#myth class ruining my day again

[goldenqingxin]

jason being nearsighted VS zeus’ symbol being eagles because of their insane eyesight ….

this will forever haunt me

#i cant stop thinking about it #jason grace #pjo #my sweet angel darling jason #everything is about him on my stupid blog #myth class ruining my day again #he was never going to have a home in his father’s domain #camp jupiter + CHB werent homes either #will he ever be at home anywhere :( #qingxin loves jason

[fitzrove]

Rambling about Hass in Elisabeth for a REALLY long time. TL;DR - yeah, it is necessary as a song...

Because of the costumes and staging people often just see it as "the antisemitism song", which it is, strongly, but I think sometimes the wider context presented therein is ignored. Really, the song shows how antisemitism and hatred are fuelling and entangled with other movements!!

The nationalists in that song come from various groups and social classes, and identify as their enemies:

Socialists

Pacifists

Jewish writers

Jewish women

"Those who are not like us"

Crown prince Rudolf (because of his - historically strong - friendships and other positive associations with Jews)

The Habsburgs as a whole

Elisabeth and her Heinrich Heine (= a Jewish poet) monument project (which also attracted such strong criticism from German nationalists [Austrian Germans who were nationalists, not "Germans" in the modern sense] historically)

Hungary

The "barons" - so the nobility

The "slavic state"

The ongoing "betrayal of the people"

And to contrast, they identify as good:

Strength ("the strong wins, the weak fails", and also "strong leaders") and "purity"

"Unity"

Glory/splendour ("pracht")

Christian values

"Unified Germany", an alliance with Prussia and even an Anschluss (the joining of Austria and other "ethnically German" [so-called] lands to the German Reich. Hmm does anyone remember who also strove for and eventually implemented this... /s)

The conservative Wilhelm II as emperor (again, they want to join Austria into the German Reich)

So like. There is a glorification of all things "German" and of conservative values (religion) and reactionary power politics ("weakness" was and is by similar groups now considered to be a major flaw of liberalism and a liberal world order - in the song, pacifism and socialism are also connected to it), as exemplified by Wilhelm II's Germany specifically. To contrast, racial enemies ("non-Germans") threatening "racial purity" must be eliminated, with violence if necessary. And the Habsburg monarchy, being a multinational empire, is described as immoral and weak because of it being multinational (and the position of Slavs and Hungarians in politics and imperial administration).

The themes of "betraying the people" (Volksverrat) are especially interesting because the enemies of the nationalists as listed in the song, Jewish women, pacifists and socialists, were also the people blamed for German defeat in WW1 (the "stab in the back" at the home front myth). It's overall 19th and 20th century anti-establishment fascist imagery.

Ajdkkf I don't think I'm clearly making my argument but the song's key functions are:

To dispel the myth of the late 19th century being "the good old days", the glory days of Austria before the world wars somehow magically came to happen and ruined it. In fact, the songs shows that the developments leading to the world wars stem from politics and mass movements of hatred that developed alongside and gave power to & drew power from nationalism in the 19th century

To show the audience exactly what Rudolf is talking about in "Die Schatten werden Länger (reprise)". What is the "evil that is developing"? It's not Rudolf's personal petty wish for more power, or his angst about not being emperor yet, or some generic amorphous disdain for how FJ is reigning; it's not the lack of Hungarian independence either, for god's sake. I will die on this hill, if you cut Hass or replace it with conspiracy or whatever you can cut Rudolf as well, Elisabeth as a show is (in my opinion) a good portrayal of him precisely because it depicts him as a political thinker (in contrast to many depictions and post-Mayerling accounts which diminish that and just talk about Mayerling and his "immorality" - a talking point devised by the nationalists and antisemitists who hated him lol, liberal politics were connected to lack of morality) and someone who, unlike most of his contemporaries, saw that antisemitism, emphasis on "power" and realist power politics, exclusionary/hateful rhetoric and excess nationalism would lead to ruin. AND Hass also shows that he was hated by the German nationalists for this! As was his mother, for her sympathy to Heine...

To connect genuine popular dissatisfaction (from Milch - Hass is a reprise of Milch in terms of rhythm and the call-and-response structure where Lucheni talks to the crowd) with inequality, the lack of democracy and the excesses of royalty... to the rise and presentation of fascism as a "solution"

To show that 19th century nationalism was, in many ways, exclusionary, antisemitic, racist and "war-mongering", and that this rhetoric is old - not somehow magically appearing for WW2 and then disappearing again - and will time and again rise... and that it's everyone's responsibility to recognise it for what it is when it happens, if we are to have a reasonable, decent world to live in.

The framing of Hass sometimes confuses people I will never recover from that one post cancelling Elisabeth das musical for being antisemitic because Hass exists ajiddfkdllfgl what's next, it's pro-suicide and homophobic because a character technically dies from being gay? but to me it's rather clear that it's unsympathetic lol, with the whole doomsday atmosphere (no music, just footsteps/marching and drums and screaming, it's meant to be threatening), the way the ensemble harshly criticises the most sympathetically portrayed characters we have seen so far (Elisabeth and Rudolf) for things that seem petty and harmless (having Jewish friends), and the extremely direct comparison drawn to N*zism (to indicate what such a movement would develop to) in many stagings. I don't know how to say this but somehow I've always assumed that "H*tler and n*zism = evil" is EXTREMELY common knowledge and it mystifies me when people like. Think it should have been stated more clearly in the show. Like, the show is working off the assumption that you know what it is and that it's bad because of the millions and millions of people they killed............. this is EXTREMELY common knowledge in Europe, not least in Germany and Austria lol.

So um yeah akwkldlf, sorry for the ramble, I just feel like the song can be poorly understood and criticised on shaky ground sometimes. I mean, I am not Jewish and not equipped to talk about whether it's triggering or traumatising to watch especially with lived or family experience of antisemitic violence... But I think for non-Jewish people there is a huge responsibility to be aware and vigilant of antisemitism, historically and in the present, and sometimes it needs to be hammered home for people to understand...

By that last point I also somewhat mean... I think you don't "get" to be triggered by it if you're not Jewish but perhaps otherwise affected by politics of hatred. Of course I'm not emotions police lol, but many Jewish people have intergenerational trauma AND have to live with extremely similar antisemitic rhetoric and culture to this day, so there I understand criticisms - and there is also a discussion to be had about how and to what extent it is ok to use and display Jewish suffering as a device to educate non-Jewish people.

But anyway, to my original point. This is something I've seen people say and I just... if you're queer and it makes you uncomfortable to see Hass because modern n*zis hate you and it's traumatic, I mean, it's valid to feel uncomfortable and you can choose not to watch it personally to avoid being triggered, but you don't get to call for it to be erased from the show for "problematic content" or for "escapism" or to make you feel better. It is there because the destruction of the 19th century world, and Rudolf's and Elisabeth's suffering, is intrinsically tied to the rise of such hateful politics and without that being shown there is no show. You don't get to make it something it's not, this show is not ONLY an epic gothic romance with imaginary boyfriend, it's a commentary on past, present and future politics in that it shows the dangers of conservatism, antisemitism, racism and illiberalism. Calling for or supporting censorship, or state emphasis on militarism/"destroying the enemy", or advocating hatred, violence or oppression against any group based on ethnicity, religion, race, political views, etc. are all political stances held by and propagated by various people today in various political contexts. And you are not immune to antisemitism or reactionary nationalism if you're queer or whatever, so you have the constant responsibility to think critically about your worldview and your politics!!

#politics #musicals #theatre

[writingf3]

Did you know that years repeat themselves at a weird pattern, but one of those loops is Every 6 Years? 6 years ago my friend hung herself on Monday the 23th, died on Wednesday the 25th, and I saw her body before organ transplant on Friday the 27th. I always thought that the days of the week just progress by one day each year, like, Halloween sometimes is on Thursday, the next year it'd be on Friday, and so on. But somehow it syncs up every 6 years. This year Monday is the 23rd again and I feel particularly close to her-- find myself wondering if she knew she was going to do it now but 6 years ago, on only the 14th.

There are many things I could say about the ordeal, how a few hours before seeing her body I had to go to the orthodontist because I needed to get my braces off before college and it was very hard to reschedule with him. I remember telling him I was in a hurry and he asked if I had any fun plans and I thought about saying "I have to go see my friends dead body" but I ended up saying nothing. I could talk about how none of our parents drove us two hours to the hospital so we crammed in our rich friend's new Mercedes that she could barely drive, and on the way home we were so in shock and so distraught that she drove on the wrong side of the freeway and we almost got in a head on collision. Even at the time it was funny-- we were starving, hadn't eaten in a week and decided to go to a buffet instead of arguing about different types of food-- and we sat at the table and picked at the soups and salads and laughed about the imaginary headlines: "5 friends dead driving home from seeing their friend's dead body."

There's an incredible rawness in these moments, us laughing a the table when only an hour previously we were holding her dead hand, our eyes swollen, no way to grasp at all that this was the situation we were in except to simply bare it. There were so many weird, cheesy-highschool-movie scenes that year. Me, sitting in english class the morning after hearing the news, the popular girls whispering that they wish they knew what happened, me practically feeling the camera zoom in, the dramatic lighting, an acknowledgement that I knew exactly what had happened and they didn't. Being excited that I found my funeral dress for $5 on sale at Holister, being revolted by the outfit they had decided she'd wear in the coffin. The pastor saying people who commit suicide don't necessarily all go to hell, and laughing because I had never even heard that myth before. Watching 13 Reasons Why, which had just come out, because I was too numb to feel the plot that I had basically just lived through. Visiting her grave on prom night, long silhouettes of dresses against the grass, getting back in the car and resuming the dance music.

It's easy to wallow in the misery of grief and less easy to talk about the other emotions-- the laughter and anger-- though they're certainly experienced in tandem. My last conversation with her was about using bandaids as pasties, and now I think about her every time I do that. I wore that $5 dress to my high school graduation and to my college graduation because she was the only reason I got good grades to begin with, we were horribly competitive, but she killed herself the day before her Princeton Admissions interview. I have to love her yet simultaneously live with the fact that she ruined all of my important milestones, prom, both graduations, and that I can blame her yet can't in any logical sense, this was something she never could have foreseen, her 17 year old brain clearly not working correctly to begin with. I don't feel guilty about this anger, though. She was my friend and not a saint, and I find myself feeling angry at her as if she was yelling at me in track practice (which she often did-- "I'm going to die" "No you're not, you need to go faster.") The guilt I did develop was a sense of survivors guilt. She was only the second of my three friends who killed themselves, and I often wonder why I haven't done it myself, wonder how I survived whatever was happening in my town socioeconomically. When people bring up their high school jobs I have to fight the urge to tell them that the only person I knew with a job in high school killed herself, that all of us were so focused on grades and internships and clubs and sports that when she added that last element it was too much, she had gone too fast.

6 years later, I guess, a perfect daily match, though there is an invisible threshold I'll never know, the turning point of when it switched from suicidal ideation to active suicidality. I can live in the 23rd-27th but I can't live in the present moment, can't know when or what she thought about right now, just 6 years prior. And I'm angry about this, angry about the 23rd-27th, angry that any of this had to happen at all, wish she would have spoken up, wish an adult had noticed, wish everything had been different entirely.

[margridarnauds]

100 Days of Productivity:

9/05/2022: 3/100

- Read Hartly’s “James Bond, A Grifter, A Video Avatar, and a Shark Walk into King Arthur's Court: The Ever-Expanding Canon of Cinema Arthuriana” -- the only academic article you will ever read where Sharknado is discussed alongside Le Morte d’Arthur; Sullivan, Cinema Arthuriana without Malory?: The International Reception of Fuqua, Franzoni, and Bruckheimer's King Arthur (2004); Aronstein, “Let’s Not Go to Camelot”: Deconstructing Myth” (which succeeded in convincing me further that Monty Python did it better, in all seriousness). 

- A central problem I’m noting, which is to be expected, is that published scholarship hasn’t always kept up as quickly as new films are churned out -- a number of the major essay collections were done in the 1990s or early 2000s, which leaves a huge chunk of recent Arthurian adaptations under-analyzed. I’m going to have to go outside my uni library to hunt for nicher articles. A lot of this is likely going to be relegated to one very long footnote, but it bolsters the argument and will help ground me in Arthurian film criticism. 

- Structure still a problem. I’m hoping I’ll find it somewhere in-between the sources I’m looking at and the ones I’ve ordered. 

- Practiced Latin vocab -- with Quizlet putting their learning section behind a membership lock, I’m trying to hit the matching game as hard as I can because, since the words are randomly selected, probability says that there’s a large number I’m missing. 

- Reread class material for one class, took notes, jotted down questions. 

- Read a chapter of Ó Catháin’s The Festival of Brigit -- Interesting, under-studied premise with valuable material that’s ruined by the author’s wild speculations. I never want to read about the sexual implications of butter churning or the cosmological implications of the number four and how they both somehow relate to St. Brigit’s crosses ever again. But. Reading. Knowledge. Important. 

- Overall, not bad for a day that I knew was going to be a slow day. 

#raf100dop

[laura-apexart]

DAY 6 7.13.23

Performing arts workshop at a beautiful library Cultural Center and Public Library Julio Mario Santo Domingo—1 hr north from chapinero area by public transit. A 2 hour class-first hour discussion in Spanish, I did my best to understand, 2nd hour we played games and ended with scenario skits-i had taken some improv classes in grad school so was somewhat familiar with the games and physical warmup exercises, changing levels, walking around the room making eye contact to play with status and power dynamics and also passing a ball around while moving through space , in different directions and speeds, pushing oneself around on the floor on all fours etc. fun, weird, liberating, again had a swell of emotions . Then we broke into groups of three and had to perform a skit where there was a mediator, a vendor and a foreigner who spoke gibberish. I was the foreigner who spoke none-sense but ultimately was too timid and defaulted to physical movement and performance so our skit was “a total failure” . The scenario was that a women was try to sell me a stool with an opening in the center to put herbs in and sit on to steam my uterus-an indigenous ritual-and I was supposed to be totally confused and I guess I got to timid and went kinda mute because I was totally confused or way too self conscious!

But still played along and was reminded how much I love physical improvisation and these sorts of group games -though language is so hard! I think even if it had been in English, I still would have had a hard time speaking, vocalizing. Maybe I need to take some voice lessons.

Then went to see Kachimba and the bagpipes, with "The Myth of Water" an urban group of bagpipes from the Colombian Caribbean-I went to the ideartes building but the performance was happening 10 min away at Teatro Municipal Jorge Eliécer Gaitán, outside swells of emotions again -maybe like wow how did I get here! Nice to be outside in beautiful weather and submit to the music , wind instruments and maracas and lots of dance, very joyful!

Missed The Tower and The Net class because the timing did not work out--by the time the concert was over it was already 5:20 and the Library was at least 30 min walk / drive away--Bogota traffic is heavy!

Dinner at WOK with Marthin -local contact set up

Supper interesting-had just come back from Gorgona island (named after snakes) small island off the Colombian pacific coast, Colombia site of an old prison-now in ruins–-where there was no internet and he was working with biologists doing field work, going out at night to capture the frogs and lizards ( endemic to Colombia)  in their sleep to study-bc they have a strange fungus? Maybe remembering incorrectly–and are at risk of going extinct and can provide insights into the changing ecosystem. He is doing his PhD in (bio) art and conservation in Vienna but now living in Bogota (where he grew up) and also collaborates with various researchers and works on curatorial projects. A well of information and interests–very fun to speak to him about his projects.

#Laura Bernstein

[jedijourneys]

Kallia’s Journal; Entry One

Days have passed, stars sweeping, glistening through ebony skies, drifting clouds like tattered wisps amidst the vibrant sky. Tython is more than I could have ever expected. The temple glows beneath the sun, a grand structure that inspires a sense of hope, a swelling desire to serve a nobler purpose in this life. How fitting that it should be a beacon of the light, for an order that strives for just that.

I have heard stories of the Jedi, of course, legends and myths, the powerful sorcerers with weapons known as lightsabers that could cut through everything. When I toyed with visions of what meeting a Jedi might be like, I always pictured knights in shining armor, wielding blades that glowed like moonlight. They were honorable, heroic protectors of the weak and vulnerable, and for much of my life, I wanted nothing more than to be like them. To see so many suffering on Tatooine, hungry, hot, and desperate. They deserved better. The galaxy deserved better. But when I dreamed of being a Jedi, I never asked for my family to be butchered by pirates. I never asked for my home to be burned to the ground. I never wanted to look at my reflection and see a scorched remnant of a past that will never be forgotten. I was told that the Force works in many ways, that I was guided to that knight in the desert to fight for those less fortunate than I, to insure that no other family would lie in flaming ruins because of some selfish Dug in an alley.

I will admit, the first few weeks were hard. I wanted justice. That Dug was a murderer. A monster. He needed to die. But time and time again, I was told that there was no justice in what I wanted. Vengeance was not the way, and killing that slimy shopkeeper wouldn't bring my family back. It wouldn't make me feel any better. Maybe they're right, I don't know. Will I ever know? So many promises about the force, about defending the innocent, about becoming that hero I had always dreamed the Jedi would be. Some days I just feel uncertain. But on others, I have no doubt that this was right. The Jedi are my family now. They will help me overcome all that I have witnessed. They will give me a purpose again.

I want nothing more than to be the best Jedi Knight I can be.

Some of the others in the temple may consider me a bit impatient, bold and willing to face the galaxy head on. Can they blame me? Look out at the stars and see the chaos that blankets the life of every living being. The galaxy is a frightening place. But I hope to insure that one day, it won't be so scary anymore. Maybe it's all a fool's hope, and I shouldn't put so much weight on becoming a Jedi. What if I fail out of training? I listened studiously to one of my first classes today, and the trials were mentioned. I don't know what the trials will entail for me. It seems to be one big secret. But I worry about what I'll do if I fail to complete them. But I won't. I can't. I'll be ready for whatever the Order throws at me. I have to be.

I won't let my family down. I won't let myself down. No matter how difficult things may become, I have to try.

#kallia

[slavghoul]

Hi slavghoul! First of all, I'm a big fan of yours, always a pleasure to read you. You talked earlier this day about some reviewer talking about "Darkness at the heart of my love", which review or interview is that? I can't find it. Thanks <3

Thank you kindly! :))) Yes I haven't posted it yet. It is also from Sweden Rock. A very good review too - 9/10. The nitty gritty, that is, the song descriptions, are towards the middle of the text.

---

Tobias Forge is undeniably a skilled communicator. Ghost is all about grand gestures, gigantic megalomania and a confidence that only a madman can match. It's easy to lose your breath even before the music takes over. Or as Papa Emeritus IV sings in the brilliant Watcher In The Sky - "Communication is key". Yes, no question about it. The key to skilful storytelling is to build the myth of yourself so that everyone gets the joke. With that attitude, you can get as far as you want.

In the book "The Rule Of Empires: Those Who Built Them, Those Who Endured Them, And Why They Always Fall", author Timothy Parsons, professor of history at St Louis University, takes the approach of exploring how ordinary people experienced imperial rule. Narratively, of course, there is an endless stream of inspiration to be drawn from the subject. I've read bits and pieces of the book and opinions differ among those who have experienced and endured a life ruled from the top by the high and mighty. The satisfaction of seeing them plunged into the abyss is undeniably there.

Creating an album in that context doesn't just mean looking back in history. Our present is tainted by stubborn powers that squirm with childishness at the slightest insult. It's an ongoing contest about who is perceived as the biggest, best and most beautiful. The book has been an inspiration for Tobias Forge's latest reincarnation of his satanic pope and his minions - Nameless Ghouls.

In Sweden Rock Magazine, of course, Papa Emeritus IV is the behemoth - bigger than all the world's leaders. Just check out the cover of this magazine. It's panache from head to toe. Or why not analyse the cover of the new album "Impera"? The papal statue has proportions on a par with the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower. Looking to the left, the surrounding buildings seem minimalist by comparison. Delusions of grandeur - check.

So, after the ravages of Black Death on 2018's "Prequelle", it's time to put back the papal robes and run through the historical ruins of the empires. And it is an absolutely fantastic journey that, after the tired consequences of the pandemic, can now finally be experienced. There's virtually not a trace here of the trite gestures found in the song disappointments "Kiss The Go-Goat" and "Mary On A Cross", released on the single "Seven Inches Of Satanic Panic" in 2019. It feels amazingly good that they were just parentheses. The problem with them was that they lacked context. They were loosely woven compositions without a whole to lean on. Ghost is an album band and needs a setting. And with one, the result is as transformative as it is unusual. Music, production, cover and performance - absolute world class.

