#what i should really figure out is the circe thing

[infinitelycomplexpuzzles]

// Okay so I've talked about these things individually but reading some of marvel's recent output it's really pissing me off because I feel like two things should be considered like, the basics of the genre

heroes should probably have friends within the hero community, given they all deal with the same stuff (barring those that either intentionally eschew friends or are unstable and can't tell friend from foe)

villains should not usually make a habit of targeting the friends/family of heroes, for reasons I'm going to get into now

Look, there should be unstated rules when it comes to the game of heroes and villains. Heroes and villains fight, that's the job, and you want to keep it that way. Lots of people go 'well if you went after their loved ones, then you'd have one up on them!'

But no one bothers to actually, you know, think that through.

Picture this. You want to go after Spiderman's friends and family. Cool! He'll make one phone call to Thor, and now you have a god breathing down your neck. You prepared to fight a god? Oh, you went after someone Batman cares about? Good work, now you have to fight the Justice League. You ready for that?

Like there's a reason villains stick to their own cities and their own heroes. There's a reason why they don't just immediately pick the nuclear option. If your main adversary is Spiderman, you probably don't want to have to fight off Captain Marvel. If you're fighting Green Arrow, maybe don't also pick a fight with Martian Manhunter.

That's not to say no one would do these things. Plenty of villains are perfectly happy to slam that nuclear button with both fists. But the point is that:

heroes should have friends and writers shouldn't make it so every hero is a moody loser who hates people so that there are consequences for going nuclear

villains should not all be prepared to hit the nuclear button, because it brings down nuclear heat when you do that

Case in point! The Joker is probably going to be willing to threaten people near Batman, because he's willing to take on that nuclear level of heat. So is Lex Luthor. So is Circe. Guys like Carnage are willing to go that far, because that's what makes them A-List threats! At some point, simply existing is by extension threating the living. When you're Galactus, you're just threating their loved ones by existing nearby!

It just drives me up the wall to see writers write themselves into a corner because they can't figure out a better way to raise the stakes, so they make characters turn into moody losers who can't possibly have friends, so they can solve the plot point they created by having them not have help.

Looking at you, writers of recent spiderman comics.

It's just insane to me that writers are so lacking in creativity that they have to create woefully terrible ideas in order to cover up their own terrible writing. If your plot has a plot hole, instead of trying to change the characters into people they're not to fix it, change your plotline.

#ooc

[cryptid-killjoy]

School List

Ok So I’m only doing this cuz I really lost a whole year somehow with everything going on - Went back to the last school list to double check Scout’s age like how did I lose a year. Whaaaaaaaat? Scout was still listed as junior and I was thinking oh man. If we missed prom They missed graduation. No way that wasn’t made a big deal of in the Laveau household. 

Nigel - Zombie in Feral

Babyface - Freshman (due to 2x failure) -  Currently living on the street and never finished with Circe or Halloweentown or the human public school system. His mother and Black Arts Beagle will have something to say about this when they come fully into the picture. They are not going to agree on what he should do next. 

Lance  Zombie in Feral

School 

Halloweentown High

Spade -  Graduated with honors - Halloweentown High Alumni 

Lena -  Feral Zombie with a cursed entity inside

Hypno - Feral Zombie

Libi Heart - Feral Zombie

Ace - Feral Zombie

The Nola High Population that no longer exists and is now called Feral

Jax - Sophomore - TBA (also there’s a real part of me that wants to say they’re on the island cuz I miss them as a way to cop out and bring them back later but can’t decide so not labeling them as zombies)

Mazzie - Sophomore TBA

Ellie - Junior - Current dropout traveling with Babyface Beagle (not sure if she should be a senior by now or if due to all that went down she never made it and would still be at junior status if she started again even though it’s probably at the point these guys would probably opt into a GED program if they continued now)

New Zealand - Auckland High Kiwis

GoGo - Graduated

Scout - Graduated

Seven is still enrolled in Mortuary Science School -  Feral Zombie

Note: Chip and Pips got their wings

Other Feral Notes that have nothing to do with schools but the younger generation: 

When the Feral lock down went down I don’t want to forget Chernabog’s son was locked in too. He is not a zombie and survived in shadow form and was hiding in Pixie Hollow. It’s how he wasn’t found or affected. That’s what Bastien was speaking about when he spoke of a moving shadow to Maddy some while back and comparing it to Peter Pan. He was at Skull Rock when all this started spying on Atticus’s meeting before the zombie riot and got stuck in when Delta shut it down with the dance spell. So if the dwelling of Feral does find tortured or mutilated carcasses of strange kinds, animals, fae, what have you that don’t seem natural anywhere, oocly, let it be known, it can be from him. We know what he’s like. He won’t be able to not be himself forever. 

Lena’s zombie still houses the soul of Magica De Spell. She was already a magic object. So her zombie isn’t normal because her shell isn’t normal. She has no control. She’s stuck. She’s trying to figure out how to communicate from within the zombie, but it’s worse than trying to control Lena. To say the least she’s in a pickle. 

Chernabog is still in Delta’s necklace. 

Barrel is pretty aggravated about the island he procured for his mother being behind Delta’s fairie ring. 

Spade isn’t because she’s bored of the whole school thing and even though it sucks to be upped is young and more interested in making a name for herself like her mother and be a real someone in the Boogie Empire. Fans are so much easier to rally, seduce, and persuade than people are to educate, and so much more fun. 

CJ still has possession of the black cauldron. 

The Horned King is still dancing.

#head canon #and #school #update

[halothenthehorns]

How Do You Say Gods

Chapter 13: ANNABETH TRIES TO SWIM HOME

Jason had been imagining a plethora of reactions if everyone knew this. Interrogations left and right of what he didn't remember mostly. Unlike Percy, he wasn't thrown in here with any friends for a reminder of why he shouldn't go digging around in his head to understand. Thalia and Nico now had ammunition at the ready to demand if he knew anymore about Circe's island, the son of Poseidon not in the know before must have been the only thing stopping them.

The only one who said anything about it was Percy, giving him a sympathetic grin. "You should have said something, we could have made an amnesia club. Alex could make shirts in case we forget all of this again."

Alex sized the two up like he was mentally taking their measurements while Magnus got up to offer and take the book with one last curious look at him, but not a pester on his lips. Nico was barely acting like he heard as he was listening intently to Will talking about scurvy like he still only had pirates on the brain instead of ousting the rest of his oddities, like knowledge of that other camp.

Thalia sighed in exasperation that of course her friend was making light of this while still watching Jason a bit, but in the same way she had since the beginning. She was frowning from him to Percy and back, but whatever connection she was trying to draw didn't seem to be adding up. At least she didn't cry out to him being an enemy.

Will did have some questions about this, but he'd promised himself to stay out of it. What Nico's 'trip' had to do with Jason, and now most likely Percy's memory loss he couldn't fathom, but he just didn't care right now as Nico was finally just chatting and laughing with him still about pirates as they swapped stories of all the different legends on their favorites. Will had loved Captain Hook in every incarnation and was just getting into the finer details of a myth over Peter Pan being based on Apollo when Magnus started reading and the two reluctantly came to a stop.

Magnus hadn't even noticed the opportunity to have a chat with Alex if he'd wanted, he'd caught sight of the chapter title and felt a sense of foreboding wash over him. Did she and Percy have a fight? Did something try to drown her? He tried to start reading and felt everybody's undivided attention shift to him in concern for what she got up to.

"She doesn't turn into a motivational blue fish does she?" Alex asked, once more leaning over his shoulder and seeming to rest pretty comfortably there. Not quite touching, but for some reason the space felt like no bother.

Will snorted beside him and started humming an odd tune about just keep swimming. Nico didn't get the joke, but he smiled for seeing Will smiling while doing it anyways.

I'd finally found something I was really good at.

"Technically controlling sea ships seems to be inherited from your dad, again, not you specifically," Alex corrected.

"Why are you like this?" Percy sighed as he killed his buzz.

"Keeping things in perspective," he shrugged without remorse. "You've still got skateboarding, annoying Annabeth, a talent for pissing off gods, and housing food like nobody's business all to yourself."

"Fair trade," Percy grinned again at once.

  The Queen Anne's Revenge responded to my every command. I knew which ropes to hoist, which sails to raise, which direction to steer. We plowed through the waves at what I figured was about ten knots. I even understood how fast that was. For a sailing ship, pretty darn fast.

It all felt perfect—the wind in my face, the waves breaking over the prow.

Will was still guiltlessly watching Nico instead of the book, mostly, and couldn't stop smiling at the way he was still smiling. It finally happened though as he was so often prone to doing, Nico glanced at Percy and then back to the door with such an obvious shift. Guilt? Something along those lines? Will wanted to ask so badly what that was about, but then Nico did it again and actually bit his lip to stop himself smiling and relaxed instead, one last snicker escaping like he was still imagining a guinea pig doing all this. Will lounged back with a smile of his own at least he wasn't dwelling so much on whatever that had been.

But now that we were out of danger, all I could think about was how much I missed Tyson, and how worried I was about Grover.

Percy was doing that in abundance now, something about this book soothed his inner attention deficiency so that he could both think back and try to remember what street that dog-sized rat he'd once seen was on and worry about both of them plus Annabeth all without any thought being too distracting. Maybe this was why he'd never been able to focus in class, if only Mr. Sourcream had threatened his friend's life rather than just a failing grade he would have paid more attention.

I couldn't get over how badly I'd messed up on Circe's Island. If it hadn't been for Annabeth, I'd still be a rodent, hiding in a hutch with a bunch of cute furry pirates. I thought about what Circe had said: See, Percy? You've unlocked your true self!

"You're not to blame for that!" Thalia said at once. "She was a powerful sorceress Percy, Annabeth nearly fell for it too and only snapped out of it when she realized you were in trouble. If anybody had been threatening to turn her into a guinea pig, you would have come out sword swinging."

"I completely forgot about those stupid vitamins though," he restlessly flipped his pen between each finger, hating to admit to himself how much the change still lingered in him. How his thoughts before seemed to be mocking him now, he was always destined to hide away down here, and his dad seemed to agree. "I can't believe Annabeth hasn't laughed her ass off at me yet and told me to swim home." She had been standing on the deck looking out into the horizon, that calm sharp look gazing down at the waves as her hair tangled up and she kept twisting her cap in her hands. She'd been thinking about something. Probably about how stupid he'd been. She'd noticed what a coward he was.

Thalia nudged him in the side, hard. "She wouldn't know what to do without you, and only giggled a bit when telling me about this. Nobody's perfect Perce, you two take turns saving each other," she concluded softly. She had a pretty good guess what the next encounter was. Her sister had told her Percy had seen her siren vision, and now she wasn't even hear to soothe her boyfriend's needless chastising or get to know her own cousin who was clearly anxious to keep going and find out more about a family he'd long since lost contact with.

Percy stopped arguing the point at least. He glanced to the ceiling again for the first time in ages. He still missed Tyson, he had a lot more mistakes to go, but he tried to take Thalia's words to heart as he couldn't stop this from continuing, and he didn't want to.

I still felt changed. Not just because I had a sudden desire to eat lettuce.

"I admit, if I was ever forced into craving spinach I'd be pretty hacked off too," Nico nodded.

I felt jumpy, like the instinct to be a scared little animal was now a part of me. Or maybe it had always been there.

That's what really worried me.

Jason watched Thalia help Percy laugh that one off, reminding him about lizard brains and everyone had that fight or flight instinct; but he felt somewhere in the back of his mind, in the flesh of his tattoo a soft growl within, and wondered if he really knew what Percy meant.

We sailed through the night.

Annabeth tried to help me keep lookout, but sailing didn't agree with her. After a few hours rocking back and forth, her face turned the color of guacamole and she went below to lie in a hammock.

I watched the horizon. More than once I spotted monsters. A plume of water as tall as a skyscraper spewed into the moonlight. A row of green spines slithered across the waves— something maybe a hundred feet long, reptilian. I didn't really want to know.

'At least they didn't attack,' Hearth signed, he wasn't sure this ship could stand up to such a thing. 'Would sea monsters attack him?'

'I'm pretty sure just because he asked them nicely to stop and was related they wouldn't hesitate,' Thalia sighed.

Once I saw Nereids, the glowing lady spirits of the sea. I tried to wave at them, but they disappeared into the depths, leaving me unsure whether they'd seen me or not.

"Or it could have been a manatee," Magnus grinned, "that's where most of those mermaid myths came from, or a whale." He paused and reconsidered, "do monsters eat normal animals? Could they survive in that place?"

Percy was grinning to himself he really looked like his cousin when he started babbling off like that.

"They have no interest in them, so I'm sure they'd be fine," Will assured.

Sometime after midnight, Annabeth came up on deck. We were just passing a smoking volcano island. The sea bubbled and steamed around the shore.

"One of the forges of Hephaestus," Annabeth said. "Where he makes his metal monsters."

"Like the bronze bulls?"

She nodded. "Go around. Far around."

Nico finally lost whatever enthusiasm had been instilled in him by the whole guinea pig-Percy fiasco, but at least this time Will knew why. Everybody knew what had happened to Bianca when Percy paid his respects to her, Chiron even making her a shroud despite the fact she'd never been a camper after Nico saved their butts after the Battle of the Labyrinth. Will watched Jason who still had a forlorn air about his own past missing, Magnus winced at the idea of that place and Percy whispered how Tyson probably would have loved to see that, but nobody else seemed to notice, and he couldn't stand to do nothing.

He gave him just the gentlest nudge, still felt that swirling darkness in him and tried to infuse just a little bit of light into him when he whispered, "don't worry, I'll write you a doctor's note so you won't have to go there."

Nico spluttered on a laugh as he turned to look at him, equal surprise and amusement on his face finally making that sadness a lingering thing instead of all-consuming.

"Thanks," Nico felt his smile was a little stiff, he still wondered why Will even noticed that had bothered him let alone talked to him like he was normal, but damn if he wasn't starting to enjoy it.

I didn't need to be told twice. We steered clear of the island, and soon it was just a red patch of haze behind us.

I looked at Annabeth. "The reason you hate Cyclopes so much ... the story about how Thalia really died. What happened?"

It was hard to see her expression in the dark.

Percy was glad he couldn't too, because if she'd just been angry with him for asking again he would have kept asking. If she'd been about to cry in memory of her lost friend he might have let it go again. Now he held his breath with a pang as he let himself think of Tyson again, to be grateful the big guy would never have to live in a cardboard box in an alleyway ever again, wouldn't have to hear this.

"I guess you deserve to know," she said finally. "The night Grover was escorting us to camp, he got confused, took some wrong turns. You remember he told you that once?"

I nodded.

"Well, the worst wrong turn was into a Cyclops's lair in Brooklyn."

Thalia gave a hollow laugh. Considering how many wrong turns the trio had made on their last quest, and still fallen into a few traps during this one, she still couldn't understand how Grover had blamed himself for this.

"They've got Cyclopes in Brooklyn?" I asked.

"You wouldn't believe how many, but that's not the point.

Magnus made a huffy noise of disagreement that seemed a very important point to him, but now he was pretty sure he just wouldn't ever go there period.

This Cyclops, he tricked us. He managed to split us up inside this maze of corridors in an old house in Flatbush. And he could sound like anyone, Percy. Just the way Tyson did aboard the Princess Andromeda. He lured us, one at a time. Thalia thought she was running to save Luke. Luke thought he heard me scream for help. And me ... I was alone in the dark. I was seven years old. I couldn't even find the exit."

Percy winced as Magnus's voice shook terribly over this, perfectly imitating a cousin she'd never mentioned. Guilt was radiating off of him, how he'd likely been sitting around watching cartoons, or at the very worst having an asthma attack while she'd fought for her life during this.

She brushed the hair out of her face. "I remember finding the main room. There were bones all over the floor. And there were Thalia and Luke and Grover, tied up and gagged, hanging from the ceiling like smoked hams. The Cyclops was starting a fire in the middle of the floor. I drew my knife, but he heard me. He turned and smiled. He spoke, and somehow he knew my dad's voice. I guess he just plucked it out of my mind. He said, 'Now, Annabeth, don't you worry. I love you. You can stay here with me. You can stay forever.'"

"Wrong voice to pick," Thalia's voice dragged out every angry stab she'd wanted to lob herself, but it was a reminder Magnus needed that this ghost story wouldn't haunt her forever. At least Annabeth hadn't stabbed Tyson on sight.

I shivered. The way she told it—even now, six years later—freaked me out worse than any ghost story I'd ever heard. "What did you do?"

"I stabbed him in the foot."

The collective laugh that circled the room felt very unifying. It was what no seven-year-old should have to do, and the bravest thing they all wished they could.

I stared at her. "Are you kidding? You were seven years old and you stabbed a grown Cyclops in the foot?"

"I think that's the moment I fell in love," Percy declared as if that weren't already obvious.

"I thought it was back in the tunnel of love, so you're late to the party," Will chuckled.

"He had no hope of anything else happening the moment she called him seaweed brain, so it's about time he caught up," Thalia scoffed.

"Oh, he would've killed me. But I surprised him. It gave me just enough time to run to Thalia and cut the ropes on her hands. She took it from there."

"Yeah, but still ... that was pretty brave, Annabeth."

"As long as there's not a spider around, that girl sounds like she could take on anyone," Alex's tone clearly said he approved, and Magnus froze for a few breaths as he imagined introducing his only family to, well, his friend? He and Alex were friends, right?

She shook her head. "We barely got out alive. I still have nightmares, Percy. The way that Cyclops talked in my father's voice. It was his fault we took so long getting to camp. All the monsters who'd been chasing us had time to catch up. That's really why Thalia died. If it hadn't been for that Cyclops, she'd still be alive today."

Luke had hated the gods for her death, Grover had blamed himself, and Annabeth had hated all of Cyclops kind. Thalia stared back down that hill with a sea of monsters rushing towards her, Luke carrying away a screaming and protesting Annabeth while Grover called for help, and wished they'd all felt what she did, at peace with her sacrifice.

We sat on the deck, watching the Hercules constellation rise in the night sky.

"Go below," Annabeth told me at last. "You need some rest."

I nodded. My eyes were heavy. But when I got below and found a hammock, it took me a long time to fall asleep. I kept thinking about Annabeth's story. I wondered, if I were her, would I have had enough courage to go on this quest, to sail straight toward the lair of another Cyclops?

Just days ago Nico wouldn't have questioned such a thing existing, Percy was brave enough to take on the world to save everyone. Now he knew that Percy had been scared plenty in the past, that he'd needed help to even make it this far. He still admired him, but for some reason it wasn't quite as intense as it used to be.

I didn't dream about Grover.

"I'm sure he's so offended," Alex smirked.

Instead I found myself back in Luke's stateroom aboard the Princess Andromeda.

'How is this a worse nightmare than the Cyclops?' Hearth demanded.

'The evil mastermind is always worse than his lackeys', Magnus agreed.

The curtains were open. It was nighttime outside. The air swirled with shadows. Voices whispered all around me—spirits of the dead.

Beware, they whispered. Traps. Trickery.

Nico's eyes glimmered with interest. The same whispers haunted his dreams about Gaia, even worse murmurs of doom and earthly destruction. Percy's dream only confirmed to him he was on the right path searching for answers down in Tartarus.

Kronos's golden sarcophagus glowed faintly—the only source of light in the room.

A cold laugh startled me. It seemed to come from miles below the ship. You don't have the courage, young one. You can't stop me.

I knew what I had to do. I had to open that coffin.

"This is definitely not one of those times where someone should be encouraging you to follow your dreams," Jason shivered.

I uncapped Riptide. Ghosts whirled around me like a tornado. Beware!

My heart pounded. I couldn't make my feet move, but I had to stop Kronos. I had to destroy whatever was in that box.

Then a girl spoke right next to me: "Well, Seaweed Brain?"

"And now you're officially dreaming of Annabeth," Thalia chuckled, at least getting some fun out of this madness. "I'm surprised it took this long."

I looked over, expecting to see Annabeth, but the girl wasn't Annabeth. She wore punk-style clothes with silver chains on her wrists. She had spiky black hair, dark eye-liner around her stormy blue eyes, and a spray of freckles across her nose. She looked familiar, but I wasn't sure why.

"How many times do you dream of me?" The girl demanded now.

"To hell if I know," Percy shrugged, just as weirded out as she was. Once was strange enough.

"Well?" she asked. "Are we going to stop him or not?"

I couldn't answer. I couldn't move.

The girl rolled her eyes. "Fine. Leave it to me and Aegis."

She tapped her wrist and her silver chains transformed— flattening and expanding into a huge shield. It was silver and bronze, with the monstrous face of Medusa protruding from the center. It looked like a death mask, as if the gorgon's real head had been pressed into the metal. I didn't know if that was true, or if the shield could really petrify me, but I looked away. Just being near it made me cold with fear. I got a feeling that in a real fight, the bearer of that shield would be almost impossible to beat. Any sane enemy would turn and run.

Thalia grinned as seven mouths opened now staring at the bracelet upon her wrist she'd been casually twirling around this whole time. "I haven't had a reason to draw it on you guys."

"Can I see it?" Alex demanded practically before she was done speaking.

"Look away," was the only warning they got before she gave it a purposeful tap. In less time than it had taken to be described the gruesome sight was before them now. Only Alex was left staring in awe at the piece of metalwork. Hearth sadly couldn't bring himself to go inspect this bit of magic, and Jason was cringing away just as much as Percy had been in that dream.

Even Alex wasn't immune for long though, and his fascination soon crumbled as he too had to look away. Thalia retracted it back with the same satisfied smile. "I'll bet I beat Kronos in that dream before you wake up," she challenged.

"As if," but Percy didn't seem that confident. He'd never really thought much about why she was alive now, when Annabeth knew her to be dead. His mom had died and come back after all, so it wasn't too strange. Now he sat here wondering how a powerful girl like her wasn't the child of the prophecy instead of him, when she clearly could do what he couldn't.

The girl drew her sword and advanced on the sarcophagus. The shadowy ghosts parted for her, scattering before the terrible aura of her shield.

"No," I tried to warn her.

But she didn't listen.

"Something we have in common," Thalia sighed tragically. Darn Annabeth for being right about the two of them.

She marched straight up to the sarcophagus and pushed aside the golden lid.

For a moment she stood there, gazing down at whatever was in the box.

The coffin began to glow.

"No." The girl's voice trembled. "It can't be."

From the depths of the ocean, Kronos laughed so loudly the whole ship trembled.

"No!" The girl screamed as the sarcophagus engulfed her in a blast of a golden light.

Percy jolted in his seat now, fighting back his trembling spine. Thalia's face was pale, her freckles standing out in the gloomy light of this room.

He'd known, somehow the prophetic power of a half-bloods dreams had been warning Percy even back then what Luke's future was. What her recurring nightmares still were. She couldn't save him, and he'd gladly kill her over and over to get what he wanted.

The devastated, accepting look on her face was enough to make anyone but the nosiest curd leave her to her thoughts over what that dream could have meant. All Percy could hope was that, for once, it had just been a bad dream and nothing else.

"Ah!" I sat bolt upright in my hammock.

