#lorde my token white girl

[kowaiitenshii]

[Sunkiller Lullaby]

Pairing: Darth Vader x Reader 

Plot Summary: A slave girl given to The Empire as a token of loyalty, known as the Flower of Beauty on your long since destroyed homeplanet, you’re nearly sent back to be executed before Darth Vader deems you worthy of saving. What will happen as you form a new life as the personal servant to a Sith Lord? 

Warnings: Canon-level violence. Murder. Mentions of death. Corruption. Canon-divergent. Unburnt!Vader. Reader is a former slave. Vader is his own warning. Descriptions of mistreatment. AFAB reader, feminine pronouns & descriptions used. 18+ content to come in later chapters.

Words: 4.1k

A/N: Here it is! My first time writing anything Star Wars related, but most certainly not the last :) I’ve thought about this for a long time, but some things may still seem OOC so I’m sorry for that! Otherwise, please enjoy!

(p.s. I highly recommend you give a listen to the song that gave this fic its title, Sun Killer by Spiritbox!)

Part I:

The trembling sound of chains dragging across slick tiled flooring wakes you as two Stormtroopers led by an Imperial Commander haul you carelessly through the corridors of what you assume to be an Imperial ship. 

The air is cold on your bare skin, and the harsh grip of the Stormtroopers on your arms feels enough to be bruising. 

Blinking blearily through the shroud of unconsciousness, there is a palpable darkness hanging in the very air around you, as if it had been waiting for you, billowing over you and filling your lungs like smoke. 

The Stormtroopers drag your limp body into a huge open room in the core of the ship with high rounded ceilings and walls, all white, controls blinking throughout the room in greens and reds. 

 You don’t even have time to take in your surroundings and think before the Commander and Troopers stop abruptly, the Commander taking a step to the left side, revealing what they’ve brought you here for. 

That’s when you finally see the presence that you’ve sensed since you awoke. 

The imminent Sith Lord Darth Vader stands before the lot of you, his aura pulsing and filling the room, making the very air thick. His helmet has an appropriately severe expression to it and his cape billows around him as he turns. 

The commander and troopers stand straight as pins, their nerves radiating off of them.  You feel as if you could be sick.

“What is the meaning of this, Commander?” the Sith Lord demands, his booming voice breaking through the oppressive silence. 

Despite your intense fear of the outcome, you stand straight within the confines of the grip the troopers have on you. You hold your head high, despite the icy dread that washes over you in waves. Your years as a slave had taught you well, and you dared not show fear in the face of those who would subdue you. 

The Commander swallows, putting on his best little soldier facade as he speaks before his master. 

“A gift from the Hutts, Lord Vader.” the man speaks with enthusiastic trepidation. “They wish to show their loyalty to the Empire. They called her ‘The Flower’ of her home planet, for her beauty.” he babbles as he informs his master.

You subtly roll your eyes at the way the Commander sounds exactly like a used parts salesman. 

Darth Vader stares at you for a prolonged moment, and you hate the way that you cannot tell where he’s looking. You stare back at him despite the sinking in your stomach, refusing to look away, to submit. 

The rule of those in power was that of animals, those who submit die. 

You knew that well. 

“Send her back.” The Sith Lord commands plainly, and your heart drops. 

Your ears ring as you hear the commander stumbling. 

“S-Sir, I’m afraid we can’t simply ‘send her back’, she was a gift, and she-she, um.” he pauses to take in a shaky breath. “Her planet was destroyed long ago my Lord, if we send her back, she will be dishonoured and they’ll just kill-”

You jump slightly as the commander is suddenly cut off, literally choking on his words. Vader clenches his fist in front of him tightly as he chokes the man using an unseen force. 

“Then perhaps you should have considered this sooner, Commander.” Vader spits.

The commander is rooted in his spot, turning purple and clawing at his throat. 

Vader looks again to you, glued to the spot, pale as a ghost and trembling, and you can feel him creeping through the very life force within your body, tickling under your skin and flowing through your blood stream. 

“Take her away.” The Sith Lord commands the troopers with a flick of his wrist. 

The troopers drag you away, the sickening sound of the commander’s neck snapping echoing behind you as a tear slides down your cheek. 

However, to your surprise, the troopers don’t lead you to a ship, or a pod, or containment. Instead, they unceremoniously dump you into a large and lavishly furnished Imperial suite, the door sliding shut behind them. 

You spend a moment there on the carpet, wiping your tears and trying to calm your fear of the uncertainty before really taking a moment to look at your surroundings. 

Still sniffling, you pull yourself together and get to your feet. You’re in a large room, darkly-coloured with ambient lighting throughout. The magnificent bed with silken, plush sheets of crimson is the centrepiece of the room. 

To the right side of the bed there is a large window in the room, spanning the length of nearly the entire wall adorned with tasselled curtains.

Adjacent to the front of the bed is an entrance to a large washroom, equipped with both a soaking tub and a walk-in glass shower. 

You’re shocked as you marvel at the luxuries at your disposal, revelling in the abundance of the suite. It’s like nowhere you’ve ever had the chance to inhabit before. 

You waste no time in taking a lengthy bath, filling the tub with the salts and oils provided. The hot water does you well, soothing your aching muscles and your anxious soul. You can’t even remember how long it had been since you soaked, often being doused by cold water by your captors or simply being forced to bathe in streams. 

You shudder at the memories. 

You then dress yourself in the thick robes provided in your closet, and bask in the newfound comfort. 

Nobody bothers you for the remainder of the evening, left with nothing but your thoughts and the passing stars beyond the window. You solemnly ponder your fate, curious of Lord Vader’s intentions. 

You knew very well that he easily could have disposed of you the moment he laid eyes on you, which leaves you with a horrifying question. 

Why keep you? 

If he was keeping you, that is. You knew your life was not entirely guaranteed, but then why would Vader waste his time in keeping you for a night? 

This is what scares you. 

Never finding an answer that satisfies you, you lay in the satin sheets with the unnerving feeling that somebody is watching, creeping just out of the edges of your mind; close enough to feel them, too far to see. 

In the meantime, Darth Vader sits in contemplation in the privacy of his chambers. Taking you in is undoubtedly an inconvenience, and he would have to think long and hard to find an explanation worthy of the Emperor.

However, for reasons he did not fully understand… he could not deny you. He had no doubt of your status as the Flower, the beauty of your homeworld, that was evident. What intrigued him however, was your signature in the force. He could feel your presence so acutely, piercing through him like the ringing of bells. 

He had no doubt you were sensitive to it. 

If this were to be true, you could indeed be quite useful to both he and the Emperor, given the implication that he could break you to the dark side. 

He could feel your resentment, your anger, your lust for power; no doubt instilled in you by your years spent in torment. 

So it was decided. 

He would accept you, house you, mold you. And then he would break you.

Turning away from his window with purpose, he leaves to find a Commander to send a message. 

As you drift into sleep, you feel the dark presence again, tickling at the corners of your mind, creeping at the corners and crawling on the ceilings. 

You try your best to shove it away, but it’s stronger, more steadfast than you are. 

Unable to push the dark presence away, you relent, pulling your blankets tighter around yourself and trying to ignore the uneasiness. 

Eventually, you fall into fitful sleep, your mind full of dreams. For the most part they are very average dreams. Dreams of living an ordinary life, doing ordinary things. That is, except for the fleeting shadow that looms over your shoulders, or the piercing eyes you catch glimpses of in the darkness. 

The next morning you’re left to sleep as long as you please, waking up on your own agenda for the first time in countless years. Dragging yourself out of bed, your body still tired from dreaming the entire night through, you rise and dress yourself in darkly-coloured robes and underdresses. As you brush out your hair, anxiety begins seeping back in. You still had no clue as to why you were kept alive, or if your life was even safe to begin with. No idea what would be done with you, and no way of escape. 

After you’ve finished grooming, you’re greeted by a friendly droid sent to bring you breakfast. You eat well, offered a spread of toasted breads, honeyed butters, jams, and all manners of fruits and meat. 

The droid speaks up once you’ve finished, chirping news at you. 

“Lord Vader has requested your presence once you’re adequately satisfied, madam.” it announces cheerfully. 

Your stomach drops at the thought, moving from comfortably satisfied to anxiously nauseous in a matter of moments. 

Swallowing thickly, you part your lips to question the droid. 

“Did…Did he mention why?” you curse yourself for faltering. 

“No ma’am.” the droid answers to your dismay. “Lord Vader is exceedingly private in his affairs. I am afraid I am merely a messenger.” 

Feeling yourself go pale, you nod slowly in response. 

“I shall meet with him as soon as possible.” You concede, your voice barely higher than a whisper. 

The droid throws its hands up joyfully, exclaiming its reply. 

“Splendid! Lord Vader would like you to meet him in his private quarters, I shall inform him of your arrival!” The droid declares before abruptly leaving the suite. 

Left with your thoughts, your mind wanders in circles. You wonder about the Sith Lord’s intentions, about what he will do with you. About if the treatment you’ve been receiving was just a penance paid for your impending death. You wonder about your fate, if this was meant to be your last meal. 

For a short while you’re sick with worry. That is, until you remember your years spent under slavery. Those years in which you would have begged for the release of death; Those years in which you made peace with the quiet solace of oblivion. 

It is when you remind yourself of this truth that you finally gather yourself from the table.

This is an opportunity, you tell yourself, and you dare not waste it. 

After a short while, the droid returns to fetch you. As you traverse the sleek hallways with the silent droid, your ice cold nerves sink in. Your stomach twists in knots, becoming nauseous once again on your luxuriant breakfast. 

The droid's artificial voice cuts sharply through the tense silence. 

“I notice you’ve become pale, and your heart rate is increasing. These are common symptoms of anxiety.” the droid states in a cheerful tone. You chuckle slightly at the droid’s matter-of-factness. 

“Yes,” you laugh. “I must be honest, I am a little nervous to meet with Lord Vader.” you give the droid the understatement of the century, and saying it outloud only makes the knot in your gut tie tighter. 

“Not to worry!” the droid chirps “If Lord Vader meant to kill you, he would not go to the trouble of speaking with you first!” the droid attempts to reassure you. It does little to make you feel any better, your blood running cold from the words. 

You spend the rest of the walk in silence, steeling your nerves. The droid stops abruptly at a large doorway, entering a combination into the keypad on the wall and stepping to the side as the door slides open. 

“Here we are!” the droid chimes. “Lord Vader awaits you.”

The droid bows to you, and you nod your thanks to it before stepping into the doorway, the door sliding shut behind you. 

Before you even  step out of the entryway, you can hear the unnerving sound of the Sith Lord’s mechanical breathing just beyond, sending chills down your spine. 

The room is large and open, covered in control panels and other strange technology save for the wall length window. You take a deep breath as you spot Vader by the expansive window, his back turned to you. The sight of him alone, broad back turned to you, dressed in his  all-black suit and floor-length cape instils terror in you. 

Here you were, alone in a room with the most powerful and most dangerous man in the whole galaxy. 

Despite yourself and the urge to run screaming within, you pull it together and begin your approach. Holding your head high, you come to stand at the window next to the Sith Lord. 

“Lord Vader,” you begin calmly before bowing “You sent for me?” you ask, hands shaking. 

Finally, he turns to his left to regard you. The lights of the stars and the Imperial fleet beyond the window reflect off of his permanently scowling helmet, the unmoving coldness of its expression doing nothing to calm your nerves. The only thing that grounds you in this moment is the sound of the slow, deep breaths he takes. 

“Yes.” Lord Vader affirms sternly. “I’d like to make you an offer.” 

He catches you off guard with this, and you falter in reply. 

“A-An offer?” you curse yourself again for stuttering, praying to the maker and straightening up as he turns fully to face you. 

It’s only then that you notice how tall he truly is, having to crane your neck to look him in the face as he looms over you, heat rising to your cheeks purely from nerves. 

“Yes,” he states plainly. “I would like you to become my sole personal servant.”

His words fall upon you with the weight of a thousand stones, your knees beginning to shake from the implication alone, threatening to crumble beneath the weight. 

Never in a million years would you have believed what the Sith Lord just suggested, and yet there he was suggesting it. 

At the same time, a flame begins to spark in your chest, ignited by hope. Your years as a slave taught you better than to refuse a good offer when you got one.

“As you wish, My Lord.” you accept loud and clear, bowing your head to him in respect, and gratitude. The part of you that is fully entrenched in servitude and the woes of it can’t help but become a bit excited at the promise of security as his personal attendant, while the side of you that remembers freedom feels a measure of guilt for relenting so quickly. 

Still, your life was more important than the guilt you felt for agreeing to serve him. Anyone in your shoes would do the same, you were sure of it. 

He hums in satisfaction at your response, nodding.

“Very well then. Starting tomorrow, you will serve me, and me alone.” he commands firmly. You only nod, looking up at him and listening attentively as he continues. 

“You are to be at my disposal at all hours, save for when I command you to leave.” He states. While the idea pierces you with dread, you nod your compliance all the same. 

“You will come when I call, whenever I call.” He iterates, a drop of venom in his tone. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.” you affirm as calmly as you can. 

“In return, no expense will be spared in caring for your needs.” he replies. 

You can’t help the warmth that grows within you at the idea. In all your years of servitude, never had anyone given a single thought toward your treatment. Feeling overwhelmed, your breath catches in your throat.

 It feels too good to be true.

 Here you were, thinking the droid was delivering you to your demise, when really you were receiving an opportunity countless others would kill to have. The opportunity for long lost comfort, the opportunity for power. 