First comes “Kaisarion” and right away we are transposed back to the 80s. "Spillways" continues with a tinkling piano, soaring guitars and of course a melody to hang tons of weight on. It's easy to get sucked into the volatile arrangements. The first single "Call Me Little Sunshine" quickly materialized into a pitch-black mid-tempo song to be loved straight through. The little gritty guitar interludes are magical in their simplicity.

In the context of empires crumbling like houses of cards, "Hunter's Moon" can be seen as the black sheep of the album. But put the song, part of the soundtrack to the 2021 film "Halloween Kills," in the sick context of Michael Myers, and it perfectly fits the cock-of-the-walk attitude as well. Again, a song that stands with at least half its body in the 80s.

It's about here that things get really hot in Tobias Forge's empire factory. The aforementioned "Watcher In The Sky" is a hit of gigantic proportions. Chugging guitars and a chorus well worthy of someone with world domination as a goal. Right on the mark. "Twenties" is an odd bird that breaks off the beat and tone quite considerably - a bit like "Cirice" does on "Meliora" (2015). Variety is good for you.

"Darkness At The Heart Of My Love" is the album’s big ballad that will hug you until you're a puddle of tears on the floor, then the Van Halen pastiche "Griftwood” recharges your batteries. Join us for another trip back to the decade most of us adore anyway.

If you're still down on the floor, it's time to get up and fuel up for the grand finale. In 'Respite On The Spitalfields', Forge is firing on all cylinders. The song is to Ghost what "Still Of The Night" is to Whitesnake. Sultry and utterly wonderful. As the guitars ride out in the song's final seconds, several planets align just right. Like I said, world class and an impressive nine. Second in a row, too.

/Original Swedish text by Jonathan Strandlund

#impera #the band ghost

[antiloreolympus]

7 Anti LO Asks

1. Do you know what really gets my blood boiling about this comic? Persephone and Demeter's relationship.

In the myths, Demeter and Persephone loved each other more than anything. Their reunion is so important - it marked the coming of spring and growth. A whole cult was dedicated to this for crying out loud. Yes, the myths were far from perfect, but the Persephone and Demeter myth showed the strength of a loving mother-daughter relationship with Demeter searching endlessly to find her child that was ripped away and had her innocence forcibly taken.

Now, RS is not the only author to make Demeter this over-bearing mother type in order to put more positivity onto the Hades-Persephone relationship. However, RS takes this trend to a whole new level - to the point where I would even consider it misogyny.

How is it, she takes this beautiful mother-daughter relationship and makes it out to be an abusive and controlling one, and then takes the Hades-Persephone relationship from a forceful one to a loving, perfect relationship with no problems? How is it ok to ruin one relationship to elevate another?

I understand that many versions of the myth try to downplay Hades' actions, and even make it so Persephone actually falls in love with him and there is no rape. But it doesn't change that this relationship was problematic, and meant to represent the loss of innocence.

Then fans have the gall to claim this comic is feminist and then claim on top of that that Demeter and Persephone's relationship was the same in the myth? These fans clearly don't know the myths, and neither does RS.

Making Hades a good person is fine. Changing it up a bit to make Persephone's loss of innocence something else is also fine. But ruining Demeter and Persephone's relationship? Especially when Persephone has to spend half the year with her? So horrible. 

2. im sorry, but rachel cant introduce KRONOS coming back and then dropping it for several episodes to focus on a stake-less trail and persephone not knowing what lingerie to seduce hades in. like thats too much of an earth shaking development and huge stake plot point to just ignore for months to focus instead on something as minor as hxp's relationship, which only points out a huge flaw: why is hxp's relationship so minor in this? isnt the whole point supposed to be about them?

3. I think LO completely dropped the ball over Hades’ characterization. 

From the first ep I thought ok, this is good, we have some bones to see he’s not that lucky in love and is just tired and lonely, and while ignoring the creepy actions towards Persephone, I thought ok, Artemis hates him, Hestia hates, even Ares hates him, maybe once Persephone finally sees the underworld and probably gets to know him it’ll be a clever twist and they’ll be proven wrong. The underworld will turn out to be fair and just, the citizens will love Hades, he’ll be revealed to be a good leader and king and not like his brothers, it’ll be like everyone saying Hades of myth isn’t actually that bad, and it’ll help reinforce why this sweet and bubbly Persephone wants him, she sees the real him, not the mean rumors and assumptions, this is perfect.

And then it just didn’t happen. The exact opposite happened, actually.

We’re shown the LO underworld is cruel and unjust, where the poor dead are forced into slavery and Hades created a harsh class divide with him and him only on top, the citizens hate him, the underworld gods don’t trust him and openly seem ok if he’s taken out of power, he’s not a good leader and king and doesn’t even want the job yet keeps it for his own ego and grip of power m, and on top of it all he is just like his brothers, if not worse. He loves to get violent over any little slight against him, he hoards wealth and resources to enrich himself while his citizens starve and struggle to survive, he’s corrupt, he controls all the media and laws to bend to his will, sleeps with his brothers wife for centuries behind his back while claiming to be holier than thou, he has sex with his secretaries who are made dependent on him for any way to survive, and now he lusts after his barely legal intern who is also now dependent on him for her way to survive, and that’s only what I remember off the top of my head.

LO perfectly set up to prove Hades isn’t the devil or the false pop culture assumption that he’s evil and to show some actual facts from myth, and yet Rachel only ended up reinforcing exactly that and even making him even worse with her made up ideas, all while thinking having Persephone ignore or excuse it somehow makes it not bad or even a good thing. It’s honestly kind of impressive just how bad of writing that actually is. 

4. Chapter 172 is not that interesting. It’s setup had me excited to see Hephaestus and Hera and learning more about echo, but it’s cut so short. Because again the story can’t leave HXP out for 2 seconds.

I can also see why Zeus is gonna go insane. 

5. i agree w/ other anon. LO should have pulled a PJO or a BoZ and just made up OCs and have them interact with the gods than whatever Rachel thinks shes doing, which is lying she's being accurate and faithful while completely changing all of it, removing what is needed, and adding what isnt so that it lines up with no actual myth besides like, various 50 shades fanfic she read in 2015 and some popular tumblr text posts.

6 . the animation studio behind blood of zeus literally can only draw one face for the men and one face for the women and they were still able to make the gods all look distinct and hot while LO can't even bother to use more than 6 colors and can only have the women look as tiny as possible with the biggest boobs while the men are all just lego men.

7. ////FP SPOILERS////

Okay so like I stopped reading LO way back before season 1 ended, and a majority of my knowledge of the series comes from what I read here on your blog which is enough for me lol and I decided to read the latest 5 chapters just to see what's up (on zahard. I refuse to give the actual series any views)

And I just. Could not take the whole scene with Daphne running from Apollo seriously? The anatomy and art inconsistency was so distracting that i genuinely could not find it serious. Even when Thanatos discovers her hibernated body I couldn't take it seriously because of how she looked?

And when Hades had that call (??? Was it a call? Or his inner dialogue? I couldn't really tell ngl) with Zeus and said he's causing Persephone unnecessary distress, and that she didn't pose any threat. B!tch??? She killed a ton of mortals??? She has no control over her powers???? She's literally a fugitive for the aforementioned things??? She apparently woke Kronos up? (Idk if anyone knows about that, again my knowledge only spans to whatever I read here) Hello????

And I have a lot to say about the chapters starting the trial but I'll only mention one thing; Hades saying "I don't think blindly supporting my little brother would be doing him any favours (as a ruler)" had me cackling. This is coming from a guy blindly supporting a girl he's literally only known for a few weeks, who's like what, only recently turned 20? Sit tf down Hades you're not cool, you creepy ass overgrown smurf.

Overall I still hate this series lmao. Regarding art though I feel like I wouldn't be so miffed about the anatomy much if the character designs were consistent and the story was compelling. They literally change hairstyles and body types frame by frame, and it's distracting.

The timeline from what I read here is laughable. 4 years in publication with almost 200 chapters and you're telling me only like a month has passed canonically. That's wild and such poor writing.

And as someone who literally will sympathise with any lead character pretty quickly, the story makes me hate them. It makes me want to root against them. I also hate the fact this trash is somehow top ranked on webtoons when so many other stories are far better then it.

Anyway, many thanks to this blog for existing and allowing me to dump so much text here to vent out my hate for this series lmao. You the mvp fam, hope you're having a good day 🥂🥂🥂

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

[notnctu]

cupid’s arrow - h.rj | 7 days

━ sweet greetings from the 7 days fluff series 

genre ❥ slight angst, fluff !!  details ❥ college!au, friends to lovers!au, genderneutral!reader ━ where renjun makes a bet to get you to fall in love with him.  warnings ❥ explicit language, light banter word count ❥ 7.1k  synopsis ❥ The silly boy has no idea what he’s gotten himself into when he makes a bet with his arrogant friend to get you to fall in love with him. Renjun never intends to confess, mainly because his past unrequited loves have demolished his confidence. So a low stakes gamble causes him a great deal of stress and pride, wishing that it was as easy as striking you with Cupid’s Arrow. While he wants your feelings to develop organically, he actually doesn’t know what he’d do if you did end up liking him back. Because to him, you have always been someone unattainable and out of his reach  taglist ❥ @yourmagnanimousholiness​ ; @lovelycharm05​ ; @watermelonxes​ ; @jaehyunsjasmine​ ; @mjlkau​​ <3

a/n ❥ this is author doie ❀!! uhh this came out a little more angsty than i had planned it to be.. anyways its been a long time coming and we’re still working on the requests hehehe uhh keep an eye out for some blog updates bc we are starting school soon :) thanks for sticking with us so far! lots of love for everyone<3

Huang Renjun catches a glimpse of your enchanting figure across the lecture hall and how you effortlessly slide into your usual seat near the front. The tap against the tiny turnout table with your pen, ruffling your hair to only have it fall back in place beautifully, and aura alone suffocates him.

In a three hundred person lecture, all he sees is you. The only person in the room who has his undivided attention and while it might be entirely infatuation by your attractiveness, the mutual friends you two share describe you having a heart of gold.

A heart that is impenetrable. Strong, sturdy, shining metal that no one has been able to get through, but Renjun thinks that it’s because you can tell someone is undeserving. Keen and observant eyes, it’s a good thing that his stares don’t linger for long.

As he walks down the descending steps to sit in the row behind you, he remembers a very drunk night over the past weekend and an idiotic bet that has him punching himself. He wishes that he never agreed, but the liquid pride in him could not bite his tongue.

“(Y/N)?” His friend scorns and Renjun slaps his forehead at the slip of your name. Truthfully, the alcohol is messing with his head and he’s saying things that are no longer in his control. But how could he have possibly let the one secret he holds to himself out into the small crowd.

He mumbles profanities underneath his breath, trying to limit light from hurting his blurry vision, and rubbing his throbbing temples. “Yes, (Y/N).” There is no confidence in his voice at the whisper of your name.

“Dude, (Y/N) is way out of your league.” The headache just doesn’t have an end. He knows this; there is no way you’d ever bat an eyelash at him first. Renjun just likes things that are impossible to him, a poor habit of his.

“I bet I could get (Y/N) to get with me first before you ever can.” Then, Renjun’s eyes shoot open wide and the view of the arrogance laughing in the dimness slowly boils his blood.

Renjun may seem like the weaker link to pick on, but he is not one to give up a fight. While his friend has an advantage, the last thing Renjun would want is for you to fall for a horrendous two faced personality.

He’ll charm your pants off and when he gets what he wants: the victory and your vulnerability, he’ll hurt you. Would you be able to see past his fake genuineness or actually fall for the person he plays so well? Renjun can’t let anyone hurt you if he can prevent it.

“I bet that I can get (Y/N) to fall in love with me.” Renjun stumbles to stand up proudly, making himself bolder and more intimidating. Nevertheless, the drowsiness intoxicates him and he can barely keep his line of vision focused.

He sees the disgusting smirk on his friend’s face and a hand extends out for Renjun to shake. “Okay. Let’s bet on it. If you can’t get (Y/N) to fall in love with you, they’ll be mine and you can’t speak to them ever again.”

“Nice use of claiming someone who barely knows you exist.” The alcohol didn’t take away Renjun’s sharp sarcasm and the constant rolling of his eyes.

Renjun truly has no confidence at the game he decided to engage in, his only motive is to protect you from a bad guy. He wouldn’t even know how to handle the potential chance that you could like him back, did you have the ability to do so?

He never had the intention to confess to you, his heart has been broken all too much already by unrequited loves from his past. And if he had to be honest with himself, his admiration for you has become so strong that even he’s afraid to be someone to taint it.

What are the odds that the entire row behind you is already filled? Renjun’s throat closes when he sees the empty seat right next to you and the professor starting up his presentation. Other students push past him to hurry into empty seats before lecture begins, and his own feet pick him up toward you.

Like a magnetic pull, you attract him with an inexplicable force so naturally. Clearing his throat, he swallows the anxiousness that blocks him from speaking. 

“Is this seat taken?”

This is it. This is the first of many looks you two will share, and Renjun’s heart pounds at his chest to wait for your eyes to meet his own for more than a second.

As if the room falls silent and everything is in slow motion, Renjun captures the very image when you blink up at him with beautiful dazzling gentleness and the utter sugar of your lips curling upwards. And he’s stunned, hoping it doesn’t show on his face.

“No.” It’s a simple reply and nothing worth jumping out of joy about, but he tries so hard to hold back the growing smile of your acknowledgement. You are being polite, but something inside of him feels giddy and like static running through his veins.

“Thanks.” Dropping his bag, he enters the seat carefully and sits with his hands folded together on the tiny table.

You examine the attentive boy, as his focus is trained on the lecture slides and the unprepared professor messing with his mic. Chuckling, “you don’t take notes?”

Renjun is surprised at your sudden interaction, completely blindsided by your friendliness. He wasn’t sure how well that would have worked, but your curiosity speaks for you. “I actually forgot my laptop today.” The heavy device sits in his bag at his feet, but he doesn’t dare take it out after the lie.

The soft ‘oh’ that falls from your mouth is too cute and Renjun clears his throat to bring him back from his daydreams of you. Looking apologetic, he shrugs and pretends to gear his attention back to the professor, who finally starts the long awaited class.

“I can send you my notes for the day, if you’d like.” The kindness in your voice does not go unnoticed, in fact, it causes Renjun to hold onto it for a little longer to fuel his undying crush for you.

“I’d love that—” Perhaps he shouldn’t have used the word love for the strictly friendly gesture. “—you’re a lifesaver. Uh, how should I refer to you as?” Playing dumb is his only way to get to you, for now.

“(Y/N). And you?” You hand your phone toward him with social media popped up to input his user handle.

Renjun introduces himself as his sweaty fingers type, and he wonders if he should have polished up any photos that may have you steering away from him. However when he returns your device, the smile that lights up your face allows him to breathe easily.

“I knew you sounded familiar. You’re friends with Jaemin, right?” Your whisper grows soft as you multitask to make conversation and jot down a few important bullet points from the slides. Renjun tries hard to dissect the information as well, but the boring tone of his professor is nothing compared to his crush finally having conversation with him.

“We’re housemates along with two other people.” His body is able to relax now that he’s broken the wall of introductions. You carry yourself to be more intimidating than you actually are.

When he peeks back over at your concentrated expression, your lip is hidden by your top row of teeth and your quick eyes dart between the monitor and your page. How are you so good at literally everything?

“A small world.” He picks up your every word, “well Renjun, since this class has basically ruined my life, would it be too much to ask if you’re down to study with me?” And despite the fluorescent lights being absolutely dull, they still dust your eyes with an enticing glitter.

He must have been staring for too long because you start your sentence of doubt, but Renjun stammers over his response. The professor isn’t quite happy with the small overlap of chatter and shoots a glare at the two of you.

That’s definitely not a good way to start, but it’s memorable. Renjun motions for your pen, and scribbles in his own font the answer to your offer:

I’d love that :)

Then, his heart soars back into the clouds once again at the grin that settles and your written response:  

Me too <3

How does one get someone to fall for them? If Renjun knew, he wouldn’t still be single and infatuated with someone too good for him. He wishes that it’s as simple as the myths make it out to be, where all Cupid had to do was draw his bow and launch a loving arrow that pierces through the heart — an instant love.

But playing Cupid himself is harder than anticipated. He has no handy tools to assist him with his goals. He just has himself, lacks luster and is invisible. Can he be more painfully boring?

And he looks at you with literal hearts in his eyes. An excitement that awaits him, the true meaning of a head turner. That is you. And all he can offer is his mere presence.

“So how did you and Jaemin meet?” Looking up from your blinding laptop screen, Renjun feels the light tap underneath the table from your foot. He chuckles at the subtly adorable affection, and your own way of showing it.

This has to be the third round of study sessions you two shared, and bit by bit, he falls more and more for you despite it needing to be the other way around. The captivating get-to-know you conversation of favorites all down to your aspirations and goals.

The intelligence of you, your wisdom, your perspective. While he did not have this insight before, knowing it now only makes you more alluring. He can’t believe you’re even sitting with him in his shared living room, just the two of you.

“We met at orientation. He’s persistent.” Renjun laughs lightly and you smile in return, nodding along with his statement.

“Wish I met you guys at orientation. I was never the one to reach out to people first until college forced me out of my shell.” He hopes his ears didn’t deceive him, but Renjun had to do a double take: you said you guys, which includes him, right? You wish you had met him earlier?

But the latter shocks him a bit. If he recalls your first meeting, you were the one curious enough to continue speaking to him. “I would have never guessed.”

“Really?” There is a notable light in your eyes as you tilt your head. “I don’t seem shy?”

“Not at all…” He has to stop himself from going on an incredible tangent about how greatly outspoken you are, it gives away too much on how observant he’s been.  

“I’m good at hiding it then.” You examine the soft shade of pink on the tips of his ears and his averting shy gazes. “What are you good at hiding?”

Your question leaves him speechless and gripping at any ends of answers. There are a number of ways he can go about it, but the truth is not one of them.

What is he good at hiding? His unconditional affection for you. He’s good at concealing every heavy heart beat at your smallest actions. He’s good at keeping a regretful secret bet.

But as those options pop into his head, he doesn’t want to say any of them. So, he opts for a white lie instead and hopes that the hesitation doesn’t sell him out for being a nervous wreck.

“I’m good at hiding what I fear.” You blink at him, clearly intrigued to want to know more.

“You do seem pretty fearless, Huang Renjun.” There is a brief exchange of eye contact and Renjun swears that his pounding heart can be heard in the silence. A smirk on your lips as you return to your work, he’s warm inside from the usage of his full name. And you don’t even realize the effect you have over him.

“So, you and (Y/N) are close. How did that start?” Jaemin jumps onto Renjun’s neatly made bed. The covers are now ruffled and tossed from the impact.

Jaemin isn’t home very often, but in the rare times he has been, it’s always during the study sessions with you. The first time you came over, Jaemin tried not to talk up a storm from seeing a familiar face. He respects Renjun’s relationships, so he tried his best to keep from prying at the boy.

“You finally want to know?” Renjun scoffs lightheartedly, punching his housemate lightly on the shoulder as he swivels around in his chair. With an excited wide smile, Jaemin tugs at his friend’s arm as an endearing sign of persistence. “Okay, okay. We have the same class.”

“(Y/N) really approached you in a three hundred student lecture?” A tone of disbelief settles in Jaemin’s rhetorical question. He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for Renjun to tell some truth.

“Not exactly. I sat next to them and a conversation just happened.” Renjun shrugs as if it’s nothing big, as if it hadn’t been for your curiosity that started this blossoming relationship.

“Spare me the details.” Jaemin sits up to hold Renjun by his shoulders. The pressure feels oddly crushing, like a whole weight dropping on him. Jaemin stares him dead in the eyes. “What are your motives, Huang Renjun?”

His mouth hangs slightly open from the question. “I can’t be friends with (Y/N)?” Almost defensively, Renjun furrows his eyebrows at his friend, but he can tell Jaemin has caught onto his lie.

“I heard that you made a bet with a certain shithead.” Jaemin rolls his eyes at remembering their horrible mutual, a crime to even consider him as a friend. He drops his heavy hands from Renjun’s shoulders and falls back onto the mattress.  

The alarming expression of grave danger, Renjun is screwed. He gulps the gathered saliva in the back of his mouth, searching for a plausible explanation. “I was drunk.” He slaps his forehead at the stupid reasoning as Jaemin shoots upright to begin scolding him.

