lovetheworld-harrypottergirl

[lovetheworld-harrypottergirl]

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

What do you mean Newt was trying to say "Tommy, I love you," but just managed to say "Tommy" WHICH BECAME HIS LAST WORD

[lovetheworld-harrypottergirl]

Y'all, this is too good😂

I've recently started rewatching Teen Wolf for the (idk what number I'm on) time and one ep 3 my younger brother (15) sat down and was just on his phone listening. By ep 5, his phone was off and he was actually watching and by ep 7, he had nicknames for a lot of characters ( Daddy Derek, Mommy McCall, Gay Boi Danny, etc). We started season two today and in the scene where Lydia was in the shower pulling the hair from the drain he started gagging because he thought it was disgusting and after we started laughing about it. I started an episode while he was in the bathroom and when he was done he heard the TV, causing him to shout ' I swear if you started an episode without!!!' Safe to say he enjoys it and I finally have a show with him I can watch😂

[lovetheworld-harrypottergirl]

I love this so much 😭😭😭

MY BEST FRIEND — s. stilinksi

“ youre my best friend and i love you “

pairing: stiles stilinski x gn! reader

!!! warnings: death threat, panic attack

word count: 2,311

     I CROSSED my arms over my chest securely as i walked, i was wearing one of stiles’s old sweatshirts that i had taken from him during a past sleepover during one of the chillier months. sleepovers used to be an often thing that the two of us did, having been best friends for so long, but they suddenly seemed to fade out of our schedule as lydia martin, a girl who had captured my best friends heart in the third grade, started actually acknowledging his presence. to be fair, lydia has no choice as stiles was one of the few people who knew about the supernatural world, a world that she was now part of while stiles and i remained the two humans in our friend group. 

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[lovetheworld-harrypottergirl]

Scandal in B.H.M.H. (Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital)

Request (Anonymous) : could write a Teen Wolf story of what it would be like if they all were Dr's and Yn and Stiles were apart of a scandal because they hooked up and slept together after a shift in the employee locker room and one of the residents found out and tried to blackmail them, but their fellow Dr's and friends(Scott, Lydia, Malia, Liam, Theo, Hayden, Mason, Corey, Kira, Allison) step in and are all like " if you report them, then you'll have to report all of us too because we've all hooked up in the locker room at one point, so go ahead because we don't think you will" but they were just bluffing to scare the resident and they end up transferring leaving the Pack alone? please and thanks!! (i love your writing btw💙)

Author's Note : Awww!🤍🤍🤍 This request meant a lot to me and I was so excited writing it for you. I hope you enjoy it you lovely work of art!!!🥰😆

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Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital was renowned for its exceptional medical staff, state-of-the-art facilities, and a tight-knit team of doctors who were more like family than colleagues. Among these doctors were Dr. Y/N Hale, Head or Cardiology, and Dr. Stiles Stilinski, Head of Oncology, whose relationship was a secret passion hidden beneath their professional demeanor. Late one night, after a grueling double shift, Y/N and Stiles found themselves alone in the employee locker room. The adrenaline of the day’s surgeries and emergencies had morphed into a palpable tension between them. Stiles glanced over at her, his gaze never leaving her frame as he took off his coat, leaning against a locker.

“ You were incredible today."

Y/N replied with a teasing smile, letting her wavy hair out of her ponytail, running her fingers through it.

“ You weren’t so bad yourself."

Stiles chuckled, shaking his head.

" I'm serious, it was pretty awesome the way you stepped in at the last second when that kid came in who accidentally swallowed a needle that was moving towards his heart, you just cut him open then and there and pulled the thing right from his artery."

" Well I couldn't just sit aside and watch that poor resident kill him, it wouldn't have been right…"

Y/N closed her locker, looking up, only now suddenly aware of the little space that was between her and the guy practically towering over her. Her breath caught, her hands at her sides as Stiles leaned in, his arm above her head as he looked down at her. His other hand reached up to her cheek, his thumb running over her bottom lip.

" Dr Stilinski-"

" Sh… Don't talk…

Before either one knew it, they were kissing, their exhaustion forgotten in the heat of the moment. They undressed each other hastily, discarding their clothes on the locker room floor and succumbing to the long-suppressed desire. The locker room echoed with the sounds of their passion, only further driving their desire. Unbeknownst to them, Ryan Jameson, a resident known for his ambition and lack of scruples, walked past the locker room. He paused, hearing something unusual, and decided to investigate, catching sight of Y/N and Stiles in a compromising position, a sinister smile crept across his face.

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The next day, Jameson cornered Y/N in the break room, a smug look on his face as he spoke, his voice dripping with feigned politeness.

“ Dr. Hale, could I have a word?”

Y/N replied, trying to hide her discomfort.

“ What is it, Jameson?”

He lowered his voice, leaning in closer to her, his words making her heart skip a beat.

“ I know about you and Dr. Stilinski; last night, in the locker room.”

She pulled back, taking a step back as she looked at him, a mixture of dread and anger, causing Jameson to smirk wickedly.

" What do you want?”

" Simple. You help me get on Dr. Argent’s good side: fast track me into the surgeries that matter, or I report this to the board.”

Y/N’s mind raced.

“ You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am."

He gave her a sly grin before turning around and walking off, calling over his shoulder.

" Think about it, Dr. Hale.”

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Y/N immediately sought out Stiles, finding a quiet corner in the cafeteria to talk.

“ Stiles, we have a problem.”

She spoke, her voice trembling, Stiles responding with worry and concern evident in his voice and features.

“ What is it?”

“ James knows about us. He saw us in the locker room last night, he’s threatening to report us unless I help him get ahead.”

Stiles’ eyes narrowed.

“ That little… We need to tell the others.”

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That evening, Y/N and Stiles gathered their closest friends and colleagues: Scott McCall : Head of Coronary Care, Lydia Martin : Head of Hematology, Malia Hale : Head of Orthopedica, Liam Dunbar : Head of Critical Care, Theo Raeken : Head of Radiology, Hayden Romero : Head of Ophthalmology, Mason Hewitt : Head of Microbiology, Corey Bryant : Head of Nephrology, Kira Yukimura : Rheumatology, and Allison Argent : Head of Patient Services. They explained the situation, and their friends listened intently.

“ This guy is trying to blackmail you?”

Y/N nodded, her head down and shoulders slumped, the stress of the situation getting to her

“ Yes, and we don’t know what to do.”

She leaned against her knees, pushing her hair away from her face, Stiles walking up behind her and putting his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them in an attempt to alleviate some of her stress. Lydia smacked her hand on the table, knocking a empty plastic vase over, speaking enraged and firmly.

“ We can’t let him get away with this. He’s only doing this because he thinks he has power over you.”

“What if we take that power away?”

Everyone turned to look at Theo, a sly grin spreading across his face.

" What?"

“ We bluff ; If he thinks reporting you means reporting half the Heads in the hospital, he won’t go through with it.”

“ Are you sure?”

Stiles asked skeptical, his hands pausing their rubbing.

“ It's worth a shot."

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The next day, Jameson was surprised to find himself confronted by the group in the residents' lounge, Scott leaning against the table he was sat at, towering over him.

“ Jameson! Just the resident I wanted to talk to."

" Dr McCall, what- what can I do for you?"

" We hear you've got some interesting information about our friends Y/N and Stiles.”

Jameson crossed his arms, trying to appear confident.

“ That's right. And- And unless you want me to take it to the board, you'll do as I say.”

Scott exchanged a look with Lydia, who nodded imperceptibly.

“ Funny thing, Jameson. If you report them, you'll have to report all of us too.”

Jamesons' smirk faltered.

“ What are you talking about?”

“ We’ve all hooked up in the locker room at one point.”

Lydia spoke, her voice cool and matter-of-fact, confident as ever.

“ So go ahead, report them. But know that you'll be reporting every single one of us.”

James looked around the group, seeing nothing but steely determination.

“ You're bluffing.”

Theo spoke next, his voice cold as he addressed the resident, stepping closer.

“ Are we? Because if you think for a second that we'll let you blackmail our friends, you've got another thing coming.”

Jamesons' confidence wavered. He glanced around the room, seeing no signs of weakness.

“ You can't all be serious.”

“ Oh, we're serious. Deadly.”

Malia spoke, her tone dangerous.

“ We'll start with Scott and Allison, caught them making out in the locker room after a particularly stressful night shift."

" Or Scott and Kira, that time when they thought everyone had left. But nope, caught red-handed."

" And let's not forget me and Dr Derek Hale."

Lydia continued, her tone icy.

