#gods I wish I knew how to do pottery

[hxnguxng-jxn]

𝐗𝐢𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐧 × 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 × 𝐇𝐮𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐠

Synopsis ― Oh, the irony of three people hiding their identity from one another, and yet knowing exactly who each other are. And sleeping in one bed as well, it can get very cramped.

Info on Reader: Reader is intended to be AMAB, Reader is intended to be a Martial God (but can be a Civil God that knows a thing or two) and one of Xie Lian's close friends/confidants, Reader does not express his opinion on Hua Cheng (just wary), and Reader is in a robe of some sort (to pass as a Taoist Priest with Xie Lian) and the body is not the original/is camouflaged (hiding the true self, like Hua Cheng with San Lang).

Info on Timeline: Post-Ghost Bride, and San Lang just started to stay to fix up the place. The Reader stayed around to watch over Xie Lian, Xie Lian encouraged this.

Fujoshis do not interact. || Enjoy!

HuaLian × Male!God!Reader | Sleeping Arrangements, Night One

Nightfall in the valley of a mountain can be cold and the winds harsh during the later seasons, but Xie Lian had truly found a small piece of paradise that surrounded itself in foliage and hills just right to carry wind away from the rickety temple. The windows weren't fully covered and only paper thin blinds on a nail were keeping passersby from being able to watch them at night, but you knew it wasn't what was outside that left you feeling exposed and open. That feeling was something of an unknown new person in this temple, burning your throat and chest with his overwhelming presence at times.

The feeling was San Langーthe young man Xie Lian met on the road home from a supply runーstaring right up at you as you tried to sleep upon the straw mat Xie Lian had for a bed in this place. You could feel the blood orange eyes upon your sleeping face, piercing your meridians with aura alone, as you measured your breaths to keep your facade of slumber up.

These signs of distrust on San Lang's part for you hadn't been present in the last few hours, and you almost forgot there was a stranger in this beat-up home with you and Xie Lian. During sunset, your dinner preparation had been interrupted by a horse-drawn carriage, an acupunctured villager, and a new local being offered your limited resources. Needless to say you had scolded Xie Lian for his carelessness in bringing in another mouth to feed: you could continue to practice inedia for tonight, but with how long he's gone without food, Xie Lian would have to indulge your cooking... and you really hadn't made much to begin with. Your edible resources (or lack thereof) could give away you both were more than you seemed, but thankfully San Lang wasn't hungry and departed for the night before your scolding had begun.

San Lang had been rather cordial yet charming at his departure last night, but had been quite a bit of a pain to you this morning when he showed up. He seemed so smitten with Xie Lian, you have half a mind to think this mischievous behavior was payback for lecturing Xie Lian so late last night...

Yet, time passes, and morning turns to night. And the dreaded question of sleeping arrangements comes up as San Lang wishes to stay.

Xie Lian had put away the pottery he had collected as he noticed the time just after you did. "Yes, I could go to sleep as well, San Lang. Let us just get... the..."

You and Xie Lian both have the expressions of surprise, dread, and embarrassment thrown at each other as it dawned onto you both; you had neglected to make another mat for yourself today as you had planned, and your only one would have to do.

After all you had suspected of San Lang throughout the last night with Xie Lian, you didn't exactly expect him to stay the night. But San Lang―true name and identity unknown―didn't look put off or displeased with your breaking news at all. If anything, the smile on his face only grew into something smug before disappearing back into something more soothing.

It was far from soothing...

There had been a bit of true peace between you three shortly after you all laid upon the mat. You had been first to choose without the other two really getting a say and you ended up taking the center and laying upon your back, at least trying not take up too much space. It was a safe and smart idea for yourself, you justified, when you believed San Lang had some sort of interest in Xie Lian. With how he clung to his side since simply meeting him yesterday, you thought Xie Lian a target of some sort.

But now, with the young man breathing down your neck and shoulders, you wonder if you had been lured in. San Lang had laid down like he had a purpose on your right, and you can tell he was far from displeased as he rolled into his side to basically lay his ear on your shoulder. His excuse of the wall being so close for fear of hitting his head or back had been smart, but it didn't really ease your skyrocketing senses as you became sensitive to his vitals.

Human breathe. Body heat. Stable heartbeat. You can feel all of this on your shoulder and arm, and you can tell whatever disguise this might be... was very good.

San Lang's smug smile flashed just briefly again, while Xie Lian was taking off his working boots and had his eyes everted.

...

... You knew San Lang had been too happy to lay upon your right side against the wall, practically smug as he laid on his side to face you and Xie Lian fully...

After he was finished, Xie Lian had laid upon the outside―your left―and had done so on his back like you had, likely as well for his paranoia, but you couldn't tell with that radiant smile. The Scrap God gave you both a sheepish laugh as he turned to you two then, uttering a, "I'm very sorry it's cramped. We'll make sure to accommodate you properly in the morning, San Lang."

San Lang, draped on your arm in the image of an alluring beauty from erotic paintings, seemed pleased where he lay, "I'm very sorry for the intrusion. I'll make sure to pull my weight in the morning, as I am the guest."

In their discussion back and forth about repayment for room and board, you had quickly become obsolete after they brought back the topic of what happened last night, and you had deemed the situation handled and closed your eyes as they talked over you. You were unsure if you were able to make your body rest and simulate sleep while San Lang was on you, but Xie Lian's presence alone had seemed to temper whatever the other felt towards you, and you took this chance to try.

Try, was a brave word.

And sadly, it seemed only Xie Lian had any luck at his attempt to rest.

For now, the other God was asleep as far as you could tell, and had rolled over to face you and San Lang, body just shy of fully draping over your last remaining arm (you couldn't care anyways, your arms had strong meridians flowing and wouldn't go numb with weight alone). But you did notice the absurdity of both your bedmates laying upon you just shy of when you could feel a strong, overpowering gaze tracing your... everything.

San Lang, it seems, won't go to sleep so easily as well. If he even could.

You could feel your aura flair, and the air just slightly too still for your liking. You weren't prey, because you'd never allow yourself to be so vulnerable, but then what was this inaction? Did you fear that unknown person against your clavicle? Or were you anticipating something unknown to your perception of him to happen... ? Did you expect to wake up suddenly and see San Lang passed out, fast asleep and huddled to the wall?

You can feel the warm breath of San Lang (should a ghost's breath be so warm as to make your skin so heat?) slow just slightly, before it stops. You're sure he's doing it on purpose to tease you, before the next time a breath washes your neck, a whispered voice carries with it.

"My, you're a terrible liar..." San Lang sounded amused. "You're so stiff in your sleep, I almost thought you dead. You're basically grabbing onto him. I expected better from you..."

You wanted to open your eyes and give a soft glare at the crimson wearing man, to ask him what he meant and to try and unpack the statement you'd just heard. But you didn't have time to process how you were going to go about this, much less how to not wake Xie Lian beside you, when movement on your far left side gained your focus.

Xie Lian was awake? When a hand you hadn't felt on your robes suddenly gripped it just a tad bit too hard right above your stomach, you knew it couldn't be anyone else. San Lang's own hand against your arm told you who it must be, so far to your left an inverted grip on you was a dead giveaway to it being Xie Lian's. But why was it balling up your robes so protectively?

The callused, yet gentle hand gripping your robes led to a soft, familiar voice answering back to San Lang. The whisper said, "I did not lie. I simply said I was going to bed... I didn't say I'd sleep." He sounded more sheepish then offended, perhaps knowing somewhere inside him this was a useless debate.

"Yes, you did." San Lang laughs lightly, sounding very assured of this. And he was right. "But what I'm really talking about was what you said about your... roommate here."

"What did I say about him? I will be honest, I talked... a lot, today. You make it so easy to just talk." Xie Lian's expression at the moment didn't come to your mind, as his tone was inquisitive. His tone was far from harsh, but that grip on your robes was something harsh.

San Lang didn't seem the type of man to allow flattery to get anywhere with him, not even your earlier compliments on how effective he was at cutting wood had affected him. But San Lang seemed to have a soft spot for Xie Lian, and any compliment was basically soaked up like water to dry soil. This seemed to be no different, even if you couldn't see their faces.

"Why thank you, I try really hard." It sounded like he actually did enjoy that compliment, from how smug he sounded. "But about him, I meant what you said during the ghost march... how your roommate was just some nobody just like you. At first, I could see it. Now, I don't buy it."

You would have held your breath if your body wasn't already in the rhythm of a fake-slumber. You can feel a familiar hand from San Lang's side of the bed, one previously upon your arm, come up to cup your chin in a feather gentle touch.

"I think you said something about both of you just meeting each other a short while ago, deciding to settle here because of your shared interest." The touch was chaste yet steady against your skin, and you can feel light callouses on the tips of his fingers. "From how you act, I couldー"

Just as the hand feels like it was about to start dragging itself across your jaw, you feel another hand reach to grab at it and mostly jostled it from where it holds you. But something so forceful was not expected and you jumped at the clap right below your chin. Nothing had hit you, but damn was it close.

You guess that was enough spying for one tonight.

Opening your eyes as your facade of sleep could no longer be believable, you are met with both of the joined hands and the faces of your two bedmates noticing your awake. The look between them before they focused on you was one of pleading (Xie Lian) and searching (San Lang), and then Xie Lian regarded you fully with a sheepish expression.

"I'm so sorry, my friend, we seemed to have woken you up..." Xie Lian's face heats right on his cheek bones, and you can tell he didn't want you seeing him like this. "San Lang... just needed his shoes, it was getting cold."

San Lang himself just rolled off of you to lay upon his back―seemingly not carrying of the wall right at his side―but his slightly smug smile did not wipe as he flipped back. He didn't say anything; he didn't agree or disagree with Xie Lian's statement, leaving the Scrap God to make up the excuse.

You can tell your face showed it did not believe him, when he coughed awkwardly into his sleeve. And San Lang let out a small belly laugh at the quiet that follows.

#Heaven Official's Blessing #Tian Guan Ci Fu #TGCF #Reader Insert #Male Reader #HuaLian #HuaLian x Reader #HuaLian x Male Reader #Xie Lian #Hua Cheng #San Lang #Xie Lian x Reader #Xie Lian x Male Reader #Hua Cheng x Reader #Hua Cheng x Male Reader #San Lang x Reader #San Lang x Male Reader

[teddyhoneybear]

A promise for the future

~Elain Archeron x Lucien Vanserra~

AO3

Words: 5,054

🌸@bettdraws 's post about Elucien doing pottery together inspired me to write this.

🌸I decided to make its own post instead of a reblog. (no words have been changed)

🌷🍃

Fed up with just sitting in the kitchen or in the garden, or taking care of her nephew, Elain decided to sign up for a pottery class, somewhere in Velaris near Feyre's studio. After all, it never bothered her to get her hands a little dirty, on the contrary, she hoped that this activity would ground her. And a little socializing never hurt.

But any hope that pottery would loosen her up was destroyed when their teacher appeared in class with sure but elegant moves.

That red hair, long, with a singular thin braid placed behind a pointed ear, decorated with gold earrings. A feminine trait in her human world, a thing from her past, one she would have found strange in a man, but now... it was the only thing Elain could think of when she saw him and she didn't know why it fascinated her so much. Why it enticed her. How she silently wished she could braid his hair herself, at least once in her long lifetime.

A white dress shirt covered his golden torso, a few buttons undone, a detail that didn't let her breathe. Some simple trousers, tied with a thick belt in the middle, which showed off his narrow waist, tucked into some high riding boots.

Elain didn't know what was worse. The see-through material, his exposed chest, or that she has never seen him dressed so casual. Free of all those layers of material that made him look like the son of a high lord. He seemed dishevelt, in comparison to what she knew him to be. And to her horror, she liked it. It made her... curious. And it also made him look so free. Open. Even vulnerable, she thought. In his own element.

Naturally, his eyes fell directly on her from the moment he entered the room. Mate. Touch her. Smell her. Taste her. His eyebrows rose at the sight and for a moment Lucien froze. Elain was here. In front of him. In all her splendor, with those big brown eyes that looked at him with unusual attention. Sitting on a chair, like everyone else, perhaps even smaller than the rest, and yet the sun's rays seemed to fall only on her. They seemed to caress her cheeks, as if any living or unliving thing in this world thought it was right to love her. To cherish her. To drown in her sweetness. Just like he wished he could. Maybe one day, he dared to hope.

Elain had gotten used to hearing his heartbeat, though it still felt strange. What she still hadn't gotten used to was that their hearts seemed to beat in unison every time they looked at each other. As if they were only one.

It was too intimate for her, extremely romantic in a way. And she knew that Lucien has always noticed the gorgeous shade of pink that stained her cheeks everytime it happened, though he didn't know the exact cause. What could possibly make his mate blush so beautifully?

Although time seemed to stay still, only Elain and Lucien stopped breathing as they looked at each other in shock. The others noticed too, looking at them curiously. Could they see the thread connecting them, or smell their bond? Elain's eyes widened, and her shoulders hunched inward, like a bud not yet ready to bloom. Not under the notice of these strangers.

Lucien frowned slightly, seeming to notice his mate's inner conflict, and with a clap of his hands and a clear of his voice, he managed to draw the attention of all the faes to him, breaking the moment between them, one of secrecy. He'd love to see his flower bloom, like no other, one so lovely that will surely steal everyone's breath. Only when she's ready, he thought.

"Good morning, everyone. I see quite a few of us have gathered today." He said with a winning smile. "Good." He added as he brought his palms together observing them all.

Gods, what a disaster she got herself into. Since when did Lucien give pottery lessons? Or rather, since when did he know how to potter? Elain pressed her lips together in a thin line, trying to hide her multiple thoughts. Such mistake. And so easy to avoid. She wanted to get out of the house so much that she didn't even bother to check the name of the teacher in this class.

She shook her head, cursing herself as Lucien started talking about what they were going to do today, something she wasn't even interested in anymore. All she wanted to do was get up and leave. But she was a stickler for discretion, so how could she cause such a scene? It would have been too obvious, too scandalous.

Affected or not by her presence, Lucien Vanserra showed no sign after that moment, continuing to talk about pottery techniques, having in front of him a piece of clay that he would mold, just like the rest.

She wasn't ready when Lucian started to roll up his sleeves, revealing muscular forearms, protruding veins that ran down to the back of his hands like snakes, ready to strike her poor heart. She gulped, rather loudly, an old female to her right giving her a worried look. She almost felt guilty for the wild thoughts trying to enter her mind. Trying. This wasn't like herself. No. It was that damned mating bond. Its fault she sometimes would think of Lucien in such a depraved way. So utterly graceless. She gripped the edges of the chair hard, so hard it started to creak, trying to restrain herself, at least to look away. And if the female to her right wasn't that worried, she sure was now, frowning at Elain's gesture. Yet, she gave her a sympathetic smile, noticing her trembling hands and putting two and two together, probably aware of her rather difficult situation. Was it that obvious? Elain smiled back apologetically.

She almost gasped when Lucien took a ball of clay and slapped it down on the table, slicing it in half with a wire clay cutting tool. He flipped the top half upside down and slapped it down hard onto the bottom half. Repeatedly. Now the old lady was blushing. This was not happening.

"We usually repeat this process as many times as it takes until the clay is smooth, consistent, and air bubble free." he said with astonishing certainty, as if he had been doing this his entire existence. Another slap. Elain flinched. The female in front of her shifted in her chair.

"Be sure to slap the clay down hard to prevent air from getting trapped between the two pieces." he added. Another slap. Elain inhaled sharply. She forgot how many times he slapped that unlucky clay. But his heavy breathing suggested the number was quite high.

