I would have expected.”
“But he isn’t?” I wondered.
She shook her head, anger and sorrow transformed her expression.
“My daughter passed away,” she told me. “Not too long ago. She should have been old, but she was still a girl.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. I looked down, and when I spoke it was full of bitterness. “Children’s lives should never be at risk.”
And despite what many may think, I do believe that kids shouldn’t be put in the line of fire.
Maria nodded, swallowed, and composed herself so fast I felt a little thread of envy. If only I could’ve put up a cheerful façade that quickly…
“You don’t look old enough to die either,” she decided, giving me a once over.
“I think I deserved it,” I admitted. ‘It was my choice’ sounded a bit too harsh. “Besides, I’m 23, that’s better than dying as a child.”
Maria huffed. “23 is still so young.”
“As opposed to…?” I asked.
She seemed horrified by my audacity.
“A lady doesn’t ask nor answer that question,” she said firmly. “And neither should a gentleman.”
I shrugged. She sounded fancy. I guessed in whichever time she came from, old-money people stuck to those ridiculous social rules.
“What do you know of your son?” I wondered. “Do you know where we can find him? Hell, do you know where we are?”
I scanned my surroundings. My eyes were unused to the sun, which made me squint a bit.
It looked like a meadow. The land was flat, not a hill on sight. The grass was green and soft under me, and far to my right, there was a big house.
“Italy,” she said. “Veneto.”
Holy shit.
“A bit far from where I expected to be,” I said.
“The Underworld has many exits,” Maria told me.
My muscles tensed. I had assumed she was a lost mortal, who had followed the path out of the afterlife by accident, but mortals in Italy wouldn’t be likely to call the Underworld by that name. Nor, I guess, would they be likely to have children who were supposed to be old but looked young.
“Oh, I know about all of this,” she smiled. “My children are— were, like you. Demigods. I’m… what’s that term he used? Clear sighted?”
I nodded.
Italian demigods. Did I know Italian demigods? Probably a fair few, but I wasn’t sure if any of the ones I’d met were from Veneto.
And she said she had died ages ago. Whoever her children were they would have been taken out of time.
It rang a bell in my memory, but my mind wasn’t clear enough yet for me to recall properly. Not to mention I’d known dozens of demigods who had bizarre stories.
Thalia was a tree for a while, she’d looked younger than she should have been that time she pushed me off that cliff.
Annabeth and her little gang had been in that Casino thing in Vegas, that had messed up time for them, too.
And the Sea of Monsters, there were a lot of islands there where children could have been stuck in time for decades.
“Are your—,” I hesitated. “Did your children ever get to camp? Camp Half-Blood, in New York?”
Maria’s expression turned dubious. “I think so. Bianca didn’t explain much, she didn’t stay long. But I reckon wherever my boy is, it’s in America. That’s the last place I saw them.”
That’s where she had died then.
“Then camp’s our best bet,” I said. “He’s alive, he’s likely to have at least crossed paths with somebody from there.”
She nodded.
She turned and pointed at the house in the distance. “That’s my family’s home. You can stay there for a bit. To rest.”
She stood and offered a hand for me to get up too.
“I— Yeah, thanks,” I said. I felt weak. I’d just come back to life. She was right to say it took some adjustment. I wondered how long she’d been back. “I could use a place to sit for a bit.”
In exchange, I could help her find camp and her son. Assuming the kid was still alive, that was. I wouldn’t go to camp myself. I’d be stoned the moment I set a foot in there. But leading Maria there was the least I could do after she’d been so kind to me.
I just hoped her son wasn’t somebody I knew. That could make things awkward.
We walked for a bit in silence. As we got closer, the house grew bigger and bigger. ‘House’ was an understatement, I thought. The place was huge.
Balconies, huge floor to ceiling windows, at least four storeys tall. It had a path that led to the main entrance lined with orchard trees, and off to the side there was a less pretentious dirt path that I assumed went to the servant’s entrance.
“I’m sorry,” I said, before I could stop myself, pointing at the immense building in front of us. “But did your family own Italy?”