“Let me explain,” Renjun covers his mouth to halt Jaemin’s excessive nagging. “I like (Y/N), that’s how the bet even came alive. I slipped up and then he was saying all this stuff about (Y/N) being out of my league.”

“Which is true.” Jaemin adds, quite muffled but doesn’t slip past Renjun.

Renjun glares and thanks him sarcastically. “I made the bet to protect (Y/N) from him. He was provoking me by saying that he can get (Y/N) first and since I was heavily intoxicated, I didn’t think before I spoke.”

Jaemin holds Renjun warmly, seeing that his friend needed a hug from the saddened memory. It’s all too obvious how regretful Renjun feels. “So I’m trying my best at carrying the bet because there’s too much at stake.”

A chill runs down his spine remembering the consequences. He just can’t fail. Jaemin pulls away and lightly pats Renjun’s hair. “Cupid has made you into a fool for your crush.”

“He’s made me into a bigger one for thinking I could get my crush to like me back.” Renjun sighs in defeat and groans loudly. Why does this frustrate him so much? Perhaps it’s the lack of ability to actually get someone to like him back.

Renjun has been single for his entire life, not by choice. He’s done the movie cliches of a confession: a bouquet of roses, a poster, a night under the stars. And not one has ever accepted his feelings. He doesn’t blame any of them since he still struggles with finding things to love about himself. What is there to love about him? He can’t seem to find any redeeming qualities worth mentioning.

But you. You, alone, is simply worth an honorable mention. And now that it’s been well over a month of your friendship, he can confirm that you’re everything he’s ever wanted and more.

“Why don’t you start by being (Y/N)’s friend first? Love doesn’t just happen in an instant, no offense to Cupid or anything. I mean.. isn’t it all just a myth anyways?” Jaemin picks Renjun’s falling chin and he can see the glossy eyes of sadness. They swim with frustration and guilt.

Like an epiphany, Jaemin gave Renjun a starting place. For weeks, Renjun racked his brain for an easy solution out of it all. In reality, he didn’t need any wicked form of magic for foul play. He just wants to be by your side for as long as you allow. And a part of him is scared for you to like him back.

You’ve always been too out of his reach. Standing on a pedestal, you’re something unattainable. It’s lucky that you even bat an eyelash at him. He’s admired you all too much, Renjun won’t actually know what to do if you ever did like him back.

This all stems from his inner insecurities, like a recurring thought: what is there to like about him? Or is he even good enough for you?

If someone had warned him that love could become this confusing, he would’ve sacrificed his heart for something less complicated. To feel. To love. Renjun wishes he can remove the love bow that pierced through his chest.

On a random Friday night, Renjun’s phone rings with an unexpected caller ID. He pauses the song he’s been listening to for the past hour to pick up.

“Renjun! I’m sad and drunk right now.” Your voice is incredibly slurred and he can barely hear you with the loud background noise. “Can you come pick me up?”

“Are you over on Third Ave. again?” He despises that place. A house on the corner of Third Avenue right off the interstate from campus that throws weekly parties. These parties are overcrowded with creeps and cheap booze. Unfortunately, you’re favorite place to run away to.

This isn’t his first time coming to get you. Over the past few months of your established friendship, you’ve sent him numerous amounts of drunk texts calling for him. This is the first time you actually called, preluding to a really rough night you’ve been having.

You sigh into the receiver, “you remembered.” like you’re on the verge of tears, he can hear the quiver in your tiny voice.

“I have your location, idiot.” Renjun smiles at your silly drunk reactions, finding you more enduring from the innocence. “I’ll be there in a blink.”

“Okay, I’ll close my eyes so I can open them to you.” You giggle before hanging up and Renjun can’t keep the widest grin off of his face. He’s rushing out his door, not wanting to wait another second to see you.

One thing Renjun realized after finally growing close enough to you is that through all his infatuation, you’re still a human. While he thinks of you in a sparkling cascading glitter waterfall, you’re made of the same softness that Renjun has. You’re not perfect and he needed to stop idolizing you as if you’re some shiny trophy.

No, he’s learned that he needed to love you for who you truly are. And the moment he broke down your layers, the glass tears that fell from your cheeks were real. The pain through your confident façade, Renjun needed to love you at your lowest.

He saw you for you, not the attractive person from his lecture he drooled months over. You are the exact reality that movies are afraid to portray. You’re courageous, chic, charming. But you’re also shy, soft spoken, and silly. You’re like waking up during dawn and marveling in the silence of a sleeping society. You’re also like smiles on a sunny day and living in the moment.

Renjun is lovestruck, wildly in love with all that you are. The only thing that brings down his spirits is the lingering bet he made several months ago and he hates how it’s always gnawing at him. It’s like an echo, bouncing off the walls of his mind. He can’t shake it off. Most of the time, he tries to focus the moment in front of him, but it has him tossing and turning in the middle of the night.

Without much surprise, you stand in front of the overflowing party house with eyes cutely squeezed shut. A friend by your side to wait with you. “Open your eyes.” Renjun yells as windows roll down and he double parks the car.

Your eyes gleam in the darkness and bidding your friend a quick goodbye, you jump into the familiar vehicle and embrace your good friend with a longing hug. Renjun chuckles at your adorable actions, patting your shoulder lightly. Despite the cheerful welcome, the mood immediately shifts when he hears your tiny sniffs and feels the tears on his shirt.

“C’mon, your favorite ice cream flavor is waiting for you at my place.” As he whispers positive affirmations, you can only cry harder into his chest. “You’re not feeling too good tonight, are you?”

It’s way too obvious of a question to ask, he knows. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to say and comforting is not his strongest skill without it turning it into a life lesson. He knows what you need, just someone to acknowledge how you’re feeling and to listen.

“I’m feeling the worst tonight. I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe later?” You pull away from his arms, even if he isn’t ready to let you go. He helps buckle your seatbelt and wipe any remaining wetness on your cheeks.

Your hand briefly touches Renjun’s which causes the boy to freeze at the sudden action. Your hazy smile is unclear, but you lean into him before he can process all the randomness. A kiss on his cheek, the most delicate feeling of lips on skin.

Renjun explodes inside, like hazardous fireworks on a cloudy night. He wants to enjoy it, but his circumstances make it difficult for him to. “Thanks for coming to get me.” Your body slumps back onto the seat, a pout on your lower lip. Renjun shifts awkwardly in his seat, buckling his seatbelt to begin the ride home. He can’t find the words to say.

You’re being too casual about what had just happened, as if you’re ignoring it all. Or you simply have no control over anything that you’re doing. “Let me tell you a secret, Injunie.” The sugarcoated nickname. You’re definitely too drunk at the moment, and whatever you do now will be long forgotten the next morning.

Renjun still doesn’t say anything, relishing in the kiss on the cheek just seconds ago. His fingers lightly touch his face, grazing upon the very part your lips came in contact with. He’s truly through the moon and— “I used to have the biggest crush on Jaemin.” Renjun abruptly steps on the brakes, whipping the both of you in your seats.

His heart is falling, it’s plummeting and he can’t do anything to save it. “I really didn’t expect such a surprised reaction.”

Renjun clears his throat. “I’m just caught off guard.” Not a lie, he really wasn’t expecting a confession and his heart to break right at this moment. “Why Jaemin?”

He knows why Jaemin. He’s a social butterfly with no caution to the wind and a heart made of pure kindness. A welcoming friendly figure that won’t hesitate to feed into someone’s need for words of affirmation. Not to mention, Jaemin has a good few inches above him and looks of a poster kpop idol. Of course, you liked Jaemin.

“He has such a good heart. I guess I just like guys who think of me first, as selfish as that sounds. I don’t prioritize myself, so it would be nice if someone else did.” You fiddle your thumbs and Renjun is impatiently tapping his fingers against the wheel.

The red traffic light before you enacts two different feelings. Renjun wants this ride to end as fast as possible. You want this ride to last forever.

“But, Jaemin is seeing someone.”

Your head ducks down and out the window at the shining streetlamps; you know very well about Jaemin’s love life. “I didn’t expect anything from him. I just liked him for him. He came to pick me up every time I would ask, I guess I have a thing for guys who do that.”

Renjun tightens his grip, heart pounding at your statement. You peer up to look at your friend in the lack of light. His glasses sit low on his nose bridge, a soft cotton shirt hugs his torso, and pajama pants that clad his legs. A mess bed of hair as the cherry on top.

After Jaemin, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t fall for anyone so easily. All of that was thrown out the window the very first night Renjun came to your saving. Despite contrary belief, your heart is not as impenetrable as people make you out to be. And as tough as you can be, it was too hard not to be the slightest interested in him.

Ever since your first meeting, Renjun has always been cool and collected. He’s a hothead at his best, but too playful for any serious damage. Renjun reminds you of yourself. Like a huge impenetrable wall built against any trouble to enter, he is as guarded as you are. He’s timid, and while you had tried your best to hide your own, Renjun simply embraces that part of him.

Renjun stayed after every tearful night. He’s helped you through every difficult study guide, if anything he saved your failing grade.

Renjun puts you first throughout anything; asking if you want the booth seat at restaurants, strategically walking on the outer side so you can avoid driving cars, always has your favorite snacks without you asking. Every tiny gesture, may you be slightly delusional, seemed as if he loved you. And if he did, you wouldn’t mind one bit because you wanted to love him back.

“What about you? We’ve never really talked about our love lives before.” You speak up in the silence, Rejun being awfully quiet tonight. He hopes you don’t blame him, but everything has been too overwhelming. He is no longer sure on what he wants to do or how to react.

“My love life is too sad to talk about.” He’s never wanted to talk about it with you, in case he’d slip up and say something too revealing. “It’s a long list of unrequited loves. I’ve given up on professing my feelings to someone at this point.”

“What would have to happen to get you to confess?” Your eyes coin a mischievous twinkle.

Renjun feels his palms grow sweaty, a bit nervous with this conversation topic. 

“Something catastrophic.”

Something catastrophic did end up happening. Renjun wishes he could disappear, or if he runs away, would anyone notice?

He stands behind your fuming stance. In any other given situation, Renjun would be more than flattered that you’re standing up for him. However in this case, you’re making a fool out of yourself on his behalf.

“Oh, so you haven’t told (Y/N) about the bet?” Of all the nights Renjun decides to accompany you on a Friday evening, he runs until the one person he never wanted to come within ten feet to.

Truthfully, the night was going well. He ran into a few of his other acquaintances from his club, others from his classes. You held onto his arm the moment you two entered the party, afraid to lose this precious boy in the dense crowd. People walked by and expressed how cute you two looked together.

You poured him drinks that will make his head throb and you busted dance moves that made his heart throb. You were the epitome of a fun time, like an explosion of positive endorphins. Your toothy smiles. Your bright electrified eyes. Your sweet laughter. This was the last beautiful image he had of you before everything came falling apart.

“What bet?” You quickly turn around to face Renjun. His hand scratches the back of his neck and his gaze stays staring at his own feet. Your throat grows tight from Renjun’s hesitation.

“He made a bet with me that he could get you to fall in love with him.” Please stop talking, Renjun begs in his thoughts. He tightens his fist, unable to form words to speak. The thumping of the loud music makes it hard to focus.

“He—” Shaky voice and stuttering… even you are having doubts of Renjun’s character. “He wouldn’t do that.” Your eyes bounce between him and Renjun.

“I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you don't know him very well then.” Renjun’s arrogant friend crosses his arms coolly, a smug smirk unfolding on his face.

“It’s true, (Y/N). I did make the bet and I regret it every waking day.” Renjun finally speaks up, but you’re out the door before he can continue.

There isn’t another thought in his head when he’s running after you; you’re already so far down the road. The secret was bound to be revealed, but he wasn’t ready for it. He was never going to be ready for this day because his first mistake was making the bet to begin with.

He should have thought about you. He should have just swallowed his pride and talked his friend out of it. Was that a choice? Could he have just done that instead of letting it fester into such a problem?

Out of breath and out of mind, Renjun calls out your name. When you spin on your heels to walk toward him, his heart reaches for you. However, you push at his chest and he almost falls backwards.

You’re angry, more than angry. You’re upset. You have every right to be. “What were you thinking, Renjun?” There is a small crack in your voice and he can see your tear stained cheeks under the moonlight. “Am I even your friend? All this time… you had an agenda. Were your actions all fake, then? You wanted to manipulate me into falling in love with you?”

Your words are hitting like large bricks. You are questioning the past five months of your friendship and everything Renjun has ever done for you. A false reality, Renjun didn’t actually give a damn about you. He wanted to prove some odd male status. Could you be any more blind?

“Please let me explain… I was drunk out of my mind that night and the bet I made was stupid. It was before proper evaluation. Does it make it okay? No, I understand that.” Renjun speaks with his hands, clearly panicked and frazzled by the way they waved around in the air. “The bet… I did it to protect you from that guy. I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

“So you hurt me instead?” If someone were to listen closely, they would be able to hear the shattering of two hearts tonight. On this late evening, two hearts are broken under the moon and stars.

But it’s pitiful because the arrow that struck Renjun remains intact. He still loves you, which is why it pains him so much to where he can’t breathe. The information in his head is scattered, like an alarm blaring through his empty brain.

All he knows is that he loves you. You are the one thing he’s afraid of losing. From the first words you two exchanged, his fear that he hid all too well is and always will be losing you.

“That was not my intention ever. I never wanted to hurt you.” Renjun takes a step closer, but you take one back.

“Well you did because your little bet… it worked. I love you, Renjun, so congratulations.” There is bitterness and an inexplicable amount of heartbreak that lace your venomous confession.

All of his life, he thought that if one person liked him back, he’d be the happiest person in the world. Possibly confused at how to proceed with the information, but definitely glad that someone could see any redeeming characteristics in him.

But he feels all the opposite. Your confession keeps his heart broken. If anything, it puzzles him more. “How..? Why would you ever like me?” There were no tricks, no attempts at flirtation, nothing out of bounds of being your friend. He just had himself. And if anyone in the universe were to like him, he’d never expect it would be you.

You groan, growing more infuriated at Renjun. “Because you’re everything I wish I could be. You’re level-headed and insightful. You’re calm and cool, without any necessary arrogance. The way you make me feel… I feel important to you, at least, I thought I was.” Your voice continues to drop softer and softer, “how could I not like you?”

The butterflies could not come at a better time. Hearing you compliment him when he found it difficult to look past his own self deprecation, he’s beyond any levels of shock. Nevertheless, he feels apologetic and knew that this is all too good to be true.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), for making that terrible bet. But, I need you to know one thing: our friendship was genuine. All I’ve ever wanted these past months is to make sure your sweet smile stays resting on your beautiful face.”

“Why? You didn’t know me! You used me for some … pride gamble. I was nothing to you the day you made that bet.” You shout harsh words at him, and Renjun can’t hold back any longer.

This is what he meant by something catastrophic. When he’s pushed to the edge of a cliff, all his buttons are pressed aggressively. Everything falling apart. The loose ends coming undone all too quickly to grapple. He never wanted it to come to this.

“That-That’s not true! I loved you long before that regretful night! You mean every single moment of happiness to me. You’re every ray of sunshine that kisses my skin, every blue sky that reminds me of good days. You mean everything to me.” Genuine words pour from his lips, hoping that you’ll understand what’s left of his heart.

“You’re confessing?” You gasp, practically dazed at the amount of metaphors he compared you to. “Something catastrophic.” A small moment of recollection and a mumble under your breath, you’re understanding what he meant by the phrase he used several nights ago.

“Yes because I can't lose you. I’m a mess of feelings at the moment, but I just know that I’m scared to wake up to days without you in them.” Renjun pleads, the night air causing goosebumps to rise on his arms. His eyes are full of melancholy and fear as he waits for your response.

And you want to forgive him, but would that mean your heart is being too easy? You feel lingering pain, but your eyes reflect Renjun. “To think I thought you were pretty fearless.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes at him and are completely unsure what to do next.

Nevertheless, you’ve wanted someone like Renjun at some point in your life. You hoped for better days and those didn’t start happening until you two met. Renjun went from being your distant study partner to being your number one person to call. He’s wiped more tears than any boy has.

The difference between Renjun and Jaemin is while Jaemin is known to have an extravagantly warm presence, Renjun’s is hidden underneath all the quietness. Like a breakthrough, getting through Renjun felt like getting through to yourself. You needed him to aid in your own self love.

All you’ve ever wanted is to be seen and Renjun saw you.

“I forgive you.” Renjun can finally breathe and rest his tense muscles. But when he reaches for your hand, you take it away. “But it doesn’t mean we are okay. I’ll approach you when I’m ready.”

It’s not easy to love as it’s not easy to pretend that everything can go back to normal after being hurt. You need him to understand that, would he wait for you? The many others before didn’t.

“Okay.” That is all he can say, in the midst of a defeat, he still wishes that you’d stay by his side. But he wrestles that desire with transparency and having organic feelings. Nonetheless, he values the latter. If you did really somehow manage to love him, you’ll come back when you’re ready. He knows. He understands. He sees you through and through.

And he watches you disappear back into the house to find a friend to drive you home. He loves you, but love can also be consequential.

It’s already midway into the school semester and not that Renjun is counting or anything, but it’s been practically a whole month since the night at the party. He’s done nothing, except sigh in despair and reminisce about the memories before they were ruined.

While Jaemin’s efforts to console him are much appreciated, it doesn’t do much for the fact that you haven’t acknowledged Renjun’s existence for a whole thirty days.

And although he’ll wait a lifetime for you, the question of when he should move on ponders his clouded thoughts. His intensively agonizing desire of wanting to be by your side has dwindled down now. Renjun just wants to see you happy.

“Hey Cupid,” It’s a newly despised nickname coined by the one and only person who knows how to push at Renjun’s buttons — Lee Haechan. Haechan knocks obnoxiously at his door and does not wait around to hear an answer, “get your sad face out here.”

“Go away, Haechan. I’m not in the mood.” As Renjun mindlessly skims over his calendar for important dates, he is pained by the reminder of your upcoming birthday. You had marked it yourself a while back and specifically told Renjun that his attendance is entirely mandatory.

Times have changed now, right? You’ve been radio silent for weeks and as much as he hates to say this to himself: you probably don’t remember making such an assertion. Why would you? You’re most likely not thinking about him anymore anyways and maybe that’s for the better.

“Hey! Lovestruck Asshole, I’m not going to tell you again. Get that arrow out of your ass and come outside now.” Just the demand alone in Haechan’s voice irritates Renjun enough to where he’s storming to open his door.

But what it reveals is not the smirk of his annoying housemate, instead, it is the image of the very first time Renjun ever laid eyes on you and the moment Cupid’s Arrow struck right through his heart. It’s a rush of nostalgia that surges through his veins.

You sit with a hand underneath your chin and elbow pressing into a flat surface for support. The dazed stare of daydream as you’re unaware of your surroundings, yet still waiting for something exciting to catch your attention. And just how lovely you look in the softest rose colored shirt and how your lips, still barely glistening from a quick swipe of your tongue, are slightly agape into an expressionless rest.

All before your eyes trail to the distraction of another body entering the room and for a brief second, make eye contact with Renjun as he’s all the more astonished by your grace. Then like a scene that’s imprinted in his head too clearly, your gaze drops back down to the floor and you’re back to your inner thoughts.

As if the pierced arrow in his heart is triggered, Renjun rediscovers the feelings of a newfound infatuation — a crush. Though baseless except in regards to physical attraction, he’s nonetheless amazed by how quickly you take his breath away… again.

Unlike the first memory, you actually speak to him as you’re now familiar with the starry eyed boy. “It’s been a while.”

The color in your voice that he’s missed hearing is pure music. He clears his throat as if he’s afraid of his own vocal chords breaking from nervousness.

“H-Hey, yeah. It’s been a while.” Renjun repeats dumbfounded that you’re even sitting in his shared living room.

“How have you been?” There you are being polite, but the giddiness still runs like static through his veins at being asked about his well being.

“Lost.” He blurts out the first word that comes to mind. Perhaps, he should stop using words with such heavy implications to friendly gestures. Your head immediately pops up and he scrambles to correct himself. “I mean I’ve been distracted lately.”

“Sadness really does take its course.” You tread lightly, testing the waters with a small grin. The atmosphere is oddly comforting, like feeling you can’t quite replace.

Renjun looks rather rough around the edges, but you don’t blame him since you did show up unannounced. However, the glint in his eyes is much of a delight to see. The way his small mouth curves into the tiniest smile and the gentleness in his regular cadence remind you of past long days full of laughter. The best part of them all — you spent them together.