You say nothing in response, smirking and nodding like a simpleton. As he notices your enthusiasm, Lord Vader’s tone turns harsh. 

“But do not forget, girl,” he hisses. “I own you.” 

Feeling yourself go pale, you swallow thickly, looking away as a wave of dread and shame washes over you. 

“If you betray the faith I am putting in you, if you disobey The Empire…” he emphasises darkly, before pausing. Although you’re unable to read his expression, you’re sure he’s staring straight through you. His gaze burns you like fire, and you can feel fear gripping your heart. 

“I will not hesitate in cutting you down.” he growls, and you can sense his stone-cold sincerity. You’re frozen with fear, feeling absolutely foolish for being remotely celebratory, even if only internally.

Blood running cold, shivers down your spine, you default to what you learned in your time as a slave. 

Without thinking, acting completely on something akin to muscle memory, you drop to your knees. Steadying yourself with your hands, you press your forehead to the toe of Lord Vader’s boot. 

For slaves, this is an ultimate display of respect and compliance to their masters. 

“Yes, Lord Vader.” you affirm, strong and clear. Vader seems slightly taken aback, stepping back and leaving your forehead to hit the cold tile flooring. Your cheeks go hot as you rise, hoping he understood the gesture as you stand sheepishly before him. 

“Very well.” he speaks again after you stand. “Starting tomorrow, you will act as my personal attendant. You may go. Rest.” He commands, turning away from you once more, his attention going back to the galaxy outside the expansive window. 

Overwhelmed and in a daze, you turn to leave in what feels like slow motion.

 The trip from Vader’s personal quarters back to your suite passes you by in technicolor. Bidding you a polite goodbye, the droid leaves you to your privacy. 

Shell-shocked tears slide silently down your cheeks as you plop onto the bed. The gamble of putting your life in Vader’s hands did not seem like a winning one, but you had no choice. The feeling is gut-wrenching, and tears flow freely now. 

You just felt so god-damned confused, it was making you sick. The last 24 hours hardly seemed real at all. It was useless to wonder ‘why me’ because you knew the answer would not come, but that didn’t stop it from running through your mind on repeat. You once again mourn the life you lived as a free person, the old wounds bleeding once again. 

Your life was not extravagant by any means, living as a local farm hand, but it was simple. It was simple, and it was easy, and it was peaceful. 

On your home planet, you were known by the locals and travellers as the ‘Flower’ of your city for your beauty, kindness, and good grace. These traits along with the rumours about them were the sole reason you had not been on-planet when it was destroyed. 

While your home was under siege, you were stolen and trafficked into slavery for your proposed “worth” to slave traders. 

The years after that, you lived as a ghost in a life that was not yours. 

And now here you were, selling your soul. A better person, a stronger person, would have chosen death over serving the Empire. 

But years of torture had twisted your spirit, broken you. No longer were you that kind and graceful girl from the village everyone had known and loved. Years of torment molded you into something fearful, something hurt and covetous. And you hated yourself for it, though you had no power to change it. The part of you that now craved power, craved vengeance on those who had destroyed you is unchangeable. 

Many years you had spent yearning to torment those who had stolen you, who had taken everything from you. Many nights had you spent dreaming of all the ways you would destroy them given the chance. 

And now here it was, a chance dropped into your very lap. The chance to get close to the face of the Empire. Not only that, but Lord Vader himself guaranteed your safety. There were not many more of those who would be as trustworthy in that guarantee. After all, he was the strongest man in the galaxy. 

Sniffling, you begin to wipe your tears. You had already agreed with Darth Vader, there was no point in tears now anyway. 

If you were to do this, and you were, you were going to do it well. 

Rising from your place on the bed, you finish wiping your tears and begin preparing for the days ahead of you. 

That night is again filled with dreams. 

You find yourself on a lush windswept hillside bordering the sea, the air fresh and salty as it blows through your hair and across your face. Blissfully you stroll along the cliffside, breathing in the fresh air. As you walk, you begin to see a cloaked figure in the distance. 

Really, you sense him before you see him. His energy mirrors that of the sea below, mesmerising, tumultuous, and full of depth. You’re drawn to him, slowly making your way to the place at the edge of the cliff where he stands. 

The sunset melting in hues of pink and orange highlights his figure against the horizon, and when you reach him he turns to face you. 

You’re struck by his beauty, as if he had stepped out of a painting from the old Republic. His jawline is strong, his lips are plump, and he has a heavy brow with sandy coloured curls of shoulder-length hair framing his features. Yet the most striking thing about him is his eyes. They are the very same piercing, fiery eyes that had haunted you the night prior, framed by long cherubic lashes. 

But in this moment, you felt no fear. In fact, you were serenely calm, sensing no malice or ill-intent of the man before you. He too, was very tall as you stood in front of him, having to look up to look him in the eye. 

You both stand there for a long moment, looking at each other, taking each other in and feeling each other’s energies. You can see the compassion and empathy he has for you in his eyes as well as sense it radiating warmly off of him, as if he knows your life, as if he had lived it too. 

All this, and you had never seen him before in your life. And yet somehow, it felt completely normal. As if you had known him forever, and you were just now remembering. 

After a long while he opens his arm to you, beckoning you to join him. You follow without a second thought, coming to his left side and allowing him to drape his arm over you and pull you close as you both watch the sunset. His cloak drapes over your shoulders as he holds you, warmth falling comfortably over you with it. He smells deeply of leather, of musk and of burnt wood, and you breathe him in deeply. He gazes at the sea as you rest your head on his chest, in ecstasy purely from the simple act of human contact. It has been years since you’ve experienced the simple pleasures of being close to someone, and you savour every single moment. The tips of his fingers ghost over your left arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His arm comes up and he idly brushes his fingers through the soft locks of your hair as you listen to the steady thump of his heartbeat. 

Being held by him felt like home. 

As you both watch the cerulean waves crashing against the shore below, he presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head and your eyes flutter shut. 

Credz:

Lightsaber graphic credit: @saradika

#darth vader x reader #darth vader x f!reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x f!reader #darth vader x you #darth vader x y/n #star wars imagine #star wars x reader #darth vader imagine #darth vader x female reader #my writing #sunkiller lullaby

[retirement-home-rumble]

Your Elderly Representatives:

Gravity Falls - Stanley and Stanford Pines

Avatar: The Last Airbender - Uncle Iroh

Muppets - Statler and Waldorf

Lord of the Rings - Gandalf

Dream SMP - Philza Minecraft and Technoblade

Discworld - Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg

Ace Attorney - Wendy Oldbag

Doctor Who - Wilfred Mott

The Magnus Archives - Gertrude Robinson

Batman - Alfred Pennyworth

Star Wars - Yoda

Critical Role - Chetney Pock O'Pea

Up - Carl and Ellie Fredrickson

The Owl House - Principal Hieronymus Bump

Just Roll With It - Old Man Earl

Splatoon - Captain Craig Cuttlefish and DJ Octavio

Half Life VR but the AI is Self Aware - Dr Harold Coomer and Bubby

Jojo's Bizzare Adventure - Joseph Joestar

Transformers - Ratchet

Cats - Old Deuteronomy

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - Splinter

DuckTales - Scrooge McDuck

Ninjago - Sensei Wu

Undertale - Gerson

Amphibia - Hop Pop

Golden Kamuy - Hijikata Toshizou

The Good Place - Michael

Back to the Future - Doc Brown

X-Men - Magneto and Professor X

Zero Escape - Tenmyouji

Genshin Impact - Zhongli

Five Nights at Freddy's - William Afton

Welcome to Night Vale - The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home

Homestuck - Nanna Jane Egbert

Kingdom Hearts - Master Xehanort

The Adventure Zone - Merle Highchurch

RWBY - Maria Calavera

Hermitcraft - TinFoilChef

Full Metal Alchemist - Pinako Rockbell

Miss Marple - Miss Marple

Skullgirls - Black Dahlia

Yu Yu Hakusho - Genkai

Umbrella Academy - Five Hargreeves

Golden Girls - the Golden Girls

Breaking Bad - Mike Erhmantraut

Dimension 20 - Bishop Raphaniel Charlock

Final Fantasy - Emet-Selch

Warrior Cats - Yellowfang

One Piece - Dr Kureha

My Little Pony - Granny Smith

Spongebob Squarepants - Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy

Stardew Valley - Grandpa

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power - Madame Razz

Bloodborne - Gehrman the First Hunter

Courage the Cowardly Dog - Muriel Bagge

Dragon Ball - Master Roshi

The Emperor's New Groove - Yzma

Mulan - Grandmother Fa

Death Note - Watari

Kung Fu Panda - Master Oogway

Christmas - Santa Claus

Plainview Discord Server - Funky Old

Token Tumblr Real Person - @theangstking 's cat, Lilly

Real Life Old Person - Betty White

EDIT: Results from all preliminaries have been updated

#retirement home rumble

[vivalski]

People wondering about Drunk Steve and honestly I think Steve’s such a Mom™️ and, also;

“A cosmopolitan? Really dingus?”

Steve, sips his cosmo, dressed to the nines because when he goes out drinking and actually wants to drink he’s got to gussy up because that’s what happens when you are, as the Reba theme song goes; 🎵 A single mom who works too hard, who loves her kids and never stops 🎶 so any occasion to go out that doesn’t involve snacks and token money must not be taken for granted.

“You guys laugh it up and drink your swill.”

“Man, you look like a waspy mom or like a Sex and The City mom, you know, trying to figure out which character you are. Cosmos are for old ladies.”

“Yeah man you’re a Charlotte. Charlotte’s not even the cool one!” Robin says, surprisingly.

Nancy tilts her head.

“It’s weird that you can accurately categorize Steve as Charlotte. Didn’t know you were a fan.”

“Oh is that the tight assed yuppie one? Cuz it fits!” Eddie and Robin stare at Steve and laugh.

Nancy giggles.

“One,” Steve puts down his fancy glass and glares at the three. “I am proudly a Charlotte. She’s a solid somewhat neurotic character who knows what she wants and goes for it despite the romantic foibles. She got Harry. We should all be so lucky to have Harry. And two,” he points at them, listing their drinking faults on by one.

“You,” Points to Robin with a sneer. “Drink shit vodka out of the plastic bottle, two chugs and your so drunk you scream profanities in the night and keep trying to get us to dare you to kiss Nancy.”

Robin blushes, puts down her glass of clear vodka.

“Yeah,” Nancy looks at Robin confusedly. “Whats up with that?”

“You!” Points to Nancy, she jumps. “Actually like Goldschlager and commit crimes like a feral mongoose and lord forbid you stop at that felony because, no, you’re constant mooning and flashing people of authority. Hopper still can’t look you in the eye after the sheriff’s station incident.”

Nancy blushes, glares and pushes her tall glass to the side. It glimmers in the light.

Eddie giggles, actually giggles at her.

“I still can’t believe you photocopied your ass and left a stack in a folder on his desk.”

“She labeled them important.” Robin grins. “And stole all the illicit evidence.”

“So. Much. Weed.” Eddie grins.

“And handcuffs!”

Steve takes another sip, and then pokes Eddie hard in the chest.

“And. You.”

“And…me?” Eddie points to himself.

“You hit on me constantly, Eddie.”

“I really do.” Agrees, unashamed.

“You try to take off your clothes.”

“I get hot when I’m drunk.” Shrugs.

“You ordered $500 worth of pizza and wings to be delivered to Carver‘s house. With his parents credit card information which you somehow have.”

“Totally guilty.” Nods.

“And that’s not counting the time before that, when you got drunk and you paid two lesbian hookers to show up at his house to perform on each other in front of his mother’s dinner party. And they were paid to also say that Jason was the one who paid them and scheduled this private showing!”

“You know he’s in an all boys Catholic school because of me, right?” Says proudly.

“And the worst part about all of this, because I could excuse it all if you were drinking some sort of crazy hard obscure liquor but it’s not even that. You get White Claw drunk like some white sorority girl on spring break. What the hell is that?”

“…”

Nancy and Robin sip there drinks at the awkward silence.

“I’m not apologizing.”

Turns out Steve is a judgmental drunk. Or buzzed.

Just a bunch of silly goofballs, I adore them.