Maria gave me a funny look. “It’s not such an ostentatious place.”
Perhaps if you are related to the Windsor family, then Maria’s family’s house isn’t ostentatious. If, like me, you come from the US suburbs, then it’s something taken right out of Downton fucking Abbey.
“My father was a marquess,” she explained, when she caught my cynical expression. “Sua grazia, il Signor di Angelo, and all the paraphernalia it came with. The house is all right, but we weren’t…”
But I had stopped listening.
Di Angelo. I did remember that name. Di Angelo was that little kid who’d popped out of nowhere with an army of undead soldiers and his godly father on toe.
But not even I couldn’t be that unlucky.
“What’s your son’s name?” I asked, as casually as I could.
“Niccolò,” she said with a proud smile. “But everybody always called him Nico.”
Nico. Nico di Angelo.
Well, fuck. To nobody’s surprise, I could be that unlucky.
#luke castellan#maria di angelo#lee fletcher#silena beauregard#hades pjo#nico di angelo#pjo#riordanverse#hoo#mis fics#tagthescullion#undead diary
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Corazón de piedra - Capítulo 1: 北方琳 [Lin Beifong]
Dejad que le quite el polvo al dibujín, porque lo empecé hace un año y ahora he tenido la decencia de terminarlo. En su momento necesitaba ponerle cara a este muchacho y he intentado plasmar en su expresión esa actitud de mier** que tiene al principio del fic jajaj
Con todos ustedes: Kanto, ese hombre del que no sabemos nada! :D
PD: mi Kanto es un sinvergüenza, lo digo para que estéis prevenidos por si vais a leer el fic
PD2: el objetivo de esta publicación es ese, que le deis al enlace de arriba, para qué sino el spam jajaj
PD3: sorry, not sorry
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Fic writer (of doom) interview :))
thank you @starsmadeinheaven for tagging me!!
How many works do you have on AO3?
Only 9.
What’s your total AO3 word count?
358,097. And some stories are not finished.
What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Madhouse, Una casa de locos, Spamano One-shots, Vacaciones en Roma, Todo un hombre
Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Yes, I always answer the comments. If someone who reads my stories takes time to write me anything, I have to reply to thank them.
What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?
Querida Hungría (Oh no, spoiler alert!!!) Although it's not finished.
What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?
"Una casa de locos" or "Madhouse", that is its English version.
Do you write crossovers?
No.
Have you ever received hate on a fic?
Not fortunately.
Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
I do, and it's the hardest thing for me to wtite, I always think "I'm repeating a lot this or that"... well, the action itself is kind of repetitive XDD
Have you ever had a fic stolen?
I don't think so... Or at least I'm not aware of it.
Have you ever had a fic translated?
Yes, by myself: "una casa de locos" = "madhouse".
I used to translate fics into Spanish of other autors , like @starsmadeinheaven ones.
Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Nop.
What’s your all-time favorite ship?
Spamano, it was love at first sight. I can't stop writing about those two.
What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?
I don't like to leave my WIPs without an end, they come to me from time to time so I could finish them.
What are your writing strengths?
Hum... I think descriptions and humorous scenes, I never thought so many people would tell me that they burst out laughing with my writings.
What are your writing weaknesses?
As I said before, writing smut is so hard for me... but writing sad scenes is a challenge for me too, because I feel like I have to say so many things about the atmosphere of the scene and the feelings of the characters that is so much for me.
What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?
I just write it in another language if it's necessary for the story, if not I just write that it is said in another language or put the letters into italics.
What was the first fandom you wrote for?
Hetalia, the one and only.
What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?
I'm obsessed with Spamano, but when I think about other ships I would like to write about... maybe Spain-Greece, Germany-Belgium, Romano-Liechtenstein, Veneziano-Liechtenstein
What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?
The first one I ever wrote: Una casa de locos. It's my baby and I reread it from time to time.
I prefer not to tag anyone. If you feel like it, feel free to do it!
