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[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: alien intelligences

Intelligent spiders, octupi, plants, bacteria, and even entire oceans, intelligence without sentience, extra terrestrials and strange intelligences evolved right here on Earth - alien minds can take many forms. Allow me to share with you some books featuring the most alien and fascinating ones.

Previous book rec posts:

Really cool fantasy worldbuilding, really cool sci-fi worldbuilding, dark sapphic romances, mermaid books, vampire books, many worlds: portal fantasies, many worlds: alternate timelines, robots and artificial intelligences, post- and transhumanism

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

The Doors of Eden by Adrian Tchaikovsky*

The Doors of Eden is something of an experiment in speculative biology, featuring versions of Earth in which various different species were the one to rise to sentience, from dinosaurs to neanderthals. Now, something is threatening the existence of all timelines, dragging multiple different people and species into the struggle, among those a pair of cryptid hunting girlfriends and a transgender scientist.

Children of Time by Adrian Tchaikovsky*

Millenia and generation spanning scifi. After the collapse of an empire, a planet once part of a project to uplift other species to sentience is left to develop on its own, resulting not in the intelligent monkeys once intended but in sentient giant spiders. Millenia later, what remains of humanity arrives looking for a new home, only to be met by the artificial remains of the ancient woman who once led the uplift project - and she is not willing to let them on her planet.

Semiosis (Semiosis duology) by Sue Burke

A generational story following a group of humans trying to survive on a new planet, where a strange and unkowable intelligence is finding ways to use them to its whims. As the humans come across an abandoned city wrapped in the roots of a strange plant, they slowly come to the realization that mutual communication is the only path to peace and survival.

The Three-Body Problem by Cixin Liu

While I felt the characters could’ve been better developed, this is undeniably a well-written novel featuring an alien race and culture developed on a planet vastly different from ours. Firmly in the realm of hard scifi, this is a realistic, fascinating and slightly terrifying look at how first contact may look.

Brain Plague (The Elysium Cycle) by Joan Sloncewski*

Chrys, a struggling artist, agrees to become a carrier for a sentient strain of microbes. With their help, Chrys breathes new life into her career. But every microbe society is different - some function as friends and brain enhancers to their carrier, while others become a literal brain plague, a living addiction taking over the life of their carrier. And like every society, the microbe community is in constant flux - inluding the one inside Chrys's head.

Rosewater (The Wormwood trilogy) by Tade Thompson

In Nigeria lies Rosewater, a city bordering on a strange, alien biodome. Its motives are unknown, but it’s having an undeniable effect on the surrounding life. Kaaro, former criminal and current psychic agent for the government, is one of the people changed by it. When other psychics like him begin getting killed, Kaaro must take it upon himself to find out the truth about the biodome and its intentions.

Dawn (Xenogenesis trilogy) by Octavia E. Butler*

After a devestating war leaves humanity on the brink of extinction, survivor Lilith finds herself waking up naked and alone in a strange room. She’s been rescued by the Oankali, who have arrived just in time to save the human race. But there’s a price to survival, and it might be humanity itself. Absolutely fucked up I love it I once had to drop the book mid read to stare at the ceiling and exclaim in horror at what was going on.

Blindsight by Peter Watts*

Vampires and aliens and questions of the nature of consciousnesses, oh my. A ship is sent to investigate the sudden appearance of an alien vessel at the edge of the solar system, but the crew, a group of various level of transhumanism, isn’t prepared for the horrors awaiting them. No, seriously, this book will fuck you up, highly recommend if you’re okay with a lot of techno babble and existential horror.

Midnight Robber by Nalo Hopkinson*

Utterly unique in world-building, story, and prose, Midnight Robber follows young Tan-Tan and her father, inhabitants of the Carribean-colonized planet of Toussaint. When her father commits a terrible crime, he’s exiled to a parallel version of the same planet, home to strange aliens and other human exiles. Tan-Tan, not wanting to lose her father, follows with him. Trapped on this new planet, he becomes her worst nightmare. Enter this book with caution, as it contains graphic child sexual abuse.

Fragment (Fragment duology) by Warren Fahy*

The reality TV show Sealife is having a rough time - as it turns out, a ship full of scientist doesn’t make for the kind of drama they hoped for. Hoping for some excitement, they reach Hender's Island, a fragment of a lost continent that may contain an interesting new ecosystem. But as they step foot on the island, they quickly come to realize the ecosystem isn’t just new, it’s highly dangerous and very hungry. Among all this life is one single species that may be more dangerous than any other, but which may also be the salvation of the scientists on the island. A bit wonky, but genuinely one of the most fun books I have read, I love it so much.

Axiom's End (Noumena trilogy) by Lindsay Ellis

It’s 2007, and a leak has just confirmed that the US has reached alien contact. Cora wants nothing to do with it, but as her absent father is the whistleblower who dropped the news the media won’t leave her alone. Even worse, she soon finds herself meeting and being pursued by the alien presence itself as it tries to remain in hiding - and discovering that there is a much larger threat on the horizon.

The Road to Roswell by Connie Willis*

Francie has just traveled to Roswell to attend her college friend's wedding to a UFO conspirasist. Not a believer herself, Francie is shocked when she finds herself abducted by an alien. Her abductor is not much what popular media would have you believe, looking more like a tumbleweed than a grey alien, and is clearly on some kind of mission it isn’t willing to put on hold for the sake of Francie attending to her duties as a bridesmaid. As more people get roped along - among those a conman, an old lady, a ufo conspirasist, and a retiree with an RV - Francie finds herself getting closer to the alien and wanting to help it succeed.

Bonus rec: if you like this book, you may also enjoy the movie Paul, which has a similarly humorous tone and similar plot.

Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir*

Ryland Grace just woke up up from a coma, unable to remember anything. He finds himself alone on a space ship, and as his memories slowly trickle back, he realizes he's been sent on a mission: to find a solution to the impending doom of the earth. Still struggling with holes in his memories, Ryland tries to fulfill his mission, but as he gets closer to his goal, he discovers someone else got there first. And they aren't anything close to human. Funny, heartfelt, and heavy on the science.

Survival by Julie E. Czerneda

Mac, a biologist studying salmon on Earth, has little interest in life beyond her own planet. Despite this, she’s sought out by Brymn, an alien archaeologist hoping her expertise as a biologist can help him solve the secret behind the Chasm, a region of space completely devoid of life. Trying as she might not to get incolved, Mac has little choice as she and her colleagues come under attack by the mysterious Ro, the species Brymn's people suspect to be the cause of the Chasm.

Translation State by Ann Leckie*

An exploration of the alien as filtered through the human. At what point does the human become something else? When does something else become human? Is it a question of biology or culture, nature or nurture? Can we choose it? Can it be forced upon us? Set in the Imperial Radch universe, Translation State follows three different characters embroiled in the question of what makes a human. The alien Presger can only communicate with humans using their translators - people they’ve created that are not quite human and not quite alien. But as news of a translator fugitive arises, conflict brews regarding what right they have to choose their own identity and home.

Exo (Exo duology) by Fonda Lee*

Young adult. Earth has long since been under the control of an alien presence. Donovan Reyes is an exo, a human enhanced with alien technology, working to keep the colony and its people safe. The biggest enemy is Sapience, a terrorist organisation opposing alien rule by any means necessary. When a mission goes awry, Donovan finds himself abducted by Sapiance, something that risks a war. While it took until the second book for me to be fully sold on this series, it features a genuinely nuanced take on oppression and resistance rarely seen in YA genre.

Needle by Hal Clement

1950s classic. A small island in the pacific ocean and a fourteen-year-old boy have just become the center of an interstellar chase between an alien Hunter and the criminal he's pursuing. Robert is a regular boy, but he has a very special passenger: an alien symbiont hiding inside his body. The alien became stranded on Earth as he pursued a criminal of his own species, and now they are both trapped on the same island, playing a game of cat and mouse as Robert and the Hunter struggle to find their prey before it finds them.

The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (Wayfarers series) by Becky Chambers

Rosemary Harper just got a job on the motley crew of the Wayfarer, a spaceship that works with tunneling new wormholes through space. With a past she wants to leave behind, Rosemary is happy to travel the far reaches of the universe with the chaotic crew, but when they land the job of a life time, things suddenly get a lot more dangerous. A bit of a tumblr classic in its day, this is a cozy space opera with an episodic feel and vividly realized characters and cultures.

Under the Skin by Michel Faber

A dark allegory of alienation and dehumanization, Under the Skin follows Isserley, a woman traveling along the roads of England and picking up hitchhikers. Little does her passengers know, she’s an alien hiding her true self, and they are her prey and a delicacy for her species.

Solaris by Stanislaw Lem

1960s Polish classic. Arriving on a station orbiting the planet Solaris, Kris Kelvin is meant to study the strange, possibly sentient ocean that covers its entire surface. But the effects of the ocean are far reaching - Kelvin finds the crew of the station secretive and unstable, and is shocked to wake one day to the embodiement of a long dead lover. Was it created by the brain-like ocean, and if so, why?

West of Eden (West of Eden trilogy) by Harry Harrison

65 million years ago, the meteor that killed the dinosaurs never arrived. Without it, the dinosaurs lived and thrived, allowing a the complex society of the matriarchal Yilanè to arise. Meanwhile, in the new world, humans still evolve, and when an impending ice age forces the Yilanè across the ocean in search for a new home, the two are destined to clash. A bleak story of the cycle of violence and hate leading to war, West of Eden is a marvel of world-building.

Bonus AKA I haven't read these yet but they seem really cool

Triptych by J.M. Frey

Kalp is a widower and alien refugee newly arrived on Earth; Gwen is a language expert secretly recruited by the United Nations to help integrate a ship of alien refugees; Basil is an engineer who loves them both. Together they must defend their relationship against a violently intolerant world.

The Sparrow (The Sparrow duology) by Mary Doria Russell

When proof of alien life is found, the United Nations are too slow in their plans for a first contact mission. Instead, the Society of Jesus overtake them and send their own ship, but the crew could never have been prepared for what they will find.

Lagoon by Nnedi Okorafor

Something massive and alien crashes into the ocean off the coast of Nigeria. Three people, a marine biologist, a rapper, and a soldier, find themselves encountering this presence, and have to race to save humanity before it's too late.

Honorary mentions AKA these didn't really work for me but maybe you guys will like them: Salvaged by Madeleine Roux, Exodus by Nicky Drayden, The Lesson by Cadwell Turnbull, Embassytown by China Miéville

#nella talks books #the doors of eden #children of time #semiosis #the three-body problem #brain plague #rosewater #xenogenesis #blindsight #midnight robber #fragment #axioms end #the road to roswell #project hail mary #species imperative #translation state #exo #needle #the long way to a small angry planet #under the skin #solaris #west of eden #there are more alien centric books that I love #but this list is pretty focused on books where the truly alien unkowable and inhuman is central #so anything featuring human looking or acting aliens got disqualified #same as books where the aliens themselves weren’t very central #also i need you all to know that i have had official art of the 'alien' from Fragment as my screensaver for a decade #that book is so silly goofy dialogue and absolute gory slaughter i love it so much #i still have one of these rec posts in my drafts but! will soon post a new poll in preparation for more

[kamaluhkhan]

COMPLICATED

LUST — part iv of we'll write sins like tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 8.9k summary: the lives of demigods are never simple. why would your relationship with luke be any different? or: four moments of tension + one moment of release. featuring a trip to montauk with percy, grover, and annabeth warnings: a decent amount of reader backstory (mention of dad having cancer); multiple POVs (percy, grover, annabeth, luke, reader - obv nothing suggestive/smutty until luke and reader POV); luke + reader get into arguments and are v stressed so their relationship is a bit strained; reader has tattoos; reader is on birth control; rough smut (protected + unprotected p in v, oral f+m receiving, biting, scratching, slight choking, slight breeding kink, etc...); also slight dark + possessive luke! (18 + MDNI); major angst — we all know how this story ends ;( author's note: this was meant to be a blurb but...here we are! this is basically another chapter of my spill ur guts series lol. i've been gone for much longer than i planned to, but hope u enjoy possibly the angstiest, smuttiest thing i've written so far ♡

♪ "complicated" by avril lavigne

i. 

in the span of a few minutes, percy went from pure joy — being greeted with cheers from all the campers was great, sure, but truthfully the hug from annabeth alone sent him to elysium — to feeling like his heart dropped all the way to tartarus.

which is definitely not a place percy ever wants to visit again. he was happy to be back at camp with his friends, knowing that his quest was completed, his mom was safe in new york, and a war between the gods was prevented.

it should be over….but there’s something in the back of percy’s mind that’s telling him it isn’t. seeing a certain someone in the crowd earlier didn’t do anything to ease that feeling.

"can someone explain to me why clarisse is still here?" 

you raise an eyebrow at luke, and he shrugs in response.  it seems neither of you had decided who should break the news, and neither of you seem particularly excited to do so, even after dragging percy, along with annabeth and grover, into the empty hermes cabin for some privacy.

after another beat of silence, you take the lead.

“look, kid, i know you and clarisse got off to a rocky start —”

“she tried to drown me, and then basically kill me during capture the flag,” percy points out. he hears an ocean roaring at the memory, but that could have also been from his duel with clarisse’s dad, the god of war, more recently.

a duel that percy had won, for the record. luke trained him well.

“and i’m not defending that,” you clarify. “i’m just saying that we’ve known clarisse for much longer. she’s not perfect, maybe a bit aggressive sometimes — trust me, she and i have had some major disagreements, too — but i can’t see her doing something like this.”

“why would anyone at camp want to steal the bolt? to join kronos’ army against the gods?” annabeth wonders. to herself or to the group, percy isn’t sure, but he has a feeling that the wheels in her mind are turning.

“revenge, maybe?” grover suggests. 

almost instinctively, grover glances at you, and so does annabeth. percy wants to kick himself for doing the same. 

with you being the daughter of nemesis, he imagines that it's not the first time you’d been blamed for something just because of who you are. it’s a feeling percy knows all too well. and, for better or for worse, like percy, it seems like you’re not one to accept these things without a fight.

you straighten your shoulders, ready to snap back, but before you can, luke declares:

“it’s not her.”

he then knocks the toe of his shoe against your combat boot. you smile and return the gesture. the tension eases out of the room.

for a second, percy wonders if he’ll ever have someone like that: someone to defend like it’s second nature, to share that sort of secret language with, to smile at him like nothing else in the world matters. 

according to annabeth, the two of you weren’t technically dating — but percy is pretty sure that aphrodite is swooning over you. 

“see, grove? if camp half-blood’s golden boy can vouch for me, then i’m in the clear.” your tone is playful enough — no hard feelings — but the tips of grover’s ears still turn red. “i didn’t steal the bolt. sure, the gods and titans can tear each other apart for all i care — " 

annabeth stiffens at your bold statement, and grover starts to nervously chew on an empty diet coke can he had stashed in his pocket. luke watches you with the hint of a smile on his face, and percy —

well, percy can’t help but admire you even more. 

"— but it's everything else that i have an issue with.”

“everything else?”

you look at percy like the answer is obvious. 

“when have the gods ever fought their battles without us as collateral damage? doesn’t seem worth it to me, to betray my friends.” 

that itch in the back of percy’s brain gets harder to ignore.

“the oracle warned me, betrayed by a friend.” 

“prophecies don't always come true,” annabeth reminds him. “at least not in the way we expect them to.” 

“annie is right,” luke adds, nodding at his sister. “mine didn't. the oracle said i would die a hero.” 

you turn to luke then, your eyebrows furrowed. 

“what? you never told me that.” 

“it doesn’t matter,” luke insists. “my point is that i came back from my joke of a quest, alive and a definitely not a hero —”

“fuck what the oracle said.” you roll your eyes. “dead or alive, you are a hero, tiger.”

you move to place a hand on luke’s arm. to percy’s surprise, though, luke brushes you off.

“i’m not a hero. at least not the one my dad expects me to be.”

again, percy is taken aback by how luke snapped, at you of all people. you huff, and percy can tell that you’re a bit agitated now, too. 

“okay, but that doesn’t mean —”

“my point is.” luke turns to percy, effectively blocking your presence for the time being. “you completed your quest, fought a god, and stalled kronos’ plan. you’ve been through it — all three of you have — but now you’re back. let’s just enjoy the rest of our summer, yeah? whatever happened out there, whatever the oracle said, it’s in the past.”

percy wants to believe luke, he really does. one glance in your direction, and it seems like you do, too.

deep down, though, percy isn’t entirely convinced. there’s that dread in the pit of his stomach, that voice in the back of his head. something in him, warning that this isn’t quite over. the worst has yet to come.

he wonders if — or maybe just hopes — you feel the same.

—

ii.

if you of all people can’t get luke’s attention, grover is pretty sure that the world is ending.

“luke,” you try again, foregoing your usual nickname for him. your arms are crossed and you tap your foot against the floor. it makes grover slightly anxious, feeling your frustration threaten to boil over.

“i’m busy,” he grunts, and flips over another page, scribbling something on the other side. 

“grover wanted to talk to us about something.”

“i-it’s fine, we don’t have to —”

“no, it’s a good idea, grove,” you insist. you smile at grover then. he remembers that, despite the deadly glares you can deliver, like the one you were just giving luke, you have a gentle core. you just guard it behind sharp edges. 

“tell him that i’ll talk to him later.”