Thank you so much for this, you made my day ;o;

#I need to continue the drunk series damn #I wish I understood the Sex and the city refs tho #never watched it #fruity four #steddie #ronance

[achillesnotfound404]

Hazbin Hotel human college au cuz I’m sleep deprived and insane

Listen I may be a college dropout but this au came to me in a dream so now I gotta or else I’ll explode this is gonna be a part one fs

I want to keep the Idea of Charlie helping the crew so instead of her rehabilitating sinners here the gang minus of course, Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor, are a group of students who are on academic probation, they meet Charlie through various ways and Charlie invites them to join her study group to help them save their GPA’s. Though they dont really get much studying

Charlotte “Charlie” Morningstar (she/they)

- Dual hospitality and psychology major with a minor in hospitality

-18 years old, Freshman

- Kind of a rich nepo baby, her dad is like an alumni and a huge donor to the university

- She does try hard, though! She’s such an over achiever it’s insane

- She’s the kind of girl who makes a Google doc of all the notes she’s taken and shares them with anyone and everyone

- She lives on campus in a dorm with Vaggie. Her dad tried to convince her to let him rent her an apartment, but she refused

- Autistic

-after graduating she wants to open a mental health/ rehab center

Honestly, basically the same as in canon

-token white girl of the group

Vagatha “Vaggie” Perez (she/her)

- Criminal justice major

-18 years old freshman

- Comes from a military family(very beneficial when filling out the FAFSA🙏🏽)

-works at one of the school book stores

- Used to do martial arts a lot as a kid and in high school, when she got to college her practices got less frequent but she still does it from time to time

- Very encouraging of Charlies study group even if everyone there annoys her

-very organized and has fantastic study habits

-constantly arguing with Angel because good lord they live to piss her off

Anthony “Angel” Ragno (they/he)

- Undeclared major

-19 years old sophomore

-Honestly, only went to college due to encouragement from Molly and threats from his father to cut him off if he didn’t

-his dad bankrolls his life(with very heavy strings attached) so they don’t need to work but he does do online sex work, ie OF/something similar

-- Lives off campus in an apartment his father owns with Cherri

- ADHD, Autism,BPD

-joined the study group first purly because he knew his dad would cut him off (and kill him) if he was kicked out of school

-“My class starts at 12 and it’s 11 now, by the time I get to campus it’ll be 11:15 which is basically 11:20 which is almost 11:30 which is basically 12 so I’m just not going”

-had a stint in rehab before starting college, did not stay clean very long

-had an extremely toxic and complicated on relationship with Val, Angel finally broke it off but is honestly still reeling From it

-token white boy of the group

Alastor Benoit (he/him)

- Radio Broadcasting Major

-24 year old senior

-runs a school radio show

- Very much a “I was born in the wrong generation 💔💔” kind of guy

- Total mama’s boy, doesn’t speak to his father and has not since he was a junior in high school

- Fluent in French and still regularly speaks it

- Originally wanted to go culinary school but opted against it, still cooks on the daily

- No one knows where he lives, no one has seen him leave a dorm or apartment, no one has even seen him walk to class he just kinda shows up,,,

- Very well dressed constantly, he has never been spotted wearing a t-shirt

-he is a very good student, he agrees to help with Charlie’s group cuz he was bored and thinks its funny to watch people try and still fail

-aroace and completely sex repulsed but is in a queer platonic relationship with Rosie

Husker Adler (he/him)

-Business major

-23 years old junior

- Works as a bartender at one of the local restaurants near campus

- Has weird history with alastor, he won’t elaborate what that history is, and no one asks

- Mostly kept to himself until Alastor dragged him along to one of Charlie’s groups and now he is stuck with them until he dies

-he didnt want to go to college, but his family runs a casino/hotel and he intends to go back to help run it so he figured going to school to learn more about business would be good,even if he thinks all his self taught skills are much better.

-lives on campus

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #charlie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel husk #vaggie hazbin hotel #Hazbin hotel college au

[bengiyo]

Laws of Attraction Ep 4 Stray Thoughts

Last week, ARSON. DROWNING. Charn set fire to Tinn's house while his grandmother and he were still inside just to frame Thantai, and then thought everything was okay because of a pizza party like an American elementary school teacher! Meanwhile, Thantai got choked out and almost drowned by his dad because he let himself get recorded by a teddy bear that has become the most important plot token.

Unrealistic. You cannot put girls in the same room after a fight. I worked with middle schoolers.

Look at this young paladin in the making.

Damn, Tinn. Protect your face.

Of course you knew these mofos had guns. How did he think this was going to go?

Ooh, a new wrinkle from the handler.

The sister is acting her ass off with the eyes in this scene as Chan reverts to radical honesty.

Tinn's grandmother reminds me of my own.

Absolutely everyone is chewing on the scenery in this show. I love it.

That glint is back in Chan's eye. What does he have planned next.

This evil man forced this case into his gardener? That's fucked.

Chan is gonna fuck the bodyguard, I just know it.

Not Chan wearing white pants.

Oh lord he replaced that ugly ass shirt.

Chan said, "Potion seller! Enough of these games!"

I bet it was Chan's dude who betrayed them. I bet it was for unrequited gay reasons.

Not Chan in wrinkled white pants, a shirt with its own big ass tie that looks like a sloppy bunny ears knot, and a black jacket. What in the hell.

Oh shit Thantai hit that floor hard.

Also, Thantai's pants are too tight.

Beer told on himself when he got excited about those potential clips.

Beer and Ice? Gross.

I respect Beer's game.

I suppose they have to absolve Thantai of Ton Khaw's murder if they want us to feel bad for him about his dad. He's still a piece of shit though.

Not Chan going for a goddamn pinky touch. He couldn't even pretend about it and went immediately for the whole hand.

What in the Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory is the way Chan always opens these doors?

These two are so ridiculous.

I'm having so much fun with the silly gay energy of this show.

#laws of attraction #thai bl #bl series #laws of attraction meta #Ben watches

[hamliet]

Saw an argument questioning why Wuthering Heights is taught in school since it's a racist book with harmful stereotypes where the villain is a dark skinned man who wrecks havoc in the lives of civilized white people. Now correct me if I'm wrong but isn't that the exact opposite of what the book is doing? I mean not only is Heathcliff not the villain but there's no 'good' people in the book? Everyone is despicable (pretty much) and the book also shows how people's attitude towards Heathcliff changes once he gets rich and becomes a 'gentleman', and how the toxic environment of Wuthering Heights changes a seemingly sweet-natured girl like Isabella for the worse. Also, in the second generation, Hareton, the white boy is the 'savage' and Linton who is Heathcliff's son is the 'gentleman', so again and again it seems like Emily's point is that it's not people's skin color that makes them, but the environment and the way they're treated. But like that discussion had so many people agreeing that I'm questioning my own understanding 😭

(I do get why some people don't like that both Heathcliff and Linton die and the property is returned to the two white families. But also, in a literal sense, he does get his revenge against the two white guys who did him wrong but young Cathy and Hareton had no part in Heathcliff's suffering and they both did develop and became better individuals something which Heathcliff and Catherine failed to do, partly because of their circumstances and partly because they're Heathcliff and Catherine. I'm talking a lot of nonsense but what I'm trying to say is no-one defeats Heathcliff, Heathcliff defeats himself by blindly running after revenge)

Yeah lmao. That's misreading at its unfinest. It's also, frankly, simplistic and anti-intellectual, and to quote what I reblogged yesterday, fundamentally a conservative argument instead of a progressive one.

Heathcliff is human.

That's kinda the point. Heathcliff gets dehumanized by everyone around him, so he becomes Lord Byron basically, which is a human reaction. Like, not everyone reacts to abuse (including racism) in a positive way, and not every story has to be a morality tale. Wuthering Heights is dark and gothic, more tragic than fairy tale. It also never pretends to be anything it isn't.

Anyways, the attitude that because Heathcliff is not a good person means that he's a racist caricature is not actually progressive. That's delving into another racist trope--the idea that the color of a character's skin determines how they can be portrayed.

Heathcliff is a person. Well. He's a character. But he's very, very human, and that's what makes the character so controversial and resonate so deeply centuries later. Readers are intended to wrestle with the novel's themes, with their empathy for the characters and with their horror. Ironically, these kinda of stories are, imo, far more likely to provoke actual progressive personal growth in a reader than a modern YA story that uses characters as tokens.

Look, I'm not out here trying to argue that there's nothing to critique in the classics, or even that someone can't be triggered by this issue and its portrayal in this particular novel. It's still a 19th century English novel. Was it progressive for its time in a lot of ways? Kinda. Was it still a product of its time, though? Yes, absolutely. (So are we all.) Are there elements to criticize regarding its portrayal of race, among other social issues? There definitely are.

To repeat myself, there's plenty to be critiqued. However, to argue that the entire book shouldn't be taught based on this is... no. It's a bad conclusion, and it's a dangerous argument.

The critical thinking skills are so lacking that it's alarming and reflective of the ouroboros of society: the serpent consuming its tail, young people who think they're being very progressive but who are actually just wrapping around to become the exact thing they purport to preach against.

Literature is an art meant to reflect the messiness of humanity. Wuthering Heights is so well-known because it does that very well for a lot of people. Not everyone, but that's okay. If you remove the messiness, you don't have humanity. If you blunt the pain, you're not being honest. If you're not being honest, you're perpetuating the problem.

#ask hamliet #wuthering heights #tw #literature

[hordebreaker]

"Daemon married Rhaenyra because he wanted her throne"

but when at last he came to earth, he knelt before his brother and offered up his crown as a token of his love and fealty. Viserys returned the crown and kissed Daemon on both cheeks, welcoming him home, and the lords and commons sent up a thunderous cheer as the sons of the Spring Prince were reconciled.

On Dragonstone, meanwhile, Princess Rhaenyra was once again great with child. She too took to her bed, with her husband the rogue prince ever at her side.

Surprisingly, Prince Daemon agreed with his wife. “In the Stepstones, my enemies learned to run and hide when they saw Caraxes’s wings or heard his roar…but they had no dragons of their own. It is no easy thing for a man to be a dragonslayer. But dragons can kill dragons, and have. Any maester who has ever studied the history of Valyria can tell you that. I will not throw our dragons against the usurper’s unless I have no other choice. There are other ways to use them, better ways.”

And so it was decided. Prince Daemon would lead the assault on Harrenhal, riding Caraxes. Princess Rhaenyra would remain on Dragonstone until she had recovered her strength.

“An eye for an eye, a son for a son,” Prince Daemon wrote. “Lucerys shall be avenged.”

High above the city the queen and her prince consort came together, circling over Aegon’s High Hill... Prince Daemon circled the towers of the Red Keep before bringing Caraxes down in the outer ward. Only when he was certain that the defenders would offer him no harm did he signal for his wife the queen to descend upon Syrax.

Prince Daemon proposed that the former be wed to Hard Hugh the blacksmith’s son (who had taken to calling himself Hugh Hammer), the latter to Ulf the Sot (now simply Ulf White), keeping their lands black whilst suitably rewarding the seeds for their valor in battle. But the Queen’s Hand argued against this, for both girls had younger brothers. Rhaenyra’s own claim to the Iron Throne was a special case, the Sea Snake insisted; her father had named her as his heir. Lords Rosby and Stokeworth had done no such thing. Disinheriting their sons in favor of their daughters would overturn centuries of law and precedent, and call into question the rights of scores of other lords throughout Westeros whose own claims might be seen as inferior to those of elder sisters. It was fear of losing the support of such lords, Munkun asserts in True Telling, that led the queen to decide in favor of Lord Corlys rather than Prince Daemon.

Prince Daemon echoed the queen’s misgivings. Giving pardons to rebels and traitors only sowed the seeds for fresh rebellions, he insisted. “The war will end when the heads of the traitors are mounted on spikes above the King’s Gate, and not before.” Aegon II would be found in time, “hiding under some rock,” but they could and should bring the war to Aemond and Daeron. The Lannisters and Baratheons should be destroyed as well, so their lands and castles might be given to men who had proved more loyal. Grant Storm’s End to Ulf White and Casterly Rock to Hard Hugh Hammer, the prince proposed…to the horror of the Sea Snake. “Half the lords of Westeros will turn against us if we are so cruel as to destroy two such ancient and noble houses,” Lord Corlys said. It fell to the queen herself to choose between her consort and her Hand. Rhaenyra decided to steer a middle course. She would send envoys to Storm’s End and Casterly Rock, offering fair terms and pardons…after she had put an end to the usurper’s brothers, who were in the field against her.

When the girl asked what was in the letter, he said, ‘A queen’s words, a whore’s work.’

...And yet he did nothing to take her place in any way.

#daemon targaryen #fire and blood #hotd #the blacks

[foliosriot]

Get To Know Me!

BASIC INFO

Hello! My name is Alexander, but you may call me Alex. My birthday is February 13 (2/13), and I am twenty (20) years old. I am demi-bisexual, nonbinary and only go by they/them pronouns.

ARTISTS I LISTEN TO

Bad Omens. Motionless In White. Lorna Shore. Spiritbox. Sleep Token. ERRA. Ghost Atlas. Beartooth. Ice Nine Kills. I Prevail. The Plot In You. Dayseeker. Asking Alexandria. Bring Me The Horizon. Fall Out Boy. Sleeping With Sirens. Pierce The Veil. My Chemical Romance. The Wrecks. BOYS LIKE GIRLS. Misfits. State Champs. NateWantsToBattle. Billie Eilish. A Day To Remember. Mayday Parade. 5 Seconds Of Summer. Between You & Me. NF. Metallica. Royal & The Serpent. Vended. Slipknot. AVATAR. Make Them Suffer.

THINGS AND PEOPLE I LOVE

Horror. Art + drawing. Reading. Writing. Sharks. The Pacific Northwest. Space. Star Wars. Dungeons & Dragons. Legends of Avantris. Lord Of The Rings + The Hobbit. Godzilla. Metal music. Punk music. Hockey. Markiplier. Jacksepticeye. Nathan Sharp / NateWantsToBattle. Drew Starkey. Hayden Christensen. Rory Culkin.