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Su elección de palabras hizo que Diego pensara en tres cosas, primero: molestar, Mensostóteles no tenía ni idea de lo que se le vendría encima, –ugh, no– de lo que se le avecinaba, Diego iba a molestarlo a diestra y siniestra por convertirlo en un voyeur en contra de su voluntad. Segundo: en ningún momento dijo –ni Temo– que ya no lo volverían hacer, Ari solo dijo que serían cuidadosos. Tercero; le recordó de golpe que los encontró en la sala, sala que compartían con Diego y que hasta él había tenido la decencia de no profanar, los encuentros sexuales que había tenido en el depa se habían quedado entre las cuatro paredes de su habitación, como tenía que ser si tenías roomies.
(Cuatro veces que los cacharon con las manos en la masa y una vez que no.)
#aristemo#volví de la muerte lol#denle una oportunidad aunque la descripción está meh esto es una obra de arte jajaja#mi marido tiene más familia#aristóteles córcega#temo lópez#juntos el corazón nunca se equivoca#el corazón nunca se equivoca#emilio osorio#joaquin bondoni#mis fics#jenni hace una publicación
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)
Additional Tags: Pre-Scene: Globe Theatre 1601 (Good Omens), Secret Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleeping Together, Kissing, Fluff, Light Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sharing Clothes
Summary:
Londres, 1601. Después de una noche de amor en la intimidad de una posada, un ángel y un demonio deben separarse para cumplir con su deber. A ninguno de los dos le apetece, pero hay que mantener las apariencias para que la central no sospeche...
#Good Omens#Buenos presagios#Good Omens fanfics#fanfic#Crowley#Aziraphale#Azirafel#ineffable husbands#español#mis fics
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babys first bettymina fic
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— mis fics
» links: ao3 | wattpad | twitter | cafecito | tellonym | curiouscat
bienvenidos al pibarverso del delirio ✨ espero que lo disfruten y dejen comentarios y opiniones para hacerme feliz!
• diez cosas que odia de él
julienzo | 10 capítulos | AU | 25k
Julián se levanta con el pie izquierdo y conoce a su nuevo vecino.
parte 1 de serie: qué rabia me da el amor (voy a quedármelo)
ao3
• mañanas
cutilicha | one shot | 2k
Una mañana como cualquier otra en la vida de Cristian y Lisandro.
ao3
• pero esta noche es en mi cama
julienzo | one ahot | AU | 11k
Enzo tiene un día de mierda. Pero cruzarse con un desconocido en un colectivo le cambia la vida por completo.
parte 1 de serie: té para tres
ao3
• ¿esa noche quién la borra?
leanenzo | two shot | AU | 15k
Enzo se interesa por un barman un poco presumido y se lleva un par de sorpresas.
ao3
• tu cuerpo contra el mío (siento tus latidos)
julienzo + cutilicha | one shot | AU | 11k
Enzo tiene una sorpresa para Julián. Lo que no se imaginó fue terminar sorprendiéndose él también.
parte 2 de serie: qué rabia me da el amor (voy a quedármelo)
ao3
• y cuando me tocas (amándonos)
julienzo | one shot | 5k
Junio 2023, gira en Asia. Julián estaba seguro de que cada vez que se reencontraban, se enamoraba un poquito más de Enzo.
parte 1 de serie: celeste, blanco y dorado campeón
ao3
• quise morir de amor pero no me salió
kaienzo + julienzo | 10 capítulos | AU | 22k
Enzo quería sentirse libre de una buena vez, y volviendo a casa parecía ser el primer paso para conseguirlo.
parte 3 de serie: qué rabia me da el amor (voy a quedármelo)
ao3
• mi nombre es jeremías
enzo² + enzo/varios | 9 capítulos | AU | 80k
Enzo prueba suerte en el trabajo sexual VIP. Le va mejor de lo que se podía esperar.
ao3 | arte (hecho por: @brig4y; contraseña: jeremias)
• ¿a quién le dijiste molesto?
julienzo | one shot | 3k
Septiembre 2023, Eliminatorias sudamericanas. Enzo nunca se iba a cansar de volver a casa junto al amor de su vida.
parte 2 de serie: celeste, blanco y dorado campeón
ao3
• jugá el partido
marenzo | one shot | 3k
Marcos y Enzo se encuentran después del Superclásico.
parte 1 de serie: y cada vez que pienso en vos (quiero volver)
ao3
• ay che bostero
leanenzo | one shot | AU | 2k | para @brig4y 🩷
Leandro y Enzo hacen una apuesta por el Superclásico. Leandro es el que sale perdiendo.
ao3
Marcos de rodillas siempre había sido una debilidad para Enzo.