“or, you could tell him yourself,” you huff. grover waves awkwardly, even though luke doesn’t realize what’s happening. “he’s right next to me.”

luke looks up briefly, and then back down at the pages in front of him just as quick. he looks tired, exhausted even. 

“sorry, man. didn’t see you there. i gotta finish these reports.”

“no worries. i tend to be quiet on my hooves.”

in the moment of silence that follows, and with luke still not giving you the attention you’re asking for, you walk over to the desk where luke is working. what you see seems to make you even more annoyed than before.

“these reports are for september. why in the name of nemesis are you filling them out now?”

“i just want to be prepared.”

“prepared for what?”

luke hesitates. “just….the future.”

“oh!” you laugh, sharp and sarcastic. “i didn’t realize that the future required you to neglect your friends.”

“i’m trying to help my friends,” luke huffs. he taps his pen impatiently against the desk. “if you didn’t keep interrupting me —”

“oh my fucking gods — ”

grover watches the two of you argue. it had been easier to step in whenever something bubbled up between annabeth and percy, because they were just kids. but you and luke — you were adults. 

when grover met luke for the first time, he was already taking on way too much responsibility for a kid — keeping thalia and annabeth alive, protecting them from monsters, taking care of them. in a lot of ways, those responsibilities didn’t go away: as a senior counselor and resident older brother, a hero for the older campers to admire and the younger kids to aspire to be. camp half-blood’s golden boy, as you liked to call him. 

and, like you, luke is good at hiding. for him, its heavy burdens behind easy-going smiles. 

lately, though, those smiles seem to be strained, his shoulders slowly bending under the weight of it all. the other day, grover asked you if everything was okay with luke. you had looked back at him sadly, shrugged, and said you didn’t know.

that’s when grover decided that everyone just needs a break — an escape. he had been sensing that things weren’t quite right with the others, too. percy seems a little on edge, and so does annabeth.

then, of course, there was you and luke. finding out that the two of you had actually started dating was huge news for someone like grover who had painstakingly watched the two of you dance around your feelings for years. so, it was more than a little weird that you’d barely been speaking this past week. the rare occasion you did was tense at best, and explosive at worst. 

like now, when you pick up one of the reports luke was working on, and threaten to burn it. luke dares you to do so, even suggests, albeit sarcastically, that you use it as your next offering to the gods. 

“oh, a handwritten document from luke castellan himself? they would love that,” you snort. “admit it: you’re doing all of mr. d’s work just to suck up to some gods who don’t even give a shit about any of this. you’re practically olympus’ lapdog.”

luke, blushing a furious shade of red, gets up and yanks the paper from your hand.

“at least my parent is important enough to actually have a seat on olympus and an actual cabin for his kids to stay in.”

you look like you could just about throw luke into a fire, and vice versa. grover had never seen the two of you like this, but it made sense: each of you knowing just where, and how, to hurt the other.

and, he thinks it’s about time to step in before the damage is irreversible. so, grover starts slowly clapping. the clapping gets faster, and he manages to get through the first few lines of the consensus song before you stop him.

“alright, alright,” you sigh. you push past luke, steal his chair, and put your feet up on the desk. luke scowls at you, but you put your hands up in surrender and jut your chin out towards grover. “just listen to what grover has to say and then we’ll let you get back to your precious reports.”

grover tells luke his idea. luke actually agrees, and grover can’t help but feel a little bit of a victory. 

he’s a protector, after all. it’s his job to make sure you’re all alive and happy and thriving. and not burnt to a crisp over some petty argument.

—

iii. 

annabeth had missed home when she was away on their quest, but being back and seeing everyone being taught to worship the gods without question, to believe that the only things that matter are power and glory….well, after everything that happened, after percy, annabeth can’t just go back to doing the same. at least not entirely. 

all this to say, she was totally on board with grover’s idea: the five of you, renting a cabin in montauk to get away from camp for a bit.

unfortunately, the trip starts off less than ideally. you and luke bicker the entire way here — and not the playful jabs you usually throw at each other. 

annabeth remembers the first time she saw you together. it was during breakfast, their first morning at camp half-blood. annabeth had spent the night trying not to cry over thalia, and already missing luke even though he was only a few cabins away. she was still a kid, surrounded by strangers, told that she was safe now, but didn’t quite believe it yet. one look to luke at the hermes table, and annabeth could tell he felt the same way, too — not quite settled in this new place that was supposed to be home, and with these people who were supposed to be family.

she watched as the hermes table went to burn offerings to the gods. when they sat down again, luke looked even more unsettled than before.

but then, you leaned in and whispered something in luke’s ear, and he actually laughed, just a bit, which was a nice change of pace. luke was always the one making annabeth and thalia laugh when they were running from monsters, always the one trying to keep everything together with a smile or a joke.

as she devoured her breakfast, annabeth couldn’t help but keep glancing at the two of you. she heard warnings from her half-siblings, about your mother being the goddess of revenge, and you living up to that name. 

luke either didn't know, or didn't care about whatever reputation you had. sitting there, next to you, annabeth didn’t think she’d ever seen luke so, genuinely happy, so at ease.

all these years later, neither you nor luke seemed particularly happy. you’re obviously avoiding each other, and annabeth doesn’t understand why.

you and luke are a new puzzle that she can’t wait to solve. 

annabeth had finished constructing the most elaborate sandcastle in history, just for percy to accidentally splash it when he was trying to surf a wave; so she decides that playtime is over. it’s time to figure out what exactly is going on between you and luke.

luke is in the cabin doing gods know what. you're on the deck painting your nails, so annabeth decides to start gathering information from you, first. 

“hey." you finish painting your pinky a dark purple, and set the bottle down next to you. "having fun?”

annabeth nods once and sits next to you. she asks if you could paint her nails, and you pull out a bottle of silver polish you said you thought she might like. 

as you work, careful with each stroke of polish, annabeth surveys the tattoos on your skin. you’re wearing a bikini top, so there are some that she’s seeing for the first time. there's one of a knife on your sternum, and annabeth distinctly remembers seeing a similar one peeking from underneath the collar of luke’s shirt. she wonders when you got it, if you had to travel to a tattoo parlour in the city, how many other adventures you'd gone on without having to consult the oracle beforehand. 

maybe that’s a good place to start. 

“have you ever thought about leaving camp? like, long term?" 

"sometimes," you admit. "it would be nice to have some normal early-twenties experiences."

"would you go to school?"

you smile as you keep painting annabeth’s nails. “maybe. i might have seen legally blonde too many times, but i think about law school sometimes.” 

“what about luke?”

your smile fades at the question. “i...i don’t know." your once precise nail-painting falters, and you mumble a curse when a drop of silver lands on annabeth's skin. you swipe it away before continuing. "luke's one of those people i can't really see away from camp half-blood for too long; pretty sure it would burn down without him. there's a reason he feels responsible for everyone there...in a way i respect, obviously, but, it's not the same for me. nobody needs me."

"luke needs you."

you sigh, and annabeth wonders if you even realize how you shake your head slightly. she thinks you're about to disagree with her, but instead you ask: 

“what's this about, annie? are you thinking about your dad’s offer?”

and annabeth’s completely thrown off her line of inquiry. 

“how did you —”

“perce told me that you’ve been talking about staying with him for the year,” you explain. you gesture at annabeth to give you her other hand, and she complies. the silver polish on the hand you just finished glitters in the sun. 

“well, nothing’s confirmed.”

you look up at annabeth, one eyebrow raised. “it's okay, you know — if you just wanna….be a kid for a bit.”

annabeth is silent, prompting you to ask another question.

"what's holding you back?"

“well….at first, i thought it would be a definite no,” annabeth admits. “obviously, it didn’t work out last time. i don’t know if i want to risk it again — if i can trust him, you know? how do i know he actually cares —  that he’ll be there for me when i need him?”

“you don’t.” you pause for a second. “but i’m gonna tell you a story that i think might help.”

you're done painting her nails, so you put everything away. you sit cross-legged next to annabeth, looking out at the ocean.

“my dad never wanted me to go to camp. he wanted to raise me in the city, just like he’d grown up. he’d take me to rock concerts all the time. i was so young, he’d make me wear earmuffs and carry me on his shoulders so that i could still see the band.” you smile softly at the memory. “and then….my dad got sick, he couldn’t take care of me, and monsters started to show up, so he brought me to camp for safe keeping." 

"you've told me all this," annabeth remarks. 

you start fiddling with your camp necklace. annabeth isn't used to seeing you so unsure, so nervous; it throws her off even more. 

"what i haven't told you is that even when my dad got better, he….he didn’t give me a choice of where to stay.”

"oh," is all annabeth can say. 

“yeah, oh," you scoff, but there’s not really any malice behind it. you seem…sad. defeated, almost. your fingers move to play with the hem of your shorts, which causes the fresh nail polish to smudge. you don’t seem too concerned about that at the moment, though. "i told everyone that i chose to stay. the truth is that i stayed because my dad didn't want me anymore. he said that the universe gave him a second chance, so he wanted to live his life without having to worry about monster attacks or taking care of his teenage daughter."

annabeth wonders if luke knows the truth about this; though, considering how difficult it seems for you to admit, she doubts it. 

before, annabeth had a theory that you decided to stay at camp because of luke.

luke was away when you got the news that your dad was in remission. annabeth remembers how happy you were, how excited you were to be back in the city and living with your dad again. you started packing right away.

when luke came back from his failed quest, you had just gone into the city the day before, having promised to visit in the summer and stay in touch. someone – chris maybe, or beckendorf — must have called you, told you what happened, because you came back to camp right away, your bag still fully packed. you never left again. 

"that sucks."

“yeah.” you let out a hollow, breathy laugh. “and, i was angry at first. of course i was. but now, i don’t know. i think that maybe my dad does care about me. like, he still sends me mixtapes with old punk rock songs he thinks i’d like. he actually calls me on my birthday, and we have a 3 minute conversation about nothing important." 

"right…" annabeth furrows her brows. this conversation had definitely not gone as planned. "no offense, but what's —"

"i'm getting to the point," you tell her, bumping your shoulder against hers.  "i realized that sometimes people can only love us in a way that works for them — and it sucks. it really, really sucks. but then sometimes…. sometimes people do actually try. and, i don’t know, it seems like maybe your dad is willing to try.”

“so you think i should take him up on his offer.”

the sun starts to set. you get up, brush sand off your legs. 

“i think it's time for a swim. i also think that you’re smart enough to know what’s best for you, and who deserves a second chance. just know that whatever you decide — we’ll be there for you.”

you leave without another word, but with the return of your usual confident smile, off to the shore to take advantage of the last bits of daylight. 

"she's right, annabeth." luke appears a few seconds later, takes the spot next to annabeth you had just occupied.

annabeth hums.

"how much of that did you hear?" 

luke doesn't answer. he just stares at your form, disappearing in the distance and diving under the waves.

—

iv.

you clear your throat and luke turns around to see you freshly showered. you’re wearing a pair of shorts and one of the oversized band tees the two of you constantly exchange. you've lost track of whose is whose at this point.

luke resists the urge to shamelessly check out your legs, and turns his back towards you once again. that bikini top you were wearing earlier was bad enough. thankfully, the heat from the stove was enough to cover up his blushing cheeks at the sight of your exposed skin. 

“i thought we were ordering pizza,” you say, moving to peer over his shoulder, chin hovering just above. luke had the sense that you were avoiding physical contact, and as much as it drives him crazy, he knows that he’s the one who’d dug his own grave. pushing you away and whatnot. 

“didn’t know that you knew how to cook.”

“not much,” luke shrugs. he keeps stirring the vegetables — broccoli and carrots and baby corn. he’ll add the red peppers once the broccoli turns green so that they don’t become too soft. he’s pretty sure that’s how he remembers it going.

“i could have helped you.” you reach over and hand him the peppers right on time. you shift to lean your back against the counter next to the stove, arms crossed over your chest and eyes following luke. 

luke throws in the chicken he cooked earlier, and then the sauce he had also mixed. he waits a few seconds, lets the sound of everything sizzling fill the space between you. 

“it’s an easy recipe.” luke turns off the stove to punctuate his point. 

and it had to be. something quick he’d make with his mom after she had one of her episodes, before waking up and realizing that she had a son to feed. the sounds, the colors, the smells — it all, overwhelmingly, reminds him of a childhood he once had. one that was never as simple as the food he just made.

none of the bitterness in his throat is caused by his mom, of course. just his father who calls himself a god, and left them both alone to fend for themselves. 

you start getting out plates from the cupboards as you ask: “where are the kids?”

luke checks the pot on the stove to see if the rice is cooked. “told them to go rent something from the video store.” 

“they went alone?”

“they’ve literally been to hell and back,” he replies and sits down at the table. “i think they can handle a blockbuster.”

“i don’t care if they get attacked by monsters,” you state, setting down the last plate in front of him. “i know they can handle themselves. they just better choose a good movie.” 

luke doesn’t mean to snort, but he can’t help but remember all the arguments you’d gotten in with chris over your tastes in movies. 

 “don’t laugh, castellan. i’ve saved movie night on more than one occasion and i’ve never gotten so much as a thank you.” you roll your eyes, but luke notices the ghost of a smile.

it fades just as quickly as it appeared, and luke already misses the small moment of levity that’s passed. 

“what’s been going on with you, tiger?”

you hold his gaze, and luke knows that you’re hoping for a real answer, for the truth he can’t give you. 

“nothing,” he answers instinctively. 

“don’t give me that,” you sigh and turn away from him, returning to your position against the counter. 

“i said it’s nothing,” luke insists, a bit more assertively. “why can’t you just believe me?”

“because you’ve been distant, moody.” your tone is sharper now, too. “you’ve been avoiding me. you’ve barely been eating. the side of your bunk has been empty, which means you haven’t been sleeping, either. gods, i can’t even remember the last time you kissed me —”

“you’re really mad at me because we haven’t fucked?” 

it’s a low blow, and he delivers it as if he hadn’t missed seeing you underneath him. or on top, or beside. luke isn’t picky. 

“you’re impossible!” you groan, and cover your face with your hands. you take a deep breath  before returning to glare at luke. “do….do you not want to be together, anymore? because if that’s what’s happening, i’ll survive. we can go back to being friends.” you clench your jaw to make up for the tremble behind your question. always a tough face, even in the face of potential heartbreak.

of course, luke knows you’ll be fine without him. he’s the one who might have difficulty surviving when you part ways.

“that’s not —” luke sighs and runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “that’s not it.”

“then what is it?”

“noth—”

“i will send you to elysium if you tell me it’s nothing one more time, because i know it’s not!” you’re shouting now. “i might not know what it is, but i know you well enough to tell that something is bothering you. so i’m asking you, one more time, what is going on?”

the thing is, luke can’t tell you — about what he’s done, about who he’s aligned himself with. he can’t lie to you, either, at least not to save his life.

so, he’s basically stuck in whatever the greek mythology version of limbo is. 

for now, he’s saved by percy, annabeth, and grover, who walk in with a stack of DVDs and armfuls of movie snacks. 

dinner is fine, especially with the kids providing a good enough buffer. luke even catches you smiling and laughing along with them a few times. you approve of their choice in movies, starting with mulan. it’s one of luke’s favorites, too, but he can’t help but let his attention wander. 

the two of you have known each other for a long time. luke has felt your anger. he’s felt your frustration. you’ve been on opposing sides of explosive arguments, of brutal sparring matches. 

but, despite everything, luke’s never been hated by you. it’s unavoidable, given what he’s done and the path he’s on; it's just not something he's particularly eager to feel.

working for kronos….luke won't pretend he regrets it. something had to be done, to take back the poisonous world the gods created. 

he did it for you, even if you won't understand.

he'd do anything for you.

so, for now, he’s willing to endure the daggers you stare at him from the other side of the couch. 

—

v. 

in another life, you might have taken advantage of the queen bed and private room. both hard to come by at camp half-blood, if you’re not willing to risk zeus’ wrath for the latter.

gods, it feels like forever since you and luke snuck into cabin one because couldn’t keep your hands off each other, curses and lighting strikes be damned. 

you almost wish lightning would strike — at least then the bed would be warm. 

“i can feel you being mad at me,” luke whispers. 

“sorry, thought you’d already be gone by now,” you respond, sarcasm dripping through your words. “off to see whoever else you’d rather sleep with.”

“so, you are mad because we haven’t fucked in a while.”

a stupid slip of the tongue. you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and your entire body feels on fire for giving him any leverage on you. that was definitely not the warmth you were hoping for. 

“whatever,” you mumble, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, your back still towards luke. 

for the record, you’re mad because of whatever distance luke was forcing between you, or whatever wall he was putting up, for a reason you don’t understand. you’d always known luke well, but lately you haven’t been able to read him. 

and, sure. maybe you are…. frustrated. the two of you hadn’t been intimate in a while, yes, and your fingers are nothing compared to luke’s, but more than that: you just miss actually feeling him close to you. in any sense. 

you’re not sure how much time passes, and there’s nothing but silence. then, you hear his voice again, gentler than before, no cocky attitude laced through. 

“you never told me about your dad.”

ugh. of course, luke had overheard your conversation with annabeth earlier. damn those sly hermes’ genes.

you stay silent to give off the illusion that you’d fallen asleep, but luke doesn't fall for it. 

“we’ve shared a bunk for years, karma. i can tell when you’re not sleeping.” 

you pause for a few more seconds, but you know that luke is persistent.

“it didn’t matter,” is all you offer before he asks again.