“My birthday is coming up soon.” Jumping straight to the point of your visit, you stand up to approach him. “I plan to host a small party… and I remember saying a while back that your attendance is mandatory.”

Renjun catches his breath in his throat and he could run gleeful laps around the room if it isn’t for the poorly spaced complex. “So are you still down, Huang Renjun?”

“I’d love that.” He smiles greatly at your offer and as simple as that, your arms wrap around his torso into a long awaited embrace.

“Me too.” You mumble into his shirt and take a deep breath of his lavender scented detergent, “I’m ready. I’m ready to have you in my life. I’m ready to laugh with you. I’m ready to lay in your company. I’m ready to give you my heart.”

As you finish your last sentence, his arms wrap around you too and pull you into a tighter hold. “You have always had mine.”

Renjun can finally remove the arrow that unforgivingly stayed stuck in his heart for the longest time. Your reciprocated love fills up the hole that is left behind. He can now love you with a full and whole heart.

#nct-writers #kpopscape #neothestars #nct scenarios #nct #renjun #renjun scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct dream #huang renjun #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream imagines #huang renjun scenarios #7days

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Wordcount: 3k

Summary: 

Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dreams. He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears the echo of birdsong in her laughter, her song to the gods in the wind.

(Loosely inspired by Kimi No Nawa)

Masterlist link here 

AO3 link here

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything! 

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask! 

The first time it happens, Akaashi is in his third year of university. 

The upside of staying in Tokyo for university (his mother cried when he got into Waseda, her alma mater) is that he sees his family almost every weekend for cosy family dinners. The downside of staying in Tokyo for university is that he really has no excuse when his parents insist on carrying on Hatsumode, the first prayer of the new year, at the crack of dawn at the shrine close to their home. It’s not that he minds the tradition per se, but he did just spend all night rushing his projects just so he could adhere to the unspoken rule that no work should be done during the New Year holidays and spend some time flying kites with his little cousins. 

Still, there is something magical about starting the New Year watching dawn break and the world awaken from its slumber just as he reaches the summit of all twenty six steps to the top of the shrine, shrouded in the bare branches of the wisteria trees. He tosses coins into the box, drops into a deep bow twice, chin at waist level, clapping twice before bowing a final time. His mother buys far too many omamori, presses at least half of them into his unwilling hands when the omikuji he draws has a great curse scribbled on it. He’s not superstitious, so it doesn’t bother him, but he knows his mother is, so he does accept the omamori with some grace, though he draws the line at the love charm she tries to sneak into the pile. 

‘Mum, I’m too busy at school for a partner’, he tells her firmly. ‘Why don’t you pass it to Yuji-kun, he’s already started work, but hasn’t found a girlfriend from what Oba-chan tells me’. His elder cousin shoots him a particularly malevolent glare that he meets with a placid smile as his mother diverts her attention to him instead.

The faintest shiver runs up his fingers when he deposits the old charm he found in the corner of his closet, grey and faded with time, in the koshinsatsu osamedokoro, the omamori drop off open only during the first day of the New Year. The shiver turns into a ripple of cool water racing up his wrists and roars into an tsunami of dread when the attendant tells him all deposited charms will be burnt in the ritual fire in a fortnight’s time, but he writes it off as a symptom of his lack of sleep and starts to turn away. 

There’s a sudden echo of a nightmare of raging flames that prompts him to swivel around to snatch the omamori and stuff it back in his pocket, muttering apologies to the shocked attendant. Later, when he has time to process his impulse, he’d find it strange. In the meantime however, the festivities wait for no one, so he distracts himself by eating far too much dango and mochi in between rounds of tossing kites up to catch the wind. His uncles slip him full cups of sake and sweetened rice wine to his mother’s disapproval, which in hindsight he should have heeded, as he stumbles to bed that night, head heavy with alcohol. 

That night he dreams of a girl with curly hair, lying in a field of endless gold - daffodils to mark the dawn of spring. 

‘Also known as narcissus’, he hears himself say, hears himself narrate the myth of a man so entranced by his own reflection in the water that he lost his will when he realizes he cannot have his object of desire. A girlish voice lilts teasingly – ‘the flowers are too pretty to be ruined by your obsession of stories written by grumpy old men’. He wakes up with the ghost of laughter on his lips, but there’s a lingering sense of loss budding in barren soil of his heart. 

It does prompt him to pop by the florist near his parents’ house to order a bouquet of daffodils for his mom to be delivered on the first day of spring. He’s accustomed to the old couple running the shop, so he pauses just for a second when he walks into the store to find a new girl at the counter. She must not be used to customers yet, dropping the bouquet she’s working on when she notices him. 

‘Hi’, she stammers, cheeks pink. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I’d like to make an advance order for daffodils please.’ 

‘For spring?’ she asks, and he nods, writing down his parents’ address when prompted. ‘That’s a good choice!’ 

She waves him off with a cheerful – ‘please come back again’, and he does not notice that there are stars in her eyes. 

His mother drags him back to the shrine on the third day of the holidays, and he obliges her, ever the dutiful only son, even though the frigid temperature makes his breath puff up into clouds and the tip of his nose turns numb. The old omamori is still snug in his jacket pocket, and as his fingers brush against it, he can feel the threads of the charm unravelling, the fabric almost fragile in its worn, threadbare state but he does not attempt to dispose of it again.  

‘What are you going to do once you’re done with your degree, Keiji?’ His mother asks, when they stop by an old teahouse for a cup of steaming genmaicha, the aroma of roasted rice tea warm against his cold nose. 

‘I intend to apply for a job at a publishing company after I graduate’, he tells her seriously, and she nods, encouraging him to continue. ‘I’m hoping it’s something to do with my major, preferably Japanese literature, better yet if it's poetry, but in this market, I’ll take what I can get’. 

His mother nods, smiling at him fondly. ‘I remember you used to be obsessed with Shakespeare and Greek myths when you were younger, all the way through high school, and your father and I thought that you’d end up majoring in that in university. You really surprised us when you chose to major in Japanese literature instead.’

‘I don’t know why, to be honest. Maybe I had a good Japanese literature tutor?’ He laughs, fiddling with his teacup. 

‘Mm I don’t think so though. I remember you complaining that Raku-sensei was so dull he caused everyone to fall asleep.’ He shrugs, and though she stares at him curiously, she does not pursue the line of conversation any further. 

That night he dreams of waking up in an old wooden house, shivering in a thick futon, the smoldering embers from the irori, mere inches from his face. It’s so very different from his childhood bedroom filled with modern appliances and walls of books neatly shelved in alphabetical order, but he doesn’t notice that in the dark. Instead, he reaches for his phone to check the time, bolting awake because that can’t be, he never misses his alarm, mentally calculating that he must leave the house in exactly fifteen minutes to make it in time for practice when a little boy bursts through the door. 

‘Nee-chan’, the little boy whines. ‘I’m hungry. Time for breakfast’. 

Did he just say Nee-chan? Scratch that - since when did he have a little brother? 

He scrambles out of bed, groping his way in the dark to the washroom. The cold water should wake him up, but when he looks up at the mirror above the sink, the face he’s staring at does not belong to him. No - it belongs to a dark eyed girl with curly hair - but it doesn’t make sense, shouldn’t make sense, because when he reaches a trembling finger to poke at the mirror, he is she or she is him - 

The ensuing panic and confusion makes him jerk out of his dream, but when he rushes to the washroom to check that he’s still himself, he is relieved to see that it’s still him - Akaashi Keiji, with dark circles around his eyes, staring back in disbelief. 

He chalks his strange dream up to the stress he carries around from trying to clear all his course work so he can audit additional classes over the next term. 

Except the dreams don’t stop, not even when he moves back to the university dorms. He keeps waking up drenched in cold sweat, clutching at his arms even though they’re clear of the scratches he sees in his dreams, red and raw and stretching all the way up his elbows. 

‘Be kinder to Hana-chan, Keiji-kun’, he hears the call of the same girl in his mind and he shudders, unsure whether the disembodied voice floating through his mind is a memory from his dream. ‘She’s going through an awfully tough time’.

‘It doesn’t give her the right to hurt you like that’, he can hear his faint disapproval. 

‘Never mind that, it’s not a big deal. What are we reading today – don’t tell me it’s anything like Hamlet. That was horrendously depressing.’ 

‘Midsummer’s Night Dream? It’s a romantic comedy at least.’

‘Only a nerd like you would read Shakespeare in high school – and it’s not even in Japanese!’

‘Hush – you don’t get to complain when I’m reading it out to you.’

‘What on earth is going on’, he mutters to himself. The copious amounts of frigid water he splashes onto his face is no antidote to this madness.

‘Sato-san, are you feeling alright?’ he asks his grimacing classmate in concern, lines of pain etched onto her face. 

‘I’m fine, Akaashi-kun’, she manages to spit out, clutching her stomach with white-knuckled hands. ‘It’ll pass in a bit, I hope’. 

‘Are you sure you’re fine? I could help you to the nurse’s office if that helps’. 

His classmate shakes her head, a blush staining her cheeks. ‘It’s just that time of the month. I apologise if that’s too much information to be polite’. 

Ah. But somehow even though he has no sisters, and his female classmates in high school were oddly reticent about their periods (strange, considering it is part and parcel of being a mammal for far more than a millenium) the steps to deal with this particular conundrum come to him so naturally it’s almost as if the answers were presented to him previously in a dream. 

‘Here’, he passes Sato-san painkillers, chocolate and a hot water bottle he’d managed to talk the university nurse into loaning him, and Sato practically whimpers in gratitude. 

‘You’re a lifesaver, Akaashi-kun’, she tells him and he nods, content that he’s solved the problem so efficiently. 

That night he wakes up in her body again. The room is dark, save for the sliver of white light between the blinds that allows him to discern the growing crimson stain between her legs. 

‘Don’t you know all women have to deal with this nonsense every month? But I’ll tell you a trick - painkillers, chocolate and a hot water bottle will make you feel as right as rain’, he hears her voice declare in his mind, and he startles awake to find himself back in his own bed, blessedly clear of any bloodstains. 

It must be a dream borne out of what happened today, he tells himself firmly and shrugs it off. The rest of his slumber is thankfully shorn of dreams. 

But then these dreams start to crash into his sleep like a series of never ending waves, and he’s a short hop, skip, jump away from falling off the cliff into a distracted madness, the rate his sleep keeps getting disrupted. He keeps waking up in her body, it makes him feel like a creep, wearing her skin like an ill-fitting glove, and he decided does not think about how strange it feels to have twin lumps of flesh in front of his chest (his mother raised him to be a gentleman, after all). 

The contents of these dreams are relatively cyclical. He wakes up at dawn, puts on her school uniform, makes breakfast for the little boy - Toya-chan over the primitive hearth before rushing to school through dirt paths lined with trees. His - or rather her classmates stare at her with a mix of condescension and apathy, and her hours in school are spent in a lonely silence, save when Hana-chan gets up in her face and screams absolute nonsense about staying the fuck away from her, which seems a little dramatic considering she’s the one doing the confronting, but it’s just a dream, so he keeps telling himself. It’s not like he can change anything about it. 

‘Does it bother you? That you’re alone?’ he asks her one day. 

‘Not really. I have you and Toya-chan, don’t I?’ she responds. 

‘I suppose’, he says, voice trailing off. 

He catches glimpses of sun drenched afternoons spent in fields of flowers, glances of dusky evenings spent in the forest basking in the light of the setting sun. He agonizes over stacks of homework, digs for mushrooms in the damp earth, climbs through wire fences to scavenge for eggs in neighbouring farms. 

‘Aren’t your parents worried about you and Toya-chan?’ he can hear himself question her one night. 

‘My mom is dead and my dad can’t be home often, he works on construction projects around Sapporo. He sends cash to me and Toya-chan, and it isn’t always enough, but he tries his best ’, she answers, her voice feather light. 

‘I’m sorry’, he tells her a little awkwardly, thinking about his happy family and wondering how it’d feel like to have them torn away from him so early on in life. 

‘Don’t be’, she replies, ‘Sometimes I wonder if it’s better to have good parents who’re dead or absent rather than horrible parents who’re still alive’. 

He jolts awake again, relieved to find himself back in his bed. It’s barely four in the morning, but he’s not going to be able to sleep after that, so he resigns himself to using the time to get cracking on his college assignments anyway. But he makes sure to call his mother once day breaks and he’s sure she’s returned from the market with groceries in tow, telling her awkwardly that he’s just calling to catch up and hopes she’s been well and ok bye mum I love you very much, heart pounding when he hangs up abruptly. 

He has a standing appointment on the first Thursday every month to meet Kenma for coffee at a café a stone’s throw away from Waseda. They both order black coffee, which is strange for Kenma considering his legendary sweet tooth, but he knows Kenma too well to know that the ridiculously successful game streamer is only drinking coffee to stay awake, the shadows under his eyes deeper and darker than those under Akaashi’s own eyes.  

‘Doesn’t Kuroo-san nag you go to bed at a decent time?’ 

Kenma doesn’t even bother to flick his eyes up, busy gulping mouthfuls of the bitter liquid. ‘Speak for yourself. Not sleeping well either?’ 

Akaashi shrugs his shoulders helplessly, stirring his coffee. ‘Mm. ‘I’ve been having strange recurring dreams and it’s been affecting my sleep’. 

Kenma merely hums in reply, and Akaashi finds himself spilling out the entire weird series of events – though to be absolutely accurate, his dreams aren’t real so they can’t be termed as events, but they’ve been haunting him for the past month so they might as well be at this rate. He explains about finding himself in the body of a high school girl with curly hair and a dimple on one cheek, how he’s lived her life enough in the past month that he can map out her days with startling certainty, how he knows it’s not real – it can’t be real, but his dreams glimmer with such vibrancy that they feel real. 

‘Am I going crazy?’ he asks. 

‘I highly doubt it’, Kenma says, tapping his chin in thought. ‘Maybe it’s like one of those exploration video games where you have to take your time to discover its world to figure out the narrative the game is feeding you.’ 

Trust Kenma to relate everything to video games. 

‘That was singularly unhelpful’, Akaashi says dryly as Kenma chuckles quietly in response. 

He is almost afraid to fall asleep again but his eyelids are weighed down by weeks’ worth of sleep deprivation and soon he finds himself again in her body. 

It’s a clear winter’s night. He’s huddled under a thick blanket to shield himself from the bitter cold, watching the embers in the hearth glow yellow and gold. 

‘It’s late. Can’t sleep?’ 

‘Mm’ he replies. ‘Wondering what tomorrow will bring.’ 

‘You’re overthinking again, Keiji’, she chuckles. ‘Tomorrow’s going to be just another day. You’ll wake up back in your warm bed at the crack of dawn for volleyball practice, attend classes in your fancy private school, and play even more volleyball with your beloved Bokuto-san’. 

He rolls his eyes heavenwards at her words and her laugh this time is loud, bright. 

‘You know I only speak the truth. Now, since you need to wake up ridiculously early tomorrow, why don’t I tell you a bedtime story so you can fall asleep.’

‘I’m not a child’, he replies dryly, but does not object when she starts to narrate the tale of a princess exiled from the moon, who is raised by a humble woodcutter and his wife to become a renowned beauty, with five suitors seeking her hand. ‘That’s mean of her’, he mumbles as she describes how the princess rebuffs her suitors by setting them impossible tasks, drifts to sleep as her voice softens as she describes how the princess falls in love with the Emperor, but breaks both their hearts because she knows she must return to the moon someday. He’s fast asleep when she reaches the ending where the princess leaves all her memories on earth with tears in her eyes, gifting the emperor with an elixir of immortality which he burns, because he declares life isn’t worth living without her. 

‘Goodnight Keiji’, she says, her voice shimmering in the still night air.   

For the first time in a long while, Akaashi wakes up at peace. 

Taglist: 

@1tooru @animeflower26 @kageyamakock

#hq #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #hq imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu writing #hq writing #haikyuu angst #haikyuu romance #akaashi keiji #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x y/n #haikyuucreations #akaashi headcanons #akaashi angst #haikyuu fic rec #haikyuu scenarios

[monkey-network]

Why Klaus IS Christmas Kino

Klaus isn’t flawless, let’s get this out the way. My love for this film won’t deny that it bears a couple nits that can distract the experience. Jesper and Alva’s relationship felt like an eye-rolling inevitability, notable cliches here & there, a notable song felt both fitting and out of place, and while enjoyable, I’m not as big a fan of the climax as I thought. But in spite of it all, I love this film and it is one of the best modern animated Christmas films, period? Follow me here. I could go on about its wonderful animation cuz yeah, it’s unlike any other film. But a philosophy of mine is that the best animation enhances the writing and I can say Klaus is that surprisingly well written and has become an all time Christmas fave

*deep breath in* So let’s do this...

I mention that Klaus has its cliches, but you gotta know that it’s smarter than expected. Believe me when I say if the writers didn’t care, this could’ve actually been so much worse. Jesper could’ve been more manipulative towards everyone for his goals, Klaus would’ve given up entirely after knowing the truth about Jesper, we could’ve had an argument between Jesper and his dad about upholding business, the townsfolk could’ve reverted back to their old ways, plenty writing moments where this could’ve been Emoji Movie levels of insulting to your intellect. BUT, they don’t. The film never really turns back on itself, it keeps moving where, as the notable quote goes, an act of good will sparks another as it starts with Jesper’s father.

Even if nepotism was responsible for Jesper getting the job in the first place, he clearly sees his son be more spoiled than he’s worth so is like, “Ma boi, I will send you to the ends of the earth or leave you to the streets if you don’t do something with yourself.” He never cared about his son representing the postal company, or ruining his top class image, he was only tired of Jesper taking advantage of his fortune while not having any ambition of his own. Can’t help but say Jesper’s dad is a very respectable character because the sole reason the whole plot happened in the first place was because he just wanted his son to do better. It’s that act of genuine consideration that pushes Jesper to his wake up call as he reaches Smeerensburg.

People have compared this movie to Emperor’s New Groove through Jesper’s character and I say yes, but this film takes that next step and put Jesper in the pit of pits way early. Reminds me more of Ratatouille’s beginning where Remy’s lowest point is around the same time as Jesper’s. The harsh atmosphere of the island is treated very blunt in how this is our mailman’s nightmare come true. With his situation, our guy is truly at his lowest. Gives up now, he’ll be cut off his inheritance and probably will have worse. Everyone hates him and each other, his post office itself is in shambles, symbolic of how communication is practically thin outside conflict, and the teacher turned fish seller Alva is that path Jesper could notably be if he didn’t try. Everything is literally grey for this guy, but like Ratatouille, when you’re at your lowest there’s no where else to go but up. That’s where Klaus comes in...

This is genuinely the most clever interpretation of Santa I know, hands down. A well established woodsman, a crafter both of living, for him and the birds that reside in his woods, and recreation with the toys he made himself not just for kids, but specifically the kids he and his wife wanted but couldn’t have. Klaus feels like a real person, not just another take on the mythical man. You’re with him and Jesper as he, after familiar winds provide him a letter, a small spark to do something good, soon opens up and gets reminded of what’s kept him going all these years. It is no wonder he sees his wife in Jesper, it’s thanks to him that he could refurbish his dashed dream into a new one. He didn’t just want to do it for the children of the island, but for himself. That is another thing about this film: communication. I mention before how it’s practically thin at first due to a long going feud that isn’t even aware of why it’s still going. The joy in hate is only for hatred’s sake, and they make it very clear how miserable it all feels. That is where Jesper comes in. They don’t take shortcuts with how he gets the ball rolling, both accidentally and purposefully, he boots up to get things done, pushes himself to go to Klaus to make things happen. This is all in part by the youth, what really ties the plot together...

As I mentioned before (again), life in Smeerensburg is noticeably miserable but thanks to Klaus, by extension Jesper, the kids are enticed to do what it takes to get some genuine joy in their lives through the toys they’re able to get. They’ll make them letters, and if they can’t write, they’ll go to Alva for teachings, and if they act naughty, they’ll try to do good which in turn pushes the adults to do good for the sake of their kids. It really would’ve been one thing to sure enough make the kids spoiled because of the toy giving, focusing more on the extrinsic value of Klaus’s kindness but no. The children are very grateful for these gifts enough to feel compelled to do good, and it makes them feel good as much as it soon makes the adults more convinced to stop fighting. It helps that this all takes place in older times cuz I believe this would’ve been far different, possibly worse, if this took place in modern times. That or just kinda rip off Arthur Christmas, it’s my guess. As such, it gradually becomes an amazing Christmas film because it isn’t just the presents, the Santa Claus myth, the festive style of it all that makes this holiday special to me. It’s the warmth... of togetherness.

