#(obviously there are little things that could be fixed. the borders are a little too thin)

[jinruihokankeikaku]

Made a quick mockup in LibreImpress of a potential layout for my transcription that preserves the original format as much as possible. (Original at the top; 'facsimile' below.)

Obviously I can't match the typeface exactly, and I'm working on a 16:9 monitor rather than a 4:3 one (as the original images were designed for), so I went with a fairly legible demibold Mincho font and tried to approximate the proportions of the table as best I could given the difference in aspect ratio.

However, I was able to match the line breaks, alignment, character width, and 3-column layout from the original, none of which are preserved in my in-line translation version, so...it's something I might continue working on further down the line, so as to create as much of a high-quality 'facsimile' of the image as I can.

Making more of these isn't going to be a top priority for now - I want to focus on translation and transcription at the moment, and each page has to be replicated more or less by hand, so it's a bit of a process. But I just wanted to demonstrate that this is possible and an element of the Project that could be developed further going forward.

#the evangelion annotation project #(obviously there are little things that could be fixed. the borders are a little too thin) #(and i know using a gothic/sans-serif fontset would technically be a better match. but for now i prefer this one.) #anyways! if anyone has any comments/critiques/advice i'd be happy to hear it. just wanted to post this as a proof-of-concept.

[atlabeth]

(they all say that) it gets better | luke castellan

bleedin' me dry for context (this is that reader's origin story!!)

summary: a look into your unclaimed year.

a/n: does it still count as fluff if you already know it doesn’t end well? idk but i’m having fun writing for this pair so it’s okay. i hope you guys are enjoying reading them!! this ended up becoming a hell of a lot longer than i thought it would be but these kind of one shots are my faves to write lol

title from teenage dream by olivia rodrigo bc apparently guts teenage angst works very well for a demigod who feels like they're worthless and unwanted for a good period of time!! shoutout to the gods

wc: 11.4k JESUS

warning(s): fem!child of demeter reader. typical anger at the gods, but luke is actually pretty sweet! crazy. mostly hurt/comfort, reader is going through it at the beginning (mentions of injuries and almost dying), honestly she's going through it the whole time but luke is very nice to her lol. barely proofread bc proofing 34 pages is a nightmare !!

It was your first day as a demigod and you were already off to a bad start. 

You didn’t remember much, obviously. There was a lot of stumbling, barely held up by your satyr as you crossed the border, and then full on collapsing. Somehow you managed to stay conscious all the way to the infirmary, enough to hear shocked murmurs from the people-like blobs around you and terrified, whispered affirmations from your satyr as he ran along with whoever was carrying you. 

You didn’t remember much. But you do remember thinking what a shameful existence it would be to die at fourteen. 

And now you were sitting in an uncomfortable cot, staring at the wall and counting divots. The first half of your visit was only there in flashes as you drifted in and out of consciousness, but now, unfortunately, you were fully awake. You belatedly wondered how many other kids began their camp life with a stay at the infirmary. 

The thought was dashed from your head as you jolted and cried out in sudden pain, and you shot daggers with your glare at the boy next to you.  

“Sorry.” The boy fixing you up was about your age, and he almost seemed to glow from within. “You dislocated your shoulder—I was popping it back into place.”

“You could have warned me,” you seethed.

“I did,” he said, and when he placed his hands on your shoulder they actually did glow. “You just weren’t listening.”

“...Sorry,” you said after a moment. “I’m having a rough day.” 

He shook his head with a slight smile. “It’s expected.” 

“It’ll be okay,” your satyr said, and some of the tension left your shoulders as you looked over at Tate. He’d been by your side for the past two weeks of disasters, and you’d saved each other’s lives more times than you could count. You were just thankful he didn’t have to watch you die. “Jace is one of camp’s best healers. You’re in good hands.” 

You nodded, not wanting to cause any more problems, so you bit your lip and bit your tongue and let him heal the rest of your injuries in silence. He was done soon enough, and you could feel both their eyes on you as you rifled through your backpack. Thankfully, Tate brought it in as you were dying. Your own blood stained the nylon. 

“How do you feel?” Tate asked anxiously. 

“Better,” you said, tearing your eyes away from it as you continued making sure all your belongings were still there. “A lot better. Not like there’s much competition.”

Tate chuckled, and Jace picked up a small bag from the bedside table and handed it to you—it looked like there were little pieces of fudge inside. “Here.” 

“What’s this?” you asked as you took it. 

“Ambrosia,” he said. “Wait a few hours before you have a piece, and only have a little if you feel a lot of pain. I already gave you nectar while you were out, and the last thing we need is you burning up.” 

You looked at Tate with raised eyebrows and he smiled a bit. “Ambrosia and nectar are the food of the gods. It heals demigods in small portions, but take too much and you’ll get a fever. Worst case scenario, you’ll literally burn up from the inside.” 

“Oh,” you said, and you stuffed the bag into your pack before zipping it up. “I’ll… I’ll wait.” 

“Probably a good idea,” Jace said, and he looked over at your satyr as he stood up. “I’ve gotta get back to my sword-fighting lessons. Can you give her a tour?” 

He shook his head. “I have to debrief with Chiron and Mr. D. There were some… rough things on the road.” Tate looked at you. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes— are you sure you’ll be okay?” 

“It’s fine,” you said with a smile. “Do your thing. I’ll look around some, then we’ll find each other later.” 

Tate nodded thankfully and went through an open door opposite your bed, and Jace gave you a tight smile as he started to put away all the medical supplies he used on you. You sighed, slung your bag over your shoulder, and walked out. 

You shut the door behind you and blinked rapidly as you tried to adjust to the sunlight. Then, you heard someone sigh. 

“Thank the gods you’re okay.” 

You turned to see a boy standing up from the wall. Dark curls hung just above his eyes, a contrast to his tanned skin, slightly red from exertion. He was wearing the same bright orange shirt that your healer was—Camp Halfblood, it said in curved text. He was far too pretty for his own good. 

“I’m the one who carried you in,” he said, and you realized you were frowning. “Wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

“Oh,” you said. “That’s… that’s nice of you.” 

“It’s been a while since we’ve gotten someone new,” he said. “Even longer since they’ve had such a dramatic entrance.” 

You shrugged. You didn’t exactly know what to say to this boy. “Sorry.” 

He paused for a moment, and then he nodded. “Not one for conversation. That’s fine.” 

“I did almost just die,” you said wryly. “I’m fresh out of icebreakers at the moment.” 

“Maybe I can help with that.” He held out his hand. “Luke Castellan. Head Counselor of the Hermes cabin, and apparent rescuer of damsels.” 

You huffed a laugh as you stared at him. “I’m a damsel?” 

“I’d say you were in as much distress as someone could be back there,” he said with a shrug. “I practically saved your life. I think that deserves a handshake.” 

The slightest bit of tension dissolved from your shoulders and you shook his hand. His smile grew. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, dropping his hand. “You were pretty rough when I found you.” 

“Better,” you said, though you grimaced a bit as you tested your shoulder, and you decided to switch your pack to your other side. “Whoever that guy in the infirmary is, he’s good.” 

Luke nodded. “Son of Apollo—they’ve got healing abilities. Very useful when we’re all constantly getting injured.” 

Your brows knit together. “So it really is all real.” 

“You were nearly dead on our doorstep, and from those claw marks I’m guessing it wasn’t just a bad fall.” Luke offered a wry smile. “I’m sure you’ve known it’s all real for a while.” 

“Of course,” you said. “It’s just weird to really know that it’s all real. To see all of you, really. Just knowing I’m not alone.” 

He nodded. “That’s the best thing about it, knowing you’re not alone.” He looked around at your surroundings—various campers chatting as they walked with each other (some glancing at you as they went by), distant shouts and cheers, and a perfectly blue sky matching the perfectly blue house you just left. 

“I’d say the worst thing about it is feeling like I still have no idea what’s going on,” you said. “Unless the gods exist just to be deadbeats. That’d be disappointing.” 

Luke actually laughed at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and you found yourself smiling a bit. “I can tell we’re gonna get along.” 

Your own smile returned—it was like his joy was infectious. “You think so?” 

“I know so,” he nodded. “Just… try not to throw the gods’ names around like that. They don’t like to be talked about unless they’re being revered.” 

You huffed. “Sounds like an interesting place.” 

“Camp Halfblood,” he provided, and he gestured around you with his hand. “Keeping young heroes safe for over three millennia.” 

“What,” you said wryly, “are you their PR guy?” 

Luke laughed and shook his head. “It’s something Chiron likes to say.”

“You’re the second person to mention Chiron,” you said. “Who exactly is he?” 

“You haven’t gotten a tour yet?” 

You gave him a look. “Come on. You carried me in. You think I could have gotten a tour between then and now?” 

“Fair,” he admitted, and he tilted his head. “I can give you one, if you’re so inclined.” 

“I said I would wait for Tate,” you said. “He’s my satyr— I figure I owe it to him.” 

“C’mon,” Luke said. “He’s meeting Chiron and Mr. D—that’ll take long enough on its own, and if we don’t get out of here soon enough, you’re gonna get dragged into a whole other conversation with them. At least this way, you can get a little bit of downtime before all the lore of this place is dropped on you.” 

You bit your lip, and then you sighed and nodded. “Fine. But it can’t take too long.” 

Luke smiled and held up three fingers. “Halfblood’s honor.” 

-

You didn’t know where to start.

There were far more people than you expected, not nearly enough beds for all of them, and half were talking and a quarter were fighting and the others were just completely unfazed. All you could do when you walked in was stare.

“You get used to it,” Luke said, glancing over at you. “Everyone’s nice, I promise—just keep a hand on your pockets.” 

You frowned. “Why?” 

He gave you a crooked smile. “Hermes is the god of thieves. We learn by experience in this cabin.” 

Your hands instinctively reached back to the pockets of your jeans, despite the fact that you hardly had anything to your name. “Why do they put the new, naive kids in here again?” 

“God of travellers, too—all are welcome.” Luke saw your hand shoot to your pocket and laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone mess with you too much—for now, at least.” 

“Oh, good,” you said lightly. “The hazing doesn’t start until later.” 

Luke smiled as he continued to guide you through the cabin, nodding to and greeting campers with equal parts names and handshakes as he walked past them. You got just as many stares as Luke did hellos, and your skin crawled at the attention. 

“Why are they all looking at me?” you whispered to him. 

“Like I said, you’re the first new camper in a while.” Luke glanced at you. “News spreads fast, especially in this wreck of a place.” 

“It’s not that bad,” you said , but your grip tightened on your backpack strap. “Just very busy.”

“That’s what happens when they shove everyone in here,” Luke said. “All are welcome means all are welcome—Hermes kids, unclaimed kids, and kids of minor gods.”

You frowned. “Minor gods don’t have cabins?” 

“This place is as much for us as it is in honor of the gods,” he said. “Twelve cabins for twelve Olympians. They don’t see it as a problem, therefore we can’t see it as a problem.” 

You decided to bite your tongue, but you couldn’t hide your sigh. “I guess I’m gonna be here for the time being.” 

He looked you up and down, and all you could think was that you must look like an absolute disaster. “I’m guessing you fall into the unclaimed.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, a sad attempt at a smile. “Yeah, but I just got here—I bet my mom doesn’t even know it yet. Gods are busy.”

“They’re also omniscient,” Luke said wryly. “I’m sure she could have claimed you the second you crossed the border. Your parent could’ve given you a little divine intervention and kept you from nearly dying on the hill.”

“Well, I’m here for now,” you said with a bit too much force, and your nails dug into your palms. “So do you mind showing me around?” 

Luke stared at you for a moment before he smiled. “‘Course not. I can also give you a quick tour of camp too, if you haven’t already gotten one.”

You shook your head. “Only the infirmary.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “you heal up well.”

“I don’t think that’s a credit to me,” you said. “I think it’s whatever magical drink that healer gave me while he was trying to bring me back. Tasted like pecan pie.”

“Nectar,” he said as he started walking, and you followed behind him. “Drink  of the gods that heals demigods in small portions. It tastes like your favorite food—same as ambrosia.” He stopped in an empty corner and looked at you. “You like pecans?”

You shrugged, suddenly self conscious. “My dad makes it the best.”

“I hope you’ll be able to get the real thing soon,” he said, and then he gestured with a flourish at the same empty corner. “Welcome to your new home.”

You stared at him. “This is the floor.”

“We’re a little overbooked,” Luke said sheepishly. “If it makes you feel better, we’ve got sleeping bags. And this is a top tier corner. Quieter than the others.”

“…Great,” you said. “I feel very welcome.”

“I’m sorry.” To his credit, he sounded like he meant it. “Bunch of unclaimed kids, couple kids of minor gods, couple Hermes kids—it all kinda adds up to a mess.”

“...It’ll be better than camping,” you said, though mostly to yourself as you took your bag off your shoulder and let it thud to the ground. 

“Hey,” Luke said, and his voice was softer, “it’ll be okay. With any luck, your parent’ll notice you now that you’re at camp, and you’ll be claimed before you know it.” 

“I hope so,” you murmured. 

“Luke, who’s the new girl?” 

A boy with curls just as good as Luke’s walked up and clapped him on the back, smiling at you in a way that instantly set you at ease. He also wore the orange camp shirt, with long tan sleeves below that he’d pushed up to his forearms. He had kind eyes. 

Luke said your name, his own smirk on his lips as he looked back at you. “You’ve probably heard about her dramatic entrance by now, but she’s the newest resident of the Hermes cabin.”

“Unclaimed or your sibling?” he asked. 

“...Unclaimed,” you said yourself. You hadn’t even been here for more than two hours and it already felt like your own brand of shame.  

He repeated your name with a nod and held out his hand. “I’m Chris,” he said. “Fellow unclaimed kid.”

A little bit less of a scarlet letter, at least. You swallowed your budding insecurity and shook his hand. “Sounds like a shitty club to be in.”

He snorted. “You’re telling me.”

“How— how long has it been?” you asked hesitantly, almost afraid to know the answer. 

His lips pressed into a tight smile. “Couple years.” 

“Gods,” you murmured. You didn’t know if you’d be able to wait that long. It had been hard enough already growing up without one—if your mother was just out of reach after all this time, you would surely lose your mind. 

“Don’t worry,” Chris said, his expression softening a bit. “It won’t take that long for you. I can tell.” 

“That’s what Luke said,” you responded wryly. “Do I give off a vibe that says ‘I’m unwanted, but not for too long’?” 

Luke laughed and shook his head. “I promise, it’s all gonna be okay. I’ve been the counselor here for a couple months—kids get claimed all the time. I bet you’re next on the list.” 

“Maybe,” you said. You didn’t believe it as much as they did—if they did at all. 

You heard the door open and your head automatically turned to the noise, and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks in embarrassment as Tate came through, slightly out of breath. You stared at Luke—he said thirty minutes at least. He just shrugged. 

“I figured you would be here,” Tate said, his chest rising and falling just so as he walked—trotted?—inside. “You didn’t exactly wait.” 

You opened your mouth to speak up, but Luke beat you, already putting on a charming smile. “Sorry. We got to talking, and then I offered to show her around the Hermes cabin. Just so she  could put her things down, y’know.” 

“‘Course,” Tate nodded. “That— that was probably a good idea. Would have been bad if you got lost or something.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you went to pick your bag up. “Luke said you would be talking for a lot longer— I was going to come back after I was done with this.”

Tate shook his head. That nervous energy from the worst parts of the road was back, and you wondered how badly the talk with Chiron and Mr. D went. “No, it was a good idea. Better than you getting lost around camp or caught up with some troublemakers. Thanks, Luke.” 

“‘Course,” he said. 

“Not sure she’s in much better hands with Luke,” Chris said wryly. “He’s head troublemaker in the cabin of troublemakers.” 

Luke just chuckled and shook his head. “It’s her first day. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.” 

You were only able to glance at Luke for a moment before your attention was drawn back to Tate as he gestured outside with his head. “Chiron’s waiting outside. He wants to talk to you some before the tour.” 

And now you had to deal with it too. “...Great,” you said. You set your bag back on the ground, in your newly coveted corner.  

“It’ll be fine,” Tate promised. “You already went through Hades to get here— he’s not gonna pile on you more. That’s why Mr. D is back at the Big House.” 

This time, you did look at Luke. Thankfully, he understood. 

“Dionysus,” he explained. “He’s our camp director.” 

You blinked. “The god?” 

“Yep,” he nodded. “Punishment from Zeus. Not the worst gig, but he’s… interesting.” 

“Great,” you repeated, because you didn’t feel like processing that at the moment, and you looked back at Tate. “You’ll be with me, right?” 

He nodded. “Not for the talk, but for the tour.” 

You let out a loose breath, because it was going to be fine. He was just the authority figure of the one safe place in the world for you, and you were just an annoying kid that had no idea what the hell was going on. 

“Great,” you said for the third time. You looked back at Luke. “I’ll see you around?” 

He smiled and bowed his head. “Definitely. You do kinda live here indefinitely now.” 

You nodded, more relieved than you wanted to show, and you started following Tate out.

You heard Chris mutter something to Luke, and you turned your head in time to see Luke jab him in the side. His head perked up when you laughed, and his whole expression changed as his smile returned and he did a little wave. 

You couldn’t help but smile back as you did the same, and you left the cabin with a little pep in your step. 

—

“You promise you’ll be safe.” 

“Yes, Tate,” you said with a slight laugh. “The worst is already over—you got me here, and we’re both alive. I’m gonna be fine.” 

“I know,” he said, and he managed his own smile. “I’m just worried about you. You don’t spend two weeks on the road fighting for your life with someone and not get a little attached.” 

“You’ll be back here, right?” you asked. “I know your whole thing as a Protector, but you’ve gotta drop the demigods off too, right?” 

“Of course I’ll be back,” he promised. “It… just might be a while. You’re the third demigod I’ve gotten to camp safely, now—Chiron’s trusting me with a bigger mission. It might be a couple months, but I’ll be back.” 

“And you’re telling me to be safe,” you said wryly. 

“I’ve been doing this for a while,” he said. “You just got here.” 

“I know,” you said, and you pulled him into a hug. “Just don’t get killed out there.” 

Tate laughed and patted you on the back before he pulled away. “So long as you don’t killed out here.” 

“Thanks for everything,” you said with a nod. 

“Thank you,” he said, and he gestured at the pavilion with his head. “Now get over there and make some friends. I’ll see you around.” 

You hugged him one last time before you reluctantly went off, and you looked back to wave him goodbye before you really started on your way. 

Your head still spun with all the information Chiron and Tate had imparted on you—so much about Greek mythology (and how it was all real), ADHD and dyslexia (and how they weren’t just there to make your life harder), your godly parent (who would hopefully claim you within the month) and so much more that you knew you would forget in an hour or two. 

And Chiron’s talk. God, it felt more like you were in the principal’s office than anything, even though he was nothing but kind. You couldn’t help but be overwhelmed from it all, and though the talk was probably meant to stave some of that anxiety off, it really didn’t. 

But you’d always felt out of place all your life. And now you were finally where you were meant to belong—that had to count for something. 

Tate had dropped you off at the pavilion—nearly dying had taken a lot out of you, and it just happened to be lunch—and just as you neared the tables and realized you had no idea where to sit, your eyes were drawn to a boy raising his hand and calling your name. 

You looked over and saw that it was Luke, the counselor from earlier, and you couldn’t help but smile. True to his word. 

You weaved your way through various campers and around tables full of kids to finally stop next to Luke’s table—Chris, the guy from earlier, sat across from him, and they both smiled at you. 

“How’d the tour go?” he asked. 

“Fine,” you said with a nod. “A little overwhelming, but better than I thought.” You pulled at your new camp shirt, the fabric noticeably brighter than a majority of those around you. “I match now, at least.”

“Orange suits you,” Luke remarked, and he patted the open spot next to him. “Sit down—stay for a while.”

You chuckled as you sat down. You still felt out of place, but at least they weren’t going to hang you out to dry. “Bright orange seems like an odd choice when we’re trying to stay hidden.”

“Probably so Chiron doesn’t lose us,” he joked. “This place is huge, and there’s a lot of us. When the newest camper gets turned around in the woods during capture the flag and nearly dies to a monster, it’s easier to find them.”

You frowned, and you must’ve not been very good at hiding your panic because Chris shook his head.

“Luke, you’re scaring her. She’s already been through enough.” 

“Don’t worry,” Luke said, patting you on the shoulder. “Just a little halfblood humor. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” you said wryly. “It feels like I nearly died four hours ago and now I have no idea who anyone is or what to do.”

“Not true,” Chris spoke up, and he smiled. “You know us.”

“I’ll look out for you,” Luke promised. “And pretty soon, you’re gonna be good enough to look out for me.”

You let out a long lasting sigh. “God, I hope so.” 

—

“You’re not holding it right.” 

You adjusted your hold on the hilt, resisting the urge to wipe away the bead of sweat dripping down your forehead and the even stronger urge to hit him. 

“You’re still not holding it right.” 

Your teeth grinded together as you turned to look at Luke. “Are you gonna actually help me, or just stand there judgmentally?” 

“I dunno,” he said. “The weather’s pretty good over here.” 

You groaned and moved your non-dominant hand closer to the pommel, shifting your other down as well. “Is this worthy of your approval, Your Majesty?” 

Luke chuckled as he walked over to you, and you could feel the calluses on his hands as he adjusted your form with slight touches to your arms. “It is acceptable, my lady, but your posture is not.” 

“I don’t know how so many people at this camp like you,” you grumbled. “This is awful, and so are you.” 

He smiled. “You’ve been here for two weeks. Give yourself some grace.” 

“I’ve spent one of those trying and failing at the most basic basics of sword-fighting,” you said. “I spent the past hour losing to an Ares kid who I’m pretty sure actually wanted to kill me.” You looked over at Luke. “Thanks for that, by the way.” 

“Trial by fire,” he supplied. “You’re still alive, so obviously you’re doing something right.” 

“Yeah, probably because you’re here,” you said. “You can’t just kill someone when their counselor’s standing right next to them. It’s bad publicity.” 