• fue irresponsable
marenzo | one shot | 4k
parte 2 de serie: y cada vez que pienso en vos (quiero volver)
ao3
• barbita
julienzo | one shot | 5k
Octubre 2023, Eliminatorias sudamericanas. Julián tiene un par de cosas para decir de la barbita de Enzo.
parte 3 de serie: celeste, blanco y dorado campeón
ao3
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Turn of Fate
Fandom(s): Winter of the World, The Century Trilogy (Ken Follett)
Summary: '[Fitz] went to the door. "And it would not please me int he least if that great office of state were to be held by my Bolshevik!" With that he walked out.' Or: Fitz' impulsivity leads to even more regret.
Rating: General Audiences
Words: 533
AO3 link
No sooner had Fitz slammed the door behind him, the immensity of his mistake set on his mind like a weight.
He’d always been unable to control that emotional impulsivity he’d so often criticised in others. After half a lifetime of blotching relationships on that account, he should have been able to at least repress the sudden urge to hurt those who cornered him into such situations.
His first instinct had been to blame Ethel for shocking him in such a way, but the voice of his subconscious spoke over it: the truth was that the blame had always been on him.
It was him who had cornered her into shoving their child –no longer a boy– in front of him at whatever opportunity she could find.
The boy had been the centre of his emotional unrest, if he was honest. Seeing a face so alike his own in appearance yet so foreign had all but transported him to that afternoon in Ty Wyn thirty-something years ago when he had selfishly –for there was no other way to think of it– thrown a pregnant and heartbroken Ethel out of his life. A choice he’d regretted on more than one occasion since.
He’d caught glimpses of the boy as he grew, with his mother working in the same set of buildings as he did, but he hadn’t been face-to-face with him since that fateful time he’d run into Ethel going down a staircase over two decades ago.
Boy had been with him that time, he recalled. The memory of his dead son did nothing to alleviate his inner turmoil.
What a tortuous turn of fate that the son he’d priorised had perished while the bastard he’d neglected had returned home a commemorated hero.
In spite of all reason, the idea that Lloyd Williams was alive and well filled him with joy. It was a shame that the boy would dedicate his life from now on to destroying Great Britain’s traditional values. Still, Fitz couldn’t find it in his heart to wish the boy ill.
An intrusive thought of turning back and apologising crossed his mind but Fitz vanished it immediately. Not wishing the boy dead was far from acknowledging any relation between them or even building a bridge of communication to the possibility of getting close to him, or Ethel for that matter. He was growing soft in his old age.
He felt let down with himself after the whole ordeal. He shouldn’t have been so harsh. If only Ethel hadn’t brought Boy up, or if she hadn’t alluded to the affection for her that he’d tried in vain to bury over the past thirty years, then perhaps Fitz would have reacted in a much more measured manner.
He shook his head, probably looking like a madman to anybody around him.
He was done blaming others, he told himself. Yet his pride wouldn’t let him turn back.
He hoped, he really did, that someday perhaps, he’d be able to meet the boy –the man now– under better circumstances. But not yet. Not while he was mourning his firstborn. Not when so much as speaking to Lloyd felt like he was trying to replace Boy.
#the century trilogy#winter of the world#fall of giants#ken follett#earl fitzherbert#ethel williams#lloyd williams#historical fiction#wwii#viscountessaberowen#mis fics
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Hay Amor (En Tu Cuerpo) - Roquill Fic (Español) - Ch 5 - NEW!
Fandoms: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 1, 2, 3.