My favorite detail about Klaus is how it transitions from cold to warm with its atmosphere. We start out with the emptiest, harshest environment, enough fog to choke your eyes, and then we get to this moment with a brighter, clearer sight of the more united town as the Christmas spirit builds in the film, even when it isn’t even that day yet in-universe, so too does the warmhearted feeling that can come from celebrating it appear more and more. This film fleshes out more of what the Grinch taught me, what A Charlie Brown Christmas taught me, what I’ve come to appreciate about Christmas as I grew up in this materialistic world. I can say everyday can have the Holiday spirit, but Christmas is the time where I feel compelled to be grateful of what I’ve made and got and give back when honestly, I don’t care about getting the most expensive stuff anymore like I used to when I was way younger. This film is so sincere in what it wants to say, and you know this is indeed the same guy that made Minions. Yeah, not kidding and I’ll let you sit with that if you’re reading this as I continue because we have to talk about that moment...

Yeah, I don’t like being the Nostalgia Critic, but I too don’t take kindly to the ‘liar reveal’ trope myself and this could’ve been a point where the film lost me a little. Though you know what? It still works. See, with that trope, what sucks is that it can tend to unravel the plot to where you know as soon as they break apart, they’ll get back together regardless of the deed done. This is why I don’t like A Bug’s Life, don’t @ me. But I’m not saying it can’t done right, like in Over the Hedge. The breakup between Jesper and the others is painful, but it is necessary to give us a couple great character moments. One is with Jesper and his dad, who came back personally to see that Jesper has indeed built something for himself. We get no dialogue between them but it’s clear that even when Jesper’s unintentionally successful thanks to Yzma and Bubba, he can tell his son wasn’t happy leaving everything behind, so he lets him stay since that was what he truly wanted this whole time. Again, give that man some credit for amazing dad. Another moment comes before the big reveal where not only do we see Jesper come to understand his own guilt surrounding his original intentions, but in the end they never hated him for coming back, especially due to him inadvertently stopping the enemy feud all together. Lastly, without that moment, we probably wouldn’t have got this smile. When Margu, purest character ever that I could make a whole segment about but I don’t wanna keep you too long, started to tear up after calling for Jesper thinking he left for good but she then sees our guy never really left and we get this teary smile:

I felt that. Almost more than anything else in this film.

Cliched as it can appear, the execution excels in those more memorable emotions for this film. It’s been a year since I watched this again and I remember so much about these characters. And my god, I haven’t even gotten to the animation which... my god.

Klaus is indeed the most beautiful upon beautiful films I’ve seen, and what makes it better is that it all enhances the story. I mention before of its transitional visual from cold to warm sights, but goddamn, the character designs, the environments, the expressiveness, the textures all amount to style perfect for this alone. I think it would’ve as well received if it had a more flat look, but they seriously went higher for a traditional appealing story that compliments the unique children’s storybook look of it all. This honestly is better than most of modern Disney films that I’ve seen, ironic since it feels like if you took Tangled the Series and made it 3D with more fluid character animation. And if I’m comparing something to the continuous mindblower that’s Tangled the Series, you’ve most certainly got on my best side.

Sergio Pablos and his team really pulled no punches in making this a great movie. A great Christmas movie, one worth seeing if not at least once but every Holiday season for tradition’s sake. Klaus gave me a good time, made me cry, and above all showed me to never stop having a good heart because doing good can indeed go far, thankless as it can be. Heck, my heart felt more rejuvenated than before in making this critique, that’s a testament to how much good this film means to me personally. What else is there to say?

It's The Best

#Klaus #Klaus movie #klaus netflix #Klaus 2019 #movies #art #animation #Christmas #holidays #xmas #analysis #long post #reviews #Good Stuff

[prose-for-hire]

Be still my spooky heart

Pairing: Giles x fem!reader

Request: Sorry this isnt a request for the halloween prompts but I wanted to request a female reader x Giles prompt where the reader is alternative/goth and they're bullied and find sanctuary at the library where they keep to themselves and enjoy the peace and quiet of the library where they can read about spooky things and catch up on their studies ...I'm requesting specifically because I start college again soon and there some people there that make me feel unwelcome and Giles is a current comfort

Requested by: @stardust-strange​ - I’m so sorry this took so long love💜

Warning: Discussion of bullying. Reader gets physically injured, but not at anybody else’s hand. Tiniest ever blood mention.

You had always had a love for the alternative. You had a love for all things dark and spooky. It was so fascinating. You adored gothic fashion and notions. It was a beauty that sometimes it felt that only you saw.  

Your clothing reflected this love of yours. You enjoyed wearing black, pairing different styles to your taste. You had always worn alternative clothing. It was the way that you expressed yourself. It made you feel good, made you happy.

You were happy with the way you dressed. It looked good. But other people didn’t really seem to get it. In fact, they took an almost instant dislike to you for it. Some gave you strange looks whilst others hurled insults at you.

You held your head high for the most part, you weren’t doing anything wrong. All you were doing was expressing yourself (and looking super cool while you were doing it). But some days it really got you down.

It got so bad sometimes that you had to hide. In the bathrooms or somewhere private you found on campus. Because the group grew in their hatred of you almost every day it seemed.

Some days you just left. Not turning up to classes, not daring to show your face. Less you face a fate worse than death itself. Your reality, that is.

Often, you could be found leaving the college campus and walking back there. To your safe space.

Your safe place was your old High school’s library. You could spend hours in there. You would read of such brilliant worlds. Both fiction and otherwise. You enjoyed reading about the goriest demons. The worst ones, with the most horrific pasts. Stories and myths. You loved it all. The creepier the better. It fascinated you. It spoke to your very essence.

This was where you were doing today. You were scurrying towards the library. You couldn’t explain it, but it made you feel safe. He made you feel safe.

Protected. From cruel eyes and harsh barbs that people threw your way. With him, it didn’t feel so bad. With him, you felt like you could fight another day.

Giles was your old high school librarian and you had fallen for him. Deeply. Your feelings increasing since you left the school. You barely ever stopped thinking about him. You were closer to graduating college now and yet you still snuck in the school when Snyder wasn’t paying attention.

He was always happy to see you. So welcoming. Warm and affectionate. More so than he was with anyone else, although you didn’t realise it. You usually slipped in, hiding between the stacks. Some days he found you and sat with you. A comfortable silence.

Others, he would let you have your space and wait for you to come and find him. You knew you could always talk to him. No matter what.

He loved your fascination for the macabre. That you would always tackle the heaviest books. Horror and life and death. Fantasy becoming alive in your mind.

He thought your style was brilliant. He would have worn the same should he not be attached to suits in the way he was now. He thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Your style only accentuating your distinctive features.

His heart soared when he saw that you were there, but when he realised that you were upset it hurt him. Almost as deep as it appeared to on your face. It cut worse than a knife through the chest. Than poison to the heart.

Today, was one of those days. A sad one. Your eyes welling when you arrived, his face that had been upturned into a wry smile upon your appearance in his day instantly dropped when he saw your demeanour. The way you curled in upon yourself. The way you hissed sharply at any wrong movement because of the pain.

You had embarrassed yourself, in front of them all. They had laughed, jeered. Shame had you in a chokehold. Their hatred for you cutting off your circulation. Sobs catching in your throat.

You had fallen over, stumbling over your own feet. In the middle of the lecture hall before the professor started.

They laughed. Whispered and jeered at you. Some clapped and shouted. Their voices becoming louder. You felt so humiliated. They spoke of how much of a freak you were. How much you stuck out from the crowd. How much they hated you for it without knowing you. Just because you didn’t fit their idealised mould.

You had skinned your knee. Blood running down your leg, ripping your tights even more than they usually were. You scooped yourself up, leaving the lecture room as fast as you could hobble away.

Tears stung the back of your eyes. Vision blurred. The heavy stream rolling down your face. You could taste it. Salty sadness almost drowning you.

His kind hand lead you to his office. His love cradled you, his deep-rooted care reaching every pore. Every inch of your being. He scanned your tear-stained face.

His jaw tensed, his eyes barely holding the anger that was hidden behind. He needed to know if someone had done this. Had hurt you in this way. He made sure to keep it below the surface, his care at the forefront. His tensing jaw barely hidden as he took your shaking hand in both of his.

“What happened, Y/n?”

“I-“ You shook your head, waves of sobs making your entire body shudder. His eyes shone, he had never seen you this way. You usually wouldn’t show him just how much they hurt you. It broke him. His hands soothingly rubbing against yours.

“If they have laid a hand on you, I will bloody well-” You shook your head quickly, words failing you. Eyes widening at his biting attitude. He was trying to push it under the surface, silencing it until he knew the facts. But when he cared this deeply, when he knew in his very heart that he would near fight the sun had it cast upon your face wrong - this anger could never dissipate.

You deserved the world. You deserved kindness and light. Compassion and adoration. Everything he had wanted to give you, to say to you. You deserved love.

As you began to explain, knowing there was no immediate physical harm waiting outside the walls he could relax. But only slightly. He sat you down and leaned to take out his medical box, opening it. You watched his fingers sort through the bandages and antiseptic.

He gestured, as if asking permission to assist. You nodded through your still burning tears.

He knelt before you, a soothing hand on your thigh briefly before he realised and reluctantly slid his hand from your skin. You leaned in further despite the discomfort at your slight pain, wishing to feel his warm, comforting hand on you again.

But he moved to focus on the now dried wound on your knee. It wasn’t so deep, but the wound was more emotional from what you had explained. Still, he wished to treat you as if you were the only person in the world. In his world.

He began to clean the wound, wiping the dried blood from your knee. He focused with such dedication. Every stroke a practice in devotion. He was so in tune with you.

He hated it when you hissed, his hand resting on your shin now. The touch soothing. With his touch, your tears began to dry.

He pushed his anger way down, deciding that he would save it for when you were gone. When he could ask Willow to hack into the campus register and find the names of those that cause you such pain. Find a way to make them hurt the way they had made you hurt.

No, don’t be rash.

Right now, everything was about you. It was always about you. You were in his every thought. Every movement. Such attention, such dutiful caress.  He rubbed your leg softly, his fingertips barely brushing your skin but you felt it in your very soul.

His mind would tell him later he had done too much. Been too familiar. When you may not feel the same. But he had such care to give. Such love to lay upon you. He had to show you this tenderness.

He bandaged your wound. The intimacy of this action made you sigh softly, your tears in your eyes but your mind now consumed by him.

When he finished dressing your wound with those nimble fingers, he didn’t move from where he was knelt before you.

He stared into your eyes, his words lost. He just gazed in awe. Even in your sorrow, you were strong. Even at a low he found you ethereal. A woman that would not be torn down by this. That could accept his assistance but still stand strong on your own. He admired you for it.

His touch had been tender and you felt yourself missing this contact. As if he read your mind, your most intimate thoughts he rose to his feet. But not before he leaned into you.

Pressing a sweet kiss against your forehead. Feather-light. You closed your eyes, again leaning into his touch. You wanted to grip him and pull him into you. Kiss his lips, allow him to know you. Feel you. But you couldn’t, not today.

Not after you had shared this moment with him. You were still dizzy from even the gentlest contact he had bestowed upon you.

Maybe one day. When you weren’t so reliant on what you already had now. You adored him, needed him. Couldn’t dare ruin this. Lose this.

You loved him and this was the very moment that you realised. You wouldn’t know for months from now that he felt exactly the same.

#Giles #Rupert Giles #Giles x reader #Rupert Giles x reader #Giles imagine #Rupert Giles imagine #Rupert Giles x you #btvs #btvs x reader #btvs x you #btvs imagine #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #buffyverse #female #female reader #x reader

[silvia7272]

Miraculess Ladybug Salt AU: You Always Liked To Play With Fire ~ The Prologue

Hey everyone, this is a new story I wanted to introduce to you all.

I’ve been putting everything in a massive word doc because I had so many ideas and finally settled on putting it out today because it's my birthday. 29th, I may have updated it late.

Yay.

So as a special treat, here’s a new series with a few original characters, ones you know or have been changed ever so slightly to fit, in a Miraculess world. (haha, you see what I did there? No… I’ll leave)

Also for anyone new, I’m a multi-shipper so I ship my characters with a bunch of other people, as I like Lukanette (Fandom Version), Daminette (Fandom Version), Felinette (PV Fandom Version), Marichat (Fandom Version) and I guess Rosannette. What’s Rosannette? Well, I guess you’ll have to find out, won’t you? (also no that’s not a typo, it is Rosannette)

Also, I guess this will just have the usual salt, maybe more, I don’t know. I kinda want it to just be about these two.

Word Count: 3912

Note: I haven’t tagged anyone just in case, this is a different series from my other, I just got really excited and wanted to write it. If you still wish to be tagged for this story please say and specify.

Also: This is a salt story, it will have OOC moments from everyone so it will be classed as an AU. If you don’t want to read that’s fine, and have a nice day.

Well, I hope you’ll enjoy it.

This is for all the people that might prefer Rosinette (like from the songfic) instead, I don’t mind but it won’t be in my main series, so I hope this will satisfy you.

(Word of warning, I believe this will be an AU where the Miraculous don’t exist, and non-canon to my official story and I believe mentions of a panic attack might be lightly mentioned, don’t know if it is, but if someone could check and I’ll make the warning clearer that would be nice)

Summary: 

(Fire doesn't exactly have anything to do with this story I just really liked the title)

Note: This book contains OOC scenes of Miraculous Ladybug as well as a ton of salt, so if you don't like that stuff you may scroll past and have a nice day.

In a world with no Miraculous, no Hawkmoth and no Ladybug, how does our little heroine do?

Well, it usually would be hanging out with her friends, as any other teenager would do...

But, of course, this wasn't normal. 

This was reality. It was cold, hard and definitely not welcome.

So, when this girl wishes to have some kind of adventure in her boring, mundane life...

How long does it take for her to regret it?

***

Memories, it's such a simple word yet it holds so much meaning. One could either wish to forget everything from their life, and simply move forward so they could pursue their dreams. Or, simply relish in the past when they remembered how great it was, all the friends they had made, all the moments they had which were too good to let go.

.

But, I guess sometimes, you did have to let go. But let go of what exactly? Let go of all the happiness once you knew how it would end? No that would be too harsh and you’d turn bitter. Let go of all the sadness? But, wasn’t it an important life lesson to learn, sometimes, you just have to be sad because of the situation at hand. No amount of croissants or macarons would be able to lift your spirits back.

.

Or maybe that was too much of a specific example.

That was what Marinette had thought, staring at an empty glass so intently the man behind made himself disperse from the amount of time the unblinking woman just stared and never flinched.

She guessed it hadn’t all been bad, she at least had some form of happiness before it was violently ripped away, but part of her wondered, what would’ve happened if she never felt that type of happiness before? Would she have felt like she had for so long, was it the fact that she knew what being happy was like before worse? Because, as depressing as it sounded, if she hadn’t been as happy, would she have been as upset?

She would never know, she couldn’t go back in time since that was impossible, but the thought always came and went whenever she was alone with her thoughts.

So… Maybe it was for the best, that she was able to remember what real happiness felt like.

The tight feeling in your chest, butterflies in your stomach, face being so red anyone would worry if the bluenette had caught a cold instead-

Wait- this was an oddly specific kind of happiness she felt, surely she must’ve gotten mixed up with some other felling right?

Right!?

So, how come she was feeling this- incredibly bright heat from her cheeks when she felt a hand on her shoulder?

We may need to go back several years.

***

In a classroom in Collège Françoise Dupont, a young pigtailed girl sat at the back, tears silently falling onto her knees and bawled up fists. She didn’t see any use of wiping them away, since they would just come back anyway, and it would be useless to just repeat that endless cycle. She hadn’t looked around to see anyone else’s faces, they would either just ignore her, or taunt her for just crying, for just being human.

Now you may be wondering why she was so upset? What possibly could’ve happened to make our very cheerful and sunshiny girl become so hunched over she was practically crying her eyes out? Well, the answer lies on the one girl at the front. The one girl sitting in an all too familiar place. The one girl who just ruined all of her newfound friendships.

Lila Rossi.

And boy had she hated that name.

She couldn’t stand that smirk, that thief, that scandal!

And what exactly did she do?

.

She lied.

Now you may be thinking that may not have been all that bad, but it was.

Every time she opened her mouth, everyone would fawn around her, even Alix, the one who seriously couldn’t care about anything to do with glamourous celebrities, was hanging on the edge of her seat to hear one of Lila’s so-called stories. She just had to guess Lila held up a treat over her head to keep her being obedient enough.

She hated Lila so much because she was just using everyone to get an easy life at school, the fastest way towards popularity she guessed, but why she thought this was the fastest way was beyond her.

She hated Lila because she had spread so many lies, so many rumours, all about her. All so out of the realm it was such a surprise they all believed her without a shred of evidence.

It had happened so fast, one day, they were all friends, smiling and laughing like there was no tomorrow, the next, she was surrounded by those faces, those faces of disgust and hatred. As if she had committed even the worst of crimes, more so than Chloé, speaking of, who was absolutely enjoying this show.

But undoubtedly. What she hated about Lila the most.

.

Was that technically, she didn’t have to do that much.

After so many sessions of crying, and just not believing that they could possibly leave her, a friend, like that, she started to reason with herself, that maybe it wasn’t just Lila that pushed them all away.

She thought back to before.

Before they were friends, before Alya even came to Collège, she had been alone. Chloé had always gone out of her way to relentlessly bully her, and no one wanted to be friends with her with Chloé around. So she accepted it, just hoping one day, karma would seek justice and she’d be put in her place.

So she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And-

Gave up.

She accepted defeat after all the years. After the meaningless conversations with teachers that she should try and be the bigger person and rise above all of her hatred for her. Simply because they couldn’t do anything. They had no power over the mayor's Daughter. So they just let her continue her reign over the school.

She didn’t have any powers to stop her.

.

But then, a light of hope came.

The new girl, with ombre brown and red hair, glasses and hazel eyes. A striped t-shirt and an undeniable Aura that reeked of confidence.

As Marinette was being targeted by Chloé yet again, she came in, and for once, stood up to her. Chloé! No fear in her eyes as she, Alya, grabbed her, Marinette’s, hand and walked off to the desk at the front.

She couldn’t believe it, someone stood up to Chloé! She thought it had only been a myth, a legend, but that right there, it was real.

They became friends faster than the speed of sound.

And soon, she too was able to stand up for herself. Reclaiming her original seat back, and citing a quote her new friend had said… Then everyone had wanted to become friends… And, she felt ecstatic.

Finally. It finally came. The day she had prayed for had come. She felt nothing but pure joy.

And she didn’t want that feeling to go away.

She was terrified that the feeling would go away.

So, she thought of making sure that feeling wouldn’t go away.

That’s why she made so many ‘spare’ macaroons to give away, she didn’t spend her free nights staying up and making them, no way.

That’s why she provided so many free gifts to her friends. What? Her hand has a plaster, no she just tripped and hit herself, it had nothing to do with the gifts. Don’t worry, try your gloves on, do they fit?

That’s why she was late for class. Huh, no I’m fine, I’m not tired… But I might just rest my eyes for a bit, wake me up when something important happens.

That’s why she was so happy to realise Adrien wasn’t as bad as Chloé, the small gentle soul that he had, to graciously provide her with his own umbrella, how selfless.

And that’s why she held onto the idea of Adrien so much. The idea that he was perfect. The idea that she was in love with him.

So, she held onto it.

No, she clung to that idea because she didn’t want any chance to let go. So, she may have gone a bit overboard, with the whole, schedule thing, and the phone… And the schemes. But she believed it was harmless. No one else seemed to have any problems with it, so she believed she was in the clear.

Until she wasn’t.

And Lila used that to her advantage.

She remembered that day so vividly, just like all those other memories. The day she came. The day she would find herself in the same predicament from before, it hadn’t been that long since she had been friends with everyone in fact. She was still getting used to it, and her feelings grew as each day passed by.

She remembered when Lila introduced herself to the whole class, and at first glance, anyone would just think she was an innocent little girl. But behind that smile, behind those eyes, held a sinister intention.

She, in less than an hour, had everyone wrapped around her little finger.

Even her.

She’d been on a private jet?

Had a song written about her?

And saved Jagged Stone’s cat?

There was no way Adrien would fall for her now.