" Not that anyone could, given how loud he can get.”

Jameson hesitated, realizing the precariousness of his position.

“ You’re all lying.”

“Try us. Let’s see how far you get.”

Jameson, knowing he was outmatched, decided to back down.

“ Fine. I’ll drop it. But this isn’t over.”

“ Actually, it is."

Lydia spoke, smirking innocently, looking over at Allison as she began.

“ We’ve already spoken to my father about your… ambitions. You’re being transferred to another hospital. Effective immediately.”

Jamesons' face drained of color.

“ You can’t do that.”

“ We just did."

Allison spoke, her voice icy.

“ Now get out.”

When Jameson left, the group breathed a collective sigh of relief, Y/N sitting down as the tension left her body.

“ That was close."

Stiles agreed, wrapping an arm around her.

“ Too close… Thank you, all of you.”

Scott smiled, seeing how comfortable Y/N looked under Stiles' touch.

“ That’s what family is for, we look out for each other.”

“ And besides, what’s a little scandal among friends?”

The group laughed softly.

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The weeks that followed were peaceful, the shadow of Jamesons' threat no longer looming over them. Y/N and Stiles' relationship, now out in the open among their friends, flourished without the need for secrecy. One evening, as they sat in the break room together, Y/N turned to Stiles, a soft smile on her lips.

“ I can’t believe we got through that.”

“ Me neither. But we did together."

Stiles smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“ And we have the best friends in the world."

Y/N said softly, looking around at their colleagues, who were laughing and chatting nearby. Stiles nodded.

“ That we do. That we do…”

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As time went on, Beacon Hills Memorial continued to be a place of healing and hope, not just for its patients, but for its staff as well. The bonds between the doctors grew stronger, and the sense of family deepened. Y/N and Stiles' story became a symbol of resilience and unity, a reminder that even in the face of scandal and adversity, love and friendship could prevail. And as they worked side by side, saving lives and supporting each other, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, with the strength of their family by their side.

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Thank you so much for reading and I hope all of you who made it this far have a wonderful day! Until next story my lovelies!!!🤍🥰

[lovetheworld-harrypottergirl]

It's my 3 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

[lovetheworld-harrypottergirl]

💐 once you receive this lovely bouquet of flowers you have to mention five things you love, publicly, and send it to 10 of your favorite followers if you want. SPREAD POSITIVITY!

Awww, how sweet of you!!! Well my family first of all, then my friends, then music, then art, then animals. What about you lovelies?!🤍🤍🤍

[lovetheworld-harrypottergirl]

It only took me three years, but I finally figured out how to do the "Read more" on my stories!!!

[lovetheworld-harrypottergirl]

Request: @inlovewithafairytale " Some fluff, that reader has her period and he is there... i have my period right now and honestly need some comfort😂😭"

I got you gurl bc same and writing this caused my to focus to shift away from my freaking cramps 😂 To start off with there's a bit of a back story, but bear with me on this

Here you go!!!

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You were unique, like most supernatural creatures. But you were even more special than most, all because of Deucalion. You had been in his Pack when you were younger and he killed your parents, and he couldn't bring himself to harm a child. So he took you in under his wing, caring for you as his own and even giving you the bite when you turned seven after you had a close call with an Omega because you couldn't defend yourself. But after the bite, things changed.

You started manifesting abilities unlike anything Deucalion had ever seen, and it scared you how he began treating you as more of a weapon than a human being. So you ran away. You ran as fast as your little legs could carry you to a truck stop, where you spent the night in the back of a truck, not realizing the driver left halfway through the night with you in the back. So when you woke up with three people hovering over you, it sent your mind into high alert, shooting up from your sleeping position and backing away from the strangers. A man with a badge on his shirt held his hands up, saying you were safe and that he wouldn't hurt you.

You eventually warmed up to the the man, letting him carry you out of the back of the truck and to an ambulance, which the other two people were now waiting by. He rode with you to the hospital, telling you stories to keep your mind off it, holding your hand as the two people wheeled you into the large building. They wheeled you into a room as the man continued talking to you, until he was interrupted by a woman with brown hair entering the room.

" I heard Travis Richards found a stow away in the back of his truck."

" In deed he did."

" Is this her?"

The man nodded, stepping back from the bed a bit as the woman pulled on a pair of blue gloves, replacing the man and smiling, putting her hands on her knees and bending over a bit.

" Hi there sweetheart, my name's Melissa, I'm going to be helping Sheriff Stilinski out with you to make sure you're not sick, is that alright with you?"

You nodded as she smiled brighter.

" Good, can I see your arm?"

You nodded again, holding out your arm as she wrapped something around it, squeezing what looked like a ball and watching where the little needle went.

" Ok, blood pressure seems good, can I have a little listen to your heart?"

You nodded as she putting the thing around her neck into her ears, the end she held going to your chest.

" Ok sweetheart, just take three deep breaths in and let them out slowly."

You did as she said, taking the breaths and letting them out slowly as she set the thing back around her neck, turning to the man.

" There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with her, her blood pressure looks normal and I didn't hear anything wrong with her breathing or heart, but we should probably keep her overnight just to make sure."

" Are you sure?"

" Yes, it's best in situations like this to see if any behavior changes happen after a-"

" Pst!"

The two adults looked at each other before looking at the door, seeing two little boys peeking into the room from the hallway. The woman, Melissa sighed.

" Boys, I asked you to stay in the staff room-"

" What are they doing here?"

" Sitter had an emergency and had to drive home to Washington, they've been here the last two hours."

" Mom? Who is she?"

Melissa smiled at the little boy, grabbing his hand and leading him into the room and towards the bed.

" This is Y/n, Scott, can you say hi to her?"

" Hi."

" Mr Travis found her and called the hospital for her."

" Why? Is she sick?"

" No, she's not sick sweetheart, he just wanted to make sure if she was sick or hurt that she got taken care of."

" Oh... Well is she better?"

She chuckled softly, standing up and looking down at her son.

" Well how about this, I still have an hour until my shift is done, so how about you and Stiles keep her company and ask her things. Do you want to do that?"

He thought a moment before nodding up at his mom, seeing her smile.

" Ok, just stay in here and I'll come grab you when it's time to go home."

" Ok."

Melissa and the Sheriff left the room, leaving you to stare at the two little boys. They both hopped up on the foot of your bed, holding out their hands.

" Hi Y/n, I'm Scott."

" Hi..."

You shook his hand, look at the other boy, who was smiling cheekily.

" I'm Stiles!"

" Hi..."

" Is it true you slept in Mr Travis' truck?"

You nodded hesitantly, the boys eye lighting up.

" Woah... That's so cool! What was it like?"

You eventually began talking more with the two little boys, talking yourselves into a nap, snoring away when Melissa and the Sheriff came in to retrieve their children, deciding against it when they saw to two boys sleeping by your sides. After that and after you told the Sheriff about how you ended up in the back of the truck, he and Melissa decided to care for you since you had said you had no family. They fed you and gave you clothes, they enrolled you in school, and gave you all the love you had been missing the past few years of your life. They eventually took it a step further by essentially adopting you, sharing custody of you as they both grew to love you like their own daughter. As for Scott and Stiles, they became your best friends and adopted the roles of your self appointed big brothers, even though they were only a few months older than you.

But nonetheless, you three did everything together, from homework to classes to sports, you were almost never seen without them. And then Scott got bitten, and it changed everything. You had been supressing your abilities for years and a few weeks after Scott told you and Stiles, you came forward to them about your abilities. Stiles immediately began researching your abilities to try and help you figure out what you were, obviously, and you got along with them even better than before, you even hit it off pretty well with Scott's girlfriend Allison. But you guys went through a lot in the years after, from one of your classmates turning into a lizard to Scott rising to full status as a True Alpha when he bit some kid.

It was after that someone you didn't expect to see ever again returned, your second and third grade crush Theodore Raeken. He had always been really nice to you, so it didn't really surprise you when he continued to after you got reacquainted. You hung out for hours sometimes after you were done with practice and got lost on time when you were with him. So when he asked you out, you had to stop yourself from screaming to keep from looking crazy. And it was the best thing ever, finally being with someone who loved you as much as you loved him.

But like all couples, there were days when one of you was having a tough time and let it out on the other. You guys had had a little fight after Theo saw a guy flirting with you at a party and he had stormed off. He had been ignoring your calls and texts for almost a week and it pained you, especially on this week. You had been feeling like crap since yesterday, especially since you didn't have Theo. Your period had started and you were left with the worst cramps, and you had nobody to talk to since Scott was with Stiles and your mom was at work.