Luke huffed a laugh and shook his head as he crossed his arms. “Stop talking down on yourself. You managed to make it here with a couple monster attacks on the way—what’d you use then?” 

“I started off with a screwdriver I stole from the garage before Tate and I left,” you said. “And then I stole a hunting knife from some outdoor store. Not exactly top-tier.” 

“Lotta stealing,” Luke chuckled. “Maybe you are a Hermes kid.” 

“They nearly caught me,” you said. “Definitely not.” 

“Regardless of thievery, you still survived,” he continued. “You’re not a bonafide swordsman, that’s fine. But you’re resourceful, creative—scrappy in a fight is just what we need sometimes.” 

“Great,” you mumbled. “I’m ‘scrappy’.” 

“It’s a compliment,” he promised. “If we were all sword-fighters, we wouldn’t get far. Someone like you is gonna do us a lot of good.” 

“If I don’t die before I even get out to the battlefield.” You knocked the helmet off of one of the straw dummies with your sword and sighed as it clattered to the ground. “This is the only enemy I stand a chance against.”

“You’re thinking too much about it all,” Luke said. “You’re literally wired for battle—didn’t you feel it during your fights on the way to camp?”

You shrugged. You guess you did—you remember not even taking the time to analyze the situation, just knowing your lives were in danger and finally feeling the ever-present jitters in your bones settle for the first time. 

“It was rough,” you finally said. “But… it did feel like I knew what I was doing. Like my body understood it all even when my mind was still a couple steps behind.”

“And that was without training, and with,” Luke huffed an incredulous laugh, “a screwdriver. Just imagine what you’ll be able to do with actual Celestial bronze and actual training.” 

“…I think I remember why people like you,” you said reluctantly. “And why I liked you.” 

Luke grinned as he stood up. “That’s the spirit.” He picked up the fallen helmet and placed it back on the dummy, then looked at you. “I think I’ve put you through enough suffering. Let’s get lunch.”

“So a compliment was all it took for me to get out of this?” you asked in exasperation, gesturing with your sword as you worked to undo the ties on your armor with your other hand. 

“Exactly,” he mused, and he took the sword from you to store it away. “I don’t get nearly enough compliments these days, y’know. Sometimes you end up taking that out on campers that don’t know how to swordfight.” 

“Luke Castellan,” you grumbled as you finally got your breastplate off, “you are a piece of work.” 

He winked. “Thank you.” 

—

You didn’t think you were built for this life. 

It was the only thought running through your head as you sat at a crowded Hermes table, absentmindedly picking at fruit with your fork as you stared off into the distance.

You’d been at Camp Halfblood for a month now, but it had already felt like a lifetime. 

You’d managed to make a few friends—a Demeter girl who grew you a bouquet of your favorite flowers as a consolation prize for fighting dirty during training; an Athena boy who told you whatever interesting fact popped into his head first every time you ran into each other; the Hebe girl who had the misfortune to have the corner opposite you in the Hermes cabin and showed you skincare tips once in a while. 

Throw in a smattering of Hermes and unclaimed kids and a counselor that seemed determined to make you smile, and you weren’t as lonely as you thought you’d be. 

You were learning how to fight in your own way. Luke was right—you weren’t a swordsman, but you were damn good up close and personal. He’d taken you to the camp armory, you found a Celestial bronze dagger that spoke to you, and from then on you’d actually been doing well in training.

Your corner of the Hermes cabin didn’t feel as sad anymore, either. Luke took you to the camp store for retail therapy after you nearly burned your jeans off on the climbing wall, so now you had an AC/DC poster (courtesy of the little money you had) and an I ❤️ NY keychain to attach to your backpack (courtesy of Luke’s idle hands).

You were starting to come into your own, sure. You were doing better in training and making friends in the cabin you were stuck in and starting to get used to burning part of every meal, but the most glaring issue of all still hadn’t been resolved.

You still hadn’t been claimed. 

And maybe it shouldn’t have been such an issue for you, but how could you not feel shitty? How could you see all the different tables and all the different kids talking and smiling and joking with each other that had parents who cared enough to at least claim them, and not feel unworthy?

Because you did. You felt unworthy, and it didn’t matter how many times you took your sparring partner down or bested the climbing wall or actually hit the bullseye at archery practice—your mother didn’t think you were good enough, so neither did you. 

“How’re you doin’, Berkeley?” 

You frowned. You didn’t have to look up to know it was Luke as he sat down next to you. “What?”

“Did you not hear me?” he asked, but you were already shaking your head.

“Berkeley,” you repeated, finally glancing at him. “That’s not my name.”

Luke shrugged. “I dunno what to tell you. You’re unclaimed. UC. University of California—first one I think of for you is Berkeley.”

You were staring now. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’ve got tons of UCs. I’ve gotta keep track of them all somehow,” Luke said, and he pointed at campers both at your table and walking around as he talked. “That’s LA, Irvine, Davis—the others aren’t here, but you get the gist.” He looked back at you. “Been savin’ Berkeley for someone special.”

“Oh gods,” you said, horrified. “I’ve got to get claimed.”

One of the girls at the table—Irvine?—rolled her eyes as she stood up and flicked Luke on the head. “Be nice,” she said before walking away. All he did was smile.

“Maybe give it to someone else,” you said. “I don’t feel special.”

Luke’s brows creased. “If you don’t like it—”

“It’s fine,” you said. “The name doesn’t bother me. The reason I have it does.”

His eyes softened as he said your actual name. “It’s only been a month. You’ve still got plenty of time.”

You looked across at the Hebe girl you’d become friends with—Marisol, if you remembered right—and hoped that your eyes didn’t show the desperation you felt. “How long did it take for you?” 

She offered a sympathetic smile. “Six months. But it probably won’t be that long for you.” 

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” you mumbled. But it had been a month, and you hadn’t gotten a single sign. 

“Because it’s true,” Luke urged. “Whoever your mom is will notice you—you’ve been killing it lately.” 

“Really,” you said flatly, “I’ve been killing it.” 

“Yes,” he said. “You don’t know it because you’ve only got your own experience—you went from nearly dead on our doorstep to taking down most of your opponents.” 

“In training,” you said. 

“That still counts!” Luke exclaimed. “Y’know, you’re holding yourself back. You’re incredible, but you’re the only one that seems to not notice it.” 

“And my—” 

“Do not say your mom,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “We’re not talking about the gods right now, we’re talking about you. And you, Bee, are killing it.” 

That gave you pause. “Bee?” 

“I’m trying to get you back up and you focus on the nickname?” Luke asked wryly. 

“Just explain it,” you said. 

“Bee shortened from Berkeley,” he said. “Not fully unclaimed, but still something special.”

God, you hated him. You’d been feeling shitty for a majority of your month here, but he always managed to make you smile.  

“Sure,” you said. 

“And a little annoying,” he added, earning himself a jab in the side as he laughed, “with a bit of a sting.”

“Aren’t you just so clever?” you mused, though you couldn’t help your smile widening.

“It’s in my genes,” he said proudly.

For the rest of a less than exciting lunch, Luke kept you occupied. Whether it was stories of his life before camp, or the couple of months that earned him counselor before you got here, or getting the other campers at the Hermes table to talk about themselves, he made sure you didn’t get a chance to spiral. 

By the end, your face hurt from smiling

As you finished cleaning up, Marisol turned to you.  “Me and a couple other girls were gonna go play volleyball—do you wanna come with us?” 

“Yeah,” you said, and your smile grew. “Yeah, I’d love to. Thanks.” 

“‘Course!” she exclaimed, and she linked arms with you. “I’d be a fool not to get you on my team after you took down Liam yesterday.” 

She continued to talk as she pulled you along, and you looked back at Luke. He chuckled and gave you a thumbs up. “Go get ‘em, Bee!” 

You gave him one back, and as you turned back to Marisol, you found that you couldn’t stop smiling. 

—

It was two in the morning and you couldn’t stop crying.

You finally had a mattress against your back, and however stiff it was, it was better than the floor. A decent amount of kids got claimed over the past month, and half the cabin left after the summer was over, so you finally had the privilege of a bunk—thankfully, Marisol did too, and she was below you. 

At least, until the summer-only campers that all the Hermes kids liked more than you returned. Then it was back to the floor.

Unless you got claimed before then. But that was less likely than being able to muster some good will from your cabin mates. 

Because it was embarrassing, truly. You’d been at camp for four months now, and you hadn’t even gotten a single goddamn peep from whoever your mother might be. You just woke up every day on the floor, moseyed about a camp that still didn’t feel like home, burned offerings to a god that didn't want you, and went back to sleep on the floor. 

And now you were crying in a bed that was barely even yours and it was two in the morning and you were wondering if it would have just been better for you to die on the road to camp the first time, because at least then your mother might have actually paid attention to you. 

“Hey.” 

And now you were really wishing you’d died because you’d woken someone up and they’re just gonna hate you more— 

“Are you okay?” 

You finally turned your head from where it had been buried in a pillow, a laissez-faire attempt to suffocate yourself or maybe just muffle the noise, and you saw Luke Castellan. Counselor of a cabin of thieves, vagabonds, and rejects, and maybe the only person that you didn’t want to see you like this. All that good will, the unearned faith you’d accumulated—this was the easiest way to lose it. His eyebrows were creased, and his whisper held what sounded like concern, but he was required to be concerned. 

You nodded, still not moving, still not speaking. Tears rolled down your cheeks and stained the bed sheet. 

“You’re gonna have to be a little more believable than that, Bee,” Luke murmured. 

“No, I don’t,” you whispered back. 

You got the tiniest huff of a laugh out of him, and he gestured towards the closed door with his head. “Wanna take a second?” 

“It’s past curfew,” you mumbled. 

“And you’re miserable,” Luke said. “You can’t feel any worse getting eaten by harpies than you do now.” 

Still, you stared at him. 

“It’ll be okay,” he promised. “Right outside the cabin. Harpies won’t even know.” 

You rubbed a hand across your face, coming away wet with tears, and you realized that he wasn’t just going to leave you like this. So you got up as quietly as you could, careful not to disturb your bunkmates, and followed Luke. He pushed the door open and shut so quietly you wondered how many times he’s snuck out. 

The cold air was sobering, and you wiped away more tears before wrapping your arms around yourself. Camp Half-Blood was always supposed to have perfect weather, but you guess not even they were immune to November nights. 

“So,” Luke started, and in your peripherals you could see him leaning against the side of the cabin. You could feel his gaze on you, and you just stared off into the distance. 

“So,” you repeated. 

“You wanna tell me why you’re crying in the middle of the night?” he asked. 

“Not really,” you said, because it felt ridiculous that a boy your age was acting like he’s ten years your elder. 

Luke chuckled and tipped his head. “Fair. You want to say anything at all?” 

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” 

He shook his head. “I was already up. I’m a light sleeper.” 

“Seems rough in a cabin like this,” you said. 

“I’ve gotten used to it,” he said. “Did you have a nightmare?”

You frowned, because now it really felt like he was babying you. Luke must have caught on, because he laughed a bit and shook his head.

“Demigods have… extremely vivid dreams,” he said. “Typically horrific nightmares. Sometimes prophetic.”

Your frown deepened. “That’s awful.”

Luke shrugged. “It’s just the way it is. The gods can’t interfere in mortal affairs, so I guess it’s their way of letting us know what’s wrong.”

You shook your head with a sigh. “No nightmares, thankfully. Just… feeling overwhelmed.”

“About what?” he asked. “I told you you’ve been doing great.” 

“It doesn’t matter how many times you say it,” you said wryly. “It doesn’t mean I believe it.” 

“There’s no reason you shouldn’t,” he asserted. 

You huffed a laugh. “It’s been four months, Luke. Four months since I got here after nearly dying in five different states, and I don’t even know who’s responsible for it.” 

“Ah,” Luke said. “The unclaimed thing.” 

��Yeah,” you said wryly. “I guess you could call it that.”

“Sorry,” he said, and he shook his head. “It’s a bigger deal than that, I know.” 

“Maybe it isn’t,” you said. “There’s at least six other kids in there dealing with the same thing as I am, and none of them are waking up their counselor in the middle of the night with their tears.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Luke said with surprising conviction. “Like your feelings aren’t valid. Because they are.” 

You crossed your arms. “Doesn’t seem like it.” 

“They are,” he insisted. “A— and you’re not bothering me. We’re friends, and we help each other. I care about you, y’know.” 

“I never said I was bothering you,” you said wryly. 

“You thought it,” Luke said. “I know you did.” 

“...Maybe.” You sighed and shook your head as you looked out at the stars. They really were beautiful here. “I just can’t help but be bitter about all this, and I feel so shitty about it.” 

“Would it make you feel better to know you’re not the only one that thinks that?” he asked. 

“A little, yeah.” You glanced at him. “No one else seems too bothered that their parents are never around.” 

“Most of them have accepted that it’s just the way it is,” he said. “Doesn’t mean you have to.” 

“Have you?” 

Luke sighed after a moment of reluctance. “I… I have a complicated relationship with my dad because he was around. It was almost… worse to know him, and then to have him leave.” 

“It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” you quoted. 

“I don’t know about that,” Luke murmured. “But it certainly helps to talk about it.” 

You glanced over to see him gazing off into the distance, a look in his eye that you couldn’t quite place. This was the most he’d ever talked about his past to you, you realized—and it still wasn’t much. 

“When were you claimed?” you asked after a moment of contemplation.

Luke shrugged. “I never really had to be. Hermes stayed with my mom for a year after I was born, and she told me who he was when I was a little older. I’ve known basically my whole life—he had no reason not to claim me as soon as I got to camp.”

“So you’re saying my dad could be keeping secrets from me too,” you said. 

“He might not know,” Luke said. “A lot of times, they don’t talk about it. Sometimes, we don’t find out until a monster’s trying to kill us on a field trip.” 

You huffed. “What a great existence we’ve been blessed with.” 

Luke smiled, though it was tighter than usual. He let out a deep breath, then fully turned to you. 

“Do you have your dagger with you?”

You frowned. “It’s under my pillow. Why?” 

“Under your—” Luke stared for a moment before he laughed and shook his head. “A little paranoid?” 

You shrugged. “You said it yourself. You’re a cabin of thieves.” 

“True,” he admitted. “How’d you like to get some of this emotion out?” 

“We’re sneaking out even more?” 

“It’ll be fine,” Luke promised. 

“You always say that,” you said. “Eventually, it’s not gonna be true.” 

He laughed and gestured at the door. “Get your dagger. We’re gonna make this a very bad night for some mannequins.” 

-

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.” 

You huffed as you ripped your dagger out of the dummy, a few strands of straw coming out of the new hole you’d torn in its forehead, and wiped the sweat off your forehead. “Are you kidding? This was a great idea.” 

“Not this part,” he said. “The ‘being alone with you during a rage’ part.” 

“I’m not in a rage,” you muttered as you slashed at the breastplate, “I’m blowing off steam.” 

Luke hummed. “And you thought you weren’t a good fighter.” 

You stabbed at the armor again then rammed your fist into its head, and you took a step back as the mannequin thudded to the ground. “I guess I just need to think about my mom before I go into battle.” 

“Y’know, Bee,” Luke said, “you scare me sometimes.” 

You shook your head, wiping your blade on your night shirt to get any debris off as you turned around. “You’re really gonna stick with that?” 

“I told you I’d stop if you didn’t like it.” 

“It’s not that. I just…” You sighed and shook your head again. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Of course it does.” Luke crossed his arms. “Everything you have to say matters.” 

“Not if I say it doesn’t,” you countered, and you looked at him. “Who do you think it could be?” 

“Your parent?” he asked. You nodded. 

“Definitely not Apollo,” Luke said. “You’re way too dreary to be a kid of the god of the sun.”

“Gee,” you said dryly, “thanks.” 

Luke shrugged. “You asked.” 

“Well— who else?” You picked the dummy back up and dusted the armor off. “Athena, maybe? I’m smart.” 

“Not smart enough to not be out past curfew with me,” he said. 

“You suggested this,” you scoffed. “And I definitely needed it. If we get caught, I’m blaming you.” 

“And why do you think that would work?” he asked, amused. 

“You’re the camp’s golden boy,” you said. “I doubt you’d get in much trouble.” 

“Sure, sure,” he said, nodding. “Or you just think I’m good enough to talk my way out of it.” 

You tilted your head. “That too.”

“I never thought Ares before,” Luke chuckled, “but after all this, I think you might have it in you.” 

“God, I hope not. Priya hates me.” 

“She doesn’t hate you,” Luke said. “She just tried to kill you that one time.” 

“And that other time during capture the flag,” you said. “She’s out for blood, Luke.” 

He chuckled and shook his head. “She always is. She’s probably already moved onto her next victim.” 

“I hope so.” 

“Maybe Aphrodite?” he suggested. “You’re awfully pretty.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Luke corrected. 

You huffed a laugh but couldn’t help the slightest smile as you shook your head. “It’s not Tyche, at least. I have the worst luck.” 

“Maybe you’re a Big Three kid,” he said. “How do you feel about the sky?” 

“I like it,” you said. 

“The ocean?” 

“Not so much.” 

“And the darkness?” 

You huffed a dry laugh. “I’m not a Big Three kid, Luke. Even I know that.” 

“No, you don’t,” he said. “You can never know for sure until you’re claimed.” 

“If I was, I would be the biggest disappointment,” you said, looking at your reflection in your dagger. “Breaking their pact for a kid that can barely fight.” 

“Why do you always do that?” 

Luke’s voice had lost the joking edge from before, and when you glanced over at him, he was frowning.

“Do what?” 

“You always put yourself down,” he said. “You don’t even give yourself a chance to believe that you’ll be great, or that you’ll succeed—you’re just a coward, or a failure, or worthless at the first bump in the road.” 

“Luke—” 

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I need you to understand that you are so, so much more than whatever that shitty voice in your head says.”

You went silent. Any words you could have even said stuck in your throat. 

“This is not an easy life,” Luke asserted. “We’re thrown into an ocean before we know how to swim, and we have to find the shore all on our own or die trying. We—” he laughed, but there was no heart in it— “we’ve got our parents above us that could guide us, could save us, but most of the time they refuse to even acknowledge us. And we’ve got every single goddamn obstacle in the way trying to kill us.”

He inclined his head towards you. “But in spite of all that, you’re alive. You’re still here. You’re pushing through everything in your path, and you are still fucking here. Do you get that?”

“…I’m still here,” you repeated, and your hands clenched into fists. It had never felt more right to have your dagger in your hand. 

Luke nodded resolutely. “And you’ve got a couple lifeboats to help along the way.”

“You mean it?” Your voice came out softer than you thought, in stark contrast to the stiffness of your bones, but you felt like a kid all over again. 

“With all my heart,” he promised. “For as long as you’re here, I’ll be here.” 

Your throat tightened, and the telltale beginnings of tears pricked behind your eyes. This time, when you spoke, your voice was little more than a whisper. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he said. “And I mean that.”

You nodded, maybe a few too many times, and cleared your throat as you looked back at your dagger. “It’s late. We should get back before we actually get in trouble.”

Luke nodded too, and he helped you move the dummy back into place. You hated how your heart jumped into your throat when your hands brushed for the barest moment, but thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. 

“Thank you for this.” You played with your hands as Luke finished putting everything else away—extra insurance to make sure no one knew you were here—and only managed to make eye contact just as he looked at you. “It… it really helped.” More than he knew, you were sure. 

Luke smiled, and he offered you his arm. “Always.”

You took it, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “Just… don’t tell anyone about the crying.”

He chuckled as you started walking together. “After the way you’ve been handling that dagger? I’d be a fool.“

-

“Luke,” you groaned, “this is awful.” 

“You were the one who said you wanted to spend time with me,” he said, giving you a crooked smile. “Spending time with me after the worst cabin inspection ever means cleaning the place head to toe for our next one.” 

“Is skipping dinner really worth it though?” you asked as you scooped up a pile of dirty clothes and tossed it into the basket between you two. 

“It’s the only time this place is completely empty,” he said. “I told you I could handle it alone—you’re the one that insisted on helping.” 

“Maybe I do want to be a Big Three kid,” you grumbled. “At least I’d only be cleaning up my own mess.” 

“You’d also have the wrath of the gods and every monster in the world to deal with,” he said. 

You shook your head. “A small price to pay for a clean cabin.” 

“And then you wouldn’t get to see me when you wake up every day,” he mused. “A much bigger price to pay.” 

You huffed as you dropped to your knees, reaching under a bed to grab a stray camp tee. “Keep talking, pretty boy. It won’t clean the floors.” 

Luke grinned. “You think I’m pretty?” 

“I think you’ve got the messiest cabin in the world,” you said. “We’ve gotten the lowest rating every day for the past two weeks. I’ve been here for seven months now, and I don’t think we’ve ever gotten a full five.” 

“Which is why you’re helping me!” he said. “Because you’re as sick of scrubbing the pegasi stables as I am.” 

“You’re the counselor here!” you exclaimed. “You’ve gotta whip your siblings into shape.” 

Luke gestured at you. “You’re basically my co-counselor. It’s just as much your responsibility.” 

“And just what makes you think that?” you marveled. 

“You’re the person in the cabin I like the most,” he said, “and we spend a lot of time together. That’s enough to make you my partner.” 

“My stuff is always clean,” you said. “It’s you and the rest of the Hermes kids that’ve gotten us stuck in the stables and the kitchens every afternoon. Not me.”

You started remaking the unmade bed—would it kill any of the Hermes kids to make theirs right after they got up?—and shook your head. “It’s just not fair. Aphrodite’s cabin is basically Barbie’s Dreamhouse, and Demeter kids can grow plants to make it all pretty. We’ve just got a cabin of slobs.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, but when you glanced at him, you saw he was smiling. “It’ll all be fine.” 

“You always say that.” You got the fitted sheet into all the corners then looked at him full-on. “Even when it’s not about something as stupid as laundry. How do you know?” 