…So maybe she had been jealous of that girl before she had done anything. But she had every reason to. She, Lila, was pressed against Adrien who was happily talking to her. The love of her life! She had to do something, even if Alya had given her a disappointed look she just had to stop them from confessing their love to each other, it was inevitable now, so she followed after them to the park. If they even got too close, she was sure she could just conveniently interrupt, she just had to wait for the perfect moment, she only had a couple of hours before they would fall in love, get married, have three kids and a hamster named-

“Wow Adrien, you’re so nice to me. Y’know I really thought moving here would be just like all the other times. But you’ve really made me enjoy my first day Adrien.” She smiled so sickly sweet Marinette wanted to hurl, how dare she just hold onto his arm like that, so affectionately!

“Its no problem Lila, that’s what friends are for.” She smiled, hugging him so fast they almost lost their balance from sitting on the bench, before seemingly giving him a quick peck on his cheek, only for Adrien to turn his head towards her.

And they kissed.

However, it wasn’t a simple quick kiss, by all means, Adrien should’ve realised his mistake and pulled away.

But he didn’t, what felt like forever lasted a minute. One minute to realise that it should’ve been an accident. But they stayed like that.

It- it was over, wasn’t it? This wasn’t her being melodramatic, she just knew how it would turn out. They were going to fall in love so soon, she wouldn’t have a chance.

If only she had seen the look Lila gave, spotting her retreated form from behind a small trash can, the smirk would’ve given her shivers.

***

Getting back to Collège had taken longer than expected. Maybe it was the small amount of dread knowing she may have lost her love for good. Sure, there might have been Kagami as well, she had tried to sabotage her chances with Adrien too, but it always worked out in the end, Adrien always smiling as Kagami’s cheeks burned with redness. But to say they were friends afterwards.

Marinette would cringe at the fact she always felt so relieved afterwards reflecting years later at her choices. But she had always believed she would still have a chance.

Until today.

Lila came, and took him away, within hours.

And she couldn’t stop it.

Walking along the stairs to her class she had to keep her head held high, if she showed weakness, that would mean she was sad, she wasn’t sad, she couldn’t be sad. She still had all of her friends after all.

Maybe now, they could do more activities, after crying and eating a ton of ice cream of course with cheesy movies to brighten her mood up.

But, this would only be the beginning of that negative feeling.

Opening the door, she would be fully aware of something terribly wrong. At the front of the classroom, a crowd had formed, and a crowd that would soon become a routine in this classroom.

But a crowd formed around a girl, the new girl, Lila. She had seemed to be covering her eyes, water dripping down her eyes, no wait they were tears. What had happened?

She didn’t realise she had spoken those few words before heads turned around, looking- no glaring at her, why were they-? What had she done?

“Marinette I knew you could be a tad jealous but to actually do something like that” Huh? Oh no, Lila must’ve noticed she followed them, how embarrassing, and definitely not the best first impression she could’ve made.

Before she could apologise, before she could explain she really didn’t mean any harm. She didn’t have time to.

“To threaten her to never talk to Adrien again because she likes him. Well, I never thought you’d put your jealousy out like this.”

What!?-

No- she didn’t- she, just saw them kiss.

She didn’t even speak with her.

Why would she say this?

Why didn’t she say anything?

Why wasn’t she defending herself?

Why was she letting them believe that so easily?

Why

Why

Why.

.

Why was it so hard to breathe?

Running out of the classroom was easier than looking at all of those faces. Those accusatory faces. She hated it, she couldn’t do- defend- explain.

She- just-

She-

She-

She-

She was in a room?

The bathroom.

It didn’t matter why, as long as she was alone, she could cry to her heart's content.

The fear seeped over her just like that first time, knowing Chloé had won and would never stop, she had lost and lost everything.

Everything she had worked so hard to obtain.

Everything she had worked so hard to keep.

To make sure she didn’t have to let go.

And now it had gone.

Because it was then Marinette realised. That girl, those tears hadn’t been real, there she saw her eyes hadn’t been red or puffy, the tears’ dried up rather quickly, and the inconsistent wails made it very likely she was only doing them for effect and sympathy.

That girl. Was lying!

That must’ve been it.

No way could she be telling the truth. And no way could ‘I saw her around me and Adrien’ be translated to ‘she threatened me, I’m so scared of her’

Maybe, maybe with that, there was hope.

If she could just simply convince her friends that she was lying, then everything would be all sorted.

And maybe she and Adrien-

Wait, she was getting a little ahead of herself there.

Wiping her tears away she proudly opened the door, ready to face her fears.

Too bad her fears were much much stronger.

No matter how many times she would try to prove her innocence, it became worse.

When she tried going to the teachers, they bat an eye with her responses. Obviously not taking her seriously, and just believing it to be some teenage drama, she was pushed out of the classroom and told to try and just be nicer and make friends with her.

That was harsh but expected.

She tried talking with Alya, she turned away from her. Not wanting to hear anything come out of a crazy stalkers mouth.

That had hurt.

She tried talking with any of her other friends, y’know, the ones who ‘always’ had her back.

They too turned from her. Believing Lila without a doubt, I mean, they knew how jealous Marinette could get, it wasn’t that much of a stretch to think she would jump to that, considering the situation.

That felt like a punch to her gut.

She tried talking with Adrien, even if she did stutter and always lose her words around him. But this was more important, than a silly crush.

.

She wasn’t used to saying that.

But, the way he looked at her, it felt like- pity.

He told her he already knew.

He already knew? Wait- then why didn’t he say anything?

Because, as the naïve little boy stood so tall and ‘innocent’ he simply wanted to help her through his own way.

“She was only lying for attention,” He said.

“Once she finally makes some real friends, she’ll stop,” He said!

“In the meantime, you should really drop this, it would be just awful if you were to hurt Lila again. After all, she hasn’t hurt anyone, she doesn’t mean any harm”

.

.

She stood in shock.

This was the boy she had fell for?

This spineless- foolish- Son of a-

“So please Marinette, don’t cause too many problems for her, you shouldn’t be so harsh on her. If you really value our friendship, you’ll do it.” He smiled before walking off, leaving her to her thoughts.

That felt like someone had walked over to her, ripped out her heart and squashed it in the palm of her hands, all while grinning.

Why, why wasn’t she able to see before? Did her heart want to deceive her by falsifying all of his qualities? Was she just blind to bear witness to him not being as perfect as she made him out to be? Was it because she just couldn’t entertain the thought of letting go?

She didn’t know, she just hated this negative feeling. It felt so familiar. She wanted it to go away.

Unfortunately, that feeling would only grow for months.

And it was about to be worse.

“Huh? Marinette? Why are you crying? If this is about what happened this morning, don’t worry, I’ll forgive you” She was crying? Huh, when did that happen?

Whatever, more importantly.

“W-What, no you don’t have to forgive me because I did nothing wrong” Lila’s worried expression faltered for a bit before she grew ‘scared’

“H-Hey, I didn’t realise you felt like that. Oh, you poor thing” Her eyebrow snapped, she seriously didn’t like being called a thing.

“Save it, I can’t prove it but I know you’re just lying to everyone here. And you need to stop, you’re going to hurt everyone when they find out. You need to confess” Her face faltered again, but it never recovered, her once innocent eyes hardened as she smirked, a look that seemed almost natural, as if she had perfected it by looking into a mirror countless times.

“Oh, so you’ve finally figured it out? Figures, I was told you were the smartest one, and it seems like I wasn’t wrong”

“What?” Lila sighed, maybe she had put too much faith in her being the smartest.

“Ugh, you’re so young Marinette. I haven’t told the truth all my life, why the hell should I start now?” Marinette was stunned, why, why was she telling her this?

“Honestly, and I thought Adrien was naïve. Look, I’m not here to play games, I have this whole routine wrapped up. So just sit back, stay out of my way and I might consider making another lie that would benefit you.” It was an offer any reasonable person wouldn’t refuse.

Unfortunately for her, she didn’t want a reasonable offer.

Marinette stared, she was- she was fully aware of what she was doing?

“B-But you’re going to end up hurting everyone, you need to stop, please!” She begged.

Lila frowned.

She was just like all the rest.

“I don’t care”

Huh?

“I said I don’t care, seriously don’t you get it yet? I’m here to win by all means necessary. You were in the way so I took you out. They are just little trophies to remind you of my victory. You had your chance”

She stood still, this situation felt so familiar, but she had to stay strong, she couldn’t give up now. If reasoning with her won’t work, then maybe understanding might, and she could work with that.

“Why are you doing this, do you really not care about when you get caught? About how everyone will feel when they know you promised nothing in the end?” She hoped she would see some sense. They were good people, they shouldn’t be manipulated into this, she was sure they would’ve been friends regardless of what she had promised.

“It’s because I can”

.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean, dear sweet Marinette, is that because I am able to, I can. I’ve had years of practice with this, and the result always has me at the top, all that oppose me either stay at the bottom or beg for mercy from moi. It's always a delight to see their hope diminish. To realise they would do anything but to be alone.”

Alone- that word, that word stuck with her so much.

She didn’t want that- but she didn’t want her friends to be tricked either.

“Besides, you made it so easy for me, in reality. You only have yourself to blame”

“What- I didn’t even-” A finger was wagged in front of her face.

“Ah ah ah. You really should know better than that. A calendar full of Adrien’s schedule? A box full of presents for Adrien? Sabotaging dates? You’d think I’d have made it all up, it only made the end result so much greater. Seriously Marinette, I don’t even know if I’m the bad guy here, what you’ve done really isn’t appropriate behaviour. But I do know of a great therapist, they helped me through such a hard time” Lila continued to talk as Marinette zoned out. She was the bad guy? No- no that couldn’t be, that was just a harmless crush, that was just what normal teenaged girls did.

But- if it was. Then why didn’t anyone tell her it was wrong, she didn’t mean for it to be wrong. She just didn’t want them to leave, she just didn’t want to be abandoned again.

Why didn’t they say? Why didn’t she realise?

Why did she know?

Lila must’ve seen the shock as she giggled, not at all innocent.

“It was so easy manipulating all of them into telling me about this ‘crush’, once they realised just how crazy it actually was, they had no problem seeing you for the crazy stalker you are.” Lila flicked her hair up away, only for it to come back, but it didn’t matter, she made her point.

Not having the energy to look up, she would’ve noticed Lila had left her behind, laughing too, because no one had been there to overhear their absolutely private conversation. Her overall plan would not be undiscovered today, tomorrow, or the next. It wouldn’t be discovered ever.

Because she was in control.

Marinette, wasn’t in control.

Just like before, that hollow feeling from before, it was back.

And so much worse.

.

She hated Lila, because she made her realise, she was right. All along. And she just had to accept it.

And gave up trying.

She reverted back to how she was at the beginning of the year.

The quiet girl that no one paid attention to, alone, in the back, with nothing but her sketchbook.

Gone were the childish pigtails, it was for the better, no one said anything about then anymore.

Because she realised.

She wasn’t a child anymore.

She couldn’t be, not after this.

***

Hey, so I guess this was more like another prologue, so I’ll have to apologise if it seems just like the other one, but the premise is still the same so yeah.

And I think I might like the idea of a non-Miraculous world; it seems interesting since I feel like Marinette wouldn’t have as much of a confidence boost since she wouldn’t be Ladybug, please tell me that would make sense.

I think it’s interesting for how much would change and stay the same, and my OC will be making an entrance next time, however, here they are all like 13-14. The next chapter will have a time skip of 3 years, oh and Lila came in late, like around Season 3 late ok? So they already know about Kagami and Luka.

Also if you’re confused about anything feel free to ask any questions.

Cya next time.

Note: Please tell me if I should add anything else to the card, there will be one of these cards for all 15 chapters, however, because I have uni work all updates will be slower because I really need to focus on the uni stuff, then I might be able to upload quicker.

#ml salt #ml salt fic #miraculous ladybug salt #ml bashing #ml class salt #alya salt #ml alya salt #lila salt #ml lila salt #adrien salt #ml adrien salt #slight marinette salt #miraculous au #there are no miraculous #but are hero's #miraculous ladybug fanon #forget what else to tag #sorry #please comment #have a good day #hope you like it #1st of 15 i think

[plumso]

in your eyes

pairing: Cedric Diggory x fem!Reader 

summary: Cedric, a hardworking student who wants to make everyone around him proud, feels vulnerable when around you, and so he tries to avoid you at all cost.

warnings: n/a

A/N: Hello! This is my first fanfiction (on this site hehe), and I’m glad that it’s about my favorite boy Ced :) Please enjoy and let me what you think!

I do not give permission for my work to be reposted!

music suggestion: the luckiest by Ben Folds

I do not own the image

Sprawled in the middle of the Quidditch field with her comfy blanket laid underneath her, Y/N stared into the depths of the starry night. Though it was a dark, moonless, and cloudless night, it made it all the more easier to see the stars and the meteor shower. With each striking, short-lived comet painted on the sky, she giggled and mentally counted every shooting star she was lucky to witness.

No one wanted to join her tonight; it was far too cold and risky to sneak out in the middle of the night to see a bunch of stars. However, she wasn’t alone. Little did she know that she had a spectator.

Cedric Diggory. One of the most beloved students of Hogwarts. He had Quidditch practice earlier that day and accidentally left some of his belongings on the side of the field. And so, using his prefect advantages, he decided to venture into the black, cold night to retrieve his things. Though, he quickly realized he wasn’t the only one there once he saw a single light emitted by a wand. 

He begrudgingly started to approach the strange light. Though he appreciated the honor of becoming a prefect, he quickly grew tired of the rigidness. Scolding a fellow student was emotionally draining, and he genuinely hated seeing the pained look on their faces. 

Before he reached the middle of the field, he stopped his tracks. The light from the wand glowed its beholder’s face, revealing the beautiful smile that Cedric dreaded. Y/N. 

Cedric remembered the day he first met her. It all started from the anxiously exciting train ride to Hogwarts in their first year, and the pair was coincidentally sitting next to each other. He remembered the massive number of kids entering Hogwarts that year and how her shoulders were leaning against his. Trying to avoid how conscious he was feeling around her, he conversed with the other students and laughed at all the myths the older students were trying to make the younger ones believe. Y/N, however, just sat there, observing the other students and Cedric. To him, it felt like her eyes were burning holes into him each time she gazed at him, but he pretended like he didn’t notice.

The whole train gradually quieted down as it neared Hogwarts. Many fell asleep, quickly tiring themselves out from all the excitement. However, Cedric and Y/N were still awake. Not a word daring to leave their lips, they simply stared outside the window and idly admired the passing scenery before them.

The silence was surprisingly comforting. This was strange to Cedric considering he always felt obligated to talk to others. But he somehow didn’t feel the need with Y/N, even though they haven’t properly introduced themselves yet.

Then, out of nowhere, Y/N turned her head to face Cedric, her eyes immediately on his. Cedric, shocked and conscious about how close they were, averted his eyes. He kept darting it everywhere except on her, but once he glanced over her eyes, he was stuck. As if there was a magnetic force beneath her kind orbs, he couldn’t pull away, even though his mind kept telling him to snap out of it.

After a few seconds (which felt like eons to Cedric), Y/N struck her hand forward and smiled. “Hi. I’m Y/N,” she said sweetly.

Breaking their eye contact to then stare at her hands, he gently held onto it and shook it. “Hi, I’m Cedric.”

Ever since that day, Cedric steered clear from her. He made sure that their friend groups didn’t coincide and that he sat far away from her in classes that they shared. It was also relatively easy to keep his mind off her, considering how busy he was with numerous social and academic events. However, in the rare moments in which he loosens his self-control, he lets his eyes wander to her. And, for some reason, she always seems to catch his stare.

Vulnerability has never been a comfortable feeling for Cedric. He always pushed himself for himself, his peers, and his father. “Nothing but the best for my son,” his father Amos would frequently say. Cedric would laugh when his father shows nothing but love and pride for his son, but it only added to his fear of disappointing him. And though slow nights would make Cedric ponder and contemplate on his obsessiveness to “be the best,” his mind would go back to his smiling father. And so, whenever he felt “weak,” he would have to remind himself that failure is not an option. 

But his fears become nonexistent once he’s locked in her eyes. He felt bare under her gaze as if she saw his anxieties, his fears, his pride, his ego, his guilt – his soul. In her stare, he felt whole and complete, his fear melting away. And so, before he completely lost himself in her eyes, he breaks away from it.

Though they don’t hang around each other much, Cedric knew much about her. She was lighthearted, open, accepting, and spontaneous; she was a creative being that seemed to find beauty within everything. Cedric saw this by how Y/N always makes her friends laugh each morning, or by how she tries to sneakily sleep during potions class by laying her head on her propped arm and covering her eyes with her hand. And even till now, with her lazy figure sprawled comfortably on rough grass as dementors roam the school grounds, she longingly stares into the sky as if she wants to join be part of it. 

Cedric stood only a couple of feet away from her, unsure of what to do. He must have looked like a complete creep, staring at an unknowing girl in the dark. But then, a gasp escaped from Y/N’s lips as she points at the sky. Cedric looks up and sees a small yet bright streak on the dark sky that lasted for only a millisecond. It was a shooting star. His first shooting star. Though he lived in a house along a great field with clear skies, he never saw a shooting star before. Perhaps his head was too focused on what was in front of him that he never bothered to look up.

A small chuckle to leave his lips. All the stress from the Triwizard competition, prefect duties, Quidditch captain responsibilities, and much more seemed nonexistent. He didn’t feel the need to fret or worry about it, his focus solely on the sky so he can see another beautiful shooting star. 

However, his chuckle seemed to give his presence away.

“Cedric? Is that you?”

The light from Y/N’s wand was now on his face, thus causing him to squint. “Uh, yeah. It’s me.” Cedric said as he covers his eyes with his hands. “Sorry to spook you. I just left some stuff from Quidditch practice.”

“Oh,” Y/N said before putting her wand to the side.

Though it took quite some time for Cedric’s eyes to be adjusted to the dark again, his eyes wandered immediately onto hers. Unsurprisingly, hers was already on his. Their stare was long, as usual, but something was different about it: Cedric. Perhaps it was the shooting star or her calming presence, but he didn’t feel like putting up his usual guard. However, rather than Cedric pulling away from the gaze, it was Y/N this time. This shocked him.

“So,” Y/N softly said, “I suppose I’m in trouble now.” 

While still a bit confused, he chuckled at her comment. “Seeing as this is your first offense, I’ll let you go. For now.”

She laughed, but it felt a bit heavy. A bit forced. “Well, I’ll start packing everything up now.”

“Oh, you don’t have to! You seem like you were having fun…” Cedric slowly stated, wondering if his comment revealed how he creepily stared at her not too long ago. “I don’t want to ruin your night.”

Y/N stared at him for a while, a puzzled look appeared on her face. She then nodded before looking up to the night sky. She silently stared at the stars for quite some time as Cedric studied her face. He greatly desired to know what she was thinking. It seemed like she was contemplating hard about something. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

This caught Cedric off guard. “What do you mean?”

“You’re always avoiding me. I thought you didn’t like me.”

Cedric felt guilt-ridden. He didn’t expect her to notice, yet he didn’t expect his actions to be obvious also. “I... I didn’t mean to avoid you. It’s just all so compl-“

“Have I done something to offend you?” Y/N shakily asked, the fear and hurt plain on her face. This panged Cedric’s heart.

“No!” Cedric exclaimed. “Not at all! That’s not why at all!”

“Then what? Why are you avoiding me?”

Cedric’s mouth hung open, hoping that words would automatically form for him, but no luck. His feet were fidgeting against each other as his eyes darted across the field, hoping that something will somehow help him answer the question. But then, his eyes fell upon her face. 

Cedric thought she looked breathtaking. Her hair ruffled, most likely due to her excitedly moving around against her blanket each time she saw a shooting star; her nose slightly red from the cold breeze; her large scarf wrapped too loosely around her neck; her eyes shined from the tears that were brimming. He felt like he was melting again, but this time, he couldn’t pull away. He didn’t even want to either.

Cedric stopped fidgeting and warmly smiled. “Can I sit next to you?”

Taken aback, Y/N sat in shock for a few seconds before nodding and scooting over. Cedric then sits next to her, his shoulder slightly touching hers. Realizing this, he lightheartedly chuckles. Enjoying the sound of his laugh, Y/N grins and gives him a puzzled look, which Cedric answers with another chuckle. Y/N stares at him like he’s a mad man before joining him in laughter, the tense atmosphere dissipating as fast as it came. 