Annabeth was shaking me. "Percy, you were having a nightmare. You need to get up."

"Wh—what is it?" I rubbed my eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Land," she said grimly. "We're approaching the island of the Sirens."

"I've heard of a siren," Alex waved his hand around as if trying to pull thoughts out of the air. "They sing to you and make you think they're the person you love most."

"It's certainly a part of their trickery," Thalia whispered more somber than ever. She wished her little sister hadn't volunteered to do this to herself, she'd still been fighting back tears years later just telling her she had, let alone what she'd seen even if Thalia had her guesses. Percy never would have tried talking her out of it, he knew her to well. Thalia would have though, learning a fatal flaw about yourself wasn't worth your life.

I could barely make out the island ahead of us—just a dark spot in the mist.

"I want you to do me a favor," Annabeth said. "The Sirens ... we'll be in range of their singing soon."

I remembered stories about the Sirens. They sang so sweetly their voices enchanted sailors and lured them to their death.

"No problem," I assured her. "We can just stop up our ears. There's a big tub of candle wax below deck—"

"I want to hear them."

Will face palmed and Magnus asked the ceiling, "why am I not surprised?"

"Shush and keep going," Alex flapped his hand around like he could pull the words out of Magnus's mouth faster, though not nearly with as much enthusiasm as usual since he had a pretty good guess Percy wouldn't be the one to hear it, taking away most of the fun.

I blinked. "Why?"

"They say the Sirens sing the truth about what you desire. They tell you things about yourself you didn't even realize. That's what's so enchanting. If you survive ... you become wiser. I want to hear them. How often will I get that chance?"

Nico looked like he was going to be sick at the thought, there were plenty of things stored away in his mind he was actively avoiding thank you.

Jason was looking from the door and back like he'd get up and go on a quest right this second to go find these things if could get away with it, and Will wasn't sure who he was more concerned with in that moment.

Coming from most people, this would've made no sense.

"But you know Annabeth," Thalia said without surprise.

But Annabeth being who she was— well, if she could struggle through Ancient Greek architecture books and enjoy documentaries on the History Channel, I guessed the Sirens would appeal to her, too.

She told me her plan. Reluctantly, I helped her get ready.

"She's the smarts and he's the momentum," Alex said out of the corner of his mouth just to Magnus. "Even when somebody should draw this to a stop."

"You were all for this five seconds ago," he muttered back.

"I don't want her to die, I just want to hear this deathly cool song," he corrected, "unless Annabeth suddenly appears to tell me the lyrics," he paused for dramatic effect for nothing to happen, "this is a bad idea."

"Good to know," Magnus grinned.

As soon as the rocky coastline of the island came into view, I ordered one of the ropes to wrap around Annabeth's waist, tying her to the foremast.

"Don't untie me," she said, "no matter what happens or how much I plead. I'll want to go straight over the edge and drown myself."

"Are you trying to tempt me?"

"True love is the threats you make along the way," Thalia snorted.

"Ha-ha."

I promised I'd keep her secure. Then I took two large wads of candle wax, kneaded them into earplugs, and stuffed my ears.

Annabeth nodded sarcastically, letting me know the earplugs were a real fashion statement. I made a face at her and turned to the pilot's wheel.

"I don't know how she's not ripping your ears off in jealousy to get her own," Magnus smiled hopefully she'd be back to reading in her cabin safely again in no time. His cousin was already on a dangerous quest to save her camp and was still adding to the life or death of it all in pursuit of knowledge. He definitely wasn't a child of any of that kind of god.

The silence was eerie. I couldn't hear anything but the rush of blood in my head.

Hearth started tapping Magnus almost painfully on the shoulder to interrupt what that could mean. Magnus spent a few complicated moments trying to explain that even when there was no noise, one could often hear their own body trying to communicate something was wrong. Hearth's hands fell to his lap.

As we approached the island, jagged rocks loomed out of the fog. I willed the Queen Anne's Revenge to skirt around them. If we sailed any closer, those rocks would shred our hull like blender blades.

I glanced back. At first, Annabeth seemed totally normal. Then she got a puzzled look on her face. Her eyes widened.

She strained against the ropes. She called my name—I could tell just from reading her lips.

Percy was glad now he hadn't been selective about what he could hear during this. He knew he wouldn't have been able to resist her pleas any more than the magical song.

Her expression was clear: She had to get out. This was life or death. I had to let her out of the ropes right now.

She seemed so miserable it was hard not to cut her free.

I forced myself to look away. I urged the Queen Anne's Revenge to go faster.

I still couldn't see much of the island—just mist and rocks—but floating in the water were pieces of wood and fiberglass, the wreckage of old ships, even some flotation cushions from airplanes.

How could music cause so many lives to veer off course? I mean, sure, there were some Top Forty songs that made me want to take a fiery nosedive, but still ... What could the Sirens possibly sing about?

"Something your soul longs to hear apparently," Will sighed. A tune so perfect every musician strived to create, a note that would entrap the world into listening forever. A tune even Apollo could never create, lest he turn into a monster himself.

For one dangerous moment, I understood Annabeth's curiosity. I was tempted to take out the earplugs, just to get a taste of the song. I could feel the Sirens' voices vibrating in the timbers of the ship, pulsing along with the roar of blood in my ears.

Thalia smacked Percy on the shoulder and muttered what an idiot he was even knowing she couldn't help the stray thought herself to get just a hint of that noise.

Percy didn't blame her as he rubbed at the spot, very glad himself this was one time his impulsive side hadn't shown through.

Annabeth was pleading with me. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Percy was sitting far back in his seat now and biting his tongue against yelling at Magnus to skip this already, he was happier not having this memory back! He was saving her life, she'd asked for this, he knew all that, but still, he couldn't escape the scared animal in him wanting to run and hide from the memory of seeing her like this.

She strained against the ropes, as if they were holding her back from everything she cared about.

How could you be so cruel? She seemed to be asking me. I thought you were my friend.

I glared at the misty island. I wanted to uncap my sword, but there was nothing to fight. How do you fight a song?

I tried hard not to look at Annabeth. I managed it for about five minutes.

That was my big mistake.

Magnus groaned and looked ready to chuck the book into Percy's face. "That's a lot of people's mistake underestimating her."

"I won't let anything happen to her." All traces of the guinea pig were gone, Percy sat straight up in his seat now, not even reaching for his pen as tight as his hands were fisted. Like he was already telling the ocean itself to keep her safe and give her back.

When I couldn't stand it any longer, I looked back and found ... a heap of cut ropes. An empty mast. Annabeth's bronze knife lay on the deck. Somehow, she'd managed to wriggle it into her hand. I'd totally forgotten to disarm her.

Thalia smacked him again, harder, before wrapping her hands around the back of her neck and taking deep breaths. At least Annabeth hadn't taken it with her to stab him when Percy rescued her.

I rushed to the side of the boat and saw her, paddling madly for the island, the waves carrying her straight toward the jagged rocks.

I screamed her name, but if she heard me, it didn't do any good. She was entranced, swimming toward her death.

I looked back at the pilot's wheel and yelled, "Stay!"

"You and Annabeth should officially open an obedience school," Nico muttered as he tried his hardest not to look at Percy, or the book, or anything that would give away how much he wasn't looking forward to hearing Annabeth's perfect life had all worked out for her in the end too.

Then I jumped over the side.

I sliced into the water and willed the currents to bend around me, making a jet stream that shot me forward.

I came to the surface and spotted Annabeth, but a wave caught her, sweeping her between two razor-sharp fangs of rock.

I had no choice. I plunged after her.

I dove under the wrecked hull of a yacht, wove through a collection of floating metal balls on chains that I realized afterward were mines. I had to use all my power over water to avoid getting smashed against the rocks or tangled in the nets of barbed wire strung just below the surface.

I jetted between the two rock fangs and found myself in a half-moon-shaped bay. The water was choked with more rocks and ship wreckage and floating mines. The beach was black volcanic sand.

I looked around desperately for Annabeth.

There she was.

Luckily or unluckily, she was a strong swimmer.

"That girl could compete in the Olympics," Jason sat gawping at the book. "She's managing the same swim you are with none of the bonus!"

"She had to learn to keep up with Percy somehow, I bet she can hold her breath quite a while too," Thalia said saintly, but Percy shoved her all the same and told her to get her mind out of the gutter while the Norse kids seemed to get a laugh out of it too. Will was looking for it this time and noticed Nico clearly didn't find it all that funny.

She'd made it past the mines and the rocks.

She was almost to the black beach.

Then the mist cleared and I saw them—the Sirens.

Imagine a flock of vultures the size of people—

"Damn, and they already stand nearly half as tall as us," Alex said. "Good animal to pick though, being carrion birds."

"They eat dead meat," Nico added at the blank looks, "and a group of them can be called a wake, so, you know, all appropriate."

"You two know the strangest things," Percy informed them.

with dirty black plumage, gray talons, and wrinkled pink necks. Now imagine human heads on top of those necks, but the human heads keep changing.

I couldn't hear them, but I could see they were singing. As their mouths moved, their faces morphed into people I knew—my mom, Poseidon, Grover, Tyson, Chiron.

"I'm sure Clarisse is so offended she's not on that list," Nico muttered, still looking all around the room with a pinched-up look on his face.

All the people I most wanted to see. They smiled reassuringly, inviting me forward. But no matter what shape they took, their mouths were greasy and caked with the remnants of old meals. Like vultures, they'd been eating with their faces, and it didn't look like they'd been feasting on Monster Donuts.

Annabeth swam toward them.

Percy had his eyes closed, concentrating more on this than he ever had on anything in his life of not disturbing the ocean around him, of not stopping the memory from forming so that he could know she hadn't reached that shore. That he'd stopped her in time.

I knew I couldn't let her get out of the water. The sea was my only advantage. It had always protected me one way or another. I propelled myself forward and grabbed her ankle.

The moment I touched her, a shock went through my body, and I saw the Sirens the way Annabeth must've been seeing them.

Three people sat on a picnic blanket in Central Park. A feast was spread out before them. I recognized Annabeth's dad from photos she'd shown me—an athletic-looking, sandy-haired guy in his forties. He was holding hands with a beautiful woman who looked a lot like Annabeth. She was dressed casually—in blue jeans and a denim shirt and hiking boots—but something about the woman radiated power. I knew that I was looking at the goddess Athena.

Next to them sat a young man ... Luke.

Magnus wished that he could shut the book now, that he could skip this and let his cousin tell him this if she'd ever want to. Percy could tell them whenever he wanted, but no, his cousin was left out of this mess. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing was more questionable by the chapter.

The whole scene glowed in a warm, buttery light. The three of them were talking and laughing, and when they saw Annabeth, their faces lit up with delight. Annabeth's mom and dad held out their arms invitingly. Luke grinned and gestured for Annabeth to sit next to him—as if he'd never betrayed her, as if he were still her friend.

Behind the trees of Central Park, a city skyline rose. I caught my breath, because it was Manhattan, but not Manhattan. It had been totally rebuilt from dazzling white marble, bigger and grander than ever—with golden windows and rooftop gardens. It was better than New York. Better than Mount Olympus.

I knew immediately that Annabeth had designed it all. She was the architect for a whole new world. She had reunited her parents. She had saved Luke. She had done everything she'd ever wanted.

Nico sat there aghast that she hadn't gotten any of those people to where she wanted. He knew she was on decent terms with her mom and dad, but no god would ever settle for a mortal. She'd reconstructed camp and Olympus itself, but the architecture had been the background, her secondary wish. He'd always thought he and Annabeth only had one thing in common. He wanted to ask her if it had been worth it seeing something she could never have.

I blinked hard. When I opened my eyes, all I saw were the Sirens—ragged vultures with human faces, ready to feed on another victim.

I pulled Annabeth back into the surf. I couldn't hear her, but I could tell she was screaming.

She kicked me in the face, but I held on.

"Talk about not taking a hint," Alex muttered, glad in this case Percy wasn't all laid back. He'd need a stubborn side to keep up with Annabeth.

I willed the currents to carry us out into the bay. Annabeth pummeled and kicked me, making it hard to concentrate. She thrashed so much we almost collided with a floating mine. I didn't know what to do. I'd never get back to the ship alive if she kept fighting.

Thalia was twitching like a live wire she couldn't think up anything else either, that only Percy could have rescued her from this nightmare she was desperate to stay in.

We went under and Annabeth stopped struggling. Her expression became confused. Then our heads broke the surface and she started to fight again.

The water! Sound didn't travel well underwater. If I could submerge her long enough, I could break the spell of the music.

It seemed like a cool idea to Alex that Percy should have tried plunging the whole ship under the ocean once Annabeth had started being affected by the music, but Magnus was reading with a fury in every syllable to find out how they'd gotten out of this. Alex found it far more interesting to watch the tight lines of Magnus's face that could be sculpted into endless planes of worry that needed to be smoothed out first.

Of course, Annabeth wouldn't be able to breathe, but at the moment, that seemed like a minor problem.

"You have to breathe when you're an adult too Percy," but Thalia's teasing was a little bubble of levity itself easily passed over. She felt useless she couldn't do anything for that little girl she'd cared for so long ago, but knew whom Annabeth had needed right then, and it was none of those people in that utopia.

I grabbed her around the waist and ordered the waves to push us down.

We shot into the depths—ten feet, twenty feet. I knew I had to be careful because I could withstand a lot more pressure than Annabeth. She fought and struggled for breath as bubbles rose around us.

Bubbles.

I was desperate. I had to keep Annabeth alive. I imagined all the bubbles in the sea—always churning, rising. I imagined them coming together, being pulled toward me.

The sea obeyed. There was a flurry of white, a tickling sensation all around me, and when my vision cleared, Annabeth and I had a huge bubble of air around us. Only our legs stuck into the water.

Percy exhaled in relief before a small smile began to light his face. She'd been shivering and coughing in his arms, the lingering spell had left her face clouded in confusion and at that age he'd only looked at this girl who'd come to mean so much to him as a dearest friend. It was not the kiss he treasured in his memory of course, but he had a good feeling about this moment that had broken her heart. Maybe all of those people had broken it once before, but in that bubble, he'd been the breath she needed.

She gasped and coughed. Her whole body shuddered, but when she looked at me, I knew the spell had been broken.

She started to sob—I mean horrible, heartbroken sobbing. She put her head on my shoulder and I held her.

Percy's arms moved now over nothing, he exhaled again in frustration and started tapping his feet impatiently to get back to her already.

Fish gathered to look at us—a school of barracudas, some curious marlins.

Scram! I told them.

They swam off, but I could tell they went reluctantly. I swear I understood their intentions. They were about to start rumors flying around the sea about the son of Poseidon and some girl at the bottom of Siren Bay.

"Dolphins are terrible gossips, I'm sure the blobfish will hear about this by the end of the week," Percy rolled his eyes. Matt Sloan and every bully and rumor in the world couldn't take this from him.

"I'll get us back to the ship," I told her. "It's okay. Just hang on."

Annabeth nodded to let me know she was better now, then she murmured something I couldn't hear because of the wax in my ears.

Thalia had a pretty good guess what it could have been. 'Don't leave me.' Like everybody else in her life had by that point. Yet Annabeth had already known at that age it might still have happened in a few years' time. It was happening right now back above in the world. Her little sister had camp, Chiron, but now Percy had been ripped away from her too just like everybody else.

I made the current steer our weird little air submarine through the rocks and barbed wire and back toward the hull of the Queen Anne's Revenge, which was maintaining a slow and steady course away from the island.

"Looks like that ship doesn't take orders very well," Jason muttered as if that were any concern at all.

We stayed underwater, following the ship, until I judged we had moved out of earshot of the Sirens. Then I surfaced and our air bubble popped.

I ordered a rope ladder to drop over the side of the ship, and we climbed aboard.

I kept my earplugs in, just to be sure. We sailed until the island was completely out of sight.

Annabeth sat huddled in a blanket on the forward deck. Finally she looked up, dazed and sad, and mouthed, safe.

"Gods, that couldn't be another trick too, could it?" Alex knew it wasn't, or Annabeth still would have been trying to get away. He'd just said it to make Magnus look up at him in exasperation so he could smile at that big doofus look again. Magnus gave him a much more relaxed smile than the usual awkward mess, which was somehow more endearing than that goofy look he'd been getting.

I took out the earplugs. No singing. The afternoon was quiet except for the sound of the waves against the hull. The fog had burned away to a blue sky, as if the island of the Sirens had never existed.

"You okay?" I asked. The moment I said it, I realized how lame that sounded. Of course she wasn't okay.

"You get credit for asking," Will assured. At least it let her lead the conversation of whether she wanted to lie and pretend she was or not. He glanced at Nico and knew that sometimes you needed space to sort out your demons.

"I didn't realize," she murmured.

"What?"

Her eyes were the same color as the mist over the Sirens' island. "How powerful the temptation would be."

I didn't want to admit that I'd seen what the Sirens had promised her. I felt like a trespasser.

But I figured I owed it to Annabeth.

'She's either going to stab him or call him a seaweed brain,' Hearth signed confidently.

'She's exhausted, probably the latter,' Magnus nodded.

"I saw the way you rebuilt Manhattan," I told her. "And Luke and your parents."

She blushed. "You saw that?"

"What Luke told you back on the Princess Andromeda, about starting the world from scratch ... that really got to you, huh?"

She pulled her blanket around her. "My fatal flaw. That's what the Sirens showed me. My fatal flaw is hubris."

'I didn't think it was humorous?' Hearth frowned.

Thalia finger-spelled the word while Alex watched her intently. Percy asked nobody in particular why she was bringing that nasty stuff up right now. Magnus was smiling again as he kept reading.

I blinked. "That brown stuff they spread on veggie sandwiches?"

Percy waved his hand about as if encouraging them to keep laughing at him this time, his eyes still a million miles away on that boat as he'd seen her fight off her own smile.

She rolled her eyes. "No, Seaweed Brain. That's hummus. Hubris is worse."

"What could be worse than hummus?"

"Pate'," Will offered.

"What is that?" Percy demanded.

"I'm not sure, but the look on Lee's face when he tried some made me not want to find out," he shrugged.

"Hubris means deadly pride, Percy. Thinking you can do things better than anyone else ... even the gods."

"I can think of several things off the top of my head I can do better than those all-knowing idiots," Alex scoffed.

The room gave a collective wince like they all expected him to be struck down in his seat.

"It worries me how well you might get along with Annabeth," Thalia told him. Magnus still wasn't sure he found that a bad thing even as he took one more careful look around before trying to finish.

"You feel that way?"

She looked down. "Don't you ever feel like, what if the world really is messed up? What if we could do it all over again from scratch? No more war. Nobody homeless. 

Magnus couldn't imagine how anybody could fix the world into perfection. He was numb to his miserable life most days, grieving his mother while shivering and wondering when his next meal was. How could Annabeth think she could fix that without stopping death itself?

No more summer reading homework."

"I'm listening."

"Well whoever is running this now clearly wasn't," Percy said to the ceiling.

"I mean, the West represents a lot of the best things mankind ever did—that's why the fire is still burning. That's why Olympus is still around. But sometimes you just see the bad stuff, you know? And you start thinking the way Luke does: 'If I could tear this all down, I would do it better.' Don't you ever feel that way? Like you could do a better job if you ran the world?"

Alex raised an interested brow at the book as he knew Thalia was right, he did feel that way more often than not. He didn't think he had as much of a know-it-all attitude as Annabeth, but maybe people with hubris would always think that of each other.

"Um ... no. Me running the world would kind of be a nightmare."

"Then you're lucky. Hubris isn't your fatal flaw."

Jason laughed without humor. You couldn't exactly call one fatal flaw luckier than the other, but then, he'd have killed to know what his was, since it would just be one solid fact about him.

"What is?"

"I don't know, Percy, but every hero has one. If you don't find it and learn to control it ... well, they don't call it 'fatal' for nothing."

Percy began fiddling with his pen again, popping the cap on and off just enough to keep balancing in that mist like space where it glimmered in his hand and then pushed it back down. He had a feeling he did learn what his fatal flaw was. Despite his mothers best effort, he doubted he was saved from that particular Greek tragedy upon him.

Thalia let out a bitter laugh Luke had tried to exploit her's just like Annabeth's, his very own. If not hubris, then confidence, a sense of duty that you could do it yourself and didn't need others' help. A burden in her favor being Artemis's lieutenant, someone the girls in her charge relied upon and a vessel of the huntress goddess words who wasn't exactly on a schedule of checking in, leaving her in charge for months at a time.

Nico hated himself for the hot flash traveling up his throat, burning at his eyes. He'd tried to live up to Bianca's last words about him to his own fatal flaw, but usually he still felt like a stupid lost kid. He woke up every day telling himself not to hold onto his grudge against her for abandoning him, or Percy who would never be who he wanted, but it just left him feeling empty of anything else on his wandering travels until he'd heard the whispers of a new rising, the worst of all.

I thought about that. It didn't exactly cheer me up.

I also noticed Annabeth hadn't said much about the personal things she would change—like getting her parents back together, or saving Luke. I understood. I didn't want to admit how many times I'd dreamed of getting my own parents back together.

I pictured my mom, alone in our little apartment on the Upper East Side. I tried to remember the smell of her blue waffles in the kitchen. It seemed so far away.

Percy's mind flashed back to Tyson too, how lucky he'd been to have a friend like him keeping the monsters away without him even realizing why. What if he'd been attacked again, would his mom have fallen into another awful relationship with someone just as bad as Gabe? Being alone every night wondering if her only child was alive made him feel no less guilty though for what she suffered because of him.

"So was it worth it?" I asked Annabeth. "Do you feel ... wiser?"

She gazed into the distance. "I'm not sure. But we have to save the camp. If we don't stop Luke ..."

She didn't need to finish. If Luke's way of thinking could even tempt Annabeth, there was no telling how many other half-bloods might join him.

Nico came back to the here and now with ease as he glanced between Jason and Percy. The children of the gods had already been at war once, and it had been bloody and terrible. It had seemed no wonder to him that whoever those kids were that Jason so clearly needed to go back to should be a secret, lest they have another army of angry others on their borders.

I thought about my dream of the girl and the golden sarcophagus. I wasn't sure what it meant, but I got the feeling I was missing something. Something terrible that Kronos was planning.

What had the girl seen when she opened that coffin lid?

Annabeth couldn't have known at that time, Thalia wanted to assure herself. Nobody could have known what Luke would agree to do. Her little sister was wrong, some knowledge wouldn't change a thing. Whatever that dream had been, she was glad to be the one to have taken that look inside the coffin from both her friends so neither would have to live with the answer as long as they could.

Suddenly Annabeth's eyes widened. "Percy."

I turned.

Up ahead was another blotch of land—a saddle-shaped island with forested hills and white beaches and green meadows—just like I'd seen in my dreams.

My nautical senses confirmed it. 30 degrees, 31 minutes north, 75 degrees, 12 minutes west.

We had reached the home of the Cyclops.

"Finally!" Percy burst out of his seat at last he was going to get Grover back.

"It's Alex's turn," Magnus scowled, holding the book closer. Thalia assisted by grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking him back into his seat, again.