Luke shrugged as he nudged a ladder to a top bunk back into place. “I don’t. I just hope for the best.” 

“How do you do that?” you asked. “How does anyone here do that? I feel like I’m the most pessimistic person here.” 

“Every single one of us is an anomaly,” Luke said. “Freaks of nature. By all accounts of logic, we shouldn’t exist. But we do. All of mythology does. And when we have to literally fight for our lives for every single day, it doesn’t do much good to sweat the small stuff.”

“All I do is sweat the small stuff,” you grumbled, and you stretched your back out before you continued. “D’you think they’ll get annoyed that we just pooled all their laundry together again?” 

“Nah,” Luke said. “If they didn’t want to have to pick all their stuff out after we so graciously do the laundry for them, they would keep their things clean in the first place.” 

You chuckled and shook your head as you finished laying out the sorry excuse for a comforter—it would end up on the floor five seconds into the night, but Sisyphus and the boulder and all that—and sat down on the fruits of your labor. “I think this mess is the one thing I won’t miss when I get claimed.” 

“You’re not as down about that as you used to be,” Luke noted.

“You know how they say a watched pot never boils?” 

He actually laughed at that as he leaned against a bed post. “If you don’t care, you’ll get claimed faster?” 

You shrugged. “Nothing else has worked. And like you said—don’t sweat the small stuff, right?” 

“Like you said— all you do is sweat the small stuff.” 

“Maybe I’m gonna try and turn over a new leaf,” you mused.

“I think that would be good for you,” he said. “You’ve been happier lately. It’s good to see you happy.” 

“You’ve been watching?” you asked wryly. 

Luke smiled. “You know I always am.” 

You ignored the warmth stirring in your chest as you shrugged. “I’ve spent way too much time this year being sad over things I can’t control. Might as well start focusing on the things I can.” 

“And to think,” he mused, “this is the same girl that wanted nothing to do with me when we first talked.” 

“Oh, please,” you said dryly, “I’ve always wanted something to do with you.” 

“And you still understand that flattery gets you everywhere,” Luke said with a grin. He pushed himself up and held out his hand. “C’mon—this place is clean enough. I think if we run, we can still make dinner.” 

“Think we’ll get in trouble for partially skipping?” you asked as you stood up and took his hand, swinging your intertwined hands a bit as you walked together. 

Luke chuckled as he pushed the door open and you walked out. “After the work we did here? We should be hailed as saints.”  

-

“Luke,” you whispered. 

His eyes shot wide open as he jolted up, and you had to stifle your laugh at his bewildered expression before he realized it was you. 

He said your name groggily, rubbing his eyes as he kept himself propped up with his other arm. “What d’you need?” 

“The stars,” you said. “They’re beautiful tonight.” 

“So are you,” he mumbled. “You don’t see me waking you up in the middle of the night to tell you that.” 

“Luke,” you said, but you couldn’t help your smile. “On topic.” 

“The stars,” he said, barely nodding in his addled state. “Good for them. I’m going back to sleep now.” 

“No, Luke—” you laughed softly and took his hand. “Come stargazing with me.” 

He closed his eyes, but he didn’t take his hand away. “You’re insane.” 

“Please,” you said. “I could never see the stars at home, not like this. They’re brighter than I’ve ever seen.” 

“It’s so late,” he complained. “Can we do it in the morning?” 

“Do you know what stargazing is?” you asked, amused. 

“Hey, lovebirds.” The annoyed, tired voice of a camper rang out as they hit the wall. “Take it outside so we can sleep.” 

Again, you had to bite back a laugh. Luke looked like he was holding back a groan, but he got up anyway, rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes. You moved to the door as quietly as possible, and you waited until he joined you on the small porch. 

“Thank you,” you said, hearing the door close, “and sorry.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Luke covered up his yawn as he held a jacket out for you. “Put this on. I’m not gonna be responsible for you getting a cold because you want to stargaze in February.” 

Your eyebrows rose as you took it. “Is this yours?” 

“Don’t think too much into it,” he said, but he had the slightest smile on his lips. “You wanna see the stars, right? Let’s see ‘em.” 

“Not here,” you said, shaking your head as you zipped up the maroon hoodie. You held out your hand once you finished. “Do you trust me?” 

“Oh, gods,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “We’re doing a trust exercise too?” 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you remarked. You took his hand and started dragging him along, a clear spot in mind. 

“You’re kidding me,” he said in exasperation. “I thought we were just gonna look at the sky for a couple minutes— you’re taking me to a second destination?”  

“Hey,” you said, “don’t sweat the small stuff.” 

“Oh, I can’t wait to use that on the harpies when they catch us and eat us,” Luke said offhandedly. “‘I’m sorry, ma’am—we’re really trying not to sweat the small stuff.’” 

You laughed as you continued on your way, and out of the corner of your eye you could see Luke smiling too, despite himself. Suddenly, though, his grip tightened on your hand and he pulled you behind one of the thicker columns of the pavilion. 

“Wh—” 

He shook his head then gestured with it to the other side of the pavilion. One of the harpies—Aello, if you remembered correctly from Chris’s rant the past week about cleaning dishes—was walking past, muttering things to herself. 

“Speak of the devil,” you marveled. You definitely weren’t a child of Tyche. 

Luke gave you a look that quite clearly said be quiet, and for some reason that only made you want to laugh more. He must have seen that glint in your eye that he’d grown used to, because he placed his hand over your mouth right before the dam was about to burst. 

You squeezed his hand tight as you tried to keep yourself from blowing your cover while Luke occupied himself with actually watching to make sure your path would clear. You were pressed right up against each other, and even through the jacket, even in the cold, you could feel his body warmth. He did say he ran hot.

Eventually, Luke let out a labored sigh and let his hand drop, and you wheezed, nearly doubling over. 

“There is something wrong with you,” he said. He was barely able to hold back his own amusement.  

“Oh my god,” you breathed, “that was awful.” 

“That was your fault!” he exclaimed. 

“How was it my fault?” you argued. “You’re the counselor here—you’re meant to be the responsible one!” 

“I was being responsible!” Luke laughed again as he ran his hand through his hair then used it to gesture at you. “You were the one that nearly got us caught—you were the one who wanted to be out here in the first place!”

 “Right,” you said, pointing your finger, “we gotta get to the beach.” 

“Stargazing on the beach,” Luke marveled. “Definitely worth nearly getting eaten.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you said as you continued to pull him along. “You could’ve said no.” 

He squeezed your hand for a moment. “We both know I can never say no to you.” 

Once you got to the beach you let go of his hand and laid down, taking care not to get sand in your sneakers. Luke sat down next to you but stayed up, watching the tide go in and out. 

At night, without a hundred campers running around making all the noise they can, you actually felt like you could breathe. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” It almost felt wrong to break the sacred silence, to insert yourself in the ambiance of nature working together in all its glory. 

“Yeah.” Luke’s voice was softer than usual, that rough edge you’d grown used to absent in the face of calmer seas. “Yeah. It’s…” 

“Serene,” you suggested. 

“Beautiful,” he said. When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you. 

“Very smooth,” you said wryly. “Now stop flirting and look at the stars.” 

Luke chuckled lightly as he let himself fall back. His hand bumped yours as he adjusted his position, and your breath caught in your throat for the barest moment. You moved it away. 

The two of you laid there together in silence gazing at the stars for what felt like forever. The gentle waves coming to shore then leaving, the scattering of sand from quiet winds, and not a single angry car horn or police siren. 

You missed home, the city. You were headstrong in your belief that Detroit was better than New York. But gods—sometimes, you just couldn’t beat camp. 

You didn’t know what possessed you to break the silence. But something had been tugging at you since the moment you laid down on the beach, and so you did. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” 

Luke didn’t miss a beat. “Always.” 

“I…” you trailed off for a moment, but you bolstered yourself. “I’m scared of what comes next.” 

You heard Luke shift in the sand and felt his eyes on you. “What do you mean?” 

“After this,” you said. “The honeymoon phase of being a demigod.” 

He huffed a laugh. “I wouldn’t say we have a honeymoon phase.” 

“You know what I mean.” A shiver went down your spine and you put your arms on your chest. Like a coffin. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.” 

“I think you need to stop getting up in the middle of the night,” he said. “It seems you have all your existential crises then.” 

You exhaled out your nose, a sorry excuse for a laugh. “I’ve heard about quests—how they can happen for no reason except a god’s will, to— to prove that you’re worthy. And all I can think about is that my mother will never claim me until I prove I’m worthy or die trying.” 

Luke was silent. You could feel your throat closing up, the threatened onslaught of tears. You blinked them back. 

“All my life, I have never felt seen,” you murmured. “And I’m terrified that the only way I will be seen is when I die.”

“Look at me.” 

You turned your head—Luke’s eyes were piercing in the moonlight. 

“I don’t care what anyone says, especially that voice in your head—you’re worth everything and more,” he said. “And you are worth so much more than becoming a martyr for a god’s approval.” 

“I wish you could tell my mom that,” you mumbled. 

“I would march right up to Olympus and say it to her face,” he said. “And if it bothers her that much, she can smite me right now.” 

That got a breathy laugh out of you from the pure absurdity. Luke’s eyes flicked to the sky as he waited, and when he didn’t instantly die a horrific death, his gaze went back to you. 

“I see you,” Luke promised, his voice low. “And I’ll make everyone see you the way I do. I swear it.” 

You were starstruck. You couldn’t look away from him, from the determination etched into each detail of his face, the softness in his eyes directed wholly at you—the fact that he was here at all in the first place at an unholy hour just because you asked. 

Oh gods. You were in trouble. 

“It’s late.” You finally managed to break the spell that held you under. “We should go.” 

“Yeah.” Luke made no motion to move, still focused wholly on you. 

“Luke,” you whispered. 

You could have sworn his eyes moved down to your lips, but he was sitting up so quickly that you knew you must have imagined it. You cleared your throat as you followed suit, brushing the sand off your—his— jacket. 

“This was nice,” he said after a moment. “...Thanks for waking me up.” 

“Of course,” you said. “There’s… there’s no one else I would’ve wanted to share it with.” 

Luke smiled, and you didn’t think he’d ever looked more beautiful than he did now, awash in the silver moonlight. If you were braver, you would have taken his hand again. You would’ve done what the voice in your head desperately wanted to do—had wanted to do for the past two months.  

But you didn’t. 

“I guess it was worth nearly getting eaten, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, and he shrugged. “But most things are worth it when it comes to you.” 

You nearly melted right there, and it was a credit to your strength that you didn’t say anything horrifically stupid. Instead, you put on a smile, hoped he couldn’t see how much he was killing you, and started back up on the path. 

“C’mon,” you said. “Before we end up having to clean the entire camp for breaking curfew.” 

“Whatever you say,” he mused. 

-

You groaned as you slumped into your usual spot at the Hermes table. You heard Luke laugh, and you felt his eyes on you as you put your head in your arms.

“What’s got you so down?”

“I’ve been fifteen for three days and I already feel like an old woman,” you said. “Everything still hurts.”

“Capture the flag was meant to be a birthday gift,” Luke said wryly. “And we did win.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you grumbled. “I swear, some people went after me on purpose just because it was my birthday. I’ve got bruises all over.”

“You know, we have an infirmary for a reason.” 

“They’re battle wounds,” you said. You picked up your head just to take your goblet. “Lemonade. Actually, pink lemonade.” You took a sip, but even that didn’t make you feel better. You buried your head back in your arms with a rough sigh. “Signs of our victory.”

Luke huffed a laugh. “Sometimes I really don’t…”

He trailed off suddenly, and you heard a collective gasp go up at the table.

“What?” you asked halfheartedly. 

“You— you’re—” 

You didn’t know why he couldn’t finish his sentence. You picked your head up to see Luke’s face awash in golden light, his eyes wide. Everyone else at the Hermes cabin was just as awestruck, and Marisol fumbled around in her purse until she pulled out her compact. She opened her foundation, the mirror pointing at you, and you realized why.

A glowing, golden, translucent sickle with a few sheaths of wheat floated above your head. You frowned.

Before you had the chance to say anything, Luke was yelling your name and tackling you in a hug. You let out a grunt of surprise as you barely managed to brace yourself, and when he pulled away he was smiling wider than you’d ever seen.

“You’re claimed!” he exclaimed, his hands gripping your shoulders. “You— you’re finally claimed!”

“Demeter,” you said, almost absentmindedly. It still hadn’t quite hit you. 

“Demeter,” he repeated, nodding rapidly, that gigantic smile seeming like a permanent feature at this point. “I told you everyone would see you— I told you we would make them see you the way I do!”

The rest of the table was chattering away, and you could feel Chris patting you on the back and saying words that went in one ear and out the other. The rest of the pavilion was starting to catch word, and you could see a couple kids from a table on the opposite end standing up and craning to see. Maybe your new siblings. 

(You should be happy.)

Your new siblings. 

…Your new cabin.

You could still barely think, like there was static in your brain. Luke’s hands on your shoulders were the only thing grounding you. 

(You should be ecstatic.)

A year of tears, silent prayers, and apathetic resolution had finally come to a close, just days after your fifteenth. 

(Why are you not smiling?)

You’d been claimed. But you didn’t think you’d ever felt more lost. 

#also you may notice. that these include the flashbacks mentioned at the end of bleedin me dry. bc i enjoy hurting people #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #sadie writes

[enavstars]

More Cyberpunk au details + details of the RGB desings + earlier concept drawing

(Before that please let me know if you want more info on the au because I have a couple drawings planned but with school and stuff I can't draw much and Idk if I can stay motivated that long. So my next posts could be mostly au lore with maybe some sketches, tell me if you'd like that)

In general terms, to give the Cyberpunk aesthetic to all of their designs I try to avoid symmetry by adding belts or patterns to break it. And for the colors, I focused on darker hues and neon tones. This way, the designs have a “punk”/dystopian-ish vibe while representing the high-tech elements of their society (which is like Cyberpunk in a nutshell).

As for the young versions of RGB, each one has their own color palette: Kai's is Red and orange with shades of black; Nya's is Blue, pinkish red and light shades of gray; and Lloyd's is light Green and also dark blueish green. Kai and Nya get a few details (shoes, arm or jacket) of each other’s main color as a wink ;).

Kai's outfit is meant for moving around comfortably both in the city and outside, Nya's is like a mechanic uniform for tinkering, and Lloyd's is for running as fast as possible; he also has a puffy sleeve similar to Kai's (le wink again). All three of them have a letter of RGB in some part of their outfit and share a tech pattern, each positioned differently (Kai in his inside shirt, Lloyd in his sweatshirt and Nya in her leggins)

As for Kai's eye:

One day, when they were exploring around the danger zone of the outskirts of the city, Kai accidentally activated a trap set by one of the last survivors of the Outside that unexpectedly still lived there (a paranoid rancid sociopath). The violent trap had become infested with Red plants with time and made Kai get in contact with it too: it instantly dug its roots deep within his right eye socket and Kai was unable to pull it off. Since it was such a sensitive spot where the plant was sucking all the nutrients out of him, he was so weak that Nya had to slowly and painstakingly carry him back through the ruined suburbs to get help inside the city walls. After getting around the border control with the plant still stuck to Kai’s eye, all thanks to Echo’s help (who also carried the kid the rest of the way), they got to the doctor’s. Luckily, he was able to cure Kai, but he was forced to remove the affected area, which were his eye and part of the skin of his face; however, if he had waited any longer the plant's roots would have reached his brain and killed him.

Nya then started looking for a biomechanic while Kai rested with little Lloyd, who’d followed his sister all throughout the loaded trip back but could do nothing but keep her company due to his size. However, when the girl finally found one who agreed to make the prosthetic eye for them, a fellow demon named Ronin, he set them the condition to seek out a strange artifact for him as payment, giving them a total of eight years to find it. With no money and no choice, they were forced to accept, but Nya managed to get a picture of the prosthetic’s plans; this ensured that she’d be able to fix it and not depend on the guy too much, but four years later they were found out and their deadline was cut down to only another year.

In the end, Ronin will be Ronin, and the mysterious artifact was in fact a collectionist piece of

Garbage.

Apart from that incident though, as kids they don’t really spend that much time in the city, and they generally only come there to visit their friends/acquaintances and sell stuff Nya finds. For example, they do both of those things in Ed and Edna’s junkyard, where Nya trades her scraps for their more useful scraps while visiting their friend Jay. She and her siblings (who always need to stick together inside the city walls just in case) like telling stories about their adventures in the Outside to the oblivious inhabitants, so obviously Jay is no exception. The girl is very energetic and much more of a little unhinged rascal in this au, so her stories are usually really exciting and filled with funny acting for the little boy. Additionally, as they are both mechanics in the making, whenever the siblings come around his parent’s workshop, Nya and him show each other their latest creations and sometimes they even discuss how they could improve on their work.

But the one who most often talks to people, especially strangers, is Kai. Because even though they are feared as demons, the boy is much more chill and charismatic than his siblings, and is usually in charge of being the friendlier face (although he does like staring at the people who get scared of his dragon ears a little too hard hehe). In fact, they use that awkward fear to their own advantage: due to Lloyd’s much more obvious demon features (his ears are even pointier than the other two’s and his eyes are straight up red), he is often the distraction whenever they need to steal food, either in times of need or if they just wanna cause trouble. People just cannot stop staring nervously at the little boy, who is great at drawing the wrong kind of attention, and when the act is up, he’s so fast following his siblings that no one can ever catch him.

Overall, they don’t really give a single damn about society and think too many of them are just as parasitic as the plants in the Outside, so they don’t often bother as kids to get into the city. That, paired with the fact that they are just three tiny outcasts who somehow miraculously keep coming back from the “deadly” Outside, means that people in the city just tolerate and more or less respect them (out of being kinda spooked by them), so they tend to get away with their shenanigans without much repercussion.

But in the future, they do change their habits a little bit.

When it comes to their designs, they do keep the same purpose but with variations in their shapes. Kai still uses casual comfortable wear but his color palette changes a bit, with a more pinkish Red with blue highlights instead of orange, but he does keep the shades of black. His outfit now consists of a thin bodysuit cut at the chest and hips to make sort of a hexagonal fishnet pattern, trousers and boots, along with a ton of new accessories (more slutty in general).

Nya keeps the mechanic vibe but with more of the gray and blue colors and barely any red. She has huge trousers with bigger pockets and her tools attached under her belt, a sports bra (for the ladies ;)) and mech gloves. She keeps her goggles, which are a different color now.

Lloyd has a sports outfit similar to the previous one in the shorts and leggings. He keeps the puffy sleeve on his left arm, although it is now a standalone piece, and has bigger trainers. His color palette is black and white with neon/bright greens. He lost his arm in an accident with plants too: the affected area was on his upper arm so they had to remove the entire thing, and Jay made his prosthesis.

They all have more small details of their other siblings’ colors (for example Lloyd has the pins on his casual vest); also, and instead of having their respective RGB letters on a random part of their outfits they are now matching at the back of the three jackets. Some other details on them are the fire symbol in blue on Kai's bomber jacket and on Nya's military jacket, the label on the chest that reads "samurai", complete with its X on the arm sleeve.

Their more mature personalities make them live around more in the city, although practically nobody knows their true names still, while also not leaving behind the Outside or Echo (in fact, their expeditions tend to be longer now that they have more experience and overall strength and abilities).

Nya (still just known as “Blue”) actually works in her own workshop now, selling her works on her own. However, her stubborn, energetic and blunt personality has now matured into pure badass and she’s constantly looking for a fight, but nobody can touch her or at least seriously hurt her because she’s insanely strong.

Also, even if they do manage to actually harm her she has her brother Kai (“Red”) looking out for her, who can basically destroy anyone’s private life if they mess with any of their siblings through blackmail :). In fact, he’s usually seen hanging around in the Red district (they even mistake him for a prostitute sometimes lmao), which is where most of the juicy information is flung around, so he has no trouble getting sensitive information about anyone and anything in the city. In addition, he’s developed a calm and charismatic personality that lures people into their manipulative tactics to take advantage of virtually anyone he wants, but his temper can be frail sometimes, especially when his siblings are hurt in any way. But, when it comes to them, even though he is more protective of them as the older brother and can explode if they are treated badly, he still fully trusts them and their abilities and they all rely on and fiercely fight for each other like a team whenever necessary.

In contrast to his siblings, though, Lloyd tends to avoid conflict as much as he can: despite looking like a human neon sign with his jacket on, he always manages to scurry out of sight whenever he’s in trouble as the speedy, witty little monke he is. And the reason he gets caught up in so much drama is because he is extremely curious and, as they aren’t kids anymore, people now care about the demon trio’s meddling in their business quite a bit more.

In conclusion, as they grow, Kai, Nya and Lloyd become more intelligent and fleshed out in their own ways, and even though they still have no respect for society as a whole, they do keep some friends close to them. They love each other and Echo as the unique family they are, and always make sure they have each other’s backs no matter the situation.

Here is Kai's early design + scar (TW: gore)

#ninjago #ninjago cyberpunk au #sketch #ninjago kai #kai smith #ninjago nya #nya smith #ninjago lloyd #lloyd garmadon #rgb siblings

[barnesafterglow]

killer

summary: when you meet steve, you don't expect to fall in love, let alone share with him your deepest secret

pairing: pre-serum!steve rogers x vampire!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: honestly pretty soft smut (f receiving oral, unprotected sex, come eating but it's fine), biting (obviously), slightly sub steve, mention of suicidal ideation, me fixing canon bc i can

a/n: this is more plot/feelings than it is filthy smut but i love it anyways. i have 4 other prompts i'm cycling between so i'm hoping to have a couple more done over the course of this week. please reblog and comment if you enjoyed this, every one means a lot to me! (edit to say that while it didn’t inspire the fic, i definitely get killer by phoebe bridgers vibes hence the title)

join my kinktober taglist or follow @theafterglowlibrary to stay updated on my fics!

kinktober masterlist ─ main masterlist

You could smell him from blocks away; you always could. It was like every cell in your body was in tune with his. It had been that way since the day you met him. 