He began pushing the ball forward and downward into the table, finding a steady rhythm, his arms flexing, muscles popping from under his golden skin. Elain could swear someone giggled. This was not how her day was supposed to go.

After some time, they all did the same, following his instructions. But all she could focus on was his chest rising and falling with each breath. He was almost grunting.

A drop of sweat tickled the back of her neck. Why was this stupid sun shining so bright and why only on her?

"This is a great opportunity to check the consistency of the clay. Run your finger across the surface. It should be smooth." he instructed as he slowly ran his hand over the even clay. So slow it looked like a caress. A female sighed.

"It should have an even color." he smiled while observing it, saying something about how dark stripes usually imply dryer areas of clay, but she wasn't sure. It was impossible to pay attention. Her eyes followed the movements of his lips, but his voice was muffled. Elain could only hear her own pulse ringing in her ears. She felt dizzy.

"It should have no holes caused by air bubbles. If it isn't perfect, keep wedging. This is the foundation for your beautiful ceramic pot." he finished talking, all of them having the clay stuck to the wheel. Lucien seemed so enthusiastic to teach the art of pottery to others, that Elain actually felt guilty. God, what was she doing?

"Now the fun begins! Get your hands wet and place them on the clay." He pressed the pedal, then dipped his beautiful hands in water and started shaping it. Elain couldn't help but notice how gentle his movements were, yet so precise, and wondered if Lucien was the same with a female. And from the reactions of the others in class, it was clear she wasn't the only one thinking of this.

She dared her eyes to wander around, noticing every female's attention on Lucien. One. Two. Three...

Females. Only females.

What in the...

Elain's heart had begun to pound and her head had begun to move in all directions, but there was no trace of male.

Was Lucien even aware of this? She was beginning to doubt that these females had come here to learn pottery. And something in her stirred. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair for him. It was obvious how devoted he was to the subject, and no one in this class was giving him the proper attention. Not even her...

It saddened Elain. No. It infuriated her. How dare they? How dare they use the poor male in such sinful ways? It was outrageous.

Elain took a deep breath, shaking off any worries about today, about being in the same room with the male and even the rage that lingered in her, for what is just or not.

She had come here to unwind after all, and she wasn't so cowardly as to leave. So, like everyone else, she moistened her hands, turned on the pottery wheel and timidly, began to gently press the clay with her palms. The process immediately relaxed her, reminding her of the soft soil she always sank her hands into after planting flower seeds. It made her smile, her cheeks resembling two peony petals, and Lucien noticed. He had noticed how a few golden-brown curls covered her face as she leaned slightly over the pottery wheel with a slight frown or how she bit her lower lip in concentration. And that powder pink dress didn't help his case. The gold embroidery seemed to sparkle in the light, making her stand out even more. A fawn basking in the heat of the sun. A bud reaching for light, thriving in it. She was remarkable. Lucien sighed, that ache in his chest coming back. Their bond was peeking shyly, curiously, as if to see what is going on between them.

This morning has been strange anyway, Lucien sensing unusual moods from her down the bond. And so many of them. All at once. He checked her at times, only to find her sitting still in her chair, white as snow. Different from others. He too was surprised to see her, after all, but was she not enjoying the class? Was his presence so troublesome for her? He didn't dare think, as it made him sick to his core.

He chose to continue what he had to do, going to every fae, advising with their piece of clay, sometimes even engaging, shaping and molding, smiling and even cracking some light jokes with each and everyone of them.

Stalling. He was stalling. He tried to leave the hardest part for the end. His mate. Every beat of his heart was singing in an increasingly alert rhythm, and he knew damn well that the unbloomed flower in the back of the class could tell. Because she looked at him. Just for a fraction of a second. In his eyes.

He had noticed her doe eyes lingering on every part of him today, like every other female. But only hers made him want to soar. Only her attention made his heart flutter. But she vehemently avoided his gaze. Flinching every time they made eye contact. As if they burned her.

His smile was infectious and so charismatic. He seemed to integrate so easily among the faes. But she wasn't going to focus on that, nor on his beating heart, but on her mug. Or the poor attempt of it. She kept dipping her hands in water, and then gently pressing the edges of the mug, trying to round it, to smooth it. But there was only the old female between Lucien and Elain, and she knew she had no more time to perfect the mug. Neither the handle that wouldn't stick. A disaster. This was a disaster.

Anxiety ate at her, shyness coursing through her body, wondering what Lucien would think of her work. Of her.

In her garden she felt confident, sure of herself, able to name every flower or how to plant and grow it, and even when, in what soil or weather it would thrive. But here... Elain gulped and closed her eyes. Then she startled.

Cinnamon sticks. Crisp apples. Cedarwood and roasted chestnuts.

She didn't intend to do it, but she dug her nails into the soft clay, his presence making her squirm, making her knees weak. She thanked the Gods that she was sitting down.

Then she opened her eyes and gasped, her mug violated. Defiled. No. No. No.

"Don't worry, Lady. There is still time if you want to do another one." the red head male to her right said softly, his voice a soothing whisper. She didn't dare look at him, her eyes fixed on what was supposed to be the mug she wished she could drink her tea from every morning.

"Maybe I should keep it this way. It has the shape of my grip, after all." Elain mused, straightening her shoulders. Although she deflected from the little incident she had caused, Lucien's gesture did not go unnoticed. How he didn't judge what happened, staying diplomatic and finding ways to help. A true gentlemen, some would say.

Lucien chuckled and moved closer to her, his scent invading her nostrils. Autumn forest. Campfires. Apple pie. "Oh, I didn't mean its shape, lady. Your dainty hands made it prettier anyway. But it's the tiny holes I'm worried about." he said slowly, pointing with his long finger at the small dents in the clay and she noticed the grin in his voice, without having to look at him.

Elain immediately looked at the mug and the small holes punched by her fingernails. Her face drained of colour. Oh, damn him. Damn him for giving her a compliment and a low blow in the same sentence. Damn him for making her blush for the millionth time today.

"I didn't intend to drink from it anyway. Only use it for decoration." she said nonchalantly, waving a hand in the air, while keeping her head high.

Lucien could sense she was all but unbothered but kept it to himself, pursing his lips to hide his amusement. How sweet her mate was, even more so because she was flustered.

"Was it not supposed to be a mug?" he insisted, making Elain flare her nostrils in annoyance. "Or you intend to water the plants with it? It could work as a watering can." he suggested, leaning over her, pretending to get a better look at the mug. She huffed a laugh in response, but he ignored her, his eyes wandering over the handle that was not yet glued and Elain already knew what was going to come out of his mouth.

"Oh, it was definitely supposed to be-"

"Before you can say anything, I changed my mind. It will be a flour sifter." she cut him short, crossing her arms over her chest with a smug smile. A gentleman? Far from it. He was a piece of-

"There's no shame in admitting you've failed, Elain. Don't be afraid of it." he whispered in her ear, his warm breath warming the side of her neck. She drew in a deep breath, without releasing it. He had never been so close to her. He had never said her name. And God, how her name on his lips made her feel. So personal. So indecent. No formalities anymore? she asked herself.

Still behind her, he slowly gripped the edges of the work table, caging her in. Enveloping her in his scent. Suddenly, she was craving apple pie.

"Failure is a raw material of succes. And to compare your work to everyone else's, your mug would have been the best if you hadn't dug your nails into it." he said the last part with a breathy laugh. If anything else, Elaine felt more scolded than complimented, but his confession still surprised her. She quickly turned over her shoulder to face him, a retort readied on her lips. But before she could open her mouth, russet and gold met her eyes, paired with a proud smile. "I have never seen anyone molding clay so easily right from the first lesson. You're a natural, lady."

A soft strand of red hair touched her cheek. It tickled. She couldn't help the timid smile that formed on her lips. And Lucien couldn't help but look at them. So easy to touch. And taste.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Their hearts beat in sync. None of them looked at each other this close before.

Lucien was so astonished he didn't know where to look first, his eyes darting frantically to every part of her small face, afraid he'll never get this chance ever again. And Elain took in his sharp and elegant features and could look at nothing but his scar, a sign of courage and strength, and that golden eye that made strange noises. What did it see? How did it see her?

The moment didn't last long, Lucien seeming to wake up from his trance, rather displeased with her gaze fixed on his false eye. His blinked, only now aware of their proximity, and he stepped back, just a little, looking at the mug. "Well, it's not perfect, but with the proper guidance you could become an expert in no time." he winked at her and she scoffed, almost rolling her eyes. Oh, Lucien would give a lot of money to see this Archeron sister in particular doing that. In other circumstances. More personal. Much more personal.

But her face fell. "To be honest, I was going to drink my tea out of it." her words had a hint of disappointment in them.

The tone of her voice saddened him, and Lucien frowned a little. His mate. He wanted her to be happy. Always.

So he took her small hands in his, still covered in dried clay, rubbing his thumbs over her skin. Tenderly. Carefully. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but to soothe her. "There is still time." his warm voice was a caress to her ears. So kind, that goodness flowed from it.

Elain nodded, seeming to relax under his careful touch, watching him prepare the clay for her, ready to guide her on how to shape it better this time.

"We have to be generous with the water. We don't want our hands to stick to it, do we?" he smiled again and dipped his hands in the water, Elain doing the same. It felt like he was almost hugging her, his arms on either side of her body, his chin almost resting on top of her head. And to her surprise, it felt good. Pleasant. Calming. Safe.

She ignored the little devil on the string that connected them, peeking again, eager for more.

"May I?" he dared to ask, a serious look on his face, one of pure concentration. And Elain let him. Let Lucien guide her hands over the soft clay, his palms twice the size of hers. He seemed so strong. So manly. And he definetly was. He fought in a war after all. But Elain never dared look at him that way. Not until today.

She now had a better view of his bare forearms, the prominent veins and tendons dancing beneath his golden skin, mesmerizing her. Hypnotising her.

Other females seemed to be watching and something in her had awakened. Triumph. A smug smile appeared on her face. Since when did she become so possessive, especially over something like this?

🍃

The back of her hands were soft as he held them, guiding them. So velvety. So delicate and small. Lucien felt so tormented to have her so close. He was afraid that at the end of class he wouldn't be able to let her go. Gods, how he wanted to pull her closer to his chest, to squeeze her tight, to love her dearly.

He tried to ignore her scent. Jasmine and honey. Such a concentrated perfume now that he was so close to her. Intoxicating.

He even dared to fully rest his chin on her head, tilting his head forward to get a better look at the pottery wheel. His lips lightly touched her hair and he smiled involuntarily. How he wanted to kiss her.

"Now using the fingers of your right hand pull the clay open into a bowl." the reverberation of his voice made her shudder. They pressed their thumbs into the clay together, making a hole in it. "Now... for the floor of the pot." he whispered, as if even a sound could spoil the final result. With the pottery wheel spinning slowly, he pressed her hands down on the floor of the pot using a sponge. "Gently..." his deep voice was a mere murmur behind her.

And then with careful movemets, they made the pot taller, a mix of limbs, wet skin sliding, fingers intertwined. He made a "C" shape with his left hand. Then his fingers were inside the pot, thumb on the outside. He drizzled some water over the rim using the same sponge. "Starting at the bottom of the wall, squeeze your thumb and fingers gently together through the clay." he tutored her, but she was far gone. Elain was somewhere else entirely when she squeezed the bulge of clay, and her mind had the audacity to wander, the wheels spinning in her head.

And then she realized with pure dread that the clay's color was close to Lucien's skin tone. Too close. The shape didn't help. Oh, no. It didn't help at all.

She felt sick and didn't know if she was breathing at the realisation. She wasn't sure of the steps he was talking about or what they meant, even if they seemed important.

"Good. For the thinning... " he continued with the next step. "We'll use both hands now." A blur. His words were distant and all she could see were her hands sliding up or down under his supervision, doing all kinds of techniques whose names she had already forgotten.

He told her to very slowly bring her hands up the side of the pot, to press gently into the wall. Then something about leaving the rim a bit thicker to add support to the walls. But all she could think about was apples and cinnamon. Fire crackling. Heat.

Her skin was so hot, her face so red. Her dress felt too tight around her chest.

Gods, doing this together with him... It felt so sensual, so erotic. And if they were somewhere else now, you could even say she was doing something else. To him. For him.

"Be sure to keep the walls wet inside and out."

Pause. She blinked. Wait, what?

Silence. Even the birds stopped chirping. That might have been the last straw for poor Elain.

Goosebumps formed on her skin. And he seemed to have noticed because he stopped. Just for a moment.

His heart began to beat faster. But who cared? Hers was beating so hard that her pulse has become a continuous ringing. She pressed her knees together, afraid something would unleash inside her.

Lucien exhaled loudly. "If you need a break, lady..." he had started to say, worried or flustered, she couldn't tell.

Elain shook her head rather aggressively. Too close. He was too close. "It's just that pottery requires a lot of concentration and it's rather hot in here. That's all." she said dismissively, going back to work.

Oh, it was hot, Lucien thought. But not the temperature, but the subtle change in her scent. Vanilla. Something homely. Welcoming. Still honey, but sweeter. So sweet he could almost taste it on his tongue. Rich and inviting. Mouth-watering.

He had realised now why his blossom was so pale at the beginning of class. Not afraid of him, but of herself around him.

It made him smirk and raise his eyebrow. His pants were begining to feel tighter than usual.

🍃

Elain lost track of time, going back to shaping her mug, while breathing slowly.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Never in her life did she think pottery involved so much touching or wetting the skin.

Inhale. Slowly. Keep it there. One. Two. Three.

Good. Now exhale.

Elain frowned. Something smelled different. Him. Oh-

It smelled like boiling apples. Like someone set some cinnamon sticks on fire.

Dahlias. Oh! Pansies. She loved pansies. Dried leaves?

"Lady?"

Walnuts. Quinces. Nutmeg and even ginger.

She leaned back, closing her eyes and humming. She was definitely going to bake an apple pie when she got home.

"Uhm... Lady?"

A slice of warm apple pie after such a long day would be perfect. With its flaky, buttery crust; tart-sweet apples, and wonderful cinnamon-y aroma.

Her appetite for him, the starvation... It was torture.

She licked her dried lips. Why was she so thirsty?

"Elain." Lucien's stern voice woke her. She jolted. Then looked up, warily, his eyes glancing at her inquisitively.

"You can stop the wheel." he sneered, glancing at her foot pressed on the pedal.

Elain pulled her leg back so quickly she fell backwards into Lucien's arms, a sound escaping his chest on impact. His arms wrapped around her immediately, steadying her.

Her blood ran cold.

She just got drunk in his scent.

Like an addict.

Elain was so bewildered, she didn't notice his hands resting on her waist. Hands that encircled her almost completely.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me." she mumbled confused and shamefaced. Lucien could barely hear her voice.

But he smelled so deliciously and she didn't know why. What was with this change in his smell? So divine. It was impossible for her not to relax in his embrace, to let herself be carried away. And she was tired. So tired of avoiding him, of running away from that devilish bond. Of fighting back all the time.

"There is no reason to apologise, petal. Especially for this." his full lips touched her earlobe, and his hot breath sent shivers down her spine. His only braid tickled her cheek and she wished she could touch it. It was so soft. So silky.

He was aware of her inner torment and he knew so well what it felt like for her. The longing, the pain, that indescribable need. Almost feral. Wild.

Their bond purred in response, almost victorious at their closeness.

It terrified her how much she needed him. He was well aware now.