So you ended up going into the bathroom and looking at yourself in the mirror for a few minutes before you started just bawling, sliding to the ground and curling into a ball. A few minutes into your crying you heard the door close and a voice call out your name.

" Y/n? Anyone home?"

You pressed your face into your arms as you let out another cry, hearing footsteps coming towards the bathroom as the door knob jiggled.

" Y/n? Hey, what's wrong baby?"

"G-Go away Th-Theo... I don't want t-to talk to y-you..."

" Baby, listen, I'm really sorry for getting so mad the other day, would you please just talk to me?"

" I s-said I'm f-fine..."

" Baby, you're crying, you're clearly not fine. Just please let me in and tell me what's wrong."

You sniffled, staying silent as you reached behind you to help pull yourself up onto the edge of the bathtub, feeling something run down your leg. You touched and saw the red substance on your hand, your eyes watering again as you sobbed into your clean hand, hearing Theo jiggling the knob again.

" Baby, please just let me in, I- Why do I smell blood?"

You could hear him inhale through your sobbing.

" Y/n, why do I smell blood coming from in there?"

You let out another sob, Theo banging on the door.

" Y/n, please open the door baby! Please! If you don't open this I'm breaking it down!"

You covered your eyes, your sobs and the sound of Theo's door banging filling the bathroom.

" Y/n, you have about three seconds to let me in before I break this door down! Three! Two! One!"

On the count of one, Theo broke into the room, the door swinging open as he quickly knelt in front of you. You covered your face, not wanting him to see you cry as he tried to pull your hand away from your face.

" Baby, what's wrong? What happened?"

" G-Go away Th-Theo-"

He pulled your hand away from your face, moving his face down to look at you.

" Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong? Why are you crying baby?"

" P-Please just g-go away..."

" No, you're my girlfriend, do you really think I would leave you alone when you're crying? No, I wouldn't, just tell me what's wrong."

He looked and saw your hand with blood on it, a drop falling onto the bathroom floor, not seeing any visible wounds on you. Then he saw the bit of blood on the inside of your thigh, sighing out of relief.

" Come on baby, let's get you up."

You didn't resist, sniffling and hiccupping as Theo pulled you up, leading you out of the bathroom and I to the kitchen and over to the sink, turning on the water and pushing you down gently into a chair. He grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the warm water, turning the sink off and crouching in front of you, placing his hand on your thigh and rubbing his thumb against your skin gently.

" Baby, can I help you?"

You nodded a bit, your face covered by your arm, laying your head down on the table. Theo took your hand, wiping away the blood from along your fingers as he listened to your suppressed hiccups, gently tapping your leg. You moved your legs and Theo took your other hand, placing the washcloth in your hand and putting it on your thigh, moving your hand for you to clean the blood away. You let out a shaky breath, a tear dropping onto the table, Theo's hearing picking up on the quiet sound. He tugged on your hand a bit, speaking in a quiet and gentle voice.

" Hey, Y/n, look at me."

You turned your head, your head laying on your arm as you looked at him, your eyes glassy. He brought his hand up to your face, placing it on your cheek and brushing away a tear.

" What's going on, baby? I haven't seen you like this since we were in grade school."

You sniffled, your leg beginning to shake.

" I-I... I-I got so sc-scared that night... I-I convinced m-myself I wasn't g-good enough for y-you and that's w-why you left... Wh-Who am I k-kiding... Y-You are..."

" Baby, don't talk like that-"

" It's t-true... I-I'm a m-mess..."

" What are you talking about? You're beautiful baby."

" N-No I'm not... I'm a m-mess... Y-You're just b-being nice... Y-You're probably d-disgusted with m-me..."

" Baby, I've never seen anyone more breathtaking than you, you could never disgust me."

He smiled the most genuine smile you had ever seen him do, his eyes literally sparkling as they looked at you. He stood up, gently grabbing your face in between his hands and looking down at you.

" So, I don't want to see those beautiful Y/e/c eyes of yours with anymore tears, I don't wanna see it. You hear me?"

He mock yelled in a lighthearted tone, making you let out a small laugh, causing him to smile.

" There's my girl. Now, we aren't going to go back to this at all, ok?"

You nodded.

" So, you're going to go upstairs to your room and change into something cozy, then we can watch whatever you want, I don't care if it's something I don't like, we're going to watch it, ok?"

You nodded, Theo smiling and leaning down to place a kiss on top of your head, his hands rubbing up and down your arms.

" Ok, go change, I'll be waiting down here."

You nodded once more, standing up as he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, pushing you gently towards the stairs. You laughed softly, going up the stairs and to your room, going into the bathroom and changing your entire outfit, walking down the stairs in a pair of sweatpants and one of Theo's shirts you had taken underneath your Beacon Hills Lacrosse jacket. You walked into the living room, seeing Theo setting down a bowl of popcorn beside a dozen other of your favorite treats.

" What's all this?"

" Snacks for you, your mom has a bag of them she keeps hidden away for occasions like this."

" You have my mom keep a hidden stash of my favorite snacks?"

" Yeah, obviously."

Theo walked over to you and grabbed your hand, pulling you into the room and down onto the couch. You giggled, nestling yourself into his figure.

" So what do you want to watch?"

" Can we watch Camelot?"

" Of course we can."

" Thanks baby."

Theo smiled, scrolling through and clicking on your show, setting the remote down as the episode started.

" You hungry?"

" Mhm."

Theo sat up, reaching over to the table and grabbing a bowl, setting it in front of you as you looked at it. The bowl was a yellow one filled with an assortment of candy, but only yellow ones. You looked over your shoulder at him, seeing him watching you.

" What's this?"

" Candy, I know how much you like it and how the yellow ones are your favorite, so I took some time to put all your favorites together, that's the more sour candies. We have Skittles, Sourpatch Kids, Lemonheads, Sour Gummy bears, Sour Gummy worms, and lemon drops."

" Did you and my mom happen to plan any chocolate anywhere in all this?"

" Yup."

He sat up again, grabbing another yellow bowl, setting it next to the other bowl.

" This one has Mr Goodbars, M&M's, White chocolate Lindors, only the Yellow Reese's pieces, Yellow chocolate covered almonds, Sixlets, and some white chocolate covered in yellow sprinkles."

" How did I get such a great boyfriend?"

" Guess you were just lucky, now shut up and watch your show."

You giggled as you turned back to watching the show, putting a piece of candy in your mouth every few seconds, Theo nuzzling his face into your neck and pressing soft kisses to it every few minutes. By the third episode, your eyes were growing heavy and you stopped eating your candy. Theo smiled to himself, carefully sitting up and putting the bowls of candy on the table before laying down again, turning off the TV as you turned into him, murmuring sleepily.

" Why'd you turn it off..."

" Because you're obvious tired."

" No I'm not..."

" Oh really? Then what time is it?"

" It's only like 7..."

Theo chuckled, brushing some of the hair away from your face.

" It's almost 11 baby, just go to sleep."

" But I'm not..."

You paused, yawning before speaking again.

" Sleepy..."

Theo smiled.

" Ok, sure, come on."

Theo moved his arm under your waist, pulling you up and on top of him, laying your head on his chest as he played with your hair. You struggled to keep your eyes open, your lids growing heavier as you spoke quietly.

" Theo?"

He hummed back, moving his head a bit to look at you.

" I'm not tired... But you probably are... You can sleep here... I'll just hold you while you sleep..."

He laughed a bit, stroking your hair and nodding.

" Ok, you're right, I am a bit tired. Thank you for the offer baby, I'm just going to rest here tonight."

You nodded sleepily, looking up at him a bit. He held your chin gently, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, keeping his lips pressed to yours for a few seconds, whispering.

" I love you..."

" I love... You more..."

Theo smiled, placing an arm over your waist and the other on your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss on your head.

" Goodnight baby..."

And with that, you were out like a light, Theo following not to long after you. A few minutes later, your mom, Scott, Stiles, and Lydia all entered the house, arguing about something as your mom stopped. She smiles to herself.

" Scott..."

He continued talking loudly, not hearing her.

" Scott!"

" What-"

" Sh!"

He halted, following the gaze of his mom to the couch, seeing his younger sister asleep on the couch, sleeping soundly with her boyfriend holding her close. He saw Stiles look at them, elbowing him before he could get a word out.

" Ow! What the hell was that for?!"

" Sh!"

He lowered his voice, rubbing the spot he had just been elbowed.

" What? I don't like what I'm seeing."

" Stiles, grow up a bit, they're just sleeping."