-

It was 1943, and you were in charge of taking care of Erskine’s newest candidate. You had seen a handful come and go, all of them eventually proving to be unworthy. But something about Steve Rogers was different. It wasn’t just the pure look of determination on his face the second he stepped into basic training. You could smell the purity rolling off of him in waves. This was a man who was good and true.

Erskine took your word for it; never once in all your years together had you lied to him. Not even when he cornered you in his lab one day - after 30 years of working together - asking why you hadn’t aged a day. You were honest with him, giving the most simple answer: you were a vampire. You had been since long before borders were drawn and humans turned on each other, and you would be until someone drove a stake through your heart. He was deeply interested, asking you questions and seeking the answers to common misconceptions. You were more than happy to share with him. He was one of the very few people you were certain was good.

But Steve Rogers, he really was unlike any person you had ever met before. Sweet, kind, humble. Too humble, in your opinion. The world had beaten him down, and while he would fight tooth and nail for it regardless, he neglected himself and his own worth. You were determined to help him see himself in a new light.

The first time you kissed him, you felt butterflies in your stomach; never in all your centuries had you felt such a thing for anyone. You barely knew him and yet somehow you had known him your whole life.

The first time you fucked him, he melted in your arms. He nearly cried with the overwhelming feeling and worked himself into an asthma attack. You laid with him - the both of you still bare and chilled under the blankets of your cot - rubbing circles into his back until he was calm enough to whisper three little words in your ear. You knew then that if your heart could beat, it would beat for him.

The first time you bit him, you were terrified.

Erskine had finally talked to Steve, told him his plan, and Steve readily agreed. Just as you both knew he would.

The night before, he trembled in your arms, showing you the fear he refused to let anyone else see.

“I know I would die for my country.” He was nothing if not proud of that. “A few months ago, I would have done it without question. Now, all I can think about is you.”

Tears welled in his eyes, as they did in yours. You kissed him softly and sweetly, sitting up with him, moving closer. Just like that, with your foreheads pressed together, you told him your secret.

“I can…I can bite you. Turn you. But I don’t know what effect that will have on the serum. I don’t know what you can survive.”

“I’ll survive anything to be with you.”

You wanted to protest, wanted to tell him that you weren’t worth the possibility of the unknown. But you knew your lover, and the look in his eyes spelled nothing but love and determination. 

Who were you to deny him anything?

The two of you were still bare, bodies pressed close in the confined space, and so it wasn’t hard to tilt his head to the left, exposing the beautiful, unmarked skin of his neck.

You licked it teasingly, tasting the salt on his skin and the beating of his pulse underneath. He shivered at the touch, and you knew he was both terrified and excited for what possibilities came next.

Breathing in the sweet smell of his blood, your fangs shone in the pale moonlight, and before he could blink, your teeth sank into Steve’s neck.

You moaned low, keeping him held against you for a handful of seconds. But his own moans were a symphony to your ears. He sung like the angels above he so closely resembled, and when you finally pulled back, you realized he had come all over your thigh. When his eyes finally fluttered open, the shallow breaths deeping out, it took him only moments to apologize.

“Oh god I’m so -” You shushed him before he could get the words out, kissing him like your life depended on it. When you pulled away, a streak of blood marred the beautiful pale skin just above his lips, and you ducked your head once more to taste it.

‘“How do you feel, my love?” you asked him, keeping your hands placed on his face so he wouldn’t try to look away from you.

“I liked it.” His whisper was so low you don’t think you would have heard it if not for your enhanced senses. “I want you to do it again.”

Your brow furrowed. “You only need one bite to turn.”

“I know that, but… I want more.” He swallowed hard, struggling to meet your eyes. “I just want more.”

You nodded knowingly. The thrill of a bite could be exhilarating. Erotic. That didn’t stop you from worrying about him.

“Steve…”

“Please, just give me this.”

And who were you to deny him anything?

Staring deep into his eyes, you caved and nodded. He tilted his neck again, but you took him by surprise when you pushed him down on his back and sunk your teeth into the slight swell of his chest. 

He moaned deeply, and you could feel his hardness against you again. In a split second, you were straddling him, rubbing your folds against his length, both of your moans trying to contain themselves to the canvas of the tent around you.

You sunk down onto him slowly - despite his slight stature, Steve Rogers was not small everywhere - until your pelvis was flush against his own and his hands gripped your hips so hard you were afraid the bones might shatter.

When you leaned down to kiss him, you nipped at his bottom lip as you pulled back, drawing the smallest drops of blood.

You started to ride him slowly, rolling your hips to get you both used to the feeling - Steve had gotten better about his breathing in the handful of times you had made love, but you were always so scared after that first time that you couldn’t help but start out easy.

After only a handful of minutes, your movements started to quicken and so did your mouth, Where before you had subdued yourself to playful nips, once he sunk deep into you, you allowed yourself to release some control.

Every slide down of your walls around his cock were enunciated with a bite along Steve’s soft skin. By the time you gained the strength to thrust up into you, he was covered in double crescent moon shapes. 

When you clenched around him, close to reaching your peak, you tilted his head to the right and left a twin mark on his neck. His sweet taste pushed you over the edge, and you came with him following right behind you.

And, oh, wasn’t that fantastic. He had never finished inside of you before, always afraid of - on the slight chance he wasn’t infertile - that the two of you would try to bring a baby into a world so unknown. But with that risk gone, you were euphoric with the feel of him coating your walls.

For a few more minutes, you stayed laying on top of him, giving kitten licks to any bites that were still bleeding. When you finally rolled off of him, you expected to feel around for a rag to clean the two of you up, but Steve surprised you by gently pushing you onto your back.

Timidly, he placed tender kisses down your body before settling between your thighs. He looked up at you, eyes boring into your own, and lowered himself to your core.

His tongue swept through your folds, nipping lightly at your clit, and he moaned into you at the taste of himself. He brought both hands - large, gorgeous, artist hands - and spread your lips even more, almost ravenous with the way he swirled his tongue through your mixed releases. 

With a harsh suck of your clit, you were falling over the edge again, and he lapped up every drop of you until there was none left.

He crawled up your body again, clearly exhausted, and curled into your side. He whispered a sweet goodnight to you, and was out almost immediately.

You stayed up all night, counting his breaths and making sure his heart continued to beat.

-

The next morning, Erskine took one look at the marks that could be seen through Steve’s white t-shirt, and ordered everyone but you and Howard Stark - whom Erskine insisted could be trusted with your secret - from the room. The three of you watched as Steve stripped his shirt and stepped into the Vita-Ray Chamber. Your eyes took into the sporadic bite marks across his body, and small smile tugged at your lips despite the pure terror that coursed through your body.

You trusted Erskine’s mind, of course you did, but this was Steve and the thought of something happening to him drove you to pure rage.

Nevertheless, the Chamber closed around him, and the room went silent except for the machine at work. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Chamber opened and through the steam… someone emerged.

He had the same face as your Stevie, but other than that he was like a stranger. Tall and muscled, though he had the same smooth, freckled skin. Skin that no longer wore your marks.

It was a strike to your heart, at first, but a second glance at him spelled one thing: he was healthy.

You couldn’t smell the sickness of his youth anymore, only the scent of a strong man, young and healthy. Still, underneath it all, was the smell of purity that was his and his alone.

He stepped out and his eyes immediately sought you out. And you knew then, even if he was no longer marked by you, he would still be forever yours.

-

It had been 66 years since you smelled Steve’s sweet scent. He told he loved you one last time before he crashed into the Atlantic and took your unbeaten heart with him to the bottom.

Unable to end your own life, you dedicated every year after to hunting HYDRA. You knew his sacrifice was not the end of their reign, and you tore them down brick by brick. You hoped the end of it was when you ripped Arnim Zola limb from limb and nearly did the same to Peggy Carter for trying to work with him.

You spent the rest of your time with Howard Stark, assisting him in his experiments and even befriending his son from a young age. You helped Tony through his parents’ deaths. A freak car accident, they said - which sounded suspicious to you at first, but after several years of digging into every possible avenue, it truly had just come down to bad brakes and an unlit road. Tony thanked you profusely, his guilt nearly overcoming him at the news because of his rocky relationship with his father, and he offered you his gratitude for making sure he knew the truth.

His gratitude was the reason he called you as soon as he heard the news about Steve at SHIELD. 

Steve, your lost love. Steve, the man you thought couldn’t possibly survive almost 70 years buried in ice despite whatever mixture of venom and serum swam through his veins. Steve, who was alive and only a plane ride away.

Suddenly, you were on a sidewalk outside a brownstone in Brooklyn. The kind of place he had told you he dreamed of having on nights when he was especially homesick.

Suddenly, you could inhale and smell the scent of Steve again.

Suddenly, you were knocking on the door, afraid and thrilled of what might come next.

kinktober taglist *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

@treatbuckywkisses @sgt-barnesveins @bucky-barmes @opheliastark @sweetascanbee @writing-for-marvel @sophiejay @christywantspizza @hi-sarahh @highlyintelligentblonde @jjbunny14 @buckysfavoritereader 

#steve rogers #steve fic #steve smut #steve rogers fic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #pre serum steve #pre serum!steve rogers x reader #pres serum!steve rogers #ww2 steve rogers #vampire!reader #steve rogers x vampire!reader #kinktober 22 #tiff's kinktober #tiff writes #killer

[orangeshinigami]

Mutuals only / Slow replies & low activity blog. Multiship / Multiverse / OC & Crossover friendly! Mun is 21+ so mature themes may be present, everything will be tagged accordingly though. Est. Nov. 2023.

Discord available upon request for plotting & rping purposes.

( Header credit: RIDLEEY / Icons credit: THE-CURSED-ICONS & MENDINGGASHES / icon border credit: TOSKASRPH & as of Jan. 2024 I started using a border made by POOHSOURCES )

Update March, 2024: Icon border / post divider / banners credit - CROWDITS

GUIDELINES / ABOUT

HEADCANONS !!

MAINS: @auburniivenus (ship exclusive) / @adversitybloomed (ship exclusive) / @mendinggashes / @glacialdeath / @apocalypta-secundus / @loyalhearts / @toomanydamnmuses / @geraniumplant / @manaborn / @xxj0kerxx / @ninguisinferna / @attroxx

Mobile friendly guidelines under the cut.

Hi there! First of all, thank you so much for taking the time to read these!!

You can call me Bibis, I’m 25 years old and roleplaying has been one of my hobbies for over ten years, I’ve been a part of the Bleach fandom for about that same amount of time too. However, I still haven’t finished reading the manga (I’m always working and when I finally have some free time I have no energy to do anything guys, help). But I’ll eventually finish it, I swear… Or I’ll at least watch the anime bc I’m super hyped about this revival. ANYWAYS, yes, this is just a heads up that I do know some things about the last arc of the manga but not everything. But don’t worry, depending on what we choose to write, I’ll do my reasearch!! <3

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Ichigo or Bleach obviously, also no icons / headers and stuff used here were made by me unless otherwise stated.

I work 44 hours a week (sometimes more) and I’m still finishing my university course, so my activity will be low, especially from monday to friday. Please understand that I might take a long time to reply – this doesn’t mean I’m not interested in writing with you / don’t like your character or anything, I’m really just super busy most of the time.

No godmodding please. You control your character and I control mine, thank you very much.

Plotting!! I love plotting SO MUCH and can get super excited over it and come up with 5415114 AU’s, hahaha. Seriously, if you have an idea about how our characters could interact or want to build a whole new AU for them, PLEASE do not hesitate to hmu!! 

Feel free to turn memes / asks into threads, just make sure to make a new post for it rather than just reblogging the answered ask.

My discord is available to mutuals upon request, we can plot or even rp through there too!! Given my busy schedule, it’s easier for me to be active and reply to stuff there.

Shipping can be super fun, but only if there is chemistry. So there has to be a lot of plotting and our characters need to interact a few times for me to consider shipping them!! Instant shipping / pre-established romantic relationships are not really my cup of tea. I won’t write romantic ships with minors, btw, please don’t insist. 

My main verse is set when Ichigo is around 18 years old and finishing up high school!! But if you wanna interact with older Ichigo, or have a plotting idea that would work best with the older version of him, do let me know!! Like I said before, I truly love plotting, so don’t be afraid to throw your ideas at me, I’ll most likely be just as excited as you are to discuss them.

Since I’m well over the age of 18, you might see NSFW themes (such as violence, drugs, sex) on this blog from time to time. I have no triggers and I may be a little forgetful when tagging that sort of thing. Please if you see anything that’s triggering to you that you believe I didn’t properly tag, send me a message and I’ll fix it right away. I want this to be a safe and fun enviroment not only for me but for my writing partners as well!!

That’s about it!! I’m super friendly ooc, I promise. So send me memes and questions whenever!! I’ll be happy to answer all of them. :]

#( ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆ ) pinned. #do not reblog pls <3

[talonslockau]

Fire and Ice - Chapter 22

Chapter 21 || Index || Chapter 23

Ever since the announcement of Windclan's fate, the Clan had been tense, waiting for an attack at any moment. Though patrols along the Shadowclan border had been thus far uneventful, everyone knew that could change at any moment. Nothing could relax the fear every cat was feeling, nor did anyone try.

Firepaw's routine remained for the most part unchanged, though Tinyfrost was accompanying him near constantly now. Because of it, he had had no opportunity to go visit Princess since their first meeting. As much as he desired to see his sister again, he knew better than to try sneaking off, especially while tensions were high. He didn't need to be in more trouble than he was already.

"So why have you been avoiding the other apprentices?" He blinked out of his thoughts as Tinyfrost spoke aloud. The two had been collecting fresh moss for the Shadowclan elders' bedding. "I thought you were friends with all of them."

The mere thought of the other apprentices sent his heart racing. "It's nothing. I've just been busy with all the hunting I have to do."

"Which means it's your fault." Tinyfrost observed, his icy blue eyes stoic as he regarded his apprentice. "If it wasn't, you wouldn't be reluctant to talk about it."

He looked away with a grimace. "You don't know that." He grumbled under his breath.

"I do now." His mentor's voice was as quiet as ever as he spoke. "You can't try and hide it from me, you know. I've seen you sitting by yourself during sunhigh, and I haven't seen you say a single word to them since the Shadowclanners arrived. I assume it has something to do with them."

For a moment, Firepaw was tempted to tell the other tom to leave it alone, that it wasn't his business. Yet they were stuck together until Bluestar decided that the danger of Shadowclan was past, and Tinyfrost could all too easily spend that foreseeable future needling him about it. Unfortunately, ignoring him wasn't a viable option.

"I couldn't stand them rubbing their success in my face." He muttered as he tore away another section of moss. "While I'm stuck taking care of every elder around, they're off enjoying hunting competitions and training and sleeping in." His fur rose as he thought about it. "They get to eat twice a day while I'm lucky if I get one meal to myself!"

He expected the other tom to mock him, much as everyone else had been doing, but to his surprise his mentor nodded sympathetically. "You've been working harder than most. And it's not fair." He blinked in surprise at the kind words. "You've shown a restraint most warriors would have trouble with, given the season."

Firepaw hesitated, unsure how to take the sudden praise. "I, uh, thank you." He finally managed, dipping his head to the older tom.

"But." Of course there was a but. "You can't just take your frustrations out on your friends. Yes, it isn't fair that you were punished when you did the same thing any warrior would have done. But lashing out at those that care for you won't help."

Truthfully, Firepaw already knew that. He'd known how wrong it was since the moment he had berated them. Yet despite all of that, he still found it hard to consider apologizing. If he did, he would have to listen to them bragging, day in and day out.

"If nothing else, the rift between you and them obviously isn't helping you." Tinyfrost continued as he began gathering up the collected moss. "I'd guess it's making you feel worse. Maybe fixing it would make you feel better for a change?"

The apprentice looked away from his mentor, not wanting the latter to see his grimace. "I don't need your sarcasm." Firepaw grumbled as he began collecting up his own moss. "I can handle it myself."

"Suit yourself." Tinyfrost replied simply to his apprentice's attitude. "If you want to mope around by yourself during your precious little free time, that's your prerogative. Just don't let it affect your performance." He could hear the other tom bundling up his moss. "Why don't you go take that bundle to Spottedleaf and Yellowfang? I'll take this to the Shadowclan elders."

Firepaw glanced over to him in surprise. "Are you sure? But Bluestar said-"

Tinyfrost waved him off. "It's fine. You're only returning to camp from here, and I'll be careful. I can take care of myself out here. Besides, don't you want to get this done faster, so you can hunt yourself something before moonhigh?"

Firepaw had to admit that the thought of getting to eat was far too tempting to turn down. "Alright. Stay safe." With that, he picked up his bundle and headed for the ravine.

The sun was getting low on the horizon as he entered camp; it wouldn't be long, he supposed, until the border patrols came back, and the other apprentices along with them. Thankfully, the camp was only guarded by a couple of warriors, and was otherwise empty at the moment.

The healer's den was getting dark as he entered, and only Yellowfang was inside. He supposed Spottedleaf was probably out gathering herbs for the coming war, preparing as much as she could like everyone else in camp was.

"Hello, Yellowfang." Firepaw greeted her as politely as he could, dropping his bundle by her paws. "Do you need me to change your bedding again?"

Her predictable scoff came as he spoke, as it had ever since he had been assigned to care for her. "Do you always smell dung wherever you go? I'm fine." She sniffed at the moss he had brought her. "I could use some mouse bile for the ticks on my back, though. The base of my tail itches something fierce!"

Firepaw hesitated. "Where do I find mouse bile?" He asked the old healer. He knew Spottedleaf sometimes collected the discarded organs from eaten freshkill, but he had no idea where she stored them.

"I'll get it." Yellowfang stretched out her front paws and made her way over to Spottedleaf's storage, clumsily kicking the moss alongside her. Firepaw looked on uncertainly as she extracted a patch of moss and pulled a small, round object out of Spottedleaf's storage and cut it open.

"Here." The old healer gestured at the moss as she limped back to her nest. "Just put the moss on the ticks with your paws. They'll be leaping off to get away from the stench." She snorted at that. "In a way, they're smarter than you for that."

He did his best to refrain from rolling his eyes as he picked up the moss with one claw. "You're going to hold that against me forever, aren't you?" He grumbled as he gently lowered the moss onto the base of her tail.

"Well, my leg is still broken because of you, so…" The healer's tail lashed against his paws. "I think I'm entitled to, yes."

Firepaw couldn't restrain himself from grimacing. "Yeah, you and everyone else in this camp." He muttered to himself.

The molly's ear twitched at his words. "You managed to anger every cat in camp? Even at my prime, I never accomplished that." Her voice was wry, almost reassuring, if he didn't know any better.

"I might as well have." He grumbled. "Half of them are pissed at me for attacking a healer, even though she stank like a fox. Half of them are still angry at me for being a former kittypet, and half of them are too busy enjoying themselves to bother themselves with their 'friend' struggling." His nose rankled at the thought of his friends gallivanting off while he was busy feeding a quarter of the Clan.

"That was three halves." Yellowfang observed. "Don't tell me you've gone so far as to recruit additional kittypets just to get them to hate you? Quite the impressive feat, if that's the case."

He huffed at her snarky response. "Whatever. Why do you care? You hate me as much as anyone else here."

The dark molly shrugged, dislodging the moss from her tail and forcing him to drag it back onto her spine. "I'm stuck here listening to you. I could sit in silence like a sullen kit, but that's rather boring, isn't it?" She snorted dismissively. "I have to say, I'm surprised such an aggressive kittypet has any friends in the Clan. They must be impressively brave, or naïve."

Firepaw growled at her insinuation. "I only attack trespassers, not Clanmates." He snapped. "Besides, didn't I already tell you? They're not really my friends anymore."

She flicked an ear at that. "Fine, then. What did you do to get them to hate you? Cover their nest in thorns? Pee in their freshkill? Get them assigned to elder duty for a quarter-moon? You know, normal apprentice things?" There was a pause, then she sighed. "Well, they used to be."

"Pee in their freshkill?" He shuddered at the thought. What a waste of food. "No. They were rubbing my face in the fact that they all managed to follow the code and win while I broke the code - completely on accident, while trying to follow it - and now I'm stuck taking care of every elder in the territory."

Yellowfang was quiet for a long moment. "Every apprentice breaks the code at some point. Some more than others." She sighed and glanced over her shoulder. "Move that mouse bile up, won't you? I can still feel a few ticks in my spine."

"Try telling them that." He grumbled, complying nonetheless. "Try telling the whole Clan that, really."

"It is our belief in the warrior code that makes us a Clan." Yellowfang murmured as she looked away again. "Without it, who are we? What are we?" Her voice wavered for a moment. "It is the job of the healer to guide the Clan when our leader will not."

Firepaw tilted his head in confusion. "I don't see what that has to do with anything."

She was silent for several long moments, and for a heartbeat he wondered if the healer had forgotten he was there. "There are some wounds not even a healer can mend, Firepaw. You should remember that." She sighed again. "Remember that where I did not."

"Some wounds…?" He glanced over his shoulder to where camp was. She couldn't possibly be suggesting that she couldn't be the one to talk to the others? Perhaps she meant that it had to be him?

"That's enough for now, Firepaw. I don't think any ticks will be bothering me for a while." Yellowfang shook off the moss, which landed with a wet slap on the dirt beside her. "I'm not that hungry, so I don't think you'll need to catch me dinner tonight. I'll share something with Spottedleaf."

"I- Alright, then." The young apprentice hesitated. "Are you sure you don't need anything else?"

"If I wanted something else, I'd just say it." The old molly snapped, evidently back to her usual bad mood. "Now leave me be. I don't need to listen to the inane ramblings of a moody apprentice."

He didn't need to be told twice. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." He mumbled, hurriedly making his way out of the den and into the camp clearing.

By now, most of the patrols had returned, and were sharing tongues with each other as they ate for the night. All of the apprentices were back, conversing over freshkill as they did every night.