"We only have to cut the mug from the wheel, and add the handle." he said, trying to distract her from the distress caused by the mating bond. Or maybe he was trying to distract himself from it, from their arousal combined. Oh, how he craved her like air.

“I'll let it dry and give it to you when it's ready. You can even paint it if you want." he let her go, walking to the other side of the pottery wheel to finish her mug.

Now that he was sitting in front of her, Elain could only sit back in silence and watch him work. She hadn't even realized when it was just the two of them in the room. And she wasn't going to ask, even though she felt guilty that he was staying past schedule for her.

He always did that, it seemed. Putting her first.

She sighed, regret filling her whole. She wasn't that indifferent and noticed how he often looked at her. Not with hunger, but yearning. Longing. It sometimes made him look like he was mourning. Grieving over their abandoned bond.

Lucien noticed her starring and only said "It's almost ready." with a faint voice, attaching the beautifully crafted handle. It was the shape of a leaf. Simple, yet meaningful. To her.

Elain kept fidgeting, rubbing off dry clay from her hands. How pitiful, she thought, that he might think she wanted to leave this place as soon as possible. How unfortunate. Because at first she was, but now... Something inside Elain urged her to stay. It was almost begging her. Pleading.

She broke the silence.

"I really wish I could make a sprinkler next time." she said shyly, giving him the warmest, sweetest smile she had. He deserved at least that from her. "I can never find one with a comfortable handle." her soft chuckle filled the room and birds sang with her. For her.

Everytime Elain dared to smile, nature seemed to purr, thriving in her joy. And sun was warming her rosy cheeks again. Even the flowers in the pots seemed attracted to her, elongating their stem towards her. Wishing to bloom even more.

Lucien only gaped at her, eyes wide with wonder. Next time. She just tried to make conversation. With him. And just like that, that ache in his chest diminished. She will come again.

His eyes softened at the sight of her. A bud ready to bloom. Maybe not today, not even tomorrow. But her small gesture was a promise for the future. For something more. Lucien allowed himself to hope. He'll give himself that luxury.

"Ah, maybe the holes in the first mug really were intentional." he teased, revealing his sharp teeth and that ravishing smile.

Elain only giggled at first, then her eyes peered at her ruined mug and they both burst out laughing.

Yes, perhaps he might dare to hope.

🌷🍃

#acotar #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien #pro elucien #pro elain #pro lucien vanserra #elain x lucien #acotar elain #acotar series #pro elain archeron #lucien x elain #elain acotar #elucien fanfiction #elain and lucien #lucien and elain #lucien acotar #pottery #mating bond #fated mates #mates

[cocogrrrl]

Hiii! I hope your enjoying your vacay! I was wondering if you could do kinda like a best friends to lovers Kyle x fem reader :)

passenger in the rain

so what are you gonna do about your impending feelings for your best friend, kyle broflovski?

kyle broflovski x female!reader (best friends to lovers), one sided kenny x reader also no cws wc: 2720

an: thank u anon btw! have a version of this completely different but also finished version of the req! its just angstier and a little longer (it shares some of the same scenes as this one though) lmk if u guys wanna see it ^^ although i don't think its as strong lol

Lingering stares, random reminders of him, and hesitance. That’s what it feels like to be in love with your best friend, Kyle.

“So, how was I back there?” Kyle beamed, all covered in sweat in his jersey. He was practicing with his team for an upcoming basketball game, and he asked you to watch him—be his support, you know? Right now, he was on break.“Do you think the strategy was good? Was one of us doing a bit too much?”

To be honest, you were kinda just looking at Kyle the whole time, inattentive to what he or his team was doing. You were struck by the way his curly hair bounced when he’d make runs and jumps across the court and the way he still look so suave even if, god, he was sweaty.

“Kyle, I don’t think I’m the right person you should be asking these types of questions about. I really don’t know the game works.” You replied, scratching your head.

“Really? YN, we've known each other for years. Ergo, I’m pretty sure I’ve tried teaching you how it works hundreds of times already.”

“And each time, I fail to understand anything. I don’t even know the system for deductions, let alone strategizing a good game.”

“Oh, what would I do without you?”

“You’d be asking a person with proper input on your game right now.”

He clicked his tongue, nodding at your statement. “I agree. You’re very much correct for that.”

“I know I am. I am as interested in sports as you are in my hobbies.”

“And what exactly are your hobbies?”

“...Pottery?” You answered, unsure of yourself as well.

“That’s bullshit! I’m pretty sure you were, like, eleven the last time you did pottery.”

“Actually, I did pottery last week with my cousin, genius.” You said a hand pointed up in an ‘um actually’ manner as well.

“Uhuh, and who picked out the venue and activity?”

“...Them.”

“Knew it.”

You pouted, crossing your arms and giving him a light-hearted little ‘hmph!’ at him. “To be fair, I still was pretty good even after years of not doing it.”

“Mhm.” He smiled, rolling his eyes. “Anyways, gotta go. Coach’s calling. Are you down to hang out after practice?”

“Hell yeah.” You nodded.

“Alright, I think this is the last round. I’ll change after, then I’m all yours.” He said, running off to his game after.

That last part stuck with you. ‘I’m all yours.’ As fucking if. You wished it was true, though, definitely. There was no denying that, to yourself at least, you had a huge crush on your best friend. Why would he like you, though? He’s seen you at your worst. Why would anyone like you after they’ve seen that?

You were just glad to even be his best friend still. You weren’t taking the risk of ruining a gem of a friendship at this moment, though.  You were seated in the bleachers, all your focus on Kyle as he shone in the sea of players. For now, you’ll just have to be a passenger in the rain—waiting for a random train to lead you to an unknown place.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You really shouldn’t be having feelings for Kyle. Well, you could and you did, but god, did you hate it. You loathed, detested, and abhorred the feeling of falling in love with him—mainly because you hated dealing with your feelings.

It feels so embarrassing to be so head over heels for your best friend and try to cover it up as well. The “what-ifs” of what could and would happen if he found out freaked you out. Would he be cool about it? Probably not. It would be super awkward, and he’d try to play it off, but it’d be too much to bear, and you two would eventually stop being friends. That’s what you think would happen, at least.

Stupid feelings aren’t worth risking for worthwhile, maybe lifetime, happiness.

Then again, you enjoyed where you were right now—in Kyle’s bed beside him. He was completely knocked out, and his jaw was slightly agape, with the softest of snores filling the dead of the room. The sun gently shone on his face, causing him to look a lot warmer than he actually was—since his body temperature was normally cold even during the heat of the summer.

It felt almost saccharine, almost as if you were already together, if not for the fact that there was a barrier to what extent you could stay like this. Maybe you could just play pretend for a bit in moments like these. You sighed at the thought, lifting yourself from the sheets to go fix your bedhead appearance up.

When you got back after tidying yourself up, you were greeted with a disheveled-looking Kyle already awoken. He looked all groggy, with him rubbing his eyes while his poofy hair was flattened on one side. “Good morning…” He croaked out.

“Mornin’.” You tipped your head and smiled, leaning on the door frame. “You look like you slept well.”

“Sure did,” he yawned, stretching out. “What time is it?”

“I believe it is twelve-thirty PM.” You replied, checking the time of your phone. You were right. It was 12:37 PM.

“Shit, really?”

You nodded. “Why?

“I gotta pick up Ike from his friend’s place around two. He has this group project thing. Mom and Dad’s attending a friend’s wedding today, so they dropped him off earlier this morning.”

“You want someone to come along with you?” You hummed, checking your phone to see if you were busy today. To your delight, you weren’t. 

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna worry your parents or anything.” 

“Nah,” you beamed, finding yourself smiling at his worry for your parents. Despite the fact that you two have known each other for nearly forever, therefore you two were always hanging out together, he still was always worried about your parents getting upset. “I’ll just tell them that I’ll be with you for a little bit more.” You added, texting them already.

“Alright, thanks. I’ll go get ready,” he said, grabbing some clothes as he headed to the door—where you were. “Wanna kill time and get coffee later? We still got a little over an hour before we pick Ike up.”

“Definitely.” You grinned. “Can I borrow a shirt, by the way? I forgot to bring some extra clothes. I only have pajamas. I’ll re-wear my pants.”

“Oh, sure, go ahead.” He nodded, already out of the room, but his back turned to seemingly tell you something. “By the way, you left your skirt last time you stayed here. Mom washed it, I’m pretty sure. It’s in my closet, separated from the rest of my clothes.”

“Ah, alright.” You nodded. “Thanks, Kyle.” 

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You and Kyle were currently lined up in the coffee shop, Tweek Bros. Coffeehouse, actually. You were near the front of the line. Kyle, behind you, was scrolling through his phone as you patiently waited for your turn.

On the way, Kyle insisted it would be his treat—which you fought strongly against. You were embarrassed that he’d pay for something rather small like coffee. You were embarrassed whenever he’d offer to pay for anything at all. Or do anything for you, as a matter of fact. You gave up, though, and he said it was his thank you for accompanying him.

“Next!” Your schoolmate, Tweek, called out. You ushered yourself to the front of the line, Kyle right beside you as you two stood in the front.

“Oh, hello, YN, Kyle.” He greeted, flinching. You and Kyle returned a simple nod and waved to him. “What can I—Ack!—get you today?”

“I’ll have one flat white, and I think Kyle’s order is a cortado, but half the milk and replaced by almond milk instead.” You hummed, leaning closer to him to whisper something. “Lactose intolerant.” You murmured to Tweek, pointing at the boy beside you.

Leaning back, you looked at Kyle for his approval. “Am I correct?” 

“First of all, the whole world doesn’t need to know I’m lactose,” he breathed out, rolling his eyes. “Second of all, I’m surprised you know my order.” He chuckled, handing you the money.

Embarrassment crept up on your cheeks. Why did you know Kyle’s order? I mean, yeah you like him, and you’re also his best friend, but that really doesn’t mean anything! …Right?

“Duh, you’re my friend!” You replied, handing Tweek the money—after which you and Kyle walked around the cafe to find a seat.

“Do you know Wendy, Marj, or even Bebe’s order?” He raised a brow.

“Of course! It’s, uh,” you paused, trying to recall the order. “Joke. I don’t think I know.”

“Yeah? So you somehow know my order?”

“Well, it’s because I spend my time with you the most. I’m bound to know your order.” You said, motioning to a table with two free seats by the window. You two sat down.

“Uhuh,” he replied sarcastically. “And you haven’t been following me around when I get coffee in the morning—”

“—Before 7:30, so there’s still extra time.” You both said at the same time.

“Yeah, actually, I think the reason why I know your order is because you’ve said it a good few times for me to remember it as a part of your morning schedule.”

“That would make sense, but I don’t think I’ve ever told you my morning schedule.”

“What?”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Still in the coffee shop, just many moments later, Kyle spoke up. “So, how are you and Kenny?” Kyle asked, scrolling through his phone as he took a sip from his drink.

Kenny is someone you used to like. You used to like him a month ago. God, you would’ve given a world to him, but nothing ever really came of you two. Talking stage, then nothing more. When you realized your feelings for Kyle a couple of weeks ago, everything changed. It’s like a switch inside you flipped, making you have zero attraction for him anymore.

Bitterness tainted your tongue with the question, and you rolled your eyes in reply—though, to your favor, he didn’t catch that. “There’s nothing between us, Kyle. He hasn’t asked me out, I haven’t asked him out either. It’s just a whole bunch of nothingness.”

“Really? Why don’t you take the risk?” He hummed.

“I’m not feeling it.” Liar. 

“That’s what you say about everything else, though.” He huffed.

“Yeah? Well, if something happens, then it happens. I’m taking things my own way.” You yawned. “Besides, you’ve never even got in a relationship with anyone before. No offense, but I don’t think you’re the first person I’m running to for advice.”

“I see your point, but I also have common sense. Something you lack sometimes.”

“Thanks, I guess.” You said, finishing off the rest of your drink. “If something happens, let’s just see what goes.”

“Alright.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

A day later, it was the end of class, and you were by your locker with Kyle, fixing your things. You two were in the middle of making plans for what to do after his practice.

“Do you think it’s okay if I skip practice later? I don’t think I’m in the mood to watch you guys.” You hummed, placing some books in your locker before you shut it close.

“Yeah, no stress. I mean, it is my practice. You don’t have to treat it as a bonding activity for us. I just wanted to spend some time with you between breaks, you know?”

“I understand. I really enjoy spending break time with you as well. Even if they’re a bit too short for my liking.”

“Me too.” He sighed.

“Maybe I will stay and watch. Let’s see.” You hummed.

“YN,” a familiar voice caught your attention from behind. It was Kenny. “I, uh, have something to ask you. Can I borrow you for a sec?”

You turned your attention to Kyle for a second. You were pretty sure you two knew where this was going. He teasingly raised his brows twice, mouthing a subtle ‘Get it, girl!’ with a supportive smile to you.

You shifted your focus back to Kenny. “Sure, definitely.” You nodded as he giddily pulled you to the back of the school, where no students were.

Kenny seemed awfully nervous like he knew that you knew what he was about to say. If that was the case, he was right. You hope he had already prepared for rejection as well.

“So, what’s the thing you wanted to ask me?” You feigned naivety, rocking back and forth on your heels. 

“Well, I,” he paused, carefully picking out his words. “I think you’re amazing, and I wanna ask you out on a date.” He coyly muttered, pulling out a small flower he probably got from the garden and handing it to you.

“Kenny…” You cooed, happily picking the flower and tucking it by your ear. Now you felt really bad about what you’re about to do. “You’re really wonderful, but I don’t like you that way. At least not anymore. I’m sorry.”

“You liked me before?” He quirked a brow.

“Yeah, but that was a few weeks ago. Sorry…” You sighed.

“That’s okay.” He smiled. “I do have one question for you, though.” His smile slowly became one of slight worry, almost a frown, actually.

“Yeah? What is it?” 

“You like someone else, don’t you?”

“Yes.” You said, stretching out the ‘s’ at the end. You feel you already knew his next question as well.

“Is it Kyle?”

“...Yeah,” you answered hesitantly. “I don’t think I’m telling him, though. I don’t wanna risk what we already have.”

“YN?” Kenny called. You hummed in reply. “Do it.”

“Why should I?” You raised your brow.

“I’m pretty sure he likes you too. I mean, everyone kind of suspects that at least one of you like the other.”

“Really?” You grinned at the thought of everyone perceiving you two together. He nodded in reply, to which you opened your arms out for him to hug. “Thank you. I have nothing to give you but this. I feel like you need it.” You said, letting out a small laugh.

He nodded and hugged you tight. “Thank you, YN. I’m grateful.” 

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

After a few more moments with Kenny, you finally bid your goodbyes, and you headed back to your locker since you had forgotten your notes for pre-calculus there.

Were you really going to confess to Kyle? Well, with the support of Kenny, you really wanted to now. Maybe you should wait a bit first. You’re probably not ready yet. To your surprise, Kyle was leaning on your locker, scrolling to your phone. You weren’t outside for long, sure, but you thought he’d just show up early at practice like usual.

“Kyle?” You called out.

“There you are.” He smiled, tucking his phone in his pocket as he made eye contact with you. “So, how’d it go? When and where are you two going?”

“Oh, about that,” you sighed, chuckling awkwardly. “I rejected him. So there’s no ‘when and where’ at all.”

“What? But I thought you really liked the guy!” He said, confusion lining his face.

“I mean, I did! But I…” You paused, double thinking your next few words.

“But what?”

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself. Were you really about to do this? “I just never imagined being with anyone else but you.” Yeah, you were.