"Well get on with it man!" Percy was beyond exhausted, he wanted his life back, and he wanted to hear Grover wasn't married!

Alex didn't even scowl at Percy as he reached for the book, so he seemed to agree.

#pjo #Percy Jackson #Thalia Grace #Jason Grace #Nico di Angelo #Will Solace #Magnus Chase #Hearthstone #Alex Fierro #reading the books #fanfiction #fierrochase #solanglo #percabeth

[collectionoftulips]

I'm thinking about a Kate Is Anthony's Mistress fic and I got some ideas but I can't figure out how or why Kate would temporarily leave Anthony. Do you have any suggestions?

I'm so honoured you would ask me for advice, so thank you so much for that. Below are obviously my thoughts and keep in mind I'm not an expert at writing and it will include my interpretation of some of the characters (other ways of viewing the same character is just as valid, and anything I say in this post should be caveated with 'in my opinion'), but here goes (and I apologise for this being a bit lengthy but I am apparently a bit of a writing nerd and like talking about writing choices etc?):

The first thing I would say is that I think it would depend on how big of a deal the separation would be. When I write, I try to tie the central conflict(s) into the theme of the story I want to tell. If it's a minor conflict not related to the main thesis of the story, it can still be done that way but it's not as necessary. So for my mistress AU story that I wrote, I ended up going down the miscommunication route for the central reason for their conflict. The issue in that story was never the absence of feelings, but rather the ability (or inability) to express those feelings partly due to the social context that was Regency England (pretty much everything followed a very tightly regimented social script - but also not a historian!), but also due to their own personal insecurities. So when I separated Kate and Anthony in that story, because it was because the miscommunication was in part fuelled by the social norms of the time and because it trigged both of their deepest insecurities in different ways.

Less abstractly in terms of reasons, I think one of the most delightful things I find writing Anthony is that he is a character who so closely guards his feelings but at the same time seems to almost wear his heart on his sleeve, and push comes to shove, is a very hotheaded person. That combined with the fact that he grew up with almost (at least to me) inconceivable wealth and privilege means that he's probably prone to say something silly or do stuff that might not be entirely wise (and I say this with all the affection in the world). He tries his best to suppress his emotions but his natural inclination is to be a very passionate person, so that opens up a lot of opportunities for him to say something ill-advised. Maybe he says something classist, generally assholey, or maybe he freaks out and goes a little bit overboard trying to conceal his feelings for Kate (in terms of overrcorrecting proposing to the sister of the person you're in love with, it's really up there).

The way I see Kate is that she is a character who has really little patience for any of these things, especially if they inadvertently trigger some of her own insecurities or vulnerabilities, as she like Anthony is a very guarded person (but is much better at hiding her vulnerability or how she truly feels). To me, a lot of Kate's issues are stemmed in self-worth (in the books it was expressed through concerns over her looks etc, in the book it was more about not being enough or not having earned her family's affection) and especially with the almost at times comical way in which she would announce she's returning to India, she seems like a character who (when disappointed or otherwise) would try to remove herself from a situation if possible (especially if that situation is caused by an over-privileged temperamental manchild* whom she inexplicably finds herself caring for despite her highly attuned warning bells telling her to run in the other direction).

So, in short, I think there's a lot of options and in general it depends on what kind of story you want to tell. I know the answer above is sort of centred around a miscommunication issue, due to how I wrote my own fic, but it could also be that Anthony does something ill-advised that he has to then atone for, or is put in a situation by circumstances that hurt Kate's feelings. What's so delightful, I think, about this fandom and this pairing in particular is that I find them so psychologically interesting and they are on the surface so incompatible yet also deeply similar that it really is sometimes a miracle that they get together at all 😂

Hope this was helpful and maybe gave you some ideas. If it was or wasn't please let me know, and thank you for your ask and for putting up with my rambling.

(* = again, said with all the affection. Anthony and Simon are as characters really just walking adverts for why therapy should be heavily subsidised and publicly available and offered to everyone, imo)

#kathony #kanthony #anon - i hope you don't mind me adding those tags in because i don't know if people get notified of anonymous asks being answered

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 14: Another Update

I don’t feel as bad this week as I did last week, but functionally, it’s honestly pretty much the same. I’m not accomplishing anything, I’m not sleeping enough, I’m way too distracted, and I feel listless and stalled. I am… not sure what to do about this. I keep trying to be different and just failing.

Since I’m so tired, from the not sleeping right, I can’t really get much done at work. I imagine tomorrow will be similar. Since my co-worker is out on paternity leave, I am helping at the circ desk for about an hour so my co-worker can eat lunch. I’m like totally useless at it because literally every question I just turn around and ask for her help with anyway. I mean in my defense most of the questions I’m getting are weird and also I barely remember my circ training and a lot of it has changed since I was trained. But like, I am trying. I did successfully figure out that the return screen next to the check out screen does not re-sensitize the books. I feel like that’s a weird little detail that it’s important to know.

At about 3:30, we lost power in the library. My screen went blank and I just presumed that meant I couldn’t do anything because I forgot I have a laptop and it does have a battery. But—I shouldn’t have to work when there’s no power, so. We mostly all just congregated at the circ desk and talked about the power situation. The outage was pretty big—it didn’t stretch to my apartment but it took out like all of the most populated areas of the city and it was predicted to be out until between 6 and 9. I really think we should have just immediately shut down and gone home. I know that isn’t reasonable but like… please. I didn’t do anything else of worth the rest of the day. The power ended up coming back on about 30-40 minutes later, but by then it was like… well I’m practically out the door. Still, a little excitement.

Looking ahead… I just feel so fucked. Tomorrow it’s supposed to be really nice out so I’m going to spend some time outside after work. Finally. I hope that will make me feel better. But, I’m still behind on literally fucking everything. I want to go out on Saturday because, again, it’s going to be nice. (Probably too sunny to be really ‘cooler’ and full of people but… I can’t stay inside in weather like this.) And on Sunday I need to do laundry. I also really need to get back to writing Troped. I have been totally ignoring it all week. Next week, I have the Dean meeting, a doctor’s appointment (on the same day… I really don’t want to do either of these things), and then on Tuesday I’ll need to go grocery shopping because I should have this week and just… didn’t! I just didn’t.

Ugh. Ugh! I should call in sick tomorrow, I’m not even kidding, but you know I won’t.

#the year 2023 #2023: rl

[zorilleerrant]

finally watched Eternals. I thought it was busy and confusing, and so I had some thoughts about how to fix this

the whole thing should’ve been a mockumentary. just straight up frame narrative the entire movie and fade in and out if there are scenes that wouldn’t make it into the footage

also should’ve been a comedy, or maybe a comedy-drama. too much call for emotional scenes that aren’t really motivated and it feels like the director and all actors are getting bored

more focus on Gilgamesh??? he’s so cute???

get rid of Icarus. he’s boring and annoying

also get rid of the Droog. I think maybe the story was going somewhere with him but it didn’t get there

Athena is likewise distracting and whatever they were attempting to figure out there didn’t fully make it

no offense to Salma Hayek but her character was not even a character and more like a background prop so bye Ajax

there was not enough time devoted to developing literally any traits for Mercury but there might be once we drop some of the other characters so there’s potential here

Kanga obviously should stay but his valet needs a bigger part. also the dynamic between the two should be explored more

Hephaistos is adorable and we needed more time with his family. in fact the whole film should center around his kid

Sprite can stay but she should be an adult. replace her ‘not growing up’ weirdness (which doesn’t make sense in context) with discovering that she’s ace or childfree or something, and doesn’t actually want those things, a much better reason for not having them

what’s up with Circe’s whole thing with her boyfriend?? develop that more it kept getting lost in the 'plot’

there should not be aliens in this movie. the whole thing with their weird Satan boss and the ‘celestials’ and the “““““deviants””””” is complete nonsense and threw off the whole flow of the movie. just literally cut all of those things they’re irrelevant

also all the flashbacks and the spaceship and stuff. all the stuff about humanity changed and grew over time? it’s pretty but it kind of seems like it would like to say something and just doesn’t have anything to say. so set it all in the modern day

now you can also give them normal life spans

definitely skip all the fight scenes. the choreography was meh and they don’t really add anything to the plot, especially once you get rid of all the aliens in the movie

I’m torn on them having powers at all. on the one hand, some scenes of them using their powers are funny, but on the other hand a lot of scenes would be better with no powers involved. if they have powers it could be a support group. otherwise they really could just be friends from college and that also would be a cute story

really didn’t like all the references to continuity stuff. who cares where this is set in the timeline? or why they were or weren’t involved? just skip all that stuff it’s pointless

also I would not make this an MCU movie

#look i said something

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 114: Shine

(cw: vampire, this one also got a little spicy- there's nothing explicit but it's heading in that direction.)

"There's something weird going on with Draco Malfoy."

Ron and Hermione let out twin groans before Hermione said, "Harry, really-"

"I'm serious!" he protested.

His best friends shared a look before Ron tried, "Listen, mate, maybe you should just ask him out and-"

"Ask him out?" he asked incredulously. Not because he didn't think that Malfoy was attractive but because this was not about that; this was serious. "There's something-"

Hermione covered her ears, "I can't listen to one more word about Draco Malfoy."

"But-"

Ron shook his head, "Sorry mate."

"Fine." He nodded once and stood up from the lunch table, "I'm going to figure it out myself."

He didn't have to be looking at the other two of them to know that they were rolling their eyes but he just couldn't help himself. The familiar feeling of burning curiosity was heavy in his gut so he left lunch and headed back to the book store that Malfoy owned in Diagon (and that Harry frequented far more than was warranted for someone who had hardly any time to read).

The little bell over the door tinkled merrily as Harry entered the shop and Malfoy looked up from the book in his lap. "Twice in one day," he drawled but there was an amused twinkle in his eye that belied his tone. "Better be careful, Potter, or people might start to talk."

(Read more below the cut)

"They do little else," Harry replied with an eye roll, trying to keep his tone casual as he looked at the other man. He seemed even paler, his fair skin nearly translucent now, and while Harry had long since accepted that he was attracted to the other man, he seemed to be even more beautiful now.

The corner of Malfoy's mouth ticked up, "So what can I do for you, Potter?"

"Oh," he said, blinking because he really hadn't thought this part through.

Malfoy's smile grew and Harry felt even more off kilter, "It's interesting," he said as he stood up and stalked over to Harry.

"What is?" Harry asked, swallowing down the anticipation fluttering in his gut.

The other man stopped mere inches from Harry, so close that he could smell his cologne and make out the freckles on his cheeks, so close that Harry could see that his blond eyelashes were actually quite long and thick. Godric, he was beautiful. "It's interesting that while most people are afraid of me-"

"Most people are idiots," he inserted, his eyes flickering up to meet Malfoy's quick silver pupils.

Malfoy smirked, "Most people have this sense about me, a sense that makes the hair on their arms stand on end," he said as he trailed the tips of his fingers lightly over Harry's arm. "A sense," he continued, "that makes a tingle of unease travel up their spine and rest at the base of their neck." His fingers brushed all the way up Harry's arm, over his shoulder, and to the base of his neck. "It ratchets up their heart rate," he added, his fingers taking up residence on Harry's neck, his eyes glued to his neck as though he could see his heart beating through his pulse point.

"My heart's beating pretty fast," Harry murmured because he might as well admit it since Malfoy could feel it under his fingers.

His eyes flicked up and met Harry's, "But you aren't afraid."

"No," Harry agreed.

"I can't help but wonder what it says about you," he said, removing his hand. He immediately missed the touch. "I've been thinking about it for weeks," he added as he took a step back. "Since the second day you wandered into my shop and made it clear that you hadn't read the book you'd purchased the day before. And every day I wonder if it's the last day you'll wander in. I've been trying to understand it for weeks."

"And?" Harry asked. "What did you come up with?"

"I don't know."

"You're different," he said instead.

Malfoy inclined his head, "Yes."

"How?"

Malfoy tilted his head consideringly, "If I tell you will you stop coming to see me?"

He considered the question for a moment, "No."

The smile returned and as Harry watched his eye teeth elongated and sharpened, shining in the light coming through the window.

"You're a vampire," he breathed and a wave of heady arousal rushed over him. It should have been a bit disconcerting but the thought of turning his head to the side and offering his neck, offering the pulse that Draco's fingers had lingered over a moment ago, was so overwhelmingly delicious that everything else was pushed to the back of his mind.

"Merlin, Potter," Draco groaned, reeling away from him and grasping his desk with his back to Harry. "You don't have a single self-preservation instinct do you?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but Draco continued.

"I shouldn't be surprised," he said, shaking his head. "It's the way you were raised but Circe you should have learned something about keeping yourself safe."

"I'm not afraid of you," he murmured as he took a step closer.

Draco laughed, one sharp, cold sound, "You should be."

"Why?"

"Because I could kill you," he snapped as he spun around to look at Harry, his fangs retracted once more. "Because I could press you back against the wall and suck every drop of your delectable blood from your body."

"But you won't," he said.

Draco stared at him for a long moment, "I won't," he agreed. "But you don't know that."

"I do know that," he argued.

"What I could steal from you-"

"You can't steal something that I would give you freely," he interrupted.

Draco inhaled sharply through his nose and took another step back, bumping into his desk, "Potter, don't," he growled. "Don't say things like that."

"Well don't take it all, obviously," he said, "But you strike me as the type of bloke who has impeccable self control."

"You'll be mine," he hissed. "I won't share you."

"Yes," he agreed.

He searched his eyes for a long moment, "I haven't cast a blanditia bind on you accidentally have I?"

"A what?"

He sighed, "It's an attraction mechanism that vampires can cast, it makes their victims," he trailed off, searching for the right word, "agreeable."

"How would I know?" he asked with a frown.

"It would be like being under the imperius curse. You'll feel like all of your choices are gone and you'll be glad of it."

"No. I could walk out that door right now without any difficulty," Harry replied.

"Prove it."

He shrugged and turned toward the door.

"Don't open the door," Draco said when his hand touched the doorknob.

"Well which is it?" Harry asked, looking at the other man over his shoulder.

He rolled his eyes, "If you're under a blanditia bind you'll be compelled to obey."

"Got it." He winked at the other man before opening the door and stepping outside. Then he turned around and opened the door again, "Not under any sort of spell," he confirmed, walking up to the other man and stopping mere inches away.

"Are you certain?" Draco asked, his eyes glued to Harry's neck, undoubtedly trained on the pulse that his heightened vision would be able to make out.

He tilted his head to the side, exposing more of his neck for the other man. "Positive."

In an instant Draco had shifted and was crowding him back against the wall, his nose trailing up Harry's neck before his lips crashed against Harry's in a searing kiss that set every inch of Harry's body on fire.

He moaned low into the other man's mouth, allowing him entry before returning the favor and trailing his tongue along the sharp points on Draco's teeth. He pressed just a little and his tongue was pricked on his tooth.

A drop of blood formed and Draco sucked greedily at his tongue, his entire body shuddering as he pressed Harry harder against the wall.

Harry groaned and sunk his fingers into Draco's hair.

Draco pulled back and nosed along Harry's jaw to his neck, "I'm going to make you feel so good," Draco promised, scraping his teeth lightly over Harry's neck and making him shudder and press against him.

He groaned and tilted his head further.

The other man pulled back, searching Harry's eyes for a long moment, "You're sure?" he asked one more time.

"I'm sure," he affirmed.

Draco groaned and leaned back in, licking and sucking at his skin, making a bruise.

"Fuck, Draco," he moaned, "Please."

And apparently that was the magic word, because Draco's fangs sunk into the side of his neck and Harry's entire body lit up.

The last conscious thought he had before he gave himself over to the pleasure rushing through him was that he couldn't wait to tell Ron and Hermione that he'd been right after all, there had been something weird about Draco Malfoy.

He just couldn't have imagined how fantastically it would work out for him.

Day 113: Cooking | Day 115: Soft

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #oof this one definitely got away from me #this is a little spicy #I don't usually write spicy things on tumblr but I couldn't help it with this one #vampire draco #harry's into it #consent is important #consent is hot #drarry drabbles #drarry ficlet

[wi-fu]

your art is such an inspiration to me! i was wondering if you could talk about how you stylise characters? seeing how you adapt sims into your style is really neat! :D have a nice day!

first off thank you so much!!!

mmmh i remember writing something here which is a bit more generic (and pretentious bc 22 year old me was Like That) but i still live by this stuff when it comes to more 'thought-out' drawings (as opposed to my drawpile doodles that are just winged)

i'm honestly not the best at stylizing, but i like to think i at least don't do too much same-facing anymore, so i'll try to give my tips in that regard under the readmore

when it comes to the 'decision' aspect, as in how i decide how to draw them, i guess it's kind of a blend of their original appearances & the vibe i think their faces should have? there's some basic thought behind each character (the ones i like, at least) but sometimes it stops along the lines of "lola and chloe's faces should be kind of flat because they're half alien and half human" and other times it's like "wow this is the 30th time i've drawn circe and i still can't figure out how i want her to look" so really, it's all trial and error

the different ways i draw eyes, noses and mouths are just various things i saw around throughout the years and you're free to copy, there's really no reason why i do things the way i do them other than at some point having seen someone else do them, and no matter what people say, that's the way it is for everybody!

three important things to consider in regards to faces that always kind of go under the radar:

-understanding quadrants ratio because ultimately that's what makes faces look different as opposed to just changing up the eyes/nose shape and stopping there. i have one of stephen silver's books and he talks about this often

-realizing that face shape is just as important as everything else and that changing a face shape doesn't equal to simply changing the chin section or stretching a face, some people have hollow cheeks, wider foreheads, or protruding chins, and showing that in their 3/4 view can be a great way of diversifying them

-realizing that you gotta make characters look off before you manage to fix them, which means just drawing them over and over until you get it right. iterative drawing is boring but ultimately great for this

point being, if you look at my old stuff / the first times i've drawn certain characters, they look kind of bland? i don't think i've improved that much honestly, but i sure hope someone will find this helpful!

#asks #tutorial #(its not one but thats the tag i use for these)

[innocentbi-stander]

Can you do demigod jaskier? But this time he is the son of Hecate?

@localhalfvampire I need to preface this by saying you’re an absolute GENIUS

Demigod jaskier, but son of Hecate has so much untapped potential and I’m LIVING for it

A jaskier who has magic, who hides himself from detection by using his abilities to manipulate the Mist that shields demigods from discovery from the rest of the world (he shivers to think of what sorcerers like that bastard Stregobor would do if they realized that demigods, sources of pure godly power and ability were walking about the Continent, free to manipulate)

Obviously children of Hecate possess an innate talent for magic, each level of magical ability depending on the child, but nobody, not even Hecate herself, had been prepared for the unintentional powerhouse that is jaskier

And how fitting is it that the person who would care about ability levels the least ends up the most powerful child of Hecate to walk the Continent since Circe herself?

Jaskier was brought to camp at a young age, his noble father unwilling to deal with the baby of his one night stand with a goddess

He is raised amongst demigods and taught to defend himself and defend others from the monsters that plague the children of the gods

A sword is placed in his hand as soon as he is strong enough to grasp it, he learns to throw daggers with deadly accuracy, to shoot arrows at a target blindfolded

For all that jaskier is taught to be fierce, and witty, to speak gracefully with a silver tongue, there is nothing he picks up faster than magic

Magic to jaskier is like breathing, for he was born from the goddess of magic herself, it is woven into every piece of his being

Hecate is a tough parent, and she believes in  challenging her children and their abilities, and so it is no wonder when jaskier leaves camp to explore the world on his own, though he visits often

And then jaskier meets geralt and the rest is history

He spends twenty years chasing after the witcher (and though twenty years is not really a blink in the eye of an immortal demigod such as jaskier, that still matters) , there’s many hunts and contracts, aftermaths of jaskier stitching up geralt and lying about where he learned to sew skin so neatly

There’s evenings spent by the campfire, playing his lute and trying to ignore the way the firelight dances in geralt’s amber eyes

There’s laughs in taverns after a bit too much to drink, there’s lute strings tucked into his bag and no word of where they came from (though he knows), apples for Roach amongst complaints of destroying her diet, doublets ruined by days in the wilderness, and geralt’s barely there smile when jaskier produces honey cakes ‘given’ to him by the local baker

There’s inns, and shared rooms, then shared beds, and shared baths closer than close, and then there’s the djinn, and yennefer, and growing apart bit by bit

Jaskier possesses some of the greatest magic in the world, and there’s nothing he can do except watch the love of his life pick someone else over and over again and pretend not to be slowly falling apart

And then the mountain

Jaskier is alone for a little bit after that, wandering aimlessly 

He travels across the Continent, killing monsters that the rest of the world can’t even see, wiping yellow sulphur dust from his hands and wishing he was somewhere else

Jaskier visits camp and stays there for a while, but no matter how many times he comes back jaskier is a traveler at heart and never stays for long

Not far past the borders of camp, at a nearby village, jaskier learns that nilfgaard has been looking for him

He can’t bring himself to be even remotely surprised then when he’s ambushed on the path a day later

The first few parties of soldiers are easily dispatched with the use of his sword and daggers, but then at some point nilfgaard realizes that the ‘harmless’ bard has teeth and sends a small army

Jaskier really should have laid low and hid himself amongst the Mist ages ago, but he’s never been one for hiding (and frankly he’s a little bit insulted that nilfgaard seems to have thought him so easy to defeat and resolves to knock them down a few pegs)

Unbeknownst to the demigod/bard/whatever the hell else he is right now, there’s been a rather frantic witcher accompanied by a witch and a princess that have been searching for him for ages, following the trail of bloody groups of soldiers

Geralt hears of the army sent after his bard and reacts first with confusion on why an army is needed to take down one human man, and then feels blind panic. Rather hysterically, as he’s shoving his, yennefer, and ciri’s things into roach’s saddlebags, is the thought, he’s going to tear them apart

Which really makes no sense given that jaskier is fucking human, but geralt has always felt something off about him, something bigger, and regardless of that he’s seen jaskier’s more feral side and is comforted slightly by the thought that jaskier is hardly the type to go down without a wicked fight

Yennefer is less reassured by this information (your bard is going to get torn apart, not the other way around!) and ushers them off immediately 

When they reach the clearing where whispers of nilfgaardian soldiers has lead them, there is an entire small army present, at at the other side in the most bizarre looking fashion, is jaskier

He stands alone, but he does not look afraid

Jaskier faces the army of nilfgaardian soldiers, his doublet a shade of midnight blue, sword in hand, and a fierce look in his eyes that for some reason sends chills down geralt’s spine

He assesses the army, silent and calculating, finding something that nobody else can see 

The captain of the army shouts an order and the men charge forward, a smirk reaches jaskier’s lips

The army’s movement sparks geralt into action, what is he doing just fucking standing there, and he unsheathes his sword to somehow help his bard

But then there is a well manicured hand on his arm and a spell stopping his feet from moving farther, and geralt looks to yennefer to ask her what the hell she thinks she’s doing and pauses at the curious look in her eye

“Wait” she mumbles to him, brow furrowed, “Something isn’t right”

And geralt turns back to the battlefield and jaskier’s eyes are glowing

Jaskier sees the army charging forward and it takes everything in him not to laugh. They are fools, every single one of them

Jaskier whispers a quick prayer to the gods for luck (even though he doesn’t need it), and lets his magic explode

When the screams fade and there is nothing in the clearing but ash and blood drying in the dirt, jaskier wills his magic to return to his body

He scrubs at a little spot of blood that had managed to stain his sleeve, a new doublet at that, and considers maybe it is time to hide amongst the Mist, if not to save his poor beautiful clothing

The snap of a twig interrupts his musings and brings jaskier to alert, the hum of his magic singing through his veins, hands at the ready

Jaskier goes deadly still when across the clearing he spies two ghosts from his past, one of them with a rather unflattering look of shock across his face, and the other looking way too pleased with herself

When they both start to make their way to him, jaskier debates on whether he still has enough energy in him to shadow travel, anything to make a speedy getaway and the fuck away from this horrible confrontation

He raises his hands , willing the shadows to lengthen and warp, ignoring the persistence dizziness and figuring there’s no better way to find out than to try, only to be stopped by a sharp, “don’t even think about it bard”

His response is instant and without hesitation, “who the fuck made you the boss of me? If I want to get the hell away from here I’m very well going to, I don’t give fuck all what you’ve got to say about it”

Yennefer’s eyes narrowed and she snatched one of his hands, still shaking with overexertion. “I think your hands tell a different story, you’re exhausted.”