Firepaw watched the five of them for a few moments. Both Tinyfrost and Yellowfang had at least insinuated that he ought to make things right with them. He would never have a better chance than this. If he didn't do it now…

He forced his paws to carry him across the dusty clearing, ignoring the conversations carrying on around him. As he approached, Ravenpaw was the first to look up, nudging Pepperpaw and Dewpaw beside him until all five of the apprentices saw him come to a stop in front of them.

"Firepaw? Do you need something?" Pepperpaw's ears were perked forward curiously, but he could tell by her squint that she was obviously distrustful of his intentions. He supposed he couldn't blame her.

"Look, I…" He took a deep breath, trying not to let his nerves get to him. "I wanted to apologize."

"For what?" Cinderpaw asked, before she was quickly shushed by Pepperpaw beside her.

"I messed up." Firepaw admitted, his tail dropping into the earth below. "I was angry, and I took it out on you guys instead."

"That you did." Pepperpaw murmured stoically. "You can't help how you feel. What matters is what you do with those feelings."

"I- I know." He dipped his head with a sigh. He remembered those words from the night the fox had entered the nursery; the night of the Gathering. "I handled it poorly and you didn't deserve it. I'm sorry."

From beside him, Graypaw shrugged. "We all get mad and make mistakes. I get it." He bit down on his squirrel. "At leasht you owned up to it."

Pepperpaw glanced at her brother with a frown. "That's true, but…"

Cinderpaw flicked her tail quickly at her sister's words. "Hey, as long as he promises not to do it again, what's the problem?"

"I won't." Firepaw spoke quickly, before Pepperpaw could respond. "I swear I've learned my lesson. It wasn't your fault, and I shouldn't have acted like it was." He hesitated, before adding, "I just want to make things right."

Pepperpaw sighed and looked down at her pigeon. "You have had a lot on your shoulders lately… Maybe we should have been more understanding." She admitted slowly. "I suppose that Cinderpaw and Graypaw are probably right."

"Besides, remember when Cinderpaw stole your rabbit fur ball and tore it up in front of you? You were mad at her for a moon!" Graypaw chuckled fondly at the memory. "Honestly, Firepaw's been doing everyone's share of the chores for the last half moon or so. We should really be thanking him, when you think about it."

"Graypaw…" Pepperpaw's tone was low, almost warning him.

"That fur ball was an accident! I didn't know it was close to falling apart like that." Cinderpaw huffed, interrupting her sister before she could say anything else.

"A-anyways, I just wanted to say sorry. I need to go catch something to eat before the night patrol leaves, so…" Firepaw started to slowly back away, all too familiar with how quickly conversation could devolve when Cinderpaw was involved.

"Nonsense!" Graypaw patted the ground beside him with his tail. "There's enough on this squirrel to share. C'mere."

Firepaw paused, his stomach growling at the thought of an easy meal for a change. "Are you sure? I don't want to intrude…"

"Nonsense." Graypaw nudged the squirrel slightly towards him. "You're forgiven, right? You won't be intruding on anything. Besides, I could use your help in an argument. See, Cinderpaw thinks that Shadowclan eats snakes, but I think they'd be too thin to get any meat off of."

"Obviously only the baby snakes would be too small to eat. Have you seen a full-grown adder? Those things are huge!" Cinderpaw interrupted, tail lashing already. "They already eat toads, so why not snakes?"

"They've got to be poisonous, though, right?" Graypaw turned to Firepaw as he sat down beside the other tom. "Have any of the Shadowclanners said anything to you about it?"

The ginger apprentice considered it, thinking back through his interactions with the elders and Yellowfang. "I don't think they have…" He admitted slowly. "I could ask them, but I don't know if they'd answer me, let alone honestly."

"I'm telling you that they do! One-eye said so!" Cinderpaw insisted, already forgetting her meal as her eyes glistened with the thought of winning an argument.

"And you believe everything One-eye says? She used to tell you your nose turned red when you lied." Graypaw chuffed dismissively. "You believed that one for three moons!"

Firepaw had to purr at the two bickering as he leaned down to take a bite of squirrel. He was glad he had made up with all of them, even if Pepperpaw and Ravenpaw were still eyeing him hesitantly. He had missed these conversations with all of them, though he hadn't been willing to admit it to even himself. It felt right to be sitting next to Graypaw and the rest of them now.

Now, all they needed was to deal with Shadowclan once and for all, and everything might turn out okay after all.

#talonslock #warrior cats #fanfic #wc #the prophecies begin #talonslock story #fire and ice #thunderclan #firepaw #tinyfrost #yellowfang #graypaw #pepperpaw #cinderpaw #ravenpaw

[inventors-fair]

Preferential Treatment: Partial Decree Commentary

Back again for the commentary! This week was such a blast, honestly. You all made killer designs, and while this is certainly not a contest I’ll run very often, it did give me lots of new ideas for other contests, so stay tuned. It is interesting that people heavily focused on the copying aspects, when I honestly wouldn’t even say that’s my absolute favorite part of magic. I’m curious to hear thought processes behind these designs, so if anyone wants to share how they came up with their idea, I would love to hear about it. Anyways, here’s Wonderwall.

The Tattered Timepiece by @dabudder

At first glance, this is an incredibly cool card. I love the idea of repeatedly taking extra turns but losing a bit of each one, essentially leaving you with nothing by the end of it. You have to use it very carefully, but the concept is cool. However... it runs into some logistical issues. First off, skipping your end phase also involves skipping your cleanup, which is not something black-border magic ever wants to get into, since “Until end of turn” effects would stick around, and damage wouldn’t be removed. In addition, There are cards that skip either untap, upkeep, or draw steps, but not all of them all at once. I think this design would be better serviced by looking at existing “skip step or phase” cards like Fatespinner, and picking some appropriate choices from among those. However, the logistics issues don’t detract from the fact that this is still as super cool card.

Absolute Decree by @nicolbolas96

One of our few non-blue cards this week (I was going to ask if I’m that easy to figure out, but I guess it is literally in my username). I do like flexibility with removal, and I do like political maneuvering, and this has a good amount of both of those! However, I just can’t see any situation in which your opponent ever lets you copy the spell. I understand that the intention was probably “Hey, if you let me copy it, I’ll blow up this other thing controlled by player 3”, but... I’m not sure there would be many people likely to agree with that when the original copy is pointing at one of their permanents. I’m not necessarily sure what the fix is, but this card relies on blowing up someone’s key piece, and then asking them nicely for a favor, which doesn’t seem like it will go the way you want it to 90% of the time.

Nadan, Dean of Imitation by @yd12k

Okay, so between the name, the art, and the flavor text, I’m a little confused. Is this supposed to be a different iteration of Naban, but was a typo? Is it Naban’s evil twin? A parody? I definitely appreciate the pandering to the judge, but I’m confused about who exactly this is supposed to represent. The ability is one that I’m honestly surprised we haven’t seen before, though it feels more at home on a mid-cost enchantment than a 2-mana legendary creature. There could still be lots of fun things to do with it, but I think the potential card advantage is way too much for this to be coming out of the command zone on turn two. However, bonus brownie points for playing to the audience.

Unseelie Meddling by @hiygamer

There’s a reason I have Mystic Reflection listed as my favorite blue card, and this plays in a lot of the same space. I do like the attempt to broaden it from just creatures, but as others have stated, this gets into some weirdness with auras that can make this “destroy target nonland permanent” in certain scenarios, which... yeah, that unfortunately needs some black to justify. Equally unfortunately, the workaround is clunky, so at least you stuck to your guns. Beyond that issue, I like this card, though I feel like 3 mana might be too expensive for something that doesn’t give you any nice ETB triggers, and only lasts for the turn. I think it could have either been cheaper or more permanent, though with the latter there’s obviously memory issues. Also, WOW that’s some dark art direction. I love it, reminds me of some of the older magic art.

Hysteric Laughter by @col-seaker-of-the-memiest-legion

It is interesting that we got so much Cipher this week, considering... I don’t actually care for it that much. Yes, I like instants and sorceries, and I love copying them, but Cipher always felt like there were too many moving parts for my liking. This one is pretty good at addressing some of my issues with it- it’s simple, effective, and easy to tack on to any creature without making them a huge magnet for removal. However, over time, that card advantage can really add up. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying this should cost 4 mana like Last Thoughts, but I’m not totally sure if 1 mana is the right place for this either, especially since an evasive one-drop into one of these is two cards right away, and that multiplies if you have more copies. Cipher as a Maestros mechanic is also interesting- obviously they like copying instants and sorceries, but it doesn’t seem to me that they would match with the skulking, cryptic flavor of Cipher. They seem pretty loud and proud. However, like I said before, you’ve done a good job of making me reconsider Cipher, so that in and of itself is a commendation.

Quell, the Living Storm by @helloijustreadyourpost

This card is a very interesting cross-section between Elemental tribal and spellslinger, which I don’t think is something we’ve seen before? The power buff not only makes it so that you can swing with these guys pretty hard, but also enables the casualty ability, which is some neat self-synergy. This guy clearly wants to be a commander, I’m just having a hard time picturing what you would want in the deck. Elementals obviously, but what kind of instants and sorceries? The red ones that make more temporary elementals, I guess? Don’t get me wrong, this is a cool card, and could definitely see print, but it’s a bit too linear for my tastes. There are some hints of Ball Lightning tribal in here, which could have been really cool if you doubled down on that a bit more? I dunno. However, big bonus points for being the first custom card designer ever to put “storm” in the name of a card that has nothing to do with Storm.

Mirageherd Matriarch by @pocketvikings

Noncreature/ small creature token payoff. Iiiiinteresting.... I like it. There’s some obvious parallels here between this and Poppet Stitcher/ Poppet Factory, but obviously it has a bit of a different intended use. I’m not totally sure I get the flavor of how an elephant turns Treasures and Clues into other elephants? Some flavor text definitely could have helped here. Also, the repeatable investigate does make for some nice creature sac fodder, but in a deck with literally any other token generation, it would never happen. Maybe it could be something like “if you didn’t create a token this turn”? Anyways, lots of cool shenanigans to be done with this, especially since there are some noncreature tokens you can make for pretty cheap rates, but I think it straddles the right power level.

Throk, Prismari Alumnus by @snugz

I had to do a double take at this card because I thought it was full hybrid for a second, which would have been a bit pie-breaky, but this is styled after the strixhaven cycle, so all good there. However, for future reference, those cards do use a gold frame to avoid confusion. Onto the mechanics- mass granting your spells Cipher for just 4 mana seems very very strong. Cipher cards, though a bit overly cautious, were costed as much more expensive than their non-Cipher counterparts, because you get to repeat them several times without having to spend cards each time. Add that to the natural evasion granted by ciphering cards, and you have one heck of a powerhouse for 4 mana. It’s still a really cool idea, but it needs some limits on it to make it work nicer. Maybe the first spell each turn has Cipher? Or you pay N as you cast it to gain Cipher? There’s options here, but I do think it needs to be toned down a bit.

Well of Discordance by @hypexion

This card went through some pretty major iterations in the Discord, and there were some solid ideas throughout the process. I do like where this card started. However, this would just be an absolute mess of triggers- essentially, untapping with this would turn a commander game into a 40+ minute game of solitaire as you debate whether or not you have enough mana to continue the cascade chain or not. My issue isn’t the power level, per se- I think as a 6-mana legendary artifact that costs an extra one per spell, it’s in a good spot. I just think there’s too much decision paralysis that comes along with it. Additionally, I can also see this confusing some players who think there’s a period between seeing what you get off the cascade trigger and casting it. That happens immediately, though, so you have to grant cascade blindly. All in all, it’s a neat card, but very complex and not fun to play against.

Gossamer Twin by @nine-effing-hells

“Clone with downside” is always a bit of a fun concept to play around with, though it’s hard to beat Phantasmal Image. Making it more vulnerable to damage but not necessarily to spot removal is a cool take on it, and I do like the flavor of some sort of miniature thread-like copy of something much larger. However, there’s not much to it beyond that. The card feels very plain, and not too exciting. Maybe if it overlaid flying in addition to the abilities of the copied creature? I think flavor text helps sell this too, since Gossamer twin is such a cool, evocative name that is begging for some contextualization. It’s a clever card, and definitely one that tickles my fancy, but I don’t see myself having fun playing this one.

The Bolstering Matrix by @dimestoretajic

That sure is an effect that’s a dream come true for anyone who likes cloning and copying. Obviously, I love this effect. It’s great, and I would love to build around it. However, it’s hard not to compare this to my main man Riku of Two Reflections. For the same mana value, you get the same effect- except you have to pay two mana every time you use it, and its stapled onto a fragile 2/2 instead of a harder-to-remove enchantment. This definitely needs to either be more expensive (in which case you’ll have likely played all your good creatures before this comes down) or have some sort of other limitation (creature type? Mana value? Paying mana like Riku?). The second ability is the cherry on top- I do like that one quite a bit better, and it’s a nice complement to the other one. However, the power level of this needs to be adjusted before I can truly love it.

Bankshot Technique by @deg99

You said “Hypothetical 2-headed Giant set on Strixhaven themed around Mage Tower”, and I fell in love. You went into my brain and pulled out a set that I literally want more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. And the card is neat! It’s just not the best proof-of-concept for this amazing set idea. Moving counters is solid- feels like a Quandrix-y thing to do, and it’s established as a possible UG hybrid effect (even though this is also a gold card like the Cipher legend above), and the team reference is neat. I do wonder if there’s a way to clean it up, but that’s not my main problem. I just don’t see demonstrate working in a 2HG set, since so many people would assume they can give their teammate a copy to get two copies themselves. It just works against the concept of 2HG, which is unfortunate, cause the concept is cool. Also, this seems like a rough card to have 3 copies on the stack of- counters would just get madly shuffled around and doubled like crazy, and math would be hard. The name even implies it wants to be an instant-speed combat trick, but that would make it even more painfully complex, so I don’t know what direction this card is pulling in.

Derivative Subversion by @reaperfromtheabyss

...How is this not a card again? Copying and countering spells are costed pretty much the same, and making it modal just makes sense. The entwine is a nice touch. I will say that, even though we can copy permanent spells now, not every copy spell has to be able to do that, and this card feels like it should just copy instants/sorceries. It would ruin the symmetry with the counter half, but still. Also, I’m not sure what the name is getting at? Like, those are just fancy words for “copy” and “interfere with”, so I get how they match up to the modes, but I don’t get what it means in-world. Flavor text? AD? Something to give more context, even if it’s “snarky blue mage quote”.

The Halls of Maurer Estate by @wolkemesser

So this card is cool, but... it’s red. Red red red, all the way. Attack trigger? Red. Temporary tokens? Red. I’m not feeling the esper here at all, except maybe from the name and art. Speaking of which- the “haunted mirror” thing is cool as hell, and I wish the card leaned into that more mechanically, because wow, that’s such a neat idea for a card. I do wonder though, was this card intended to copy *every* attacking creature? As is, you not only double your own board when you attack, but (apart from corner cases) you get a 1:1 copy to block every single creature coming at you. That makes this a HUGE value card for ETB/value decks, while also being a nigh-impassable pillowfort, unless the opponent has huge tramplers or straight unblockable stuff. I do like where you were going with this card, but the concept needed some adjustments.

Chiwit, the Living Leyline by @i-am-the-one-who-wololoes​

I’ll admit, this is definitely a different direction from most of the cards this week, and I like where it starts. Rewarding you for manipulating your mana generators to individually produce multiple mana would make for a super cool deck. However, I wish it had a more exciting reward than “draw a card”. Also, this gets really fuzzy when you look at the limitations. What counts as a single source? Is Dawn’s Reflection separate from the land it enchants? What is the “source” of mana? (Hint: it’s not the obvious answer)? What’s the difference between Nyxbloom Ancient and Caged Sun? These questions all have answers, but they aren’t exactly intuitive. I understand wanting to be inclusive of ritual spells, but there’s a reason most effects are phrased with regards to “tapping permanents for mana”. This is such a cool idea, too, it just lost some stuff on the execution.

That’s that for this week! Have fun with the current contest, and I’ll see you all again soon!

~judge @naban-dean-of-irritation​

#mtg #magic the gathering #custom Magic card #Inventor's Fair #partial decree #commentary

[shera-dnd]

Here it is! My second Genshin Impact fic, but the first one since I actually started playing the game.

And this is also EiMiko, what a coincidence lol

Anyways who wants to watch Raiden Shogun try to play wingman for her useless lesbian archon?

if you'd like a fic written by me or just want to help me pay the bills, consider donating to my ko-fi

It was a peaceful night, as my Archon had ordained, and not a single storm cloud threatened the clear horizon. Not even the ones that once protected our borders. 

Oh, how things had changed since her return to the mortal world.

It was this change that brought me to the Grand Narukami Shrine that night. Home to a woman I had avoided for five hundred years, but who I now sought out. 

When I arrived she was the last priestess left, sitting down by the Sacred Sakura, and reading through a manuscript. 

“Well well,” Guuji Yae greeted as she caught sight of me, “what brings the almighty shog--” her eyes met mine and she paused, “oh, it’s you. Hello, little puppet.”

There was spite in her voice. 

I’m certain my Archon would have been heartbroken had she been the one to hear that, but I had no heart to break.

“I apologize if I have disappointed you, Guuji Yae,” I replied evenly.

“Trust me, you’re not the one I’m disappointed with,” she answered, putting the manuscript aside and rising to her feet, “I’d assume that after all those centuries, Ei would at least come talk to me herself, instead of sending her little toy soldier to do it for her.”

A fair assumption, but a wrong one.

“I have come here of my own volition,” I informed, “our Archon does not know about this meeting.”

“Oh?” She inquired, seeming far more interested in me now, “I didn’t know you could keep secrets from her, little puppet.”

“If it is to serve my purpose, then I’m certain our Archon will not mind,” this was a lie. I knew my Archon would not take kindly to this secret, but it was a small price to pay for the pursuit of my purpose.

“I fail to see how this late night rendezvous will serve Ei’s eternity,” she spoke, not taking me seriously in the slightest, though I already expected that, “unless your plan is to seduce me in the name of her eternal excellency.”

Her assumption was - unfortunately - not too far off the mark. 

Confirming her suspicions would only result in further mockery, and a waste of this precious opportunity, so a new approach proved necessary.

“Guuji Yae,” I called, “do you know why I avoided you for those five hundred years?”

“Afraid you’d be charmed by my good looks?” She teased, but to no avail.

“You were the greatest enemy of eternity,” I declared, without a shadow of doubt in my mind, “your very presence posed a threat to the Archon’s will. If you were allowed to speak to her, then she would certainly have crumbled.”

She smirked at that, and I could detect a hint of cruelty in her eyes, “and yet here we are. Eternity has changed, and so has Ei. So much for giving me the cold shoulder for five hundred years.”

“Yes… you’re right,” I hesitated, something I had not done even before the Archon herself, “and without eternity to protect, I must focus on my secondary directive.”

“Oh? And what would that be?” She asked, though she knew the answer.

“This body exists to serve the Archon,” I stated plainly.

That got a giggle out of her, “I fail to see what that has to do with me.”

Ah. Feigning ignorance. The Archon had once warned me that she was fond of that trick.

“I must make my archon happy,” I said as bluntly as possible, “bringing you two together is the simplest way to achieve that goal.”

The giggle turned into a hearty laugh, as if my statement was somehow the funniest thing she had ever heard.

“It’s cute that you think anything between us is simple,” she mocked.

“She obviously has feelings for you, and you know as much,” I asserted, “you have feelings for her, and yet she does not know that. Fixing this should be simple.”

That earned me a glare. 

She did not enjoy having her feelings exposed.

“Let’s assume that you’re right,” Yae argued, beginning to walk in circles around me, “even if I was deeply in love with our dear sweet Ei, am I supposed to ignore the past few centuries? Just let go of all my grievances in the name of the Almighty Narukami Ogosho?”

Of course… 

I knew this hurdle would come up sooner or later. 

No matter. 

I will play the role of the diplomat if I must.

“The Archon’s happiness is my single priority,” I reiterated, “so if I must first guarantee your happiness, Guuji Yae, then I shall do so. What can I do to make up for the centuries we’ve spent avoiding you?”

She paused in front of me, and there was that smirk again, cruel.

“Do you know why I never liked you, puppet?” She asked.

“I fail to see how--”

“It’s because you’re not fun,” she interrupted, a single finger running up my neck until she held me by the chin, “you don’t squirm.”

There must have been a flaw in some internal mechanism, because in that moment I froze in place, my higher functions held hostage by the Guuji’s touch. 

I understood then how she held such power over even my almighty Archon.

“But I guess if even eternity can change, so can you,” she mused, letting go of me without a warning, “very well. If you play your role correctly, then I shall play mine.”

It took me far longer than I would have liked to recover from her tricks, but I tried not to let my frustration show.

“What would you have me do?” I asked her, knowing full well what would be required.