" So? Sleeping leads to cuddling which leads to canoodling which leads to making out which inevitably lead to sex! I don't him sex-ing up my little sister!"

Your mom rolled her eyes, pushing the boy and the red head out of the house, bidding them good night and locking the door.

" Good night Scott."

" Night mom."

He left up the stairs, your mom looking at you sleep, sighing and grabbing a blanket. She fanned it out over you before kissing her fingers and pressing them gently to your forehead and leaving to her own bedroom, knowing you were in the hands of someone who would never intentionally do anything to hurt you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you so much for this request! I really enjoyed writing it!!! Requests are open for any story you want! Thank you my lovelies!!!🤍🤍🤍

[lovetheworld-harrypottergirl]

Hi girl. I can't help but ask you what fandoms do you fallow?

*my auto correct changed fandoms to condoms 😂

I do quite a bit that I can write for upon request, so here are all the ones I remember and already have something done for :

Percy Jackson

Heroes of Olympus

Maze Runner Trilogy

Teenwolf

Harry Potter

Once Upon a Time

Twilight

The Vampire Diaries

The Originals

Legacies

Marvel movies

And any of your OC's you can describe. I can also do imagines/headcanons with the following stated with specific characters.

Hope that answered your question!

[lovetheworld-harrypottergirl]

Long Awaited

Pairing : Thomas Brodie-Sangster x Reader, Maze Runner Cast x Reader

Warnings : Slight swearing

Word count : 5,067

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up to the sound of my alarm going off, groaning and reaching to switch it off. The room was suddenly filled with a bright light. I groaned again, burying my face into my pillow to get away from the light.

“ Y/n, time to get up.”

“ Noooo, it’s too early!”

“ Babes, you have an interveiw in less than an hour.”

My pillow was taken from me as my manager looked down at me. I grumbled up at her.

“ Jay, it’s too early for this!”

“ Honey, you can’t just lay in bed all day, you gotta get your mind off the dude.”

“ But-”

She held a finger to my lips.

“ Nope, he was bad for you and you know it, you have to move on. Dylans’ manager texted me and said that they’ll be here in 20 to pick you up and take you to the studio.”

“ Jay, do I have to?”

“ Girl, I didn’t help you all this way, ust to see the bright little light you carry be snuffed out by some toxic little son of a bitch. I’ve already picked out an outfit for you, so go take a real quick shower, dry your hair, do yourself some fine ass makeup, and put on the outfit. WHen you come out of that bathroom, you bess be shinning and smiling, you got that?”

I sighed, getting out of bed and grumbling.

“ Yes ma’am.”

“ That’s my girl.”

I walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower and getting in after putting my clothes in the hamper. I washed my hair and body, climbing out within five minutes of getting in the shower. I wrapped my hair up in a towel, sitting down at my makeup counter, putting on a thin layer of foundation and primer before I did the rest of my makeup. I took my hair down, brushing through it before sticking it in a bonnet dryer, curling it after a few minutes of it being dry. I finished my makeup and turned around, my bathrobe around me as I opened the closet and looked at the dress Jay chose for me.

It was a black and white satin mid-thigh dress, with frayed edges at the bottom of the skirt, and gold buttons in the front, with built in black shorts. I slipped it on, twirling a few times to get a feel for it. It was sexy and comfortable, and I couldn’t deny, it was cute. I slipped into a pair of heeled shoes, styled to look like Converse. I looked in the mirror, smiling at what I saw before me.

I didn’t see the same broken girl that had come into the bathroom. Instead, I saw myself looking like a queen. My curls had died down to the point where my hair was waved, beautifully complimenting the golden and bronze eye shimmer I had on. I smiled, spotting clipped to the dress a silver hair pin, with my initials on it. I clipped it to my hair, twirling before leaving the bathroom and heading down to the kitchen, seeing Jay waiting for me.

“ OMG! You look stunning!”

“ Really?”

“ Of course! Anyone that argues that you don’t look like a complete goddess right now needs to go get their eyes checked!”

I laughed, walking over and hugging Jay.

“ Thanks for helping me, I don’t know if I ever would have gotten out of bed if you weren’t my manager.”

“ Anytime honey! That’s what I’m here for! Now, go get going, Dylan’s waiting outside. You go knock them dead sweetheart.”

I giggled, kissing Jay on each of her cheeks.

“ I will, I’ll see you after I get back.”

Jay kissed my cheeks aswell before sending me off, blowing me kisses and wishing me luck. I walked out the door and to the end of the driveway, knocking on the window of Dylans’ car. He unlocked the car, smiling when I climbed in.

“ Wow, you look amazing.”

“ Thanks, Jay picked out the dress.”

“ Well, I’ll make sure to congratulate her on yet another killer look.”

“ Let’s get going, we have an interview to get to.”

Dylan backed out of the drive way and drove the forty two minutes to the set we were having our interview at. We parked the car in the back studio entrance parking lot, hurrying inside. People were all running around, talking into headsets and dashing around with things in their arms. We walked to the dressing rooms, entering through the one with our names. We were met with the sight of a stage manager pacing back and forth, speaking distressidly into a headset.

She turned to look at us when we shut the door, sighing.

“ Nevermind, I’ve got them! Thank God you two are here! Where were you?”

“ Sorry, we got stopped in a bit of traffic.”

“ Ok, well you are both supposed to be walking on stage in twenty seconds. Head back through to Stage 9 and get your makeup done.”

“ That won’t be necessary, I did mine before I left and was able to do Dylans’ during the traffic jam.”

“ Perfect! Just walk on out, they just barely started the interview.”

Dylan and I nodded, heading through the back stage areas to Stage 9, Dylan popping his head out onto stage while the crowd started cheering. We both walked out, James looking at us. The crowd continued cheering as we took our seats lined up with the rest of the cast. The crowd quieted as James looked at the both of us. James looked at me, raising his eyebrow which caused me to stifle a giggle, the crowd laughing a bit.

“ And where were you two just coming from?”

“ Sorry, we got stuck in traffic.”

“ Roads these days, am I right.”

The crowd laughed at James’ remark. He turned his attention to the crowd.

“ Now that we have the whole cast here, let’s go through and let them introduce themselves. How about you all say your name, your favorite color, and your favorite show. Rosa, do you want to start?”

“ Sure! My name is Rosa Salazar, my favorite color is green, as you can tell-”

She motioned down to her pant suit. It was a lovely sage green pant suit, with darker green sequence ligning the hem, and a broch pinned to the front pocket. She wore a cropped undershirt that was tight fitting on her upper chest, showing of the emerald chain necklace around her neck.

“ And, my faorite show would have to be Lost, because if I’m being honest, I’ve always kinda though the Ian Somerhalder is pretty cute.”

We all laughed at Rosa a bit before moving onto the next person. We went through the cast until it came to Thomas, who I had sat by when I had come on stage. James folded his hands, looking at Thomas.

“ I’m Thomas Brodie-Sangster, I don’t have a favorite color I can think of at the moment, and my favorite show is the Vampire Diaries.”

James’ raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“ What? OH!”

The crowd laughed at his response, along with the rest of us. Thomas ponited one of his fingers at James and the other at Dylan, who was dying of laughter.

“ You two! Mouths shut!”

“ Thomas, would you care to enlighten us on why your favorite show is a vampire teen-drama?”

James questioned, looking between me and Thomas. I looked at Thomas, leaning forward a bit.

“ Yeah Thomas, why is that of all others, your favorite show?”

Thomas threw his hands up in the air.

“ Fine, it’s my favorite because of the first two seasons.”

“ Why though is what we want to know?”

Thomas sighed, running his hand over his face.

“ God I hate you all so much.”

We all laughed.

“ It’s my favorite because Y/n is in it.”

Everyone in the crowd ‘ Oooo ’ at the mention of my name. We all laughed except for Thomas, who sat in his seat looking grumpy. I poked his side, causing him to look at me and smile.

“ Stop that, I’m trying to be angry.”

I giggled and leaned over to him, whispering and covering the both of our mics.

“ Well, I think you look a little cute when you’re trying to be quote on quote mad.”

Thomas blushed, clearing his throat. I giggled.

“ Y/n, you’re the last one, go on.”

“ Well, my name is Y/n L/n, my favorite color is blue, and my favorite show is Game of Thrones.”

“ And why is it your favorite?”

“ Because it had two of my best friends in the whole world, and I am not ashamed to admit that Thomas is my best friend.”

James laughed, taking a drink from his mug.

“ Well, let’s get on with the show then. So, I have a few things planned for today, but I first wanted to start with some back ground info. How was it working on the Maze Runner set?”