“Yes, well defeating armies will do that to anyone I suppose”, Jaskier reclaimed his hand and tried to ignore the fact that geralt had yet to do anything but stare

Purple eyes examined him carefully, “You never told me you had magic”

Jaskier laughed, a hollow sound even to his own ears, “I don’t really, not your kind. It’s a long story”

“Then you’ll have plenty of time to tell us when we get to Kaer Morhen”, at last, the White wolf had spoken and unsurprisingly jaskier liked absolutely none of what he had to say

He sputtered, and he was sure his cheeks were turning that infuriating shade of red they always assumed when he was particularly pissed off, “I’m not going with you anywhere!”

Geralt turned to the bard, focusing on him with an intensity that jaskier before the mountain would have killed to receive “Nilfgaard isn’t going to stop. They want Ciri. The armies will keep getting bigger and bigger, until whatever fucking powers you have aren’t enough”

Jaskier scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest “I can handle myself”

Something in Geralt’s eyes softened “I know you can. But you don’t, shouldn’t, have to. Come with us. Just for the winter. Then you can go wherever you want. Please”

There was a long moment between them, amber and blue staring into each other’s depths. Jaskier didn’t know what to think. It had been made clear on the mountain that the witcher didn’t give a damn about jaskier, and jaskier wasn’t big on wasting his time in places he wasn’t wanted. His heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

But geralt had never pleaded with him like that, never said please. There was a desperation in his eyes that jaskier had never seen before and without his permission he felt his heart melt a little. What was one winter?

“Fine.” jaskier spoke carefully, trying to ignore the small smile that formed on geralt’s face. “I’ll come for the winter. But after that I’m leaving and I’ll be out of your life for good”

Jaskier hadn’t forgiven Geralt. He was owed an apology, and a thousand other things. Yennefer was still a bitch, and he had no idea how geralt’s brothers and mentor would react to a demigod in their midst. But jaskier was lonely, and tired of being on his own, and as much  as he hated it there was a part of him that had desperately missed his witcher, no matter how much he had hurt him. 

It was just one winter, right?

He’d figure it out….. somehow

_______________

That went in an entirely different direction than I was originally intending, but the story just got away from me... I hope you enjoyed!

What do you think folks, worthy of a part 2?

#geraskier #jaskier #the witcher #geralt #geralt of rivia #bamf jaskier #the witcher jaskier #witcher geralt #witcher jaskier #the witcher geralt #immortal jaskier #non human jaskier #the witcher yennefer #jaskier and yennefer #not yet but they will be friends I stg #powerful jaskier #I just love it so much #demigod jaskier #this time he’s a son of Hecate baby #son of Hecate jaskier #Jaskier is a sad powerful voice who DESERVES an apology from geralt #Jaskier is angry at geralt and isn’t afraid to tell him #geralt regrets his actions but sucks ass at apologies #I’m sure eskel will help #maybe #Kaer Morhen is gonna be interesting this year

[alvhiedeir]

Little Red Elf

Thor X Reader

3174 words

This is longer than intended and quite different than requested and I have no excuse than my lack of discipline but I hope this is good enough

You are seriously thinking about investing on a security camera.

No, it wasn't that you were worried about being robbed. It's was being, 'gifted'.

In an almost daily basis, different items would make it's way to your doorstep. Black roots, hyacinth, hellebores, poppies and other herbs that would usually not grow around the area. It was nice, that was the first thought you had. You were no Circe, the great witch of Aiaia, but such ingredients could and did help greatly with your draughts. So as much as this occurrence should startle you, you brushed it off as the doing of one of your friends working for Lord Osanyin who would usually send you samples of anything new. You figured business was just doing better than usual for her to give you this much.

Two weeks, it continued on. When you rise for the day, there would be a neatly placed bundle of herbs or plant on your front steps. Always perfectly centered. And for two weeks, you accepted each and everything in such giddiness.

That is until you until today.

"I haven't been given you anything, (y/n)," She turned away from the selves she was organizing and continued, "it's been pretty busy lately for the last month with the arrival of new supply from Asia."

Her answer gave you a sudden feeling of uneasiness.

"Then who," your voice trailed, dragging the weariness and alert in the air. Your friend was quick to catch the shift of your mood.

"But think about it," she placed the bottle she was holding and walked towards you, "those herbs are rare and what are the chances of a random miscreant obtaining it?"

It eased your nerves a bit to hear her words.

"Or maybe, you finally have an admirer even if your always holed up in your home!"

She laughed at the jesting glare you sent.

"Like you're any better, cat lady."

"Hey! Having four cats does not count as being a cat lady!"

"Sure, whatever you say."

You shared a laugh, the tension thinning out. After saying a few words, she went back to the counter to pack the herbs that you bought, the reason why you were there in the first place.

"You bought quite a lot. What is it for anyway?"

"Loki wanted some draughts to "bring entertainment around this damn boring halls", his words not mine."

She laughed, commenting how it sounded just like him. She handed you the carefully packed products, with a small purple ribbon tied on the basket as she always did for you.

Just as you're about to leave she called out.

"If you're still disturb about the whole mysterious gifts, why don't you try staying up to see who it is?" You thanked her for her suggestion and concern and with a wave, headed back home.

To say the least, her suggestion was not very successful.

After you went home, you got started on the ordered draughts and by the time the moon greeted the sky, your eyes were already heavy. Being stubborn, you stayed sitting in your kitchen, chair facing the window to see if anyone or anything would past by.

The minutes were slow and before you knew it, the sun has reclaimed its place. And there was yet another gift. A freshly uprooted crab apple tree that barely passes as an adult. How in the world did they get this one?

Another week fast approached and the gifts arrived just as fast. Cornel bark, elecampane, silver fir, the list goes on. Each night, you attempt to desperately stay awake to catch but a glimpse would always end up with you succumbing to sleep. It didn't matter if it was for hours or a mere minute, by the moment your eyelids flutter open, it was already there. Perfectly centered as always, in an almost mocking way.

"You missed us again", you could hear the ridicule from it.

As days flutter, the gifts and your frustrations would only intensify. One time it was antlers from a dear Australia. The other day it was the tusk of a bore. Yesterday it was the blood of steed. The last one made you panic a bit, but thankfully in came only in a small vial. It eased your nerves, albeit slightly that the animal was minimally harmed.

You tried sleeping in the morning so that so that you could roam at night. But when you rise from your chair for a drink or to go the toilet, the sneaky bastard have already placed another gift. You went as far as sitting on your doorstep for the whole night, but even that didn't help. The gift was on your window.

You were at your wits end with this "Persistent Santa" shenanigans (it was your friend who called them that. It was that or creepy-pile-of-dung-that-had-to-much-time). Whoever they were, they are good.

You sighed tiredly again, the dark bags proving Your fruitless efforts.

"Wow, you look miserable!" You silently snapped at the voice, too sleepy to argue but to proud to ignore it. His laugh was laugh, always happy to see others demise.

"Just give me the money, Loki." You impatiently thrust the basket full of draughts to him, eager to leave and maybe sleep for a few days.

"Aren't you greedy." The more he teases you, the more punching him right in the face became an increasingly good option. As if reading your voice, he raised his hands in mock surrender.

" I would pay you, but," he dragged his voice as floated closer to you, "I dont have my money right now. And the old man is calling me so can you wait a few minutes for me?" He smiled, oh-so-mockingly sweet at you.

A tomato would have been jealous of the tint of your check. The itching call for violence is now an unignorable howler. But before you can give in, the god of mischief is already pushing you into one of the rooms, claiming your silence as agreement. In a blink, you were in a well decorated room. The walls were cream in color and golden leaves decorated the corners. Threre were shelves of book against one side of the wall and-

"Wait a minute." Snapping out of your trance, you shouted, voice filled with vile, "Loki!"

But sadly, it came too late and the door have already been shut and only his feint mocking voice telling "enjoy!" Was heard from the other side.

You could sighed, pity for your own predicament. Moving towards one of the shelves with a colorful string of curse words following, you might sa well entertain yourself with something. The books were more old, and probably cost more than your soul. Each one was placed neat and organized, neither a speck or spot of dust could be seen. But one particular book caught your eye.

With a gentle finger, you traced the gold imprints on its spine.

Herbs, Medicine and Witchcraft

Unlike everything else, this one book was placed different. It was pulled slightly forward, as if recently placed back but someone else other than the organizer. When you pull it out, you also noticed the small, almost miniscule dirt on its cover. But other than that, it was nothing special.

"I didn't think they'll have this kind of book."

You sat down and flipped on a random page. It was filled with information about different plants that can be used for both medicine and, surprisingly witchcraft. It included their typical use, characteristics, side effects and their locations. And it was very specific too.

"I wonder if I can borrow this."

Page upon page was flipped, despite the fascination dwelling in you, drowsiness became unbearable. It was just so quiet and peaceful here. Maybe a few minutes won't hurt, right?

"Loki will be there for a while anyway. Might as well." Your reasoning seemed to make sense with your tired eyes and you rest your head. Not even bothered by the fact that you used the book as your pillow.

It'll just be few minutes anyway.

It wasn't a few minutes.

Slowly, your eyelids fluttered as consciousness begin to come back. You sighed contently, that nap certainly helped with your mood. You buried your nose deeper into the soft cloth you leaned on and inhaled. It smelled like fresh lilacs and the sun.

Wait, cloth?

You lifted your head and saw, indeed there was a neatly folded cloth on the place of the book. It was pale apricot, almost faded white and now that you are looking properly, it was a short robe?

"I starting to think you were not going to wake up."

Do you know the sound of a startled walrus with a respiratory disease? Imagine that, but worse. That how you sounded as you whipped your head in surprise to the voice. Right beside you was the god of thunder himself, Thor. The difference in size between him and the chair he was resting on was almost comical. You would have laughed if it wasn't for the fact you want to live a longer.

"He-hello Thor-sama." Damnit, what did you stutter?

He casted his eyes sideways to acknowledge your greeting, glacing right back into reading afterwards.

Looking yourself, it was then you noticed the book he was reading was the one you were previously sleeping on.

"It didn't seem like you were using it," his voice was monotone as for usual, "aside as a pillow, that is."

Ahh, the sheer pleasure of being swallowed by the ground right now would be nice.

"Ah! That- I! Yes..." You simply stared at your lap instead, fist clenched tightly on top. Better to stay quiet that to embarrass yourself further.

Thor was in between being an acquaintance and  a work friend. Neither of you talked much, aside from greetings and small talk but was more than used to his presence with the number of times you had to deliver things to Loki, enough so that you don't have to tremble everytime you meet.

But sitting this close, in a close space, alone, this was definitely the first time.

And it'll be the last if you're not careful.

The silence was suffocating, for you at least. You have almost jumped in your sit when he flipped a page in the book.

A minute passed and you are so closed to jumping out of the window. The room was too quiet. Making small talk won't be bad at times like this right?

"It's a nice book."

Wow. If you could, you would have hit yourself in the back of your head. Great thinking, really.

He merely nodded and the silence dragged once again.

"There's a lot of useful information in it."

Stop, just stop. Please stop digging your own grave.

"That's why it's a shame to be drooled on."

"I do not drool!"

In the distant, the sound of funeral bells rang clear in your head. The life you lived was good. Your friend will remember what flower you wanted to be placed on your coffin, and she can have your house, maybe even your-

Before you could complete your will, you heard a smallest of chuckle from the other god.

Huh?

You stared at Thor and sure enough, there's the tiniest arch in his lips. His eyes remains on the pages but - shit - has he always been this pretty?

Between the brief greetings and quick glances, it was hard to appreciate his beauty. Though mostly blank, his face was clear and smooth. Not a single blemish as one might expect from a god who knew battlefield as his home. He was no Aphrodite nor comparable to Paris, but he himself held a beauty of his own. You couldn't quite decide on if it was the light from the window or it was simply him that was glowing?

His neck flexed in the smallest notion as he read. The muscles of his shoulders were relaxed against the table.

Heavens. Those muscles.

You blushed on your thoughts. You tear your eyes away from his physique, the wooden table suddenly very interesting.

"It is rare to see you without Mjolnir, Thor-sama."

"I don't bring him when I read."

"Him?" The question lingered on your head. Was Thor one of 'those' people?

"Do you read often?"

"No."

"Are you interested in herbal medicine?"

"No."

"Is that so?" Your answer was awkward just as the air around you. But to the very least, the tension have eased out knowing that he didn't  obliterate you so far.

"Um, Thor-sama?"

Curse you and your need to fill in the silence.

"May I ask why you are reading a book about witchcraft? You do not seem the type to be interested in it." Realizing what you said was potentially insulting, you quickly apologized, eyes wide as you tried to explain. "Not that you don't look like it! What I mean is, um, - that." You stumbled over your own words with nervousness but he simply kept his eyes in the book, barely even glancing at you.

"... give you." His voice made you stop with your gibberish. Catching only the tail-end of his words, you looked at him questioningly. Only then did you realize that it has almost been a minute since he flipped a page, almost as if your question startled him as well.

"Ma-may you repeat that?"

There was a short pause before his answer came.

"So that I know what to give you."

Furrowed brows and confused eyes marked your features.

"So that I know what to give you."

His words repeated in your head, like an stubborn echo inside a cavern.

"I know what to give you."

"Give you."

"Give."

Oh shit.

"You're the Persistent Santa?!" The chair you previously sat on collided with the floor with a loud "thud". Hands planted heavily against the table, you casted accusing eyes to him.

Before any other words were uttered, your senses made its way back to your head like a harsh slap of water. You just yelled at the strongest Norse god. You might as well have dug your own hole and painted your tombstone.

But all fear and confusion left you as you stare at the fore mentioned god. He was not glancing down anymore but instead his eyes found its place opposite of your direction. And if one would look close, really intently stared, the faintest of red could be seen blooming in his cheeks.

"He-he's blushing."

Thor is blushing.

"You shouldn't be shouting here." His voice did not have the same air of threat and authority it usually holds. If your ears were right, it almost sounded like he was embarrassed.

Silently picking up the fallen chair, you sat down with your eyes burning holes the robe infront of you. Which you have almost forgotten was there.

Thinking back to the times you interacted with him, one word would usually come to mind. Quiet. He would acknowledge your presence or sometimes even greet you during the times you bump into one another but has never to made a conversation. Compared to Loki, you have always figured that maybe he was just more refined.

It wasn't until you heard his tale from your friend that you have gathered a sort of fear towards him. You knew how gods are, how vile and wrathful they are. And a god of his caliber could wipe you with a single flicker of his finger.

You would now bow and act more politely to him. Going as far as trying to avoid any contact with him.

But now sitting a mere foot apart, you felt no threat. No danger. And only then did you realize that you have never really felt any danger to begin with. When he speaks, he did not have the murderous aura that they claim to choke anyone.  He had never given you any reason to fear him, it was only you who decided to believed other's opinion.

"I'm sorry."

As if a trigger, his head turned to you upon hearing your timid voice but you dare not look at his eyes.

"You don't-"

"Not just for yelling."

Where did you get the courage to cut him off? You do not know. But, still with the false bravery, you continued.

"I mean, I have been very rude to you for a long time,"

"You have never been mean to me and I only returned the gesture by fearing you without any basis of."

With every fiber of yours screaming otherwise, you turned to look at him in the eye.

"I'm really sorry."

The longer you look into those golden eyes the more the heat on your neck spreads to your cheeks.

Guess his hair isn't the only thing red now.

"It's nothing," surprisingly it was Thor who turned away first. This time though, you eyes remained on him with a small smile. Youu have been missing out on so many things. But now, you have the eternity to catch up. And you're sure as hell you will.

"Thor-sama."

"Just Thor."

You laughed a bit, a sound that you did not notice brought a smile on his own lips.

"Why did you give me those gift anyway."

He turned his head to the other direction, but your keen eyes could see his tainted red ears.

"Loki said gifts were a good way to get close to someone." You grinned.

"I should have known better than listen to him."

His words dragged a loud laugh from you. The thought of him asking Loki, of all people for an advice was something you thought you'll never hear. And the small pout in his voice upon the next statement both brought you giddiness and butterflies.

Your hands instinctively covered your mouth, but still the sounds slipped through. And if you would have opened your eyes that moment, you would have seen the adoration in Thor's as he watches you.

Yes, it was embarrassing to ask his cousin for advice and finding those herbs was a hard task. But if seeing you like this, with lips arch into the most beautiful smile he have seen filled with happiness he once thought he couldn't bring you, then he would do it a thousand more.

Bonus:

Outside the closed doors, Loki grinned at himself. Trying to get you two was a pain with how standoffish Thor was by this was the most entertainment he had for a long time.

"What the hell are you doing?" It was one of Odin's crow that screeched from beging, as they watch the god smiling, and by experience it never means well.

"Oh nothing," he sing-songed. He floated pass his uncle but never before saying,

"Hope you're ready for grandkids!"

"Huh?"

But they did not receive an answer, only a chorus of laughter from the god of mischief as he drift away.

If you don't know who's Circe is, she's a witch in the Greek mythology that turned sailors into pigs. Odysseus met her during his travel home from the Trojan war. She turned his men into pig too. And it's a book of Madeline Miller too! You should really read her books.

This was requested by @tenshi-san and I apologize that I might have strayed too far from your prompt. I really hope I did your husbando some justice. He was so hard to write because that only thing I can see him as is bored😂. But I hope you still like it!

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #Thor #Loki #SnV Thor #fanfiction #x reader #snv x reader

[forestryfae]

What is your favorite Gen Rex episode and why is it Alliance?

JHDSGFHSJ ITS ACTUALLY ONE OF MY FAVES SO YOURE NOT WRONG

i love the whole rex-narrating-his-own-life gimmick they do in some of the episodes. its funny as hell and i love the snark AND LOOK AT THAT SUIT. DAMN. can i get one of those

then theres van kleiss, my darling bastard. id sell him to satan for a cornchip if he was real. luckily hes not so i dont have to. hes just a very fun and interesting character and also i love villains

cirex! cirex is def an otp and i love watching them interact. its also fun that both of them like eachother even though theyre on opposite sides instead of the love being onesided and unwanted or rex/circe suddenly falling for the other and switching sides at the last minute like a lot of series do. their interaction was great, the fighting was very interesting, and watching circe leave the pack was sad cus i wish wed seen more of what goes on w the pack when rex isnt aound, and felt nice cus she finally got away. her powers are also shown off a bit more and it gives a clear idea of what van kleiss uses her for both in missions and in general. shes like a megaphone or a dogwhistle

biowulfs character becomes a bit clearer in the episode and it gives a good look at what van kleiss and the packs dynamics are like, espciecially biowulfs and van kleiss' dynamic. its kind of heartbreaking watching biowulf be scolded by van kleiss and later helping rex and circe, but hes also really badass. also the "circe i warn you" part. it gives a lot of insight into how the pack interact with eachother, the hierarchy, and how van kleiss manages the pack.

bobo really just shits wherever huh

i still havent figured out whether rex was messing with bobo or not w the whole "hold this or kaboom" thing lmao

OH MY GOD HES DEAD? NO! ... *minecraft xp sound effect*

noface vs van kleiss noface vs van kleiss noface vs van kleiss also the part where rex was on the ground and van kleiss was fighting noface in the bg. idk why but the animation was A+. also kinda hot. i think they should beat eachothers asses again. ALSO watching van kleiss get run over by that evo when rex was leaving. MUAH. finally some good fucking food. hilarious.

HI I NEED TO SHOW EVERYONE THIS BECAUSE I THOUGHT ITD BE A FUNNY NYOOM FACE. BUT NO. "looks like the hard way then" van kleiss says with a bored 'ugh not this shit again' face and then hes like NYOOM AND-

SIR? SIR. further proving my theory that van kleiss just really thinks violence and fighting is fun. i dont think his want for world domination is based on his love for violence but rather his want for power and control. the violence is a sideeffect he doesnt mind one bit. i bet he spars with other evos for fun.

also just because

elegant

#genrex #generator rex #im tagging this because i NEED people to see that face vk is making and also bobos face #bean talk

[otherpeoplesheartachept-2]

Body Swap

Pairing: Penny/Shep

Rating: G

Warnings: mild awtwb spoilers

Length: 1972

Summary: Shepard let’s Pacey cast an experimental spell on him, because of course he does. 

AN: I’m a full 3 days late w this but idc. My brain’s been so shit lately and I was gonna feel worse if I just scrapped this mostly written fic so🤷

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

“I’m back!” I yell, stepping into my parent’s living room and making my way to the kitchen—groceries in both hands—when I’m greated by a woman. A woman who looks exactly like me, standing in the living room and smiling.

“Who are you?” I ask, hoping it’s me from the future, (or maybe an alternate dimension).

“I’m you!” my doppelgänger says ecstatically. “Well, I mean, I’m Shepard but I look like you! I’m so cute!” He squeezes up with joy, and takes a spin in his (my?) skirt. (Did the outfit come with whatever transformation happened, or did Shep decide to dress the part?) What happened here?

“You’re me,” I aks, raising my eyebrows. I’m completely lost as to how this happened and why my boyfriend seems excited instead of mortified. I’m also (very sadly) putting away all the questions I had prepared to ask a Penelope Bunce from the future.

“Yeah!” he says like it’s great.

“Why in Circe’s name are you me?” I push past him to put the groceries away. “And where are the kids?” I ask, looking around my parent’s living room. I leave Shepard alone with my siblings for thirty minutes and somehow he gets turned into me.

My parents are out of town for the weekend. Mom desperately needed a break, and I think the whole ‘dad joining a cult because he felt inferior’ thing made them both realize they needed to work on some things. So they took a short vacation, and asked me to watch Pacey and Pip. (Priya is at Watford, where Pacey should be except he got suspended this week). I should have said no when they asked me to babysit, but Shepard loves kids, and I felt bad for my parents.