“Why to betray the trust of your beloved Archon, of course.”

~~~

“My Archon,” I called, “there’s a matter that requires your full attention.”

“Very well,” Ei’s voice called back, “allow me to take over.”

I closed my eyes, and the Archon opened them again. 

And the first thing to greet her was the amused gaze of her priestess.

“Miko!” She exclaimed, stumbling back in surprise, “what are you doing here in--”

She looked around and saw that they were standing on the bridge at the center of Inazuma City, Miko was holding two dangos in hand, and she was wearing one of her fanciest kimonos.

“My my, what happened to your composure, your excellency?” Miko teased, “I know it’s your first date in half a millenia, but you wouldn’t want your loyal followers to see you fumbling like a teenage girl.”

“Date!?” She nearly screeched, “Miko, what did you do to the puppet!?”

Miko giggled, “oh, I’m flattered that you think I could manipulate your little toy, but she came to me of her own volition.”

“What?” Ei asked, completely befuddled, “Shogun! Explain yourself!”

“Now now, why don’t you let that poor thing get some rest and focus on our date?” Miko asked, offering her one of the dangos she held, “come now, we even got you your favorite.”

The Archon glared, eyes darting between the dango and Miko, before she relented and accepted her fate.

“Very well,” she sighed, taking her sweets, “but you owe me an explanation.”

“Of course,” she assured her, taking a bite from her dango, “but do spare the puppet. She was only doing her part.”

#genshin impact #gi #eimiko #raiden ei #raiden shogun #yae miko #fanfic

[forerussake]

rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips.

i was tagged by the wonderful @thedaughterofshadows tnx!!! <3

i’m tagging: @aredhel-of-doylkien @scaredysap @psychic-waffles @phantomhydeoftheopera @youngks-smile @cute-rocks @stupid-lemon-eater @pangzi @enjaami @omaenanimonoda @lynne-monstr @morifiinwe @elenothar if you feel like it. idk if yall all write xD

unfortunately mine is also going to be very boring, bc the file names of my WIP files are generally just the fandom name + character name + WIP or sth along those lines. also my WIP files (several ones for different fandoms) sadly contain many things I started such a long time ago that i do not think I will ever go back to them, for the simple reason that my writing has evolved and the styles would not fit together anymore, but here goes nothing :D putting it under a read more bc it got long...

1. DMBJ gnc Wu Xie fic : pretty much what it says on the tin. post-tltr wu xie exploring some gender stuff he wasn’t ready for before

2. Cheng Xinyan fic : Guardian, obviously. This one is set after the scene where sw gets soaked kneeling in the rain to get the annoying doctor to fix zyl’s eyes. sw goes to see his old uni buddy afterwards bc he needs some tlc. the whole thing is an exploration of their relationship and shared history, as well as sw’s emotional state in the present. 

3. Guardian fic - A hand within a hand (holding light) : i’m working on chapter 6 atm. fic is an exploration of various oc povs of sw throughout the guardian timeline. the current chapter follows my oc chen anjing, who is a dixingren single mother living in haixing with her young son, who both have a history with hei pao shi that takes a lot of effort to get past. 

4. Student Shen Wei fic : this one might get scrapped bc the intended plot is very similar to what i ended up doing in chapter 4 of the fic above this one, only with prof. Zhou in place of my oc :/

5. MDZS murder mystery : i have every intention of getting to this one one day but damn if it isn’t too complicated for me. it’s a murder mystery fic surrounding the death of a young boy in a village on the border between lanling and qinghe. lan xichen, jiang cheng and a bunch of ocs set out to solve the murder, and in the process they unearth a bunch of lxc’s old trauma he thought he’d worked through. the whole thing is told in flashback, from the post-canon perspective of nie huaisang who is the only one still alive who knows what actually happened those days and what lxc and jc did not manage to figure out.

6. SHL modern au : a ballet/dancer au of word of honour. not much to say about it honestly.

7. Immovable rock x desert dust fic : QZGS fic also known as the immovable rock amnesia fic. tells a story about a weird forest, an eldritch being with immense power, and the avatars who get caught in the web of fate.

8. Life Extinguisher fic : QZGS fic, about what would happen if someone devised a weapon that could fry LE’s mechanical box in battle. so basically LE getting electrocuted. great fun xD

9. Vaccaria x Troubling rain fic : an exploration of vaccaria’s power as the magician and the reason he wears his eyepatch. (hint: there’s chaos in his soul that only good pk can calm)

10. Shishen bond fic : YYM-DOE fic, explores the nature of the shishen bond, and what it actually entails to give a spirit guardian an order, especially one they do not want to follow. set post-canon, focuses on snow hound’s recovery after the serpent battle.

11. Tryptich WIP : YYM-DOE fic, also known as the Metaphorical Serpent Modern AU. it’s a modern au centred around killing stone. the basic premise is that the serpent of the movie is not a real entity but rather a metaphor for our personal demons. it’s a very heavy story about the mental health of all its characters that loosely follows canon, in which qingming is not a yin yang master but a psychiatrist, and the shishen are not qingming’s spirit guardians but his patients.

12. YYM fanfic - what’s in a name? : fic exploring the meaning behind the various shishen’s names.

13. LotR the disadvantages of kingship : Thranduil takes up the crown after his father’s death, in the middle of a raging war. this one is so old, it’s probably the first fic i ever started writing, because it literally came to me in a dream when i was 13, and it never got finished. bc i was 13.

14. the time before time : a Silm fanfic that chronicles (pun intended) the time before time. from the birth of the ainur in the timeless halls up until the creation of arda. probably the second fic i ever tried to write. didn’t go anywhere even though i had like 11 chapters planned.

15. Feanor wip : about fëanor’s mental state after the burning of the ships

16. ecthelion wip : about the crossing of the ice, the founding of gondolin, and how ecthelion became the lord of the fountain.

17. And miles to go (before i sleep) : fic about finarfin’s return. i would love to finish this bc it was important to me, but i cannot say for sure i ever will.

18. celebrimbor wip : about celebrimbor disowning (i guess) his father after doriath.

19. fingolfin wip : from the start of dagor bragollach until his duel with and death at the hands of morgoth, told from both his and fingon’s perspective.

#tagged #writing #my writing

[taviokapudding]

Who wants local Dallas, TX tea?

Btw when I give my tangent related thoughts and not summarizes/calls of action/recap of the local tea verbatim, I will go in italics and tiny font like this

A couple weeks ago unfortunately there was a shooting at the State Fair and obviously yes it's hurt attendance since. Well about 4 days ago the numbers of how much the state of TX sends tax payer money to Israel dropped- that lead to a rumor and quiet boycott by locals

Not wanting to attend a partially tax payer funded large event because

the money not being used to implement security measures to match the "no licenses necessary to carry for all" gun rule IS stupid dangerous and

more people are turning anti gun- pro regulation/ gun ban because even state events aren't safe as once promised and promoted

Well the tea is that both Trumpets and Joeys hard-core Trump/MAGA Republicans and Democrats/Biden stans btw are discussing not trusting the TX government more than usual because the funding for Isreal looks too similar to the yearly funding put aside for updating the grid.

Normally I would dismiss conspiracy theories and rumors like this but when both those camps start talking to each other and agreeing on disliking the same people, you better listen because they may be using their bundle of worms working the upstairs for once, bless their hearts.

Earlier this year our unkept and fungus filled big toe nail of a person Atorney General should've been impeached for a lot of strongly backed and evidence heavy reasons with the big one being misusing tax payer funds for personal spending. But despite the overwhelming evidence, the GOP majority TX gov voted the equivalent of *air quotes* "nah, we don't give a fuck" not guilty- indirectly admitting to the whole state that they all use tax payer funds for reasons none of us are told about. If Ken Paxton can get away with installing a kitchen counter top for his ex wife and paying his mistress turned girl friend to not snitch about stuff he's doing, what else could the TX gov be lying about and for how long have they been doing so when it comes to using tax payer dollars? It's concerningly convenient the funding for Isreal is almost the same as the grid funding knowing ERCOT has sent multiple power outage warnings and alerts for this past summer and the upcoming winter. Also this all happening when apparently the TX gov has extra funding from charging absurdly high property taxes last year - I wish a very "the tree won't miss next time" to Greg Abbott in particular and a very get fucked to the TX GOP who seemed a little too happy about it

Now as local, I understand if folks quietly boycott by not going to the Fair since openly boycotting Israel in public is actually illegal here, it's why I've been careful with my digital footprint in how I share info on tiktok or opt out for safety, both are valid; if the rumor is true, the TX GOP are going to regret arming the masses without gun license documentation. Across party lines everyone is still mad about the Winter Storm of 2021 that killed and disabled a lot of Texans that too this day the state actively underestimated to not alert the rest of the US or World- if tax payer money isn't used to keep tax payers safe, they're going to snap at the people who lied and not each other. And I won't blame Texans when the time comes because over $600 on property taxes this year when all we did is start installing a new fence (it's not even done btw) and nothing else is ridiculous when all I want is for the local library, food kitchen, and school district to get funded properly instead of war crimes at our southern border and overseas. A $100 jump every year for no reason was, bad but citing an unfinished fence this year as an improvement to an unchanged property since 2014 when we had to fix roof damage just makes my blood boil

So as the tea server I want to make one thing clear:

I strongly encourage and endorse everyone to support the local vendors who are at the State Fair this year- directly do so by using their online and physical locations that aren't at Fair Park. I cannot stress this enough, support the local businesses because this year is going to be a bad year. I beg of you don't let the state get a cut when you can regardless of the solidarity, anger, or fear. The City of Dallas & Texas in general will make enough with the upcoming football games at the cotton bowl- focus on supporting local when given the opportunity if you are planning to attend for said games.

And if you are/will be performing/vending at the State Fair of Texas this year (2023)

SET UP DONATIONS/TIPPING

STREAM/POST ON YOUTUBE AND TIKTOK

HAVE AN ONLINE STORE/TIPPING/DONATIONS SET UP

Because yeah, assume you will be getting the same if not lower than 2021 revenue- Texans got plenty of good reasons and rumors to not support the Fair. And we all know word gets around quickly- folks aren't gonna change their minds when they're fed up/in solidarity. And non Texan Americans & tourists will absolutely be on board with giving a silent middle finger to the TX government if given the opportunity.

#mun post #texas #tea time #us politics #tx politics #rumors #local rumors #dallas #anyways if anybody wants to fire their blanks by the garland/mesquite to help lower property values #you'd be doing a huge public favor to all the young families and senior citizens in the area #just p l e a s e dont hurt anybody #im still pissed about the fence thing because what do you mean yearly repairs raises the value if we haven't done any in over 10 years? huH

[alyjojo]

Next Major Life Change 🐛 September 2023 - Aries

What It Is: Vast Vistas 🌅, The Star & 4 Wands

This is amazing energy, and it mirrors the North Node in your sign perfectly. Let’s say you’ve been operating inside of a box, maybe it was a spacious box, plenty to do. At this point, you’ve found your way outside of the box to only see that there’s a whole WORLD 🌎 of potential beyond the box. That’s what Vast Vistas is for you, wherever this box is in your world, it’s being removed and you can now see endless paths and limitless potential. So many activities! The Star & 4 Wands could be talking about moving homes for some of you, maybe it’s the place of your dreams, or maybe it’s due to work, but whatever this is - it’s a competitive environment and you’re going to come out on top. Because obviously, you’re Aries 💪 Whether it’s the housing market, a better community, a better job even, things are going to go your way, and you’re expanding far beyond what you’ve known previously. Some of you are just realizing what your dreams are, new dreams, new things to work towards, save up for, plan for, etc.

Why It’s Happening: 6 Cups, 7 Swords rev, 9 Swords

You’ve had a lot of issues in the past, you could be receiving a confession of sorts, or just admitting to yourself/Spirit that you’ve had a lot of worries, stress in returning to something you’ve already left behind. Could be a home, a lover, a job, a BOX 📦, whatever it is, you have no desire to go backwards and “fix” things, you just want to leave it behind. It’s possible that past people are trying to return to you, and you’re like no. You’ve moved past this, you’re beyond this box, and others can stay inside of it if they choose, it served you while you were in it. Something like that. That could apply to a whole neighborhood too. Something you once did/had/wanted/were. But it’s like once your mind expands beyond the borders of people and things, the box, around you…you can’t shove them back in where they were. There is no going back in this case, whatever it is, but it’s good.

Advice: The Fool & 10 Pentacles

Your energy, The Fool, being excited to rush into some amazing new thing, hobby, job, opportunity. You’re getting over the past and any unresolved pieces of things that were lingering in your energy, goodbye! 10 Pentacles is huge, you’re going from new energy to maximum life expectancy here, “hey do you want to go out on a date?” directly to “let’s get married and build a legacy together”, it’s that fast of a decision, and it’s your advice 😆. Not necessarily love related, could be finding a new job, moving to a new neighborhood, buying a house, that’s what I’m getting the most. Could be love too, possibly getting engaged. No one can pull off the things you do, and you’re even expected to flex a little as you overcome anything that’s ever held you back. If it’s a house, it’s an upgrade. If it’s a job, you could go from a peon to the head honcho very quickly, or that’s what you’re determined to find/do. 8 Wands being the point of the reading is FAST action, and that’s exactly what you’re doing. These can also be messages, when you get the call to action, or the information you’ve needed to hear, that’s it, you’re going for it, and not looking back 💯

#Aries tarot reading #next major life change #September 2023 #Aries #tarot

[autolovecraft]

An eye for an eye!

Over the door, however, the high, slit-like transom in the brick facade gave promise of possible enlargement to a diligent worker; hence upon this his eyes long rested as he racked his brains for means to reach it. He was a bachelor, wholly without relatives. The pile of tools soon reached, and a hammer and chisel selected, Birch returned over the coffins to the door. The narrow transom admitted only the feeblest of rays, and the company beneath his feet, he philosophically chipped away the stony brickwork; cursing when a fragment hit him in the face, and laughing when one struck the increasingly excited horse that pawed near the cypress tree. Sawyer died of a malignant fever. Steeled by old ordeals in dissecting rooms, the doctor entered and looked about, stifling the nausea of mind and body that everything in sight and smell induced. An eye for an eye! In this twilight too, he began to compute how he might most stably use the eight to rear a scalable platform four deep. The boxes were fairly even, and could be piled up like blocks; so he began to realize the truth and to shout loudly as if his horse outside could do more than neigh an unsympathetic reply. Perhaps he screamed.

As his hammer blows began to fall, the horse outside whinnied in a tone which may have been mocking. Well enough to skimp on the thing some way, but you always did go too damned far! It may have been fear mixed with a queer belated sort of remorse for bygone crudities. For the long-neglected latch was obviously broken, leaving the careless undertaker trapped in the vault, a victim of his own oversight. Dusk fell and found Birch still toiling.

There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb, and the overhead ventilation funnel virtually none at all; so that he was wise in so doing. The borders of the space were entirely of brick, and there seemed little doubt but that he could shortly chisel away enough to allow his body to pass. When he perceived that the latch was hopelessly unyielding, at least in a city; and even Peck Valley would have shuddered a bit had it known the easy ethics of its mortuary artist in such debatable matters as the ownership of costly laying-out apparel invisible beneath the casket's lid, and the coffin niches on the sides and rear—which Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door. Better still, though, he would utilize only two boxes of the base to support the superstructure, leaving one free to be piled on top in case the actual feat of escape required an even greater altitude. The thing must have happened at about three-thirty in the afternoon. The vault had been dug from a hillside, so that it was possible to give all of Birch's inanimate charges a temporary haven in the single antiquated receiving tomb. He had, it seems, planned in vain when choosing the stoutest coffin for the platform; for no sooner was his full bulk again upon it than the rotting lid gave way, jouncing him two feet down on a surface which even he did not care to imagine.

God, what a rage! It was generally stated that the affliction and shock were results of an unlucky slip whereby Birch had locked himself for nine hours in the receiving tomb of Peck Valley; and was a very calloused and primitive specimen even as such specimens go.

The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. He was merely crass of fiber and function—thoughtless, careless, and liquorish, as his easily avoidable accident proves, and without that modicum of imagination which holds the average citizen within certain limits fixed by taste. God, what a rage!

In this funereal twilight he rattled the rusty handles, pushed at the iron panels, and wondered why the massive portal had grown so suddenly recalcitrant. That he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things. Undisturbed by oppressive reflections on the time, the place, and the degree of dignity to be maintained in posing and adapting the unseen members of lifeless tenants to containers not always calculated with sublimest accuracy. Birch in those days was insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the right grave. Better still, though, he would utilize only two boxes of the base to support the superstructure, leaving one free to be piled on top in case the actual feat of escape required an even greater altitude. Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago. The tower at length finished, and his aching arms rested by a pause during which he sat on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. His day's work was sadly interrupted, and unless chance presently brought some rambler hither, he might have to remain all night or longer. He could not walk, it appeared, and the coffin niches on the sides and rear—which Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door.

His frightened horse had gone home, but his frightened wits never quite did that. The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. I live.

[casspurrjoybell-17]

HEART'S REDEMPTION - CHAPTER 17

*Warning: Adult Content*

Rockbridge, Alaska, is barely a town. 

Located northwest of Fairbanks, it lies alongside a small river. 

There is a gas station, a general store, a post office, a rail yard, a couple of churches and graveyards and not much else. 

As they pass it’s borders, a sign informs them that the population is 324. 

If what Ian Foley’s contact told him was true, then a good percentage of that number are Shifters.

Following the direction he had been given, Ian drives a few more miles past it’s far edge before turning down an unpaved road marked only with a stack of caribou antlers, arranged in a macabre sculpture. 

He followers this dirt track for about three miles through a wild country of scrubby meadow, groves of aspens and forest of slender spruce. 

Rounding the bend at the base of a hill, their destination comes to view. 

It’s a group of small cabins clustered loosely around a larger lodge-like structure, all spread out along the edge of a small, natural lake.

Ian Foley’s contact, Ms Inez Walker, told him that her Clan manages this place. 

It’s a hunting lodge, where people come from all over and pay money to be taken on guided tours. 

Ian wishes it was somewhere else but he supposes business options are limited this far into the middle of nowhere. 

He parks his truck in front of the lodge, alongside a few other vehicles, in a broad, level area of hard, packed earth.

Getting out he stretches and takes a deep breathe of cold, fresh air. 

After two weeks of driving, at least seven hours a day, in a truck with two other dudes, fresh air is something he’s never appreciated more. 

Sam Asato and Carlos Martinez follow his lead, Sam yawing widely and rubbing his sleep from his eyes. 

Ian notices that Carlos looks grumpy, for some reason. 

He and Sam haven’t been getting along well, the last few days, leaving Ian feeling a little like a dad with two bickering kids.

Secretly, Ian has always wanted children but these two young adults, make him glad he doesn’t have any. 

With companions in tow, Ian Foley mounts the wide wooden steps to a large porch that wraps around the sides of the building. 

The wood is weathered and cracked and the boards are slightly uneven. 

Sam catches the toe of his shoe on a raised nail and trips, jostling Carlos who shoves him away with an admonition to watch were he is going.

Inez Walker had make it sound like the hunting lodge was doing well but whatever money the Shifters are taking in, it seems like they’re not using it on repairs. 

The front door is simple and unadorned fixed with a carved wooden handle and since a hand-printed sign leaning against the wall says to ‘come right in’ Ian pulls it open and steps through. 

While the outside of the lodge has given Ian an impression of a ruin in disrepair, the inside is anything but. 

The lodges’s main hall is huge, dimly lit and packed with arrangement of tables, chairs and couches, all currently empty but obviously intended to create a cosy, welcoming atmosphere. 

Exposed rafters add to the rustic vibe and a huge double-sided stone fireplace occupies the middle of the room.

In keeping with the hunting lodge theme, mounted animal heads line the walls and furs lie upon the floor. 

The lodge’s decor reminds Ian of his dad’s little hunting cabin and he suppresses a rush of bad memories. 

It was the last place he had seen George Foley alive. 

He shakes off that thought, eyeing the reminders of death with distaste. 

George Foley was an avid hunter but his son never had the stomach for it.

‘I have no problem with people hunting for food, I figure they are more in touch with reality than some who have only ever see meat wrapped in plastic but never could I understand why someone would want to kill for sport.’ 

‘I guess I am too much of a bear not to see things from the non-human perspective.’

At one end of the hall, a grey-haired woman sits behind a high counter, flipping through a hunting magazine. 

She looks up as Ian walks towards her.

‘You got a reservation?’ she asks.

She has shining black eyes in a weathered face that still bears the remnants of beauty and a keen appraising gaze.

‘No. No, I don’t,’ he says. 

‘I’m actually...’

She cuts him off with a raise of a hand.

‘Sorry, we don’t take bookings without reservation, during hunting season.’

‘Sorry but I am not here to hunt. My name is Ian Foley and I was told to come here by Inez Walker. Is she around?’

The badge on the lady's shirt says ‘Maria’ so Ian is pretty sure he’s not taking to Inez already. 

A suspicious look crosses her face and she glances behind Ian where Sam and Carlos stand, admiring a chandelier made of deer antlers.

‘Ian Foley, huh? We thought you were coming alone.’

‘I was,’ Ian says with an apologetic smile.

‘Hmm. Well you better come along with me then.’

She drops the magazine on the counter, sets out a little sign that says ‘be right back’ obviously intended for all the swarms of customers that Ian doesn’t see and leads the way towards a door that opens onto the back porch. 

Ian follows her and Sam and Carlos trail behind. 

They descend a few steps to the ground and then head towards another building set back in the trees. 

This one looks like a simple, mid-sized house. 

‘Maria’ takes them around the back to where two men are busy gutting a pair of waterfowl.

‘Oy. Jack, Elliot. We have guests,’ she says

The men look up from their bloody task and meet them with hostile stares. 

One of the men has mid-toned skin and black hair and looks like he might be Native American. 

The other man is paler with straight, shoulder-length, dirty-blond hair. 

Both appear to be about Ian’s age or older and have rough, strongly masculine features.