I raised my hand, grabbing everyones attention.

“ I know the experience was different for everyone, and I think I can say for the majority of us that it was very enjoyable, but I know for me personally it was kinda scary. And I am saying that for two reasons, the first being that there were a lot of stunts that I would sometimes be asked to do myself, and some of those were really scary. Like in the first movie when my character M/n got snatched by a Greiver and carried away, you know when all the Gladers are trying to escape?”

James nodded.

“ Well, the day that we filmed that scene, all of my stunt doubles were sick and wouldn’t be recovered enough until way after the release date was set for.”

I got up from my seat and walked the length of the stage to one of the screen walls.

“ So the directors came up to me and we were just talking, and Wes just casually slipped into the conversation that all my stunt doubles were sick and that I would be doing my own stunts for the rest of the film, and I was just like, ‘ Oh cool, this sounds like it will be a lot of fun’. So we were talking some more and Wes led me over to this-” 

I pointed at the screen, a picture of a giant wall displayed.

“ And I’m just standing there like, ‘ Wow, that’s a big wall’, and I was just thinking to myself about why Wes had led me over there. Wes started talking and said in the calmest voice I had ever heard, ‘ So this is the wall that you are gonna be falling from’.”

The crowd laghed whe I looked at them, then at James.

“ And I was just like, it doesn’t seem to big. So I was trying to calm myself, and I asked Wes for reassurance how high the wall was. He looks me straight in the eyes and says, ‘ Hm, probably about 20-30 feet’, and I hear him and my brain just stopped working for a solid two minutes. But being the person I am, I just told him it was no biggy and that I could do it. So I got my hair and makeup done and headed up to the wall, and when the stunt team got me up there and strapped into my harness, I took one look at the rest of the cast down on the ground and thought, ‘ Well shit’.”

Everyone laughed.

“ So Wes and the other directors shouted up that we were ready and the stunt team replied that I was ready too and to start filming, and I literally shouted that I wasn’t. They thought I was joking because I looked so calm and started rolling. So I tried calling down to Wes to tell him I wasn’t ready, and when I turned around, one of the stunt guys pushed me off the top of the wall. And as I’m falling and screaming, I just hear a snap.”

James gasped a bit, covering his mouth.

“ No-”

I nodded.

“ I look down at my harness, and the end of the cord that was securing me to the top was snapped. So at this point, I’m falling to the ground very quickly and screaming for my life, so I close my eyes and scream as loud as I can in hopes that this word will save me-”

I look at the audience, talking directly to them.

“ Folks, if you have a kid with you right now, you better cover their ears-”

I take a deep breath, switching off my mic so I don’t break it, screaming the word I screamed that day.

“ F*CK!”

The audience laughs, along with James and the others.

“ I scream that word for probably ten seconds before I land on something, and I was a hot mess when the rest of the cast and the directors came running to the giant blod I had landed on, all looking down at me. I was curled up in a little ball and shaking like a leaf, all while latching myself onto part of the blob. A few of the stunt members tried to get me off, but my death grip on the blob was so tight, that they had to bring the rest of the cast up and have them talk to me until I let go. That took about probably five minutes before I latched myself onto Thomas, and he slid the both of us off the blob, and just sat with me and the rest of the cast, all of who were trying to talk to me about anything else. And I think I actually have a video of it on my phone.”

I scrolled through my camera roll, landing on the video that my friend Kylie had sent to me the week following the event. I shouted up to the sound crew.

“ Could I connect it to the screen?”

“ Yep, just a moment!”

The screen turned balck and I pressed an icon on my phone, the video displaying on the large screen as I hit play. It started off with me being pushed from the top of the wall, my shrill scream sounding through the speaker system. Then came the word that killed the entire audience. The video and I looked at James.

“ You can imagine how shaken up I was after this, so when my manager came onto the set from going on a coffee run, you can only imagine what I’m gonna say next. So imagine that most female looking drag queen, with 3 inch long fingernails, walking over and seeing me shaking like a phone on full vibrate, surrounded by the rest of my cast. Let me tell you, my manager Jay is so sweet and takes such good care of me, and I love her for that. So imagine how she reacted when Dylan told her my harness broke during a stunt, and that I was practically free falling from the top of a 20-30 foot tall wall.”

I looked at the audience.

“ So Jay, being the loving person she is made sure I was alright and that I wasn’t hurt, before she started chasing around Wes waving her purse screaming all the things she was going to do if an accident like that ever happened to me again. So, that story is the first reason it can be scary for me, and the other reason is because I was working with people that I felt had a lot more experience than me and I was afraid that at some point Wes would change his mind and give my part to someone else.”

I sat back down next to Thomas and he started speaking.

“ I agree with Y/n that it could sometimes be scary, because I know that on that day, I was terrified when I heard Y/n scream and turned around and saw her harness snap. And I do agree with her that there are two different reasons that it could be scary. One of them was the stunts as well, and I think the rest of the cast minus Y/n feels they know that reading the script can be scarry.”

I looked at Thomas, narrowing my eyebrow.

“ What?”

“ Ok, so a bit of another story time break. So this happened right after everyone had been cast and Wes had invited us all in to read through the first movie script, and we were all doing so, when down the hall we heard someone scream. We all got very alarmed and got up to check it out, walking down the hall and looking into a room. Y/n and her manager were in the room, and Y/n was pacing back and forth across the room, with a discarded script laying on the floor. She was ranting on about something, and we found out that she was going off because she had gotten to the part where Alby got stung, and she had never read the books so she must have been caught very off guard. We found out after we had gotten to know her better that she has a hyper realistic way of reading, so if she reads something, she reacts as though she were actually there, with zero way of controlling how she reacts. So anytime that we would all be reading through the script with Wes and the writers and they knew there was a scene coming up that involved someone dying, they would have Jay take Y/n down the hall to another room, where she would then react as though she were already acting in the scene. So anytime that would happen and some poor new intern or whatever would be walking around and hear her scream, they would quite literally get scared out of their minds.”

“ Wow, I didn’t know that was a thing.”

James and the rest of us went on discussing with one another their experiences of working on set. James transitioned into something different.

“ Alright, how about something different, let talk about you guys. Are there any strange talents or interesting things about any of your fellow cast members that you’ve learned?”

Dylan jumped up.

“ Oh! I know one! I found out that Kaya and Rosa have this weird thing where they can both do impression singing!”

“ What?”

“ Yeah, like if I told them both to sing the song Happy as Snow White, they can both do it.”

“ Wow, ladies? Would you care to demonstrate?”

Kaya and Rosa did just what Dylan said and the crowd cheered. James applauded.

“ Wow, anyone else?”

Thomas smiled at me, speaking into his mic.

“ Y/n/n.”

James looked at me.

“ What?”

Thomas smirked at me, talking to James.

“ Y/n has a few hidden talents she can do.”

“ What? What are they?”

“ Well, she has quite a bit of them.”

“ Thomas-”

“ She has incredible flexibility, she has absolute perfect pitch, she can sing, and she once whistled so high that she broke one of our cameras on set.”

“ Thomas!”

I hit him, but he dogged it, laughing. James looked at me.

“ Would you show us?”

“ No way!”

Dylan turned around towards me, smirking.

“ Y/n, do it.”

“ Or what? You can’t make me!”

“ Do it or I’m going to tell your secret.”

“ You wouldn’t dare!”

“ Oh yes I would, show us your talents or I will.”

I grumbled, standing up and hitting Dylans’ head as I walked past him.

“ Fine, you wanna see my talents?”

The audience roared, cheering my name. I walked to the furthest end of the stage,  bending bawards and doing kick overs until I got halfway down the stage, doing another kick over before landing in the splits with my arms reached behind me and grabbing the leg behind me. The crowd cheered as I flipped myself up, bowing and turning back towards James and the rest of my friends.

“ What do you want to see me do now?”

“ Oh! Do the whistle!”

I sighed, looking at James.

“ Do you have a shatter proof room?”

“ Yeah, I actually do. Monica, take her down the hall to the white room.”

One of the stage managers walked out on stage, leading me back stage and through a hallway. She opened the door to a white room with a single table, and a window in the wall.

“ The window is made of fortified and tempered plastic, so it won’t break, do you need anything?”

“ Go grab three glasses and bring them in here.”

She nodded, running off and leaving me with a camera man and a stage manager. I spoke to the camera.

“ So, it is true I can whistle very loudly, so here is how I do it.”

Monica returned with three glasses, handing them to me. I set them on the table, closing the door and standing by the table, looking through the window at the camera. I set a hand on my diaphram and the other on my back, my palms flat.