#get to know me #alex’s queue! #𖤐

[butchbarbieagainstterfs]

TERFs wanna make themselves look good by struggling to disassociate with conservatives (quotes from a radfem pic): “We’re critical of transgender politics based on the critique of gender roles (obvious lies) based on the safety of women and girls (implying that women are weak and thus need saving from the “evil TIMs” is very gender critical indeed /s); supportive of gender-nonconformity (unless the gender non-comforming woman looks “too male” now they’re traitors, plus gnc men are disgusting and are wearing “womanface”).” “Meanwhile conservatives are critical of transgender politics that support gender-nonconformity (along with literally any other kind of “trans politcs”) supportive of trans people who try to fit in a gender box (TOTAL BS MY LORD very few cons are, say, Blair White or Caitlyn Jenner fans but they still otherwise refer to them as men and more extremist conservatives are angry at those who refer to the two correctly).” It’s funny how TERFs are ironically trying to make themselves look worse when it comes to trans support, saying how literal conservatives who want them dead are more accepting of trans people. The absolute brainrot is just… I’m getting the reverse of “peaking” where TERFs say something so stupid I decide I’m gonna be anti-TERF, what’s that called (I've always hated TERFs but I wanna be way more actively anti-TERF now)?

Yeah Caitlyn Jenner and Blair White are a prime example of what’s called tokenism. Conservatives cite them when it suits their argument, but that doesn’t mean they actually respect them.

I will never forget this video a conservative felt the need to post of himself basically going up to Caitlyn Jenner just to repeatedly deadname and misgender her. I do not like Caitlyn Jenner at all but I felt so fucking awful for her watching that.

Also, I thought the existence of transgender people was inherently anti-gnc folk? 🤔 You see how they change their tune all the fucking time?

[dragonsbone]

Because I'm an old woman with terrible eyesight: do you have the write up of all the text in your gorgeous gifset?

hi love !! i can do that just for you <3

gif 1:

⟶ “father, smith, warrior, mother, maiden, crone, stranger…” the words foreign to lord edmure and the frey girl, but all too familiar to the king and queen of the north, whom each struggled to hide their smiles as they recalled their own wedding night.

⟶ when it was time for the feast, the lords and ladies of houses stark, frey, and tully rejoiced together in celebration. it hardly seems plausible they were at odds only weeks prior.

gif 2:

⟶ “you look pale, child,” catelyn spoke in a concerned hush.

“i’m afraid this much wine does not agree with me,” sarra answered, clearing her throat and averting her gaze.

her eyes landed on josana and catelyn smiled faintly, “the queen looks beautiful, does she not?”

sarra had a faraway look in her eyes, “she does.”

gif 3:

⟶ “if we were wed in winterfell, would you honor the bedding ceremony in the name of tradition?” josana asked her husband.

robb turned to meet her gaze, the mischief vanquished in his ice blue eyes. “i would beat a man bloody if they dared to try it.”

⟶ one of the frey boys approached her seat. “pardon me, your grace,” he began, his cheeks blushed as red as the wine. “these are for you, my queen. a token for a long and joyful marriage.” the boy gifted her a small bouquet of the flower, lily of the valley. the white, bell- shaped flower was common in the riverlands. not as beautiful as a rose, yet josana graciously accepted it.

⟶ out of the corner of her eye, josana caught a glimpse of catelyn. she watched the young lovers from afar, but she did not bore the pointed look upon her face she’d grown accustomed to in their presence. no, tonight she wore the faintest of smiles on her lips. perhaps it was the result of the wine for the change of her demeanor, or perhaps, for a sliver of hope, lady stark began to favor them after all this time.

⟶ odd, she thought. she knew the bone-chlling tune of the rains of castamere as if she wrote the melody herself. the bards played it often at casterly rock, but never here. a lannister song for a lannister queen, how fitting.

gif 4:

⟶ the tune of the rains of castamere plagued her mind. in a coat of gold or a coat of red. a lion still has claws. catelyn’s stare darted from lord walder, to josana, to robb, and back to roose, whom his own eyes remained fixed upon hers and his sleeve upon the table.

cautiously, catelyn raised a shaky hand to lift lord bolton’s silk sleeve. her old, fragile heart sank further at the sight of the iron rings.

⟶ “i feel i’ve been.. remiss in my duties. i’ve given you meat, wine, music, but i haven’t shown you the hospitality you deserve. my king has married and i owe his bride tribute. a toast to the queen in the north! a lioness in wolf pelts.”

gif 5:

⟶ in a blink of an eye, the glorious wedding had become a massacre. she saw the bodies of men who were breathing just moments ago, now nothing more than rotting corpses.

⟶ a pair of strong hands seized her from behind, pulling her away from the slaughter. josana thrashed violently in their grip, her hands frantic as they searched blindly to find something to pull or scratch. though every effort to free herself was in vain. they dodged every attack from the lioness. if only she had kept ssarra's blade at her side.

sarra. gods, where was she? please don’t be amongst the dead, josana prayed.

⟶ “robb, get up. get up and walk out! please, please! save yourself, save your wife! think of her and the babe. if not for me, think of them! live for them!”

“josana…” robb staggered on his feet. his bloody hands clung to josana’s arms, steadying himself. she felt his blood seep through her velvet gown, tainting her fair skin. “mother… grey wind…”

catelyn nodded, “yes, go to him! take josana and walk out of here!”

⟶ “the queen won't be harmed. this is after all the fruit of her labor.”

josana stiffened, her flushed cheeks now paler than the dead surrounding them. he knew. the secret she hoped to be buried with her was brought to light.

gif 6:

⟶ “the lannisters send their regards.” ord bolton words rang in the air before his knife pierced through her husband’s heart, and twisted.

josana held robb as his body fell limp in her arms. the tears burned as the ran down her cheeks. tiny droplets scattered across his face, though he did not flinch. he did not move at all, still as a statue in the crypts of winterfell. and now that’s where he would remain, buried and far out of her reach. josana wailed. she screamed and cried until her throat grew raw and hoarse.

⟶ she noticed the blade still lodged in robb’s heart. josana grabbed the knife and held the bitter steel to her throat. you wont take me nor my babe! before she could slice through her own flesh, the blade was wrenched from her throat, but the lioness refused to surrender. she wrestled for a last chance for control and firmly grasped onto it’s sharp edge. the pain soared through as it cut deep into her palm, the blood pouring down her arms. not before long, it slipped out of her hand.

⟶ lord bolton struck her hard across the cheek. the blow sends her falling, her head colliding with the ground. pain and darkness spread until then there is nothing else. the last thing she saw before she succumbed to the empty black was white petals turning red with her husband’s blood.

#asks #oc asks #josana asks #a dance of lions #happy reading <3

[shoptrendthingss]

Satisfying Youth Dreams in Crete

At the point when I was more luxury villas mykonos youthful, I needed to be a paleontologist. I was into Indiana Jones, the old world, and that large number of fantasies and legends probably founded on "history." My grandma cherished that stuff, and she ingrained in me an affection for it as well. Might Lord Arthur at some point be genuine? Did Jesus have a little girl? Have outsiders visited Earth? Was Atlantis genuine? Who knew?!

However, to my exhausted early-youngster, rural self, that's what I fantasized, perhaps as a genuine Indiana Jones, I'd figure it out.

I was particularly captivated by the Minoans, a civilization that prospered from 3000 to 1100 BC on the island of Crete, cresting from 1600 to1400 BC. They were a strong society, with running water and latrines and reservoir conduits some time before the Romans. The legends of Minos, the Minotaur, and Daedalus? That is all from the Minoans. They are additionally frequently remembered to be one of the potential starting points of the Atlantis fantasy.

Past the Minoans, I knew little of Crete past what I had gathered from articles and general common sense. I realized it made its own style of wine, a great deal of olive oil, was well known for its sea shores and, obviously, every one of the memorable vestiges. In any case, I couldn't actually let you know considerably more than that and, even those things I just knew in the vaguest terms.

In any case, fourteen days prior, I did right by my 14-year-old self and ventured foot onto Crete.

Crete is gigantic, estimating 3,219 square miles, and is the biggest island in Greece. With around a hundred sea shores, many authority climbs, about six significant urban communities, and lots of remnants, it calls for critical investment to appropriately investigate.

Tragically, I just had nine days. In such a major spot and with so brief period, I was simply ready to scratch the surfiest of surfaces.

In any case, that is travel and some time is superior to none.

This excursion, I burned through two days in Heraklion, one in Ierapetra, two in Plakias, one in Rethymno, and three in Chania. It was a "features visit" of the island.

Indeed, even with so brief period, Crete satisfied the picture I had developed to me such a long time. It's downright mind boggling.

To start with, it's is huge to such an extent that getting away from the crowds is simple. Outside a couple of well known sea shores and sanctuaries, there are places one can feel like you're the main traveler on the island.

Second, the sea shores are stupendous. Furthermore, they are shockingly shifted for a spot with a solitary environment. They were a reach: from white to yellow to pink sand, from rough to smooth, and in the middle between. One even has palm trees (which is phenomenal here). Anything ocean side you can summon to you, it's on Crete. What's more, with near 100 of them, you are never distant from one by the same token.

As somebody who loves absorbing the sun, a large portion of my time was spent on these sea shores, away from the groups, paying attention to the waves gradually lap the shore. The water was a reasonable, purplish blue that seemed to be the jungles than the Mediterranean, and a profound child blue farther. I hit six sea shores, with Elafonessi, Chrissi, and Balos being my top picks. I never realized Crete was a particularly extraordinary spot for an ocean side occasion!

Third, the scene rises and falls continually: mountains and slopes specked with olive trees then dive into gorges containing a portion of the island's renowned climbing trails. It's a dry environment as well, particularly in the east. Desolate in the late spring, it feels dry, similar to the land hurts for a drop of water. However at that point you travel west and inland a little, and you track down green slopes, ranches, and olive plantations and wonder about how rapidly the scene changes.

Crete's urban areas, going back millennia, diversion as you'd expect of puts based on remnants of before adaptations of themselves. I adored going through hours investigating every one of the little hiding spots of every city, attempting to sort out which rear entryway associated with which. You'd think you were going one way, just to wind up on a road that turned the other way erroneously. I tracked down Rethymno and Chania particularly amusing to become mixed up in.

What's more, the food? We should discuss Cretan food. On this huge and rich island, the hundreds of years have permitted occupants to develop a novel food and their own style of cheeses and wines. It's an exceptionally occasional eating regimen, comprising of greens, organic products, fish, a little protein, vegetables, grain rusks, and a lot of olive oil. You'll feast on a ton of fish, sheep, pork, and, surprisingly, a neighborhood escargot cooked in oil and thyme.

Presumably one of the most popular dishes is dakos, a dry entire grain bread you'll find all over, similar to a bruschetta. It's frequently served without help from anyone else, yet when requested as a starter, generally it's finished off with a tomato puree and cheddar (either feta or mizithra, which is whey cheddar).

Assuming that you're like me, the fastest way to your heart is through your stomach. The crunchy dakos, the pleasantness of neighborhood cheddar, the kind of the barbecued fish, and the variety of the wine — Crete had probably the best food I had my whole time in Greece.

However, the set of experiences made it wake up for me. I went through hours investigating each gallery I could find. The Archeological Gallery in Heraklion is home to an enormous assortment of Minoan curios (generally from Knossos). I became mixed up in their analyzing old coins, ancient rarities, frescoes, and sculptures. (Fun truth: The principal composed language of the Minoans, Direct A, still hasn't been interpreted. Their second, Straight B, is the principal composed variant of Greek!)

Also, there was the old castle of Knossos. I didn't track down the Minotaur. In any case, I tracked down a manual for show me around and I endured two hours investigating each region that was available to people in general. (Unfortunately, many rooms and regions are shut due to Coronavirus). Despite the fact that a large part of the royal residence is reproduced (and maybe incorrectly as well), it was cool and as similarly stunning to be there in fact. You realize that feeling you get when you've longed for a spot for such a long time and afterward you're at last there? That feeling of rapture and unadulterated satisfaction was the manner by which I felt as well.

All spots have a one of a kind energy. Its kin, history, climate, food, speed of life — every last bit of it meets up like instruments in an ensemble to make an objective's own novel orchestra. At times you vibe with that music, now and again you don't.

The energy of Crete was something I certainly flowed with. What's more, I'm appreciative that, whether I get back there, in the wake of developing it in my brain for north of 25 years, it satisfied every one of those youth dreams.

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[bemylord]

↠ toji with a virgin s/o ↞

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader.

warnings: nsfw, aged up, size kink [?], oral [fem!receiving], virgin reader, first time, lost of virginity, praising, toji calls himself daddy, grammar errors.

word counter: 3.2k

rq: I would like to request a oneshot? a hc would be appreciated too though. Toji with a virgin gf who can’t even make herself cum? Just how he would like to destroy her :)

butler's remark: (◕‿◕) hello lord, i'm back with an oneshot with toji being tremendously tender with his lover for the first time. in addition, reader is a citizen. sorry, i did it soft, bc i think toji will super-extra-super soft for the first time with his s/o, only for the first. i hope you'll like that, thanks for the request ;)

disclaimer: everything you read is purely my opinion - any detail, sketch, or event is a figment of my imagination.

you've been an ordinary citizen and had never planned to date a sorcerer or someone close to this specialty. you ain't cowardly, merely as you were thinking you'll marry a simple man and will have kids with him, and die in one day like lovebirds.

you had never considered yourself being stuck in a relationship with a sorcerer killer.

you were overworked, virtually sleeping as were walking in the empty street, dreaming to get home as soon as possible, to feel the silk sheets against your back. the area where your office was located had little street lighting, although, you hadn't felt the anxiety of being robbed or something worse. the day went lingeringly and horrible due to the boss who declared you as a temporary deputy, piled you up with a stack of papers.

but, this is life, anything might happen. all of a sudden, you overheard something behind you but as you looked back - there was nobody, as soon as you turn your head to the starting position, you saw a young, skinny man who is holding a knife in his hand.