He paused, processing if what he heard was right. Unfortunately or not for him, you stared him down with a straight face. “YN, don’t joke with me like that.”

“I’m not! I’m being serious.”

“You like me? Like, literally, me?”

“Yes, you!”

“For how long?”

“I realized just recently, but I think I’ve liked you ever since we were kids. I never realized how obvious it was as well. I’m surprised you’re shocked about it 'cause you’ve always known me better than myself.”

“Kiss me.”

You jumped at his words, shifting your stance. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” 

You hesitantly brought yourself closer to him, your lips hovering over his. You closer your eyes, unable to look at him and bring yourself to it anymore. You supposed he realized just that because he had leaned in and closed the gap for the benefit of the two of you.

#cocogrrrl's writing #south park fanfiction #south park x reader #kyle broflovski x y/n #kyle broflovski x you #kyle x reader #kyle broflovski x reader

[pinknightsinmymind]

【 from rivalry to idolatry, pt. 2 - ellie williams 】

ellie williams x fem!reader

wc: 3.2k

link to part one

content: modern!au, angst, arguments again, enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, mutual (secret but then not) pining, confession, eventual fluff, resolution

a/n: part two!!! the only reason i split this up into two parts is bc it would've been WAY too long as one. i hope yall are enjoying this oneshot mini series :)

Things between you and Ellie continued to be awkward for months to come, and it only amplified once the spring semester started. Competition was right around the corner, and once more you two would have to face each other. Ellie would never admit it, but she was out of ideas. She had no idea what to make, no idea what the judges wanted, what people expected of her. She knew they wanted something grand, but she didn’t know how to give that to them.

She’d stay in the pottery room for hours, sketching, sculpting, testing out different forms, but nothing came to her. She was so lost. She didn’t know what to do with herself, she didn’t know how she felt towards you, and she didn’t know what to do for this fucking competition. She kept shaping the clay, moving it and testing it, and for a second it felt like she had an idea. A morsel of inspiration. She followed the clay as it moved, twisting it and turning it, then nothing. Nothing. Nothing was coming to her.

“Fuck!” she yelled. She stopped pushing the pedal and smashed the clay with her fists. She tilted over the potter’s wheel, the tabletop making a loud clang! as it collided with the ground. “Motherfucker!” She kicked the clay a few times then collapsed on the floor as hot, angry tears poured out her eyes.

“E-Ellie?” a voice asked in the distance. You had forgotten one of your sketchbooks the last time you had been in the pottery room, so you made a trip that night to retrieve it. You could've waited till the morning, but you needed it to attempt to work on your competition piece. Ellie looked up to see you had entered the room, which made her despair feel a thousand times worse. She had always put up an image with you. She made herself look tough, strong, like the biggest asshole on campus, and now here she was collapsed on the floor sobbing in frustration. You had seen her be weak.

“[Y/N], please, leave me alone.”

“Are you okay?”

“Just stay away from me.”

“I can’t just leave you like this, Ellie,” you insisted. You stepped closer to where she was, and she couldn’t believe you weren’t listening.

“[Y/N], goddammit, I said get the fuck away from me. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

You didn’t listen to her and instead got down on your knees to where she was. You extended your hand towards her.

“Hey, just talk to me,” you whispered. She shook her head.

“No. Not you. Not you of all people.”

“Why not?”

“You wouldn’t understand. I don’t know how you do it. How do you not snap under the pressure?”

“It’s not easy, but I don’t let myself get consumed by it,” you answered. It clearly wasn’t the response she wanted, because she seemed even more upset than before.

“Just fuck off, please.”

“I’m just trying to help you.”

“I don’t want your fucking help!” she shouted. She stood up quickly and you followed suit.

“God, Ellie, I can't believe you. I am so tired!” you yelled back. You had always argued back with her, but she hadn’t expected you to snap at her during a moment like this. She had hoped you would just give up on her and leave.

“Tired of what?” she asked.

“I am tired of this back and forth. Aren’t you? It’s been three—almost four fucking years. We need to grow up.”

“Oh, right, because I’m so immature and you’re just the perfect grown-up.”

“That’s not what I said. Stop putting words in my mouth. That’s all you ever do. You push and you push me away, but you don’t ever think about how I feel.”

“Then how do you feel, [Y/N]? Do you hate my guts? Do you wish I was never born? Do you hate seeing my face everyday?”

“No!” you yelled at her. “God, you always do this. I don’t hate you, Ellie! I never have! You know what I have hated? Not being able to be friends with you. Always having to argue with you. I miss the way it was when we were freshmen. We could get along then, and I want that back.”

“How could you not hate me? I’m a piece of shit, I’m an asshole, and all I ever do is argue with you.”

“Because I know deep down inside you don’t hate me,” you pleaded.

Ellie said nothing as she just stared at you. She didn’t deserve anything from you, not even your kindness, but she couldn't hold back anymore. She couldn’t carry the weight of the pressure anymore, and that’s when she finally snapped.

“I-I don’t,” Ellie finally sobbed out. “I just hate everything.” The tears flowed out her eyes, and before she could stop you, you pulled her in. You wrapped your arms around her strongly. “I don’t know what I’m doing. What am I gonna do with myself? I don’t want this anymore.” The words kept spilling out her mouth. “I don’t want to be an artist, and I don’t care to win this competition anymore. None of this is what I want.” You rubbed her back gently, and that’s when you finally felt her hug you back.

“It’s okay,” you said quietly. “Everything will be okay.”

“I’ve been such an asshole to you. I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” you said. “Right now, we’re talking about you.”

“Everyone said we were supposed to be rivals, and we let that get between us. I felt like I wasn’t worthy to be your rival, or to be praised by our professors. I felt like I wasn’t good enough for anything. I wanted to prove myself, and now that I’ve won I hate it.”

“You are enough, Ellie, and you’re worthy of everything. Everything you do is good enough, and you’re the only person I’ve ever considered my competition. No one else can compete with me but you.”

“Do you mean that?” You could hear her sniffling.

“I do.” You rubbed her back once more, toying with the loose strands of hair close to her neck. “I don’t know what I’m doing for this competition either.”

“That makes two of us,” she joked, and it was the first time in a long time you had heard her laugh.

“I haven’t heard you laugh in forever.” You tightened your arms around her. “I’ve missed it.” That only made Ellie sob more.

“I’ve missed being your friend,” Ellie choked out. “I hated being enemies.”

“Me too.” You two stayed like that for a while, just standing in each other’s arms, and that’s when you had an idea. “Who said we have to do a single submission?” you asked.

“What do you mean?” Ellie asked, pulling away to finally look at you. Ellie’s eyes may have been red from all her crying, but to you she was still as pretty as she had always been.

“Why don’t we partner up?” you asked. As soon as the words left your mouth, Ellie pulled you into an even tighter hug. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, you idiot.” And for the first time in a long time, you two laughed together.

You both started working on your project together immediately. You came up with different concepts together, drew rough sketches, looked for inspiration, everything. In fact, all the time you two were spending together was beginning to mend your relationship. You two spent a lot of time talking about what went wrong, why you were both so horrible to each other, and how sorry both of you were. It honestly helped you both to understand each other better, and other people began to notice. Whispers began spreading among other students about how Ellie Williams and [Y/N] [L/N] weren’t fighting anymore, and many of them were trying to figure out why. Two sworn enemies suddenly best friends? It just doesn’t happen without a cause. One night, while working extra late together, the two of you finally developed an idea for your work.

“We should do something based on the Greeks!” you said excitedly.

“Holy shit, you’re a genius!” Ellie shouted. She high-fived you before pulling you into a hug. She could smell your perfume, and for a moment she felt like she was weak in the knees, struggling to compose herself. The two of you pulled away and whipped out your sketchbooks, immediately generating ideas. Ellie looked over at you, at the way you scribbled passionately. She could see how excited and fired up you were, and this was the kind of fire she liked on you, not the angry kind. It was then that she realized she knew how she truly felt for you. She wanted you. The question was: would you ever want her? Was she even worthy? After how she had treated you for years? That revelation itself felt like it had been bestowed upon her by the gods, like she had been struck by Cupid’s bow. Love and hate: it was the progression of your relationship. Was there ever anything so similar but so different at the same time? The thought provided Ellie with the inspiration she needed.

“What if we create a goddess? One that has two natures? Like love and war, or creation and destruction?” she asked.

“I like it!” You flipped to a new page and began drawing up new ideas to share with Ellie. After more brainstorming you eventually came up with the idea for your created goddess. One half of her would be beautifully dressed in a gown, while the other half of her would be dressed for war. It would take at least three months to complete, but that was alright. It was a team effort, wasn’t it? For the first time in a long time Ellie felt excited to be participating in the competition, all thanks to you.

The months passed slowly at first, until they began to go by rapidly. Ellie loved everyday with you, and you looked forward to your late nights with her more and more. The day began to feel incomplete if you didn’t see her. That night you were the first to arrive at the art room you used to work on your project. Ellie arrived a little late, but that was because she came with coffee, and she managed to get you your favorite. You were touched that she remembered.

“What are we working on today?” you asked.

“We’re shaping with metal rods. So we gotta get her shape and all that done.”

“Okay, got it,” you said with determination. Ellie pulled out the large, wooden board she had left in the room this morning for your work tonight. She laid it flat on the floor and began working on connecting the rods for the feet to the board. She rolled her sleeves up as she got busy, making sure the feet were placed in the position you both wanted. For the side of the goddess that wore a gown, she could just place three rods, two of them slanted diagonally towards the middle one, in order to hold the shape of it. However, the other side would just require one straight rod and a smaller one on the board for her foot. Once Ellie was satisfied she stood up from her prone position on the floor and took a drink from her coffee.

“Alright, the base is set up, so we just gotta connect the hips and torso and all that.” You nodded and grabbed the other rods on the table and handed them to Ellie. You worked on connecting them together, dead set on getting her pose correct. Although you helped put the pieces together, Ellie refused to let you tighten them. She wanted to take care of it so you didn’t have to.

“You need any help?” you asked. She shook her head.

“No, I got it.”

“You sure?” You didn’t want her to do too much work.

“Yeah,” she answered. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, okay?” If this was the old Ellie you would’ve taken that sarcastically, but the softness of her voice let you know she was being sincere. You got closer to her and watched her work.

“So you think I’m pretty?” you teased. You watched her arms flex as she bent and shaped the rods then tightened them together. You could see the small beads of sweat sliding down her neck.

“You want me to be honest?” she asked.

“Yes. I want you to tell me exactly what you think.”

“I think you’re very pretty,” she finally said. “You’re so pretty it hurts. Sometimes I can’t breathe.” Her back straightened once she finished and she turned towards you. When she looked at you and saw how the light shone on you, she thought she saw an angel. She liked the way you looked at her, the way you watched her while she worked. It made her feel good, worthwhile. It just felt so natural and so right to have you here with her while she worked. Working together with you felt natural. She couldn’t stop herself as she reached over and kissed your cheek.

“I’m—I’m so sorry,” she apologized once she realized what she’d done. There was a surprised expression on your face, but you still said nothing as you only stared at each other. She felt everything crashing down on her. Had she ruined everything after the two of you had just fixed things?

“I don’t mind,” you finally said. You grabbed her hand and laced your fingers with hers. “It’s alright with me.” Ellie couldn’t believe it. You were actually alright with her kissing you? You weren’t angry?

“Really?” she asked.

“I’m sure.”

Ellie scanned your face, realizing how much she truly loved you and everything about you. She adored you. She worshipped you. All these years she had just been pushing away that love because everyone around her made her feel like she couldn’t love you, and that you could only ever be her nemesis. While memorizing every feature of your face, her eyes landed on your lips. She wanted you more than she’d ever wanted anything in her whole life.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked. She blurted the words out before she could even think twice, before she could even stop herself.

“As many times as you want,” you answered. Ellie grabbed your arms and pulled you into her as her lips landed on yours. She grabbed your chin as she kissed you until her lips were the only thing you could think of. Your hands immediately found their way to her hair as she kissed you intensely. Was this what the two of you had wanted all along? Ellie knew in her heart this was what she always wanted: to be with you, not against you, and that’s exactly how you felt. All you ever wanted was to be able to be close to Ellie the way you always knew possible. You wanted to salvage the relationship you could’ve had had you not been pitted up against each other, and now you had. When you two finally pulled away, you stared into each other’s eyes in awe. You wanted to kiss Ellie over and over again.

“I haven’t always treated you right, or like you deserve, and I’m sorry for that,” Ellie said. “I want to change that. I’ll spend my whole life repenting if I have to.”

“I think we both became horrible people to each other,” you added.

“Yeah, but more so me than you.”

“You were challenging at times,” was all you said. Ellie laughed and you could feel her hands rubbing your back. Her touch was more comforting than you ever imagined.

“That’s a polite way to put it.” Ellie was beautiful like this. Her eyes were bright, she had a carefree smile on her face, and her expression was just soft.

“You know what this feels like right now?” you asked. “When we were freshmen, we just met each other, everything was new, and we were friends. This is how that feels.”

“Oh,” Ellie said. “Am I being friend-zoned?”

“Oh, shit, wait, no,” you stumbled. “That wasn’t the best way to put it. What I mean is things feel the way they did when we first met and when things hadn’t changed yet.”

“Makes sense. Yeah, I don’t think you kiss your friends, [Y/N],” she joked.

“I know that.”

“You wanna get back to our project?” she asked. You nodded.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

After hours of work you and Ellie finally finished your base at midnight. You both let out sighs of release once it was finished, glad your project was one step closer to completion—though far away from now. The months leading up to the competition passed without much hardship. Making the piece no longer felt like a burden, but something enjoyable now. As Ellie worked she found herself eyeing her tattoo more and more. She really loved every part of it, but also the way she appreciated it as well. If she loved getting tattoos so much, she began to wonder if she’d love doing them just as much. That night, while she lay in bed staring at her tattoo, she realized she may have found something to do with herself.

You were ecstatic when the day of the competition came. You would finally get to show off all your hard work with Ellie. The sculpture turned out more beautiful than you thought it would, and you learned more about using clay than you ever knew before. Ellie definitely taught you a lot and helped you improve. You and Ellie worked together on everything, but you also used your own personal skills to enhance certain aspects of it. You used your painting techniques to make the woman’s eyes stand out, to emphasize the harsh nature of her war clothes, the dimensions in her hair. Ellie’s impeccable sculpting technique was used to create a strong form that was incredibly symmetrical. The sculpture was striking to say the least. Her beautiful, white gown, her contrasting dark war attire, the regality of her expression, and the fact that everything about her commanded your respect, which you liked the most.

The competition’s judges were surprised to see that you and Ellie had teamed up for the piece, but they welcomed it. They seemed impressed with it and asked you both many questions about the story behind it and your creative process.

“Do you think we’ll win?” you asked Ellie.

“To be honest, I don’t really care if we win,” Ellie said simply. You were surprised by her answer. In the past she had cared about winning so much that it tore her apart, but she was different now. You both were.

“What changed?”

“It’s not important to me anymore. I don’t really care about the art world or what it has to say about me. It’s not the kind of art I want to make, anyways.”

“Well, do tell me what kind you want to make then,” you implored.

“I want to be a tattoo artist,” she announced. “I think it suits me better.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” you replied.

“You can be the professional artist in this relationship,” she said, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “I’ll brag about you, hang your paintings up in my studio, and talk about my artist girlfriend every five minutes.”

“You have quite the way with words.”