Shep tells me Pacey’s on his Xbox and Pip’s napping. At least we should have time to figure out this body swap thing without distraction.

“How did this even happen?” I ask Shepard.

He dodges the question by talking about all the interesting “experiments” we could do with this opportunity.

“Like, haven’t you ever wondered how much of you is body and how much is soul? We should test some things—see what’s different about you and me-as-you. Test pain tolerance or brain structure or how neurons fire. Do I have your brain, like structurally? I don’t have your memories or anything. But your brain is part of your body, so you’d think in a body transformation, I’d get your brain, but maybe I still have mine. Maybe it’s all my body, just glamoured to look like yours. It’s fascinating.”

He’s pulling me in with all these interesting possibilities. “This is fascinating. We could try brain scans.” I’m pacing between the kitchen counter and the fridge, putting food away as I think. “There’s a spell for X-rays but I don’t know of any for MRIs or fMRIs. If we had time we could visit Dr. Wellbelove, maybe even try some genetic testing. You know some magicians have hypothesized that magic is genetic but-” I stop moving “-no, we don’t have time. I don’t even know what happened to you, body transformation spells are extremely dangerous.”

He looks sheepish. “Look at me, I’m fine! Can’t we think about all the possible magickal discoveries we could make?”

He must have done something really stupid.

“Come on, did you get cursed? Read one of my mother’s books that I told you not to open? Stare at that one family portrait in the hallway too long?”

“What happens if you stare at the family portrait?” He asks, looking curious and concerned.

“Doesn’t matter if that’s not what got you like this,” I say waving a hand.

“Okay.” He shakes his head then steps closer to me. “We could do some other experiments…” Shep tries to give me a suggestive look but it’s terrible on my face. Merlin, I hope I don’t look that bad when I’m trying to be sexy.

I will admit I’m not above the idea of “experimenting” with my clone, as Shepard is suggesting we try. It would be useful information to have, but this isn’t the same. It’s not me, it’s Shepard who looks like me. It’s too off-putting. And he does not know how to make my face look sexy.

He moves to kiss me, but I duck out of the way. He pouts at me.

“Tell me what the hell you did to get like this,” I say firmly.

“Fine! Fine… you’re not going to like this,” he says, as if there’s any scenario where Shepard looks like me that I would like. I mean, it is fascinating, but spells that can transform someone’s body this drastically are highly dangerous and mostly illegal. There’s also the fact that it’s extremely weird to be dating someone who looks exactly like me, I don’t know how long things could last if we don’t find a way to reverse this.

He leans against the kitchen island. “See I was showing Pacey this tiktok about a cool marble trick and then we started scrolling through my For You Page and there’s this audio that I’ve seen tons lately, you know because I end up on trans tiktok a lot…”

I’ll never understand tiktok. The first time Shep said “trans tiktok” and “gay tiktok” to me I thought he meant there were separate apps for different parts of the LGBTQ community.

“… and I agreed, the phrase ‘I’ve got a chick’s body’ does seem like it has great potential for a spell.”

Of bloody course. I try not to be an alarmist but at this point the internet truly is going to be the death of sustainable spells. Not to mention the general destruction of everyone’s attention spans and sanity.

“So you let Pacey cast a made up spell from tiktok on you, with no idea how it would turn out and no reversal spell in mind?” I can’t even find it in me to be shocked. I’m just trying to figure out which one of them I should spell into oblivion first.

“Okay yes.” Shep sighs. “But I haven’t gotten to the interesting part. See, you’d think the spell would turn me into a female version of myself, but I’m you, why is that? My theory is that it’s because the line is originally from a live action Scooby-Doo movie—I realized that the first time I heard it. However, I thought it was from this one scene where the gang’s like souls, get mixed around in each other’s bodies. So I was imagining that the spell would change me into a specific woman, like you. Even though it’s actually from a different scene where Shaggy drinks some potion that gives turns him into a chick. So that’s weird right? Are there any documented cases of a spell’s result changing based on the spell receiver’s thoughts? Or maybe Pacey was also  imaging I’d turn into you and that’s why I’m you and not a female version of me.”

“Ugh, there’re two of you now?” Pip groans from the doorway, holding his stuffed moose in one hand, and an empty glass in the other.

“You’re not done napping already, are you?” I ask, this is going to be hard enough without my siblings needing attention, I was hoping he’d sleep longer. “Go back upstairs and sleep for longer.”

Shepard takes the glass and fills it with more water for him.

“I’m only going to let one of you boss me around,” he says, crossing his arms, “so which one is the real Penny?”

“I’m Shep, we just messed up some magic. Do you want leftover pancakes?” He asks, opening the fridge. At least one of us is good with annoying little children.

When Pip’s back in his room, eating pancakes, I try all the usual spells for reversing on Shepard. None of them work.

Shepard tells me he really doesn’t mind being like this for a while, but I mind. I don’t think he realized that a while might be forever if we don’t find a solution.

I march up to Pacey’s room demanding he figure this out, considering it’s half his fault Shepard is stuck like this.

“The Normal didn’t say I had to think of a reversal spell when he said I could cast on him,” Pacey shrugs; refusing to take his eyes off the game he’s playing. “So it’s kind of on him.”

I want to strangle him. I would if I hadn’t promised my mom she’d return to two children who were alive and not seriously harmed in anyway. Maybe I could convince her a ruptured trachea doesn’t count as serious harm.  

“You know, that was totally on me for not thinking this through, but think about it this way, bud.” Shep says, leaning on the wall next to Pacey’s telly. (Shepard’s casual lean really doesn’t work in my short pudgy body) “If we figure out a reversal spell, then you’ll have your whole eighth year spell project in the bag, right?” He smiles at Pacey then looks to me for approval, like we’re doing some kind of good cop/bad cop routine.

Pacey rolls his eyes. “I already have three potential spells for the eighth year project, and this one would be a terrible candidate.”

“Pacey Bunce I swear to Stevie Nicks if you don’t-”

“I wasn’t finished yet,” he cuts me off, annoyed. “Luckily for you, one of my potential spells might work for this scenario, and your Normal could give me the dramatic transformation I need to be sure that it works.”

-

Shep stands in front of the bathroom mirror, still looking exactly like me. I sit on the edge of the tub, nervous to let my brother cast another experimental spell on Shep. Pacey stands in the doorway, pointing his wand at my boyfriend’s reflection.

“When will my reflection show-”

The magic starts working before he finishes the phrase. I stare at the mirror. It ripples like a puddle in the rain. I turn my eyes to Shepard and his form is rippling too. When the mirror settles, Shepard it back to being himself, in his own clothes.

“Oh thank Merlin,” I exhale.

“Told you,” Pacey says crossing his arms and looking smug.

Shepard grins wide at his reflection, and then at me. I stand to check it really worked and that he’s okay.

He seems to be fine, and he looks normal, though something’s a little different about his torso, maybe it’s his chest? I’m not sure.

Shep ducks down to kiss me, so I reach up to meet him. His lips are soft and his.

Pacey groans something from the doorway so I quickly spell the door the slam in his face. Louder complaints come from the other side of the door but I ignore them.

I put a hand on Shepard’s jaw to pull him into a deeper kiss but something different.

“You wanted sideburns?” I ask, rubbing my thumb across the new coarse hair on the side of his face.

“Huh,” he says, reaching up to feel the other side of his face. “I don’t know if I actively wanted them, but I’ve never been able to grow much facial hair, so that’s cool.” He leans over the counter to get a better look at his facial hair in the mirror. “They look kinda sick, right?” he asks, smiling even wider.

“They look nice,” I agree after some consideration.

“I wonder if I can grow a mustache now,” he grins.

I don’t hate the idea.

#coc 2021 #carry on countdown #carry on countdown 2021 #shepard/penny #stormchaser #carry on #the simon snow series #carry on fanfic #body swap #my writing #corascrap

[weighty-ghosts]

‘Blame it on the Firewhisky’ (wolfstar)

Blame it on the Firewhisky, by weightyghosts

“Sirius makes a drunken mistake at a Hufflepuff party and has to find a way to convince Remus that he’s still completely devoted to him. Unfortunately, Sirius is also still very drunk and really just wants to go to sleep.

Aka Remus’ patience is stretched beyond its reasonable limits.

Aka Sirius is a bad doggie.”

Rating: teen

Word Count: 5408 (2 chapters)

Pairing: Remus x Sirius

Published on: February 22, 2021

Warnings: swearing, intoxication, alcohol consumption, infidelity, dub/con (I promise the two people kissing at the beginning of this fic are equally drunk and no one is being taken advantage of, it’s just a misunderstanding- however, if consent and alcohol makes you uncomfy, please skip from “at some point” to “er, I actually have a-”)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29596605/chapters/72748656

    Sirius Black loved snogging. It was rather one of his favourite pastimes (just above tormenting Snivellus), and up until recently, four months and three weeks ago to be exact, he’d thought that snogging was as good as it could get. If he was involved in the snogging, it was bound to be brilliant because he was brilliant at snogging. Ask anyone.

What occurred four months and three weeks ago, was that Sirius discovered there was a way to make kissing even better, to make it a mind-blowing, body-shaking experience. All he had to do was kiss Remus Lupin. And Merlin, did Sirius fucking love kissing Remus Lupin. It quickly became his preferred way to spend his time.

Last week, during a thoroughly delicious snogging session, Sirius briefly considered placing one of his infamous Permanent Sticking Charms on their lips so they never had to part. But that would have impeded his other hobby: consuming firewhisky. (Also occasionally eating and shouting obscenities at his brother, but he could’ve sorted something out.)

The party this evening seemed to have an abundance of both Remus-kisses and firewhisky, and both in excess. It was a raucous affair, in celebration of Hufflepuff’s defeat of Ravenclaw in Quidditch, and boy do those Hufflepuffs know how to throw a party.

He couldn’t be sure how much firewhisky he’d ingested, but seeing as he could hardly stand up straight at the moment, it was safe to assume it had been a lot. There might have also been a butterbeer or two at some point. Or maybe Remus had drunk the butterbeer. Sirius could certainly taste it on his lips now.

His mind swam back into consciousness and he realized there was something hard and uncomfortable pushing into his back. There was also something hard pushing against his front, but it was more soft and pleasant.

His tongue was definitely in action, and he should probably do something with his hands (Remus did enjoy a good bum squeeze during times like these), but it was entirely too much effort to move his arms from their resting place on his boyfriend’s shoulders.

Remus didn’t seem to mind though, judging by the throaty noise he’d just made. It wasn’t a noise Sirius had heard before, but that’s alright. He also seemed to be producing more saliva than usual, but that’s alright too. There was a hand slipping under his shirt, and Sirius sighed happily, making Remus’s shoulders shake with giggles. Remus didn’t often giggle, but that’s alright.

He found a way for his brain to send signals to his limbs again, and slid his hands down Remus’ chest and abdomen, and around to his cute little bum.

“Bloody hell,” Remus whispered, though it didn’t sound like Remus, but that’s al-

Wait. That didn’t sound like Remus?

Sirius sluggishly opened his eyes (not a small feat), and looked up into the bleary, blinking brown eyes of someone that was definitely not his boyfriend. “Agh!” He exclaimed, pushing the person away from him, “The bloody hell’re you doing!”

The person, a bloke, a student, a Ravenclaw by the looks of him, stumbled backwards, tripped over a chair, and fell in what seemed like slow motion, landing on his bottom.

“Whaz’tha for, Black?” The Ravenclaw boy asked indignantly, though his outrage was severely undermined by how much he was slurring his words.

“You were kissing me!”

“You asked m’too!”

“I- what?” Asked him to? Sirius would never ask anyone to kiss him that wasn’t a honey-haired werewolf with a repressed biting kink.

“You dragged m’in here!” The boy said as he slowly stood up. He swayed heavily on his feet before stumbling sideways into a desk, which he managed to keep himself upright with. “Ow. I mean, I think y’did. Someone did the dragging in the...here.”

Ah, good. At least they were both completely shit-faced.

“Well y’shouldn’t snog dunk-drunk people,” Sirius declared, quite righteously, though he had a sneaking suspicion his outrage was also being undermined.

“Neither should you!” The other boy pointed out.

Sirius thought about this for a second, then decided he would rather be doing anything other than thinking. “Fair enough,” he replied pleasantly.

He straightened himself up, taking a deep breath to steady the alcohol he could feel dancing through his veins, and took a step away from the door he’d been leaning against (and the large brass doorknob that had been digging into his back). He walked towards the Ravenclaw, almost tripping over his own feet, and stuck his hand out to shake the boy’s, but missed wildly and jabbed him somewhere south of his ribs. “Whoopsy, sorry, mate.”

The boy waved him off and pushed away from the desk, moving quickly towards the door.

“Hey! I’m going tha’way!” Sirius yelled.

“’S’only one exit, Black.”

Sirius was fairly certain there were two, but he could have been seeing double and therefore didn’t trust his eyes. He nudged the other boy out of the way and opened the door, walking through and blinking into the sudden brightness of the torch-lit hall.

“Where the sweet Circe am I?” He mumbled to himself, not able to remember what part of the castle he was in or how he’d gotten there. Damn Hogwarts for having so many wings and hallways and walls that all look alike.

“Did y’know your hair smells like- like candy floss?” the Ravenclaw slurred, coming up from behind Sirius and leaning in to his side.

“Huh,” Sirius replied distractedly. He had no idea why that would be, and didn’t really care at the moment. Where even were his so-called best friends?

“Y’know what?” The boy asked.

“Mmh?” He tried to focus his eyes on any portraits or landmarks so he could figure out where he was. There seemed to be a fair number of students in the hall; it must not be past curfew yet. How pathetic. Blackout drunk before curfew.

He felt warm puffs of breath on his neck. Was that the painting of the fruit near the kitchens? Were they near the Hufflepuff common room? That rang a bell, didn’t it?

“We should do this again when we’re sober,” the boy said directly into Sirius’ right ear.

“Er, I actually have a- Moony!” Sirius called excitedly when he spotted his boyfriend, relief flooding through him at the sight. Moony will be able to tell him where he is.

Remus was standing very still after just emerging from a hidden door with a few other people Sirius didn’t bother looking at. Remus didn’t look very happy for some reason.

“A what?” The Ravenclaw mumbled questioningly into Sirius’ neck.

A muscle in Remus’ jaw twitched and it was like a switch had been flicked: he stormed over to Sirius, fists clenched, with an absolutely murderous look on his face. Sirius couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was when he wanted to kill someone, his eyes bright and deadly.

“What the fuck are you doing, Sirius?”

“Aw, why’re you grumpy, Moony?” Sirius pouted at his beautiful angry boyfriend.

“Ohh, ’s’this Moony?” The boy asked, lifting his head and circling a heavy arm around Sirius’ shoulders, “I thought y’said, ‘moon me,’ which I thought was a bit, y’know, aggressive since it was our first time snogging.”

Sirius giggled. He was definitely going to ask Remus to moon him later. He was about to tell Remus so, when he noticed the hurt look flash across his face, followed by stone cold fury.

“Snogging?” Remus asked in a deep, dangerous voice.

Sirius frowned at him, then turned to the Ravenclaw boy, having to lean back so their faces weren’t too close. He’d forgotten they’d been accidentally kissing. He looked back at Remus for an explanation for this strange turn of events. Remus was always able to explain things so very well with his smart words.  

“I see,” Remus said, and Sirius swore he saw the wolf lurk behind his amber eyes; not the playful wolf who liked to romp around with Padfoot, but the wolf that would tear a human to shreds if given the chance. “Guess you don’t need me around, do you, Sirius?”

“Moony!” Sirius whined, attempting to push the other boy off of him. “It’s not like that! ’S’just a mistake!”

He wished he wasn’t so pissed so he could properly explain to Remus what had happened; he was sure Remus would laugh about it when he knew all the facts. He managed to prop the boy against the door of the classroom, and finally got a good look at him in the warm light. A small laugh escaped his lips.

“Look, Moony, Moons, look, you’re practically twins.”

This wasn’t strictly true. But the boy was tall and lanky, with similarly-coloured hair to Remus’. He whipped his head back to Remus with a grin on his face, the bun on top of his head wobbling carelessly, certain that Remus was about to start laughing with him. He did not.

“Sirius,” he said in that same low voice, “When have you ever known me to wear a fucking Ravenclaw Quidditch jersey?”

Sirius’ eyebrows knitted together in confusion and he looked back at the not-Remus-bloke. Sure enough, he was wearing a blue and bronze Quidditch jersey, an eagle prominently displayed.

“When’d you put tha’ on?” He demanded, suddenly very annoyed with this person he only now hazily recognized from one of his classes. Herbology maybe.

Remus huffed. “Don’t worry, Sirius, I’m sure you can offer to take it off for him. Don’t let me stop you.”

“Noo, Moony! I don’t want to take anything off, it’s-”

But Remus shoved Sirius aside and kept walking down the hall, not noticing, or not caring, that Sirius had tipped over and fallen into a statue of a badger. It gave Sirius a dirty stare for disturbing it, before returning to its regal position upon a boulder.

“Y’r boyfriend doesn’t seem very happy,” the boy stated, helping Sirius stand up, then helping him again when they both fell back over.

“No, I don’t s'ppose he is,” Sirius murmured, brushing off the boy and starting to walk away in the direction Remus went. At least, he was pretty sure it was this way. He called over his shoulder as he went, “Bye, Ravenclaw.”

“M’name’s Benjy!”

“Yeah, yeah, bye, Benny,” Sirius said, waving vaguely behind him and pushing through a group of Hufflepuff girls. His mind was whirling like the first time he tried to apparate, but he managed to focus on one thing: Moony. Moony thinks he cheated on him. His Moony thinks he cheated on him. His Moony is upset.

He has to find his Moony.

*

Read chapter 2 here!

#wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #ficbyweightyghosts #angst and fluff #angst with a happy ending #happy ending #there's infidelity and tears but it's somehow also funny and fluffy? #just trust me #it's cute #marauders #marauders era #hogwarts

[aurora-the-kunoichi]

The Forgotten - Part Six Return of the Nerd

Full story here

SMUT FO SHO MY BITCHES, CAUSE THATS HOW I DO!

Despite her failing protests Michelangelo personally escorted Aurora from the compound. She really had no choice in the matter, if she tried to fight him, she would attract unwanted attention and she’d be found out. Thankfully, Mikey didn’t seem too keen on bringing her to Bishop, he actually looked a little nervous as his eyes moved about the hallway seeming to keep her from full view of all cameras. But she had gotten what she wanted, confirmation of Bishop’s base, the one they had been searching for, for years. This was a good thing; it was a win in her eyes.

He walked her through the main gate making sure to keep his massive frame in front of the cameras and guards to shield her presence. This was all so surreal; so much had changed in the last few months. They went from trying to end her life to being unable to control their hormones like horny teenagers but still wary of her motives. She’d take it.

 As they came to the edge of the compound’s boundaries Mikey stopped turning to look at the kunoichi. His large mitt palmed the side of Aurora’s throat before running up to cup her cheek. His rough thumb drug over her bottom lip and he let out a soft sigh which by the sudden bunch of his shoulder muscles was unexpected. His eyes scanned over her face and a look of contentment flash over his baby blues but morphed to concern. “Leo said you told him there’s something inside of us, all of us. What is it?”

 Taking a deep breath, she let it out ready to give him some answers his overactive brain was so desperately in need of, “It looks like a tiny metal octopus, like smaller than an eraser head. It constantly moves so it’s difficult to locate inside the body and why we weren’t able to figure out how he’s been controlling you all. We only found out recently and by pure accident. If only we had Donnie…..”

 “Donnie?”

 Closing her eyes momentarily Aurora let out a heavy sigh and she looked up into his baby blues, “He’s your brother. He went missing almost four years ago, a year before you, Leo and Raph were taken.” Another deep breath, but she decided to keep the new formation of Donnie trying to return from him. If he was lying, which he had always been a horrible liar but just in case he grew some new skills since he was reprogramed Aurora kept that little nugget of info close to her chest.  

 Mikey cocked his head rubbing the back of head, she could see him wince a little and his eyes fog over. “He’s a genius….purple.”

 “Yeah, you’re right….Mike did that hurt you to think of that?”

 “It felt like someone was trying to drill into the back of my skull. Fuckin burns man.”

 Aurora moved quickly around to the back of the terrapin and pressed her palm to the back of his bald crown. There, she fucking felt it, the flutter of something under his flesh caught between his skull and his scalp. She reached for his hand and yanked it back to replace hers. “There! Do you feel it?!”

 It took him a few seconds to feel the movement but when he did Mikey’s body jolted with surprise. “What the hell? Fuck!” His fingers cupped it trying to grab at it. “There is something in me! Cut it out! Jesus get it out!”

 “I-I can’t Mike, that’s your skull, that’s a little more important than your shin or arm. It could get infected I don’t want to lose you to something as stupid as that. Besides its dark and I have nothing to grab it. My fingers would be covered in blood and that thing would slip free.”

 “Fuck, it’s gone.” He began to touch his skin trying to find it again.

 “The skull maybe blocks the transmission a little? I’ve seen your x-rays; you guys have thick skulls. Maybe the mutagen? I don’t know…..” Slowly she took his hand in hers pulling them to her cheeks, the gesture stopped his frenzy. “Why didn’t you turn me into Bishop? I was at your mercy and you didn’t give me over to him. You could have easily done so?”

 “Your eyes.” He cupped her cheeks and locked eyes, “They’re the windows to the soul. The first time we ‘met’ I could see the sadness and the happiness all at the same time. You were legit happy to see us and then it morphed to sadness then terrified. If we had never met before, which we were meant to believe, I would have expected you to be terrified, which is what most people experience when they first see us. But you were happy, relieved even. Fuck, you even knew our god damn names. Like, I was shooketh!  When we got back to base and I confronted Bishop. Bishop told me you were a kunoichi, you were a seductress using your womanly wiles to make us doubt the mission and must have gotten our names from a captured soldier. But your emotions were genuine, so I had trouble brushing it off. Then Raph had his little meet and great with you. You didn’t try to take him, just trying to talk. And then Leo, you could have easily killed him after you sent him to dream land…..awesome job by the way…..but you let him fucking go. What kind of enemy lets their enemies go? You didn’t hurt either of them. When I saw you in the hallway and the way you looked at me when I pulled you into that room, I could see happiness again. No one is happy to see us, not even Bishop. Right now, I can see love.”

 Aurora could see tears begin to form at the corner of his eyes and her body responded following suit. “You were always so intuitive Mikey. I do, I love you, I love all of you. I miss you so much. I wish I could take you home with me.”

 “I know, I know not until you get this slippery little fucker out of us. Plus, I need to stay here and make sure my bros are ok. He cut up Raph to punish Leo for not fulfilling the mission last night.”

 “He did what?! That’s Raph’s blood on your hands?! …..Mission?”