“ You have to make sure air is flowing clearly in your lungs and you are straightened, no slouching. Start out with a normal whistle and work your way as high as you can go. I’m just going to show you how this works, so this is my normal whistle-”

I whistled normally, the sound resembling that of a bird.

“ And this is my highest whistle.”

I took a deep breath, directing my mouth down towards the glasses. I whistled normally before I jumped it up to the highest I could, the glasses shattering almost instantly. I bowed, walking out of the room and back onto the stage, the crowd greeting me with applauses and whistles of their own. James looked at me.

“ That was absolutely incredible!”

“ Thank you James, can I sit down now?”

“ No, you still have two more to do: perfect pitch and singing.”

I sighed, looking at James and my friends.

“ What do you want me to do?”

Kaya waved her hand excitedly.

“ Y/n! Do Bang Bang! I’ve always wanted to hear you do that one!”

I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose, walking over to the other stage and over to the mic. I grabbed it and threw it in the air, catching it and stomping my foot on the stage.

“ Hit it!”

The first note played from the speakers, and I let myself enjoy it, signing into the mic and smirking over at my friends.

“ She got a body like an hourglass, but I can give it to you all the time. She got a booty like a Cadillac, but I can send you into overdrive, oh. You've been waiting for that, step on up, swing your bat. See, anybody could be bad to you, you need a good girl to blow your mind, yeah. Bang-bang into the room! I know you want it. Bang-bang all over you! I'll let you have it. Just wait a minute, let me take you there, and wait a minute 'til you- Bang-bang, there goes your heart. I know you want it! Back-back seat of my car, I'll let you have it! Just wait a minute, let me take you there and, wait a minute 'til you-”

I looked over at Thomas, walking off the second stage and onto the main stage, turning his face to mine with my finger tips and smirking.

“ She might've let you hold her hand in school, but I'ma show you how to graduate. No, I don't need to hear you talk the talk, just come and show me what your mama gave! Oh, I heard you've got a very big- Mouth, but don't say a thing. See, anybody could be good to you, you need a bad girl to blow your mind!”

I let the note hang in the air, blowing a kiss to the cheering audience before the sound team turned the music back on when I took on a new section of the stage.

“ Bang-bang into the room! I know you want it. Bang-bang all over you! I'll let you have it. Just wait a minute, let me take you there, and wait a minute 'til you- Bang-bang, there goes your heart. I know you want it! Back-back seat of my car, I'll let you have it! Just wait a minute, let me take you there and, wait a minute 'til you-”

I flipped my hair, looking at Kaya and pointing to her.

“ This part’s for you Kay!”

I took a very quick but deep breath, the words coming naturally to my mind like a sixth sense.

“ It's Myx moscato, it's frizz in a bottle, it's Nicki Full Throttle, it's oh-oh. Swimming in The Grotto, we winning in the lotto', we dipping in the powder blue, four-door. Kitten so good it's dripping on wood, get a ride in the engine that could go. Batman, robbin' it, bang-bang, cocking it Queen Nicki dominant, prominent. It's me, Jessie and Ari', if they test me, they sorry. Ride his, uh, like a Harley then pull off in his Ferrari. If he hanging, we banging, phone ranging, he slanging. It ain't karaoke night but get the mic' 'cause I'm singing- B to the A to the N to the G to the- B to the A to the N to the G to the, hey. See, anybody could be good to you, you need a bad girl to blow your mind, your mind!”

I dragged the note out, holding the mic far away from me, seeing as my voice was already really loud.

“ Bang-bang into the room! I know you want it. Bang-bang all over you! I'll let you have it. Just wait a minute, let me take you there, and wait a minute 'til you- Bang-bang, there goes your heart. I know you want it! Back-back seat of my car, I'll let you have it! Just wait a minute, let me take you there and, wait a minute 'til you- Bang-bang into the room! I know you want it. Bang-bang all over you! I'll let you have it. Just wait a minute, let me take you there, and wait a minute 'til you- Bang-bang, there goes your heart. I know you want it! Back-back seat of my car, I'll let you have it! Just wait a minute, let me take you there and, wait a minute 'til you-”

I slammed my fist in the air when the last note sounded, my chest rising and falling as the audience cheered my name. I took a bow, putting the mic back on its stand walking back over to my seat beside Thomas, sitting down casually. Everyones’ jaws were dropped to the ground practically, minus Kaya and Rosa who were giddy with excitement. James was the first to speak, still awe stricken.

“ Where in the actual Hell did that come from?!"

He looked up towards the sound crew box.

" Was that a recording? Did you guys play like the actual video?"

" No James, that was all me."

The boys were all on their feet, shouting.

" What the heck! I didn't know you could sing!"

" Dude! Seriously, forget about acting and go write music!"

" Arianna, Jessie, and Nikki! We found your voices!"

I laughed, leaning forward and resting my head on Kayas’ shoulder, the both of us going into a laughing fit. After everything calmed down, we finished the interview. As soon as the cameras went off and I stood up, I was tackled to the ground, seeing Ki laying on me.

" Y/n! Why didn't you tell me!?"

" Because I knew you would all react like this! Like seriously, have none of you ever heard me practically screaming that song in my trailer?”

They shook their heads. I brushd them off when Kaya and Rosa ran over to me, hugging me and squealing.

“ Y/n! That was so good!”

“ Thanks Kay.”

“ How long have you been able to sing like that?”

“ As long as I can remember, so probably my whole life.”

“ Wow! Seriously, that was so cool, we should do a karaoke night sometime!”

I giggled.

“ Definitely.”

We all left the stage and walked into one of the dressing rooms, sitting around and talking for a while. I was leaned against a wall, listening to the conversation the rest of the cast was in, when someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around to see Thomas, smiling a bit at me.

“ Hey, can I talk to you?”

“ Sure, do you want to go somewhere to talk?”

“ Yeah.”

I nodded, following Thomas into the hallway and into an empty dressing room. He shut the door behind him, looking at me as I sat down on one of the chairs in the room. My eyes followed him as he sat down across from me, folding his hands and looking at me.

“ Is everything alright?”

“ Yeah, it’s just… I’ve had something on my mind recently.”

“ What is it?”

“ Y/n, I like you, like I really like you. And I think that you’re a beautiful and amazing person, and I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

He took a breath.

“ Would you do me the honnor of being my girlfriend?”

“ Thomas, I-”

“ I understand if you say no, but I just-”

I cut him off, standing up from my chair and walking over to him, guiding his eyes up to mine. I leaned down as I tilted his face up towards mine, pressing my lips to his in a deep and passionate kiss. His hands found their way up towards my waist, pulling me down to him. My arms wrapped around his neck, pulling me closer to him as his lips began trailing kisses down my neck. I moaned softly, holding his head closer to my body as he kissed my neck.

He slowly began trailing the kisses back up to my lips, cupping my face with his hand, pulling away for me to regain my breath and resting his forehead on mine. He gently brushed my cheek wth his hand.

“ I’ve been waiting to do that for so long.”

I stiffled a giggle, leaning into his touch, looking into his eyes.

“ I know it might be too soon, but I love you Thomas, since the moment we met I’ve loved you.”

He smiled, pressing a soft and brief kiss to my lips.

“ I love you too darling.”

[lovetheworld-harrypottergirl]

Percy Jackson & The Olympians : The Lightning Theif

Chapter 4 - MY MOTHER TEACHES ME BULLFIGHTING 

We tore through the night along dark country roads. Wind slammed against the Camaro. Rain lashed the windshield. I didn't know how my mom could see anything, but she kept her foot on the gas. 

Every time there was a flash of lightning, I looked at Grover sitting next to me in the backseat and I wondered if I'd gone insane, or if he was wearing some kind of shag-carpet pants. But, no, the smell was one I remembered from kindergarten field trips to the petting zoo — lanolin, like from wool. The smell of a wet barnyard animal. 

All I could think to say was, "So, you and my mom . . . know each other?" 

Grover's eyes flitted to the rearview mirror, though there were no cars behind us. "Not exactly," he said. "I mean, we've never met in person. But she knew I was watching you." 

"Watching me?" 

"Keeping tabs on you. Making sure you were okay. But I wasn't faking being your friend," he added hastily. "I am your friend." 

"Urn . . . what are you, exactly?" 

" That doesn't matter right now." 

"It doesn't matter? From the waist down, my best friend is a freaking donkey- " 

Grover let out a sharp, throaty "Blaa-ha-ha!" 