“it did,” luke insists. “why didn’t you tell me?”

“it’s not like we tell each other everything,” you scoff. “like, why didn’t you tell me about that prophecy? and why won’t you tell me whatever’s going on with you now?”

“that’s….that’s different.” 

“not really. i bet that it’s all for the same reason.”

“which is?”

 you debate telling luke the truth. 

it was no surprise that you had a certain reputation around camp: cunning, hot-tempered, brash. you were fine being the angry girl whose mother wasn’t enough of a god to warrant a cabin, but enough of a threat to be wary of. you didn’t want to be the one who was also dropped by her father, unwanted and too much of a burden. so, you swallowed the reality of the situation; pretended that nothing broke your heart, and that nothing ever would.

“i didn’t want you to look at me differently,” you admit. 

another pause, this time from the other side of the bed. 

“if it makes you feel better, i was glad that you stayed.”

you can’t help it; you let out a sardonic laugh.

“that’s not much of a comfort, since you haven’t seemed very thrilled with me lately.”

“that’s not….” luke falters. “i just mean that i don't know who i’d be if you left.”

in spite of the situation, the ongoing tension between you, you find yourself smiling. 

“always so dramatic,” you tease.

deep down, you know you’re not much better.

luke was part of the reason you might have stayed at camp, anyways. he was the reason why you didn’t fight harder to get back to your old life, and you always did like a good fight.

it was scary though, that one person had so much power over you and didn’t even know it. you tried to convince yourself that you stayed because luke had needed you, after his quest and everything. but, once you’d known how it felt to have luke in your life, you didn’t want to go back to a time you didn’t. 

truthfully, it still scares you.

“i don’t like fighting with you,” you admit softly, swallowing a lump in your throat. “especially when i don’t even know why we’re fighting in the first place.”

you wonder if you’d just thought that instead of saying it out loud because luke doesn’t respond, until you hear the sheets behind you shuffle, and feel luke position himself behind you.

"i'm sorry that we're fighting. it's my fault."

he settles a tentative hand on your exposed hip, where your shirt had ridden up. luke starts to trace circles onto your skin with his thumb, the way he sometimes does when he's nervous or having a bad dream.

"i’ve just been so….in my head. i don't want you to worry about what's going on with me, okay?

"luke —"

"i have to sort it out on my own.”

"you don’t, though,” you insist. “if you just tell me what’s going on, instead of pushing me away.”

another pause. you can feel him breathing down your neck, and in turn you inhale the spicy citrus of his body wash. it’s all so excruciatingly familiar as you wait for him to say something, anything. 

eventually, luke sighs, deeply, and confesses:

"it's just….we've known each other for so long, but this — us? so much of it is new. i don't want to fuck it up." 

"well, congratulations," you quip. "you're one step closer to getting there."

you meant it as a joke, something to lighten the mood, but you feel luke stiffen at your words, his grip on your hip becoming almost painfully tight as if he's worried you'll slip away.

"i'm kidding, tiger." you weave your fingers through his to loosen his hold on you, and reassure him even more that you're not going anywhere, any time soon. "for better or for worse: you’re mine, and i'm yours. no matter how much either of us might fuck it up."

luke shuffles closer, and you melt into him even more. 

"do you really mean that?"

his voice is soft, surprisingly timid. you crane your neck back to look at him; luke stares at you, his gaze heavy enough to take your breath away. 

“of course.” 

you're so close, and you hadn't been in so long. luke's leg is somehow lodged in between your thighs, and you bite back a whimper as he brushes against you. you feel him behind you, already half-hard, and you rub your ass against him slightly, causing a groan to vibrate through his body. 

neither of you have to do much to crash your lips together.

you can sense how luke’s been unraveling, from the kiss alone. his lips are chapped, rough against yours and already bleeding from the pressure; his stubble scrapes against your cheek, and you’re dizzy with anticipation, imagining how it will leave a stinging sensation on other areas of your skin when luke has his way with you later. 

for now, you focus on your mouth on his: teeth clacking together, your tongue laving over the cut on luke’s bottom lip and tasting copper. luke brings a hand up to your jaw, pushing you into his mouth even more. 

it’s like the first time you kissed. all consuming. messy. urgent — like you've already run out of time. 

eventually, you have to pull yourself away from his grasp, your neck straining at the uncomfortable angle. luke takes the opportunity to suck bruises onto your neck while he presses his thigh harder against your cunt. he slips his other hand further underneath your shirt, cupping your breast and pinching your nipple between his fingers.  instinctively, you start rutting against him. 

“f-fuck,” you groan, relishing in the muscles of his naked thigh underneath you, defined and strong. 

luke chuckles, and you feel his breath warm against your skin. 

“you missed me that much, hm?” he taunts, encouraging you to go faster, harder. “you’re gonna cum before i even have a chance to undress you. doesn’t seem fair to me.”

“who —” your breath catches when luke’s hand settles around your throat, pulling you impossibly closer to him. you feel the outline of his abs against your lower back, and his length, hard and waiting. it’s difficult to finish your thought, but you try your best. “who says i only have to cum once?”

“that sounds like a challenge,” luke decides. “what’s our record — three? think we can beat that tonight?”

you laugh, already out of breath. “i think we can do it.”

“good girl.”

your thighs clench at the nickname, and it's one down, a few more to go. 

you maneuver luke so that he lays flat on the bed, your legs on either side of his hips. your hands fumble with the edge of his shirt, and he lets you remove it without any more hassle.

it's a little ironic, really, how much you and luke hate the gods — because looking at him underneath you, you're sure that something divine must have created him, and you have to thank them for it. sharp jaw, deep scar, flushed cheeks; curls slightly askew, and skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat; that cocky smile — you'd worship luke castellan over any of the olympians. 

secretly, of course, you pretty much already do.

"like what you see?" luke smirks up at you, hands firmly on your ass.

you roll your eyes to save face. "come on, tiger, like you're not seconds away from tearing through your boxers." 

luke clicks his tongue, locks his calf around yours to switch your positions. you grunt as your back hits the mattress, but you very much appreciate the force and weight of luke above you. he practically rips off your shirt, then starts to nip and suck down your body. he kisses the fabric still covering your cunt, and you can feel his chuckle vibrate through your body when he encounters the wetness there. 

"i'm not the one who already ruined their underwear," luke teases as he finishes undressing you. he pauses at the sight of you, bottom half completely exposed. you're about to tell him to hurry the fuck up, but then luke spits onto your already soaked cunt and says: 

“i need to clean you up, baby.” he gives you another cheeky grin, teeth glowing like the cheshire cat, before diving in.

luke is skilled at everything he does, so of course he's quick to unravel you once more, this time with a persistent combination of tongue and teeth, lapping at your cunt like it's his last meal. 

as soon as you're done riding out your high, you yank luke by the leather cord around his neck to collide your lips with his again. 

you reach down to return the favor, snake your hand underneath the fabric of his underwear, and you're deeply satisfied to find him already sticky with his release.

“you already finished,” you tease, stroking his v-line. "and ruined your underwear without me even touching you." 

in the dim light of the moon, you can barely make out luke blushing. he hides his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder. 

“guess we’re both desperate, huh.” luke’s teeth graze your skin, his curls tickling your neck. “i need to be inside you, now, so how about you get on your hands and knees for me? i’ll get the condom.”

sometimes, luke tries to be gentle — but not this time. 

this time, he fucks you, hard and fast and deep. 

you love it, even if you might not be able to walk properly tomorrow.

with so much power behind each thrust, and the overwhelming pleasure, your arms threaten to give out, but luke catches you before you fall. he wraps a hand around your neck, bringing you flush against his chest as he continues to plunge his length into you. 

"listen to me," luke growls. he snakes a hand down to rub harsh circles on your clit. "the one thing the gods did right is make this perfect, tight little pussy of yours. you were fucking made for me, weren't you?" 

all you can do is whimper, closing your eyes at his filthy, sinful words. 

you aren't used to luke being so possessive, and certainly not in these past few weeks. it's making your head spin in the best way. you can feel your orgasm build in the pit of your abdomen.

"were you made for me?" luke asks again. he squeezes your neck slightly, and you gasp at the pressure. "answer me, or i'll stop." 

you don’t think it’s likely he’ll stop; you’re sure he’s just as lost in the sound of your cunt squelching and the feeling of you sucking him in. but, he does slow down, only a little bit, and it's enough for you to start whining.

"y-yes, luke."

"are you mine?"

you don't answer fast enough. luke stills his hips completely and you almost burst into tears.

you moan, trying to move against him in vain. luke keeps a firm grip on you, making it hard to cause any sort of friction between your bodies.

"i'm yours," you promise.

luke plants a firm kiss behind your ear. “that’s my girl,” he whispers darkly.

satisfied, luke resumes his pace. he moves the hand around your neck to your chin, angling you accordingly so he can crash his lips onto yours. 

it doesn't take long to feel the tension in your abdomen snap, wetness gushing out of you. exhausted, you collapse onto the mattress. luke slips out of you.

the next few seconds consist of you trying to bring yourself back down to reality after such a high. 

luke turns you around just to face him as he hovers over you. he lodges his hand behind your ear and taps your cheek to get your attention. your eyes flutter open.

“did you just —” 

the dampness between your legs, and on the sheets underneath you, is enough evidence: you just squirted.

"i….” you gulp, feeling yourself flush. “i’ve never done that before."

luke stares at your glistening cunt. you wonder if you should be embarrassed, but then he locks eyes with you. you've never seen them so dark, pupils almost fully blown, just a sliver of brown showing through.

"you’re so fucking hot."

your heart flutters. 

“you’re not too bad yourself, tiger, or i wouldn’t be in this mess.” you wink at him, still trying to catch your breath. your eyes wander lower. you note luke in the current state he’s in; you realize that the scales are nowhere near balanced. “that’s three for me, and only one for you. let me taste you.” 

he doesn't need to be told twice. you get on your knees once more, this time facing him as he kneels in front of you. luke rips off the condom, something to deal with later, and you take him in your mouth, cheeks hollowed and tears brimming your eyes feeling him fuck your throat. when he finishes, you swallow him whole, savoring every drop. he pulls you up for a kiss; you can still taste yourself on him, and it mixes with his new release, a combination that is more than a little intoxicating. 

“fuck,” luke mumbles as he pulls away. he swipes his thumb over the corner of your mouth where some of his cum dribbled out. “i know that was intense, but would you be up for another round? "

"yeah," you reply without a second thought, reaching up to thread your fingers through his curls to ground yourself. 

maybe you should thank artemis for the full moon tonight, giving you just the right amount of silver light to illuminate the sculpted curves and edges of luke's body. his skin is also littered with bruises and bites of your design, chaotic and beautiful. luke looks like a mess, just as you're sure you do. 

you want more. you need more.

"we gotta go for four, remember? but...maybe we, uh…"

"....slow it down this time?" luke finishes your thought. 

you nod, grateful that you and luke are on the same page. he scrambles off the bed to get another condom.

"shit. i don't have another one.”

"check my bag, too," you tell him. luke complies, but comes up short once more.  

you’re sitting up against the headboard now, and luke returns to kneel in front of you. 

"i can use my fingers,” luke offers. “or eat you out again —"

“or we could just do without a condom this time?” you suggest. luke raises an eyebrow at you, so you think through the possibilities out loud. "we both got tested before our first time together and haven’t been with anyone since.” you find yourself pausing for confirmation on that, and luke nods once. “i’m on birth control. obviously there’s still a risk that something happens, but maybe just this one time? you can just pull out whenever you’re ready….if you're okay with that."

luke waits, almost like he thinks you might change your mind, before finally answering:

“yeah, i’m okay with it if you are. i’ve always wanted to fuck you raw. i just didn’t think you’d be into it — and didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

you have to kiss him then. because how is it that the boy who just gave you three jaw clenching, toe curling, heart pounding orgasms be so sweet and considerate?

before you know it, you’re flat on your back, sheets slightly scratchy with stray sand. you don't care much because luke hovers above you; he presses his forehead to yours, curls falling in front of his face. 

"just so you know," luke starts, just as you feel him enter you once more. "i must have been made for you, too. i'm just as much yours as you are mine."

you smirk, bite your lip to keep from moaning so that you can keep up the arrogance, just a bit longer. 

"always so dramatic," you mock, as if your cunt isn’t squeezing around him at his sweet nothings. 

luke grins at you sheepishly, his cheeks flushed. 

"guess that means the gods did two things right," you joke, exhaling when you feel luke brush against that gummy spot deep within you. "maybe we've taken them for granted. maybe we should - " he hits that spot again, and your breath hitches. you dig your nails into his shoulders as he rocks back and forth. “maybe we should thank them.”

luke clicks his tongue, grips your hip firmly. "not a chance, sweetheart. the gods’ll get what they deserve."

you don’t care enough to ask luke what he means. you care more about him going faster. you’re about to tell him to do so, and to throw your legs over his shoulders, but he does it himself before you get the chance. you feel him slipping deeper within you, the force and passion behind each movement, his body molding to every curve and crevice of yours. 

made for each other.

you’re so sensitive that your orgasm approaches quickly. as he helps you ride it out, his thrusts get sloppier, and you know he’s almost reached his peak, too. 

“fuck,” he grunts. “i’m close.” luke starts to pull out, but then you lock your ankles behind his neck. 

“don’t,” you command. 

“a-are you sure?” he looks at you, wide-eyed.

“i just want to feel you this once.”

he nods and brings you in for one more bruising kiss. he finishes inside you, warm and wet. 

luke leaves once he catches his breath, and comes back with a damp towel to clean you up. he knows your body, recognizes how sensitive you are, and presses kisses on the inside of your thighs, where the same lips had made bruises before. 

even completely fucked out, your mind starts to unpack everything that’s wrong in your life. like how luke has always been a little too good at pretending, with everyone else at least, and something serious must be going on if he's trying to fool you, too.  

this luke with you now, the one who gently wipes his cum from between your legs after fucking you so relentlessly, is your luke. it feels like your luke is slipping right through your fingers, and you’re wracking your brain trying to figure out how this can stop before losing him completely.

wait….did luke say something about getting revenge on the gods? your mind is still a bit cloudy, but you could’ve sworn —

 “are you okay?” 

his question puts pause on your spiraling. he’s done cleaning you up, throws the towel on the floor and settles back on the bed, next to you. you’re close enough for the softest whisper, your limbs intertwined beneath tangled sheets.

you watch luke carefully as he waits for an answer and surveys your body, tracing his fingers over the marks he'd left underneath your jaw, across your shoulders, over your collarbones and down your stomach. 

"i didn't hurt you, did i?"

“i’m okay,” you assure him. luke’s hand stops to gently rest on your cheek. your other worries are pushed to the side for the time being: for now, it's just you and luke. “do you think we could pick up a plan b pill tomorrow though, just in case? i love you, but i’m not ready to have your babies.”

luke widens his eyes like a minotaur in headlights. he drops his hand.

 “you’ve never said that before.”

“that i want to have your babies?” you jest, slightly amused at how panicked luke seems.

luke blushes and clears his throat. “well, that too. i meant the whole ‘i love you’ thing, though.” 

your amusement evaporates. you swear your heart stops beating momentarily.

“oh, shit.…” 

you’re not quite sure what to say; you’ve felt this way for a while, truthfully. 

of course you love luke. you can't remember exactly when you realized it, but you just….know.

because if what you felt for luke wasn’t love, then you were foolish to have secretly bought into what silena beauregard had been on about for years, and aphrodite herself might just be out of a job. 

“i know we’re kind of in a weird place, but, yeah, i mean it. you don’t have to say it back —”

luke leans forward to kiss you. gentler this time, but just as firm. “i love you."

"you do?" your heart resumes its beating. 

"of course i do. i have ever since my first morning at camp.”

“yeah right,” you chuckle in disbelief, feeling your cheeks heat up. “it’s not a competition, you know, over who loved who first.”

“karma, i’m serious,” he insists. “someone taught me to burn offerings, and with everything that happened with thalia, i obviously wasn't in the worshiping mood, but then you leaned over and whispered —"

"they like the smell of begging." 

luke grins at you, and you reach up to brush your thumb against the dimple in his cheek. 

"exactly. somehow, that was what i needed to hear. it was nice to know that i wasn't the only one who didn’t want to just accept things the way they were….” he loses his train of thought. luke grabs your hand in his. “i wish i had told you earlier. after all this, i don’t want to lose you.”

“you won’t —”

“whatever happens,” luke continues, somewhat ominously. “i love you, y/n.”

you hadn't heard luke use your real name in a while. you fall asleep, heart full with the memory of him weaving it together with those three magic words. 

the next morning, you wake up — you actually sleep in, for the first time in years — and decide that if you could stay here forever, you would. 

the morning sun stings your eyes through the sheer curtains. the sticky heat of summer sits heavy in the room, and stray grains of sand tickle your skin underneath the sheets. waves wash gently on the shore outside, and an ocean breeze mixes with the smell of burnt cinnamon. you can hear annabeth, grover, and percy crashing dishes and bickering and causing chaos in the kitchen as, you imagine, they scramble to surprise you with breakfast. 

luke is next to you, on his stomach. his curls are a mess, covering most of his face. 

evidence from last night: scratches from your nails prominent on his back, his neck decorated with purple bruises in the shape of your lips. you shift slightly and feel a dull ache between your legs, so you'd call it even.

outside, something clatters on the floor, and you hear percy swear.

luke's eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, and he starts to move. "we should get up before they burn down the place." 

you press your hand to luke's shoulder blade, barely, but in his half-asleep state, it's enough to keep him in bed. luke moves to his side, facing you. you bring your hand up to brush curls away from luke's eyes, even if they're still closed.