'hmm~ look who's here, a young, gorgeous lady..' he said with his disgusting, lewd voice, coming closer to you. 'would you mind playing with me? don't be shy or els-'

you have a perky personality, no doubt, but because of how hard the day was, you had one option - run for the hills. before you could do any movements as if hit the man or run away, something prompt hit him, like a swift meteorite that you couldn't see. a cloud of dust grew around you and the man, so you hide your face in the elbow curve, covering your mouth with another hand.

as soon as the dust had settled, in front of you opened up on the view of an adult man. he was high, had an athletic, broad-shouldered, pretty impressive figure. your savior held the blade in one hand, flopped on his back.

'he ran away like a coward. don't worry, girl, you saved, thanks to me' he laughed, he stroked himself on the shoulder, as were about to leave the dead body.

'no i'm not! i'd have protected myself on my own'

you refuted his smugness, watching as he slowly moves his torso in your way, flaunting his outlining muscles through the fabric of the black t-shirt. his complacent eyes and the sharp scar over the right side of the mouth on the edge of his lips. you took a deep breath, continuing on your path as he isn't standing there, not hadn't protected you.

'you're too weak to beat even him, if not me, you'd be-'

'i am stronger as i may look'

he giggled, in a flash stood in front of you, bending over to your face, by finger tugs your face up to look at him directly in eyes, smirked.

'are you sure, girl?'

those green, almost emerald, but cold eyes looked directly into yours as two faces were as closed as you could kiss his lips.

'i'll walk you home'

'i don't want to, and anyway, maybe you're his partner in crime, leave me alon-'

previous to you had finished your phrase, he threw your tiny body on his shoulder, leisurely walking, better say, carrying you home. you beat his back, softly reminiscent of a parody of the word 'let me go, moron, i can walk by myself'

'tch, fine, idiot,' he deliberately shrugged his shoulder to close your mouth as heard the name you had given him. 'by the way, what's your name or you prefer the name idiot?' you said sarcastically.

'for you it's toji'

well.

as a result of your crawl and also being talkative when clearly you shouldn't be, you ended up being in a relationship with a man, who'd obviously fuck you on the first date, as it may count as a 'date', anywhere-anytime, by the way.

although you wouldn't ever say he isn't hot or sexy, conversely, you willingly allow him to breed, precisely you'd beg toji to breed you on the straightaway on the cervix, but for one thing.

you're a virgin.

hilariously - it's true. nothing bad to be in your age a virgin, but if you weren't dating toji it'd fine: his dirty jokes and lustful eyes which are maddening you insane, also his fucking athletic body which is outlining through the t-shirt or white cotton shirt [he wear it once] you thought he did it purposely: he knew your secret, undoubtedly could sniff your chaste nature as if you can emit fragrance.

on the second date, it had been nine days since you got acquainted with him, as you moved in with him. toji was exceedingly obsessed with every step of yours - he followed you from the work, in the mall or market, for your security and control every guy who'd be close to you.

although, you couldn't hide your addiction - he's a drug you should be careful with or you might be addicted as if you ain't. he isn't wearing pants in home, walking in front of you solely in underwear. he could walk from the shower in a terry towel wrapped around his torso as he buries his hands in his dark hair mess it up.

'what are you looking at, girl?'

you couldn't take your eyes off his bulging..

'you. just you. i'm gonna cook dinner, something.. special?'

'eggs, baby'

fushiguro put hands above the door frame, exhale and tensed every muscle, narrowing predatory eyes as you were the extraction he was target for. you're laying on his king size bed [lol i'm sorry i'm out], wondering is everything he has gotten measured in king size as he interupted your reflection by putting the knee on the edge of the bed.

'mine. in your pussy'

as if you're bewitched - you couldn't talk, just contemplate as he leisurely moves towards you. you couldn't contravene as he tugs your face to ogle in your absentminded eyes as you're avoiding his gaze, looking at the ceiling or door or even window. not. at. his. bulge.

your heart had stuck in your throat when toji ran his hand under his shirt, certainly, he has a kink of dominion, when he suddenly stopped. despite of your uncertainty and timid of subsequent play, you looked at his emerald eyes as he licks his lips with a tongue.

'are you sure, baby girl? i mean, it's your first time after all'

you quell your forthcoming question staring deeply into lascivious eyes, put hands on his massive shoulders. as you anticipated, his cock twitched as toji letting out a low groan in your ear, kissing your temple. you're absentmindedly running finger pads on his back, not knowing the proximity of bodies that are readiness wanted to intertwine together. not knowing how much it turns him on.

'stop me if i go crazy over your body, okay?'

as if. as if you dare would rip out his tongue off your crotch as he makes you his woman. toji left on your red cheeks quick kisses, took off the towel. you shut your eyes tight, still holding his shoulders barely squeeze them, letting out a hushed moan.

after you quelled your moan, toji touched your lips against his one, running fingers on your lower stomach to the cup of the breast without touching the hard nipple. light movements mixed with his muted groans. his pads deftly touched one areola as you emitted a sharp purr, arching your back a little as a dulcet sign for toji.

you dug your fingers into toji's back, as he put a finger on your hard nipple, holding himself as to grab your tits and clench it in his large hand.

you gasp for the air as if there was a catastrophic shortage of it due to the pressed body of toji. you responded at his deep kiss, wrapping hands around his neck, apparently begging for something more.

he pulled away from the kiss just to take off the shirt he has given you, baring your untouched by no one but him tits, leading palms onto breasts, skipping nipples between the gaps through fingers. he reached down to your lips to give a bit of warning kiss as he slightly bit your lip, kissing all the way down to your collarbone, finally leaving there manifestations of hickeys.

for how long toji has been stopped from leaving on your stunning skin his marks? it seems it has been absolutely not many days but toji, as you may see, clearly has to leave labels on your neck.

he dug his teeth into your neck, frantically wants your area to be dotted by him as a token for everyone meaning: she's taken, dude, don't mess up with her.

for how long toji has been stopped from touching your sensitive area as having been feel warmth and tenderness is emitted from your body?

toji squeezes your nipple imponderable, to make you feel some kind of power over you becoming submitted by toji fushiguro, a sorcerer killer, a man who owned you, spinning the pea between pads, making you let out whimpers.

'you drive me insane, little one,' he approached his face close to the breasts, touched your pea with his tongue cautiously, as not to frighten you away. 'i'm gonna make your pussy drool beneath me, completely own you as my little girl'

you feel yourself gush beneath him, burying hands in his messy hair as your breath has stuck in the throat as toji snuggles his lips on your tits, sucking your hard and probably swollen from teasing. fushiguro has made you became wet in your panties as he's moistening your breast, hearing your precipitous whimpers.

'toj-toji, i don't know-'

'tch, little girl, relax your body and let daddy do the rest'

as he pronounced, he moves down, leaving the trace of wet kisses on your stomach, massaging your hips, stopping his action to look at your red face. your chest heaves heavily every time you feel toji's silky lips on your belly as his finger pads caressing your thighs. as if something weighty is resting on your chest you take deep breathes, breathlessly exhaling.

'spread your legs'

you obediently did what he said, hesitating a bit as the only fabric holding him back to bury his mouth against your pussy, assembling all juices, tasting your cum as if it's his meal. he rested kisses on the fabric of panties, couldn't sate with tender kisses he spreads on your body.

deliberately run tongue on your labia through the thin fabric as you were about to push his hand from your crotch as toji grab you by the hips, pulling you closer. he slackens his teasing actions by kissing your inner thighs. as your cunt was lack of attention from toji, you let out a pliant whimper, approximately woefully have purred.

toji's self-restraint thinning as you're silently begging with your eyes and your hands immeasurably are burying in his dark hair. the tip of his tongue deftly sideline panties, flicked it, as he discovered a divine view on your drooling hole.

'stop me now, because i won't be able to hold back later'

teasufully kissing your labia and area around the place he should be playing with as anticipating for some pliant whimpers of you, deliberately showing you he'll lick that swollen clit, pressing a soft kiss on the skin instead. fushi's shattering your hopes of being eating every time he kissed literally everything and lick everywhere besides your hole and clit. he acts like an inexperienced teenager, notwithstanding, you know that toji'd ruin or demolish your holes like a monster.

't-toji..'

'yes, my little girl' he pressed the tip of his tongue on your clit, hearing those moans he's willing to listen for the rest of his life, then take away as you were about to press his mouth back again, digging his tongue deep inside you, although he obviously couldn't reach to your cervix, barely permeate in your hole.

'you want me to eat your little pussy?'

as if you can't talk, you nodded. scarcely reached up to take off the last thing, leisurely pulling down the panties, staring at you as a predator. toji is standing on his knee on the bed, threw your ankles on his shoulders, smooching ankles watching as to how your cheeks are becoming pinky, as you try not to look at his dick. still, you're a timid one, despite your words.

he reached to your face to give you a voluptuous kiss, returning to the starting position.

'look at your pretty pussy'

he kissed your clit in a flash replace into the tongue, making a circles on swollen and needy spot, decisively giving you what've been begging for. running the tip of the tongue on your virgin hole, leaving it for the dessert, returning to your clit.

you'd swear to god you can see stars in the ceiling as toji squeezing your nipples while moistening you. the proximity of his face in your pussy is driving you insane, for the days of cohabitation you understood he isn't a tender one, vice versa, he'd fuck you whenever his dick gets erect. maybe it's a rush of tenderness, maybe it's the fear of hurting his girl. nevertheless, you not scared to give toji full control of your body and bring you to your first orgasm by ripping the hymen. if that's i may call the way he's licking you, it'd be make-out with your pussy, due to his relentless movements by flicking his tongue on the clit.

'baby,' he pulled away from it, as you squeeze a sheet, making your knuckles become whiten as you spread legs wider, watching his mocking grin appeared on the face. 'i'll be gentle' he pressed his lips on your forehead, taking from the bedside table lubrication to low the friction. although, the thought of his dick ripped the hymen, putting all his tenderness in your first time, make your knees get shaken.

he put a soft kiss on your lips, smearing lubrication on his dick, substitute cock on the entrance. abrupt and penetrating pain wavily covered your body as you feel soft lips covered your mouth, blunting the pain with one hand being dug in your hip, painting illegible traces. another hand he put on your cheek, drawing circles with his thumb, waiting till getting used to the pain.

toji will find lots of red stripes from your nails on his back, smirked, as reminiscing about that special night when he made you his woman. his broad back was made merely for you to leave thousand and thousand fingernail impressions every night. toji had let a low groan as he feels as you move fingertips to the neck, exhaling in his chest.

he entered all his dick inside you feeling as your walls compressing the base, getting used to being full with his thick cock. you're indulging at the new, mind-blowing feeling, give him sheepish kisses as you're scared to be rejected. he moves his palm from the cheek to the ear, running fingers through your tangled but soft to the touch. you nudged your hips up, intermittently letting your breath out.

'tch, if you're not feeling well, i can come-'

'more, toji, more'

without breaking up kiss, he pulled out cock to the tip as pulling it again slowly, stretching your walls, touching with the tip your cervix as his balls touching your ass, groaning in the kiss, softly caress your thigh. you moved your palms to the shoulder, touching the musculature, going down to the biceps wrapping his arm as another hand attempting to draw patterns on the back as if it a canvas for you.

you can feel every vein, curve, and the way his tip is expanding gummy walls, as toji diligently coming in, adjusting inside you then pulling out. you're focusing on how full you're with his cock inside, your clarity gradually getting mushed as the sharp pain turning into a pleasurable and delightful feeling. sating to the new feeling might get addiction, but you're far beyond to accept that, surrendering to your lover as he gets addicted to it. you grasp for his shoulders, as he nudged in you, leaving whimpers from your mouth.

'like that, huh?' he pulled his cock out to contemplate as your facial expression have changed: you furrowed eyebrows as felt your hole being empty without thick toji's cock, practically purring like a march cat. 'beg me for it, baby'

what an insatiable man you've got. he licked his lips, looking down on it. your hymen has left blood, as he glanced at you to see his future wife your reaction.

'i-i toji, it's..'

he hummed, returning to your lips, slowly giving back the missing part.

'you okay?' you nodded as a response; he's perceiving fullness as wants to fill you up, but desperately be tempered himself, blaming he didn't wear a condom to do it. a dozen of half-moons will be littering your hips as toji's digging nails, scrambled your mind with squelches pushes in your hole. 'relax, baby girl, i'm here' he thrusts inside the spongy spot, ripping another moan out of you, voluptuous to his ears. 'baby~ you tease me with those moans of yours'

his cock was aimed at a place inside your vagina, with a slow but deep thrust skillfully reaching your cervix, massaging with the tip of his cock that spot. toji's staring at your pleased, satisfied face as he found that needy place of yours.

holding on to the headboard in the bed as support, clutching the sheet with his other hand like the composure he was rapidly losing with each thrust into your hole, formerly virgin cunt, letting out a heavy sigh, tilting his head back.

wiggling the pelvis backward and forwards as heard beneath his body your whimpers, feeling replenishment on his skin to his previous strips, losing remains self-control as your walls have been clenching his cock, as your body gets shaking as his, preparing the body for the coming ecstasy.

'toji, mh~' you tilted the head back on the pillow, wrapping legs around his pelvis, quelling moans while arching back against his chest. you're milked [? correct if i'm wrong] his cock, shuddering. you felt his lips on your cheeks, as he's covering your wet face in kisses, pulling cock out.