I'd heard him make that sound before, but I'd always assumed it was a nervous laugh. Now I realized it was more of an irritated bleat. 

"Goat!" he cried. 

"What?" 

"I'm a goat from the waist down." 

"You just said it didn't matter." 

"Blaa-ha-ha! There are satyrs who would trample you underhoof for such an insult!" 

"Whoa. Wait. Satyrs. You mean like . . . Mr. Brunner's myths?" 

"Were those old ladies at the fruit stand a myth, Percy? Was Mrs. Dodds a myth?" 

"So you admit there was a Mrs. Dodds!" 

"Of course." 

"Then why—" 

"The less you knew, the fewer monsters you'd attract," Grover said, like that should be perfectly obvious. "We put Mist over the humans' eyes. We hoped you'd think the Kindly One was a 

hallucination. But it was no good. You started to realize who you are." 

"Who I — wait a minute, what do you mean?" 

The weird bellowing noise rose up again somewhere behind us, closer than before. Whatever was chasing us was still on our trail. 

"Percy," my mom said, "there's too much to explain and not enough time. We have to get you to safety." 

"Safety from what? Who's after me?" 

"Oh, nobody much," Grover said, obviously still miffed about the donkey comment. "Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions." 

"Grover!" 

"Sorry, Mrs. Jackson. Could you drive faster, please?" 

I tried to wrap my mind around what was happening, but I couldn't do it. I knew this wasn't a dream. I had no imagination. I could never dream up something this weird. 

My mom made a hard left. We swerved onto a narrower road, racing past darkened farmhouses and wooded hills and PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES signs on white picket fences. 

"Where are we going?" I asked. 

"The summer camp I told you about." My mother's voice was tight; she was trying for my sake not to be scared. "The place your father wanted to send you." 

"The place you didn't want me to go." 

"Please, dear," my mother begged. "This is hard enough. Try to understand. You're in danger." 

"Because some old ladies cut yarn." 

"Those weren't old ladies," Grover said. "Those were the Fates. Do you know what it means — the fact they appeared in front of you? They only do that when you're about to . . . when someone's about to die." 

"Whoa. You said 'you.'" 

"No I didn't. I said 'someone.'" 

"You meant 'you.' As in me." 

"I meant you, like 'someone.' Not you, you." 

"Boys!" my mom said. 

She pulled the wheel hard to the right, and I got a glimpse of a figure she'd swerved to avoid — a dark fluttering shape now lost behind us in the storm. 

"What was that?" I asked. 

"We're almost there," my mother said, ignoring my question. "Another mile. Please. Please. Please." 

I didn't know where there was, but I found myself leaning forward in the car, anticipating, wanting us to arrive. 

Outside, nothing but rain and darkness — the kind of empty countryside you get way out on the tip of Long Island. I thought about Mrs. Dodds and the moment when she'd changed into the thing with pointed teeth and leathery wings. My limbs went numb from delayed shock. She really hadn't been human. She'd meant to kill me. 

Then I thought about Mr. Brunner . . . and the sword he had thrown me. Before I could ask Grover about that, the hair rose on the back of my neck. There was a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling boom! and our car exploded. 

I remember feeling weightless, like I was being crushed, fried, and hosed down all at the same time. 

I peeled my forehead off the back of the driver's seat and said, "Ow." 

"Percy!" my mom shouted. 

"I'm okay. . . ." 

I tried to shake off the daze. I wasn't dead. The car hadn't really exploded. We'd swerved into a ditch. Our driver 's-side doors were wedged in the mud. The roof had cracked open like an eggshell and rain was pouring in. 

Lightning. That was the only explanation. We'd been blasted right off the road. Next to me in the backseat was a big motionless lump. "Grover!" 

He was slumped over, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. I shook his furry hip, thinking, No! Even if you are half barnyard animal, you're my best friend and I don't want you to die! 

Then he groaned "Food," and I knew there was hope. 

"Percy," my mother said, "we have to . . ." Her voice faltered. 

I looked back. In a flash of lightning, through the mud-spattered rear windshield, I saw a figure lumbering toward us on the shoulder of the road. The sight of it made my skin crawl. It was a dark silhouette of a huge guy, like a football player. He seemed to be holding a blanket over his head. His top half was bulky and fuzzy. His upraised hands made it look like he had horns. 

I swallowed hard. "Who is — " 

"Percy," my mother said, deadly serious. "Get out of the car." 

My mother threw herself against the driver's-side door. It was jammed shut in the mud. I tried mine. 

Stuck too. I looked up desperately at the hole in the roof. It might've been an exit, but the edges were sizzling and smoking. 

"Climb out the passenger's side!" my mother told me. "Percy — you have to run. Do you see that big tree?" 

"What?" 

Another flash of lightning, and through the smoking hole in the roof I saw the tree she meant: a huge, White House Christmas tree-sized pine at the crest of the nearest hill. 

"That's the property line," my mom said. "Get over that hill and you'll see a big farmhouse down in the valley. Run and don't look back. Yell for help. Don't stop until you reach the door." 

"Mom, you're coming too." 

Her face was pale, her eyes as sad as when she looked at the ocean. 

"No!" I shouted. "You are coming with me. Help me carry Grover." 

"Food!" Grover moaned, a little louder. 

The man with the blanket on his head kept coming toward us, making his grunting, snorting noises. 

As he got closer, I realized he couldn 't be holding a blanket over his head, because his hands — huge meaty hands — were swinging at his sides. There was no blanket. Meaning the bulky, fuzzy mass that was too big to be his head . . . was his head. And the points that looked like horns . . . 

"He doesn't want us," my mother told me. "He wants you. Besides, I can't cross the property line." 

"But . . ." 

"We don't have time, Percy. Go. Please." 

I got mad, then — mad at my mother, at Grover the goat, at the thing with horns that was lumbering toward us slowly and deliberately like, like a bull. 

I climbed across Grover and pushed the door open into the rain. "We're going together. Come on, Mom." 

"I told you—" 

"Mom! I am not leaving you. Help me with Grover." 

I didn't wait for her answer. I scrambled outside, dragging Grover from the car. He was surprisingly light, but I couldn't have carried him very far if my mom hadn't come to my aid. 

Together, we draped Graver's arms over our shoulders and started stumbling uphill through wet waist-high grass. 

Glancing back, I got my first clear look at the monster. He was seven feet tall, easy, his arms and legs like something from the cover of Muscle Man magazine — bulging biceps and triceps and a bunch of other 'ceps, all stuffed like baseballs under vein-webbed skin. He wore no clothes except underwear — I mean, bright white Fruit of the Looms — which would 've looked funny, except that the top half of his body was so scary. Coarse brown hair started at about his belly button and got thicker as it reached his shoulders. 

His neck was a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which had a snout as long as my arm, snotty nostrils with a gleaming brass ring, cruel black eyes, and horns — enormous black-and-white horns with points you just couldn't get from an electric sharpener. 

I recognized the monster, all right. He had been in one of the first stories Mr. Brunner told us. But he couldn't be real. 

I blinked the rain out of my eyes. "That's — " 

"Pasiphae's son," my mother said. "I wish I'd known how badly they want to kill you." 

"But he's the Min— " 

"Don't say his name," she warned. "Names have power." 

The pine tree was still way too far — a hundred yards uphill at least. 

I glanced behind me again. 

The bull-man hunched over our car, looking in the windows — or not looking, exactly. More like snuffling, nuzzling. I wasn't sure why he bothered, since we were only about fifty feet away. 

"Food?" Grover moaned. 

"Shhh," I told him. "Mom, what's he doing? Doesn't he see us?" 

"His sight and hearing are terrible," she said. "He goes by smell. But he'll figure out where we are soon enough." 

As if on cue, the bull-man bellowed in rage. He picked up Gabe's Camaro by the torn roof, the chassis creaking and groaning. He raised the car over his head and threw it down the road. It slammed into the wet asphalt and skidded in a shower of sparks for about half a mile before coming to a stop. The gas tank exploded. 

Not a scratch, I remembered Gabe saying. 

Oops. 

"Percy," my mom said. "When he sees us, he'll charge. Wait until the last second, then jump out of the way — directly sideways. He can't change directions very well once he's charging. Do you understand?" 

"How do you know all this?" 

"I've been worried about an attack for a long time. I should have expected this. I was selfish, keeping you near me." 

"Keeping me near you? But — " 

Another bellow of rage, and the bull-man started tramping uphill. 

He'd smelled us. 

The pine tree was only a few more yards, but the hill was getting steeper and slicker, and Grover wasn't getting any lighter. 