"they've literally been to hell and back," you recall his sarcastic words from last night. "i think they can handle pancakes." 

the corners of luke's mouth curl upwards. 

"you're such a smart ass," he mumbles.

you lean forward, plant a kiss underneath luke's chin. his stubble scratches against your lips. 

"don't pretend you don't love it, tiger."

luke breathes steadily. you think he might've fallen asleep once more until he presses his lips to your forehead, pulls you towards him, and quips:

"i love you."

your heart quickens as you echo his words. something churns in your stomach, too.

because this peace isn't something that feels permanent.

you're the children of gods, and there's always a catch. some inevitable plot twist where lovers end up separated, where heroes end up dead or cursed. 

it's nauseating — dangerous, even — that you want a happy ending, a desire buried in you deeply like a knife to the gut. it's cruel that the fates keep twisting, taunting you with what can never be.

no monsters; no gods or titans; no prophecies.

just this.

#the way this became a whole chapter....i've got wayyy too much to say i guess #i really wanted to incorporate the trio into this series a bit more and how others see luke + karma's relationship #also i forget who said it but smut as a character study....yeah <3 #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x nemesis!reader #luke castellan x you #pjo fanfic #pjo #luke castellan fanfic #saf writes

[spicy-apple-pie]

Fuck it, Harry du Bois and co headcanons

- Harry naturally has rosacea but his alcoholism made it worse.

- when he was a PE teacher he would occasionally come wearing the worst clothes for physical activity. Full disco bell bottoms, his shirt unbuttoned to his belly button, and two inch heels.

- he coached girls rugby and la crosse and was so protective of his team. He would call them his girls in passing and if you didn’t know him, you would be concerned.

- Harry got Kim a disco Elysium equivalent to Lego model of a racing MC. Kim was like “👀 why did you get me this?” And Harry was just like “because you like cars :)”. And Kim externally was really cool and chill about it, but internally he was freaking out because he never actually got a meaningful toy from anyone as a kid. (He got gifts donated to a charity. Which included things like glue sticks and half used pencil crayons). He invited Harry over to help build it with him.

- when Kim was a teen, going through his “I’m so angry at everyone and everything around me.” He got semi adopted by a drag family. They drifted apart when he joined the RCM because most of them were old enough to remember the raids that would happen at gay bars. Kim was adamant that he was joining to actually make a difference in the community and he would be one of the good ones. He still visits occasionally, when he’s not bone tired from working.

- Kim and Judit instantly became allies to each other. Being two of the only visible minorities in the precinct, they instinctively gravitated towards each other. They’re not best friends, but fairly close. They back each other up if they notice the other is being talked over or disrespected.

- Harry has a ttrpg campaign with Kim, Cuno, and sometimes Jean. Kim has always wanted to play this long form of board game but has never had any close friends to play with (and yes, his close friends here are literally two of his coworkers and a 10 year old but whatever). Jean acts like he doesn’t like it, he’s really bad at role playing and understanding the rules. But he genuinely misses Harry sometimes and likes to know that he’s okay. Cuno on the other hand, LIVES for the game. He loves the storytelling, worldbuilding, and roleplaying. Harry’s helped him with a few one shots that he played with his school friends (they didn’t like it, called him lame. But him and his pig made it, so what do they know.) He’s working on writing their next campaign and he’s so excited about it and won’t like Harry know what it is.

- Harry adopted a stray cat outside his apartment and didn’t know that she was pregnant until she gave birth in his closet. There was 4 in total, 1 didn’t make it, Trant took one, and Harry couldn’t find homes for the two left so he kept them and mama. Even though mama loves Harry, her favourite person is Kim. Whenever Kim comes over, Harry calls for her “It’s Kim!!” He calls and she shoots up and cries at his feet. Kim won’t admit it, but he finds her adorable and loves her.

Uh, yeah, I don’t think I’ll make it a habit of posting DE stuff but I’m bored lol.

#disco elysium #DE #harry du bois #harrier du bois #hdb #kim kitsuragi #Cuno #cuno de ruyter #jean vicquemare #judit minot #trant heidelstam #Headcanons #cutie pies

[scoutpologist]

[ID: A screenshot from Fayde of Disco Elysium dialogue, reading:

You - "Have you ever wanted to change your name, Kim?"

Kim Kitsuragi - "Change? No, not exactly. But I think all of us at some point imagine what our lives might have been had we been something else."

Kim Kitsuragi - "And then we feel trapped by the names we've been given, as symbols of the intentions and expectations of others..." He pulls a long, pensive drag.

Kim Kitsuragi - "Even if I were to change my name now, upon hearing any syllable that sounds like *kim* in the street, I'd turn to see who was calling me." End ID.]

i'm going to be thinking about this for the rest of my life i think

#op #disco elysium #kim kitsuragi #that last line is one of my favorite DE quotes i'm going to burst into tears #for very different reasons than why kim says it but this is something that could have come directly from my own thoughts

[egginround]

Winter Sun

Achilles and Patroclus go on a long-awaited day out.

Achilles x Patroclus, wordcount: 3.3k, CW: None - Written as a gift for @vityamins as part of @thehadeslounge's 2023 Holiday Gift Exchange!

If Patroclus had known Achilles would suggest such outlandish ideas, he would’ve reconsidered following him in such devotion. Though, of course, it is both a blessing and a curse that he can be so utterly persuasive.

Together, they travelled through a dim corridor of the Temple of Styx, far too narrow and winding for any sane shade to wander across. A hand in his lover’s hand, Patroclus let himself get dragged along by Achilles. The blonde warrior himself somehow seemed beside himself in excitement. It was quite a change from his usual wise and mature demeanour.

For Patroclus at least, It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to trusting Achilles. There were many times in their mortal lives where Achilles’ judgement kept them safe from danger, his skill kept him in awe, and his love kept a lightness in Patroclus’ heart, a flutter reserved for only him, that has attached itself irreversibly to his sorry soul. It’s just that, after countless years together, it was unlike his beloved to abandon such care.

Finally, they reached their destination. Dodging the fragile stalactites that grazed his hair, Patroclus took in the damp, dark surroundings. Usually such close quarters with his love wouldn’t be remiss - encouraged even - but the secrecy made a faint furrow appear on his brow.

A rickety old door stood before them. Perhaps an unfinished hallway during the construction of the Temple of Styx, Patroclus mused before his companion brought him out of his thoughts. He huddled in closer before spying Achilles reaching into a leather pouch.

His partner unfurled his fist and within it lay two silver rings. Even in the dark, Patroclus could see their almost ephemeral form, as if they could phase out of existence at any one time. He peered at them, watching the way his beloved thumbed the enchantment etched onto their inner face.

“Hades forgive me for not turning these in as soon as I saw them,” Achilles breathed out. There is no tremble in voice, no doubt that clouds his words, but Patroclus knew him inside out. He knew that he would not risk his master’s anger without due cause.

“My love, do I spy a hint of rebellion?” With a twinkle in his dark eyes, Patroclus rested his hand on the small of his love’s back, encouraging him to go on. “It is unlike you to be this secretive.”

He smiled at the blond man, but a tinge of unease pulled it wider than usual. Intimate years together and unbearable ones apart, their bond was strong and transcended even mortal life. Still, a quiet Achilles was not one he was used to - especially when together (and when his lips were not otherwise occupied). Gently, he nudged him to continue. For all his efforts, Achilles just bumped his forehead against his.

“These two rings from a shade sentenced to Asphodel. One that used to be at the height of fame in Elysium before they were punished for contraband,” Achilles said, rolling them deftly between his fingers. The sleek silver might have seemed at odds with the warrior’s calloused hands, but when it were those same hands had held Patroclus so gently, had soothed the worry from his skin countless times - it only felt right. “Thanatos held onto these prior to me.”

“Ah, the spirit of death?”

“The very same,” Achilles said, fondness colouring his voice. “It was actually by his grace that I came by these. ‘A favour’, he said to me. I think he may have been satisfied to finally see the lad happy, and somehow thought that I was the one to help.”

The gleam in his eyes spoke of memories of fonder times and younger love that squeezed Patroclus’ heart.

“If he is feeling the way that I suspect, then he can only be half as blessed as me.”

“Hush, love.” A silly smile crept onto Achilles face as Patroclus fiddled with the pale hair that peeked out his hair band.

“These relics are powerful. They -”, Achilles cleared his throat. “They could bring us to the surface for but a day.”

Patroclus stilled.

Fear is for the weak, Patroclus knew this. But, a well-advised avoidance to further danger could always be appreciated. A shade stepping out to mortal soil would have been banned thrice over if Hades knew of it, and with the short time that had passed since their reunion, Patroclus could think of nothing worse than to be ripped from Achilles’ arms again.

Ever attendant, Achilles noticed the shock in his beloved’s eyes.

“I know.” He soothed his partner’s panic with a touch, fingers shaking slightly as he laced their hands together. “But please, let me do this for you. Just this once.”

The tension in Patroclus’ throat persisted, but ultimately it was hard for him to resist. Not when the red brushing over his lover’s cheeks seemed to rival the blood of titans themselves. Not for the man he loved.

Patroclus in turn tugged Achilles’ fingers in, curling them further into his palm. The hitched breath his beloved took could have been stolen from his own lungs. Patroclus thinks he’d gladly give him every last one. He gave him an affectionate look before the idea of walking together in the sun sent his heart fluttering.

“Then, my Achilles, let’s go.”

Beaming, Achilles slipped the ring onto the myrmidon’s middle finger and swiftly donned his own. The metal hissed and stretched as it became accustomed to its new home, with its flickering form calming down into a regular thin ring. A day’s use only - it was possible that they were never meant to be enchanted for long. Patroclus flexed his fingers as he examined the curious thing. Satisfied, he looks up to Achilles for the next steps. The smile he sees on his face makes him think the sun is here already.

The bright light dazzled.

Achilles threw up a hand over his eyes as he side-stepped out of the hidden exit of the Underworld into the snowy landscape. A chill that had nothing to do with the weather dripped down his spine as the fear of Hades’ wrath tinged his mind. His other hand coaxed Patroclus along, hearing a slight chuckle behind him, and he suddenly found it quite hard to care. At least, not for now.

It was definitely a stark difference to the warm darkness they were both accustomed to. The pop and sizzles of lava far away, the slick gushing of blood from the River Styx long gone. The cold of the mortal realm was so biting compared to the fires of the Underworld. As he pressed on, bitterly regretting a lack of proper clothing, Achilles could not help but feel the heat from Patroclus’ hand in his. Maybe he would not feel so cold after all.

Snow crunching under his feet, he led them onwards. He was sure that Patroclus was feeling the sting of the cold as much as he did. In his haste to sneak the two of them out, Achilles had forgotten to warn Patroclus of the icy weather. He turned to apologise, but the wonder on his beloved’s face had the words catching in his throat.

Of course, how could Achilles forget? As a servant of Hades, he had known of the surface world and kept up with their changes from the trickles of gossip that flowed through the House. A resident of Elysium would not.

“Pat, I must apologise. I should have prepared you better-”

“My love,” Patroclus whispered, the reverence in his tone bringing Achilles to a stop. “Was the world always so bright?”

A strange melancholy twists itself in Achilles’ chest.

In their mortal life, their work as soldiers never lent itself well to seeing the beauty of the natural world. He cast his eyes over the snowy mountain caps glittering in the distance, the crisp ice gleaming off the branches flanking their path. He didn’t even know what to say. Instead, he chose to rest his palm on his dearest’s shoulder. Patroclus wrapped his fingers around it absent-mindedly in return as he continued to take in a shocking new world.

“I loved our mortal lives together, but I was callous,” Achilles began. “I made mistakes that cost us our happiness, our future.”

The words welled up in Achilles’ throat, but he pressed on, gasping. “I think that I wanted to relive a moment of that, but without the pointless haste that gripped me before.”

Patroclus knows all too well the regret that wound itself around his love.

“I thought of this the whole while,” Achilles dryly chuckled, laying against his shoulder. “Of what I would do had I another day with you in the mortal realm.”

Raising his other hand to stop before Achilles could continue, Patroclus held Achilles’ hand tighter, feeling the cool metal of the ring clink between the two of them.

“Do not torment yourself, my love. I could think of no realm I would ever want to be in without you - mortal or otherwise.” Softening, Patroclus stroked the hand in his with his thumb. “I mean it. I would trade eternal paradise, a thousand more years walking in the sun, if it meant I could spend even a day more with you.”

The shy grin that he felt pressed into his skin makes one of his own creep onto his face. The two of them swayed there, hands slipping off Patroclus shoulder to stay clasped between their chests, before Achilles jolted.

“How could I forget? We still have to press on, Pat, there’s so much we must not miss!”

Snorting, Patroclus resigned again to Achilles’ lead, fingers tangled a tad tighter in his hold.

The winter sun was high in the sky when the two of them reached their destination. Standing on a hilltop, Patroclus looked down at a village below. It was not what he remembered. The houses looked the same, yet different - a change in the style of the walls, an adjustment in the slope of the roofs. It’s a weird feeling in the back of his head, he thought, to see the world move on without him. Thankfully though, the afterlife had eroded his ego, his shameless pride, that plagued him in mortal life. There was a comfort in seeing the people live their lives without the fear of war like he did before. It was peace like this that marked humanity, he thought again, not senseless violence or pointless conquest.

The breeze brushed some of Achilles’ hair onto him as they stood together, taking in the sight. Patroclus began to ask where his love was so excited to take him but he spied the same introspection in his eyes. Something in him softened at the look. Instead, Patroclus elected to leave a small kiss on his companion’s forehead, bringing him out his thoughts gently. It seemed that after so long, the need for words had dissolved between them. Achilles finally looks to him too, and he knows they think the same.

“It makes the wars we waged seem so pointless,” Achilles said in a quiet hush, as if the breeze might carry the words away.

“It does,” he replied. “But our time has passed. The fates can be so cruel, and yet these people continue to live on.”

“They do, don’t they?”

“Yes, my love,” Patroclus brought Achilles into an embrace. “And so must we. Elysium gives too many heroes the same glory and fame they chased in life, but I found myself no longer wanting that. I wanted to see the future, with you.”

Achilles hummed. “Shall we see for ourselves what that future might be?”

A tiny sigh of relief escaped Patroclus at the lift of his partner’s mood. They both had their demons to bear, but it was always much easier when they were together. Smiling, Patroclus let Achilles lead him on once more.

The two of them walked round to the borders of the village. After their solemn moment atop the hill, the tension in Patroclus’ chest had now eased. A silly, almost giddy, grin stretched over his face. One he had neither the control or the will to push down. It had been so long since the two of them had snuck around, just as they did in youth.

Before them stretched a long cobblestone path. Tufts of grass sprouted between the dusting of snow that adorned the grey stones, worn down from years of use. It looked like a busy day to visit. The din of the village centre could be heard even from the outskirts where the two of them stood as clusters of people filled the streets.

Achilles and Patroclus must have stood out like a sore thumb.

Still - one does not become a living legend just by sitting on the sidelines. As such, Achilles charged right into the crowds with his lover in tow. All kinds of people bustled past. People of various styles, tall heights and short, and even several families tugging along petulant children, lined the streets of the village. It seemed there was a festival in town, as there was no way a village so small could sustain the traffic that poured through the stone streets. The people haggled and traded, sang and danced. They ate, laughed and were merry. The same fondness for humanity that Achilles felt on the hilltop stirred in his chest. What a wonderful gift - to be human.

Patroclus was caught in similar musings when the shrill ringing of a child’s voice piped up closeby.

“Sirs! Sirs!” the voice squeaked.

Patroclus furrowed his brows, clearly confused and perhaps a bit dismayed at the interruption of his trip with his dearest. Achilles himself, however, seemed more than amused.

“I believe a little lad is asking for us,” he whispered underneath his breath. The faint smile on his partner’s face has Patroclus relenting yet again. It seemed Achilles could never escape his soft spot for the young.

Again, the voice rang out - “Sirs! The tall sirs in the funny clothes!”

Patroclus’ eyebrow twitched. Whatever attention the child wanted, he certainly had it now. Patroclus pushed through the crowd to find the source of this clearly fashion-forward child, and found him by a stand at the corner of the street.

The stand itself was not a great source of interest. The chipped wood signalled years of reuse, and the faded cloth lining it must have been passed down for generations. What was most interesting about the counter were the piles of golden pastries, freshly-baked bread and iced cakes, almost sparkling in the winter light, that adorned the space. A rumble resonated in Patroclus’ stomach - one he wasn’t sure shades could even do. Achilles thought it was hilarious, before a withering look had him stifling his grin.

The child in question had escaped to the folds of what seemed to be his grandmother’s skirt. The woman herself was tending to the stall and seemed quite busy appeasing the customers eyeing her produce. A shuffle of fabric, and a quick swipe of a chubby hand is all Patroclus spied before the child reappeared again.

“Hello lad,” Achilles began, evidently finding the situation all too amusing. “What could you be calling us for?”

“Your funny clothes look too cold!” the child shouts. This seemed to grab the attention of his guardian, who was wide-eyed in shock and all too ready to apologise for her grandson’s behaviour.