Pareja principal: Rocket Raccoon/Peter Quill (Star-Lord).
Rating: Adulto, por violencia y sexo explícito.
Categorías: Realidad Alterna de Vol. 3, Acción/Aventura, Primera Vez, Problemas de Comunicación porque Peter y Rocket son Idiotas, Readaptación del Canon/Canon Rewrite, Escenas Perdidas/Missing Scenes, Romance, Humor, Drama, Relación Establecida, SMUT/Contenido Sexual Explícito, Mpreg, Saltos en el Tiempo, Rocket POV, Peter Quill/Star-Lord POV, Exploración de Fisiología Alienígena, Uso de OC's, Exploración psicológica de personajes.
Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5
Notas Extras:
(a) Uso de la simbología de los sueños según el psicoanálisis (Carl Jung, en especial) y uso de la mitología Maya. :)
(b) Si necesitan material visual, el Almirante Berenjena (ejem, Almirante Lessath de los R'Kuk) es traído a ustedes por Daemon Targaryen/Matt Smith, porque solo pude imaginármelo a él este rol. Imagínenlo con la piel morada y voilá.
(i) Advertencias (!):
(a) Este capítulo presenta contenido explícito de castigo corporal como forma de tortura. Para más detalles de esta advertencia, lean el final de este capítulo, ya que contiene fuertes spoilers.
(b) PSTD, ataques de pánico, violencia física, muy ligera dosis de gore.
#roquill#peter quill#rocket raccoon#guardians of the galaxy#fanfiction en español#star lord#mpregnancy#vol. 3 rewrite#mission gone wrong#mis fics#roquill fic
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Yo lo seguí, el necesitaba ayuda, el me lo pidió y yo acepte.
El la mira a ella como yo lo miro a el.
Y ahora estamos acá atrapados.
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Last Line WIP Game
I was tagged by: @morning-softness
Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words in the line.
I haven't written anything in a while, but still i looked in all my folders that didn't gotten deleted with the laptop i used to borrow and i found a second chapter from my haunted house AU that i never uploaded in the jongerry week.
“Estoy harta, iré a hablar con él, no me importa si me vuelve a tirar a un laberinto hecho de niebla y traumas, si nadie me va a contar la historia voy a hacer el trabajo por el que me pagan”
I tag to... Whoever see this!
#lmao helen was so pissed because jon and martin make his job so hard STUPID GHOSTS THAT DON'T LET HER COMMITT TAX FRAUD IN PEACE#ask#wip game#mis fics
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Diplomacy: a Net of Embellished Lies
Fandom(s): Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Heroes of Olympus
Rating: G
Summary: Five times Nico lied to the people around him, and one time he told the truth.
AO3 link
Chapter 1: Son of Pluto
“You’re different,” Hazel heard a voice say. “A child of the Underworld, you remember your past.”
She looked up to see a boy of around 12. His pale skin glowed with a strange shine, as if being in the Underworld made this young boy stronger rather weaker.
“Yes,” she replied. “And you’re alive.”
The boy studied her for a good while. He introduced himself as Nico di Angelo. He told her of his late sister who he’d intended to take back home into the living world.
Not me, Hazel thought. I’m just an odd spirit he came across on his search.
But did it really matter? Did anything matter anymore?
Sometimes she envied all those spirits around her who had forgotten who they were and what they’d done. Surely all this infinite boredom was much more bearable not remembering one’s past.
Nico held out a hand for her.
“You’re my sister too,” he said with determination. “You deserve a second chance. Come with me.”
Hazel hesitated only a fraction of a second before taking his hand.
She hadn’t known it was possible to hold anything, specially not a human hand, and yet Nico’s grasp was strong and warm.
He led her off to the edge of the Asphodel Fields, towards the River Styx. He didn’t try to cross it, however. He simply walked with her on toe for a while, until they stood facing the longest set of stairs Hazel had ever seen.
“Where are we going?” She asked.
“We’ll come out of this place in Central Park,” he replied from a few steps ahead. “We can’t stay there, though, father has other plans for me. Or well, for us now, I suppose.”