The laughter then dies down a bit and is replaced with a comforting silence and smiles left on their face. Cedric then looks at Y/N and nudges her shoulder, thus causing her to look back at him. “Hey. I’m sorry. It’s not you, I can greatly assure you that. It’s just that… It’s really hard for me to talk about it, but…” Cedric started to feel anxious. After all, talking about his worries aloud was foreign and new to him. “When I’m with you, it feels different. Not that it’s bad! It’s just… I-It’s jus-“

Y/N places her hand on his and gently squeezes it before giving him a warm smile. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it all now.” She says as she rubs the back of his hand with her thumb. “I get it.” 

Cedric stares at her for a while, his heart fluttering and his stomach churning. New feelings that were deep within him seemed to be sprouting now that he allowed himself to pour some light on it.

He smiles back at her as he thoroughly enjoys the feeling of her hands on his. “Thanks.” 

Thus, they then retreat to their comforting silence as they stare back at the night sky. They excitedly pointed out each shooting star they saw as they stole glances of each other here and there. Dreading the morning sun, they continued to sit in the freezing dark with their hands still touching and their shoulders still leaning against each other.

#cedric diggory #harry potter #hp #cedric #cedric diggory x reader #hp fanfic #cedric oneshot #robert pattinson

[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 8: I Really Hate Water

The next few days I settled into a routine that felt almost normal, if you don't count the fact that I was getting lessons from satyrs, nymphs, and a centaur. Each morning I took Ancient Greek from Annabeth and sometimes Luke, and we talked about the gods and goddesses in the present tense, which was kind of weird. I discovered Annabeth was right about my dyslexia: Ancient Greek wasn't that hard for me to read. At least, no harder than English. After a couple of mornings, I could stumble through a few lines of Homer without too much headache. The rest of the day, I'd rotate through outdoor activities, looking for something I was good at. I had struck around with Percy the whole time unless it was dinner time or night where I spent with Luke. Chiron tried to teach Percy and I archery, and we found out pretty quick he wasn't any good with a bow and arrow. He didn't complain, even when he had to desnag a stray arrow out of his tail. It was hilarious. While I on the other hand, could compete against Merida and Hawkeye with wining in favor of me. Foot racing? He sucked. The wood-nymph instructors and I left him in the dust. I told him not to worry about it. They'd had centuries of practice running away from lovesick gods. But I guess, it was a little humiliating to be slower than a tree. And wrestling? Forget it. Every time he got on the mat, Clarisse would pulverize him. Luckily I took some martial arts class back then and stood some chance against her. "There's more where that came from, punk," she'd mumble. The only thing he really excelled at was canoeing, and that wasn't the kind of heroic skill people expected to see from the kid who had beaten the Minotaur I guess. But hey, He's better at canoeing than me. I don't even know how I drowned all the time. Percy had to save me a couple of times. I knew the senior campers and counselors were watching us, trying to decide who our Olympian parent was, but they weren't having an easy time of it. I was as strong as the Ares kids, or as good at archery as the Apollo kids. I have Hephaestus's skill with metalwork, luckily I didn't have Dionysus's way with vine plants. Luke told me Percy might be a child of Hermes, a kind of jack-of-all-trades, master of none. But I got the feeling he was just trying to make him feel better. He really didn't know what to make of me either. Despite all that, I liked camp. I got used to the morning fog over the beach, the smell of hot strawberry fields in the afternoon, even the weird noises of monsters in the woods at night. I would eat dinner with cabin eleven, scrape part of my meal into the fire, and try to feel some connection to my real parent. Nothing came. I tried not to think too much about my mom and dad, but I kept wondering: if gods and monsters were real, if all this magical stuff was possible, surely there was some way to save them, to bring them back.... Even D/N would do...

I started to understand Luke's bitterness and how he seemed to resent his father, Hermes. So okay, maybe gods had important things to do. But couldn't they call once in a while, or thunder, or something? Dionysus could make Diet Coke appear out of thin air. Why couldn't my parent, whoever they were, make a phone appear? Thursday afternoon, three days after we'd arrived at Camp Half-Blood, I had my first sword-fighting lesson. Everybody from cabin eleven gathered in the big circular arena, where Luke would be our instructor. We started with basic stabbing and slashing, using some straw-stuffed dummies in Greek armor. I did okay. At least, I understood what I was supposed to do and my reflexes were good. The problem was, I couldn't find a blade that felt right in my hands. Either they were too heavy, or too light, or too long. Luke tried his best to fix me up, but he agreed that none of the practice blades seemed to work for me. We moved on to dueling in pairs. Luke announced he would be Percy's partner, since this was his first time. And then my turn after his, so I had to train with another kid from the cabin. "Good luck," one of the campers told us. "Luke's the best swordsman in the last three hundred years." "Maybe he'll go easy on me," Percy said. The camper snorted. By the time he called a break, I was soaked in sweat. Everybody swarmed the drinks cooler. Luke poured ice water on his head, which looked like such a good idea. I turned to talk to Percy and he had done the same. "Okay, everybody circle up!" Luke ordered. "If Percy doesn't mind, I want to give you a little demo." I wanted to try going against Luke as well. I wasn't confident with my skills. The Hermes guys gathered around. They were suppressing smiles. I figured they'd been in his shoes before and couldn't wait to see how Luke used Percy for a punching bag. He told everybody he was going to demonstrate a disarming technique: how to twist the enemy's blade with the flat of your own sword so that he had no choice but to drop his weapon. "This is difficult," he stressed. "I've had it used against me. No laughing at Percy, now. Most swordsmen have to work years to master this technique." He demonstrated the move on me in slow motion. Sure enough, the sword clattered out of his hand. "Now in real time," he said, after Percy had retrieved his weapon. "We keep sparring until one of us pulls it off. Ready, Percy?" He nodded, and Luke came after him. After a while of clashing, Percy tried the disarming maneuver. His blade hit the base of Luke's and he twisted. Clang. Luke's sword rattled against the stones. The tip of Percy's blade was an inch from his undefended chest. The other campers were silent. He lowered his sword. "Um, sorry." For a moment, Luke was too stunned to speak. I had a huge grin on my face. I had no idea why, but I was proud. I was so close on giving him an encore and all that. "Sorry?" Luke's scarred face broke into a grin. "By the gods, Percy, why are you sorry? Show me that again!" I didn't want to. The short burst of manic energy had completely abandoned me. But Luke insisted. This time, there was no contest. The moment our swords connected, Luke hit my hilt and sent my weapon skidding across the floor. After a long pause, somebody in the audience said, "Beginner's luck?" Luke wiped the sweat off his brow. He appraised at me with an entirely new interest. "Maybe," he said. "But I wonder what Percy could do with a balanced sword... ." My time with Luke wasn't as amazing as Percy's was but I wasn't that bad. Friday afternoon, I was sitting with Grover and Percy at the lake, resting from a near-death experience on the climbing wall. Grover had scampered to the top like a mountain goat, but the lava had almost gotten me. Percy and I's shirts had smoking holes in it. The hairs had been singed off our forearms. We sat on the pier, watching the naiads do underwater basket-weaving, I was resting my back on Percy's since I felt like any moment they'd drown me. Percy then ask Grover how his conversation had gone with Mr. D. His face turned a sickly shade of yellow. "Fine," he said. "Just great." "So your career's still on track?" He glanced at me nervously. "Chiron t-told you I want a searcher's license?" "Well... no." I had no idea what a searcher's license was, but it didn't seem like the right time to ask. "He just said you had big plans, you know... and that you needed credit for completing a keeper's assignment. So did you get it?" Percy said. Grover looked down at the naiads. "Mr. D suspended judgment. He said I hadn't failed or succeeded with you yet, so our fates were still tied together. If you got a quest and I went along to protect you, and we both came back alive, then maybe he'd consider the job complete." "Well, that's not so bad, right?" "Blaa-ha-ha! He might as well have transferred me to stable-cleaning duty. The chances of you getting a quest... and even if you did, why would you want me along?" "Of course I'd want you along!" Grover stared glumly into the water. "Basket-weaving... Must be nice to have a useful skill." I tried to reassure him that he had lots of talents, but that just made him look more miserable. Percy and him talked about canoeing and swordplay for a while, then debated the pros and cons of the different gods. Finally, I asked him about the four empty cabins. "Number eight, the silver one, belongs to Artemis," he said. "She vowed to be a maiden forever. So of course, no kids. The cabin is, you know, honorary. If she didn't have one, she'd be mad." "Yeah, okay. But the other three, the ones at the end. Are those the Big Three?" Grover tensed. We were getting close to a touchy subject. "No. One of them, number two, is Hera's," he said. "That's another honorary thing. She's the goddess of marriage, so of course she wouldn't go around having affairs with mortals. That's her husband's job. When we say the Big Three, we mean the three powerful brothers, the sons of Kronos." "Zeus, Poseidon, Hades." "Right. You know. After the great battle with the Titans, they took over the world from their dad and drew lots to decide who got what." "Zeus got the sky," I remembered. "Poseidon the sea, Hades the Underworld." "Uh-huh." "But Hades doesn't have a cabin here." "No. He doesn't have a throne on Olympus, either. He sort of does his own thing down in the Underworld. If he did have a cabin here..." Grover shuddered. "Well, it wouldn't be pleasant. Let's leave it at that." "Why though? What would children of Hades do then? How would they fend themselves?" "I-I don't know... Its not my idea not adding Hades!" He shrieked as if he was at fault and felt guilty. "But Zeus and Poseidon—they both had, like, a bazillion kids in the myths. Why are their cabins empty?" Percy changed the subject. Grover shifted his hooves uncomfortably. "About sixty years ago, after World War II, the Big Three agreed they wouldn't sire any more heroes. Their children were just too powerful. They were affecting the course of human events too much, causing too much carnage. World War II, you know, that was basically a fight between the sons of Zeus and Poseidon on one side, and the sons of Hades on the other. The winning side, Zeus and Poseidon, made Hades swear an oath with them: no more affairs with mortal women. They all swore on the River Styx." Thunder boomed.. . . . . .. I said, "That's the most serious oath you can make." Grover nodded. "And the brothers kept their word—no kids?" Grover's face darkened. "Seventeen years ago, Zeus fell off the wagon. There was this TV starlet with a big fluffy eighties hairdo—he just couldn't help himself. When their child was born, a little girl named Thalia... well, the River Styx is serious about promises. Zeus himself got off easy because he's immortal, but he brought a terrible fate on his daughter." "But that isn't fair.' It wasn't the little girl's fault." Grover hesitated. "Percy, children of the Big Three have powers greater than other half-bloods. They have a strong aura, a scent that attracts monsters. When Hades found out about the girl, he wasn't too happy about Zeus breaking his oath. Hades let the worst monsters out of Tartarus to torment Thalia. A satyr was assigned to be her keeper when she was twelve, but there was nothing he could do. He tried to escort her here with a couple of other half-bloods she'd befriended. They almost made it. They got all the way to the top of that hill." He pointed across the valley, to the pine tree where we'd fought the minotaur. "All three Kindly Ones were after them, along with a horde of hellhounds. They were about to be overrun when Thalia told her satyr to take the other two half-bloods to safety while she held off the monsters. She was wounded and tired, and she didn't want to live like a hunted animal. The satyr didn't want to leave her, but he couldn't change her mind, and he had to protect the others. So Thalia made her final stand alone, at the top of that hill. As she died, Zeus took pity on her. He turned her into that pine tree. Her spirit still helps protect the borders of the valley. That's why the hill is called Half-Blood Hill." I stared at the pine in the distance. The story made me feel hollow, and guilty too. A girl my age had sacrificed herself to save her friends. She had faced a whole army of monsters. "Grover," Percy said, "have heroes really gone on quests to the Underworld?" "Sometimes," he said. "Orpheus. Hercules. Houdini." "And have they ever returned somebody from the dead?" "No. Never. Orpheus came close... . Percy, you're not seriously thinking—" "No," Percy said. "I was just wondering. So... a satyr is always assigned to guard a demigod?" I looked over to him warily. "Not always. We go undercover to a lot of schools. We try to sniff out the half-bloods who have the makings of great heroes. If we find one with a very strong aura, like a child of the Big Three, we alert Chiron. He tries to keep an eye on them, since they could cause really huge problems." "And you found me. Chiron said you thought I might be something special." Grover looked as if I'd just led him into a trap. "I didn't... Oh, listen, don't think like that. If you were—you know—you'd never ever be allowed a quest, and I'd never get my license. You're probably a child of Hermes. Or maybe even one of the minor gods, like Nemesis, the god of revenge. Don't worry, okay?" I got the idea he was reassuring himself more than us. "What about me?" They looked at me. "Chiron said you didn't know I was a half-blood..." "We didn't. When you didn't forget who... Mrs Dodds was. We thought you just saw through the mist. Then when I saw you with Percy that night... and your parents aware of me and the camp. I assumed you were... a half-blood." "How about now? What do I smell like?" He looked at me gingerly then at Percy, "Nothing. You smell too human. Even for a very minor god. That's why there are plenty of satyrs then are confused as to why there's a human here. That night after dinner, there was a lot more excitement than usual. At last, it was time for capture the flag. When the plates were cleared away, the horn sounded and we all stood at our tables. Campers yelled and cheered as Annabeth and two of her siblings ran into the pavilion carrying a silk banner. It was about ten feet long, glistening gray, with a painting of a barn owl above an olive tree. From the opposite side of the pavilion, Clarisse and her buddies ran in with another banner, of identical size, but gaudy red, painted with a bloody spear and a boar's head. I turned to Luke and yelled over the noise, "Those are the flags?" "Yeah." "Ares and Athena always lead the teams?" "Not always," he said. "But often." "So, if another cabin captures one, what do you do— repaint the flag?" He grinned. "You'll see. First we have to get one." "Whose side are we on?" He gave me a sly look, as if he knew something I didn't. "We've made a temporary alliance with Athena. Tonight, we get the flag from Ares. And Percy's going to help." The teams were announced. Athena had made an alliance with Apollo and Hermes, the two biggest cabins. Apparently, privileges had been traded—shower times, chore schedules, the best slots for activities—in order to win support. Ares had allied themselves with everybody else: Dionysus, Demeter, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus. From what I'd seen, Dionysus's kids were actually good athletes, but there were only two of them. Demeter's kids had the edge with nature skills and outdoor stuff but they weren't very aggressive. Aphrodite's sons and daughters I wasn't too worried about. They mostly sat out every activity and checked their reflections in the lake and did their hair and gossiped. Hephaestus's kids weren't pretty, and there were only four of them, but they were big and burly from working in the metal shop all day. They might be a problem. That, of course, left Ares's cabin: a dozen of the biggest, ugliest, meanest kids on Long Island, or anywhere else on the planet. Chiron hammered his hoof on the marble. "Heroes!" he announced. "You know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!" He spread his hands, and the tables were suddenly covered with equipment: helmets, bronze swords, spears, oxide shields coated in metal. "Whoa," I said. "We're really supposed to use these?" Luke looked at me and laughed. "Unless you want to get skewered by your friends in cabin five. Here—Chiron thought these would fit. Do you want to be border patrol with Percy or come with me?" I smiled at him, "Tempting offer but I think I'll stay with Percy." "Your lost." He smirked then ruffled my hair. I went over to Percy who was holding a shield was the size of an NBA backboard, with a big caduceus in the middle. Our helmet, like all the helmets on Athena's side, had a blue horsehair plume on top. Ares and their allies had red plumes. "Looking at real good." I laughed. He frowned at me. "Like you look that different." "I am sporting this helmet just fine excuse you." I said picking up a dagger from the table. Annabeth yelled, "Blue team, forward!" We cheered and shook our swords and followed her down the path to the south woods. The red team yelled taunts at us as they headed off toward the north. Percy and I managed to catch up with Annabeth without him tripping over my equipment. "Hey." She kept marching. "So what's the plan?" Percy asked. "Got any magic items you can loan me?" Her hand drifted toward her pocket, as if she were afraid I'd stolen something. "Just watch Clarisse's spear," she said. "You don't want that thing touching you. Otherwise, don't worry. We'll take the banner from Ares. Has Luke given you your job?" "Border patrol, whatever that means." "It's easy. Stand by the creek, keep the reds away. Leave the rest to me. Athena always has a plan." She pushed ahead, leaving me in the dust. "Okay," he mumbled. "Glad you wanted me on your team." "I don't want to be near the creek." I said anxiously. "Maybe I should just go with Luke..." Percy then took my hand. "Since when have I ever let you drown? Don't worry. I'll be there for you." He smiled. With a pout and a worried look I stuck out my pinky said, "Promise me." "I swear I will never let you drown. I will save you with all I can." He swore connecting our pinkies. "Everyone knows pinky promises are better than Styx." We laughed and made our way to our station not letting go of each other's hands. It was a warm, sticky night. The woods were dark, with fireflies popping in and out of view. Annabeth stationed us next to a little creek that gurgled over some rocks, then she and the rest of the team scattered into the trees. The bronze sword, like all the swords I'd tried so far, seemed balanced wrong. The leather grip pulled on my hand like a bowling ball. There was no way anybody would actually attack me, would they? I mean, Olympus had to have liability issues, right? Far away, the horn blew. I heard whoops and yells in the woods, the clanking of metal, kids fighting. A blue-plumed ally from Apollo raced past me like a deer, leaped through the creek, and disappeared into enemy territory. I lied down on the ground. "This is so boring." "Stand up, who knows when an enemy will show up." He scolded pulling me up. "I don't know... I think I'd rather shrivel and die." I shrugged. "Plus I know I got a knight in shining helmet to save me." "I mean yeah of course you do." "Luke's like few meters away after all." I smirked. He turned to me with a frown and a 'not funny' face. Which made me laugh. Then I heard a sound that sent a chill up my spine, a low canine growl, somewhere close by. I stood up and Percy pulled me behind him as he raised his shield instinctively; I had the feeling something was stalking me. Then the growling stopped. I felt the presence retreating. On the other side of the creek, the underbrush exploded. Five Ares warriors came yelling and screaming out of the dark. "Cream the punk!" Clarisse screamed. Her ugly pig eyes glared through the slits of her helmet. She brandished a five-foot-long spear, its barbed metal tip flickering with red light. Her siblings had only the standard-issue bronze swords—not that that made me feel any better. They charged across the stream. There was no help in sight. I could run and leave Percy. Or I could defend myself against half the Ares cabin with no more than 9 inch dagger and Percy Jackson. I managed to sidestep the first kid's swing, but these guys were not as stupid the Minotaur. They surrounded me and Percy, while Clarisse thrust at us with her spear. Percy's shield deflected the point. My hair stood on end. "Electricity. Her stupid spear was electric." Percy groaned and I pulled him back. Another Ares guy slammed me in the chest with the butt of his sword and I hit the dirt. They could've kicked me into jelly, but they were too busy laughing. "Y/N!!" Percy yelled but he had a sword pointed at his throat. "Give her a haircut," Clarisse said. "Grab her hair." I managed to get to my feet. I raised my dagger, but Clarisse slammed it aside with her spear as sparks flew. Now my arm numb. "Oh, wow," Clarisse said. "I'm scared of this guy. Really scared." "The flag is that way, let her go!" Percy told her. "Yeah," one of her siblings said. "But see, we don't care about the flag. We care about a guys who made our cabin look stupid." "You do that without my help," I told them. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to say. Someone took a hold of Percy so the sword was no longer pointed at him. Two of them came at me. I backed up toward the creek, tried to raise arm, but Clarisse was too fast. Her spear stuck me straight in the ribs. If I hadn't been wearing an armored breastplate, I would've been shish-ke-babbed. As it was, the electric point just about shocked my teeth out of my mouth. One of her cabinmates slashed his sword across my arm, leaving a good-size cut. Seeing my own blood made me dizzy—warm and cold at the same time. "No maiming," I managed to say. "Oops," the guy said. "Guess I lost my dessert privilege." "Y/N!! I will kill you all!!" He was thrashing around. "Let her go! She can't swim!!" "It's fun seeing your girlfriend suffer ain't it?" Clarisse laughed. The guy finally pushed me into the creek and I landed with a splash. They all laughed. I figured as soon as they were through being amused, I would die. I was sinking. I couldn't breathe. The water was pulling me for what felt like 10 meters deep. Blood were coming out at every wound I had. I was loosing consciousness. Help me. Please... -With Percy- Clarisse and her cabinmates came into the creek to get you, but you weren't there. "Hey, she's missing?" One of the cabinmate said. "What? It's like 3 meters deep. She's just there." Clarisse scoffed. "I's telling you she's can't swim! Water pulls her down! I will kill you if she doesn't survive!" Percy managed to get power from somewhere and got out of the hold. He knew what to do. I swung the flat of my sword against the first guy's head and knocked his helmet clean off. I hit him so hard I could see his eyes vibrating as he crumpled into the water. Then he jumped down. Hoping to see you somewhere. Muttering your name over and over in hopes to catch you. Save us He heard from his right. When he turned he finally saw you at the bottom. He swam with all could and got a hold of you. To haul you up. Finally surfacing, Percy panted and laid you of the ground. Pumping your chest. When the water finally came out of your mouth. Percy turned to glare at the people. Ugly Number Two and Ugly Number Three came at me. He slammed one in the face with his shield and used his sword to shear off the other guy's horsehair plume. Both of them backed up quick. Ugly Number Four didn't look really anxious to attack, but Clarisse kept coming, the point of her spear crackling with energy. As soon as she thrust, he caught the shaft between the edge of my shield and my sword, and I snapped it like a twig. "Ah!" she screamed. "You idiot! You corpse-breath worm!" She probably would've said worse, but Percy smacked her between the eyes with his sword-butt and sent her stumbling backward out of the creek. -Back to you- Coughing myself awake. Water came out of my mouth. "Percy..." I called. He turned so fast that I was surprised his neck didn't snap. "Y/N!" He ran to me and pulled me in a hug. I couldn't move, I felt tired and weak. "I want to sleep." I could feel my wounds stinging. Cold air hitting it. I felt sore despite barely moving. Then I heard yelling, elated screams, we both turned and I saw Luke racing toward the boundary line with the red team's banner lifted high. He was flanked by a couple of Hermes guys covering his retreat, and a few Apollos behind them, fighting off the Hephaestus kids. The Ares folks got up, and Clarisse muttered a dazed curse. "A trick!" she shouted. "It was a trick." They staggered after Luke, but it was too late. Everybody converged on the creek as Luke ran across into friendly territory. Our side exploded into cheers. The red banner shimmered and turned to silver. The boar and spear were replaced with a huge caduceus, the symbol of cabin eleven. Everybody on the blue team picked up Luke and started carrying him around on their shoulders. Chiron cantered out from the woods and blew the horn. The game was over. We'd won. Percy carried me still with an angry expression and tense body. I wanted to reassure him but I knew it wouldn't work. Luke looked over and saw us. I could see his sudden shift of emotion. He wanted to approach but he was surrounded by every cabin. We then heard Annabeth's voice, right next to us in the creek, said, "Not bad, hero." I wanted to turn to see her but I couldn't. I could barely keep my eyes open. "Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?" she asked. The air shimmered, and she materialized, holding a Yankees baseball cap as if she'd just taken it off her head. She was now in front of us. I felt Percy tense up once more. "You set us up, You put us here because you knew Clarisse would come after me, while you sent Luke around the flank. You had it all figured out." Annabeth shrugged. "I told you. Athena always, always has a plan." "Because of you, Y/N is like this." The venom in his voice were obvious. "I came as fast as I could. I was about to jump in, but..." She shrugged. "You didn't need help." "I didn't. But Y/N did! And what did you do?! She could've died!" Percy was shaking. I could feel it. "Calm..." I managed to whimper. "What's that?" Annabeth pointed at Percy's neck. "A sword cut, obviously." "No. It was a sword cut. Look at it." The blood was gone. Where the huge cut had been, there was a long white scratch, and even that was fading. As I watched, it turned into a small scar, and disappeared. "I—I don't get it," Percy said. Annabeth was thinking hard. I could almost see the gears turning. She looked down at our feet, then at Clarisse's broken spear, and said, "Step out of the water, Percy." "What—" "Just do it." He came out of the creek and immediately I could feel myself better. Percy almost fell over, but I managed to hold him. "I got you." I panted. "Oh, Styx," she cursed. "This is not good. I didn't want... I assumed it would be Zeus... ." Before I could ask what she meant, I heard that canine growl again, but much closer than before. A howl ripped through the forest. The campers' cheering died instantly. Chiron shouted something in Ancient Greek, which I would realize, only later, I had understood perfectly: "Stand ready! My bow!" Annabeth drew her sword. I drew my dagger and pushed Percy behind me. There on the rocks just above us was a black hound the size of a rhino, with lava-red eyes and fangs like daggers. It was looking straight at me. Nobody moved except Annabeth, who yelled, "Percy, Y/N, run!" She tried to step in front of me, but the hound was too fast. It leaped over her—an enormous shadow with teeth—and just as it hit me, I was pushed aside as Percy stumbled backward and its razor-sharp claws ripping through his armor, there was a cascade of thwacking sounds, like forty pieces of paper being ripped one after the other. "Stop that!!" I screamed and somehow managed to grab her. She turned to me sharply and stared me down. As if she was waiting for the perfect opportunity to jump me. It approached me and settled down at my feet, sitting down as if she was an obedient dog. She watched as I catch my breath. From the hounds neck sprouted a cluster of arrows. The monster fell dead at my feet. By some miracle, I was still alive, and wasn't even hurt. I instantly turned to look uat Percy. His chest wet, and I knew it was badly cut. Another second, and the monster would've turned him into a hundred pounds of delicatessen meat. Chiron trotted up next to us, a bow in his hand, his face grim. "Di immortales!" Annabeth said. "That's a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don't... they're not supposed to... How did..." "Someone summoned it," Chiron said. "Someone inside the camp." Luke came over, the banner in his hand forgotten, his moment of glory gone. Clarisse yelled, "It's all Y/N's fault! Y/N summoned it!" "Be quiet, child," Chiron told her. We watched the body of the hellhound melt into shadow, soaking into the ground until it disappeared. "You're wounded," Annabeth told Percy. "Quick, Percy, get in the water." "I'm okay." "No, you're not, Y/N get him to the water," she said. "Chiron, watch this." "No... She doesn't do well in water..." Percy choked. I carefully swung his arm around my shoulders and without thinking twice, I stepped back into the creek, the whole camp gathering around us. Instantly, I felt weak. I could feel the pulling me down. Some of the campers gasped. Percy who could barely stand few minutes ago got a hold of me. I could feel my consciousness loosing once again. "Look, I—I don't know why," Percy said, trying to apologize. "I'm sorry... But I need to get out of here. Y/N---" But they weren't watching Percy's wounds heal. They were staring at something above our head. "Percy," Annabeth said, pointing. "Um..." By the time I looked up, the sign was already fading, but I could still make out the hologram of green light, spinning and gleaming. A three-tipped spear: a trident. "Your father," Annabeth murmured. "This is really not good." "It is determined," Chiron announced. All around us, campers started kneeling, even the Ares cabin, though they didn't look happy about it. "My father?" Percy asked, completely bewildered. "Poseidon," said Chiron. "Earth shaker, Storm bringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God." Percy looked down at me. I wasn't sure what but I had the feeling it was somewhere along the lines, 'I am the reason you drown every time you step on water.' "You're claimed..." I managed to squeak. Percy stepped out of the water. "Congratulations." I smiled weakly.