“Aleta!” she reprimanded. “What did we say about bothering nice gentlemen?!”

“They look too cold and skinny, g’ma! You said we should feed the cold skinny ones!” The child waved a golden-brown bun in front of their faces, still steaming in the winter chill.

The woman simply looked aghast.

Achilles chuckled. “Your boy has done nothing of the sort, not at all. If anything, he has done us a favour by bringing us to such a lovely array.”

“Oh,” the old lady breathed a sigh of relief. “You are simply too sweet. These old bones may creek, but I’ll be damned if they don’t whip up something good!”

Huffing, Patroclus ended up finding it hard to stay annoyed at the child. The ex-warrior stood by his love, allowing him to chat with the baker who was charmed at his admiration. It wasn’t long before she shooed the two of them away with a warm smile, thrusting a pair of fresh bread rolls into their arms. Only mildly miffed at Achilles flirting his way into free food (to which he denied), Patroclus found he could not deny his cravings any longer. He thanked the woman and her grandson wholeheartedly, before walking on and tearing into the roll. He savoured the sweet milky filling that spilled forth. It had been so long since he could appreciate the warmth of baked goods on a cold day, and share the delight with his beloved.

The two of them continued to amble down the streets. Their stomachs were pleasantly full, bringing an ease to their pace. The winter sun no longer seemed so harsh when Patroclus could enjoy himself with Achilles. There was a lightheartedness to him that he wished he saw more in his partner. Too often had guilt and penance chained themselves tight to his lover, and Patroclus was more than glad to see Achilles free of his shackles - if only for a day.

“Achilles, this might have been your best idea yet,” he hummed as the two of them walked side by side. The crowds of people seemed to have died down by then, with most stalls packing up for the day.

“Even better than when I tried to outlaw onions in our barracks, hm?”

“Well … that is hard to beat,” Patroclus said with a sly smile. “But no, I really cannot thank you enough. I do not know how long it has been since we have walked these lands, but I know that whenever I dreamt of it, it was always by your side.”

“You are such a sap sometime, Pat,” Achilles responds, eyes softening in the way reserved for only him, before admitting, “I cannot tell you how happy that makes me.”

A lifetime together and an afterlife more, yet still Patroclus had to look away from his companion, lest the adoration he would see in his eyes cause a falter in his heartbeat, and a stumble in his step.

The sun had dipped low in the sky before the pair had the good sense to return to the Underworld. Thankfully, Achilles and Patroclus were able to slip back into the Underworld without a hitch. The most reaction they received was from a raised eyebrow from Hypnos - who, if he knew what was good for him, would not dare mention Achilles’ absence if he didn’t want his trysts with a certain ferryman to be made public. It seemed that the House of Hades was incredibly busy yet again, and for once, Achilles was grateful for it.

The journey back to Elysium did not take long. The warmth of the day had nestled itself deeply into Achilles’ heart, and it made their travels seem far too short. Unfortunately however, it soon became time for them to depart.

“My love, I’d wager that this day was worth the years I spent without you,” Patroclus said with a soft smile. “I’d wager again that it will stay with me for years to come.”

A giddy laugh bubbled out of Achilles in response. He held his dear Patroclus’ cheek in his hand, hoping that his touch could convey all that his heart finds so hard to say. The small peck he received on his palm let him know he understood this and more. Achilles could not help but draw him in, lips teasing the edge of Patroclus’ mouth, as he sealed the promise of eternal love with a kiss.

Between their clapsed hands, the silver of their rings glinted in the light.

#patrochilles #hades game #achilles and patroclus #this is SO MUCH MORE SAPPY than the shit i usually do i feel a bit weird haha #LoungeGiftExchange #eggin writes

[dujour13]

OC Kiss Week - day 4

For my friend @cassynite 💜 Ophenia's books line the shelves of my mind palace

Ophenia has to brace her notepad with her elbows because the wind up here keeps trying to snatch it away and scatter its treasures to the Sellen far below.

What a romantic image, she realizes: lost love notes washed out to sea, each a fragment of a great tale of passion someone far away will glimpse, shorn of its context. A gift like a pretty piece of sea glass, the shards of shattered lives littering the sands of—

But she’s losing the thread of the story.

“…and I found myself hanging by my fingertips from the cliff, Ishiar raging against the jagged rocks far below, and all I could think about was how I'd dragged my friends to the Abyss and failed everyone who’d put their trust in me, and this would be a most fitting end and no more than I deserved, and I squeezed my streaming eyes shut and felt my fingers slip - when suddenly a horned shadow loomed over the cliffside! Then my hand was seized and the next thing I knew I was in his arms..."

She glances up from her notepad and her lips quirk. “Really.”

“Pretty much, yeah.” He uses his lilac shirt to wipe down the mouth of the wine bottle and passes it to her. Of course he suggested meeting on the dramatic cliffs outside Kenabres, and of course he didn’t think to bring wine glasses. Which is fine as far as Ophenia is concerned. She accepts the bottle and takes a swig.

“Hanging by the fingertips,” she repeats drily as she notes this down.

“Well, he did save my life.”

“No no, I like it. Don’t mistake me. Please carry on.”

As he does, they watch the sun slowly set over the Rejuvenated Lands.

“The entire Fleshmarket?”

“That part’s true.”

“Mm-hm.”

“It’s getting dark. You want a lift back to town?”

“A lift? Whatever do you mean?”

He gives her a hand up, singing as he does, and a brilliant flash like the sun coming out suddenly illuminates their cliffside picnic spot, and Ophenia finds before her a huge purple dragon with merry eyes and fairy wings.

But like everything, Ophenia takes this in stride. “So this is the baby havoc dragon in question?”

“Am I in question? Is it a good question? I hope it’s a silly question.” Aivu hunkers down and Siavash gives Ophenia a boost onto her back, then settles in behind her and urges Aivu into a thrilling leap off the cliff before they swoop toward the city.

When she’s finally back on solid ground and Aivu has disappeared through a gate to Elysium, Ophenia tries unsuccessfully to tame her windblown hair and refrain from a burst of girlish laughter.

“It’s been a long time since I…”

“Had fun for real?”

She bites her lip, unable to stop smiling.

“You make so many people happy with your stories,” he says, giving her a little kiss on the cheek. “Same time tomorrow? You’ll never believe what happened when we got back to Drezen…”

#ockiss24 #friends' ocs #ophenia thwait #siavash #pwotr pals #my writing

[intoloopin]

LOOP GOES DISCO #1 - "THE LAST PIT OF HELL IS AN ASSHOLE'S HOTEL BATHROOM."

A SERIES REWRITE OF DISCARDED SCENES USING DISCO ELYSIUM GAME MECHANICS/LINGO.

TWS: Drug use. Cursing. Self deprecating language. Fighting. Forced vomiting. Blood. Feelings being expressed weirdly at inappropriate times (???).

CONTEXT: This is rewrite of a missing scene from END AT ME: it's a glimpse at the Hell party that caused Minwoo to call Taesong on July 14th going 15th + what proceeded the final motel scene by 4 to 6 hours.

starring: Bang Minwoo. Xu 'J.J' Jiahang.

word account: 3.8K / 3,848 words.

writer's note: OKAY, SO! To anyone who's unfamiliar on how DE functions, fear not: this works as it's own thing. But to hopefully get you into the right mood, I'll link a video to the game's intro as well as the skill sheet out of detail so you can grasp what's being evoked here. Most skills have been adapted to fit this new setting and Minwoo's own psychology anyway, so understanding how they function in game or not (hopefully!) won't take away from any fun of this psyche dive. With that being said! Good read! This is the most fun I had all week!

THE ASSHOLE’S HOTEL BATHROOM - Filled with too many soap cabinets and a candelabra for a lamp – things of value but no *practical use* – the Asshole’s Hotel Bathroom looks exactly like you expect it to. To put it simply it's a fancy, cold and soulless shit deposit.

REACTION SPEED (Easy: Success) - Like your goddamn man.

EMPATHY (Challenging: Success) - Like *them*, your man’s ‘friends’, who share no traits with him. Not an hinch of loyalty to anything or anyone.

YOU - You inspect Jiahang, the said man – just a man, his own man – that you have an arm's hold of, dragging along behind you. He doesn’t want to come into the Asshole’s Hotel Bathroom, of course not. He doesn’t want to leave The Party and its Party People either, but he must be surgically extracted from them. He must be attended to, immediately.

ESPRIT DE CORPS (Medium: Fail) - You still have no idea why he jumped on to take what the asshole man offered you, why he tried to bargain your way out of the room at the expense of his already too dazed system, with a dry gulp of a too big pill ill meant for you, putting on a show so you could leave.

INTERFACING (Easy: Success) - As if you would ever choose to escape out of any Hell without him – as if you could make out of any labyrinth without your North Star.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY (Easy: Success) - God, he’s beautiful even while bone deep in physical discomfort. That’s art in real fucking staggering movements, all live, full color. He has mastered the sweet, sweet pain it takes to *be* music. He has beat you at your own game, Minwoo love. Beat you right up. *Beat you good*.

LOGIC (Easy: Success) - Whatever is that he swallowed, he needs it out of his system. Now.

YOU - You lock the door behind you, let his pulse go. You both stand in discrepant different examples of equilibrium at the center of the room.

VISUAL CALCULUS (Easy: Success) - The toilet has its lid already set open, like a paid extra.

“What were you thinking?!”

“You need to throw up. *Now*.”

No talking. No time to waste. Reach forward. Be of help.

YOU - You take an unfocused step forward, leaving two feet between Jiahang and you. The proximity accomplishes nothing: your fingers trail millimeters over his chest, failing to check anything, just shaking.

JIAHANG - "Minwoo hyung, c’mon… Calm down, okay, calm down… I can… take it, I’m alright…," Jiahang’s marijuana voice is something deeper in tone and lighter in sound, close to a whisper. He takes pauses to hold in anxious, misplaced laughs. “It’s not my… First rodeo, so… Calm down…”

LOGIC (Easy: Success) - He’s not new to drugs, that’s what he meant. Both in general, and with today’s doctor’s prescription: weed, cocaine, maybe, and the other thing, the white pill.

ENCYCLOPEDIA (Easy: Success) - You knew this already. You pretended not to, for someone’s sake – you don’t remember who, now – but it’s become obvious to you early on. How could it not when it’s *you*, a Guryo son who knows what to seek for when telling… *high risk riders* apart from any crowd.

LOGIC (Easy: Success) - And yet you did nothing to put a stop to it. You let it come to this. This is as much as your fault as it is the asshole man’s. You’re a fucking asshole man, Asshole Man.

YOU - Your head bends downwards, away from him, away from direct view.

INLAND EMPIRE (Medium: Success) - Because it pains you; the sight of him pains you. It always has. Every inch of his body is a light that cuts right through your retinas, close to being fatal.

DRAMA (Easy: Success) - By God, he’s made you just as blind as the piano and guitar have. *He really is music*.

“Why are you, out of everyone, making stupid fucking decisions?!”

Give me something else. I won’t say that.

YOU - Give me something else. I won’t say that.

HALF LIGHT (Challenging: Fail) - Oh? And why the fuck not?

It’s not what he needs to fucking hear now, shit Head!

The night’s been already harsh enough. Try to be kind or something, fuck Hell.

Please, *please* don’t make me say it. I don’t wanna say it.

YOU - It’s not what he needs to fucking hear now, shit Head!

HALF LIGHT (Challenging: Fail) - Well, fuck-o, this is all you got. Have you forgotten who you are? You’re a brute and ruthless son of a gun. Shoot-words-to-kill, that’s the Bang Minwoo pattern of speech. You know nothing else.

“Why are you, out of everyone, making stupid fucking decisions?!”

[COMPOSURE CHECK: IMPOSSIBLE (3% CHANCE).] Breath.

[LOGIC CHECK: GODLY (27% CHANCE).] Come up with something else. Something soothing. *Anything*.

LOGIC CHECK: FAILURE. - As you search your oceanic brain for a cohesive, less deadly set of words, you find nothing but a dark void and the defeating sound of static. You’re tongue tied. You’re jaw set. You’re furious. You’re terrified. You’re only half inside your own body.

PAIN THRESHOLD (Impossible: Fail) - The smell of urine and powder mixed together, coming straight off the toilet to your nose. The sensation of being too small, too impotent inside a big room that you’ve never seen so big. The body of a loved one shivering close, mad with fever.

INLAND EMPIRE (Challenging: Fail) - It’s all too familiar, isn’t it now, crack baby?

[-1 MORALE.]

THE AWARENESS OF THE LOOP - TIME IS A FLAT FUCKING CIRCLE, AND YOU DREW ITS LINE THEN, AND YOU DREW ITS LINE NOW!

“Why are you, out of everyone, making stupid fucking decisions?!”

[COMPOSURE CHECK: IMPOSSIBLE (1% CHANCE).] Breath.

COMPOSURE CHECK: EPIC FAIL. - Thinking of breathing only makes your breathing worse. Stop. Thinking. Of. It. STOP. IMMEDIATELY.

[-1 PHYSICAL.]

“Why are you, out of everyone, making stupid fucking decisions?!”

YOU - “Why are you, out of everyone, making stupid fucking decisions?!”

JIAHANG - Slowly, as if he’s hearing you with a 15 second delay, Jiahang looks up at you with his big stars for eyes, embedded in a sea of red. “What..?”

“You–! Jesus Christ, you fucking heard me, Jiahang!”

YOU - “You–! Jesus Christ, you fucking heard me, Jiahang!”

“I can’t deal with you having a crash, I can’t witness that sort of *shit*! You know why I fucking can’t!”

YOU - “I can’t deal with you having a goddamn crash, I can’t witness that sort of *shit*! You know why I fucking can’t!”

JIAHANG - The delay’s gone, it seems: in front of you, Jiahang flinches, withers, pressing his tiny lips close together.

AUTHORITY (Challenging: Success) - BE CALM. He’s scared, but not of you – only of himself, what he’s done, and what you might think of him now.

EMPATHY (Medium: Success) - And he’s ashamed of what he took you back to, now that he realizes – the razor sharp flashes of your once uncle seem to flow between you telepathically.

THE BLURRY PHOTO INSIDE YOUR WALLET - *GOODSPEED, BANG WOOHYUN – BELOVED BROTHER, ADORED SON, TRUE FATHER. AND MAY GOD LAY YOU TO REST KINDLY.*

CONCEPTUALIZATION (Medium: Success) - He’s always scared of what people might think of him. It’s his Achilles tendon. When it comes to you, the fear of letting down goes hand in hand with an old, too familiar grief.

UNTRACEABLE RUSH OF DOPAMINE - Tell him. Tell him what we think of him, now and always. It’s time.

“I just don’t get– You or, or! You’re supposed to be music, for shit’s sake! Whatever the fuck that means!”

Don’t make me do this to me now.

I don’t fucking know what I think, alright?! Not about him, not about anything anymore! *I don’t know!* And I don’t want to know! I don’t give a shit! I never fucking have!

YOU - I don’t fucking know what I think, alright?! Not about him, not about anything anymore! *I don’t know!* And I don’t want to know! I don’t give a shit! I never fucking have!

DRAMA (Easy: Success) - Alright, sire, alright. Don’t open the Pandora’s Box that is your stone heart, if you’re too much of a pussy to see what’s been growing inside. Suit your weak self, take the coward’s road. Just be careful not to fall too hard while embarking on this deep, deep sink of yours into that old, old Egyptian river.

ENCYCLOPEDIA (Legendary: Success) - That old Egyptian river is called the Nile river. Say it's determiner and name three times quickly out loud. The joke writes itself.

INLAND EMPIRE (Easy: Success) - Not a easier joke to decipher than *you*, of course, Bang Man.

JIAHANG - It takes him a while, but Jiahang eventually recovers; straightens his spine up, grows back to big. “If you can’t see it, then… leave, then. You can… do that. You brought me my bag, I– I took the *thing* for you, you’re free– free to go. So go on. Turn around, just turn– turn around, if that’s what… what you want so bad!”

[VOLITION RED CHECK: IMPOSSIBLE (0% CHANCE). YOU CAN’T RETRY IT.] Leave.

I can’t leave him.

“I can’t leave you!”

YOU - I can’t leave him.

PERCEPTION (Heroic: Fail) - Ah, yes. That you have no strength to do. It's as simple as that.

“I can’t leave you – not like this!”

“I can’t leave you – not with them!”

“I just *can’t leave you*!”

YOU - “I can’t leave you, Jiahang – not like this!”

JIAHANG - You see a frown show up on his forehead as he mouths ‘like this’, like it’s an insult, but doesn’t say it. What he does say is a frustrated, confused plea of, “Then what, Minwoo? Then *what*?!”

HAND/EYE COORDINATION (Easy: Success) - Oh, sire. You know exactly what you must do.

[SUGGESTION CHECK: FORMIDABLE (38% CHANCE).] Convince Jiahang to throw up. Keep talking. He’s giving in.

[REACTION SPEED CHECK: CHALLENGING (65% CHANCE).] Make him throw up. You’ve lost too much damn time already with all this fucking talking.

[PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT RED CHECK: IMPOSSIBLE (1% CHANCE). YOU CAN’T RETRY IT.] Shove him into the bathtub and turn on the ice cold shower. Let the thermal shock overwhelm him, then make him throw up there. It’s risky, but it feels like the way.