 “Calm down he’s fine, nothing life threatening. Leo was supposed to get loose and tell us where you were, but he never reported in. I guess Leo found something a little more entertaining.” He chuckled half heartily. “I don’t blame him…”

 “Speaking of, how are you doing down there champ?”

 “Blue balls for sure, but I’ll be fine nothing I can’t take care of in a little bit. If it wasn’t for all the security a few hundred feet away I’d have that pretty little pussy of yours stretched over this cock until you were hoarse from screaming my name.”

 Heat flushed her checks and felt the warmth of new arousal bloom in her abdomen at the thought. “I’d let you too. But I need to get out of here before they get suspicious. I mean when you came down that hallway you looked determined.  Where were you heading?”

 Mikey’s eyes widened, “Fuck! I was going to get more bandages! I gotta go! I’ll see you soon Blondie!” and just like that he was gone, running towards the base at top speed. As he reached the main yard he began weaving around and jumping over bodies until he was a speck entering back into the compound.

 It took Aurora less time to head back to her bike still being careful of motion detectors, she took to the streets and as she was a good distance away, she slowed her bike to a stop and pressed the com in her ear.

 “White skull to base.”

 It took a few minutes, but the familiar voice of Casey came over the com his mouth apparently filled with food. “This is Base, go ahead White Skull.”

 “We have confirmation. Disneyland has been located.”

  She didn’t go home right away, the talk of Donnie made Aurora take a detour to the lair. She informed Casey of her next stop and made her way below the streets. Everything was how she left it, dark and empty. Lights began to flicker on illuminating the large space; she moved to the kitchen pulling out a water and cracked it open downing the entire contents in one motion. She moved slowly eyeing the closed door to Donnie’s lab and decided that was where she wanted to be.

 The door opened without a sound and she slipped inside keeping the arch in view. She willed it to come alive with power, to give her back Donnie. As she reached the piece of vexing machinery her fingers ran over the smooth edges finding them surprisingly warm. The lair was naturally cool due to the depth it laid so for the metal to be warm was odd. She moved to the controls and looked for any activity, lights coming alive under the key of the board, a flickering on the screen indicating any type of activity? Anything……anything of Donnie……

 Minutes turned to hours, but she remained glued to her spot. Something in her gut told her to stay, not to leave the lair, not yet. Swiveling in his specially designed chair Aurora picked up a small device on Donatello’s desk and spun it around in her hands. It was glass, a cube to be exact, the reflective qualities were gorgeous, a prism effect. It was a light he had been working on, powered by the warmth from one’s hands. It only took a few moments for the cube to begin to flicker with the variety of colors of a rainbow. The longer she held it the brighter it got. When it reached the desired brightness, she placed it back on his work bench and stared into the shifting hues.

 He had yet to perfect the device, it only held the charge for an hour or two, but he was certain he was about to have a breakthrough with the conversion of power. Something with the helix bonds or whatever. She knew he’d get it; she just didn’t think it would take this long.

 She began to doze mesmerized by the lit cube. Her eyes half closed unfocused on anything she was suddenly aware the light was getting brighter? Did he fix something about it before he disappeared? Blinking her eyes rapidly she focused on the cube finding it like how it should be, dulling with time. Then what was that bright light?

 The sounds of electricity crackling began to rise in volume in his lab along with the pulsing of light she had mistaken from the cube. The source now tore her gaze from Donnie’s work bench to the very much active arch. The light grew in intensity nearly blinding her as Aurora stood from her seat. She shielded her eyes with her arms and watched the arch snap and flicker with power.

 A circle began to open within its circumference swirling between a greyish color and a bright blue. Then it started to fluctuate, and a figure began to form inside the growing vortex. The lines were fuzzy keeping the picture unclear, but her heart jumped and clenched with anxiousness at the forming figure. It had to be, it just had to be.

 Without warning a burst of energy blew from the vortex sending Aurora back with its unexpected force. She toppled over his chair and into a stack of computer parts scattering them across the floor and Aurora on her ass. She quickly got to her feet and found the arc now stable giving her a perfect view of the genius. There was no flickering now, no waves of misaligns data, just a clear as day view of Donatello and it was glorious.

 With unsure steps she made her way around the new mess on the lab floor but kept every sense, every ounce of her concentration on the tall missing terrapin staring back at her through the newly working portal.

 She didn’t know when she had started crying but her cheeks were soaked and her voice unsure, but she called out, “D-Don?”

 Donnie face broke out into an exuberant smile and he reached down for what looked like a bag and hoisted it over his broad shoulder. His left leg rose and slipped through the portal falling onto the cement floor of his lab and the rest of his body followed suit until he was living, breathing, real flesh and bone standing a few excruciating feet away from the trembling woman.

 His tall frame was dressed in new clothes, his legs covered in properly fitted grey slacks with expensive looking custom black boots on his massive feet, old gadgets were gone replaced with smaller fancier items. His backpack was missing but his goggles remained but looked to have gotten a major upgrade. She could see his bo was still there also looking newer. Gone were his broken turtle glasses replaced with black rimed frames that better fit his face making the nerd look more sophisticated. Did he look bigger? The clothes were throwing her off. Where the fuck has he been? The words were on her lips, but she couldn’t move, all her screaming muscles cried out to touch him but she was paralyzed by shock. Four years, it had been, four years since she had seen him in the flesh.  

 The heavy leather duffle was set down and Donatello looked her up and down and he let out a long, very happy shuttering sigh. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

 His voice finally broke her from her paralysis, and she stormed forward leaping into his arms praying she wasn’t hallucinating but the solid body that caught her was very much there and very much real. He was home.

 Her hands ran over him just to make sure, up and down his arms, over his neck to the top of his muscled shoulders. Her fingers worked the first few buttons free and felt the familiar scars and gouges of his chest nearly sobbing at the realization of his return.

 “You’re here, you’re really here!”

 “I am, god, it took so long but I’m here.” His finger hooked under her chin so their eyes locked. Purple and brown both flooded with happy tears. “I’ve missed you.” His lips found hers, soft at first growing with enthusiasm as Aurora responded with vigor.

 As their mouths engaged and reengaged in desperate collisions Aurora began to finish stripping the genius of his fancy shirt. Her fingers pulled the fabric from his shoulders, down his arms until he was free. To her delight she was right; Donatello had been working on his fitness while he had been stripped from his family. Donnie had been no weakling by any means, the purple banned terrapin could easily crush a skull with his bare hands but he had bulked up in his time away.  Eager fingers ran along the ridges of the solid definition squeezing hard with appreciation.

 Their mouths broke free pulling in gulps of air and Aurora’s moved to his chiseled jaw line nipping at the scales until he was panting.

 “Don” she mewled between open mouth kisses down his long throat, “Donnie……D……Donatello.” The more she moaned his name the louder he crooned until he reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it free of her body in one fluid motion.

 “Aurora.” He moaned cupping one breast with his free hand. Gently he squeezed and rolled the fabric over the mound finding the bud beneath peek quickly. His finger caught the bra and pulled it down releasing a breast to his gaze. With a heave Donnie lifted her higher so his mouth could cover the hot flesh sucking and nipping until her could feel the fabric of her pants dampen with her arousal against his plastron. “God, you smell divine. I want to taste you but I don’t think I can wait.”

 There was so much to discuss, so much he didn’t know about. Donnie had no idea his brothers were no longer with the resistance and under Bishop’s control but he looked so happy in this moment and truth was so was Aurora. She would wait to break his heart, they would take this moment, they both needed it. It was a happy reunion and she was sure there would be more now with Donnie back.  Gripping his cheeks she ground against him, “Then don’t.”

 Donatello wasted no time and brought her over to his abandoned desk shoving everything from its surface. He dropped her down and yanked her boots and pants free of her body to begin fumbling with his belt. Aurora’s hands pushed them from the buckle and worked them free with trained ease. The button and zipper were next, teeth opening quickly but making sure not to harm the precious cargo beneath. When the massive erection sprung free of its confines Aurora’s hands were quick to gather the throbbing flesh in both palms.

 The connection with hot flesh against her expert hands made Donnie groan in bliss. His hips shifted making his cock slide through her fingers and she gripped it firmly getting a shuttering sigh from the genius. Her finger found the dripping helm gathering the moister and ran the pad of her finger down the underside of his length staying with the pulsing vein. A hiss pulled through clenched teeth followed by a throaty call of her name. Aurora leaned back spreading her thighs giving him full view of her soaked folds.

 His eyes blew wide at the sight and leaned forward grabbing her right thigh hoisting it up over his shoulder while pressing her back on the cold table. Reaching between them Donatello palmed his length running the spongy head through her folds drenching himself in her scent and essence. Donnie rumbled low closing his eyes to push the head of his cock just past her opening. He stilled at the tightness and the sound of Aurora’s hitch in breath. Rocking slightly he sheathed himself an inch before withdrawing nearly pulling free of her body.

 “D-Donnie….please”

His eye opened looking down at his kunoichi, her face was beautifully flushed, chest heaving and her lips parted with rough breaths. Still only one breast freed from it fabric prison Donnie reached down to free the other. His large hands covered both mounds and the mutant eased more of himself into her, slowly, until every last inch of him was engulfed in the sweet wet heat of Aurora.  

 Both let out a shaky sign at their long past due union and Donnie leaned down to capture her mouth in a searing kiss. He pushed forward again and the pressure of his girth and length made the woman beneath him mewl, arching and twisting to get him to move.

 “Patience Rora, it’s been far too long since I’ve had you.” Slow and deliberate he began to withdrawal tilting himself so he would drag across the roof of her canal. “…far too long.” Reluctantly his hands left her reddened breasts and moved to her hips snapping his own forward with deliberate intention of making Aurora more vocal. He was rewarded pleasantly when her head snapped back at the sudden reentry and a whimpering moan of his name erupted from her throat. It encouraged the deprived terrapin further and Donnie repeated the process at an agonizingly slow pace until she was pleading with him to fuck her.  

 Aurora reached up to grab the rim of the genius’s plastron and she pulled him down, her mouth finding his hungrily.  Lips parted, tongues wound together and the long lost familiar taste of the genius invaded Aurora’s senses like a barreling freight train. It came and she sobbed into his mouth but didn’t’ break the dance.

 The pained sound didn’t startle Donnie but he did pull her closer removing all space that was between them. “I’m sorry.” He pleaded between each drive of his hips. “I’m so sorry.” With each breathless apology his rhythm picked up rutting into the kunoichi with fevered abandon.

 His mouth disconnected with hers traveling down to her throat nipping and sucking making sure to leave marks. It had been years since he had seen his own brand on her skin and he was determined to leave enough so each time she looked in the mirror these next few days he would be the only thing on her mind.  

 Aurora rocked into each plunge of his length whimpering with each strike into her depths. This was so much different than the other day. When she had Leo it was him physically but Leo wasn’t there mentally; he was in his head locked away but not present in the act, maybe to some extent but she couldn’t be sure just yet.

 Donatello was here, all of him; mind body and soul and it made the reunion much more intense. As he drove her to the precipice her hands groped at the dense muscles of his arms dragging him back into her. She was desperate for every inch of him, every drop she was prepared to receive.

 She could feel it, the beginnings of her peek. It started slow like an over flowing sink, the tingling sensation of her climax rolled in her cunt moving to the stretched lips of her labia swallowing his pumping cock.

 Donnie growled feeling her walls started flutter around him, “Are you going to cum for me? I’ve been dre-ahh-aming of his moment for almost five years now. How many times I’ve imagined you under me to give myself a little piece.” His hips picked up in speed to help her along chasing his own in the process. “Cum.” He demanded. “Cum for Donnie.”

 With his command it rolled up her belly and spread like wild fire as Aurora toppled over her peek. Her climax overtook her body tensing, arching into him and she screamed. Open mouthed echoing into the once vacant room she came undone around him.

 “F-f-uck, so tight…..I’m gonna…….” One, two, three more pistons of his hips and Donatello drove forward one last time anchoring himself as far as her body would allow. His beak nudged Aurora’s head to the side to expose her throat and his teeth latched onto the slender column to hold his lover steady as he gave her his release. His cock pulsated painfully and finally erupted with rich ropes of his ejaculate flooding her insides. With each ebbing flow of his climax Donnie rocked into her body with small shallow movements until every drop of his seed was deposited into her womb.

 It took a few minutes for both to calm down, clinging to each other unwilling to disconnect just yet. He was still seated within her as her fingers ran along the top of his shell in slow soothing motions.  She didn’t want to move, she just wanted to enjoy being close to Donnie, he was back, real. His smell was soothing, and his slowing heart beat that thudded against his plastron would easily lull her to sleep. But now it was time for questions, time for answers and he needed to know about his brothers.

 Aurora’s fingers moved to his skull and moved along the back to run down the base of his spin that transitioned into his carapace. He shuttered at the sensation and finally leaned up to look her in the eyes.  

 “Hi.” He whispered ghosting his lips over hers.

 “Hey yourself, nerd.”

 His brown eyes moved over Aurora’s flushed features taking her in, really looking her over for the first time in four years. He could she was happy, and sated for that matter but there as something else in those violet eyes. Then it hit him, they usually moved in pairs, one of his brothers should have been in her company. “Why are you here alone? Are they at the base?”

 She knew who Don was referring too and shifted under him. “Don…there is something I need to tell you.”

 Donnie’s lazy smile lowered his afterglow forgotten. Slowly he pulled from Aurora’s depths and helped her from the table. His lips pressed in a thin line. “No, please don’t tell me……..they’re…….”

 Aurora quickly grabbed for his face not wanting him to finish the sentence. “No! No, they’re not.” She watched his tense body relax at the knowledge his brothers were not dead. “But…they fell under Bishop’s control. Over three years ago Bishop set up an elaborate plan to capture them, you as well if you were with us. He tricked us with false information from a faulty lead and trapped them in an electrified cage. We weren’t able to get to them in time before he stole them away. We barely made it out with our lives as it was. It broke me, broke us, I don’t think the resistance ever fully recovered from the loss of you all. Casey and I ran into them a few months ago for the first time since losing them after trying to confiscate a tech truck that they were overseeing. Leo…Leo nearly killed me. They didn’t know who I was.” Her finger ran over the scar on her abdomen. “But that meeting triggered something in them. All three of them were then drawn to me; I’ve had rather intense interactions with each of them since then.”

 She watched the emotions run across his face; confusion, anger, sadness and finally acceptance. “We’ll get them back. I promise I’ll work day and night to continue my work on how he’s controlling them. We’ll find them, bring them home, I didn’t work my ass off for four years and across several dimensions to not see my brothers again.”

 “That’s the other thing Don, we found it.”

 “Found it?” He parroted tilting his head in confusion.  

 “What Bishop puts in his victims to control them. It’s back at the base at R & D for analysis. It looks like a tiny octopus. We just need to figure out the ‘how’ now, and cut the communication and…. fuck…. we found Bishop’s allusive base tonight too.”

 Donnie cupped her checks and pressed another life stealing kiss to her mouth. With a pop he pulled away with a toothy grin. “You have been rather successful without us.”

 Eyes closed she savored his taste licking her lips, he still drank coffee. They had that where he was? “It took us a bit but you came back just in time to give us a win.” Then her violet eyes snapped open and her palm pressed against his chest applying pressure until the mutant fell into his computer chair with a grunt. She then climbed back on top the genius’s lap and gripped the sides of his plastron looking him square in the eyes. “Now genius…..spill it, where the FUCK have you been?”

 His hands went back to her hips and let out a sigh, “That night when I disappeared I had an epiphany; I came down here with an idea that this thing could help us.” His long arm gestured to his most recent ride home and returned to her lower back to rub the pads of his fingers along her still exposed flesh.  “I was working to use it to access different dimensions….eventually: the nexus, new worlds but what if I used it for a simpler purpose? Move our soldiers from base to a target location to utilize the element of surprise? It would lower the chances of casualties by 30%. I was just going do a test honestly but I must have hit the wrong the button and found myself sucked into the arch and in a new world a very strange new world.”

 “How strange?”

 “Like another version of my brothers and I strange.”

 Aurora’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “More mutant turtles? Like you? Are you fucking kidding me?”

 “Yes I know, it was rather a large shock for me let me tell you. I dropped right into their lair right on top of another Michelangelo. They looked a little different than us, shorter, no clothes besides leather obi’s, knee and elbow pads. Younger versions with their Master splinter still alive, same dynamic though, with Leonardo still as leader. Their Donnie was brilliant; making miraculous things with trash, a very resourceful terrapin in deed. He had made a battle shell, a shell sub and a sewer slider, plus others. Anyways, naturally they were rather distressed seeing my tall ass drop in on them in their home unannounced. After a few hours of telling them my story, and talking about my own brothers and their similarities, Donnie and his brothers agreed to help me get home.  As you can see it took longer than we thought it would, finding the right components and a power source had proved more challenging than anticipated. Then finding the right coordinates proved another hurdle to overcome. I got here on accident so it was trial and error until I saw you the other day through the portal. It was the most glorious sight I had ever seen but the power course failed under the strain, which is why I couldn’t come through. We needed to reinforce it to support the transdimensional pull from the other dimensions trying to break through.  After we fixed that problem and your face appeared clear as day on the other side I knew we had gotten it right.”

 She looked at him absentmindedly running her palms over his exposed biceps, another dimension with more mutant turtle brothers? How many more she wondered quickly before shaking herself from the thought. “Did they have their own Bishop?”

 “Yes, actually they do, and strangely enough as Donnie and I were working one night he confessed his own trip to another dimension or terrible future, he wasn’t sure. It was around our timeline and age; I guess their Donnie had disappeared without a trace as well. Mikey had lost an arm, Raph his eye and Leo his entire eye sight. Casey had passed and the villain was shredder. He had enslaved the entire world killing master Splinter in the process which threw a massive wedge between Leo and Raphael, a very violent wedge that kept them apart for years.”

 “Fuck….I…”

 “There’s more…… they managed to defeat Shredder with Donnie’s help but Leo, Raph and Mikey perished in the fight. It happened years ago and it still gives him nightmares. It would me too, watching my brothers die right in front of me. I don’t think I’d ever recover.” Wiping away a stray tear Donatello gripped her body tighter remembering she had to witness them all ripped from her.  “All these years you had no idea what happened to me and then you lose the rest of them. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t get back sooner. I promise we’ll get them back.”

 She could see the anxiety rise in the genius as he began to process everything. How similar the scenarios were for both worlds and after everything he was still without most of his family. “Deep breaths Donnie, I need you level headed when we head back to base. I know we’ll get them back now that you’re back home. There’s a lot of work to be done and April and Casey are gonna be over the moon to see you. I’m so happy to see you.”

 She was about to remover herself from his lap when she felt the head of his cock nudge against her entrance and soon found herself stuffed full of her genius once again. Donnie took Aurora two more times before he relinquished his hold on her and allowed her to dress.

 Pulling her back into his embrace after watching Aurora tie her katana back to her hip Don pressed a few open mouthed kisses to her throat. “I’m sorry, I have four years of pent up need for you to work through. You’re not going to walk right for a week after I’ve had my fill.”

 His voice dropped at the delicious threat making her shiver at his continued advances and lean into his plastron. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

 The run back to base was pleasant with Donatello right by her side. His long legs made him naturally faster which pushed her harder to keep up with the lanky turtle but the occasionally view of his perfectly round cheeks wasn’t a bad thing either. She couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into them later tonight.

 “White skull to base.” Aurora called into her com as they moved to the final block of their trek home.

 “This is base, please go ahead White Skull.”

 “Will you tell The Curator and Meathead that I’m bring home a present.”

 “Will do, ETA?”

 “Five minutes.”

 “See you then.”

 Donnie slowed down looking at his kunoichi. “You’re not gonna tell them I’m coming?”

 “I wanna see their faces when they lay eyes on you. I wanna keep that memory forever and put it with the same one we’ll get when your brothers return home.”

 @imthegreenfairy88​ @ravn-87​ @alonia143​ @tmntspidergirl​ @blossom-skies​

#tmnt #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michaelangelo #the forgotten #part six #return on the nerd #aurora-the-kunoichi #self indulgent bullshit

[aueua]

Marona’s Fantastic Tale (2019) AU where the dog lives and others are happier. Idea bounced with @mushrium a few weeks back; details under cut.

Yes, I am aware that hardly anyone knows of this movie (but maybe more’ll know it now due to the streamer albeit even then this is unlikely to be a proper fandom, maybe, maybe not). Doesn’t matter. This now exists for archiving purposes.

First and foremost: Spoilers abound, don’t seek further if you don’t want them by any means - with that said, also good luck if you aren’t aware of what the movie is but I’ll do my best to give some context as necessary. (Post-edit: No clarification. Very sorry.)

See also: The movie is not for everyone but it can be appreciated artistically for its fluidity and variety of styles. There is also a lot of symbolism and the dog narrator is impeccable. I love Nine. I love her, I do.

Okay! Here we go.

Recall the [Lost Dog Sign] that is posted some scenes after Nine (protagonist, dog) left Manole (red and yellow, acrobat entertainer) and she’s picked up by Istvan beloved (Tumblr nose, big guy). Istvan may be driving and potentially distracted; however, he absolutely sees that sign. And it doesn’t quite click, not yet. He’s worried about his mother, his wife, himself, this dog. Dog... Dog! This doesn’t register until he’s arrived at his ill mother’s home. That dog on the wanted sign looks eerily like the one he just picked up... and come to think of it, it did seem well cared for...

So he fudges around, figures out what the number is.

An answer. And with one thing leading to another, Istvan figured that this guy is sincere: He loves this dog much like he does. (But he believed that Manole loved her more, deserved her more, and it isn’t likely he can bring her quite anywhere...) So. They meet up. Guy really is nice, but Istvan can see it - the acrobat’s nerves are a bit shot after all that worrying and desperation to find this dog again. Ana (dog), was it? (There was an inkling that he should call her Sara but Ana is also quite the nice name. It’s fine. And thank goodness, that he did not name her, since goodbyes would be worse.)

They part, and that is that. Istvan checked on his mother, returned to his choking snake of a wife (yellow skin ostritch, black fluff); Manole reobtained his beloved boy (girl, he knows), managed to get a contract that allowed him to work with her in the La Circe (???) troupe thingamabob since it was either them or nothing. Both of these two keep in touch with each other as Istvan is worried and, admittedly, attached to the dog after those moments in the dumps viva la his loneliness. Plus Manole’s a fun personality. He’s considered going to see one of his acts, once, but his wife’s a bit overbearing.

A bit overbearing, as in a time skip occurs and he still had yet to leave her toxic self, nor could he bear to see his mother but still stuck it through.

Come to think of it though. Manole is obviously happy, and so is the dog. He can’t recall a moment with his wife recently where he felt... happy, sincerely. Perhaps in the past, when he’d strum his guitar and skate around - free and without the exhaustion of judgment and micromanagement? He deserved better. There’s just no right timing, though, as he can’t find the motivation to work himself up and tell his wife they need a divorce for both of their own sakes.

And then his wife gave him the ultimatum: Her, or that stupid acrobat with the dog and his mother.