“How else will I seduce you?” she asked. She reached for your hand before clasping it into hers. “As long as I’m with you, everything is okay.”

Like Ellie predicted you didn’t win the art competition, but neither of you were too upset about this. Ellie felt like she couldn’t be mad, not when she had you. You were more important than any competition.

#tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x you #tlou ellie #ellie the last of us

[chaos-and-ink]

20, 31, 52, 71, 81, 94 for the ask game :D

20. whats your ideal date? Oh god, I literally have sooo many. I literally love so many things. Like making homemade pizza in the kitchen. Going to a beach in the evening. A movie night with blankets and snacks and cuddles. Buying each other stuffed animals. Playing card games or board games would be so fun too. Making art or jewelry or pottery together at an art studio. Baking, I love baking so much. Also star gazing or walking through a nature trail. I'm such a simple person though. Literally going to the grocery store or the gas station or a drive would be an amazing date to me.

31. if you could know one thing about the future what do you wanna know? I wanna know where I end up. I have so much anxiety about the future and where my life will go and what choices I'll make. So I'd like to know how things end for me and if I'm happy.

52. whats your favorite book? I used to be a HUGE reader. Like when I was 12 I was reading 300 pages every day. But when depression hit I kinda just fell out of it. I don't really know what my favourite book is but I really really love The Song of Achilles. I just, god, it absolutely completely obliterated and destroyed me. I also loveeeee the Percy Jackson universe and all those books. Nico is my fav and I knew he was gay from the start. It was my gaydar, middle school me was like him.

71. whats your favorite song? I can never pick one. But lately I've really loved listening to Lucky Charms by Anson Seabra. "Wish I could say, wish I could say / That this won't last forever / But every day, but every day / It never seems to get better" "I hate myself but I don't want to / I'd ask for help but I'm too strong to" "I don't wanna live my life like this / Going through the motion / I don't wanna live my life like this / Always feeling broken"

81. whats your least favorite animal? Nobody hate me for this but hairless cats scare me. I think it's just the visual texture of them lmaooooo.

94. do you like dinosaurs? YEAH! I did a whole huge presentation on the Deinonychus for school once, love those silly little guys. Raptors are my favourite 100% It's probably because I identify with them with their lil arms and weird legs and screeching noises. I too am a raptor, you just gotta squint.

#chaos #fav songs #fav lyrics #ask box #ask box games #thank you for the questionssssss 💛💛💛

[fwooofy]

Can you bless us with some general Sasori HCs?

I'm sorry for how late this answer is, still not used to checking Tumblr - But thank you for the ask!!

Here are some of my Sasori HCs - It got a big longer than I anticipated, but I legit never shut up about Sasori lol

(Slaps the top of Hiruko) this bad boy can fit so much neurodivergence and trauma. Specifically I see him with ASD, he's somewhere on the spectrum, special interest is puppets. Sasori gives off narcissistic traits, he also has a big control issue. Things have to go this way, be done like this. Man also has routines, do not fuck with them. The shit Chiyou did to him as a child left its mark, its way more then just he hates waiting.

Human Sasori has freckles! (this one is self indulgent as a natural red head) Sasori had freckles, and its one detail he left off his puppet body. His puppet body is roughly the same size of his human form, if not a bit bulkier but its to fit tons of weapons and poisons inside himself. No one expects the short king to stab you in a vital point, it works to his advantage. If you look at Sasori and think he will be easy to take on because of his smaller stature, you've already fallen for his trap

Sasori left his village at 15, and we know he's 35 in the Anime. I personally hc him to be late teens, when we see his fight with Konan. And its somewhere in his 20's or so when he turned himself into a puppet. Oh how I wish we knew this process!!! But I like to HC that his human body is sealed away in a scroll somewhere in the back of his storage. It's roughly 17/18 in age, and probably incapacitated. If he transferred himself back into that body, he'd be weak and sick and would have to recover. The reasons he still has his human body is in the event he has to fix his puppet body and can't be in it- Ya never know (good rp material too)

During his rouge years, and when he was still human. Sasori was going on murder tours legit for 'Art Supplies' - Rouge Sasori is very different from the puppet man we know, he's free from his village, doing his art. Slaughtering villages along the way. I hc his mental health was at his lowest, and he /didn't care./ He was definitely on one, thank god Konan found him lol - Apathetic, uncaring, this is where he got his title Akasuna / Of the Red Sands

He gets along with some of the other Akatsuki members. I like to think Sasori and Kakuzu are actually decent friends/comrades. Both are one of the original Akatsuki members, along with Itachi. Both are old, some fashion of immortal, they both keep to themselves but when they cross paths they get along rather well, even if its for a short time. I'd say he also respects Itachi, but both are men a few words. No strong feelings.

Sasori actually does appreciate other forms of art, we see this in the hidden series where he and Deidara find someone who makes a specific kind of pottery, same when he fought Konan he brought up her jutsu being art. Knowing Sasori can look at other art forms, its telling about him and Deidara's fights. His opinions on Deidara's art is /personal/ - I feel like, Sasori was willing to say the sculptures themselves is art, but the second Deidara blows it up and makes that conflict with his personal art philosophies.... Is where the actual strife is. But he doesn't disregard Deidara's skill, just what he does in the end. But after so long of arguing over what /true art is/ it's now just personal beef. "Your art sucks, get a real hobby."

Sasori HATES Orochimaru. I honestly don't think these two were 'close' when Orochimaru was his partner. Honestly I think Sasori thought Orochimaru was off putting, their ideals of how to get immortality differ nor do I think Orochimaru would of cared for Sasori's art. I don't think there was any strong feelings, UNTIL Orochimaru left. Sasori suddenly was like, "FUCK THAT SNAKE FUCKER! He attacked one of our members and then went AWOL?!?!". Sasori was with Pein when Orochimaru was recruited, didn't want him to join in the first place - and I know Sasori just muttering under his breath like "I knew we never should of let him in, no one fucking listens to me. I should of killed him" - And because Oro left, they needed to find a new membber- So that means Sasori was than inconvenienced with having to find a new partner, and oooooooo he hates that snake SO MUCH.

His relationship with the Kazekage is always a fun thing to think about - and normally for me it gets into more ship / trauma related things. BUT without those themes, I think Sasori has strong, hate filled feelings for his country and its leaders. They /used/ him for this war, he was making puppets to kill. Chiyou's bullshit aside from fucking him up, this was something he grew to hate. We don't know how or when he took the Kazekage, we only know that it was hard and he left 0 trace, it's why the puppet is his favorite. With Sandaime taken, the sand spent all their recourses looking for him making them weak and easy to attack. This was part of Sasori's plan, one final fuck you to his village. As well as the bragging rights of legit stealing and now using 'The strongest kazekage known to the Sunagakure history' - I can only imagine his smug face and sense of superiority.

#Ask #Anon #Fwoofy.txt #Headcanon #Sasori #I actually love asks like this #i've just been busy #Anyway #I love Sasori #and I have many thoughts about him #please ask me more lol

[sir-olofii]

19, 21, 26

19 - fact about personality

(These are more like stuff which affected it)

An unexpected one: I attended an orthodox primary school, and they gendered everything in there. And they made sure we believed in god and were religious. So since I had 'F' in my ID, according to their beliefs, I was supposed to become a "true woman". And they taught us multiple things which in fact were really useful and fun and I wish they just gave all the children an opportunity to participate in these activities. Such as sewing, stitching, crocheting, cooking, making plushies, weaving, felting, painting, doing pottery and others. Crafts teacher gathered me and my classmates, we were creating something cool together and talked a lot. I haven't bought a single beanie or a scarf in my life and if I want for some reason I can craft almost everything I need. I can even make a knife out of an old plate, a piece of antler and a stripe of leather

A strange one: I'm left-handed and as a child I used to mirror all the symbols when writing. I guess that's the reason I can read and write backwards easily

A sad one: my bio father was a gangster, and when cops started seeking for him, he just vanished into thin air. my mom had to live with her best friend (whose husband was a gangster too, but he was caught) and stay with me and the friend's son, when her friend worked to provide such an improvised same-sex family with everything. They did it because cops were extremely rough to us, since they couldn't find my bio dad. They believed my mom knew where he was, but she didn't. That time I was clueless about all the stuff, I was glad my friend lived with me, and we could play together all day long. I believed he became my brother

21 - What I love most about myself:

In terms of my appearance: I love how white and Asian genes combined in me to create my eyes, which are blue but don't have a white-like shape. And my voice. It's pretty low, even though I haven't started T yet

In terms of my temper: I'm able to find a good solution in extreme situations quickly enough

In terms of my skills: my drawings are pretty, I speak 3 foreign languages and I cook well

26. My biggest pet peeves:

- I'd rather walk outside when it's -40° Celsius rather than when it's something like +27°. Hot summers suck

- Pictures of me taken by someone else. Like I know my smile's ugly and I have huge hips, don't remind me about it

- Every damn thing in the world's created for right-handed people. Scissors and other tools have left-handed-friendly alternatives, which are absolutely useless, because you learn using regular ones since young age, and you adapt to it. But the barriers in the subway... they're always right-handed. Like they have coin insertion slot and the spot where you're supposed to press a card located at the right side. And if I forget to take my card consciously with my right hand to open the barrier, I automatically open another one when trying to enter the closed one. At such moments everyone looks at me like I'm a cave person.

[demi-shoggoth]

2022 Reading Log, pt 11

It’s taken me a while to get up the energy to read this month, let alone reflect on what I’ve read. But here’s what I’ve been reading lately.

50a. Show Me the Bone by Gowan Dawson. I wanted to like this book; I really did. The concept is interesting: it’s about Georges Cuvier and his “Law of Association”, which claimed that the entire structure of an extinct or unknown organism could be inferred from a single bone or tooth (hence the title). And the thesis is interesting: it’s about how this original concept was distorted to fit multiple social, political and scientific agendas in England, culminating in its most visible incarnation of the Crystal Palace dinosaur sculptures, which make large, sweeping, and generally incorrect assumptions about the animals they depict. But the writing is so dull. The authorial voice embodies almost all of the bad habits of academic writing, to the point where getting through the book is a real chore. This is a book that I might come back to given a lot of free time and nothing else to read, but I’m too busy (and there’s so many books I’d rather enjoy) to struggle through it.

51. Phases of the Moon: A Cultural History of the Werewolf Film by Craig Ian Miller. The title refers to the main thesis—that there are phases of werewolf movies where the monster represents different ideas, rather than being a monolithic “the beast within” signifier, as werewolves are often reduced to. The book talks about Larry Talbot as being representative of the American experience in WWII in the Wolf Man sequels, discusses the fear of disease and the division of mental and physical illness with An American Werewolf in London, the anxiety about teen subcultures and school shootings in Ginger Snaps, and a lot more. One thing I particularly liked about the book is that it discusses some movies about non-werewolf shapeshifters when they’re thematically relevant (like a compare/contrast between Cat People and its dumber, werewolf ripoff Cry of the Werewolf).

52. Drakōn by Daniel Ogden. Now here’s a dense academic book that actually reads well. This is a survey of dragons and snakes in Greek mythology, religion and culture, starting with a look at the various myths about dragons and dragon slayers, and then moving to anguiform gods and snake cults. Although the basic stories are fairly familiar to me, there’s a lot of material that was new, typically sourced from authors whose works are less known and translated than Ovid, Homer or Hesiod. The last chapter talks about early Christian dragon lore, leading of course to Saint George, and how this was influenced by Greco-Roman ideas of how dragons worked. The one thing I wish this book had were more images. A lot of pottery and sculpture is described without being illustrated—we get accession numbers (many of the pieces that are not shown are from the Louvre) and occasional “reproductions by the author”, but a lot goes without images. Especially since some of the depictions sound wild (like a Hecate with a snake body, snakes for hair and two dog heads emerging from her torso).

53. Sticky: The Secret Science of Surfaces by Laurie Winkless. This is yet another popular science book from Bloomsbury Sigma, and like the rest of the line, it’s very good. The theme of the hour is material science, namely about the properties of surfaces and friction. Each chapter looks into applied physics for one particular topic—breaking the sound barrier, the behavior of rock causing earthquakes, and how geckos stick to ceilings are all discussed, to give you an idea of the breadth of the book. Each chapter highlights how much we still don’t know about friction, while simultaneously discussing how much we do know and can apply, even if the exact mechanisms are still debated. I never knew that the physics of curling were so contentious.

54. Envisioning Exoplanets by Michael Carroll. See folks, this is why you need an editor. This book is by one of the foremost authorities on the hunt for exoplanets (planets outside of the Solar System), and talks about how we find them, what we have found, what the planets are like and which ones may be able to support life. The art is gorgeous, showing images of stars, moons and planets vastly unlike ours but still seeming familiar and realistic. Unfortunately, the book is very poorly organized. Topics will change between paragraphs, or even within a paragraph, without warning or transition, or seemingly any obvious relationship between topics. Technical terms will be used before they are formally defined. Units are used interchangeably (notably AU, kilometers, and no actual numbers, just approximations of distance compared to the Sun’s planets). The overall effect is very stream of consciousness, as if you were having a conversation with an expert who was only sort of invested in making sure they were understood. There’s good stuff in this book, but sorting it out was a frustrating experience.

55. The Sleeping Beauties and Other Stories about Mystery Illness by Suzanne O’Sullivan. I didn’t realize that this was a follow-up when I grabbed this from the library, but this is a sort of sequel to Is It All In Your Head? which I read last year. The topic is again psychosomatic illnesses, but this time how they are viewed and manifested in different cultural lenses. The titular “sleeping beauties” are children, usually female, who go comatose in Sweden as a response to the threat of deportation. Other stories highlight how particular combinations of environment, culture and trauma manifest as physical symptoms, and how the cycle of pathologising normal fluctuations in pain, attention and the like are perhaps a Western manifestation of culture bound illness.

#reading log #exoplanet #astronomy #medicine #psychosomatic illness #material science #physics #history of science #paleontology #werewolf #werewolves #horror movies #dragons #greek mythology

[theomachst]

@steeleidolon

Even if he’s not as strong as the original, they’ve bound him in restraints that even SOLDIERs would have trouble with. No materia, no weapons.

They’d kept him in a cell for a majority of the questioning, strapped down to a table. He was still unable to move much, but at least he wasn’t in danger of being electrocuted again. Even if he was a monster, he could still feel pain. 

Heartache. 

Loneliness.

A certain emptiness that words can’t describe. 

How many of these feelings are his and how many are mine?

“It’s good to see you again,” he laughs softly, a sad smile pulling at the corner of his Genesis’ lips. Same face, same hair- Albeit graying. Cracks of dark black running along the left side of his body, like the broken pottery from Wutai that they mend into new works of art lacquered with gold at the points of breakage.

He had already forgotten the name. It seemed that even his mind had limitations due to the accelerated degradation. He couldn’t even recall who he was before Genesis Rhapsodos, just that there were gaps between the emotions and memories imprinted upon him like a blank slate waiting to be scribed. The attraction he felt was instantaneous, magnetic. Familiar and yet he knew he’d never spent any meaningful time with Kunsel beyond, well...

But the knowledge was there. His name, his occupation and rank. Personality, interests- The piercings on his body, a mental map of where he liked to be touched. The distance between them felt insurmountable, the air between them glacial. 

He wasn’t Genesis, but in that moment, Gods- He wants to. Wishes he could be.

“I’m sorry, it’s... difficult to explain. Using your friend’s body like this,” he trails off, words drying up into ash in his throat.