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UwU Here's another chapter I am sorry for some holes in the story -kookie-doughs

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

#Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson X Reader #Percy Jackson X Y/N #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #luke castellan #Luke castellan x reader #Y/N L/N #Y/N L/N and the halfbloods #X Reader #Lightning thief #Book 1 #Chapter 8 #Fanfiction #fanfictions

[thewidowsghost]

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 5

(Y/n)'s POV

I have weird dreams full of barnyard animals. Most of them wanted to kill me. The rest wanted food.

I must've woken up several times, but what I hear and see makes no sense, so I just pass out again. I remember lying in a soft bed and spoon-fed something that tasted like (Favorite/Food), only it's like pudding. The girl with curly blond hair hovers over me, smirking as she scrapes drips off my chin with the spoon.

When she sees my eyes open, she asks, "What will happen at the summer solstice?"

"What?" I manage to croak.

She looks around, as is afraid someone would overhear. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

"I'm sorry," I slur, "I don't . . ."

Somebody knocks on the door, and the girl quickly fills my mouth with the pudding.

. . .

The next time I wake up, the girl is gone.

A husky blond dude, like a surfer, stands in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. He has blue eyes - at least a dozen of them - on his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands.

When I come around for good, there is nothing weird about my surroundings, except they are nicer than I am used to. I am sitting in a deck chair next to Percy - who was looking at me with concern - on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smells like strawberries. There is a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that is great, but my mouth feels like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue is dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurt.

On the table next to me is a tall drink. It looks like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper parasol sticks through a maraschino cherry.

My hand is so weak I almost drop the glass once I get my fingers around it.

"Careful," says a voice.

Grover is leaning against the porch railing, looking as though he hadn't slept in a week. Under one arm, he cradles a shoebox. He is wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops, and a bright orange t-shirt that says CAMP HALF-BLOOD.

"You two saved my life," Grover says. "I...well, the least I could do...I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this."

Reverently, he places the shoebox in Percy's lap.

Inside is a black-and-white bull's horn, the base jagged from being broken off, the tip splattered with dried blood.

It hadn't been a nightmare. My mother was gone.

"The Minotaur," Percy asks.

"Um, Percy, it isn't a good idea -" Grover gets cut off.

"That's what they call him in the Greek myths, isn't it?" Percy demands. "The Minotaur. Half man, half bull."

Grover shifts uncomfortably. "You two have been out for two days. How much do you remember?"

"Mom," I say softly. "Is she really . . ."

Grover looks down.

I stare across the meadow. There is a grove of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky. The valley is surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, is the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looks beautiful in the sunlight.

My mother is gone . . .

Nothing should look beautiful. The whole world should be black and cold.

"I'm sorry," Grover sniffs. "I'm a failure. I'm - I'm the worst satyr in the world." He groans, stomping his food so hard it comes off. I mean, the Converse hi-top comes off. The inside is filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole. "Oh, Styx!" he mumbles.

Thunder rolls across the clear sky.

Mom had really had been squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into yellow light.

Percy and I are alone. Orphans. We would have to live with . . . Smelly Gabe? No. I'd live on the streets first.

Grover is still sniffling.

Percy says, "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect you."

"Did our mother ask you to protect me?"

"No. But that's my job. I'm a keeper. At least . . . I was."

"But why . . ." Percy begins and I suddenly feel dizzy, my vision swimming.

"Don't strain yourself," Grover says. "Here."

He helps me hold my glass and puts the straw to my lips.

I recoil at the taste because I was expecting apple juice. It isn't that at all. It's chocolate-chip cookies. Liquid cookies. But not just any cookies - Mom's homemade blue chocolate-chip cookies, buttery and hot, with the chips still melting. Drinking it, my whole body feels warm and good, full of energy. My grief doesn't go away, but I feel as if Mom had just brushed her hand lovingly against my cheek, given me a cookie the way she used to when I was upset and told me everything was going to be okay.

Before I know it, I'd drained the glass. I stare into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted.

"Was it good?" Grover asks.

I nod.

"What did it taste like?"

"Chocolate-chip cookies," I reply and Percy looks at me knowingly. "Mom's. Homemade."

He takes the empty glass from me gingerly, as if it's dynamite, and sets it back on the table. "Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting.

3rd Person POV

The porch wraps all the way around the farmhouse.

Percy's legs feel wobbly, trying to walk that far, and (Y/n), though her legs feel like Jello, had moved to support her brother. Grover offers to carry the Minotaur horn, but Percy holds onto it. I'd paid for that souvenir the hard way. I'm not going to let it go.

As the trio comes around the opposite end of the house, (Y/n) catches her breath.

Percy's POV

We must be on the north shore of Long Island because on this side of the house, the valley marches all the way up to the water, which glitters about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I simply can't process everything I'm seeing. The landscape is dotted with buildings that look like ancient Greek architecture—an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena—except that they all look brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school–age kids and satyrs play volleyball. Canoes glide across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's are chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shoot targets at an archery range. Others ride horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I'm hallucinating, some of their horses have wings.

Down at the end of the porch, two men sit across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl who'd spoonfed (Y/n) is leaning on the porch rail next to them.

The man facing me is small, but porky. He has a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it's almost poker. He looks like those painting of baby angles - cherubs. He looks like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He is wearing a tiger-patterned Hawaiian shirt, and he would fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties, except I get the feeling that this guy could out-gamble even my step-father.

"That's Mr. D," Grover mutters to me and (Y/n). "He's the camp director. Be polite. That girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron . . . "

He points at the guy whose back is to me.

First, I realize he's sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognize the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, and the scraggly beard.

"Mr. Brunner!" I cry.

The Latin teacher turns and smiles at me, then looks curiously at (Y/n), who is still supporting some of my weight. His eyes have that mischievous glint they sometimes got in class when he pulls a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers B.

"Ah, good, Percy," he says. "Now we have four for pinochle."

He offers me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looks at me, then (Y/n), who is leaning against my chair, with bloodshot eyes, and heaves a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to the glad to see you."

"Percy, why don't you introduce me?" Mr. Burnner says, sending a soft smile towards (Y/n).

"Oh, this is my twin sister, (Y/n)," Percy says.

(Y/n)'s POV

I smile and wave shyly.

"It's nice to meet you, sir," I say. "Percy's told me a lot about you. Even said you were his favorite teacher."

A warmer smile spreads across Mr. Brunner's face and then he turns. "Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner calls to the blond girl.

She comes forward and Mr. Brunner introduces us. "This young lady nursed you back to health, (Y/n). Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy and (Y/n)'s bunks? We'll be putting them in Cabin Eleven for now."

"Sure, Chiron," Annabeth replies.

She's probably about my age, maybe an inch or two taller, and a whole more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she is almost exactly when I think a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruin the image. They are startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she's analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

She glances down at the Minotaur horn in Percy's hands then looks back up at me. She says, "You drool when you sleep." My cheeks take on a slight red tinge as she sprints off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her.

"So," Percy says, looking anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?"

"Not Mr. Brunner," not Mr. Brunner says. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."

"Okay," Percy says, looking totally confused, then looking at the director. "And Mr. D . . . does that stand for something?"

Mr. D stops shuffling the cars. He looks at Percy like he'd just belched loudly. "Young man, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason.

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"I must say, Percy," Chiron - Brunner breaks in, "I'm glad to see you alive, and the chance to meet your sister. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time."

"House call?" I ask, interested.

"My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct Percy. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met him. He sensed he was something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to...ah, take a leave of absence."

"You came to Yancy just to teach me?" Percy asks.

Chiron nods. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood, and then we learned of Miss (Y/n), here." He nods to me. "But you still had so much to learn, Percy. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test."

"Grover," Mr. D says impatiently, "are you playing or not?"

Percy's POV

"Yes, sir!" Grover trembles as he takes the fourth chair, though I didn't know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt.

"You do know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D eyes me suspiciously.

"I'm afraid not," I answer.

"I'm afraid not, sir," he corrects.

"Sir," I repeat, liking the camp director less and less.

"Well," he tells me, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know the rules"

"I'm sure the boy can learn," Chiron says.

"Please," I plead, "what is this place? What are we doing here? Mr. Brun— Chiron—why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?"

Mr. D snorts. "I asked the same question."

The camp director deals the cards; Grover flinches every time one lands in his pile.

Chiron smiles at me sympathetically, the way he used to in Latin class, as if to let me know that no matter what my average was, I was his star student. He expected me to have the right answer.

"Percy," Chiron prompts. "Did your mother tell you nothing?"

"She said . . ." (Y/n) begins and I remember her sad eyes, looking out over the sea. "She told us she was afraid to send us here, even though our father had wanted her to. She said that once we were here, we probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep us close to her."

"Typical," Mr. D says. "That's how they usually get killed. Young man, are you bidding or not?"

"What?" I ask.

He explains, impatiently, how you bid in pinochle, and so I did.

"I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron says. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient.

"Orientation film?" (Y/n) asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"No," Chiron decides. "Well, Percy, (Y/n). You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know -" he points to the horn in the shoebox - "that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either. What you may not know is that the great powers are at work. Gods - the forces you call the Greek gods - are very much alive."

I stare at the others around the table.

I wait for somebody to yell, Not! but all I get is Mr. D yelling, "Oh, a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!" He cackles as he tallies up his points.

"Mr. D," Grover asks timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?"

"Eh? Oh, all right."

Grover bites a huge shard out of the empty aluminum can and chews it.

"Wait," I tell Chiron as (Y/n) sits down on the edge of my chair. "You're telling me there's such a thing as God."

"Well, now," Chiron says. "God—capital G, God. That's a different matter altogether. We shan't deal with the metaphysical."

"Metaphysical? But you were just talking about—"

"Ah, gods, plural, as in, great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors: the immortal gods of Olympus. That's a smaller matter."

"Smaller?"

"Yes, quite. The gods we discussed in Latin class.

"Zeus," I say. "Hera. Apollo. You mean them."

And there it was again—distant thunder on a cloudless day.

"Young man," says Mr. D, "I would really be less casual about throwing those names around if I were you."

"But they're stories," I say. "They're—myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science."

"Science!" Mr. D scoff. "And tell me, Perseus Jackson"—I flinch when he says my real name, which I never told anybody—"what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?" Mr. D continues. "Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's what. Oh, I love mortals—they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come so-o-o far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me."

"Percy," Chiron says, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means immortal. Can you imagine that for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?"

"You mean, whether people believed in you or not," (Y/n) says.

"Exactly," Chiron agrees. "If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning? What if I told you Perseus and (Y/n) Jackson, that someday people would call you a myth, just created to explain how children can get over losing their mothers."

My heart pounds. He's trying to make me angry for some reason, but I wasn't going to let him. I say, "I wouldn't like it. But I don't believe in gods."

"Oh, you'd better," Mr. D murmurs. "Before one of them incinerates you."

Grover pleads, "P-please, sir. He's just lost his mother. He's in shock."

"A lucky thing, too," Mr. D grumbles, playing a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with boys who don't even believe!" He waves his hand and a goblet appears on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet fills itself with red wine.

"You're Dionysus," (Y/n) says and Mr. D looks at her. "The god of wine."

Mr. D nods then stares at me as I say, "You're a god."

"Yes, child."

"A god. You."

He turns to look at me straight on, and I see a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man is only showing me the tiniest bit of his true nature. I see visions of grapevines choking unbelievers to death, drunken warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as their hands turn to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts. I know that if I push him, Mr. D would show me worse things. He would plant a disease in my brain that would leave me wearing a straitjacket in a rubber room for the rest of my life.

"Would you like to test me, child?" he says quietly.

"No. No, sir."

The fire dies a little; he turns back to his card game. "I believe I win."

"Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron says. He sets down a straight, tallies the points, and says, "The game goes to me."

I think Mr. D is going to vaporize Chiron right out of his wheelchair, but he just sighs through his nose, as if he were used to being beaten by the Latin teacher. He gets up, and Grover rises, too.

"I'm tired," Mr. D says. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."

Grover's face beads with sweat. "Y-yes, sir."

Mr. D turned to me. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson. And mind your manners." He sweeps into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably.

"Will Grover be okay?" I ask Chiron.

Chiron nods, though he looks a little troubled. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been . . . ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."

"Mount Olympus," I say. "You're telling me there is really a palace there?"

"Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, Percy, just as the gods do."

"You mean the Greek gods are here? Like...in America?"

"The what?"

"Western civilization?" (Y/n) guesses and Chiron nods for her to continue. "It started in Greece, then spread to Rome, right?"

"That's correct, Miss (Y/n)," Chiron says.

"And then they died?" I ask, looking between my Latin teacher and my sister.

"Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course, they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in Rockefeller Center, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not—and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either —America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here."

"Who are you, Chiron? Who . . . who am I? Who . . . who are we?"

Chiron smiles. He shifts his weight as if he was going to get up out of his wheelchair, but I know that was impossible. He's paralyzed from the waist down.

"Who are you?" he muses. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to meet. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate."

And then he does rise from his wheelchair. But there's something odd about the way he did it. His blanket falls away from his legs, but the legs don't move. His waist keeps getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, I think he's was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he keeps rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realize that the velvet underwear wasn't underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair isn't a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must've been magic, because there's no way it could've held all of him. A leg comes out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.

I stare at the horse who had just sprung from the wheelchair: a huge white stallion. But where its neck should be was the upper body of my Latin teacher, smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk.

"You're a centaur!" (Y/n) says in awe, and Chiron's eyes sparkle with amusement as he nods.

"What a relief," the centaur says. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy and (Y/n) Jackson. Let's meet the other campers."

Word Count: 3702 words

#percy jackson x sister reader #percy jackson and the olympians reader insert #fem reader #female reader #reader insert