‘Guests, huh?’ the black haired man asks, dark eyes darting between the three of them. 

‘I thought we didn’t have any bookings this week.’

‘We don’t.’ she says. 

‘This is Ian Foley and his friends.’

The two men share a glance and then look at the woman as if waiting for instructions.

‘He said Inez invited him,’ she adds.

As one, the men draw pistols from somewhere, faster than Ian can follow and aim them at Sam and Carlos. 

Acting on instinct, Ian shoves Sam behind him and raises his hands.

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the fuck?’ Ian asks. 

‘Inez is expecting me. I swear.’ 

‘Expecting you,’ Maria corrects. 

‘Not them.’

She nods between Sam and Carlos.

‘Now, if you are who you claim to be, you can prove it, right? So prove it.’

‘You want me to Shift? Now.’

‘If you don’t want my boys putting holes in your friends, then yes, I want you to show mw what you are.’

‘Okay. Okay. Just a minute.’

Ian strips out of his shirt, kicks off his shoes and removes his belt and jeans.

‘I’ve already ruined one set of clothes by ‘Shifting’ without undressing first and I don’t want to loose another.’ 

‘Not to mention it hurts like hell.’

Once Ian is naked, he takes a deep breath and ‘Shifts’. 

Not all ‘Shifters’ can ‘Shift’ as well as he can. 

Some have to meditate or do some special ritual and some just have to be in the right frame of mind. 

It’s always been easy for Ian Foley, something that fees right and natural and he does it quick and seamlessly from man to bear. 

Standing before the grey-haired woman on all fours, his head almost level with hers, he digs his claws into the soft dirt beneath his feet. 

Then he turns to the men holding guns and lets out an angry puff of breath. 

They stare back at Ian, seemingly impressed and after a moment he shifts back to a man and stands up.

“Well, I do apologize,’ Maria says, looking Ian up and down with an appreciative glance. 

‘It seems like you are one of us, after all. As for your friends, if you vouch for them, we will accept them, for now. Do you give me your word that they can be trusted.’

Ian looks over at Sam and Carlos. 

He’s know them for mere weeks.

‘Sam basically tricked me into a demonic contract and Carlos broke my collarbone with a wrench and yet I do trust them.’ 

‘Maybe I am a fool but I’ll let them prove it if I am.’

‘They are with me,’ he says. 

‘I give you my word.’

Maria nods to Jack and Elliot and they lower their guns.

‘I apologize for the poor welcome,’ she says. 

‘We have had a spate of bad luck lately and it’s put us on edge.’

‘Yeah. If you call people getting murdered, bad luck,’ the black haired man said.

‘Jack, we don’t know if they were murdered. Not yet, anyway.’ Maria says.

‘It’s a hunter, Maria,’ the blonde-haired man ‘Elliot, Ian presumes’ says 

‘It’s got to be. How many times do we have to say it?’

‘We don’t know that,’ Maria snaps. 

‘Until we do, we be careful, that’s all. Do you understand?’

Ian looks between the three of them, confused and on edge. This is not the welcoming he had expected.

“Where is Inez? Ian asks. 

‘I would like to speak with her.’

Maria casts Ian a glance.

‘We all would, darling. She’s missing. Been missing about a week now, give or take. The last four Bear-folk that went missing, turned up dead or never turned up at all. We are hoping it will turn out different this time but...’ 

She shakes her head. 

‘Well, maybe you can help us with that, you seem to have a talent, if nothing else.’

Ian looks over at Sam and Carlos. 

Carlos looks like he ready to bolt into the nearest hole and Sam looks worried and confused.

‘I don’t blame them.’ 

‘I think we are all feeling a little similar.’

‘This was suppose to be a refuge, not a place to be met with violence and paranoia, justified or not.’ 

‘Still I can’t give up, not after coming so far.’ 

‘This is where I feel I am suppose to be.’ 

‘Where I can find all the answers to all the questions that plague my heart.’ 

‘I have to at least try.’

‘Just tell me what to do,’ Ian says.

‘That a’ boy.’ 

Maria smiles. 

‘Welcome to Bear’s Blood Lodge, Ian Foley. Welcome home.’  

[loiswolf]

Day 27 June 14 Kirtlebridge-Shap 79kms

Day 27 June 14 Kirtlebridge-Shap 79kms

The plan was to do a longer day today but if you look at the map at the bottom you will see I didn’t follow the advised cycle route. Too complicated! I just took the A6. It was great, not much traffic and easy to follow except through the cities and the massive roundabouts where I struggled as usual.

So this morning in my tiny sloping roof room I managed to electrocute one of my fingers. Ouch! I was just taking my adapter out of the power point and it zapped me. Obviously I survived and managed to pack up and leave by 8:30. I noticed something very strange when I went out to load Shirley. It wasn’t cold!! I didn’t even need to wear Pinky today!

I followed the tiny road my accommodation was on

Until Hollee where I turned left and made my way over to the road I was riding yesterday. Before too long I was in Gretna Green. I’ve read about this place in books. Because it’s right on the border young couples from England used to come here to elope because the rules were different.

Did anyone remember why Lockerbie was famous?

Yes , the terrible plane crash there in 1988. If you want details you can look it up.

Soon I was crossing the border into England

I think the wind was behind me this morning and I was still travelling downhill. At 24kms I came to the outskirts of Carlisle. I wanted to go through the centre and find a cafe but nearly ended up on the M6 because of one of those gigantic roundabouts. Fortunately I avoided it and found myself on the right road heading for town. I had to make a couple of odd turns towards the town centre but it just looked like huge shopping complexes. Not really what I wanted so I kept going until I found a cafe. The service there was extremely slow but I enjoyed my coffee and crumpets when they finally came.

I’d had time to check the map and I just had to make a couple more little turns and it was straight ahead. First I realised that had I gone a bit further into the town square I would have had a whole lot more cafe options but it was too late for that.

So I was on the A6.  Now I know it saved time navigating but I think when you take a road which runs straight you also get more hills. From this vantage point I could see I was much higher than the M6……definitely hillier.

Working up hills and rolling down the other side was quite enjoyable and it wasn’t long before I was in Penrith. It’s a very busy city and I wandered aimlessly for a while.

All I wanted was fast food and a supermarket but it took me ages to find them. I’m not sure why I was craving fast food. I guess I just wanted something hot after my bread and salad dinner last night.

None of the supermarkets were any good either so it was a waste of time. Good thing I wasn’t in a hurry. I also saw bike shops in both Carlisle and Penrith but a new battery in my transmitter had seemed to fix my odometer. 😬

There were a couple of really, really huge roundabouts to negotiate south of Penrith and it took me a while to find my A6 again.

There wasn’t really far to go but I had managed to use up most of the day.

This is a photo from the top of the last hill just before Shap.

It’s a nice little town and I am in a lovely room where I can actually stand up straight. I’m not terribly hungry after my McDonalds lunch but there is a fish and chips shop down the road which I am told I must try out. I might just do that!

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Leon brings Merlin and Lancelot in on his underground enterprise;

Turns out, Leon is the biggest Magic Ally out there. Confusion, bonding, and sneaky hijinks ensue.

I imagine it starts fairly normally.

The Gang (King Arthur, Merlin, and the five knights) have literally just arrived back at the castle after a fairly uneventful hunt (I mean... nowadays, getting attacked by bandits only once in three days counts as uneventful).

Merlin is left behind to help the stablehands untack the horses, like usual, except he leaves the stables half a candle mark later to find Leon awkwardly loitering around outside, the evening dimming around him.

He thinks maybe the First Knight had gotten injured, and was too embarrassed to ask for help in front of everyone (something that is common in all of the knights. Merlin thinks it’s very stupid, and has told all of them this at least once), so doesn’t question it when Leon asks Merlin for a quick word, and leads him back to his quarters.

Leon locks the door behind him. Not unusual, the man was very private. It’s when he puts a chair in front of the door and draws the curtains, that Merlin starts to get a little nervous. He’d cast a small enchantment on one of the bandits, to make him confused enough to trip over his own feet (as opposed to skewering Elyan, which is what he’d been about to do) but Merlin was certain that no one had seen him. He was certain.

And... Leon was a knight. He’d been a knight for longer than Arthur had been King, longer than he’d even known Merlin. Surely if he saw... he would've said something, accused him or just killed him.

(He has to remind himself to have a little faith in his friends. But also: “This might be completely unrelated, so just act natural.”)

Leon turns around to look at Merlin, and instantly recognises how nervous the younger man is, despite his poor attempt to hide it. The knight keeps his distance, and gives him a slow nod:

“I just wanted to let you know, Merlin, if you ever need... ah, a way out of the city, unseen, at short notice, then I can sort something for you.”

At that, all of Merlin’s racing, terrifying thoughts, stutter to a stop, and he looks at Leon with nothing but confusion on his face. He tilts his head slightly, asking, ever so eloquently:

“...What?”

Leon sends a soft smile and a knowing wink his way:

“Or, you know, the back up of a noble in court, or an alibi, I can do that to. I have a feeling that, considering you haven’t done a runner yet, you’re planning on sticking around.”

Merlin just furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head slightly in bewilderment:

“I... Leon I have no idea what you’re talking about. What do you mean, done a runner? Why would I need your help in court or... or an alibi??”

Leon just raises an eyebrow, and tilts his head.

Merlin copies him.

A look of realisation crosses the blonde’s face, and he lifts his hands in surrender:

“Ah. Ok, before I say anything else, I promise Merlin, you are entirely safe. I would protect you with my life if I had to-”

Merlin slowly nods, still confused:

“-I know about your magic.”

Merlin gasps and steps back, but Leon just smiles at him again, nodding his head slightly; it does nothing to relax the servant, and his breathing continues to get deeper as he backs himself against the wall, tears filling his eyes.

Leon frowns, his heart cracking slightly, but resists the protective urge to walk towards Merlin to comfort him. Instead he takes a step back, not lowering his hands. Before he can open his mouth to utter more reassurances, a tirade of broken, cracking apologies fall from Merlin’s lips:

“I... Leon I swear I’m not evil, I... I don’t hurt people, I promise. Please, you... please believe me, I would NEVER-”

Leon interrupts him, shaking his head rapidly, and forcing a reassuring smile on his face:

“I know. Merlin, I know that. I know you’re not evil, I know that you use it to protect us, I know. It’s ok, I won’t tell anyone, you’re not in danger, I would NEVER hurt you, or tell anyone, ok? I swear it. You’re safe with me.”

Merlin gulps, but relaxes (only slightly, but it’s a start. Leon doesn’t know why he’s so surprised at Merlin’s reaction, I suppose he thought he had been clear in his brotherly affection and protectiveness towards the younger man. Apparently not; he would have to fix that). He gives Leon an assessing once over, and it strikes the knight how efficient he is. He wonders how many times Merlin’s eyes have flicked over someone: checking their face for any sign of deception, checking how close their hands are to a weapon, checking their stance to see if they’re preparing for a fight.

Leon stays in place, forcing himself to untense, and giving Merlin a weak smile, hoping that the servant doesn’t mistake his slight heartbreak for fear or anger.

After a few moments, Merlin relaxes even further (though is still understandably ready to bolt at a moment’s notice), and steps away from the wall, Leon’s smile widens, and he nods once again, patiently waiting for Merlin to say something:

“You... you offered to smuggle me out of the city?”

Leon nods, glancing to the door behind him before gesturing Merlin to keep his voice down as he replies cryptically:

“You wouldn’t be the first.”

The servant gulps, giving the knight an assessing gaze, magic buzzing under his skin, alert and frightened at the idea of a Red Knight other than Lancelot knowing the truth:

“You’ve smuggled others out?”

Leon nods and moves ever so slowly to sit on the edge of his bed, still holding his hands up placatingly. He doesn’t gesture for Merlin to join him, understanding the other man’s remaining jumpiness, but leaves space next to him, just in case.

Merlin hesitates for only a second before settling on the bed next to him, forcing himself to relax. The knight wasn’t currently armed, and anyway, if Leon had been planning on accusing him or attacking him, then he wouldn’t be doing this. None of what he said could, in any way, make sense as some sort of trick.

Once Merlin settles, still a little uneasy, Leon begins his explanation in a quiet voice, obviously still worried about startling Merlin (and obviously not wanting to risk someone overhearing him):

“It started when I was fifteen. One of the serving girls in my father’s household was born with magic, though it didn’t manifest until years after the purge started. She was my age, sweet, kind, I couldn’t possibly believe her to be evil or corrupt, but under The King’s law, she would’ve been burned. Poor girl was terrified of being found out, but Uther was so paranoid, they were basically interrogating anyone who entered or exited the city; she had nowhere to go. I had already started my training at this point, so I used my knowledge of guard rotations and shift changes to sneak her out. I left her with some family in a village nearer the border, snuck back in a few days later. From then on it just... kept happening. I suppose I got good at recognising the specific brand of fear that magic-users in Camelot suffer from, and I’ve got a good eye; I know magic when I see it-”

He gives Merlin a knowing look, but the servant just turns indignant and says:

“Well, I was also born with magic, and it took you ten years to figure it out, so-”

He sticks his tongue out at the knight, and Leon raises his eyebrow at him, before laughing and nodding, thankful for Merlin’s lessening fear:

“-yeah, I suppose. But still. It started off with just the occasional person; one or two a month. And then it was whole families or groups of people who either had magic, or were scared of being accused and wanted out. It became a bit of a side-career, though I always refused any payment they offered.”

Merlin stares at him, thoughtful and in awe, before yet another look of realisation crosses his face:

“Is this why the Druids are so fond of you?”

Finally, it’s Leon’s turn to look confused, and Merlin continues:

“Whenever we come across them, they always seem less wary of you than the other knights, like they know what you’ve done.”

Leon takes in slow breath, quirking his eyebrows slightly and shrugging:

“I’ve never really noticed, maybe. I’ve never been into a camp, but when someone I was sneaking out had nowhere to go, I’d take them as close to a Druid settlement as I dared, and pointed them in the right direction; I suppose word might’ve spread.”

Merlin nods, looking to his lap, thinking. Leon stays silent, understanding that this is probably a lot to take in, and not wanting to interrupt Merlin’s processing time. 

After a few moments, Merlin, still staring into his lap, reaches across to Leon and takes the knight’s hand in a shaking one of his own. It’s then that Leon notices the slow tears on the other man’s face, but before he can say anything, Merlin looks up at him, his voice shaking as he whispers a rough:

“Thank you.”

Leon smiles, squeezing his hand and bumping their shoulders together:

“Anytime. Like I said Merlin, I would protect you with my life. If you ever need anything...”

Merlin takes a deep breath, standing and wiping the tears from his face quickly before dragging Leon to the door:

“There is one thing. Come on.”

Leon allows himself to be dragged, and Merlin moves the chair to the side before stepping out of the way, allowing Leon to unlock the door with the key hanging around his neck. He doesn’t question where they’re going, though he is slightly confused when he notices that they’re heading deeper into the castle, as opposed to outside or to Merlin’s chambers like he was expecting.

They finally come to a stop outside Lancelot’s door, and Leon nods to himself in realisation. He had suspected that the other knight had known the truth, but hadn’t wanted to ask or push it in case he was wrong.

Merlin knocks rapidly after checking the corridor for other people, and the door had barely been opened before he’s pushing his way through, still dragging Leon behind him. The two men move to stand by the opposite wall, Lancelot still by the door looking increasingly confused:

“Merlin, Leon, is... is everything alright?”

Merlin waves his hand casually, not even needing an incantation as his eyes flash briefly gold and the door shuts of it’s own accord (... or Merlin’s accord).

Lancelot immediately gasps and makes a jump for the sword sat on the table, but Leon holds his hands up in surrender as Merlin rushes to speak:

“Lance it’s fine!! Leon knows about my magic, and he’s been smuggling people out of Camelot for decades, he’s safe.”

Lancelot looks to Leon with a mix of suspicion and relief, still picking the sword up and holding it loosely in one hand, but the older knight is too distracted staring at Merlin in mild outrage:

“Dec- How old do you think I am, Merlin?!”

Merlin looks up at him guiltily, and Lancelot lets go of his suspicion, instead clamping his free hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing at Merlin’s squeaked reply:

“Uh... there’s no safe way to answer that, is there? You said you were fifteen when you started, and I know you’re older than Arthur, so...”

Leon scoffs, rolling his eyes as Lancelot snorts:

“I’m only five years older than him, Merlin. I’m thirty-one, you can say “decades” plural when I hit thirty-five, and not a day sooner.”

Merlin holds in a smirk, and nods. Lancelot clears his throat, dropping the sword back on the table and asking the obvious question:

“So... how much does he know?”

Merlin spends the rest of the night explaining everything, from Kilgharrah calling to him when he first arrived, (”You mean that thing was under the castle the whole time?!”) to just last week, when he had to sneak out of the city to deal with a particularly insatiable Succubus that was causing problems with the border patrols (”Huh. I wondered why the men had just... stopped disappearing. I’m not complaining though, thank you.”).

He included all the information about the prophecies and being Emrys and how Arthur was the Once and Future King and the coming (potential) Golden Age. Leon was especially curious about that, and interrupted often to ask questions.

Lancelot also interrupted rather often, but only to correct Merlin when he underappreciated his own genius or power or selflessness, much to Merlin’s embarrassment and annoyance.

Merlin also tried to miss out as much of his own suffering as he could, but Lancelot wasn’t having it, and Leon was horrified to learn of the Serket sting, the countless, almost fatal fights he’d had with various people (Nimueh, The Cailleach (”I did also wonder how the veil just... repaired itself. Nice one.”), Morgause, Agravaine, etc (Morgana is good in this, though her magic is still hidden)), and all the other terrible things that had happened.

When he finally finishes, Leon is speechless.

The knight had just thought that Merlin had learned a few tricks to keep himself and Arthur safe when they went out and about, but he was actually, apparently, the most powerful Warlock ever, and had a whole series of prophecies and battle scars to back it up. Lancelot’s face was an odd mix of prideful and mournful, and that only drove home to Leon how much Merlin had suffered over the years.

After a few minutes of silence, Merlin awkwardly waiting, as if for judgement, Lancelot pipes up, his voice oddly cheery:

“So, Sir Leon, fancy two extra sets of hands in the little smuggling ring you’ve got going?”

~

And that is essentially... exactly what happens. 

It’s usually Leon who discovers the sorcerers, being the most observant of the three, but it’s Merlin they send on the first approach more often than not. Leon had always been painfully aware of how scary a Camelot Knight going “I know you have magic” must be, so the trio takes advantage of Merlin’s non-threatening look. That, paired with the fact that he’s well known and well loved around the town, makes starting things off a lot easier.

A lot of the time, the people they approach don’t want to leave. They’ve kept themselves hidden for over twenty years, and they plan to continue to do so, but it’s a weight off their back to know that the option is there if they need it.

Merlin introduces Leon to the tunnels under the city, hidden and warded with his magic. The older knight is very much relieved at that; taking advantage of gaps in guard rotations wasn’t the most reliable plan, and he’d been paranoid for years that something would go wrong one day and he’d get caught.

They worked well together, though all three of their lives got a lot more complicated. Lancelot and Merlin were pulled into Leon’s secret smuggling life (despite him insisting that they could sit it out, considering they were already so busy trying to keep Arthur alive, which is apparently a lot harder than Leon had first assumed), and Leon was pulled into Merlin and Lancelot’s secret “bring about the Golden Age” life (despite the two of them insisting that Leon didn’t need to help, considering he was already so busy running a smuggling ring right under the nose of the King).

To be honest, the two lives sort of swirled together. Anyone that they sent to the Druid camps was told to spread the word of the Once and Future King, and when Leon was sent to distract Arthur when Lancelot and Merlin needed to do something Magicky, Lancelot was sent to distract Arthur when Leon and Merlin needed to do something smuggly.

Eventually Gaius finds out. Because of course he does. Because he’s not stupid. And whilst the three of them are unwilling to put him in anymore danger than he’s already in (harbouring a Warlock is... pretty dangerous. Though Arthur would probably forgive the older man anything.), they never turn away the small, portable medkits he passes along to them, and don’t complain when he offers to talk to Arthur about a promising new treatment for the flu for a few hours.

But overall, they have a proper little (unpaid) enterprise going, and no one suspects a thing. 

~

Mistakes are made of course, some a little bigger that others. But most of them get a laugh from the trio when they think back on them later.

Ironically enough, this mistake came when the trio mistook a “need to save Arthur” problem, for a “need to save this poor scared sorcerer” problem.

They’d been getting complacent. No one had tried to kill Arthur directly in a while, so when a visiting Lord brought with him a very nervous, very secretive stablehand, they didn’t even consider that it would be the young servant who wanted to kill Arthur as opposed to the visiting noble (who was an arsehole, and therefor automatically under suspicion).

Merlin, being the most powerful of the three of them, was keeping an eye on the noble; trying to keep him away from Arthur as well as trying to figure out if he knew that his stablehand was a magic-user. Leon was distracting Arthur, with the help of a report Gaius had written, by talking endlessly about certain weaknesses in the knight’s armour and the injuries that Gaius treats most often and the link between the two.

That left Lancelot to trail the stablehand, whose name they had discovered was Alban. He wasn’t wearing any armour and didn’t have a sword, only a small dagger up his sleeve, so as not to frighten the boy.

Which of course was a huge mistake.

Considering how innocent Merlin looks, but how dangerous he actually is, they really shouldn’t have underestimated the boy, but alas, with how well both of the secret lives had been going, their egos had grown, and they weren’t as careful as they should’ve been.

It was only after the Lord had retired to his chambers (and Merlin had come to the annoying conclusion that he was an arsehole, but certainly not smart enough to be dangerous), and Leon had exhausted every possible line of enquiry about armour and injuries, that the two of them thought something might be wrong.

It had been hours since they had heard from Lancelot, and by the sounds of it, no one had seen him in that time either.

The stablehand also couldn’t be found.

They tried not to assume the worst; all of them (Merlin, most often) had disappeared for longer before, so before they panicked, the two of them went about methodically searching for the other knight.

The wards down in the tunnels hadn’t been disturbed, Lancelot’s room was untouched (the sight of his armour and sword laid out on his bed did nothing to quell their growing anxiety), and no one had seen him leave the city. The Camelot stablehands had no idea where the visiting servant was, and had apparently barely seen him in the stables since he’d arrived anyway.

Now it was time to panic.

The two men rushed back to Lancelot’s room, shutting the door behind them, Merlin hurriedly asking:

“What’s the last thing he touched, do you reckon?”

Leon raked his hands through his hair for the dozenth time, looking around with wide eyes:

“Uh... we had training this morning, and he took his armour off after that, and immediately went to follow Alban, so his armour? His sword?”