REACTION SPEED CHECK: FAIL. You raise your arms and grab him suddenly by the elbows, catching him visibly by surprise – and it all goes quickly downhill from there.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT (Challenging: Epic Fail) - Your limbs struggle to make him bend any way, let alone to the direction of the toilet or the floor. Under your feet, the humid ground keeps you from grounding yourself enough to make any of this work. Nothing’s in your favor. You realize your mistake too late.

RHETORIC (Easy: Success) - You should have thought this through. Jiahang is, after all, much taller than you – and much too cherished for your hands to dare squeeze or scratch.

YOU - Your fingers let go without you telling them to. Bad equilibrium disrupted, Jiahang slips on the wet tiles and falls sideways, head bumping with the toilet’s unforgiving ceramic, nose first, sound second: a horrible cry out of pain you heard just once.

[CRITICAL MORALE DAMAGE.]

[CRITICAL PHYSICAL DAMAGE.]

YOU - DEAR GOD. MY DEAR GOD.

EMPATHY (Medium: Success): DON’T SHUT DOWN – YOU CAN’T. IT MAKES YOU MORE VICIOUS. YOU DIDN’T MEAN TO: HE MUST KNOW YOU DIDN’T MEAN TO. RUSH TO PROVE IT– HELP!

JUMP TO HELP!

YOU - YOU JUMP TO HELP! You’re on your knees quicker than you’ve ever been, palming his back, his shoulder.

JIAHANG - He glimpses at you sideways, then hides his face away, turning it to the opposite side. A lonely stream of blood drips from his left nostril, and he rushes to cover it with his trembling hand. You notice; you hear a sob.

RETHORIC (Heroic: Fail) - You’re a wordsmitch, fuck face, or are you not?! SAY SOMETHING. FIX THIS.

“Fuck, you– You didn’t give me *any other choice*, like!!!”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry so so sorry I’m sorry sorry!!!!!!”

Fuck it. Focus on the mission. Put your fingers down his throat. Count damages later.

YOU - Make the worst worth it, you think, as you scoopes his face in.

LOGIC (Medium: Fail) - Will it even accomplish anything? The white pill’s been in his system for over 20 minutes, not to mention all the rest, a pool party of shit in his bloodstream. Anyhow: better safe than sorry, you assume – you pray.

YOU - You fight to get your fingers into his mouth, meet a wall of teeth, a resistence of tongue; it opens after you let out a small curse, like a castle’s gate.

SUGGESTION (Easy: Success) - So *this* is how it feels.

PERCEPTION (Medium: Success) - Under you, he’s stopped moving. Jiahang has no real strength or deep desire to push you out or hurt you. He might even understand the invasion, under the haze; be grateful for it, even.

YOU - You feel it when it comes, a stream of bile. You remove your hand and wipes it on your trousers, sees Jiahang bending over to sit and spill sick yellow vomit for seconds, a minute.

ENCYCLOPEDIA (Easy: Success) - Even though you’ve hurt him not a second ago – it wasn’t even the first time, either – he hasn’t bitten a single finger of yours off when he had the chance. Not a follower of the Eye For an Eye school of thinking, this pupil of yours, despite your suffocating influence. That’s good. You’re nothing but a bad preacher of a bad religion.

JIAHANG - When he’s done spitting and coughing, Jiahang begins to curl into himself, turning into a quiet small ball on the floor, too close to the release pool.

“I’m sorry. It was the only way– I’m sorry.”

“Jiahang-ah, please, let me take a look at you – Let me look at you, *please*.”

[AUTHORITY CHECK: EASY. 92% CHANCE.] “Show me your nose, now.”

AUTHORITY CHECK: SUCCESS.

YOU - “Show me your nose, now.”

PERCEPTION (Easy: Success) - He does, without a fight, lying on the floor with his head facing the ceiling. It’s bad, the bruise – the damage. You help guide him to sit up straight as he can.

YOU - You extend your hand to the side, up– The toilet paper dances off the holder as you push it, and it rolls away. You get enough of it to wrap it over your open palm three times, to make an amateur glove. You wipe the trace of blood off his mouth as gently as you can.

JIAHANG - “I’m such a… mess, just so–!” He cries, suddenly; a dam of tears, hot and uncontainable. “Awful, *awful* thing, disgusting fucking– fucking *thing*!”

“I know. I know exactly what you are.”

“That’s not all there is to you, baby, it’s not all there is to you at all, listen to me, honey, *listen*, **please listen**.”

“You could be worse.”

YOU - “You could be worse.”

JIAHANG - This gets his attention. “How even– Worse how?” Jiahang asks, mid hiccup, mid wail. “Give me one– One fucking example, if you… can. Can you? You *can’t*, can you?!”

SHIVERS (Medium: Success) - Around you and around him, The Party keeps on going, like a nonstop train. Your ears attune themselves to the purr of it – it's a habit. You’re too often outside rooms buzzing with life, only listening in through paper thin walls, missing the experience of it.

EMPATHY (Heroic: Success) - No one has come to check on him, you both have realized – Jiahang a minute faster than you. None of his Party People friends give a flying fuck. The reality is falling down on him like a skyscraper, crushing, breathtaking, killer.

AUTHORITY (Legendary: Success) - LET THE OUTSIDE WORLD GO QUIET. THERE IS SOMETHING HE WANTS TO HEAR YOU SAY.

[REACTION SPEED RED CHECK: IMPOSSIBLE (11% CHANCE.) YOU CAN’T RETRY IT.] Start listing the real world things that are worse than him. (There’s a ton, and you know them intimately – and you know him intimately. Give Jiahang something else to weep for.)

[DRAMA RED CHECK, IMPOSSIBLE (9% CHANCE.) YOU CAN’T RETRY IT.] Start listing the unreal, out of this world things worse than him – the ones you’ve seen in your open eyed dreams. (Not as many options, but a tad lighter. Make the sadness disappear, bring anything close to a laugh back. Be the mad man for a great cause.)

[INLAND EMPIRE RED CHECK: LEGENDARY (26% CHANCE). YOU CAN’T RETRY IT.] “You could be like me. I’m worse than you’ll ever be.” (The truth. It can only hurt you.)

Say nothing.

INLAND EMPIRE CHECK: SUCCESS.

YOU - “You could be like me. I’m worse than you’ll ever be.”

LOGIC (Challenging: Success) - There is nothing worse than you, False Prophet, Fake Noah. Obsessed with connecting melodies, speaking truthfully only through rhyme schemes on pieces of paper that meet no one, only the bottom of trash cans or the back of your hard pillow. You’re not functional. You’re no leading man. You’re no good.

INLAND EMPIRE (Medium: Success) - But it feels good, doesn’t it? To finally admit how rotten you are after a whole life of pretending you’re a giving three, a good soil.

EMPATHY (Challenging: Success) - To say to someone who knows it, understands it, and stays.

[+1 MORALE]

Wait, I gained a fucking morale point from THAT?!

YOU - What the actual fuck?!

RHETORIC (Medium: Success) - You’re neck deep into shit, pal. Just count your win. It’s only a consolidation medal, nothing more, nothingbless – kiddo needs his fake prizes to fill his kiddo fuel.

JIAHANG - “But… I feel like you already,” he tells you. “All the time, hyung… All the time, I feel like you– Angry, and upset, and– and so lonely.”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT (Easy: Success) - Wait, what’s that taunting your face, blocking your neck…? Oh, fucking Hell…! You’re crying! You’re nodding at him and crying!

AUTHORITY (Impossible: Fail) - HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU CRYING?! You don’t do that anymore, you’ve forgotten how. Revoke it. Revoke it along with all this sweat taking over your body.

“Don’t you dare say that.”

“I’m sorry, Jiahang. This is not– Not what I wanted to happen.”

“Just– Give me a minute, God, give me a minute!”

YOU - “I’m sorry, Jiahang. This is not– Not what I wanted to happen.”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT (Easy: Success) - The tears prickle your eyes, actually turn you momentarily blind. You blink, hard, adjusting to their salt. It reminds you of how hard to stomach you are, inside out.

PAIN THRESHOLD (Medium: Success) - And it reminds you of how much saltier you’ve used to be. The tears are already falling off your sad sockets, sire – let them.

[+1 PHYSICAL.]

JIAHANG - “It’s not so bad, right, I think, to have… Turned into *this*, because– You’re no longer… lonely, and… Neither am I, right…? We can both be happy with that, be happy…” He doesn’t finish speaking; just closes his eyes, closes his mouth.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY (Medium: Fail) - We like the visual he’s evoking, Minwoo love. Picture the two of you, holding hands, walking right into the dooming sun– Oh, oh! Romeo and Romeo, tongue deep into each other’s poison bitter throats!!!

EMPATHY (Medium: Success) - Your man’s not right. He’s fading. This isn’t the Jiahang you want; most importantly, this isn’t the Jiahang that *Jiahang wants*. This is no good, Minwoo.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY (Medium: Fail) - It’s as close as we'll ever get to having any Jiahang *at all*. Enjoy it! We should kiss him now. Seal this deal right up. Two shots of Marriage In Misery and a whole bottle of Honeymoon On The Floor (Animal Style) coming *right the fuck up*, sign it to the wingless lovebirds right there, near the piss jar!!!

EMPATHY (Medium: Success) - Let go of his hand. Check his eyes. Help him up.

INLAND EMPIRE (Legendary: Fail) - Or perhaps this is the time for you to leave. You shouldn’t have ever touched him, to begin with. You shouldn’t have spoken a single word beyond ‘Goodbye’ to this man when he was still a graduating boy. You shouldn’t have made him think that he needed to cling to ruination to shine. You shouldn't have come to know any of them.

Kiss Jiahang. (ANIMAL FUCKING STYLE!!!)

Check Jiahang up (medically.), then help him up. You both need to leave the Asshole's Hotel Bathroom and The Asshole’s Hotel all together.

Walk away – Just walk away. His shortness of breath seems contagious. It’s sticking to your lungs.

YOU - It takes no effort to untangle your hands from his, to place them both on his cheeks, tend to the temperature.

ENCYCLOPEDIA (Challenging: Success) - His skin is at 110 degrees, to be precise. The lucky-unlucky number, if you’ll believe it.

LOGIC (Medium: Success) - It’s a mind and body turmoil. I’m afraid you can do nothing about it.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN, *DO NOTHING*?! FUCK OFF.

I can do something, I– I feel it.

I refuse to let him fall. I reject it.

YOU - I refuse to let him fall. I reject it.

INLAND EMPIRE (Medium: Success) - Cute, my lord, but still not enough. You might as well swear to become a whole different man, in your desperation, if you want to make this medicine of yours come true – transform into a superhuman, super empathic man suit. Like the Taesong Taesong thinks he is.

Good, I’ll swear on it, I’ll be it – I've been waiting for an excuse to tend to the internal damage and start a renovation. This is will be my new wallpaper.

No, don’t swear on it, fool – There’s no need to be extreme. *There’s no guarantee it will work*.

YOU - No, don’t swear on it, fool – There’s no need to be extreme. *There’s no guarantee it will work.*

ENCYCLOPEDIA (Challenging: Success) - Exactly. Hold your horses, Bang Man. Take this promise in. You never tried to be anything besides what you are now. You’re a 26-year-old hound – in dog years that’s 116 to 128 years of living. There’s no space inside your head for new tricks, new instincts.

DRAMA (Easy: Success) - You’re chained to a wall, my liege. You have to tear it the fuck down, and clean the concrete aftermath, and rise from the ashes of it – full Fenix style. Fail at that and you’ll be here again, if not in this asshole’s hotel bathroom, then another asshole’s hotel bathroom; if not with him, then with someone else, just as meaningful. You got the need for change, now? The need to compromise the fuck out of you?!

AUTHORITY (Heroic: Success): Say you got it now.

Fine. I guess I got it now.

I got it! I fucking got it, goddammit!

I understand.

YOU - I understand.

INLAND EMPIRE (Challenging: Success) - My, oh my… It seems you really do.

THE AWARENESS OF THE LOOP - *OH?* OH! THIS IS A REAL STEP, THIS IS SOMETHING – OH, THIS IS *REALLY SOMETHING NOW*, LITTLE MOON, WHAT A MAGNIFICENT EFFORT! THIS IS PROGRESS YOU’RE HOLDING THE HAND OF, AND IT’S PLEASED TO MEET YOU AT LAST, SO PLEASED TO MEET YOU! THE THING ABOUT IT– THE THING WITH PROGRESS, SHARP-TOOTHED ONE, IS THAT THERE IS NEVER ANY INGLORIOUS END – THERE’S NO END TO IT AT ALL!

[HIDDEN TASK, ‘TAKE THE 1ST STEP OF A 100 INTO METAMORPHOSIS’, COMPLETE.]

[+30 EXPERIENCE.]

[YOU CAN LEVEL UP A SKILL NOW.]

[END?]

[END.]

#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ extras . #&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ writing . #fictional idol community #fake kpop group #kpop au #kpop fanfic #kpop oc #I'm just a girl having fun!!!!!

[thesteriuswife]

Waters of March

Summary: Dianthus invites Theseus and Asterius out for a picnic. Set earlier in their relationship.

Notes: Incredibly self indulgent... focused on Asterius' POV.

TWs: Alcohol makes an appearance towards the end (😱)

~ 2077 words. Titled after the song Waters of March, which has many versions both in English and in Spanish! I mostly listened to the cover by Simon & Garfunkel while writing this.

Asterius stood in the small herb garden that grew in front of Dianthus’ home. A mess of different spices, some he recognized from the various dishes she cooked for Theseus and himself: parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme… the red bulbs of Cretan saffron painted a vivid portrait in what was otherwise a sea of green. Through the window of her house he could see Dianthus in her kitchen, washing freshly picked vegetables. She always sang when attending to a chore, and always grew shy when she had an audience. But to hear her voice, sweet and smooth like honey, was always a treat. And so he listened, and waited for her to notice him. When she did finally spy him waiting outside, her song paused with a gasp. She peeked her head out, silently, then Asterius watched as she disappeared from view. It was only a few seconds later that he saw her bounding out the front door, and then into his arms. “Asterius! What are you doing here? Did you just want to come see me?” “I did,” Asterius admitted. “I wanted to visit you.” “How sweet of you..” with a mischievous grin she pressed her face to his chest, half burying herself in his fur. The way she smiled at him always warmed his heart, and today was no different. They stood together in peaceful silence, for a time. Asterius watched as her gaze pried away from him, over towards the misty blue skies of Elysium. She tilted her head, poked at the golden frame of her glasses, and hummed. “You know, Asterius, it was smart of you to wait out here. Doesn’t the weather feel especially nice today? It’s as if something is in the air… even the Lethe seems to shimmer so much more vibrantly than usual.” Asterius gave a gentle snort. “It doesn’t seem different to me,” he admitted. He didn’t have the same sense of poetry Theseus or Dianthus did. As such, he often didn’t know what either of them were talking about. There were times where he wished he was more elegant in that way, but such a skill would be wasted on him when he wasn’t much of a conversationalist to begin with.  “Asterius…!” Dianthus’ voice rang out, cutting through the cloud of his thoughts. She reached up to pat his cheek; a difficult task due to their height difference, but she managed.  “You simply have yet to experience this day to its fullest! It’s not enough to simply be idle, you have to have fun with it, too! And I know just the thing!” Without explanation, Dianthus gripped the bull’s hand, with the clear intention of dragging him off to who-knows-where. When Asterius did not wish to do something, he was easy to make himself akin to a brick wall. But the Lady Dianthus always had pleasurable plans, and this would surely be no different— and so he was content to be pulled around for now.

“My Lady Dianthus! Surely you are aware that I appreciate a good mystery every now and again… but won’t you please tell me what your plans are?!” Theseus pouted; he had been working on completing some documents for Lord Hades, but was promptly forced out of his noble bedroom and into the great outdoors. Asterius did not intervene, even while watching Dia half-coax, half-shove Theseus out of the house. “You have been dragging dear Asterius and I along for all this distance, and we’ve not understood for a moment what your intentions are!”

“You worry far too much!” Dianthus huffed in response. “Besides, we’re almost there.”

The layout of Elysium was strange and confusing; for those living within its vast fields, its gates would always lead to somewhere they wanted (or, if they’re unaware of their own desires, to somewhere they needed). But for those who did not belong to the realm, it was a veritable labyrinth. Dianthus, being the daughter of Elysium’s gardener, seemed privy to locations that others may find difficult to access.

The glade she’d brought them to seemed nearly untouched. Wild flowers grew abundant within it: Rock-roses blossomed low to the ground, dotting the plains with a soft pink. A smaller branch of the Lethe flowed throughout, shallow enough that pebbles could be clearly seen beneath its blue waters.

“Now that we’re here…” Dianthus reached beneath the pink fabric of her peplos, and pulled out a basket that she’d somehow hidden away. “It’s time we start setting up for our picnic!”

Theseus beamed, his eyes glittering at the reveal. “Oh~ho!! What a lovely idea, my lady!”

“I know!” Dianthus replied. “Theseus, I want you to help me set up. And Asterius, since you’re tall, you can pick some fruit for us!”

Asterius did not complain when Dianthus shoved a small basket into his arms (though he did grow slightly concerned when watching Theseus fumble with a quilt Dianthus had handed him; the king was elegant during battle and nowhere else).