It hurts. The astriction in his chest, like all of his muscles have wrapped and squeezed around his heart.

I’m scared. I don’t want to die. Help me.

“So, what do you want to know?”

#steeleidolon #✦ RP THREADS #✦ DAMN IT DAMN IT I CAN'T LOOK AWAY WHILE I'M BEING SWALLOWED UP [COPY] #:)))))) this is FINE #:3ccc

[b4kuch1n]

potion of toads and such

#pokemon #swsh #champion leon #wizard leon #I should make a tag for that fkjdshf it's probably time....... #anyways. I sketched this thing like. a month ago I think #and now it's done #there's still another wizard leon I also sketched around that time #since when did I start 'saving' piece like this...... this is entirely new. usually I either draw in one go or drop it #well! welcome news at least #fkdjshf me drawing fashion swsh is just like. me torturing myself by drawing clothes I desperately want to be real #and now that tea set also..... fuck I would like that so much #gods I wish I knew how to do pottery #stares at hands. everyday I do this to myself #well! hope I do this to you too. suffer with me or leave the premise immediately #okay I go for a walk now. air's finally cooled down and I have an hour or so to go look around #have a good night!! please dream of shades and mushrooms and moisture

[sluttywonwoo]

3 nights || jw x reader

summary: a one-night hookup turns into three (based off of the song 3 nights by dominic fike )

warnings: swearing, smut (18+), unprotected sex (uh yeah don’t do that)

word count: 2.2k

a/n: this is an old tom holland piece of mine that i thought would fit wonwoo (my tom holland blog is @wazzupmrstark if you wanna check it out)

masterlist

A hellish smirk tugged at Wonwoo’s lips as he gazed down at his phone in the midst of a pitch meeting. He glanced at the image he’d been sent for a second more before sliding his phone back in his pocket and lifting his head to indicate he was paying attention. But he was distracted. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for Jeon Wonwoo to receive nude pictures from unsaved numbers, but he was pretty sure he knew who this one was from. At least he hoped. You had cropped your face out of it, but from the expanse of your collarbone to the curve of your hip he could recognize the freckles under your breasts and the small scar just below your belly button.

He waited until he was dismissed from the meeting to respond. Didn’t want to seem too eager.  

What did I do to deserve this out of the blue, darling?

You didn’t respond right away. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he hadn’t responded right away, so why would you? You had better things to be doing than sit around waiting for him to text back, but a selfish part of him wished that you were.

You were a bit different from Wonwoo’s other lays, but he didn’t mean that in the nauseating ‘you’re not like other girls’ way that men liked to use to get into a girl’s pants. He didn’t really need to use cheesy, comparative shit like that if he was being honest. All he had to do was send a wyd text at 2am to get a girl to come over. Unless that girl was you.

Of course, you were beautiful, and incredible in bed, but something about you always left him wanting more. Maybe it was the fact that your presence was fleeting, you never stayed very long afterwards. Maybe your elusiveness tugged at a deeper curiosity in the back of his mind that he was unaware of. He was already familiar with every inch of your body, but truthfully he knew very little else about you. and maybe that’s what intrigued him.

Or maybe it was the simplicity. Routine hookups, no strings attached- regardless of how many times you came… over.

Whatever it was that kept you on his mind, Wonwoo didn’t dwell. He pushed all questions and logic away when he was with you. And when he wasn’t… he tried not to think about it. But it was difficult not to when you sent him pictures like that out of nowhere, no context, not even a response.

Ding!

Never mind.

Oops wrong person ;)

Wonwoo let out a low chuckle and shook his head. Of course, there was a small part of him that wondered if you had actually meant to send that to someone else, but he shook it off. If he knew you at all, which granted he really didn’t, he knew this game.

He didn’t hesitate to respond this time.

Shame… was gonna ask if you were busy tonight.

Only a few seconds passed before his phone buzzed again.

What did you have in mind??

You.

It was corny, sure, but effective.

I think I can make something work.

He grinned at the screen and sighed, licking his lips.

9pm. Our place.

-

You hadn’t even taken off your coat by the time he had you up against the door with his mouth on your neck, pressing breathy kisses to your skin. You gasped as he sucked a hickey just under your jaw, closing your eyes and moaning his name.

A seedy motel in the middle of the city wasn’t the… most ideal spot for late night booty calls. The sunset-colored wallpaper was peeling and the showers only worked sometimes, but in the grand scheme of things, location wasn’t important. It was still the best sex of your life, and they had cheap vending machine snacks.

The bed creaked and choked out a cloud of dust when Wonwoo pushed you onto it, but you just laughed and pulled at the waistband of his jeans for him to join you.

He smiled into a kiss that turned desperate. His hands were on your zipper, your bra clasp, your panties, anything to get you undressed faster. You held in a whimper when he sat up to undo his belt, something about the way he did that always drove you crazy. He smirked knowingly as he did and took his time.

You whined impatiently and nudged at him with a knee to hurry up. Thankfully, Wonwoo wasn’t one to leave you hanging and was back on you instantly. He pressed a thigh in between your legs and licked a stripe up the valley of your breasts, choosing the left, his favorite, to nip at.

“Fuck, Wonwoo,” you groaned, grinding up against him.

He paused and lifted himself so that he was hovering above you. “How was your day?”

You rolled your eyes and threw your head back in frustration. “Can we not?”

“I can’t ask you how your day was?”

“That’s not what I’m here for, and you know it.”

“Then what are you here for?” he asked, wanting you to say it out loud. You kissed him instead and took the distraction as an opportunity to pull him by the collar and flip him so that you were on his lap.

You tugged at his jeans and boxers playfully. “This.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Good one.”

“I know.”

He lifted his head to kiss you and you gave in with a quick peck on the lips. As often as you were with Wonwoo, you never took the time to notice how pretty he was. You knew he was hot. You could write an entire dissertation on how fucking fit he was, but as you gazed down at him underneath you you realized just how lovely this boy really was, especially like this. His dark hair was soft and wavy without all the product in it, and god his lips were so pink, and the way he looked at you…

You kissed him again, fiercely this time, and slid a hand down his pants just to feel him. He groaned, already needy.

“Wait-” he pulled back and sat up on his elbows.

“What?” You were worried you’d done something wrong, stared at him like you were in love with him for a second too long and he’d caught on.

“Do you want me to go down on you?”

You sighed in relief and laughed. “No need, I’m already soaked.”

“I can tell,” he quipped back and quirked an eyebrow.

You were a little embarrassed he could feel your arousal through his jeans and cursed. “Fuck you!”

“I believe you were just about to.”

“You’re lucky I’m horny, Wonwoo,” you growled.

“Tell me about it.” He smirked and laid back with an arm over his head.

Sometimes you wondered if the sex was really worth it, even if he was the best you’d ever had…

Of all the ways Wonwoo could fuck you, this had to be one of his favorites. There was just something about you on top of him that he couldn’t handle. The way your delicate gold necklace dangled in his face as you rode him, the way his hands fit so perfectly on your ass, the way your hair hung around your shoulders. He never lasted long.

To be fair, neither did you. And the way Wonwoo was saying your name wasn’t helping. Every time you lowered yourself back on him and his cock hit that spot inside you that burning intensity in your stomach grew a little stronger.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t out of breath and your thighs weren’t starting to get sore, but Wonwoo was begging you not to stop and you’d be damned if you let him down.

“Y/n, I’m close,” he warned and brought his fingers to your clit to make sure you were right there with him.

You just nodded, too far gone to say much else as you chased the high that was just out of reach. Wonwoo thrust up into you a final time and finished with a moan of your name tumbling from his lips.

Even as he was coming down he continued to massage your clit.

“Cum for me, love.” His voice was spent and gravelly and his eyes were pleading and fuck, who were you to deny him? You gripped his shoulders hard as your whole body tensed and you tipped over the edge.

And for a moment the world stopped spinning and time stopped moving as electricity surged through your body and you forgot your own name.

Wonwoo was still whispering words of quiet praise when you collapsed on his chest seconds later, trembling.

“That’s it, darling. That’s good.”

You let him rub your back like that until you caught your breath enough to sit up and roll off of him. You immediately started collecting your clothes from around the room and putting them back on as Wonwoo did the same.

“Two cherry cokes?” he asked and you nodded.

“And powdered donuts?”

“Give me some credit, how could I forget?”

It was something of a tradition to share a snack and a soda after you hooked up. It had started on a night when both of you were too drunk to drive anywhere afterwards so you passed the time sitting in bed eating stale powdered donuts and drinking soda to sober up. Logically, you could have slept it off and went home the next morning, but it was a rule you had to never sleep over at a one-night-stand’s place. Even neutral territory like this was off limits.

Wonwoo could’ve gone to bed without you and left you to fend for yourself but instead he made the trek out to the vending machines in his boxers to get you both some food. Turns out cherry coke was the only soda they had, and there was no telling how old it was, but it was better than nothing.

That night was so long ago, but you still remembered how he stayed up with you until four in the morning watching shitty reality shows on the fuzzy tv, talking about exes and weird dreams and hobbies you both wanted to learn. You wondered if he ever ended up teaching himself pottery.

Wonwoo was back with the goods before you could blink and handed you your respective share of the stash. You held your can up and clinked it against his before taking a sip. You’d grown to like the syrupy sweet taste of it by now, and even found yourself craving it when you weren’t with Wonwoo.

“Same time tomorrow?” Wonwoo asked as you buttoned your pants.

“You’ll still be in town?”

Usually he didn’t stay for long unless he was working on his music so you didn’t let yourself get hopeful just in case he was kidding.

“And the next day,” he confirmed. It was an invitation.

“You’re not one for planning ahead,” you pointed out, gathering the rest of your belongings in your arms.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

-

Wonwoo didn’t sleep well that night. He never did when he wasn’t in his own bed, but this was different. He couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened just hours ago in that run-down motel by the highway and what might happen tomorrow.

His members had been confused when he moved his flight back home two days and he hadn’t given them any other explanation than ‘catching up with friends’ for them to go off of. He had those days off anyway. Seoul would be fine without him until then.  

But uncertainty lingered in his mind. What if you didn’t call? What if you were busy? He knew your world didn’t revolve around him, but he was starting to wish it did. It was stupid, and there were dozens of other people he could call for a quick fuck in this town if you stood him up, but suddenly none of them sounded interesting.

He circled back to that picture you’d sent him earlier and found himself wishing he could see your face.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” he muttered out loud to no one in particular and forced himself to turn his phone off to try and sleep again.

-

The second night was much like the first. Quick sex, donuts, cherry coke. You didn’t even finish your half of the donuts before you were out the door. You expected the third night to be the same, along with that awkward ‘we might never see each other again’ interaction that happens at the end of every fling, but what you got was far from it.

“You should stay.”

You already had one shoe on when he dropped that out of nowhere and-

“What?” was all you could say.

“It’s late, you should stay over. We could get breakfast in the morning or something.”

“Wonwoo, I-”

“You don’t sleep over after one-night-stands, I know.”

“Then why are you asking me?”

“Well, it’s been three nights…” he trailed off.

“But it’s the same arrangement,” you argued.

“What if it wasn’t?”

You put down your other shoe and stood up. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“I have those rules for a reason. I didn’t just make them up for fun. Without them… feelings get hurt. Hearts get broken. Things get complicated.”

“I know.” Wonwoo sighed softly and took a tentative step towards you. “But-”

“But what?”

“But it doesn’t have to be like that,” he finished. “It won’t be like that.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t,” he said honestly. “But there’s a first time for everything.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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#3 nights #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x y/n #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen smut

[honey-milk-depresso]

That Charm Shop In Liyue (Various Liyue Characters)

Fresh early morning in Liyue and someone has already entered your shop house. What type of charms do they wish for?

“Good morning!”

“Ah, good morning, Miss y/n,” a deep voice greeted you back.

Ah, so it’s Zhongli again.

He’s a regular customer, he comes here to see and perhaps buy one or two or all of your charms, pottery and other handmade trinkets you had made.

“Have you come here to see the charms? Have you thought of buying some?” you questioned. Most of the time, he didn’t bring the money, to which a certain someone would come in to his “financial rescue”.

“This charm,” he pointed to the brown and gold six flower knots that had a few auburn and burnish jade beads attached to the tassel, “what was the inspiration of this charm?”

“Ah that one. This charm was inspired by the Liyue god himself, Rex Lapis. It’s to bring about prosperous opportunities and benefits, find a trustworthy and loyal partner..” you spaced out.

Zhongli chuckled to which you snapped out of your own dreamy daze.

“Ah, well, that’s for mostly me and the other ladies who hope for a partner like that. Ahehehe..”

Zhongli simply gave you a small smile. “I’m sure you will.”

“Ah.”

He took a good look at the charm again. “Perhaps I shall hang this outside of the funeral parlour. So Hu Tao wouldn’t be constantly asking me how our profits are doing.”

You giggled at his remark. “Miss Hu Tao’s just worried about her company is all. I’m sure she meant no harm!”

“ Putting that aside, I would like to buy this charm.”

“Did you bring your wallet?”

“Let me-”

“No, he didn’t . Let me help you, Mr Zhongli.”

There comes Mr Zhongli’s walking wallet, Childe.

He’s the one who ends up buying the charms and other things Zhongli wanted to buy.

“Good morning, y/n! How are you this morning? Remembered to eat breakfast? If not I got some.” Childe placed a bento on the wooden counter in front of you.

“Did Xiangling made this?”

“Yeah. She said you should really eat up. She noticed how you were getting a lot more locked up in that little working studio of yours.”

“Is that so?” Lately, you’ve been getting more engrossed in your own charm making and crafts for your shop. You had so much inspiration for the past few weeks.

“ You have to remember to take care of yourself, y/n.”

“Yes, yes. Of course. I’ll make sure of it.”

“You better. Welp, me and Mr Zhongli gotta buzz. See you around, y/n!”

“Bye Childe and Zhongli!”

========================== “Ganyu?”

“Ah! Miss y/n. How is everything going so far?”

Ganyu is not a buyer, but she comes in to patrol. She seems to really enjoy being in your shop to just chat with you, and you of course didn’t mind having to talk to her. Who wouldn’t?

”Great and normal as per usual!” you chuckled stupidly.

Ganyu giggled. “Well that’s great to hear!”

“So are you still taking lessons from Xiao?”

“Yep, still am.”

“How are things going?”

She sighed. “Alright I guess. It’s just a tad bit tiring. But I can manage.”

“Well remember to take breaks every now and then. Don‘t overwork yourself.”

“Thank you, y/n. Take care!”

“You too!”

========================== “Need help?”

You yelped in surprise as you almost toppled the box of charms you were carrying towards the trade boat.

Xiao would appear randomly out of nowhere in the evening to check up on you, for who knows what reason. It’s not that you don’t mind the adeptus’ company, it‘s just that he should really just stop startling you every 5 seconds.

”Oh! Xiao! Um, yeah! Thanks..”

He simply huffed and took the boxes from your hand, carrying it and loading it on the boat.

By that time, you scrambled back into your tiny shop house and took out a plate of his favorite dish; almond tofu.

“Thought you might have come back from your missions. Here as thanks for protecting Liyue and...er helping me carry boxes?” you chuckled awkwardly. He simply grunted. “It’s the job of an adept to protect Liyue. ” Yet he took that plate.

This softie.

You simply smiled and rolled your eyes a little. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

“Hmph.”

Xiao glance back to the Inn Verr worked in.

“I should get going. And thank you for... the meal.”

”It’s no problem.”

He put on his mask and leaped onto your roof before jumping back to the inn.