'damn, baby, probably-' he stroke his hard cock a couple of times before releasing his cum onto your belly. fushiguro ran fingers from the hairline, wiping beads of sweat from the hairline through hair. 'are you good?'

as you're still catching your breath you rested on your face a slight smile, closing eyes. he giggled, getting out of bed.

'almost made a baby' it took him a second or two, to lift you up in my arms, leading into the bathroom. 'i'm gonna clean you up, my baby. but you could fall asleep in my arms, you did such a good job by taking my cock' he kissed your forehead, wiping your drops of sweat.

'i love you, toji'

he put you on the washing machine, turning away from you to fill the tub. what went unnoticed was his relaxed smile after your phrase.

'i love you more, little one'

(◕‿◕)

↳ back to the main master list.

i feel i made lots of mistakes, like, idk. correct me if smth i did wrong.

i remember my promise to do one more work with toji, so lately i'll write hdc + drabble with him.

#jjk oneshot #jjk x reader #jjk toji #jjk toji fushiguro #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader #toji zenin #toji smut #toji imagine #o my god i am simping again #i am here again #toji jjk #toji fushiguro fanfic #jjk touji #fushiguro touji

[vivacissimx]

Daenerys & discomfort in gifted clothes

[dany month day 5: dresses & costumes]

As a Princess, Khaleesi, and Queen, Daenerys is expected to look the part. In many instances she is gifted clothing that she does not feel comfortable in, gifts that reflect what the gifter expects of her. Daenerys is able to identify the expectations behind these supposed gifts, and the power balance she plays with by either wearing them or not wearing them.

Dany touched it. The cloth was so smooth that it seemed to run through her fingers like water. She could not remember ever wearing anything so soft. It frightened her. She pulled her hand away. "Is it really mine?"

"A gift from the Magister Illyrio," Viserys said, smiling. Her brother was in a high mood tonight. "The color will bring out the violet in your eyes. And you shall have gold as well, and jewels of all sorts. Illyrio has promised. Tonight you must look like a princess."

A princess, Dany thought. She had forgotten what that was like. Perhaps she had never really known. "Why does he give us so much?" she asked. "What does he want from us?"

-AGOT, Daenerys I

Other gifts she was given in plenty by other Dothraki: slippers and jewels and silver rings for her hair, medallion belts and painted vests and soft furs, sandsilks and jars of scent, needles and feathers and tiny bottles of purple glass, and a gown made from the skin of a thousand mice. "A handsome gift, Khaleesi," Magister Illyrio said of the last, after he had told her what it was. "Most lucky." The gifts mounted up around her in great piles, more gifts than she could possibly imagine, more gifts than she could want or use.

-AGOT, Daenerys II

Rhaegal hissed and dug sharp black claws into her bare shoulder as Dany stretched out a hand for the wine. Wincing, she shifted him to her other shoulder, where he could claw her gown instead of her skin. She was garbed after the Qartheen fashion. Xaro had warned her that the Enthroned would never listen to a Dothraki, so she had taken care to go before them in flowing green samite with one breast bared, silvered sandals on her feet, with a belt of black-and-white pearls about her waist. For all the help they offered, I could have gone naked. Perhaps I should have. She drank deep.

-ACOK, Daenerys III

If the Milk Men thought her such a savage, she would dress the part for them. When she went to the stables, she wore faded sandsilk pants and woven grass sandals. Her small breasts moved freely beneath a painted Dothraki vest, and a curved dagger hung from her medallion belt. Jhiqui had braided her hair Dothraki fashion, and fastened a silver bell to the end of the braid.

-ACOK, Daenerys IV

Today she wore a robe of purple samite and a silver sash, and on her head the three-headed dragon crown the Tourmaline Brotherhood had given her in Qarth. Her slippers were silver as well, with heels so high that she was always half afraid she was about to topple over. When she was dressed, Missandei brought her a polished silver glass so she could see how she looked. Dany stared at herself in silence. Is this the face of a conqueror? So far as she could tell, she still looked like a little girl.

-ASOS, Daenerys VI

[...]Irri and Jhiqui were waiting to brush the tangles from her hair and garb her as befit the Queen of Meereen, in a Ghiscari tokar.

The garment was a clumsy thing, a long loose shapeless sheet that had to be wound around her hips and under an arm and over a shoulder, its dangling fringes carefully layered and displayed. Wound too loose, it was like to fall off; wound too tight, it would tangle, trip, and bind. Even wound properly, the tokar required its wearer to hold it in place with the left hand. Walking in a tokar demanded small, mincing steps and exquisite balance, lest one tread upon those heavy trailing fringes. It was not a garment meant for any man who had to work. The tokar was a master's garment, a sign of wealth and power.

-ADWD, Daenerys I

Lord Ghael had a mouth of brown and rotten teeth and the pointed yellow face of a weasel. He also had a gift. "Cleon the Great sends these slippers as a token of his love for Daenerys Stormborn, the Mother of Dragons."

Irri slid the slippers onto Dany's feet. They were gilded leather, decorated with green freshwater pearls. Does the butcher king believe a pair of pretty slippers will win my hand? "King Cleon is most generous. You may thank him for his lovely gift." Lovely, but made for a child. Dany had small feet, yet the pointed slippers mashed her toes together.

-ADWD, Daenerys I

Meereen was not her home, and never would be. It was a city of strange men with strange gods and stranger hair, of slavers wrapped in fringed tokars, where grace was earned through whoring, butchery was art, and dog was a delicacy. Meereen would always be the Harpy's city, and Daenerys could not be a harpy.

-ADWD, Daenerys X

#daenerys targaryen #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #danymonth2021

[sunfortune]

my girl lorde out here dropping miss after miss, nothing like consistency <3

shes really embarrassing me out here. after i claimed her as my token white girl

#ask #how could she do this

[wallgirl]

The Little Nereid Part One

3200 words, part one of a five part fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate... and painful.

Categories: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending; no NSFW content

---

The incessant cry of seagulls encircling the rocky bluffs below finally woke her. She exhaled reluctantly, tugging the blanket closer to her chest. They were especially loud this morning; perhaps a school of fish had washed up on shore. She was surprised that she didn’t hear Thoe shouting at them in a vain attempt to get them to scatter. Thoe had always hated seagulls, and a millennium of living beside the ocean had done nothing to calm her ire. She rolled away from the bright light entering from the window and drowsily pondered how she would spend the day. If the weather held up, perhaps she would go for a run along the shoreline.

               Then realization hit her, and she sat up, fully awake. Of course, she had plans for the day – it was her birthday!

---

               And not just any birthday, but her coming-of-age celebration. From today on, she would officially be a woman in the eyes of society; no longer a mere girl, despite her thin build and wide eyes.

               She jumped out of bed and undid her rumpled chiton, tossing it haphazardly onto the marble floor as she ran to her dresser. She hurriedly sought through the drawer before pulling out one of her nicer peplos with gold embroidery, then turned to the next drawer in search of a clean chiton.

               “Dynamene! Are you up?” A loud voice echoed from the other side of the bedroom door.

               “Yes! Yes, I’m awake!” Dynamene called back, hastily slamming the drawers closed and turning to the full-length mirror across from her bed.

               “May I come in?” Without waiting for a response, the door opened and a tall maiden with her auburn hair drawn into a long braid entered.

               “Help me fasten my peplos, Actaea,” Dynamene muttered, tugging the fabric around her body.

               “I suppose…” Actaea sighed dramatically. She stepped behind Dynamene and began to gather the cloth expertly. “You know, I’m glad I caught you while you were getting dressed. I have the perfect pins for you to use today.” With a smile, she produced two golden pins with mother-of-pearl heads.

Dynamene broke into a wide beam at the sight of her gifts, her freckled cheeks dimpling in delight. “Thank you, Actaea. They’re beautiful.”

“Aren’t they? I sent for them a few weeks ago. I know you’ve wanted pins with mother-of-pearl for a while.”

“I have, it’s my favorite.” Dynamene admired her reflection shamelessly as Actaea finished positioning the pins, now holding her chiton together at the shoulders.

“I know. What older sister would I be if I didn’t know your favorite stone?” Actaea teased her with a tug on her hair.

Dynamene swatted at her playfully. “Mother-of-pearl isn’t a stone, silly!”

Actaea laughed and took hold of her hand. “Come along, birthday girl. Our sisters have set up breakfast down at the beach.”

Dynamene laughed back with excitement and allowed her older sister to rush her along the pristine white halls of the palace. Exquisite white marble reflected the sunlight entering from the tall windows, making for a heavenly vision when combined with the sight of the ocean gently churning against the rocky bluffs and sandy beaches below. They burst out of the palace’s bottom story entrance onto a vast deck. Across, carved between the rock that crowded up along the bottom of the palace, was a large staircase leading down to the beach. Well, perhaps staircase was too generous; all 150 of the steps were weathered from years of use by the Nereids running back and forth from the palace to the ocean, and tender weeds had begun to billow gently along the cracks. But the Nereids – that is, Dynamene and her older sisters – preferred the well-loved look.

The master of the palace was guaranteed to have a different opinion, but as he never used the staircase, the point was moot.

The stairs ended in soft, peach-hued sands that gave way beneath the sisters’ feet. Further down, along a cluster of rocks that jutted out into the cerulean waters, two banquet tables had been set up. They were well-laden with fresh fruit, wine, honey cakes, and just-roasted fish.

“Dynamene!” The first of her sisters to spot her yelled out. “Happy birthday, Dynamene!” The rest of her sisters, all forty-nine of them, quickly gathered to greet her. A merry chorus of “Happy birthday!” rang out for a full minute before they led her to her place of honor at the head of one of the tables.

“Happy birthday, baby Dynamene,” the last of her sisters called from where she was perched on top of the boulder closest to the tables. Good-natured Eione, with her sunbaked red hair and perpetually sandy legs, rose her glass. “To you!”

“To baby Dynamene!” The rest of the sisters called back, raising their glasses in a toast.

Blushing from the attention, Dynamene rose her glass to toast them back before sipping at the wine. It was remarkably sweet; no doubt sourced from one of the finest casks in the palace.

“Ah, but it is a sad day, too,” Actaea sighed dramatically. “The youngest of us has finally come-of-age; and now we have nothing to look forward to but senility.”

“Get out,” scoffed Ianeira, the eldest of the fifty. She waved her hand as if to swat away Actaea’s words. “Nereids don’t worry about getting old. As the pure-blooded daughters of two water gods, the day we see a gray hair will never come.”

“Why aren’t we gods, anyways,” another sister grumbled.

“I am glad enough to be a sea nymph,” Eione called, stretching her arms. “We are still leagues above mortals, and we don’t have any pesky rules or civil struggles to worry about. Let the other gods have their fun.”

“I agree,” nodded Ianeira. “We’ve seen every sort of trouble that can come from being a god, just by living here.”

Dynamene started at the mention of their master. “Ah, yes… Lord Poseidon. He’s due to come home this afternoon, isn’t he?”

“Yes, so we must make sure our duties are finished before he arrives. But there will be plenty of time afterwards to continue to celebrate your special day,” Actaea leaned over to ruffle Dynamene’s hair.

Dynamene smiled. “Perhaps it’s uncouth to ask, but… I wonder if I can expect a gift from him?” she murmured back lowly.

“Of course you can!” Eione shouted back, and Dynamene gaped at her. Truly, nothing escaped her ears. “Whose birthday was it last? They got a gift. Master Poseidon always gives us something for our birthday; a token of his appreciation, right?”

“Are you hoping for anything in particular?” Actaea asked. “Perhaps a whole island to yourself? Half of the treasure room?”

“No!” Dynamene laughed, swatting her older sister on the arm. “I…” She paused. “I will be happy with anything Lord Poseidon chooses to bestow me with.”

“Ask him to bestow you a new hair comb, then,” a sister snided from behind her. With a careless touch, Thoe ran her hand along Dynamene’s dark hair. “We should be heading back to the palace soon. I’ll fix your hair for you, Dyna. My birthday gift will be one of hair oil and the removal of split-ends.”

And so, all too soon, breakfast was over, and the sisters began their ascent back to the palace to attend to their chores. Once Thoe had sculpted Dynamene’s hair into what she deemed a more acceptable state, the two joined their sisters in cleaning the palace’s vast floors. Half of the sisters made the journey back and forth from the palace to the beach, lugging water in mighty jugs to throw across the marble floors. The other sisters used their innate gifts as sea nymphs to manipulate the water back and forth across the floor’s surface in gentle waves, gathering up the dust and dirt and sending it flowing into grated vents along the bottom of the walls. A system of pipes beneath the palace carried the water back down to the ocean, in a convenient and simple cycle.

Once the floors had been cleaned, the sisters broke up further into singles and pairs, airing out linens and shaking out rugs in every furnished room. Dynamene remained with Thoe as they methodically went through each bedroom and made the beds. Today, Thoe’s abrasive nature did little to draw Dynamene out of her thoughts. She was lost in pondering what Poseidon might give her for her birthday. It was never anything grand, but that was hardly surprising; Poseidon was no sentimental man and being able to live and serve in his palace was gift enough to begin with. But for every Nereid’s birthday, he still remembered to give them something as a token of appreciation. A simple formality. And yet… Dynamene’s heartbeat quickened. She racked her memory; what had he gifted her her last birthday? It had been a while, truth be told. The Nereids only celebrated their birthdays every hundred years. There were so many of them, and they aged so slowly, that celebrating every year seemed like a burden; not to mention that several of them shared a birth month and day.