Deciding it would be best to leave the king to his own devices for now, Asterius turned his gaze towards the fruit trees. Most carried figs, he noted. Some had grown overripe and fallen to the ground; the strange butterflies that fluttered through Elysium had settled upon them, idly drinking their sweet nectar. Careful as to not disturb them, Asterius reached for figs of his own. Theseus and himself liked them more than Dianthus, but she would not complain when presented with one, especially if it was cooked. He’d have to remember to suggest a fig cake to her when they returned home.

Once he’d picked enough fruit for three people, Asterius walked to the water that flowed through the glade. He first placed his basket into the stream, then sat beside it, allowing his feet to soak within the Lethe.

It was a small pleasure, to be certain, but there were few things he loved more than lounging in quiet tranquility… his sensitive ears picked up on the sound of Dia and Theseus fussing with one another as they prepared;they were certainly not yet ready for him to return. He chose, instead, to close his eyes.

Elysium’s breeze was gentle, and warmer than it had been recently. It was not always stagnant within the Blessed Fields. While the march of time was different here from how it was on the surface, the seasons did change. The summer nymphs who made their home within the fields would grow tired and rest, resulting in their autumnal cousins emerging from their slumber— the leaves of Elysium’s trees would turn red, and fall.

Dianthus had once told him that, were she full nymph and not half human, she would likely feel the same need to slow down and rest until the first coming of spring.Asterius found himself glad that Dianthus was merely half nymph, and not whole. Even if her rest had only been a short one, he would have missed her dearly.

“Asterius, the lady and I are ready for you! Come quickly!” Asterius turned, and saw Theseus jumping up and down in an attempt to grab his attention (despite the fact that he already had it). Taking his basket of fruit with him, he stood.

When he returned to his lovers, Dianthus quickly took the figs from him. She gave each a quick inspection; he must have done a good job, for Dianthus gave a well satisfied nod once she had finished.

“Asterius, thank you so much!”, she said. “You’re the sweetest bullman in the world, did you know that?”

“I did,” Asterius replied, deciding to leave the fact that he was the only bullman in the world unmentioned for now.

Dianthus placed the basket of fruit next to her, then rummaged through the items she’d brought: a few bottles of nectar, some different fancy jams, bread (freshly baked), cookies made with pressed flowers, small sandwiches, expensive cheeses, a jar filled with unrefined sugar, silverware…

Distracted by the sheer number of items Dianthus had somehow managed to pack away, Asterius jolted when a small plate was shoved into his hands. A cut fig sat beside a piece of toasted bread, which had already been slathered with his favourite jam (in this case, raspberry). He looked up to see both his lovers looking at him expectedly; when he was still newly within the Blessed Fields, they’d always wait for Asterius to eat first during their meals together, always curious about what he liked, and what he didn’t. Now, it’d simply become a habit. Asterius took the piece of bread from his plate, and took as small a bite as he could… (which in the end, wasn’t a small bite at all).

“It’s good,” he said, and both smiled at him.

No longer having any reason to wait, they started on their own plates (and fought, only slightly playfully, over who had the more intense sweet tooth.)

Watching them, Asterius couldn’t help but to smile as well.

Some time had passed since they decided to set up their picnic. No longer focused on food, Dianthus and Theseus had taken to chatting. Asterius would give his input only when he felt it necessary. They knew his quietness was not disinterest: he simply preferred listening to talking.

“ I almost forgot…I brought this!” Dianthus reached again into her basket, and pulled from it a bottle of ambrosia. The liquid within glittered as if it were truly made of gold. It was little more than honey and a bit of nymph magic, Dianthus had once explained, and yet it was a drink meant only for champions. “Theseus, I took it from your stash… sorry.”.

“It is perfectly fine, my lady! …Though I am curious when you found the time to sneak it away with everything else you’ve brought!”

“Oh! Don’t worry about it.” Ignoring Theseus’ pout, Dianthus handed him a glass. She tilted the bottle of ambrosia into his cup, and the honeyed liquid shimmered within it. She did the same for Asterius, though he was always served a larger portion in turn.

Ambrosia tasted slightly different for all who drank it: Theseus claimed that, for him, the flavour brought to mind the same sensation he felt when he was victorious after a rousing battle. For Dianthus, it tasted like the joy of springtime. The first time Asterius tasted it, he found it flavourless. These days… it always made him think of the people he cared for most. Something like the dandelion wine Theseus loved so much, or perhaps the grapes that Dianthus would crush to make juice with…

Lost in thought, he did not notice when Dia had reached over to place her hand over his own. So small, and yet any fear that he may accidentally harm her had long since dissipated. Ambrosia clung to her lips. Though she’d only just taken a sip, her cheeks were already becoming rosy.

“It’s nice to spend time together like this, isn’t it?”, she asked him.

“Yes, it is.”

Asterius gazed down at his cup, which was dwarfed in his large hands. He might have felt bothered by it some years ago— another reminder of how the world was not made for monsters such as him. But he thought of how it was those same hands which aided Theseus in battle now, and later could just as gently twirl his finger into one of Dianthus’ long dreads (a rare privilege; the lady typically did not enjoy having her hair touched). Asterius could not love these features of his in the same way they did… and yet… the fact that he was loved at all made him feel content with them all the same. It made his chest swell with the same warmth he felt when he entered Elysium for the first time, the freedom to exist in a world that was bright and new to him.

Before taking his first sip, he turned his snout upwards to gaze at the endless blue of Elysium’s sky. The clouds borne from the mist of the Lethe passed idly overhead, occasionally blotting out the light of Ixion. A strong breeze caused the grass beneath him to sway, and the petals of the realm’s wildflowers danced alongside it. And when Asterius brought his glass to his mouth, and drank,he found that the flavour was richer than it had ever been before.

#📚 codex #🌺👑🐂 love in idleness #If there's any formatting issues please just ignore them getting this uploaded in and of itself was a complete nightmare 💔

[nicki0kaye]

expand on your zagreus pissing off asterius tags pls i would like to hear them :3

Just like!!! the implication that Theseus is a 'bad influence' on a guy who has clearly been in Elysium longer than Zag's probably been alive

and take all this with a grain of salt, I haven't replayed Hades in a hot minute, but I've had this opinion since I got into the mf

like, I'm sure Zag doesn't mean anything by it, if you read the codex, there is no real mention of what Asterius went through, he clearly has no idea what actually happened during either Asterius' or Theseus' lives and cannot follow why certain things piss Theseus off so much

so Zag has no idea he's talking down to a guy who ate people to survive. There's a lot of hero worship getting in the way. And Asterius is polite to him out of a sense of honor, but it's clear he doesn't consider Zag a friend. Asterius doesn't have issues with chatty mfs, he's in an eternal fraternal bond with Theseus ffs, but he keeps his conversations with Zag curt and to the point, and imo it's bc he's sure Zag sees him as a poor babby who is being led around by the nose and had/has no actual agency in his relationship with Theseus.

When Theseus is losing his shit over Zag replacing him, Asterius says something along the lines of "he's no threat to our bond; he doesn't even understand it." Like...to Asterius, Zag serves his purpose. He's a fun kid to spar with. That is the extent of their relationship in his eyes, bc he isn't going to degrade himself to get this kid to understand he is right where he wants to be, doing what he wants to do, and no one has caged him or manipulated him to get him here. If Zag can't see that using his own eyes, he isn't worth the wasted breath to explain it, beyond correcting direct statements. Theseus is the man he respects most, not because Theseus is his king or bc he owes Theseus for bringing him to Elysium (though he may site that as means of shorthand), but bc Theseus has earned that respect and trust through action.

I wrote a whole fic trying to deconstruct this idea that Asterius would only know Theseus in Elysium, that he only learned about the world through Theseus' guidance--and also the idea that Asterius is an inherently noble soul who had no issues adjusting after spending his entire mortal life in periods of isolation broken only by having to murder for food and survival. I like the idea that Asterius chooses to be noble and polite, chooses how he presents himself to others, makes those choices based on years of experience and trial and error in socializing from an extremely unique and disadvantaged position as a literal monster in paradise. And yes he chooses to emulate Theseus, but that's still an informed choice. He loves and respects that idiot, and he keeps Zagreus at arms length. What's the difference? Theseus actually knows who Asterius is and respects him in turn.

If you want more Zagreus slander, I wrote another fic that diverges halfway through to drag him for not understanding dick about shit

#nik v hades #nik v fic #I LOVE ZAGREUS BTW #I LOVE THAT HE DOESN'T KNOW DICK ABOUT SHIT #ITS A GREAT CHOICE

[chthonicgodling]

In real time, who was the last person to make Loki laugh and was there context behind it ?

(Accepting EeL questions again come humor me!!)

🥺🥺 oh god oh no this is SUCH a cute question i……. wish I had an equally as cute and fluffy answer because I most certainly do NOT lmAO UH-

yknow I.,,,, lemme explain something in case i somehow haven’t made this crystal clear even though iiiiii feel like I’ve outlined the circumstances pretty clearly over the years but especially the last few months. Loki’s family is the Elysium palace wholeheartedly, he cares deeply about the people he lives with and is the happiest he’s ever been, especially now lately through this new exciting ongoing tryst with Maci and Tory and ESPECIALLY now lately that they’ve scooped him very possessively into their bed at this moment in time to give him the baby and this is all mushy gushy lovey dovey like living in a dream.

would Loki ever ever ever ever ever ever admit any of that ever EVER?????

absolutely not<3 all that up there and STILL Loki absolutely must keep up appearances in skulking coolly around and glowering scowling OR wryly smirking, all that up there wrt Maci and Tory and he’s STILL SOMEHOW PRETENDING that Ugh Please I don’t Cuddle 😒😒 (?!?!?!?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING THEN) lmfao even re: all these little games in the bedroom with them he’s SUCH a stubborn prideful brat that his safeword only exists bc he otherwise insists on eyerolling and whining and fighting and they can’t fuckin tell the difference (again this is A DREAM COME TRUE also he’s never once tapped out of. anything. brat brat brat. INSUFFERABLE just admit you LIKE them aaAHH)

So UGH I waantttt to be able to coo and say yeah Loki gigglefits while snuggled with his temporary play partners but ffs of cOURSE NOT cause that means they win😒that means admitting he likes all of these people 🙄 it actually was Tory ANYWAY though but not the way you’d think UGH

during that period of constant anxious interrogation between “you really want to have a baby with me???” and “…ok surprise I was already pregnant that whole time.” One of Loki and Tory’s many talks about it, I think I posted bits of it on the other blog, in which Loki kept coming up with “well what about — this? And what about— if this? And if that?” And Tory had an even calm reassuring response for every SINGLE thing Loki threw at him. Finally after Loki was like “okay well what if you and Maci change your minds and you both turn on me or turn on each other BECAUSE of me and this child single-handedly causes the entire downfall of your marriage what THEN checkMATE” and Tory finally was like …..I think you’re just gonna have to trust us on that one

…the god of Lies proceeded to laugh in his face (dragging his hands over his face and collapsing in a defeated heap. “Yeah, I know,” said Tory.)

Anxious laughter of disbelief SHOULDNT really count though so quick addendum. I did actual research into this!! Loki brand genuine laughter before that was *checks notes* oh. uhh. well that’s extremely nsfw. But it was also Tory. lmao lmao kind of. uhhhhhh.

…..hang on scooting over to the nsfwblog again….. right here <33

I’m going to be extremely vague dggdkgkgk, time period this was like, right before Baby Decisions. I’ve mentioned the specific trio dynamic is in which Tory doms Loki but Maci doms them both<333 since really at the end of the day Tory’s a sub leaning switch at heart lmao (did we know this? mwah) and so, well, if Maci’s not there supervising that DOES sometimes make Tory susceptible…… to well, Loki being able to bat his eyelashes and purrtalk his own way out of situations. for example perhaps that key that I keep vaguely mentioning is floating around on a necklace shared by Maci and Tory that I refuse to elaborate further about —

Anyway flipping Tory upside down metaphorically/very physically is ABSOLUTELY grounds for all smug giggles and fun and games!! until Maci comes back and laughs louder and brat-wrangles back to normal 🤦🏻‍♀️ (it is worth mentioning that horny idiot will continue doing this infinitely to obtain the same result. does the punishment fit the crime??? uh hello absolutely that’s the whole POINT,)

OKAY LEAVING THE NSFW SECTION How about the last person to make him really smile?????? ….help that was also Tory (and Maci). Just last night one half flicker of a real smile very quickly before anyone catches him CAN be obtained with the very easy formula of: snuggle tightly, purr, gib kiss.,, EASY. ohghhhgghh

Anywayyyyyy this answer is perhaps insane but it’s been typed with little to no proofreading at nearly 1 am so. yikes augh THANK U THO

one of my goals in all of this truly is to get One Genuine Gushy Lovey Moment on Loki’s end, let’s laugh and smile and snuggle and PLEASE?!!!?! cause Maci and Tory are soooooooo on top of that like even though they ARE NOT BECOMING A COUPLE (through gritted teeth and insistence!!) I just 🥺 can we get ONE I love you from Loki please eee eee we’ve already got them from Tory and Maci plEEEA A S EEEE—

#long post // #eloki #NSFWTXT // #JUST ONE SMOL BIT

[spectre-ship]

2022 has been an excellent year for video games, by which I mostly mean the weird indie stuff I like (the only major release I played was Elden Ring, actually.) I figure I'll put up a highlights reel of smaller things I liked that came out this year:

- Iron Lung: great little spooky game by the Dusk guy. I really like games like this, little 1 or 2 hour experiences that focus on doing one thing really well. Also a great example of how budget development can be turned in the game's favor--the gameplay revolving around taking grainy photos hides the game world's relative barrenness, and the choice to use an FPS engine for a game where you pilot a submarine does a lot to make the game feel more claustrophobic than something with a dedicated interface would.

- Card Shark: a narrative adventure game telling a picaresque story of 18th century France. It's a little uneven, but it's basically Barry Lyndon's Warioware--I had a lot of fun with it. Has a really gorgeous artstyle as well as a great soundtrack.

- Trombone Champ: I know this was the streamer game du jour back in September, but it's genuinely pretty fun and has some really great jokes, as well as doing a hell of a lot with a largely public domain soundtrack. I think it's a lot more innovative than it seems--it's a rhythm game where you actually play the music note by note, instead of hitting buttons for canned soundbytes.

- The Case of the Golden Idol: a Return of the Obra Dinn-esque mystery game (I think a lot of people, myself included, heard about it when Lucas Pope signal boosted it.) Has a pretty novel method of deduction making and a really ingenious final twist. The plot is more outlandish than I'd expected but it executes some pretty interesting ideas. Also, it has an enjoyably weird artstyle--sort of a grotesque Monkey Island kind of thing.

- Frog Detective 3: I played the whole trilogy in 2 days. Very cute and has some good jokes in it.

- Pentiment: Easily game of the year for me, I beat it day 1 and then posted about it for a week straight. An ingeniously constructed visual novel* about the grand tapestry of history and the rippling effect of our choices throughout our lives and those of others. I don't want to drag this out because I've described my thoughts on it elsewhere and I'd need a whole book on its own to get all of them down, but suffice to say it's an incredible game.

Also an honorable mention to Gloomwood, a promising immersive sim that went into early access in October, and an honorable mention to Dwarf Fortress for its Steam release, which despite a couple minor hiccups has gotten me playing that game more than I have in half a decade.

I haven't finished FAITH 3 or played Norco, but those are also on my list for this year, so I'll reblog with an addendum if I get around to either before January.

*"visual novel" used loosely here. it's somewhere between Night in the Woods and Disco Elysium, but visual novel feels like the most appropriate term due to the amount of reading involved.

#goty 2022 #iron lung #card shark #trombone champ #frog detective #pentiment #gloomwood #dwarf fortress #the case of the golden idol

[lovehotelreservation]

Healslut

Summary: Not your own Leader caring this much about your DPS as a healer!

Truly, this training session is going to be so bothersome!

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: F!Reader/Regis

IYKYK 😭😭😭😭😭

--------------

It was always the most pestering thing when the easiest of tasks was made to be impossibly difficult.

In this case, your current crux of aggravation was taking down a target dummy with the power of your offensive magic–a fair and straightforward endeavor for a healer of your prowess. After all, your association with the renowned Adventurer’s Guild TEMPUS brought some prestige to your name throughout the lands of Elysium.

And yet, here you were, barely able to cobble together any sense of concentration to imbue your staff with enough magic to fire at your target.

But how could you, really?

Even while you tightly gripped your staff with not a shred of slack in the slightest, you were still left to tremble, any recitations of magic marred by breathless gasps and whines.

Your knees buckled, your face scorched scarlet, your thighs quivered, your robes disheveled–your current visage was far and away from the adored image of TEMPUS’s trusted healer.

And it was all in part due to the land’s acclaimed hero.

Their Regis, your Altare.

For while you held a great deal of respect for your Leader, you yearned to take a nice and solid swing at his knee with your staff as penance for what he was currently doing to you.

A re-establishment of the basics to adventuring at the training hall–it was what he proposed exclusively to you after a recent dungeon endeavor with him and the other TEMPUS members. Under his watchful gaze, your insistence on overhealing instead of taking time to assist with needed offense only served to drag out your time descending further into the murky depths that awaited you all.

For the commonfolk of Elysium, such a suggestion from the soft-spoken, smiley hero would only serve to live up to his golden stellar reputation.

But before your eyes, in your ears, and on your skin, this advice only drew out your further ire.

Especially as you once again conjured up your magic to send a disk of magic ricocheting right over to the training dummy, it was at the same exact moment that your leader shifted ever so slightly from where he stood behind you.