Well, well. Fine. He doesn’t need to pack much, and he doesn’t need to say anything. He’s rearing to go. The wife? Cocky. All until she realized quite quickly that he was serious, dead serious, and she begged and pleaded and smothered herself all over him trying to get him to obey her every whim just like before. That it was a joke, an act, a test to see where he would be really happy but she needed him and who else would indulge her needs and fluff up her ego with the beefcake of a man?

Too bad! He’s gone, but he’s also an incredible mess and it was incredibly short-notice and maybe he should’ve thought things out better, but he’s free. He’s never felt so relieved. It’s quite cold, dark, and alone, but everything seems so much more colorful and bright now but also he really should find a place to say and strangely, his immediate thought is to call up Manole -- but he’s asleep, isn’t he? Or working? He shouldn’t bother him, he should go to his mother. But...

He called. Decided that if he did not get an answer, he would let him know another time (never, really). And nobody picked up. So as he’s ready to drive out, he gets a call: It’s Manole. He picked up, and he heard the groggy-confused voice of an acrobat ringing out with the delightful barks of Ana in the background to give him the image that oh, she must have woken him up, and oh, he’s smiling. They chat for the night. As in. They meet up again, and the two take a quiet stroll out with Ana, and Istvan gets to vent, tell his story. (His little audience is quite expressive too, he noted. Loose red strings of disbelief and high-pitched barking. Dramatic flailing of arms, a growl.)

In the end, they have to rest. Manole and Ana depart (with Manole insisting that they continue their little interactions and that Istvan finally comes to one of his showings, he swore he’d make it worthwhile - Ana agreeing in her little pip), and Istvan is home. A home of memories. Bad, good, but a place that made him nevertheless and he supposed... he should probably go to that therapist Manole recommended. He gave his word that she was fine; she had helped him back then, too, when things were dire.

Solange was her name. And oh, she was understanding - the best, at least for his circumstances. He revealed his feelings, and she helped him through most of it - enough that he was in better shape than before. Enough that he can lift his head high even with his impressive stature. But - he did ask, out of polite curiosity. What was it that made her want to be a therapist?

And it was an easy answer, the way she’d told it. A deadbeat father, a single mother with a cat and her father - her own grandfather. She had been... rebellious, in a sense, and she was a menace to her family. They had financial issues, relationship issues, the works. It was only until they’d discovered the (grand)father dead that things really started to change. Viva la insurance money, they were able to handle most of the debt and loans. She felt more inclined to... help, seeing as how badly-shapen her mother was, mourning and all. And during that - she realized it was something she wanted to pursue wholeheartedly.

Overall, they’re happy. Istvan and Manole eventually get together (after a long amount of time, only when Istvan was ready to open himself up again - easier, when he’d started acting as accompaniment as (a tech) crew and occasional musical act in the streets and they realized how well they clicked). Ana thrives (with a few other secret nicknames that the others gave to her; well. She doesn’t mind.) Solange occasionally helped out in using her artistic skills with some of the advertisements.

They’re all comfortable. They’re living.

That is all.

 SUMMARY:

・[Overall] The canon diverges with Istvan actually noticing and recognizing the missing dog poster Manole put up. Manole and Ana are reunited. Istvan eventually divorces his wife and gets therapy from Solange, and Istvan is later friends (or more than that, ah-heem) with Manole.

・[Manole] Acrobat for that dreamy circus, but with a dog.

・[Ana] Dog! Beloved! Living! Happy! SO Happy. Maybe gets to meet her old litter of siblings again.

・[Istvan] No more toxic wife that tries to control and restrain him with false affections and silly desires built on creating a dumb image! Musical fun time! Also lifts and flexes.

・[Solange] On good terms with mother now! Grandpa is deader than dead but it’s for the better, promise. Insurance money and her mother made her realize she’d wanted to be a therapist. Occasionally does art for Manole’s circus thing.

No I did not proofread this. I do not care. I have self love, and this is, in fact, indulgent.

#[ watched it a second time earlier ahehe ] #[ ''I bet there's an au about this!'' -> The fandom does not exist therefore no. The AU doesn't. ] #[ (hashes out a whole verse after the movie like clowns) :handshake: ] #mushrium

[a-hundred-jewels]

cruel summer ch 12: i have these lucid dreams

Ao3 Wattpad

Summary: sabrina starr, pegasuses, and oh no! the fourth wall broke! do we have a carpenter in the audience?

Word Count: 9000 ish

Tags: Rachel Elizabeth Dare/Jane Penderwick, Rosalind Penderwick/Tommy Geiger, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Jane Penderwick, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Rosalind Penderwick, Skye Penderwick, Chiron (Percy Jackson), Martin Penderwick, Elizabeth "Batty" Penderwick, Elizabeth Penderwick (senior), Iantha Aaronson-Penderwick, Ben Aaronson-Penderwick, Nico di Angelo, Will Solace, Annabeth Chase, Jeffrey Tifton-McGrath, Percy Jackson, Demeter (Percy Jackson), Apollo (Percy Jackson), Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Camp Half-Blood AU, Demigods, demeter!elizabeth penderwick, demeter!rosalind (second generation), demeter!batty (second generation), apollo!alec mcgrath, apollo!jeffrey (second generation), demeter!jane (second generation), demeter!skye (second generation), all of that's in no particular order, main focus is on jane because i love her and she's so so fun to write, tomsalind is there (and stuff will happen - i can't really say what, it will really be eventful though), yes of course there's solangelo, takes place right before Penderwicks In Spring, After Trials of Apollo, more tags to come??, Minor Swearing

Notes and Full Chapter below cut:

Hello everyone and welcome back! I'll admit, this is a little later today than I'd been planning to post (was hoping to get an early start), but hey! If the Puppet History season 4 finale can be late, then so can I!

First off, a massive massive thank you to waterbottle_stickers for being the best beta reader ever. This chapter would be a mess without you. Also, if you haven't already, please check out their enola holmes fic wherever you stray, i follow it's truly wonderful.

If you've been following me on tumblr, then you'll know that, in addition to reblogging an alarming quantity of good omens fanart, I've been making some plans for fics this month. The original plan from back in august was to post every day of the month, but... ahhh.... I just don't work that fast lmao. I'll have to be content with just posting a fair amount this month. Happy october! Anyway, stay tuned.

On this fine day, we've got two lovely QUEER fanfic recommendations that I'm very excited to share. Up first is one from the tumblr blog izzielizzie (which you should all absolutely check out! especially if you're into the one of us is lying fandom!). it centers around the skye/melissa pairing and their senior prom, which Skye is said to have only gone to last minute, and also wearing a lab coat, in a passage of the penderwicks at last. featuring some oblivious lesbians and also jane. once again a massive thanks to izzielizzie, as this fic is one of my favourites!. click here to take a look! (also keep an eye on her blog in general bc her penderwicks fics are awesome!)

The second fanfic is also one I'm very fond of, as it focuses on the siblinghood of skye and jane, which is one of my favourite topics on earth. check out rolling down the ancient high street by hanchewie/ramblemadlyon (tumblr and ao3 respectively) for the sibling antics of aroace skye and bisexual jane when the latter visits the former at her college in california! and, if you like it, ramblemadlyon has two other penderwicks fics from the past couple days that look fantastic as well, and that I look forward to reading.

This chapter is dedicated to my therapist, since I've decided this will be the month of oddly specific dedications. thank you for telling me to stop referring to cruel summer as my "trash baby" and help me recognize the true worth that it holds in my life.

Disclaimer: not my characters, you know the drill. Jeanne Birdsall and Rick Riordan are lucky ducks indeed. chapter title is (obviously) from "lucid dreams" by Juice WRLD.

FROM THE POV OF JANE PENDERWICK

The woods loomed around me, seeming as tall as buildings as they invited me in further. I took another step, the sharp pain of a pinecone digging into my foot barely registered in my mind. I kept walking. A crack sounded throughout the air, and, behind me, a tree splintered round its base and fell down, only inches away from crushing me dead, and completely blocking the path out.

Frightened, I began to run, looking for a way out of the forest. But no matter which way I went, there were only trees in front of me. Where was the path? Where was the grassy hill I had walked down to get in here in the first place. Had I even walked down that hill to begin with? Now that I thought about it, I wasn’t sure I remembered coming here. I wasn’t sure I remembered waking up this morning, or going to bed last night, or anything besides existing in the forest. Who was I? What was I doing here? How could I get out?

Panicking, I stood in the middle of a clearing, looking frantically at the trees around me, trying to find something familiar. Nothing. I was exhausted. How long had I been here? An hour? A day? A lifetime? I collapsed at the base of a tree, sobbing as I tried to remember. Something. Anything.

Then, a voice echoed around me. “Welcome,” it said, and my mind went black.

I bolt upright in bed, a scream halfway out of my throat. I clamp it back, not wanting to wake my cabinmates. Thin light whimpers through the window--enough for me to see my white-knuckle grip on the sheets, but not enough to pass as daylight.

What time is it?

Our cell phones don’t really work here--that was one of the first things Miranda told us when we arrived, and Batty’s been gleefully lording it over us that her Mp3 player will still play music and, like, function, while our smart phones recline sadly in our duffel bags. That being said, I don’t feel quite brave enough to get out of my bed just yet and tiptoe over to the big analog clock that Rio bought at a pawn shop in Colorado. Maybe my phone will at least show the time.

I reach under my bed and fumble for my duffel, hooking my pinky through the zipper loop and yanking it out onto my floor. My phone’s in the front pocket, buried under two pairs of headphones, several gum wrappers, and some strawberry leaves (?????). A piece of gum peels off the screen as I disentangle my phone, and I mentally chide my past self for being so messy.

My phone does not turn on. Big clock it is.

I tiptoe across the cold tile and peer around the tree.

5:45 .

Jesus Pagan Christ.

It’s too early to wake anyone up (as I think this, Batty lets out a snore to rival any crabby Tyrannosaurus Rex), so I wrap a blanket around myself like a criminally attractive burrito, and creep out onto the porch, with my notebook and pen tucked into my shirt.

As long as I live, I will never get tired of summer mornings. There’s something deeply lovely about the soft light of the still-sleepy, pink lemonade sun, the quiet anticipation of the cool air, damp from dew and preparing for the upcoming heat. At home in Cameron, Skye’s woken me up many an early morning to go for a run or do soccer drills or for a grueling “Seven Minute Workout Except You Don’t Follow The Rules And Torture Your Sister by Making It Actually A Forty-Nine Minute Workout.” (But it’s okay, I’m not bitter). But, as delightful as those experiences have all been, I don’t think Skye really gets it. The beauty of the summer morning is not what it can do for your workout schedule, but rather in its gentle softening of an otherwise boiling day. It is to be appreciated in the way that I am now, sitting curled up on this frighteningly creaky porch (I mean, seriously, who built this?) and calling up the Sabrina Starr section of my brain to try and write away the residual panic from my nightmare.

Sabrina sighed as the plane took off. She wasn’t sure if she should have followed the voice in her head telling her to come here. Saying it out loud--even just thinking it--made it sound ridiculous. A dream, a voice in her mind. Barely more than a whim.

Worse than that, Sabrina wasn’t even sure where this whim was taking her. On a napkin in her pocket, she’d scrawled everything she remembered about the dream from the night before. The dark sky, lit only with spiderwebs of lightning, the shadowy figure huddled on a beach and soaked through with rain. The voice crying for help.

And a name. Aeaea.

After she’d woken up, Sabrina had looked up Aeaea, too tired to fully connect why the name felt familiar. Her heart had sunk further after reading the Wikipedia entry, and a breath of hopelessness had left her lips. According to the internet, Aeaea was not a real place. It had been the island prison of Circe. Fiction wasn’t new to Sabrina, and neither was mythology (she recalled an adventure spent with a ghost called Rainbow from a few years back).

Fictional places, though, were another matter. How could she get somewhere if she didn’t know where she was going? Was she trusting her gut with too much this time?

Sabrina folded up the napkin and put it back in her pocket. There was no point in worrying about that now. She’d looked at enough maps to make a guess at where Aeaea might be if it was real. When she got there, she could get more information. Sabrina Starr had survived this long in her career of rescues and whims. She could survive one more adventure. Worst case scenario, she said to herself, I spend a few days running around for nothing and have to brush up on my Greek.

She repeated it to herself like a promise. Worst case scenario, worst case scenario… Eventually, tired out from all her anxieties, and from trying desperately not to worry about what would come next, Sabrina fell asleep.

FROM THE POV OF RACHEL ELIZABETH DARE

“Okay, I give up. Tell me what’s wrong.” Annabeth’s voice startles me away from my plate of eggs, which I had been pushing around with a fork. Anxiety bubbles in my throat, just as it had been since I woke up, and food just doesn’t sound like a good idea.

“I--what?”

Annabeth waves her hand impatiently. “Don’t play dumb. I’ve been talking to you for five minutes and I don’t think you’ve looked up once. Also you’re always hungry in the mornings, so unless you, like, ate an entire cow before I got here, this ,” she gestures to my uneaten eggs, “is unusual behaviour.”

I give her a look. Sometimes, I get the feeling that Annabeth exists as a part of multiple different dimensions at once, like she’s having four other conversations that I can’t hear, and is still ten steps ahead of me in the one I’m actually a part of.

Or maybe I’m just easy to read.

“Nothing’s wrong.” I don’t want to talk about it. “I’m fine.” I’m terrified.

Annabeth sighs. “Is this about the prophecy?”

“No,” I spear another piece of egg, and don’t eat it. “Maybe. Yes.” I feel like going back to my cave and staying there for the rest of my life. Waiting with a book and some paints for the prophecy to get bored and go away. Maybe I’d take Jane with me, or Nico, for some company. That sounds nice.

My plate is pulled away from me as I aim my fork again. “I can’t pay attention when you do that,” Annabeth huffs. I think I wouldn’t invite her to stay in my cave. She’s too on the nose when I want to mope. Then again, she says the same about me.

“Fine,” I turn and face her. “Let’s talk feelings.” Connor Stoll, who had been making his way towards our table, abruptly turns around and walks the other way. I should get Chiron to hire a therapist. Gods know we need it.

Further proving my point, Annabeth’s eyes widen a little, before she remembers it is I who will be spilling. (I make a point to corner her later. It’s a routine we have). “Wow. You broke fast.”

I nod. “I’m tired and you’re annoying.” (False. We both know it. Another routine). “Like you said, I’m nervous about the prophecy.”

Annabeth nods. “And?”

I frown. “What do you mean, and ? There’s no and.”

Annabeth frowns back at me. A mirror, a mime, an annoyance. The nerve to look disappointed in me. “I thought you were spilling, Red.”

I roll my head back and study the roof of the pavilion, which Annabeth designed, and slowly lean my head down to stare at the table. I really don’t want to have this conversation. I go along anyways. “I’m worried about Jane.”

Annabeth leans back, triumphant. “Ah, yes. Your girlfriend.”

Maybe if I try reeeeeeeally hard, I can activate the Oracle of Delphi and freak Annabeth out enough to make her go away. “ Not my girlfriend. You know that.”

“You called Percy my boyfriend for weeks before we actually officially decided.”

I wave my hand dissmissively. “That’s different, you guys were dancing around each other for like three years. You needed a bit of a push. Jane and I kissed once! Over a week ago! And nothing came of it.” We actually haven’t really talked about it. We’re in this sort of in-between zone where we spend a ton of time together, but don’t have a label for it. Honestly, it’s been nice.

Annabeth grins, apparently reading my thoughts. “You’ve been eating lunch with the Demeter cabin, like, every other day. I saw you doing archery together yesterday. Both of you were awful at it, but you stayed there for hours. I’ve never seen you focus on something that long outside of your paintings.”

I stare at the ceiling again. Maybe Annabeth designed it so that a single square foot of rock might fall down onto my head and relieve me from this conversation. “Yes, fine, we spend a lot of time together. But that doesn’t make us a couple, and has nothing to do with what I’m actually worried about!” I can see in her face that Annabeth is more serious now, and is about to fully listen to me, when Percy and Malcolm show up, sliding into the seats across from us, and clanging several plates of pancakes down onto the table in front of them.

“Made them ourselves! Wanna share?” Percy gives Annabeth heart eyes and a kiss on the cheek when she folds a large blue pancake into thirds and bites it like a burrito. I roll my eyes at them because they are a horrifying and disgusting couple and also I kind of want to be them when I grow up. Malcolm ignores them, instead turning to me. “Were you talking about Jane?” he asks, pushing wire rimmed glasses up his nose.

I frown. “Sort of. Why?”

He shrugs, sheepish. “You know. Just, uh, just wondering.”

I narrow my eyes at him, then Percy, who tears himself away from looking at Annabeth to sigh dramatically. “Malcolm wants to ask out Jane’s sister. You know, the blond one.”

I snort. “ Skye? Seriously?”

Malcolm looks vaguely offended. “What’s so weird about that?”

“Sorry, it’s not weird.” I reach over the table to pat him on the shoulder with my fork. “Perfectly normal teenage hormones.” He glares at me and I smile sweetly back. “I just can’t imagine Skye going out with anyone, that’s all.”

Malcolm stares down at his pancake, disappointed. “Oh. You sure?”

I nod, feeling a little more normal with my friends and less doom-related breakfast conversation. My eggs are past the threshold of “warm and appetizing” but I take a bite anyway. “Pretty sure. Jane told me that she’s aroace and, based on past occurrences, there’s a seventy percent chance she’ll punch anyone who asks her out. Anyway, why the interest? I didn’t know you guys talked.”

Malcolm shrugs. “We don’t, really. She just seems cool.”

Percy pipes in, “He’s been practically obsessed with her since she won that soccer game against the Nike kids and made them cry.”

I nod approvingly. “Well, Malcolm, at least we know you have good taste.”

Annabeth pats him on the head, ignoring his complaints that her hand is covered in blue maple syrup. “Better luck next time, brother of mine.”

Piper and Leo join us next, contributing an alarming volume of grapes and a single hardboiled egg to the breakfast display. Leo grabs a pancake and wraps it around some grapes, before taking a big bite. “I hear you’re discussing Malcolm’s romantic failures,” he says around the world’s worst breakfast burrito. Piper gasps in mock offense, then swallows the unpeeled hardboiled egg whole, like a snake. (This is a regular morning routine. She’s trying to work up to being a sword swallower, since her dad did it in a movie once and she thought it looked like fun). “ Malcolm, why didn’t you come to me? I could have given you a verdict within five minutes!”

“I wanted advice on whether I should ask out that Heaphestus boy two weeks ago and you told me to fuck off.”

Piper pouts at him. “That’s on you, you caught me at a bad time.”

Annabeth holds up a pancake with the air of a respected royal and we turn to her. “As delightful as this is, Rachel and I were initially talking about her romantic prospects and also her worries and fears, and I feel that we should get back to that before she slinks off and avoids the rest of the conversation.”

I glare at her. “Why would you bring this away from the very nice conversation we were having about everyone else’s problems? Do you hate me?” Annabeth rolls her eyes. “No, dumbass, I’m just not letting you walk away from a potential breakthrough. Now, where were we? You were saying that you’re worried about Jane but it has nothing whatsoever to do with your relationship, or lack thereof.”

I give a long suffering sigh, and try to communicate telepathically with Piper that she needs to Save Me Now, but she’s looking at me in interest with her chin resting in her hands, her long fingers adorned with rings sent to her from her Mortal girlfriend, Shel, who bought them at a vintage punk store. The traitor. Defeated, I turn back to Annabeth.

“It’s just that, whatever ends up happening with this prophecy, I don’t want it to fuck her up, in the way the quests have sometimes done to us. Like, we’re used to this by now, but it hasn’t been a smooth road. I don’t exactly like going on quests, and at first I was really worried at the prospect of being included in a prophecy, since that’s fairly abnormal, but Jane was only made aware of her heritage a couple months ago! What if this turns out like Silena or Beckendorf or-or Jason, and the prophecy destroys her, and it’s all my fault because I’m the one who pulled her into all this?”

Everyone tenses up at the mention of Jason, but they continue to look at me with a mixture of concern and love that makes something soften inside of me. For the hundredth time, I think of how lucky I am to have these people who love me unconditionally. Even if they really, really need therapy.

“I know that I didn’t plan any of this, but we’re both tied in now, especially since both Chiron and I had the prophetic dream and I actually gave the prophecy that day in the woods, and, well, this isn’t her world yet. She’s only got a little bit of ichor in her, and she grew up knowing nothing of any of this. In a way, I did too, and I have no ichor, but I had clear sight. For me, it was ineffable, but she could technically leave any time, if it weren’t for the prophecy. She can leave, and I feel like it’s up to me to make sure that doesn’t change.”

“Oh, Rachel.” Annabeth reaches her arms out to me and I let myself be pulled into an embrace. “Jane’s going to be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”

Sabrina stood in line at the boat rental hut, her arms crossed and a frown plastered on her face. It had not been a successful afternoon. For hours, she’d been searching the coastal towns near where her plane landed, looking for some trace of Aeaea, or anything else she’d seen in her dream. She was used to working with dregs. It was normal for her to have to squint a little at the evidence, have to shuffle things together around big holes of “Maybe,” like she was working a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing.

But this was something else.

Sabrina had read about places where mythology shaped the culture. Places where the tourist draws were events that had supposedly happened thousands of years ago, or creatures that only existed in grainy photographs and people’s imaginations. Hell, she’d met the Loch Ness monster. Was it insane for her to have assumed she’d be able to find the same kind of thing here? All her training and years of experience had told her that, if you sniff around long enough, you’ll find a conspiracy theorist or a slightly off-the-rails guidebook.

So far, though, Sabrina had found nothing. Absolutely nothing. She hunted around, searching up library catalogs, checking every store on the street. “Aeaea,” “Circe,” even “the Odyssey.”

Nothing.

The line edged along slowly, and Sabrina ran her hands up and down her arms. The air was chilly from its proximity to the cold sea water. There were three people in front of her now. She just had to wait a little longer, then she would have a boat and be able to explore these waters herself.

Something was wrong with this place. Something was wrong with all of these places. And Sabrina was going to figure out what.

Later, Jane and I are taking our time walking to the pegasus stables to watch the riding lesson that Rosalind has reluctantly agreed to let Batty take (provided that Percy, who’s teaching today, doesn’t let her fly high enough that she’ll die if she falls off, and that Batty wears all of the necessary protective gear). Jane looks lovely, wearing a sunshine-y yellow bandana that sets off her dark curls and warm sepia skin. She has on her Camp Half-Blood shirt again, and a short green skirt, and all of it should clash horribly, but it doesn’t.

We’ve decided to cut through the strawberry fields, and I swallow a sun-warmed strawberry while Jane tells me about the dream she had last night. I think back to my conversation with Annabeth this morning when she tells me of the dark woods and the feeling of drowning, the memory warping and the echoing voice. At some point we sit down in a patch of grass, a simple circle amidst strawberry plants with a couple logs where the campers and satyrs take their breaks when they work here. Jane finishes her story and we sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, only broken by the grunts of annoyance Jane makes while trying to get her plant powers to activate again. She’s been doing that a lot.