But now Dynamene’s day had arrived, and she was the last of her sisters to reach womanhood. It was her first official birthday since she had experienced menarche several decades ago. She was quite a bit taller, though still slender in body and round in her cheeks, then she was when she had arrived at Poseidon’s palace with her sisters. Had it really been a thousand years since then? She closed her eyes briefly, reliving the emotions she had felt as a young girl seeing the palace, and its master, for the first time.

Upon their arrival, every sister had greeted Poseidon formally, stating their name with a curtsy, oldest to youngest. Dynamene had never met Poseidon before that day and had no idea what to expect of the man that would become her master. When it was finally her turn, as the youngest of the sisters, to greet him, her heart had nearly stopped.

He had towered over her, a statuesque man measuring over six feet in height, with unfeeling blue eyes and an expression carved of stone. He struck an intimidating figure, even from where he sat upon his throne, and little Dynamene’s heart had jumped to her throat in fear.

But then he had shifted ever so slightly in his seat, just a simple tilt of his head and curl of his hand. The lock of hair that threatened to fall into his eyes caught the firelight just so, and his gray gaze rose to scrutinize her face. It was then that little Dynamene no longer saw a heartless stone statue, but a god; a magnificent, handsome man, with all the power of the oceans at his beck-and-call, who made every other lesser being tremble from his footsteps.

At that moment, she no longer feared him, even as a young girl before an unimaginably powerful stranger. No, not entirely.

She was in awe of him.

“Dynamene!” Thoe’s sharp call brought her back to her senses. “Ianeira is calling for you.”

“Ah, yes,” Dynamene quickly replied, her face flushing. “I’m going.”

Down the end of the hall, the eldest sister waited for her. “There you are. We’re almost done; all that’s left is the lighting of the fire in Lord Poseidon’s quarters. As it’s your special day, I thought you might like the honor.”

Dynamene’s mouth ran dry. “The honor?! But… it’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

“Well, perhaps, if you’re lucky, he’ll arrive as you’re taking care of it. Then he’ll be able to give you your birthday gift straight-away, yes?”

Dynamene nearly choked on her breath. “I… I don’t know if Lord Poseidon would even hand me it himself. He’s always had it brought to our room by the other servants, or the delivery person. I don’t think he would personally-”

“Enough excuses,” Ianeira shooed her. “Hurry, it’s nearly lunchtime.”

With no other choice, Dynamene began the ascent through the palace towards Poseidon’s quarters. Her steps were rather reluctant, and she twisted the fabric of her peplos incessantly. Even his rooms without him in it were intimidating, full of heavy energy without a single fabric fold out of place. Of course, they were so pristine because the Nereids cleaned and organized them with care, especially when Poseidon was away on business, but every surface was kept eternally spotless to the point that it felt almost oppressive.

All too soon, she had reached the top of the final staircase leading to his quarters. Pushing through the heavy, ornate mahogany doors that were twice her height, she silently entered the sitting room. Poseidon’s personal suite consisted of a sitting room, his bedroom, and his private bathroom. Perhaps it seemed sparse compared to the living quarters of other gods, but Poseidon hated frivolity. The simple rooms suited him well.

That was not to say that they weren’t furnished with the finest furniture and materials available. The great fireplace that loomed across from her had intricate reliefs carved into its marble, recreating important moments from the Greek pantheon’s history. Dynamene brushed her fingertips tenderly against an image of a young Poseidon, freshly freed alongside his siblings from the stomach of their father, Cronus. She marveled at the detail, almost too fine to clearly see with the naked eye. Hephaestus himself had carved the images as a house-warming gift to Poseidon, his skill evident as Dynamene stared in wonder at the stone Poseidon’s face. If she squinted, she could almost make out the individual lashes of his eyes.

Without warning, the mighty doors behind her swung open, and she spun around, back pressed against the wall.

A towering figure stepped inside, allowing the doors to creak shut behind him. The faint light that crept in from the windows in the adjoining rooms gently illuminated the man’s pale face and bare chest. He moved forward, steps slow and deliberate. The dim gray light pulled along the edges of his figure to reveal a solemn face and fair, windswept hair.

“Lord Poseidon,” Dynamene breathed, immediately dropping into a curtsy. She stared at the floor, listening to her own heartbeat become a rapid pounding in her ears. She had been caught dallying in his quarters, and she hadn’t even lit the fire yet.

But his expression changed naught as he took in the sight of the dark fireplace. His eyes slewed left towards it, then back near Dynamene. “You have yet to light the fire.”

Dynamene could barely make out her own voice over the roar of blood in her ears. “Yes, my lord. Please accept my deepest apologies; I have no excuse for shirking my duties.”

He said nothing in reply, but crossed the room to drop a scroll atop his bedside table. Her face burning, Dynamene spun back towards the fireplace and dropped to her knees, quickly attending to the hearth. As the flames began to roar to life, she heard his calm voice once more.

“Come here,” he said. Her hands began to shake, and she slowly righted herself before crossing the room to stand before him on lead-filled legs.

He stared down at her. No, not at her, but somewhere near her. He never looked anyone in the eyes, and Dynamene certainly didn’t expect him to start now. It would be a wasted effort anyhow; Dynamene couldn’t even bring herself to look at his face, instead staring rigidly at his toned shoulders. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her; she knew he wouldn’t yell at her; so why, oh why was she so shaken just standing before him? Why did her entire body feel as if it would break down into jelly at the slightest movement?

He rose one hand, and Dynamene forced herself to look. Laying atop his palm was a simple box, covered in blue satin. She immediately understood, and a different sort of heat filled her veins. He again waited in silence. She knew he meant for her to take it, and she lifted her own hands hesitantly to reach for it. Every movement, every motion was a vast effort, and she found herself begging her body not to flinch, not to mess this up.

As her fingers met the box, she accidentally brushed one fingertip against his palm, and she quickly pulled the hand back, as if afraid she’d be burned. But the other hand had successfully taken ahold of the box, and she drew it back to her chest. “Th… Thank you, Lord Poseidon,” she whispered, her voice breathless and her mouth dry as cotton.

He said nothing in reply, lingering for a moment. She chanced a glance up at his face, seizing the opportunity to once again memorize every feature of his face. A straight nose with the slightest upwards tilt. Those generous black eyelashes that flared out like the wings of a raven. His slight lips that, no matter the expression their owner held, always looked soft. And that curl of hair that always rested alongside his temple, threatening to dip into his eyes – how she longed to reach forward and brush it back for him.

               How she longed to reach up and caress his cheek.

               It was then that Dynamene realized that he was, indeed, gazing back at her, for perhaps the first time in her life. But perhaps she had just imagined it because, in the next moment, he was already turning away from her, striding away towards the bath. She stared at his strong back and the shifting of his shoulder blades, and her hands tightened around the box.

Without another word, she slipped from his quarters and fled down the stairs.

“Dynamene? Is everything alright?” Ianeira called after her, voice filled with concern.

“Yes!” Dynamene found the energy to shout back, even as she continued to sprint. “I’m just in a hurry to see my gift!”

Breathless, she shouldered open the door to her room and closed it with the other before sitting atop her bed. She could once again barely command her trembling fingers to separate the lid from the rest of the box before gently lifting a layer of protective cotton that shielded the rest of the contents.

Nestled inside, a single mother-of-pearl bracelet gleamed up at her in the sunlight.

Her breath caught in her chest. She didn’t dare touch with her clumsy hands for the moment, instead lifting the box up so she could better examine it in the light. It was flawless and sized perfectly for her slender wrist. Setting the box back on her lap, she tenderly slid the bracelet over her hand. She held it with a feather-light touch, not wanting to leave a smudge on any pearl’s surface. It fit as if it was always meant to be there.

She lifted her hand to the window, admiring in awe the way the iridescent beads caught the light. “Beautiful,” she sighed. For reasons unclear, the memory of her fingers brushing his hand arose, and she pursed her lips before cradling her bracelet-clad wrist against her chest. “Thank you,” she whispered. The heat in her face, and the electricity coiled in her veins, remained.

---

Author’s notes:

I really wanted to explore the feelings and pain of first love in this fanfiction; you know, that teenage feeling of desperately wanting someone unattainable. It really brought back some of my own memories while writing this lol. I also want to explore the gray shades of loving someone like Poseidon, in as canon a view as possible. Of course, there area a lot of empty spaces in Poseidon’s canon characterization for me to fill in, but I’ll try to do so while heavily considering his canon depiction.

There’s no way I can write for 49 different side character Nereids, so there will only be six or seven at most that are part of the cast. If it’s hard keeping them straight, have this little guide I made for myself while writing:

Actaea – caring sister

Eione – tomboy sister

Thoe – rude sister

Ianeira – oldest sister

#record of ragnarok #poseidon #record of ragnarok poseidon #fanfiction #poseidon x oc

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 13: I Have Trust Issues But Okay

We spent two days on the Amtrak train, heading west through hills, over rivers, past amber waves of grain. We weren't attacked once, but I didn't relax. I felt that we were traveling around in a display case, being watched from above and maybe from below, that something was waiting for the right opportunity. We tried to keep a low profile because Percy and I's name and picture were splattered over the front pages of several East Coast newspapers. It seemed like when they saw me with Percy they realized me and my family are gone. The Trenton Register-News showed a photo taken by a tourist as we got off the Greyhound bus. Percy had a wild look in my eyes. His sword was a metallic blur in his hands. It might've been a baseball bat or a lacrosse stick. I was holding his hand with my knife on the other hand. The picture's caption read: Twelve-year-old Percy Jackson, wanted for questioning in the Long Island disappearance of his mother two weeks ago, is shown here fleeing from the bus where he accosted several elderly female passengers. The bus exploded on an east New Jersey roadside shortly after Jackson fled the scene. Based on eyewitness accounts, police believe the boy may be traveling with three teenage accomplices. It has been found out one of which is Y/N L/N, a twelve-year-old girl who went missing with her family during a trip. Percy Jackson's stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, has offered a cash reward for information leading to his capture.