“You’re a child of Pluto too, then?”
Hazel knew this already, he’d called her his sister, but this stranger who was getting her out of the Underworld interested her.
The boy looked back at her with his pale face and his intense brown eyes. He seemed to be debating something to himself.
“Yes,” he said, after a pause. “I’m the son of Pluto.”
#nico di angelo#hazel levesque#big three kids#pjo#hoo#pjo hoo toa#riordanverse#pjo fic#mis fics#tagthescullion#putting a tag on this bc otherwise i can't find them on my blog#embellished lies
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Este es el motivo por el que llevo tanto tiempo sin publicar nada. Pensaba escribir un fic sencillo y el "fic sencillo" va ahora mismo por las 38k palabras. Muy en mi línea, como siempre.
Como voy a tardar la vida en acabarlo y publicarlo, os dejo aquí debajo un fragmento de la historia:
Dos fuertes brazos envolvieron repentinamente su cintura y la abrazaron por la espalda. Kanto la pegó a sí con un vigor inusual, de forma impulsiva y posesiva. Ella permaneció inmóvil sin poder reaccionar, temblando por los besos que recorrieron su cuello hasta la mejilla y por el ángulo imposible en el que los ojos de Kanto se forzaban en clavar la mirada en Sokka, quien contenía el aliento frente a ellos. Literalmente no respiraba, tan bloqueado como ella.
Había algo entre sus cuerpos que los ataba en silencio, como un hilo invisible. Algo que dolía y parecía resquebrajarse frente al contacto de aquellos labios contra su piel. “¿Qué está pasando?” Las palabras atravesaron su mente de tal forma que no pudo evitar estremecerse. Frente a tal impresión, reaccionó por fin y rió con nerviosismo para complacer a Kanto, quien sonrió también duramente contra su mejilla.
Sokka, que había recuperado el habla y disimulaba entonces una respiración agitada, la excusó diciendo:
—Culpa mía, la he entretenido.
—Estaba “entreteniéndome” sola antes de que llegaras, gracias —se defendió ella con sorna, queriendo recuperar el tono casual que compartían instantes atrás.
No podía. No había nada casual allí. No había nada casual en aquellas manos que se aferraban con fuerza a su cintura. No había nada casual en el corazón desacompasado de Sokka, en el doloroso bombeo que recorría sus venas y en sus manos apretadas en dos puños que escondía entonces en los bolsillos de su abrigo. “¿Qué está pasando?” Kanto no apartaba sus ojos de él. La abrazaba de tal forma que parecía marcarla frente a Sokka.
#quien reconozca la referencia se lleva un 10 :D#no podía no dibujarlo con el tremendo culebrón aka triángulo amoroso aka telenovela aka DRAMÓN que me traigo entre manos#atla#tlok#tokka#kantoph#toph#toph beifong#sokka#kanto#my art#mis fics
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¡Capítulo 11!
Esta vez conseguí tenerlo en menos tiempo :D (mucho, igualmente).
También en Ao3
#aph romano#hetalia#spamano#hetalia fanfiction#aph south italy#hws romano#hws spain#aph spain#mis fics#hetalia fics
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)
Additional Tags: Post-Scene: Paris 1793 (Good Omens), Love Confessions, First Kiss, Kissing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Nervous Aziraphale (Good Omens), Nervous Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Light Angst
Summary:
Azirafel no ha ido a París solo por la comida: sabía que encontraría a cierto demonio cuyas ausencias cada vez le cuesta más soportar. Lo que no sabía era que reuniría suficiente valor para confesarle sus sentimientos... ni que Crowley le confirmaría abiertamente que él siente lo mismo. ¿Qué ocurrirá ahora que puede dar rienda suelta a su amor cuando se encuentren lejos de miradas indiscretas?
#Good Omens#Buenos presagios#Good Omens fanfics#Aziraphale#Crowley#ineffable husbands#Paris#confessions#mis fics#español
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Esto es muy Glitter freezer core 💗
Reconocimiento 🥲 aiuda 🥲
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