You had to admit. He looked really cool doing that.

==========================

“Oh, Lady Ningguang?”

“Hello, dear y/n.” She smiled warmly.

Ningguang sometimes came here to buy your charms, or simply just browsed your items while having conversations with you. Sometimes, she gives you small gifts when she leaves. She wasn’t a regular customer like Zhongli, but she definitely wasn’t a rare sight to encounter, well, at night mostly.

“I actually have an invitation for you.”

”An- an invitation??”

Now that’s something new.

“Yes. I‘m inviting you over to Wangshu Funeral Parlor for some tea. I think you need a well deserved break.”

“Oh. Well, you’re very kind Lady Ninggaung, but I’m not quite sure.” Why that place though?

“Come on now. I insist.”

You sweat dropped. Ningguang sure is persistent.

”Well, I guessed it can’t be helped..”

She beamed.

”Wonderful! Be there at 7 in the evening. Here’s the invitation.”

She handed you a white paper that had words engraved in gold. “Thank you, Lady Ningguang. I’ll be sure to come!”

” Likewise.”

===========================

“Okay,” you mumbled to yourself. You had just set foot outside of your shop house, dressed nicely and presentably as can be for your chat with Ningguang.

“Y/n.”

”Ah! Xiao stop scaring me like that!”

He simply shrugged.

“Where are you going?”

“Wangshu Funeral to meet up with Lady Ningguang.”

Xiao’s eyes widened ever slightly. “Oh yes, it’s 5pm...”

“ What was that?”

“Nothing. Come, I shall help you go to the parlour.”

“You know you don’t have to, Xiao. I’ll be fine. It’s only the evening.”

“No, it’s unsafe during this hour. I’m following you regardless.”

==========================

“Huh?”

“Surprise!”

There stood not just Ningguang, but Zhongli, Ganyu, Childe, Hu Tao, and so many others. Even Keqing was there. And Qiqi and Xiangling!

“Wha- What is all this??”

“It’s to say thank you for always being out for us!” Yanfei exclaimed.

“Out for you..?”

“You’re shop has always brought a peace of mind to many of us, and we thank you for being a friend when we felt down, even if it was unintentional or indirect, we would still like to thank you for being there for us to be invited in your open arms, and for the hard work you have put in,” Zhongli stated as he bowed slightly and took your hand ever so gently, enough to make your cheeks dusted in pink over the charming gesture.

“O-oh, I, um, I never knew that...ahehehe...Well...I’m glad to hear that!”

“Mhm! This party is also for you to relax and hangout!” Ganyu smiled.

You glance at the table that’s filled with dishes of food.

“The food...”

“Don’t worry, y/n! There’s plenty of food to go around! You’ll get the lion’s share obviously!” Xiangling said.

“Yeah, we also bought you gifts! Or at least, I bought half of the gifts on that table over there,” Childe stated as he pointed to a table on the left just loaded with gifts, “not to make it look like you’re birthday, but, ehhhh, yeah.”

“Hmm?”

You looked at all the gifts, the food and everyone else who loved coming to your shop house. What did you do to deserve these wonderful people. You tear up a little, overwhelmed by emotions that couldn’t be explained through words.

“H-hey! I didn’t mean to make you cry!!”

“Way to go, Childe.”

“N-no,” everyone else looked at you worriedly. 

“I-I’m just really grateful for all this.... and you guys mostly. Thank you for also being there for me...” you smiled.

Xiao just smiled a little, but it was sincere.

Zhongli went up to you and gently cupped your face up, rubbing your tears away with his thumb. He smiled warmly at you.

“Likewise.”

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact oneshots #genshin oneshots #zhongli x reader #xiao x reader #childe x reader #tartagalia x reader #genshin tartagalia #genshin xiao #genshin zhongli #genshin ganyu #genshin ningguang #ningguang #ganyu #ningguang x reader #ganyu x reader #genshin ganyu x reader #genshin ningguang x reader #genshin xiao x reader #genshin childe x reader #genshin tartaglia x reader #genshin zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

[goodieghosty]

Writing: in the mood for museum shenanigans. Not just Orpheus stuff. Show us the gods marveling at this stuff that they possibly held themselves and look how old and withered it is.

The museum had been a brilliant idea. At least it kept the gods preoccupied for a good few hours. A welcomed break from all the recent ongoings and shenanigans. And Thomas was glad he could share this with them.

Janus strayed far from the group, more interested in a display of pottery and other such things. An old, cracked and weathered, teapot caught his eye. It used to be a lovely yellow hue, years ago. And it was now missing its lid, as well as part of the handle. Which once resembled a snake, only now a good chunk of the once proud snake was nowhere to be seen

It felt... odd, knowing that he used to pour his visitors a drink from this pot. Of course, this teapot had a trick or two. Naturally. He used it to spike drinks with the venom from his prized snakes. Not a lethal thing, no. It just loosened their tongue. Made them speak the truth.

He became aware that one of the others had joined him. It was Remus. He half expected him to make some snide remark or crude joke about the pieces on display. But he did not. He was... quiet.

Which worried Janus.

His gaze followed Remus' line of sight to a vase. The paint was old and chipped. But the depiction was clear. Some famed hero of legend running his spear through the eye of...

"Clover." Remus mumbled, hands in his pockets. He knew Janus had questions. He could feel it. "He was such a sweetheart. Didn't deserve to go out the way he did." None of his children who fell to so-called "heroes" did.

Ah, yes. Remus had peculiar tastes. He's fathered many monsters of myth. One wouldn't think he'd keep tabs on them. But he did. He always made sure they were well taken care of. Sadly, only few remained in this modern age.

He didn't want to bring anymore into a world that would only see them as feral beasts.

"I heard about Clover. All good things, rest assured. I hadn't known he was yours." Janus admitted, "Wish I could have met him."

Remus grunts, staring straight through the display, and far beyond. Looking off into nothingless, presumably.

Janus shifted, "I do have to ask... is there a reason for your... tastes? I get the appeal, but unless I'm mistaken you haven't taken any mortal lovers. Or divine, well, other than the odd fling."

Remus snorts, turning to give Janus a positively foul grin. "Are you offering?" When all he got was a roll of the eyes, he continued. "Mortals are booooring-and I could bag a god whenever I wanted. Bunch of horny bastards. I like a challenge! If I'm not breaking a sweat during foreplay it's not worth it."

He shrugged, "And besides, human demigods are soooo entitled and cocky."

Janus couldn't even be offended by that. A good bit of them were.

Remus draped an arm across his shoulders, "Now, you wanna tease Patton about those fertility statues he's pretending don't exist?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course."

#godsides au #goodies.fics #sanders sides

[absurdthirst]

Hey! Idk if your request are open, but if you have time, I was wondering if you could do a headcannon with the Pedro characters of how they would be when they have a family day with their s/o and child! 💕

Family Day with the You and Your Child(ren):

Javier: Nobody knows Javier has a family, so when Steve and Connie runs into. you, Javier and your child, he is shocked. Javier looks completely different than when he is working. He is actually relaxed, a smile replacing his normal frown and your child is perfect up on his shoulders. Connie can’t get over the fact that Javier has a family, The three of you were on your way to get ice cream and go to a park that Javier knew was relatively safe. 

Ezra: No one would ever think that Ezra had a family. An old partner ran into him with you and your child. Your child is older, but they are in shock. It was suspicious that Ezra never talked about his family, but it was something that he kept close to his heart. HIs memories were his own and he didn’t want to share you and your child with anyone. 

Mando: He doesn’t get back to the covert often enough, but when he does, he’s completely different. He is relaxed, letting his ad climb all over him. They are careful not to try to pull his helmet off. His helmet is nearly always leaning against yours in a keldaba kiss. His voice is heard more around you and your ad than any other time. 

Catfish: Frankie is on alert, but also more relaxed than most have ever seen. He has scoped out the park when you arrived and obviously keeps tabs on kids. He lets them play, get absolutely filthy and just grins at you when you scold him for letting the youngest eat dirt. “Dirt never hurt anyone, babe.” He shrugs and knows he might have to hose the kids off in the front yard before you let them in the house. 

Tovar: Scowling. Even as he is rolling around on the ground with his brats. All the village children flock to the mercenary when he is home. For one so fearsome, the little ones love him. Might be because he is a big kid himself, rough housing with them and teaching them to fight and defend themselves. 

Agent Whiskey: Sad......he’s drunk and has passed out on top of the grave. Wishing that he hadn’t fucked up and lost you after also losing his wife and his unborn son. Wondering what his child looks like now, although he knows that Champ knows where the two of you are. He won’t tell Jack until he gets his shit straight. 

Marcus Pike: He’s got the day planned out!!! Breakfast/brunch at his girl’s favorite restaurant followed up by a few events that he had scoped out in the local section of the paper. Pottery painting? Yes. A story time with the author of a new children’s book? Absolutely. This man is loving getting to spend time with you and the kids. To be the father he wants to be and not be pressed by work. 

Max Phillips: Grumpy as fuck. While he can be outside, the sun hurts after too long. SPF 100 and dark tinted sunglasses only go so far. Especially when your evil ass decided family day was at the beach. However, he’s in the water with his evil little hybrid kiddo as often as they want. The sharks peace the fuck out when he’s in the water. They know they aren’t the top of the food chain when they smell him in the water. 

Oberyn: Fighting. That’s how this man loves to spend time with his little Snakes of all ages. Including the ones that are still attached to the breast. He will hold the littlest one in his arms while he spars with his younger daughters. You might kill the Red Viper yourself but he just smirks at you before he looks down at the youngest in his arms and kisses their head. “I will not let them get hurt, dove.” 

Dave York: Look, he might be murder daddy, but this man loves his kids. He’s going to sigh and roll his eyes at the idea of going to the fucking place with the dancing animatronic rat that he wants to shoot, but he’s gonna do it. He’s not going to be happy about it, but thank fucking God they serve beer there now. It’s kind of cute/hot to see this grumpy ass assassin standing around ChuckECheese with a glower on his face while his precious daughters run around like crazy. He looks like every other parent in the place. 

Marcus Moreno: It’s an event for the Heroics and their families. He’s uncomfortable but all that matters is spending time with you and Missy. He rolls his eyes when Miracle Man tries turning the friends games into a competition but rises to the challenge. You smirk and just keep the camera on the two of them as Missy and her father proceed to show the rest of the Heroics why they were chosen to the leaders. 

Max Lord: Family day is a pretty low key affair now. Before the dream stone events there wouldn’t have been a family day, too wrapped up in achieving greatness. Now, it’s Saturday morning cartoons and breakfast together, followed up by a trip to the park or one of the public pools to go swimming. Whatever Alistair wants to do. 

Zach Wellison: Movies. This man loves to take his kids to the movies. Especially in the summer when they have the specials going on at the theaters. You pay a set price and get to see 2-3 kids movies. He is right beside them, giggling and munching on the huge bucket of popcorn while they watch the older kids movies that a few are even from his own childhood. Whispering in the dark about how he saw these when he was there age and just generally loving the time he gets to spend with all of you. 100% snuck milk duds in so you didn’t pay $5 a box from the concession stand. 

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[mrsalwayswrite]

To Be My Night And My Day - Part 2

Summary: Hvitserk has been your best friend since childhood, the one you can always rely on. So when you start doubting your current relationship with Sihtric, Hvitserk kindly offers to help you out….but the consequences are never what you expected. 

Pairing- Sihtric x Plus Size!Reader & Hvitserk x Plus Size!Reader

Warnings: Angst, tears, soft boys

Words: 3k

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius @evelynshelby @pomegranates-and-blood @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @geekandbooknerd @adrille88 @dini73 @flowers-in-your-hayr​ (lemme know if you want to be added or deleted)

Catch up with Part 1

Sunlight streamed through the window in your home, warming your skin, as you tended to the few herb pots on the window sill. A pleased grin resided on your face as you took in how the plants were thriving. They had been a gift from Queen Aslaug for your last name day. You could not wait to tell her how alive and vibrant they were….unlike your prior attempts. 

 At the sound of the door opening, you looked over your shoulder to see Sihtric come in. You smiled at him, ready to make a quip about him getting off early from training. The tease died on your tongue when you really took in his appearance. His shoulders were hunched over, like he carried the weight of the world there. Each movement, each step, was slow and deliberate as if moving through a fog. Even the couple warrior braids on one side of his head were thoroughly disheveled. You wondered what had caused him to run his hand over them so aggressively and frequently. Yet it was the frown that marred his handsome face and the distant look in his dark eyes that caused a concerned churning in your gut.  

 "Sihtric, what's wrong?" You fully turned around, dusting the little bit of dirt off your fingers. 

 Carefully, he unhooked his sword belt, moving methodically, and laid it on the table with that far off glaze still over his eyes. His soft lips were pressed together in a thin line. It was not until he began walking in your direction that he lifted his gaze to meet yours. His arms wrapped around you, pulling your full frame against him. You immediately placed your arms around his neck, laying your head on his chest. Beneath your ear, you could hear his unsteady heartbeat and his shallow breathing. Internally, you attempted to quell your own fear, knowing Sihtric needed comfort right now, for whatever had caused his distress. This was the first time you had ever seen him act this way, and truthfully, it frightened you. 

 You started to massage the back of his neck with your hand, lightly squeezing and rubbing it in a way you knew soothed him. In response, his arms tightened around you, somehow drawing you even closer as if he wanted to meld your bodies into one. His head rested on yours, and for a moment you thought you heard a sniffle but you were uncertain. 

 A handful of minutes passed before you decided to break the silence. "Sihtric? What happened?"

 "I'm going to ask you a question…." he whispered, "....and I need you to answer honestly."

 "Of course."

 "Did Hvitserk and you have sex recently?"

 Immediately, you felt as if you had plunged into a frozen lake. Ice filled your veins, even as you tensed. It had been two days since Hvitserk and you slept together, and you had truly hoped that the blond prince had taken to heart your begging for him not to say anything to Sihtric. Guilt had clawed away continuously at your mind ever since Hvitserk walked out of your home, determined to find your man. But that night when Sihtric returned from guard duty, a tired smile on his face and a lingering kiss to your lips, you knew Hvitserk had not found him. So you had hoped, and prayed, that this would all blow over somehow. 

 Yet the truth was, a Pandora's box had been awakened in you. For even now, you still thought of Hvitserk in your bed, confessing his devotion to you. And you desperately wanted to make love to him again. 

 "So, he was telling the truth…." Sihtric stated blandly. His arms unwound from around your waist, then grabbed yours from around his neck and dropped them like they had physically burned him. Without another word, he stepped back away from you, creating distance that felt so much more than just physical. 

 Your heart shattered like broken pottery at your feet with the utter look of betrayal on his face. "Please, lemme ex‐‐" 

 He held his hand up, cutting you off. Your mouth audibly snapped shut. Silently, you watched him take several shallow breaths, hands on his hips, as if trying to internalize his anger and pain, to make sure he did not lash out at you. 

 At this moment though, you wish he would. Anything would be better than watching him attempt to hide his pain, his heart tearing in two. You wish he would scream at you. But this was Sihtric. He was too good, too kind, too caring to lash out at you. It only wrecked your heart even more. 

 "Sihtric, please, it was--" 

 "I trusted you." He cut you off again. A tear slid down his cheek before he hastily wiped it away. "I thought….I thought you were happy with me. I know we haven't known each other long but….I guess I should have expected this."

 "What?"

 "I have seen the way you and Hvitserk look at each other. You always explained it away as being best friends, but I know….in my gut I knew there was more to it. But I trusted you. You're the only woman besides my mother I've ever trusted….and cared for."