"Don't worry," Annabeth told Percy. "Mortal police could never find us." But she didn't sound so sure. The rest of the day we spent alternately pacing the length of the train (because I had a really hard time sitting still) or looking out the windows. Calm Once, I spotted a family of centaurs galloping across a wheat field, bows at the ready, as they hunted lunch. The little boy centaur, who was the size of a second-grader on a pony, caught my eye and waved. I looked around the passenger car, the adult riders all had their faces buried in laptop computers or magazines, Percy and I saw an amazed look. Another time, toward evening, Percy said he saw something huge moving through the woods. He swore it was a lion, except that lions don't live wild in America, and it was the size of a Hummer, then it leaped through the trees and was gone. I told him he might have been seeing things and Annabeth agreed. Our reward money for returning Gladiola the poodle had only been enough to purchase tickets as far as Denver. We couldn't get berths in the sleeper car, so we dozed in our seats. My neck got stiff. I sat between Percy and Annabeth. Grover kept snoring and bleating and waking Percy up. Once, he shuffled around and his fake foot fell off. Annabeth and I had to stick it back on before any of the other passengers noticed. "So," Annabeth asked me, once we'd gotten Grover's sneaker readjusted. "Who wants Percy's help?" "What do you mean?" "You heard it too didn't you? When he was asleep just now, he mumbled, 'I won't help you.' Has he told you what he's dreaming about?" "Gossiping about me?" Percy yawned. "Pretty much everyone is. So I think we'll join." I said. "Annabeth wants to know about your dream. I could tell he was reluctant to say anything. It was the second time he'd dreamed about it. Then he finally told her. Annabeth was quiet for a long time. "If you think it's Hades, that doesn't sound like Hades. He always appears on a black throne, and he never laughs." She pointed out. "He offered my mother in trade. Who else could do that?" We could. If you bring us together we could trade. "What?" Percy and Annabeth looked at me in worry. "Something on my face? Is there something close?" "Y/N, you did it again." Percy said. "Did what?" "You... Talked. Differently. Like weirdly." "Your definition of weird doesn't describe me. I did nothing wrong. I haven't even given an in put on your topic. Which we should get back on." I don't know why I had no idea what they meant by me talking weirdly, but I felt like I should stay away from that topic. "I guess ... if he meant, 'Help me rise from the Underworld.' If he wants war with the Olympians. But why ask you to bring him the master bolt if he already has it?" She explained looking at me as if I was the one that needed convincing. I shook my head, wishing I knew the answer. I thought about what Grover had told me, that the Furies on the bus seemed to have been looking for something. Where is it? Where? Maybe Grover sensed my emotions. He snorted in his sleep, muttered something about vegetables, and turned his head. Percy readjusted Grover's cap so it covered his horns. "Percy, you can't barter with Hades. You know that, right? He's deceitful, heartless, and greedy. I don't care if his Kindly Ones weren't as aggressive this time-" "This time?" I asked. "You mean you've run into them before?" Her hand crept up to her necklace. She fingered a glazed white bead painted with the image of a pine tree, one of her clay end-of-summer tokens. "Let's just say I've got no love for the Lord of the Dead. You can't be tempted to make a deal for your mom." "What would you do if it was your dad?" "That's easy," she said. "I'd leave him to rot." "You're not serious?" Annabeth's gray eyes fixed on me. She wore the same expression she'd worn in the woods at camp, the moment she drew her sword against the hellhound. "My dad's resented me since the day I was born," she said. "He never wanted a baby. When he got me, he asked Athena to take me back and raise me on Olympus because he was too busy with his work. She wasn't happy about that. She told him heroes had to be raised by their mortal parent." "But how ... I mean, I guess you weren't born in a hospital...." "I appeared on my father's doorstep, in a golden cradle, carried down from Olympus by Zephyr the West Wind. You'd think my dad would remember that as a miracle, right? Like, maybe he'd take some digital photos or something. But he always talked about my arrival as if it were the most inconvenient thing that had ever happened to him. When I was five he got married and totally forgot about Athena. He got a 'regular' mortal wife, and had two 'regular' mortal kids, and tried to pretend I didn't exist." I stared out the train window. The lights of a sleeping town were drifting by. I wanted to make Annabeth feel better. I don't know but the only way I could think of was a hug. So I wrapped and arm around her shoulders. She stiffened unsure of what I'd done. "My parents, they loved me all the same. The closet I got to talking about Gods was when they thought me. Not a single hint was dropped about me being a halfblood. I mean if you count my grandma Hestia. Which I think is just named after the goddess. I mean yeah, you had a not so wonderful life... But at least you're who you are now." I smiled at her. Eying Percy I gave him a nod towards Annabeth telling him to comfort her since he'd started it anyway. "My mom married a really awful guy," he told her. "Grover said she did it to protect me, to hide me in the scent of a human family. Maybe that's what your dad was thinking." Annabeth kept worrying at her necklace. She was pinching the gold college ring that hung with the beads. It occurred to me that the ring must be her father's. I wondered why she wore it if she hated him so much. "He doesn't care about me," she said. "His wife-my stepmom-treated me like a freak. She wouldn't let me play with her children. My dad went along with her. Whenever something dangerous happened-you know, something with monsters-they would both look at me resentfully, like, 'How dare you put our family at risk.' Finally, I took the hint. I wasn't wanted. I ran away." "How old were you?" "Same age as when I started camp. Seven." "But ... you couldn't have gotten all the way to Half-Blood Hill by yourself." "Not alone, no. Athena watched over me, guided me toward help. I made a couple of unexpected friends who took care of me, for a short time, anyway." I wanted to ask what happened, but Annabeth seemed lost in sad memories. Luke had already told me some of these part where he went here with Annabeth and Thalia. So I gazed out the train windows as the dark fields of Ohio raced by. Toward the end of our second day on the train, June 13, eight days before the summer solstice, we passed through some golden hills and over the Mississippi River into St. Louis. Annabeth craned her neck to see the Gateway Arch, which looked to me like a huge shopping bag handle stuck on the city. "I want to do that," she sighed. "What?" I asked. "Build something like that. You ever see the Parthenon, Y/N?" "Only in pictures." "Someday, I'm going to see it in person. I'm going to build the greatest monument to the gods, ever. Something that'll last a thousand years." Percy laughed. "You? An architect?" Her cheeks flushed. "Yes, an architect. Athena expects her children to create things, not just tear them down, like a certain god of earthquakes I could mention." "Percy! I think she'll be incredible." I pinched his arm. We watched the churning brown water of the Mississippi below. I took Percy's hand in fear that the water would just grab me and drag me down. "Sorry," Annabeth said. "That was mean." I nudged Percy to apologize as well, "I didn't mean to make fun of you. I'm sorry." "Can't you two work together a little?" I pleaded. "I mean, didn't Athena and Poseidon ever cooperate?" Annabeth had to think about it. "I guess ... the chariot," she said tentatively. "My mom invented it, but Poseidon created horses out of the crests of waves. So they had to work together to make it complete." "Then you two can cooperate, too. Right?" We rode into the city, Annabeth watching as the Arch disappeared behind a hotel. "I suppose," she said at last. We pulled into the Amtrak station downtown. The intercom told us we'd have a three-hour layover before departing for Denver. Grover stretched. Before he was even fully awake, he said, "Food." "Come on, goat boy," Annabeth said. "Sightseeing." "Sightseeing?" "The Gateway Arch," she said. "This may be my only chance to ride to the top. Are you coming or not?" Grover, Percy and I exchanged looks. I wanted to say no, but seeing the stars in Annabeth's as she watched, she was too adorable to say no to. Grover shrugged. "As long as there's a snack bar without monsters." The Arch was about a mile from the train station. Late in the day the lines to get in weren't that long. We threaded our way through the underground museum, looking at covered wagons and other junk from the 1800s. It wasn't all that thrilling, but Annabeth kept telling us interesting facts about how the Arch was built, and Grover kept passing me jelly beans, so I was okay. I kept looking around, though, at the other people in line. "You smell anything?" Percy murmured to Grover. He took his nose out of the jelly-bean bag long enough to sniff. "Underground," he said distastefully. "Underground air always smells like monsters. Probably doesn't mean anything." I took a peek at my knife and saw there was a very weak glow, or maybe a sunlight reflection. Somewhere in between. "Guys," I said. "You know the gods' symbols of power?" Annabeth had been in the middle of reading about the construction equipment used to build the Arch, but she looked over. "Yeah?" "Well, Hade-" Grover cleared his throat. "We're in a public place.... You mean, our friend downstairs?" "Um, right," I said. "Our friend way downstairs. Doesn't he have a hat like Annabeth's?" "You mean the Helm of Darkness," Annabeth said. "Yeah, that's his symbol of power. I saw it next to his seat during the winter solstice council meeting." "He was there?" Percy asked. She nodded. "It's the only time he's allowed to visit Olympus-the darkest day of the year. But his helm is a lot more powerful than my invisibility hat, if what I've heard is true...." "It allows him to become darkness," Grover confirmed. "He can melt into shadow or pass through walls. He can't be touched, or seen, or heard. And he can radiate fear so intense it can drive you insane or stop your heart. Why do you think all rational creatures fear the dark?" "But then ... how do we know he's not here right now, watching us?" I asked. Annabeth and Grover exchanged looks. "We don't," Grover said. "Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better," Percy said. "Got any blue jelly beans left?" Someone else could be watching. Hades isn't the only one to blend in the shadow young vessel. But worry not, all in the darkness, shall be your ally. So Hades will also be my ally? As air and water refuse, land and all there is shall be your ally. Can't I be allies with all? Hades, Zeus, Poseidon. Everyone. The three of them looked at me in surprise. "Don't say their name!" Grover whispered loudly. "Whose name? I haven't said a name!" I could talk through you young vessel. Is this the first time this happened? How can you forget about our conversation? Talk through me? Who are you? I am one of which that'll make sure you become one with yourself. "Y/N!!" Percy yelled. "What? Geez, you're too loud." "We've been calling your name for three minutes." Annabeth said. "Are you... Okay?" "Yeah why wouldn't I be?" When the tiny elevator car came. We got shoehorned into the car with this big fat lady and her dog, a Chihuahua with a rhinestone collar. I figured maybe the dog was a seeing-eye Chihuahua, because none of the guards said a word about it. We started going up, inside the Arch. I'd never been in an elevator that went in a curve, and my stomach wasn't too happy about it. "No parents?" the fat lady asked us. She had beady eyes; pointy, coffee-stained teeth; a floppy denim hat, and a denim dress that bulged so much, she looked like a blue-jean blimp. "They're below," Annabeth told her. "Scared of heights." "Oh, the poor darlings." The Chihuahua growled. The woman said, "Now, now, sonny. Behave." The dog had beady eyes like its owner, intelligent and vicious. I said, "Sonny. Is that his name?" "No," the lady told me. She smiled, as if that cleared everything up. At the top of the Arch, the observation deck reminded me of a tin can with carpeting. Rows of tiny windows looked out over the city on one side and the river on the other. The view was okay, but if there's anything I like less than a confined space, it's a confined space six hundred feet in the air. I was ready to go pretty quick. I could see Percy was too. So I took his hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze to calm him down despite my breakdown. Annabeth kept talking about structural supports, and how she would've made the windows bigger, and designed a see-through floor. She probably could've stayed up there for hours, but the park ranger announced that the observation deck would be closing in a few minutes. I steered Annabeth while Percy with Grover, toward the exit, loaded them into the elevator, and we were about to get in myself when I realized there were already two other tourists inside. No room for me. The park ranger said, "Next car, sir." "We'll get out," Annabeth said. "We'll wait with you two." But that was going to mess everybody up and take even more time, so I said, "Naw, it's okay. We'll see you guys at the bottom. I'll keep an eye on him." Grover and Annabeth both looked nervous, but they let the elevator door slide shut. Their car disappeared down the ramp. Now the only people left on the observation deck were me, a little boy with his parents, the park ranger, and the fat lady with her Chihuahua. Percy and I smiled uneasily at the fat lady. She smiled back, her forked tongue flickering between her teeth. Wait a minute. Forked tongue? Before I could decide if I'd really seen that, her Chihuahua jumped down and started yapping at Percy. "Now, now, sonny," the lady said. "Does this look like a good time? We have all these nice people here." "Doggie!" said the little boy. "Look, a doggie!" His parents pulled him back. The Chihuahua bared his teeth at me, foam dripping from his black lips. "Well, son," the fat lady sighed. "If you insist." Ice started forming in my stomach. "Urn, did you just call that Chihuahua your son?" "Chimera, dear," the fat lady corrected. "Not a Chihuahua. It's an easy mistake to make." She rolled up her denim sleeves, revealing that the skin of her arms was scaly and green. When she smiled, I saw that her teeth were fangs. The pupils of her eyes were sideways slits, like a reptile's. The Chihuahua barked louder, and with each bark, it grew. First to the size of a Doberman, then to a lion. The bark became a roar. The little boy screamed. His parents pulled him back toward the exit, straight into the park ranger, who stood, paralyzed, gaping at the monster. The Chimera was now so tall its back rubbed against the roof. It had the head of a lion with a blood-caked mane, the body and hooves of a giant goat, and a serpent for a tail, a ten-foot-long diamondback growing right out of its shaggy behind. The rhinestone dog collar still hung around its neck, and the plate-sized dog tag was now easy to read: CHIMERA-RABID, FIRE-BREATHING, POISONOUS-IF FOUND, PLEASE CALL TARTARUS-EXT. 954. I immediately pulled out my knife. And waited for the moment to jump in front of Percy who was ten feet away from the Chimera's bloody maw, and I knew that as soon as I moved, the creature would lunge. The snake lady made a hissing noise that might've been laughter. "Be honored, Percy Jackson and Y/N L/N. Lord Zeus rarely allows me to test a hero with one of my brood. For I am the Mother of Monsters, the terrible Echidna!" Percy and I stared at each other for a second stared at her. All he could think to say was: "Isn't that a kind of anteater?" She howled, her reptilian face turning brown and green with rage. "I hate it when people say that! I hate Australia! Naming that ridiculous animal after me. For that, Percy Jackson, my son shall destroy you!" The Chimera charged, its lion teeth gnashing. I managed to take Percy's arm to pull him aside and dodge the bite. We ended up next to the family and the park ranger, who were all screaming now, trying to pry open the emergency exit doors. I couldn't let them get hurt. I positioned myself able to parry any oncoming attack. Percy uncapped his sword, ran to the other side of the deck, and yelled, "Hey, Chihuahua!" The Chimera turned faster than I would've thought possible. Before he could swing my sword, it opened its mouth, emitting a stench like the world's largest barbecue pit, and shot a column of flame straight at him. Percy dove through the explosion. The carpet burst into flames; the heat was so intense, I could feel it where I stand and it was like I was in a sauna. Where Percy had been standing a moment before was a ragged hole in the side of the Arch, with melted metal steaming around the edges. Great, I thought. We just blowtorched a national monument. As the Chimera turned, Percy slashed at its neck. That was a fatal mistake. The blade sparked harmlessly off the dog collar. I saw the serpent tail lifted it whipped around and with all I could I ran and raised my knife to block it. Percy tried to jab Riptide into the Chimera's mouth, but the serpent tail wrapped around his ankles and pulled him off balance, and my blade flew out of my hand, spinning out of the hole in the Arch and down toward the Mississippi River. I pulled a weaponless Percy behind me and raised my small one. We backed into the hole in the wall. The Chimera advanced, growling, smoke curling from its lips. The snake lady, Echidna, cackled. "They don't make heroes like they used to, eh, son?" The monster growled. It seemed in no hurry to finish us off now that we were beaten. I glanced at the park ranger and the family. The little boy was hiding behind his father's legs. I had to protect these people. I couldn't just ... die. I was facing a massive, fire-breathing monster and its mother. And I was scared. There was no place else to go, so I stepped to the edge of the hole. Trust our hero. Jump with him. He had sworn to save us. Far, far below, the river glittered. Percy and I shared a reluctant and fearful look. If we died, would the monsters go away? Would they leave the humans alone? "If you are the son of Poseidon," Echidna hissed, "you would not fear water. Jump, Percy Jackson. Show me that water will not harm you. Jump and retrieve your sword. Prove your bloodline. Maybe your small friend could survive with you." We both knew the water hated me. But I trusted Percy. I'd jump if he told me. The Chimera's mouth glowed red, heating up for another blast. "Either you have no faith," Echidna told me. "You do not trust the gods. I cannot blame you, little cowards. Better you die now. The gods are faithless." Percy took my hand and backed up, he looked down at the water. Percy looked at me and smiled. I knew what he wanted. Holding his hand tighter, I got closer to him. "Die, faithless one," Echidna rasped, and the Chimera sent a column of flame toward our faces. "Father, please," I heard Percy say. "Don't hurt her. Help us." We turned and jumped. Our clothes on fire, we plummeted toward the river.

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