His hands–ever skillfully deft with a sword and happily extended for any weary soul to take–continued to roam along your body, with one having been shoved through the front of your robes to fondle your breasts all while the other continued to travel along your side, giving your hip and your ass a squeeze. 

This was all in tandem to the push and plunge of his cock in-between your bared thighs, his thick girth gliding seamlessly right against the slick, velvety warmth of your core’s entrance. 

His lips, usually fixed in that serene and dreamy smile of his, continued to drag along the side of your neck, happy and eager to leave mementos of his presence from kisses and bites on your skin.

His voice, ever a sweet and soft articulated timber, only sought to make you cry out and shudder in anticipation from every filthy thing he murmured to you.

“Remember, if you can’t clear such a simple task, I get to stain that pretty face of yours with my cum while calling over Dez, Vesper, and Axel over to take a good long look at you~”

Whatever spell you were planning to release at last simply eviscerated before your very eyes as you whined with the helpless buckle of your knees and the tight press of your thighs.

Altare was laughing, taking a moment to steal yet another nibble to your neck while he quickened the pace of his thrusts.

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t think that cute thigh clench is gonna go unnoticed by me~ Not that I’m surprised–of course a healslut like you would be excited from being humiliated in front of your comrades.”

Your teeth clenched. “Don’t even start, Altare–”

“‘Me’?” There was amusement to his tone–without looking back at him, you knew his eyes were glittering with thrill at your defiance. “And just who is in this predicament right now, hmm?” He tested, this time bringing his teeth to your earlobe for a teasing nip. “Not my fault that our lovely healer isn’t being efficient while on the job~”

Your eyes narrowed, your face snapping towards him with a glare. “Do you want to survive, or what–?!”

It was in that moment that your staff instantly thrummed full with magic, of which you didn’t waste another moment further to send crackling through the air to send hurtling towards the training dummy, the weighted doll bursting apart upon impact.

The frustration in your eyes dissipated as you watched the debris hit the floor, with Altare doing much the same as he slowed his thrusts to a halt.

Silence settled into the room for a moment, up until you breathed in and exhaled with relief.

At last, you were finally done and finally free from this accursed exercise.

While you still had to deal with the needy ache between your thighs, you rejoiced at no longer having to put up with your leader’s shenanigans.

As you opened your lips to speak, you felt his arms squeeze around your waist as he began to laugh once more while he offered your cheeks a couple kisses. “Now that’s our healer!”

“Could’ve finished this a lot faster if it wasn’t for you–!” Whatever huffed retort you had to say in return was cut short as you were suddenly lifted up off from the ground, soon finding yourself hauled into his arms. “Leader–?”

His grinning lips found their way to yours, more soon following as he carried you over to one of the wooden tables within the training hall.

A trail of kisses soon made their way over to your ear as he then purred, “Did you think that was it? What you’ve shown to me is that there’s a lot to be desired with your stamina~”

While you greatly looked forward to seizing the pleasure of getting to give his knee a good whack with your staff afterwards, you sighed with content as you were laid across the table with him settling right between your thighs.

For as difficult as he made your days sometimes, it was so easy to love Altare.

#regis altare x reader #tempus x reader #reader insert #Fic #super freaknasty writing

[infamousmonkey-cat]

I have a very serious and important question and I need your help

Songs below

Backstreets

Endless juke joints and Valentino drag Where dancers scraped the tears up off the streets dressed down in rags Running into the darkness, some hurt bad, some really dying At night sometimes it seemed you could hear the whole damn city crying

Jungleland

And the kids 'round here look just like shadows Always quiet, holding hands From the churches to the jails Tonight all is silence in the world [...] Outside the street's on fire in a real death waltz Between what's flesh and what's fantasy And the poets down here don't write nothing at all They just stand back and let it all be

Darkness on the Edge of Town

Well, everybody's got a secret, son Something that they just can't face Some folks spend their whole lives trying to keep it They carry it with them every step that they take 'Til someday they just cut it loose Cut it loose or let it drag 'em down Where no one asks any questions or looks too long in your face In the darkness on the edge of town

#bruce springsteen #the boss #disco elysium #Youtube

[queenofcarrotflowers-s]

hello~ I am returning to tumblr, the place of my youth, after a good few years away. this feels like a homecoming in a weird way because tumblr had such a big impact on myself and my identity growing up, and honestly I haven't had a place I could explore my thoughts in the same way in awhile. but my dash has become quite dead while I was gone so I'm looking for new mutuals/people to follow.

(also, if we've been mutuals and you're still here and you see this, please feel free to say hey!)

so let me (re-)introduce myself—my name is mikayla or mik (she/they is cool), and I am 28 years old and a public librarian + union steward in my daily life. I'm bi and currently living with my sweet partner of three-and-a-half years. we have two cats that I deeply adore, named snickers and lorelei. snickers is a big, beautiful former cat beauty pageant runner-up and lorelei is a tiny gal who was rescued from the streets as a teen mom. caring for them gives me so much purpose in my life and I don't know where I'd be without them! anyways, let me pay the cat tax:

(left: lorelei, right: snickers—in a rare moment of peace and camaraderie!)

I deal with chronic fatigue and other issues from an autoimmune thyroid disorder (Hashimoto's) and was recently diagnosed with anxiety/persistent depression/ADHD, which I mention here not because I think anyone wanted my entire medical history but because I hope to write about my experiences and possibly connect with others living with chronic illness, mental health struggles, and/or neurodiversity, as well.

current interests under the cut! if you're into any of the same things, please feel free to reach out / follow! I'd love to meet some new moots/friends :~)

some of my current interests include: cross-stitch/embroidery, latch hook rug-making, creative reuse art, art journaling, cats, libraries, dollhouse miniatures, zumba fitness, union organizing, socialism/communism, thrifting and antique/vintage collecting, interior design and organization, cryptids, folk art, graphic novels, tattoos (I currently have 19), podcasts & audiobooks, dungeons & dragons, country line dancing (I went to one queer country dance party and am now obsessed lol)

video games: baldur's gate 3 (hyperfixating hard on this one rn), disco elysium, paradise killer, stardew valley, animal crossing: new horizons

tv shows: what we do in the shadows, beastars, sex education, yellowjackets, abbott elementary, stranger things, the boys, i think you should leave, the bear, cutthroat kitchen, good eats, tuca & bertie, bojack horseman, black mirror, toast of london, rupaul's drag race, the good place, schitt's creek

authors: grady hendrix, jeanette winterson, lisa hanawalt, michael deforge, lucy knisley, box brown, agustina bazterrica, patricia polacco, brian k. vaughan, sylvia plath, mary roach, caitlin doughty, patricia lockwood, haruki murakami

music: andrew bird, kate bush, yebba, weyes blood, bright eyes, lucy dacus, fleet foxes, remi wolf, fiona apple, hozier, benny sings, gus dapperton, orville peck, father john misty, dolly parton, loretta lynn, madison cunningham, mac miller, the decemberists, the magnetic fields, ABBA, cheekface, wild child, chappell roan, the chicks, villagers, fleece, the growlers, peach pit

podcasts: and that's why we drink, beach too sandy water too wet, ridiculous crime, dimension 20, behind the bastards, welcome to night vale, last podcast on the left, sounds like a cult

#intro post #introduction #anxiety #actually adhd #chronic illness #chronic fatigue #hypothyroidism #im tagging some of my interests ill probably post about the most im sorry i hope this isnt annoying #fiber arts #cross-stitch #baldur's gate 3 #creative reuse #disco elysium #dollhouse miniatures #libraries #librarian #acnh #bg3 #looking for moots #beastars #and thats why we drink

[sea-owl]

Spring's Rebirth Chapter 5

Penelope sat in the library as she watched King Colin and Lady Francesca gather scroll after scroll.

"What is all this for?" Penelope asked.

"If you are to be queen you must know the workings of your kingdom," King Colin said, half in jest. "Fran will help advise you until you get the hang of it."

Lady Francesca nodded. "After that we can start searching for your own right-hand advisor."

"I haven't agreed to be queen," Penelope reminded them.

"Yet," King Colin and Lady Francesca said together.

Penelope looked at the mountain of scrolls that was now taller than her. She has never honestly seen so many scrolls in one place, Lord Odysseus' archives being the exception. Well, it will give her something to do until she figures out how she's going to convince King Colin that he made a mistake.

Unrolling the first scroll Penelope began to read.

The job of the Underworld is to have a place for souls after their mortal bodies can no longer contain them. A system was set in place determining how a soul may spend the rest of their eternity based on how they lived their mortal life. 

If a soul is judged to be good or heroic they are sent to Elysium where they can rest in a blissful life. If the soul has committed crimes against man or gods, they are sent to the Fields of Punishment where justice may serve that was not given in their mortal life. If a soul is neither good or bad, if it was ordinary then to the Asphodel Meadows it went where it may rest until it is ready to reincarnate. 

Penelope blinked. "There's a meadow down here?"

-

Portia was exhausted. She has spent many nights looking for her third daughter. At first when Felicity told her that Penelope was not with Phillip Portia thought Penelope had just wandered too far. It was not the first time her curiosity had led to her sleeping overnight away from home. Portia could handle that. All she had to do was distract herself with her other daughters and hang a lamp outside the door incase Penelope wandered in at night. When Penelope did not come home after the second night is when Portia started her search.

She checked with Penelope's few friends. She rechecked with Phillip incase he saw her in the time passing. With Mary and Kate. With the wine god, Michael. With the demigods, Sophie and Gareth. Even Penelope's acquaintance, the recluse forge god, Simon. All of them had not seen her.

It was now the mandatory monthly meeting for the Court of Earth which Portia was taking to her full advantage of in her search for her daughter.

"Lord Odysseus," Portia said, approaching the god of history. "Have you seen my daughter? I know sometimes she likes to listen to the stories you pick up."

Lord Odysseus was a younger minor god. His physical appearance put him around King Benedict's age. Brown hair pulled back at the nape of his neck, and scruff on his face. He was a collector of past events and the stories they told.

"I'm sorry Lady Portia, but no I have not seen Lady Penelope since the Solstice Gathering," Lord Odysseus answered.

Portia sighed. It was the same answer she had gotten from all the others. She knows other immortals did not care to notice her daughter but do they truly think so little of her that no one would think it strange for her to be wandering around days away from home?

"Thank you Lord Odysseus," Portia bowed. "If you see her please let her know I am looking for her."

Lord Odysseus bowed back. "Of course Lady Portia."

Portia looked around, who else could she ask?

"Have you still heard nothing about Penelope?"

Portia turned to see Phillip. "Phillip, I'm surprised to see you here, usually they have drag you to these."

"I was hoping to hear something about Penelope as well," Phillip said. "Have you spoken to King Benedict or Lady Eloise yet?"

Portia snorted. "We both know the Bridgertons don't pay enough attention to know anything."

"It doesn't hurt to try," Phillip urged.

No it doesn't Portia agreed. She was running out of options either way. No one she's spoken to has seen Penelope and Portia can't leave until this forsaken meeting was over with. Might as well make sure she checks every box she can.

Portia bowed to King Benedict and Lady Eloise when she reached the throne. "My king, Lady Eloise."

"Lady Portia." King Benedict nodded. "Is there anything you need? Are the crops not doing well?"

"No my king," Portia said. "I actually wish to ask you if you have knowledge on the whereabouts of my daughter Lady Penelope. She has not been home in many nights."

At first King Benedict said nothing, as if he thinking over his answer. Portia finds herself leaning closer. Does he have some information? Is she close to finding her daughter?

Finally King Benedict shook his head. "I'm sorry Lady Portia but I have not seen Lady Penelope since the Solstice Gathering."

Portia wanted to scream. How has no one in this blasted court have any knowledge where her daughter could be? Is her search too narrow? Portia could find no reason why Penelope would travel to the Court of Heaven or the Court of the Underworld. Despite her curiosity, Penelope has always stayed within the Court of Earth.

"Th-thank you your highness," Portia, her voice cracking.

Court was officially called to order, and Portia took her seat next to Phillip. Taking deep breathes she missed the way Phillip's eyes narrowed on Lady Eloise.

Phillip watched Lady Eloise the whole time court was in session. The goddess of the hunt and knowledge was a known talker, but her lips had not once moved since Portia asked about Penelope. Add in when they were asked King Benedict's brown eyes remained calm while there was a flash of something in Lady Eloise's gray eyes.

She knows something, Phillip was sure of it. He was tempted to tell Lady Portia, but the poor mother was stressed enough without false hope. No best if Phillip figured out what she knew first.

-

With the death of King Edmund and his domains being split among his three older sons the Underworld could no longer support any form of mortal life . . .

Penelope rubbed her temples; her eyes had started to blur out the words between support and life. The potion, while very affective and long lasting, was wearing off. Her head pounded with her headache coming back with vengeance. She really needed to get a hold of some feverfew.

"Are you alright?" King Colin asked her.

"Lady Francesca's potion is wearing off," Penelope answered. She put her head down and covered her eyed with her arms to block the limited light. "I need to get a hold of some feverfew and ginger."

Lady Francesca tapped her chin. "We shall ask Lord Phillip to bring some next time he brings a new batch of souls. In the meantime, I believe Uncle Nicholas has said that salmon is good headaches. We could have some smoked for dinner. I can also work on making another batch of potions."

King Colin nodded. "Sounds perfect. I'll have Dunwoody tell Cook."

Penelope peaked up at them, her eyes narrowed and one eyebrow raised. She couldn't eat that. One should never eat food from another court unless they planned to stay there permanently.

King Colin noticed Penelope's glare. "Relax Pen. I meant what I said when I promised you that the crown would not be placed on your head until you asked. The salmon we have is imported, all our food and drink are."

Penelope placed her head back down. Imported salmon. Imported was good. Imported food went under many spells shipping out and in to be able to be eaten by other courts. Her mother blanketed those spells onto her fields dedicated to trade. She can work with imported salmon until Phillip came down with new souls and she could ask him for-

Wait a minute. . .

Penelope peaked her head back up. "Why is Phillip bringing souls down to the Underworld?"

#spring's rebirth #hades and persephone au #polin #bridgerton #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #francesca bridgerton #portia featherington #phillip crane

[wjbs-aus]

Since this is having a resurgence kinda,

Reblog for a larger sample-size or something? Or not. Your call!

Context for each below.

Back in, like, 2016 or something, the Secondary School I was at did lifeguard training as part of its PE curriculum; one of the activities involved was rescuing a hollow plastic dummy. When it was my turn, I grabbed it, but it suddenly filled with water, and I was suddenly dragged to the bottom of the pool; eventually I managed to let go of it, and I was allowed to sit on one of the benches next to the pool for the rest of the session.

Last year, around Halloween, my dad randomly phoned me up and asked if I wanted him to buy me an axe or scythe from the Halloween section of Tesco. I said I wanted a scythe, and he bought it; it was very plain, and consisted of a hollow plastic tube and a simple-looking, poorly-moulded blade that slid over the top. It eventually got pretty badly-damaged, and my brother - in a fit of sleep-deprived impulsiveness - secretly bought me a cooler, much higher-quality one (the blade is actually a skull wearing a mask with a long "beak" attached to it!)

Technically, I don't have all the Skylanders figures I got when I played, since at least one is still at the flat I used to live in, but otherwise I have all of them. Also I only had Giants, Swap Force and Trap Team; I missed out on playing Spyro's Adventure, and I only had a Wii at the time so I couldn't play most of the games after it (except for Superchargers Racing, which is literally just the racing minigame from the fifth game but released on its own).

Play Hard Reset. Do it do it now. It's short, kinda frustrating at times and has questionable writing and voice-acting, but the aesthetic is really cool and it has an interesting mechanic where the player only has two weapons, but can unlock different modes for them that effectively mean the player has ten. I haven't played much of Hard Reset Redux, but it seems to be the same, but balanced a bit better and with much better dialogue.

I got into ZScript late last year, but I've got pretty good at both the inheritence system and making original stuff (which is technically jus the same as using inheritence, but you have to define everything yourself.

I can't remember exactly when this happened, but it was around either Halloween or Christmas (since Nightmare Before Christmas was on TV) and possibly in 2018; I made myself a cup of tea, but didn't notice that the kettle had limescale remover put into it (aside from the colour being a bit off). When I started drinking it, I immediately spat it out, and since then it's been known in my family as A Thing I Did Once™.

I love Sea Power! They make good music! Check out Let The Dancers Inherit The Party, it is their best album in my opinion!

Yep, done this one. Haven't finished Quake 1's second expansion and I'm only on, like, map 2 of Quake II, but I've played all of Quake IV's story campaign. Also, if it counts, Quake III's "singleplayer campaign", which is just a series of increasingly-difficult bot matches.

When I got Reaper one of the first things I recorded was a scream, which coincidentally ended up being a scarily-good impression of the headless bombers from Serious Sam.

A while ago, I tried playing the Game Boy Advance version of Bionicle Heroes with an emulator, since I wanted to check it out; when I tried playing it with VBA, it crashed on the second screen, and while another emulator (namely No$GBA) allowed to, I had to make a DS4 controller-profile specifically for use with it, since it wasn't registering my inputs properly with my regular one. Eventually I just bought a Bionicle Heroes GBA cartridge online so I could play using my DS Lite.

Anyway here's the new scythe.

This picture physically hurt to take, like I had to lean really far back and stretch my arm really far out

#poll #polls #oddly specific poll