 Tears streamed down your cheeks and dripped onto your ample chest, a physical manifestation of the river of anguish coursing through you. "I am happy with you."

 "Then why?! I don't understand!"

 "Because….ugh, it seems so stupid now."

 "Am I not enough for you? I know he's a prince and I'm only a bastard but you said that didn't matter. Has that changed?" He took another step back, furthering the void growing between you two. 

 You wanted to reach out to him, to bridge the gap, to just touch him and hope he felt your sorrow. But the crestfallen look on his face, the dejection in his dark eyes stayed your hand. "No, I promise." You pleaded, hoping he could hear the truth in your words. "I don't care that you're a bastard."

 "Then why?!" He demanded, another tear rolling down his cheek. "Why would you do that? To me? To us?!"

 "Because I thought you were going to leave me!" You cried out. There it was. The painful truth. You never expected him to truly stay. But once you got a taste of him, knew what it was like to be cherished….you never wanted to let him go. 

 His eyes widened and mouth opened slightly as he took in your words. "What?" 

 This time it was you who stepped away. You turned your back on him, your stomach churning and for a moment you worried you might vomit. "I've seen you talking lately more with the shieldmaidens, laughing with them, training with them…."

 "So, it is jealousy? You decided to get back at me by letting Hvitserk fuck you?" He accused. 

 "No!" You whipped back around, frustration and sorrow creating an explosive concoction in your heart. "Gods! That's not…."

 "What is it then?"

 "I figured you were talking to them because you disliked having sex with me and were looking for someone….new. Someone who would be more interesting and knowledgeable and….and prettier. Just, someone not like me."

 This time he looked utterly destroyed after your explanation. "What?"

 "Why else would you be leaving immediately after we have sex? Or….or stay out so late? I just thought I was becoming boring to you….which I understand…."

 "And Hvitserk?"

 You shrugged. "He offered to help try and boost my confidence….in the bedroom….hopefully that would make you want to stay. I didn't know he had….feelings until after."

 He scrubbed his hands over his face as he heaved a deep sigh. Turning, he placed his hands on the back of a nearby chair as if to ground himself.

 "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Sihtric." You mumbled through your tears, as you pressed a hand to your mouth, desperately trying to suppress the sobs rising up in your throat. "Please just….I'm so sorry."

 He shook his head, his voice morose. To your surprise, he chuckled darkly before speaking again. "No, I'm sorry. It's my fault. It's all my fault."

 "What? No…." 

 He turned around, a wetness on his cheeks that had not been there prior. "I should have told you….I just…." His voice trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor. 

 "Sihtric? What? Told me what?"

 "I love you!" He blurted out. 

 All the air vanished from your home. Your lungs struggled to expand, leaving your mouth gaping open. A kick to the chest from a horse would have been less painful than his admission. You could only stare at him as his declaration bounced around in your brain but refused to settle. "You….you do?"

 Slowly he walked over and tenderly held your hands in his, the battle-hardened calluses a contradiction from your own soft hands. Those dark eyes you loved stayed focused on your clasped hands as he spoke softly. "I know we haven't been together long….but I've known it for a while. You're special. Before you I never wanted to open up, trust was something that was hard. A quick fuck was easy, but to linger, to find myself wanting to hold you in my arms all night, to see your sleepy, sated face in the morning light. That was new. And it scared me. Somehow you changed all that. The more time we spent together, the more I hated to be away from you. That's how I knew….that's how I knew I loved you."

 "Why did you never say anything?"

 He chuckled, thumbs rubbing on the back of your hands. "I almost did. Gods, so many times. After we'd make love. Sometimes in the morning, seeing you laying in our bed. When I'd come back from training or guard duty and you'd greet me with that sweet smile on your face and a kiss….so many times I had to bite my tongue to keep the words from spilling forth."

 Everything clicked in that moment. And if it was possible for your heart to shatter even more, yours surely had. "That's why you would leave….it wasn't because you didn't like me…."

 "Never."

 "Sihtric, I love you too." You choked out amidst a sob. "I wish you had said something."

 "I couldn't."

 "Why not?"

 Finally, he raised his eyes to meet yours, a smile full of hopelessness on his lips. "Because I knew Hvitserk was in love with you, just as much as you're in love with him."

 "But…."

 "I know you always said you're best friends, but it's obvious to anyone who looks past the facade. There was always more underneath. The way you two gravitate to each other, the lingering looks and touches, the comfortability there….I always figured I was just someone to pass the time with, until the two of you finally confessed to one another. I just never expected it would be my fault that it'd finally happen."

 "Oh Sihtric, I'm so sorry." You cried, no longer able to restrain your sobs. Sihtric pulled you against him, letting you bury your head against his broad chest as you bled out your heartache. With the way his chest rose and fell rapidly and the wetness against your hair, you knew he was silently crying with you. For the miscommunication. For the betrayal. For all the unspoken hopes and dreams both of you had carried, now trampled and laying broken at your feet. 

 After some time, when both of your tears subsided, you continued to cling to one another like that would somehow stem the outpouring of your bleeding hearts. 

 The dark-haired Viking broke the silence tainted with misery. "He said he wanted to fight me. For you. Over you. How he can't live without you now….and will do anything to have you."

 "Will you?" You cautiously asked, face still pressed to his wet tunic. "Will you fight him?"

 "Do you want me too?" 

 You lifted your head, wanting to see his face as you answered. "I don't want you to fight. Either one of you. I'm not….I'm not worth it."

 "You're worth everything." He replied, cupping your cheek so tenderly it caused a fresh wave of tears to fill your eyes. 

 "Sihtric….please don't. I couldn't bear it if you got hurt….either one of you."

 "Then you need to decide."

 Your heart stuttered in your chest, your breath catching. "What do you mean?"

 "Y/n, my love…." He rubbed his thumb over your cheek, collecting the evidence of your sorrow. "You have to choose one of us."

 You shook your head. "I don't….I can't….Sihtric."

 His thumb continued to run along your cheek as he gazed at you, a swirl of emotions in his eyes that pierced you like an arrow. After a long moment, he nodded and dropped his hand. "I'll leave. Let you think in peace. Just know….whatever your decision, I'll respect it." 

 "Sihtric…." You begged, but what more could you say?

 After pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, he released you from his strong arms. He stared at you helplessly, further shredding any remnants of your heart left. With that, he quickly turned and walked away, snatching his sword belt off the table, not even bothering to take the time to put it on before he was out the door. 

 Soon as the door softly closed behind him, you dropped to the ground with soul-wracking sobs. 

 It was selfish, you knew. There were two handsome, perfect men both asking for your devotion, both desiring you, both wanting you to choose them over the other. How could you possibly choose? You wanted them both. Needed them both. It was so selfish. 

 But it was the gods-forsaken truth. 

 ***** 

 You cried yourself to sleep that night. 

 And the next night, when Sihtric did not return home. 

 Hvitserk found you the next morning, still lying in bed. Your throat was hoarse from all your crying and your eyes felt permanently dry and red-rimmed. Curled under your furs in your thin shift, the desire to leave your warm nest was nonexistent. Food and drink had barely passed your lips. You knew it was all your own fault. Yet you wallowed in your misery, unable to escape its tenacious pull. Your thoughts swirled like a cyclone in your mind, a force of destruction you could not flee from. No matter how much you wanted to.  

 For how could you choose one over the other? 

 Without a word, he crawled into the bed with you, tucking your body against his in a warm embrace. Without a second thought you melted against him, desperate for the safe haven he provided in the stormy seas of your mind. Your full figure snuggled against his lean form in a way that was effortless, like your bodies were made for this embrace. Exhausted from your lack of sleep and excessive crying, it did not take long for you to drift in and out of sleep, sniffling pathetically when awake. He never commented on your deplorable state of being, just held you tight, an anchor in your waves. 

 "My sweet," Hvitserk kissed the top of your head as he soothingly ran a hand up and down your back, "don't cry. The Norns will decide."

 "Please don't fight him, please Hvitserk. I couldn't take it if either of you were injured."

 "Hmmm….what did he say?"

 You sniffled pathetically, throat raw as you spoke. "He said I had to choose."

 "And?" He encouraged quietly. 

 "Oh, Serk, I'm so selfish." You lamented, gripping the front of his tunic, now ruined by your tears. "Thor strike me down! I can't. I can't choose. I love you both. Gods, I'm so selfish."

 This would be the reason for him to walk away. You were sure of it. Even after all of your years of friendship, you were unable to choose him over your lover, someone you had only known for two years. Why would the blond prince stay? There were plenty of women who would willingly fill his bed. Why would he waste his time on someone like you?

 And Sihtric. Someone who clearly gave you their all- their trust, their love, their hopes and dreams. Surely, he could easily find someone new. Someone better than you. Why would he fight for you?

 How selfish were you to hurt both of these men you loved….and for some reason they loved you too. 

 Suddenly, you felt him nuzzle your hair. "You love me?" He whispered. 

 "Yes."

 He hummed, a hand drawing random patterns on your back as if in thought. "And you love him?"

 "Yes." You choked out, a fresh wave of remorse and self-loathing crashing over you. 

 Gently, he tipped your face up to draw you into a kiss. A soft press of mouths, urging you to respond, to sink into the comfort he so willingly offered. You clung to him as your lips moved in tandem, seeking the momentarily solace provided. 

 You pulled back eventually, opening your eyes to meet his green orbs. "Serk?"

 "It'll all work out, beautiful. You'll see." He assured with a smile, drawing you back to his sweet lips. 

 Even with his confident words, you were left unsure if you could believe him. 

 Or if your fractured heart could even try. 

Part 3

#mzwrites #to be my night and my day #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #vikings imagine #hvitserk x reader #Hvitserk x you #hvitserk x plus size reader #Hvitserk #Hvitserk Ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #The Last Kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fandom #the last kingdom imagine #Sihtric #sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x you #sihtric x plus size reader

[thewidowsghost]

Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 1

So, I started this on my Wattpad, and if figured I'd just put it on here! Just tell me if you want me to add you to the taglist!

Percy's POV

My name is Percy Jackson.

I am twelve years old. I'm a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York, and my sister, (Y/n), taking online schooling at home.

Am I a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan—twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

I know—it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.

But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep.

I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.

See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course, I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that...Well, you get the idea.

On this trip, I was determined to be good.

All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwiches that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew I couldn't do anything back to her because I was already on probation. The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

"I'm going to kill her," I mumble.

Grover tries to calm me down. "I'm okay. I like peanut butter -" He dodges another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it." I start to get up, but Grover pulls me back to my seat.

"You're already on probation," he reminds me. "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."

Mr. Brunner leads the museum tour.

He rides up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery.

It blows my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years.

He gathers us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and starts telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was devil spawn. She would point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month.

One time, after she'd made me erase answers out of old math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at me, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

Mr. Brunner keeps talking about Greek funeral art.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickers something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turn around and say, "Will you shut up?"

It comes out louder than I meant it to.

The whole group laughs. Mr. Brunner stops his story. "Mr. Jackson," he says, "did you have a comment?"

My face is totally red, I think. I answer, "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner points to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

I look at the carving, and feel a flush of relief, because I actually recognize it. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner says, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because..."

"Well..." I rack my brain to remember. (Y/n) would have known the answer. She was nuts for this kind of stuff. "Kronos was the king god, and —"

"God?" Mr. Brunner asks.

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

"Eeew!" says one of the girls behind me.

"—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," I continue, "and the gods won."

Some snickers from the group.

Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbles to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner says, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover mutters.

"Shut up," Nancy hisses, her face even brighter red than her hair.

At least Nancy got packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears.

I think about his question, and shrug. "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looks disappointed. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifts off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Jackson."

I knew that was coming.

I tell Grover to keep going; then I turn toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?" Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go—intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything. "You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner tells me.

"About the Titans?"

'"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"What you learn from me," he says, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!" and challenged us, swordpoint against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C– in my life. No—he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumble something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner takes one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He tells me to go outside and eat my lunch.

The class gathers on the front steps of the museum, where we can watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm is brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figure maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seems to notice, though. Some of the guys are pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit is trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds isn't seeing a thing.

Grover and I sit on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school—the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius, not like (Y/n). She seems to know everything."

Grover doesn't say anything for a while. Then, when I think he is going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he asks, "Can I have your apple?"

I don't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.

I watch the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and think about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sit. I hadn't seen her or my sister since Christmas. I want so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. Mom and (Y/n) would hug me and be glad to see me, but Mom would be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I couldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized café table.

I am about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appears in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumps her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grins at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles are orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.

I try to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." But I am so mad my mind went blank. A wave roars in my ears.

I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy is sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—"

"—the water—"

"—like it grabbed her—"

I don't know what they were talking about. All I know is that I was in trouble again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds is sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turns on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—"

"I know," I grumble. "A month erasing workbooks." That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds says.

"Wait!" Grover yelps. "It was me. I pushed her."

I stare at him, stunned. I can't believe he was trying to cover for me. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

She glares at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she says.

"But—"

"You—will—stay—here."

Grover looks at me desperately.

"It's okay, man," I tell him. "Thanks for trying."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barks at me. "Now."

Nancy Bobofit smirks. I give her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. Then I turn to face Mrs. Dodds, but she isn't there. She is standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

How'd she get there so fast?

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure. I go after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, I glance back at Grover. He is looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner is absorbed in his novel.

I look back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She is now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

Okay, I think. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop.

But apparently, that wasn't the plan.

I follow her deeper into the museum. When I finally catch up to her, we are back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery is empty.

Mrs. Dodds stands with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She is making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze as if she wanted to pulverize it...

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she says.

I do the safe thing. I reply, "Yes, ma'am."

She tugs on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in her eyes is beyond mad. It was evil.

She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt me. I say, "I'll—I'll try harder, ma'am."

Thunder shakes the building.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

I didn't know what she's talking about.

All I can think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

"Well?" she demands.

"Ma'am, I don't..."

"Your time is up," she hisses.

Then the weirdest thing happens. Her eyes begin to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretch, turning into talons. Her jacket melts into large, leathery wings. She isn't human. She is a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheels his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouts and tosses the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunges at me.

With a yelp, I dodge and feel talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatch the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hits my hand, it isn;t a pen anymore. It is a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always uses on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spins towards me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees are jelly. My hands are shaking so bad I almost drop the sword.

She snarl, "Die, honey!" And she flies straight at me.

Absolute terror runs through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swing the sword.

The metal blade hits her shoulder and passes clean through her body as if she was made of water. Hisss!

Mrs. Dodds was a sandcastle in a power fan. She explodes into yellow powder, vaporizing on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes are still watching me.

I'm alone.

There is a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner isn't there. Nobody is there but me.

My hands are still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I walk back outside.

It had started to rain.

Grover is sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit is still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she sees me, she says, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

I answer, "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

I blink. We don't have a teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I ask Nancy what she is talking about.

She just rolls her eyes and turns away.

I ask Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

"Who?" he asks, but he pauses first and he wouldn't look at me, so I figure he was messing with me.

"Not funny, man," I tell him. "This is serious."

Thunder booms overhead.

I see Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book as if he'd never moved.

I go over to him.

He looks up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

I had Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it.

"Sir," I ask, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stares blankly at me, "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowns and sits forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

Word Count: 3159 words

So yeah, this is the first chapter of this book.

Not much (Y/n) yet, but we'll get there.

Love y'all!              Kaitlynn ❤️😍

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