“Well that sucks,” I say finally. “Have you been having other dreams like it?”

Jane shrugs, the neon orange fabric of her shirt wrinkling on her shoulders. “One or two, I think. Last night’s was the first one I really remembered. ” She smiles out of the corner of her mouth. “I hardly ever remember my dreams. It used to upset me. I thought I was losing potential writing material.”

I laugh. It’s such a Jane thing to think, that I can’t help it. She goes quiet, like she’s reminiscing, and I picture a tiny version of Jane, sitting crossed-legged on her summer quilt, writing. I look at her now, scrunched up nose and big brown eyes. Oh gods, she must have been an adorable child.

“My mother used to say that my imagination was the eighth wonder of the world,” Jane says. She’s looking down the hill at the cabins, plant powers temporarily forgotten, and I remember her telling me about her mother, the first Elizabeth Penderwick, who came here and was a daughter of Demeter and loved opera. The Penderwick siblings’ beloved mother who died so young.

I move closer to Jane on the log. “I can understand why she’d say that.”

Jane smiles again, a little sad this time, a little absent, but full to the brim with love.

“Bet you she’s in Elysium,” I say softly. I explained the Underworld to Jane a couple weeks ago, and she’d gotten this same absent look on her face, that I now know means she’s thinking about her mother. Jane nods, now, then turns to me. “Could we talk about something else?” Her voice is quiet, her eyes a little shiny.

“Course,” I say. “Shall I regale you with tales of dimwittery at this camp in the years past?” I told her last week about the time some Hermes kids tried to order pizza to the camp, accidently causing Chiron to think we were under attack. Jane had nearly fallen off the bench laughing.

She grins now, but shakes her head. “Tell me what it’s like being an Oracle.” I give her a look. She’s asked me before and I never really know what to say. When I give prophecies, it’s like I black out. I’m taken over by another entity who shares my body. (“Like that lady in Suicide Squad ,” Leo had said when I tried to explain it to him once, but I’d refused to be compared to such a gods-fucking-awful movie). So, in a way, I don’t know what it’s like to be the Oracle.

As if reading my thoughts, Jane shakes her head. “Not that part. I’ve seen you all green and smokey, and I know you can’t feel it. I mean the other stuff. How did you know it was you? What did you have to do to become the Oracle? That kind of thing.” I relax a little. Jane’s asked me all sorts of weird questions about Greek mythology and the gods recently. She calls it “research for her book,” but sometimes I think she’s just nosy. It’s cute.

Jane shrugs and looks off into the distance. If you tilt your head a little you can kind of see the stables from here. We have fifteen more minutes to get there, according to my watch. I decide to take it easy. “Delphi is this weird ethereal spirit,” Jane continues, “but there’s also just everyday, Oracle you, who likes paint and denim and bagels.” At that, I laugh. “I actually don’t like bagels that much. I’m just late to breakfast so often that they’re usually the only things available.”

Jane pouts at me and plays with the bracelet tied around my wrist--the one she gave me. “You know what I mean! You know all this weird shit about me because my siblings don’t shut up at lunch, and I know stuff about you, like the denim thing, which I still think is funny by the way. But you’re also the freaking Oracle! Your dormant self lies waiting!” I laugh at her, and she rolls her eyes, but I see the corner of her mouth tilting up. “Rachel, that’s very cool!”

I give in. “Honestly, there’s not much to say, that’s why I don’t talk about it.” I pause. “Well no, it’s that a lot of the stuff beyond the obvious is actually sort of creepy and weird, and not in a good way. There’s stuff I try not to think about, is what I mean.”

The edge of her yellow bandana sticks up as Jane tilts her head at me. “That makes sense. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I shake my head. “No, it feels okay right now.” I mean it. Now that I’ve gotten into the swing of it, I do want to talk about it. Still, a small sigh escapes me. “I like being the Oracle, because that’s what brought me to a place where I feel like I belong and I have people who love me. It’s nice to know that I’m fulfilling my purpose in life.”

Jane pulls her knees up to her chest. “But?”

“But I also get lonely.” It comes out in a rush. “There are other oracles, but I didn’t know about any of them until the Apollo thing happened, and even then, they’re all supernatural beings--I know, I know, but not in the way I am. It’s not the same. Also, there are all these weird rules. Like I have to stay an unmarried virgin my whole life.”

“That’s fucked,” Jane says softly.

“I know! Chiron won’t even tell me why, just that it’s ‘the rules’” I let out an annoyed huff. “And, like, it’s not even that the idea itself bothers me. That’s pretty much what I was planning to do with my life anyway.”

“Same.”

“But it’s the principle of the thing!” I flick a strand of hair out of my face, offhandedly noticing that the tip of my pinky finger is slightly green. I ignore it. It’s not important. “Just because I don’t want to have sex or get married doesn’t mean it’s a fair rule to impose on me! Besides, why is it always the women in these things whose identities are tied up in who they do or don’t fuck? Last I checked, Grover didn’t have to sign an ‘I shalt not fornicate’ contract when he became Lord of the Wild!”

“Exactly!” Jane raises her hands and shouts up to the sky. “Don’t you fuckers realize we’re more than that?”

“The Hunters of Artemis, too!” I’m a jack-in-the-box, and something’s winding me up. “Thalia and Reyna send me letters all the time, and they seem really happy! Which is great!” I pause to emphasize the greatness of their happiness. My pinky is completely green, now. “But, they also had to make a stupid ‘ode of chastity,’ like I did!”

“Are you kidding me?” Jane’s hair flips as she turns to me. “I thought Artemis was one of the good ones!”

My voice lowers to a husky rumble, and I stare into the distance towards you, the reader. “In a broken system, there are no good ones. Abolish the police.” I clear my throat and my voice turns back to normal. “Sorry, zoned out for a second.” My green pinky has begun to vibrate.

“Happens to the best of us,” Jane’s voice is light and nonchalant. “And yeah, I know. Pretty much all of the gods have skeletons sitting on their shoulders, but it just seems out of character for her. I thought all of Artemis’s groups were supposed to be safe havens, not oppressive structures in their own right.”

I frown. “Yeah you’re right, that is weird. I’d never thought of it much beyond the gods having weird rules, but I wonder if something bigger is at play. The gods might be fucked up in the way that regular people are, and are undoubtedly responsible for all sorts of crap. But then there's more personal things, like the ‘chastity vows’ the Hunters and I had to take, and the fact that Nico was initially outed by Eros, and the weird unexplained eye condition that Piper had during some of her quests that made her eyes a bunch of bright, Eurocentric colors, rather than their natural brown. All sorts of other stuff, too.”

“Wow!” Jane says, sitting up straight on the grass. Her hand moves from where it was resting in her lap to cover her heart. “It’s almost like a bunch of genuinely good and inspiring material, such as including prominent queer people and characters of color in fun children’s fantasy, as well as having an immortal group of warrior women who support each other and are free from the gaze of men, was taken into the hands of a cis white man armed with unchecked misogyny and a fair amount of white Twitter feminism, both of which really showed when he tried to create an inclusive and empowering book series for children! Like yeah, it had its moments, and definitely some good characters, but overall, a lack of meaningful research in certain areas really made it fall flat!” Once again, I stare through the bindings of URLs and internet coding, now joined by Jane as we lock eyes with you, the reader. This time, we hold eye contact for nearly a minute, giving you time to read and process the long tangent spat out by this fanfic’s author, who, if we’re being honest, has gone just a tad off the rails right now. Finally, Jane and I look away from you, and resume our roles as fictional characters, still shaking off that strange cloud that comes with staring into the soul of those who give you life.

“Ugh, what’s going on with me today?” Jane groans at the same time I mutter, “What’s Twitter?” We turn to each other, blinking in the sunlight, then grin. This is normal. We’re fine. Jane looks up at the sky again. “I wonder if the gods are watching us. Maybe we should make them think we suck so they’ll leave you alone.”

I laugh as she sticks her tongue out, grinning wickedly at a nearby cloud. “Better yet, make them think we’re too powerful to be messed with,” I say. Jane sees me watching her and opens her mouth, sucking the cloud in between her teeth. The sky seems bluer in the space where it had been, and Jane’s eyes glitter with mirth as she swallows. “Mmm, tastes like sugar.” I giggle, feeling a small shiver on the top of my head. When I peer up, I see another cloud has floated over to me. I open my own mouth, and take it in, just as Jane did hers. “Sugar, yes. But there’s a touch of blood, too,” I say. Jane nods sagely. “What were we talking about?”

“The inherent misogyny in much of Greek mythology and the world of Camp Half-Blood in general.”

Jane nods again. “Right. A very important topic. It makes it weird when I’m writing sometimes. You know, cause I want to bring in Circe and Zeus and Apollo and all these fascinating characters, but there’s just so much bad stuff tied up with them that comes up when I research.” She looks down at our feet, which are standing in the midst of a strawberry patch. We seem to have been walking, crushing sweet summer strawberries as we go, which is odd because I don’t remember getting up. “You know Rachel, I’m feeling a bit strange.”

I look at her, and see an odd blankness in her warm brown eyes. “Now that you mention it, Jane, so am I.”

“My thoughts and words are my own,” Jane says, “But there’s something up with my body. I can’t really feel it.”

“I agree, I’ve honestly gone a bit numb.” I try to glance down at my fingers, wondering idly if they’ve gotten any more green, but find that my neck won’t bend.

Jane’s eyebrows furrow. “Yet, at the same time, I feel as though I could do anything. Grow another grass blade. Grow a flower. Grow a tree. Bend the world to my will if I wanted to.”

“Or is it the world bending me to its will.” I grin at my own philosophical point, but find that the smile won’t go away. Pretty fucking inconvenient, since the next thing I was going to bring up was part of the whole serious misogyny conversation. I decide to go for it anyway. “And I’m not the only one with weird rules!” Jane nods, as if this is a perfectly normal segway, and the only extraneous thought that floats through my mind as we find ourselves walking down a hill is how unfair it is that she still has control over her neck and I don’t. “Remember when I told you about the Hunters of Artemis?”

“Oh yeah! Your friends Reyna and Thalia, right?”

“Yeah, them! They send me letters sometimes, and seem really happy, which is great.” I pause, meaning to add emphasis, when I’m hit with a great sensation of deja-vu. “Wait a second, we already talked about this, didn’t we?” I try to remember, but something in my mind is rapidly melting. I cannot find it. I cannot find anything.

“Jane?” My voice quivers, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Oh gods, please let this be a dream. For a moment, I try to convince myself that it’s the Oracle of Delphi taking over, just like she did the other day and generally does a couple times a year. But I know that I’m lying. This is not what that feels like. “Jane, where are you?” I can barely move my mouth to say the words. I can feel nothing but the frozen fear of paralysis, of lost control. When I open my eyes, this other thing in my body has brought me to the edge of the forest. “Jane? Jane?” She could be right beside me, unable to speak, and I wouldn’t know because I can’t turn my head, can’t move my eyes, can barely even hear right now.

It’s okay, something says.

“Jane?” It’s not her voice. It’s no one’s voice.

It’s okay. You’re home.

With every cut the wooden oars made through the choppy ocean water, Sabrina knew she was getting closer. She could feel it in her bones, in her brain, a little voice that whispered in her ear. It had been three hours. Her body was worn down, energy levels dipping dangerously low, when she felt something scrape the bottom of her boat.

A rock.

Frantically, she peered through the fog that had begun to surround her boat a mile ago. The island. Had she finally made it?

As if answering her call, a peel of thunder rang out, and Sabrina’s boat began to fill with rain that pounded down from the sky. The storm from her dream. She rowed even faster, then, fear sparking a renewed strength in her tired muscles.

Just as Sabrina was about to reach the shore, a massive wave crashed over her, and her boat capsized. She came back up, sputtering, holding her sopping wet bag above her head. Another wave swept against Sabrina’s face, and she found herself spitting out a mouthful of saltwater. Finally, she washed up on the shore, heaving breaths raking through her lungs.

Sabrina blinked, pushing herself up onto her elbows. It was real. She was here.

She had made it.

FROM THE POV OF ROSALIND PENDERWICK

It’s been a pleasant day so far. Breakfast with my siblings and some of the Demeter cabin (though Jane did seem a bit absent-minded). Miranda, Florien, and Rio convinced me to practice some plant magic with them for a couple hours and I built up to growing a small sunflower. Lunch (again with Jane seeming distracted, though Rachel ate with us this time, which appeared to help). Then, Skye and Jeffrey disappeared with some of the older campers (supposedly for a regular game of soccer, but the unsettling gleam in their eyes had me doubting that was all there was too it), Jane and Rachel went to take a walk in the strawberry fields, and Batty and I were left to prepare for a pegasus riding lesson. If it had been up to Batty, the latter could have easily taken up the entire afternoon, but changing into durable pants and finding a bandana can only take so long.

After a somewhat restless hour, during which I grew three peonies and Batty rhapsodized about the stable of unicorns that another demigod camp apparently has, Batty and I arrive at the stable. We’re ten minutes early, and she’s been talking a mile a minute the whole time, not stopping from before. I swear I now know as much about pegasuses as she does. According to Rachel, the teacher today is Percy, her friend, who’s very responsible “when he puts his mind to it.” I wasn’t sure how to tell her that’s actually not very comforting, but Batty looked so excited and I figured there will be plenty of other people there, so. Why not. She’s been spending so much time there anyway.

Needless to say, I very much regret my decision now.

The stables are modest, made of wood and painted green, and I’ve been there several times by now. There’s a long line of stalls visible when we first walk in, but Batty skips straight to the far end, where a massive pegasus the color of a carrot pokes its head over the door and nuzzles Batty’s hair. She looks up at me with a smile that could melt anyone’s heart, and pats the horse on the nose. “Rosy, this is Queen Lotus Flower. Percy said we have a impenetrable bond.”

I look at the two of them with a questioning gaze. How can they both have the exact same puppy-dog eyes? I swear to god. The gods. All of them. “Batty, sweetheart. That horse is like ten feet tall.”

She nods enthusiastically. “I know, she’s so much taller than any other horse I’ve seen. Percy says she has the biggest wingspan of any horse at camp.”

I nod, slowly, wondering why my sister picked the biggest pegasus to fall in love with. At that moment, Percy pushes the door open. “Hey Batty! Ready for your lesson?” Batty leaves her post by Queen Lotus Flower to wrap her arms around my waist and nod. I look Percy over. He’s a few inches taller than me, with brown skin and curly hair. A beaded camp necklace, orange tshirt, and jeans. Weird arm tattoo aside, he’s one of the most normal-looking people at camp. I’ve only met him a couple times before, but, my nerves over Batty flying around on massive horses aside, I do trust him. Rachel seems to have a good taste in friends. Also, Batty likes him, and she’s still shy around a good number of Skye and Jane’s friends back in Cameron.

For the next few minutes, I watch as Percy instructs Batty on buckling Queen Lotus Flower’s giant saddle and looping the bridle over her nose. Not wavering a bit from the “lesson” aspect of all this, he steps back to let her show what she’s already learned from hanging around the stables so often, only stooping in to guide her when she gets confused. As the minutes tick by, more people show up for the lesson: three other students, and a good sized crowd of people who just like watching the pegasuses. By then, I’m seated on the grass outside the stables, soaking in the blistering sun and watching as Percy (seated atop a wiry black pegasus who Batty pointed out as Blackjack) darts around the large dusty enclosure, making final preparations for the lesson.

Skye and Jeffrey show up then, and sit on either side of me. I want to ask them where Jane and Rachel are, but they’re talking non-stop about a game they just played in the woods with some of the other campers, only switching the subject when Percy and Blackjack return and they begin discussing whether or not it should be scientifically possible for a horse to fly.

Just as Batty and Queen Lotus Flower begin a gentle trot around the enclosure, I feel a tap on my shoulder, and hear the familiar sound of Tommy’s chuckle. “She’s got a weird knack for that,” he says. I nod, grinning.

It’s been good with us. We’ve had breakfast together a few times, even played a game of basketball one afternoon. Our conversations aren’t the same as they used to be, and there’s a sense of newness that feels cold and strange every so often. But it’s good. It feels right. At least for now, this feels like where we’re supposed to be.

As Percy starts demonstrating how to take flight, I look around again. Jane and Rachel still aren’t here. They promised to come. (“For moral support!” Jane had said. “Wouldn’t miss it,” Rachel had added with a smile). I try to push it out of my head. This lesson is a big deal. Batty’s going to be flying.

She leans forward on Queen Lotus Flower’s neck.

They begin to run, moving together like a single being.

Just as they burst into the air, Batty’s euphoric smile lighting up the sky, Katie grabs my shoulders from behind. I shush her so I can lean forward and watch Batty silhouetted against the pegasus’s wide orange wings.

“Rosalind. Rosalind, guys. ” Something about the panic in Katie’s voice makes me turn around. Her usually tied back hair is loose and her clothes rumpled, giving the impression that she was dragged out of bed for this. (Some part of my brain distantly remembers her saying she was going to take a nap). Skye and Jeffrey turn around, too.

“What, what’s happening?” I reach out my hands, trying to calm her as she collapses into a squat, breathing heavily.

“Billie… found me in the cabin… had been looking for you guys… been running all over the camp… lucky I remembered about the riding lesson…”

Jeffrey leans over and puts his hands on her shoulders. She stares down at the dirt while her breathing levels.

“Katie, what are you saying? Why were you and Billie looking for us?”

She looks up, and I see that her forehead is drawn into well-worn creases of worry. “Jane and Rachel have gone into the woods.”

Something was wrong. Sabrina crouched on the wet sand, straining to see through the heavy rain. In her dream there had definitely been someone else on the island. She remembered the hunched figure, the sound of sobs leaking through the rain.

But she’d circled the shore at least twice by now, and there was nobody to be found. “Am I late or something?” she wondered aloud. Somehow, she’d gotten that dream It felt like it had been sent to her. Why did it show a person when there was no one?

Sabrina sighed and began to traipse inland, tucking a knife in her pocket. It wasn’t a big island, and she might as well find some shelter aside from her boat, which was now overturned somewhere on the beach. Circe lived here, didn’t she? There must be some sort of roof, especially if this kind of weather was standard.

Or maybe this was just a random island and there was no Aeaea and Sabrina’s dream had just been the unhinged work of her unconscious mind.

There was a small grassy hill set aside from the sand, which Sabrina crawled up with the determination of a dying warrior. Something was pushing her back. An invisible force, a last crumb of survival instinct, plain old fatigue, she wasn’t sure. But something wanted her out of here, and it pushed back harder and harder as she climbed.

She let out a cry of frustration, clawing at the ground, at the air, at whatever this goddamn thing was, and found a renewed burst of strength that pulled her to the top of the hill. Once there, the force that pushed back ebbed a little, like it was giving up. Sabrina let herself relax, and simply took in the view for a moment.

The hill she lay on top of gave way to a deep valley, sprawling and green. In one corner, there was a cluster of trees that looked healthy and comfortable, despite being on a random Greek island in the middle of the ocean. A modest garden lay next to it, somehow appearing unaffected by the rain, and a narrow river wound around the whole scene.

There was also a house.

Sabrina wasn’t sure what she might have expected from the lair of an infamous Greek enchantress, but it wasn’t this.

She hauled herself up on the hill and started down, rushing through the rain onto a wide wooden porch. There was a large stone vat of something dark and crumbly, with a heavy looking staff of sorts leaning against it. The door to the house was short, and Sabrina heard it scrape on the floor when she pushed it open.

The scene awaiting her was surprisingly cozy when she stepped inside. There was a fire in the hearth and rows upon rows of little viles arranged on a set of shelves beside it. A broom leaned against the wall. Sabrina looked around, noting the way that the rain didn’t make any sound as it thrashed against the roof and window, and the almost drug-like stupor that threatened to take over her brain, whispering that everything was fine, she was safe, nothing bad could happen to her.

Sabrina had encountered hypnosis before, and it only ever made her more jittery.

There was an open hatch in the floor with stairs that lead into darkness. She followed them down, feeling the air grow cooler with every step. Sabrina was quiet, taking tiny steps on her toes, and wincing when one of the stairs creaked. She didn’t know what was down there, and she didn’t want to find out the hard way. But there were no arrows flying up from the space below, no sounds of footsteps or slashes of swords.

Sabrina stepped onto a dirt floor and let herself exhale, shuffling along until her toe hit something hard. Only seasoned reflexes made her reach for the knife in her pocket instead of crying out in fear. She knelt down and squinted in the darkness, trying to see what she’d hit.

A leg.

She frowned, shaking it until she heard a low growl. “Stop that.” She stopped.

“Who are you?” Sabrina leaned closer. If they hadn’t killed her yet she was probably safe.

Instead of answering, they reached out a hand. Sabrina could see a gold ring on the thumb that glinted in a little sliver of light that had crept down from the room above. “Pull me up,” the figure said. “I’ve been paralyzed by the witch.”

Helping the stranger sit turned out to be no simple feat. They were tall and muscular, wearing a cape and a heavy metal chest plate. “The witch?” she questioned, propping them up against one of the cellar’s dirt walls. Her eyes were beginning to adust to the dark, and she could just make out their sharp chin sticking out as their head lolled back.

The figure made a noise. “The witch, the sorceress, the woman. Whatever you want to call her. I figure she sent you down too?” They snorted. “Good luck. I told Zeus not to sent mortals, but does he ever listen? You’re gonna die.”

Sabrina tried to piece together what she could from all this. The witch must be Circe, unless she’d wound up on an entirely different island. And if Circe was going around paralyzing people, then something must be going on. She must be hiding something. As for the person in front of her, Sabrina wasn’t sure who they were. By the way they talked about Zeus, and casually said “mortals,” she’d guess some sort of god? As if that narrowed it down. She’d have to be careful.

“Why did she paralyze you?”

Another weird gutteral noise. “She didn’t like my offer. It’s not the first time this has happened.”

She was growing impatient. Why’d he have to be so vague? “What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why he always sends me. I don’t think he trusts me. He’d rather me stay her paralysed in the basement of a witch than come back home.”

Sabrina let out an exasperated sigh. This wasn’t working and she needed answers. A whole coast of people with mythology-shaped holes in their memories awaited her. “You’re going to need to be a little more specific. I don’t think we’re on the same page.”

The figure sounded confused. “What do you mean? Don’t you know who I am?”

She leaned forward and inspected them in the darkness. “No. No I don’t.”

They slid their eyes down to her face. “I am the god Apollo. I came here for Circe and she did this to me.”

“What? Why?”

The stairs creaked behind Sabrina and she felt a long nail drag up her back. “I just want to be left alone,” said a voice as deep and powerful as the smell of red wine. “You don’t mind, do you?” Before Sabrina could grab her knife and turn around, before she could even scream, strong arms had surrounded her shoulders and a hand was clamping a damp cloth over her nose and mouth. Shock made her breath in, sharply, and she smelled the sweetness of sleeping drugs.

A heartbeat, a brief struggle, and Sabrina Starr was gone.

#cruel summer fic #cameron writes #the penderwicks #penderwicks #camp half blood #camp half-blood #rachel elizabeth dare #jane penderwick #rosalind penderwick