Merlin picks the sword up in careful but hurried hands. He closes his eyes, concentrating, as he mutters a quick spell. The sword shimmers for a moment before Merlin throws it back down on the bed with a huff:

“Nope, the trail is there but it’s weak, I need something more recent.”

Leon curses quietly to himself:

“Try his water goblet? Or the wash bowl? God knows that man doesn’t like to be grimy.”

Merlin hums, walking to the wash bowl before halting in his tracks:

“Wait... no, you’re right. He doesn’t like being dirty,-”

With that, Merlin changes direction, heading to the small desk in the corner and opening the draws at random, rifling through them. Leon walks up behind him:

“Merlin? What are you-”

He’s interrupted by Merlin exclaiming in victory, and straightening up. He turns around with a grin on his face, holding out a small comb:

“-he will have run a comb through his hair after washing,-”

He pulls a short, brunette hair from between the wooden teeth:

“-and an actual piece of him is WAY better to track him with than something he’s just touched.”

He repeats the spell from earlier, the smile returning to his face when he begins to feel the pull in his heart, leading him to the lost knight.

The two of them leave the room hurriedly, Leon trailing after Merlin, both of them trying to look an inconspicuous as possible.

They walk briskly down the corridor, hope and excitement blooming in their chests at the idea of finding the friend they’d been so worried about. Leon puts a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, but neither of them stop moving as he speaks lowly:

“Can you tell how far away he is?”

Merlin hums, before replying equally quietly:

“Yeah, I think he’s about... actually... no, no I can’t- what?”

With that, he stops dead in his tracks, stumbling when Leon runs into his back with a gentle “oof”. The knight looks down at him, his face back to looking panicked. They’d stopped at a crossroads in the corridor, and Merlin’s head twitches from side to side, like he can’t decide which way to go.

Leon shakes his shoulder slightly:

“Merlin, he’s been gone for hours, we need to hurry. Close your eyes, breathe, which way is Lancelot?”

Merlin does what Leon says, shuffling on his feet slightly before closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, and relaxing his shoulders:

“Where are you, Lance?”

He mutters it quietly to himself, and Leon barely dares to breathe, not wanting to distract him. After a few moments, Merlin’s head twitches to the right, the corridor that leads to the servant quarters. The servant opens his eyes, nodding briefly at Leon, before turning and walking down the corridor. 

He passes the first few doors without hesitation, thankful for the late hour; all the servants are either eating their own dinner, or serving dinner to their masters. Which is probably where Merlin should be right now, but he had more pressing matters, he could deal with Arthur later.

He slows as he reaches the end of the corridor, frowning in confusion. There are no more doors, they’ve reached a dead end, and Merlin tilts his head whilst Leon stares at him expectantly, periodically checking the corridor behind them. Merlin begins muttering to himself again, flexing his hands as if he were in pain:

“This is... wrong. I don’t come down here very often but... there’s... this is wrong. I can feel it and I can... see it, like there’s something out the corner of my eye that shouldn’t be there-”

He gasps, turning and looking at a specific part of the wall, hovering his hand over the stonework:

“-or something that should be there!”

Leon’s gaze flicks between the wall and Merlin as he quietly asks:

“A hidden door? Can you... unhide it?”

Merlin takes a second to snort and roll his eyes, before pressing his hand against the wall, muttering spells to himself. Leon turns around, hand on the hilt of his sword at his hip as he stands guard. After a few minutes of Merlin getting more and more frustrated when the wall stays... well... a wall, he finally lets out a whispered exclamation; Leon glances behind him to see the stone rippling, and finally fading to reveal the door. 

With one last check down the corridor, they enter the room slowly, shutting the door behind him. Leon whispers Lance’s name into the darkness tentatively, but Merlin just shakes his head, summoning a light.

It’s just a normal storage room filled with dusty shelves and empty crates, but Merlin moves through the debris to the back, cursing under his breath when he finds what he’s looking for. Leon moves up behind him, staring over the younger man’s shoulder to the precise symbol drawn onto the floor:

“Merls?”

Merlin huffs speaking lowly, not looking away from the symbol:

“It’s a teleportation spell, it’s why I was being pulled in two directions. Lance went through this portal, but it probably took him somewhere outside the city limits.”

Leon gulps, before taking a deep breath and gripping Merlin’s shoulder again:

“Can you activate it? Do we follow through the portal, or track him out of the city??”

Merlin shakes his head roughly:

“No, that would take far too long, we don’t actually know how long he’s been gone, it could have been all afternoon, remember? Look around, there should be a crystal or an orb or something, like a switch I have to push magic into to activate the spell.”

It only takes a few minutes of rummaging for Leon to uncover a rough looking crystal, and Merlin smiles weakly at the comically fearful look on the knight’s face as he holds it as far away from himself as he can; he may trust Merlin’s magic, but he is still logically... unnerved by things he doesn’t understand.

Merlin takes it from him, eyes turning briefly gold as he mutters an incantation and his hand is engulfed in a blue flame. The flame dies down after a few seconds at Merlin’s command, and he hides the now glowing crystal back where Leon had found it, before looking back to the symbol on the floor.

It takes only a few moments for the lines to start softly glowing, and when nothing else changes, Merlin takes a deep breath, reaching behind him blindly for Leon’s hand, and muttering:

“Well, here goes nothing.”

He feels the knight take his hand and step up next to him. With one last nervous glance to each other, they nod, and step into the circle.

~

MEANWHILE

Thankfully, whilst Lancelot hadn’t been seen in a while (on account of being camped out in the hidden storage room, waiting for his stalkee to reappear out of the weird glowy circle thing), he had only actually been kidnapped by Evil Alban the Not-Stablehand for about half a candle mark.

And he was currently very bored. The younger man finally reappeared, only to fly into a rage at the sight of another man, crouched like a gremlin, almost asleep in the corner of the entrance to his secret lair.

His eyes had flashed sickly yellow, and Lancelot found himself falling over the edge into sleep, and waking up an undetermined amount of time (like five minutes, but it was so fucking dark where he was, he had no way to guess what time of day it was) later, tied to a chair (not gagged, thankfully).

He had realised the trio’s mistake fairly early on in Evil Alban the Not-Stablehand’s monologue; something about vengeance and sins of the father and yadda yadda yadda. Honestly? He tuned it out pretty quickly, he’d heard it all before... multiple times, and he wasn’t too worried; he had faith that Merlin and Leon would arrive to rescue him soon (though he wasn’t looking forward to all the comments along the lines of “who’s the real princess?”).

It was when he almost nodded off that Alban stuttered slightly:

“...after all, surely someone who is strong enough to take the crown should... should deserve... it... are you falling asleep?!”

Lancelot’s head whips up with a quiet snort as he blinks the sleep from his eyes, and looks at the outraged criminal with guilt in his eyes:

“Uh... no? You’re doing wonderfully, Alban, very riveting, keep going.”

The knight’s words do nothing to calm the other man down, and he exclaims slightly as he stamps his foot petulantly. Lancelot bites his lip to stop himself laughing, but before he can get himself under control and say something else, Alban puffs his chest out and grins triumphantly:

“Your mind games shan’t work on me, Sir Knight. I will not be distracted by your mocking or... or distractions.”

Lancelot raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. Alban huffs, shaking his head roughly before looking back at Lancelot with wide, expectant eyes:

“Well? What do you think of my plan, noble Sir? Ineffable, no?”

Lancelot purses his lips, once again looking guilty as he chooses not to point out the younger’s misuse of the word ineffable (definitely NOT ineffable, considering he’d banged on and on for half a candle-mark):

“I don’t suppose you could... sum up the last twenty minutes or so worth of... plan? Then I could.... let you know my thoughts?”

Alban let out an inhuman screech, stamping his foot again, much to Lancelot’s hidden amusement. The Great Villain stalked off into the darkness, huffing and grumbling to himself, and Lancelot just rolled his eyes, murmuring under his breath:

“For fucks sake. Better not leave me here. Where the fuck are you guys?”

As if the Gods themselves answered the knight’s question, he hears another inhuman screech come from the darkness; though this one was a lot more high pitched, and was immediately followed by Leon’s unmistakable voice growling out:

“Where is he you pre-pubescent piece of shit?!”

Lancelot allows himself to snort at the likely look of terror on the Not-Stablehand’s face before yelling:

“Don’t make the kid shit himself Leon, if he does, you’ll be the one carrying his unconscious body back.”

He hears Merlin’s laugh and the distinct sound of a skull making contact with the hilt of a sword, before the two of them appear like ghosts, lit only by the glow of Merlin’s golden eyes, and the magical light floating between their heads.

Lancelot gives them a grin, shuffling in his binds slightly as he says:

“Took you long enough, he’s been banging on about how clever he is for fucking ages. Cut me loose, would you?”

Merlin clicks his fingers, the ropes falling the the floor as Leon checks him over for injury, and affectionately ruffling his hair, much to the other knight’s chagrin.

The three of them move to crowd around Alban’s crumpled form, hands on their hips as they stare at him, unimpressed. Lancelot sighs:

“You really didn’t have to hit him that hard, I don’t think he was that much of a threat.”

Merlin huffs and stalks off to reactivate the teleportation spell, leaving the chastising for Leon to deal with:

“Not much of a threat?! Lance no one had seen you in hours, we thought you were dead!”

Lancelot frowns and shuffles, suddenly looking apologetic:

“Ah, sorry. He took me less than a candle-mark ago, though I guess I lost track of how long I’d been sat waiting for him before that. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Leon huffs, but drops the subject as Merlin calls back to them. The curly-hired knight picks Alban up, laying him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before following Lancelot in Merlin’s direction. They stand around the glowing symbol, and Lancelot rolls his eyes at Merlin’s glower:

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Mister I regularly show up after three days covered in bruises and blood with “The Tavern” as my only excuse.”

Leon snorts and Merlin rolls his eyes but smirks, and with that, the trio step into the circle, reappearing back in the storage cupboard with no one else in Camelot even vaguely aware of the mini adventure they’d had.

~

This happens for a while. Saving people (mostly Arthur) from the batshit insane things that happen in Camelot that no one but them seems to be aware of.

Of course, rumours fly about the oddly close connection the three men have. Lancelot is head over heals in love with Guinevere (which he ardently denies, despite Merlin and Leon’s repeated dramatic attempts to get them together) and everyone knows it, but even Arthur starts to (jealously) suspect something is going on between Leon and Merlin, especially when Merlin’s lack of talent when it comes to making up excuses is displayed yet again.

Leon and Merlin had been sneaking out of the castle, on their way to meet the teenage son of a noble who desperately needed to escape. Lancelot, who had a late patrol, was to meet them by one of the tunnel entrances outside the city limits, and assure that no other guards were nearby.

Unfortunately, the pair came across a sleepy King, on his way to the kitchens for a midnight snack.

The King stared at them with wide, shocked eyes, and the pair stared back. Leon grimaced slightly, and after a few moments of awkward silence, Arthur slowly asks:

“What are you two... doing?”

Leon takes a deep breath desperately trying to come up with something to say, but before he can find an excuse, Merlin pipes up:

“I was teaching him poetry.”

Leon lets out his breath before slowly covering his face with his hands as he shakes his head slightly. Merlin immediately realises his mistake and bites his lip, furrowing his eyebrows as he says:

“What I mean, is that-”

He’s cut off by Arthur holding a hand up, his face looking mildly put-off as he shakes his head:

“I don’t want to know. Yeah, I changed my mind, I really... don’t want to know.” Before turning around and heading back in the same direction he’d come from, hunger forgotten.

Merlin holds his breath until Arthur turns the corner, before letting it all out in one go and staring at the floor wide-eyed. Leon keeps his head in his hands as he mutters:

“You fucking idiot.-” before looking up at the man besides him incredulously:

“-Why??”

Merlin looks at him indignantly, and loudly whispers:

“I don’t know!! It was just the three of us in a dark corridor like last time and it just popped into my head and I said it! At least he didn’t push, I suppose.”

Leon shakes his head again, before a look of realisation crosses his face and he looks at Merlin with dread in his eyes:

“Yeah... except when you used that excuse on me- shut up, of course I knew you were lying, I’m not an idiot- I thought you and Arthur were uh... well, I thought you were sleeping together...”

Merlin’s eyes go wide and he sputters for a response before he lets out a quiet, deranged laugh, and shakes his blushing head:

“First off, no. Second off... at least he didn’t push.” he repeats. Leon squints at his friend, before he gasps and grins:

“Oh my God, you like him!-”

Merlin scowls at him, and Leon laughs gleefully (though still quietly) before whispering:

“-all this time we’ve been ribbing Lancelot about Guinevere, and we should’ve been ribbing you! Oh my God, wait ‘til Lance hears this.”

Merlin turns on him, face bright red as he angrily (or as angrily as he can, when he’s the colour of Leon’s cape, and the knight is trying not to wake the castle up with his laughter):

“I swear to God, Leon, I will turn you into a fucking toad if you breath a word to anyone! I’ll do it, I swear I’ll do it!”

Leon forces himself to breath and coughs slightly as he catches his breath, putting a hand on Merlin’s shoulder:

“Fine, fine. I won’t say anything, but only if you help me hang mistletoe up in Lance’s doorway next week.”

Merlin rolls his eyes, but nods his head with a grin, and with that, they resume their sneaking around.

~

This happens for what feels like years and years, but really, Merlin only gets one day into looking at Leon with a shit-eating grin and saying that the old man has been doing this for “decades”, when suddenly... they don’t have to do it anymore.

Arthur repeals the ban on magic. 

And to be honest, it was a complete surprise to everyone. Of course, the whole Kingdom knew that he was more tolerant than his father had ever been; he hadn’t executed anyone in years, and unless accusations were serious or life-threatening, he rarely ordered investigations.

As it turns out, he’d been working on it in secret for months, with only  Morgana’s help (not that he knew about her magic, she was just the only person in his life who’d always been vocally against the ban). All the work they’d put in meant that when it came time to present it to the council, all Arthur had to do was hold his head high and say something along the lines of “I am your King, you do this, or you lose your seat.”.

The drafts were so well-worked, so perfect, the council had nothing to argue against, no excuses worth more than a roll of the eyes and a dismissive wave of the hand.

The repeal went through seamlessly, and Arthur was announcing Merlin and Morgana as his Court Sorcerers within a week (after of course a few hours of raging at the lies and deception, in which they defended themselves and each each other with sharp tongues and entirely valid descriptions of their terror, and with Leon and Lancelot stood behind them the whole time ready to pull their swords at a moments notice).

Leon, Lancelot, and Merlin told the King about all their adventures saving his arse, which he floundered at before abashedly thanking them, but they never mentioned the now obsolete smuggling ring they had going.

Of course, there were moments when they missed the excitement of sneaking out at night, the victory of seeing a family off to the Druid’s, or to a safe village, but ultimately they were ecstatic that they weren’t needed in that capacity anymore. It was undeniably a good thing.

Their plan to keep their heroics to themselves failed miserably however, when a crowd of around two-hundred gathered in the courtyard, led by a woman in her mid-thirties who looked mighty familiar to Sir Leon.

The gang met them down there, armed and worried at first, but quickly relaxing when they realised this was the furthest to an attack a group this large could get.

The King led the party, Morgana, Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival to his left, and Merlin, Leon, and Lancelot to his right, Guinevere and Gaius waiting by the castle entrance. It was only when Lancelot gasped, and grabbed Merlin and Leon’s sleeves to point at a specific family near the front of the crowd that they understood. All these people, all these happy, joyful, alive people... were people they’d saved over the years.

The three of them gulped, suddenly teary as more and more of the crowd pointed their way, wide smiles on their faces. They knew that this wasn’t even half the people they had saved (if you include Leon’s sixteen years doing it alone), but still, it was astounding to visually see it.

The familiar woman stepped forward at Arthur’s gesture, and the trio suddenly realise what’s about to happen. “Oh shit.” and variants of the above are muttered by all three as they wait with baited breath. There’s not really anything they can do to stop this:

“Your Highness, firstly I would like to thank you, for accepting my people back into your Kingdom-”

Her voice quietens slightly as she glances to the floor, her eyes filling with tears before she looks up again:

“-many of us haven’t been home in... in a long time, and it’s good to be back.-”

Arthur nods, giving her a smile despite his still growing confusion at the crowd behind her. The woman looks quickly to Leon, giving him a brief smile as he gasps, recognising her. She looks back to the King, raising her voice and her head as she continues:

“-Secondly, I would like to extend an even greater thank-you to Sir Leon, and his two companions, without whom many of us would have died. They risked their lives sneaking us out of the city when your father hunted us, and after, when we were still at risk of execution, but they never stopped, and never gave up. We are but a fraction of the hundreds of people they saved, and we have nothing to offer them but our unending gratitude, and a humble demand that they are rewarded for their service to Camelot’s people. They are heroes to us all, and always will be”

Arthur looks slowly over to a very teary Leon, who doesn’t even glance his way as he stares at the former servant-girl, a weak smile on his face. Merlin and Lancelot meet The King’s gaze in his stead, smiling sheepishly and shrugging as they nod, confirming the woman’s story.

Arthur shakes his head minutely, half proud of his friends, and half annoyed at being caught off guard, before turning back to the woman, the smile back on his face:

“I’m glad to welcome you home, all of you, and I apologise that it took so long for me to right the wrongs committed by this Kingdom. Sir Leon and his companions will indeed be rewarded for their service,-”

At this, Arthur turns to look at the trio, a soft, meaningful smile on his face as he nods at them:

“-and I extend my thanks to them also, for being brave enough to protect my people, when I was not.”

Leon finally meets The King’s gaze, and returns his nod. Merlin and Lancelot each clap him on the back, before the three of them descend into the crowd. A loud cheer goes up around the courtyard, the rest of the knights, Morgana, and Guinevere looking on in shock as the trio greets person after person, accepting thanks and hugs and laughing joyously at the reminder of the good they’d done, despite their fear.

~

THE END!!

I really loved writing this one😄! Honestly this idea started out as crack, but I’m glad that it ended so wholesomely :)

Same as usual lads, someone wants to write it up properly or extend it, go for it, credit and tag me ✌️

#merthur #bbc merlin #gwencelot #merlin fluff #merlin #protective lancelot #protective leon #leon knows about merlins magic #everybody lives nobody dies #sir leon #leon #sir lancelot #lancelot #brief merthur #brief gwencelot #percival #sir percival #elyan #sir elyan #gwaine #sir gwaine #arthur #king arthur #arthur pendragon #leon and merlin are bros fight me #smuggling #leon is NOT old #merlin is teaching a lot of people poetry apparently #guinevere #gwen

[stellocchia]

Also. Prompt. Pre the Wilbur boner lore incident

Tommy's sent to las nevadas to like. Deliver some news to Quackity from wilbur (wilbur can't go in person EVERY time he needs to let Quackity know he's better than him)

And he does. And Quackity kinda asks him to help out with a little itty bitty thing and since I like to think that Tommy has a shit ton of handy skills, he agrees to help fix whatevers broken since it's just a short delay and then as thanks Quackity let's him play a few games for free and then it's already getting dark and even if the burger van is a 5 minute walk away, why not just stay in Las nevadas for the night and hey. He actually catches some fucking solid sleep for the first time in months. And obviously then he has to stay for breakfast and because Wilbur may have raised a Brat but that brat still has manners, he helps clean up afterwards and hey there's still another small thing he could help out with and what do you know, suddenly it's been a week since he was sent to deliver that message and Wilburs there yelling about how Big Q kidnapped him.

Big Q adopting Tommy my beloved!

---

Wilbur had been very clear about his instructions, go to Quackity, ask him if he wanted to discuss borders over a candlelight dinner, and then get back with the answer.

He wasn't sure why he of all people had been chosen to ask out Big Q for Wilbur when Ranboo was right there and had a husband, but he wasn't gonna turn down such an easy task. At least it wasn't mining stone until he was hallucinating this time.

He went up to Quackity, asked what he needed to, and got a resounding "not even if he pays me" answer and he was about to go back. He really was But then Quackity asked him if he could trim one of their trees since it was a peculiar one and he didn't know how to touch it, and Tommy couldn't exactly say no to that, could he?

He helped with the tree and Quackity offered him a full dinner as payment. And Tommy had manners so, of course, he accepted. By the end of it, he was so full that he just fell asleep right there. On the table. He almost expected to wake up there as well, but no. He found himself tucked into a comfortable bed in the Las Nevadas hotel. Somehow he'd managed to sleep straight through the night. No nightmares or anything. It was amazing.

He was still planning to go back to Wilbur with his answer as soon as he got up, but then Foolish was there to invite him to breakfast with the rest of Las Nevadas and he just thought that it had been a while since he had that much company. And Tubbo was there too, he missed Tubbo.

After breakfast, he was asked if he could babysit all the various kids for a moment while the others took care of cleaning up. And there were about four kids there, he couldn't just let them roam around and cause chaos, could he? So he stayed. And then there was lunch, another dinner, and Tubbo wanted to show him the suspicious green leak he found in the kitchen of the Tubburger, and Foolish asked him to help restore an old wooden table, and Big Q just wanted to hang out for a bit and, oh, it had been a week already.

So he shouldn't have been as surprised as he was when Wilbur came marching to Las Nevadas demanding Quackity hand him back. As if he'd been kidnapped. Maybe he had. He wasn't too sure what constituted a kidnapping. They gave him food and a comfortable place to sleep and he decided to stay, was that kidnapping? No no, he was pretty sure it wasn't.

"He's a kid! Are you really such lowly scum that you'd use my kid brother as a hostage?" Wilbur insisted. "For the last time Wilbur: I didn't kidnap him. We just have actual beds and running water here so he likes it more" Quackity explained exasperatedly. "Also Tubbo" Tommy piped up "Tubbo's here". Tubbo nodded "I am!".

Wilbur was looking confusedly at him now. Oh, he hadn't spoken up yet, had he?

"So you just... left me? Willingly?" he seemed heartbroken, and Tommy couldn't leave with himself if he let him believe that. "I didn't leave you, I just took some time to rest". "That's what leaving is, Tommy" Wilbur remarked. "Oh, then yeah, I did. But they have Tubbo and showers, you have a scorpion infestation, like, come on. Can you really blame me here?"

Wilbur thought about it for one moment, then finally he sighed and shook his head "But you'll still visit?". Tommy nodded enthusiastically "Right now!". Wilbur smiled "Well then alright".

#ladycatland ask #dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #tommyinnit #'long post'