The bull-man closed in. Another few seconds and he'd be on top of us. 

My mother must've been exhausted, but she shouldered Grover. "Go, Percy! Separate! Remember what I said." 

I didn't want to split up, but I had the feeling she was right — it was our only chance. I sprinted to the left, turned, and saw the creature bearing down on me. His black eyes glowed with hate. He reeked like rotten meat. 

He lowered his head and charged, those razor-sharp horns aimed straight at my chest. 

The fear in my stomach made me want to bolt, but that wouldn't work. I could never outrun this thing. So I held my ground, and at the last moment, I jumped to the side. 

The bull-man stormed past like a freight train, then bellowed with frustration and turned, but not toward me this time, toward my mother, who was setting Grover down in the grass. 

We'd reached the crest of the hill. Down the other side I could see a valley, just as my mother had said, and the lights of a farmhouse glowing yellow through the rain. But that was half a mile away. 

We'd never make it. 

The bull-man grunted, pawing the ground. He kept eyeing my mother, who was now retreating slowly downhill, back toward the road, trying to lead the monster away from Grover. 

"Run, Percy!" she told me. "I can't go any farther. Run!" 

But I just stood there, frozen in fear, as the monster charged her. She tried to sidestep, as she'd told me to do, but the monster had learned his lesson. His hand shot out and grabbed her by the neck as she tried to get away. He lifted her as she struggled, kicking and pummeling the air. 

"Mom!" 

She caught my eyes, managed to choke out one last word: "Go!" 

Then, with an angry roar, the monster closed his fists around my mother's neck, and she dissolved before my eyes, melting into light, a shimmering golden form, as if she were a holographic projection. 

A blinding flash, and she was simply . . . gone. 

"No!" 

Anger replaced my fear. Newfound strength burned in my limbs — the same rush of energy I'd gotten when Mrs. Dodds grew talons. 

The bull-man bore down on Grover, who lay helpless in the grass. The monster hunched over, snuffling my best friend, as if he were about to lift Grover up and make him dissolve too. 

I couldn't allow that. 

I stripped off my red rain jacket. 

"Hey!" I screamed, waving the jacket, running to one side of the monster. "Hey, stupid! Ground beef!" 

"Raaaarrrrr!" The monster turned toward me, shaking his meaty fists. 

I had an idea — a stupid idea, but better than no idea at all. I put my back to the big pine tree and waved my red jacket in front of the bull-man, thinking I'd jump out of the way at the last moment. 

But it didn't happen like that. 

The bull-man charged too fast, his arms out to grab me whichever way I tried to dodge. 

Time slowed down. 

My legs tensed. I couldn't jump sideways, so I leaped straight up, kicking off from the creature's head, using it as a springboard, turning in midair, and landing on his neck. 

How did I do that? I didn't have time to figure it out. A millisecond later, the monster's head slammed into the tree and the impact nearly knocked my teeth out. 

The bull-man staggered around, trying to shake me. I locked my arms around his horns to keep from being thrown. Thunder and lightning were still going strong. The rain was in my eyes. The smell of rotten meat burned my nostrils. 

The monster shook himself around and bucked like a rodeo bull. He should have just backed up into the tree and smashed me flat, but I was starting to realize that this thing had only one gear: forward. 

Meanwhile, Grover started groaning in the grass. I wanted to yell at him to shut up, but the way I was getting tossed around, if I opened my mouth I'd bite my own tongue off. 

"Food!" Grover moaned. 

The bull-man wheeled toward him, pawed the ground again, and got ready to charge. I thought about how he had squeezed the life out of my mother, made her disappear in a flash of light, and rage filled me like high-octane fuel. I got both hands around one horn and I pulled backward with all my might. The monster tensed, gave a surprised grunt, then — snap! 

The bull-man screamed and flung me through the air. I landed flat on my back in the grass. My head smacked against a rock. When I sat up, my vision was blurry, but I had a horn in my hands, a ragged bone weapon the size of a knife. 

The monster charged. 

Without thinking, I rolled to one side and came up kneeling. As the monster barreled past, I drove the broken horn straight into his side, right up under his furry rib cage. 

The bull-man roared in agony. He flailed, clawing at his chest, then began to disintegrate — not like my mother, in a flash of golden light, but like crumbling sand, blown away in chunks by the wind, the same way Mrs. Dodds had burst apart. 

The monster was gone. 

The rain had stopped. The storm still rumbled, but only in the distance. I smelled like livestock and my knees were shaking. My head felt like it was splitting open. I was weak and scared and trembling with grief. I'd just seen my mother vanish. I wanted to lie down and cry, but there was Grover, needing my help, so I managed to haul him up and stagger down into the valley, toward the lights of the farmhouse. I was crying, calling for my mother, but I held on to Grover — I wasn't going to let him go. 

The last thing I remember is collapsing on a wooden porch, looking up at a ceiling fan circling above me, moths flying around a yellow light, and the stern faces of a familiar-looking bearded man and a pretty girl, her h/c curled like a princess's. They both looked down at me, and the girl said, 

"He's the one. He must be." 

"Silence, Y/n," the man said. "He's still conscious. Bring him inside." 

[lovetheworld-harrypottergirl]

Like and repost if you are getting or already have a McDonalds Bucket Hat. 🍔🍟🥤

[lovetheworld-harrypottergirl]

DISCLAIMER!

The new series I have been posting, all writting credits go to Rick Riordan. There are parts I changed and want to make it clear I am just going through the series to make it enjoyable for people who wish it was them in the story with all that's happening. The only character in this I own will be a person who plays a minor role in the beginning but will become a more frequent apperance as I go through the books and take out Annabeth as a person. In this version of the original books that I am going through, Annabeth never exsisted and Y/n Chase was supposed to be her twin, but Annabeth didn't survive. And Y/n is special in ways I will reveal later on.

To clairify one more time, I do NOT own anything in these books besides the one character who will become a bigger part as we go on and I am modifying it for people who have sent me requests asking for the Percy Jackson books without Annabeth and only a Percy x reder throughout the whole series moving into Heros of Olympus.

Thanks for all your guys' support! Love you all my lovelies!!

XOXO ; )

[lovetheworld-harrypottergirl]

Percy Jackson & The Olympians : The Ligtning Theif

Chapter 3 - GROVER UNEXPECTEDLY LOSES HIS PANTS 

Confession time: I ditched Grover as soon as we got to the bus terminal. I know, I know. It was rude. 

But Grover was freaking me out, looking at me like I was a dead man, muttering "Why does this always happen?" and "Why does it always have to be sixth grade?" 

Whenever he got upset, Graver's bladder acted up, so I wasn't surprised when, as soon as we got off the bus, he made me promise to wait for him, then made a beeline for the restroom. Instead of waiting, I got my suitcase, slipped outside, and caught the first taxi uptown. 

"East One-hundred-and-fourth and First," I told the driver. A word about my mother, before you meet her. 

Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the best person in the world, which just proves my theory that the best people have the rottenest luck. Her own parents died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who didn't care much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent high school working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma. The only good break she ever got was meeting my dad. 

I don't have any memories of him, just this sort of warm glow, maybe the barest trace of his smile. 

My mom doesn't like to talk about him because it makes her sad. She has no pictures. See, they weren't married. She told me he was rich and important, and their relationship was a secret. Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey, and he never came back. 

Lost at sea, my mom told me. Not dead. Lost at sea. 

She worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her high school diploma, and raised me on her own. 

She never complained or got mad. Not even once. But I knew I wasn't an easy kid. Finally, she married Gabe Ugliano, who was nice the first thirty seconds we knew him, then showed his true colors as a world-class jerk. When I was young, I nicknamed him Smelly Gabe. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. The guy reeked like moldy garlic pizza wrapped in gym shorts. Between the two of us, we made my mom's life pretty hard. The way Smelly Gabe treated her, the way he and I got along ... well, when I came home is a good example. 

I walked into our little apartment, hoping my mom would be home from work. Instead, Smelly Gabe was in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. The television blared ESPN. Chips and beer cans were strewn all over the carpet. 

Hardly looking up, he said around his cigar, "So, you're home." 

"Where's my mom?" 

"Working," he said. "You got any cash?" 

That was it. No Welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been the last six months? 

Gabe had put on weight. He looked like a tuskless walrus in thrift-store clothes. He had about three hairs on his head, all combed over his bald scalp, as if that made him handsome or something. 

He managed the Electronics Mega-Mart in Queens, but he stayed home most of the time. I don't know why he hadn't been fired long before. He just kept on collecting paychecks, spending the money on cigars that made me nauseous, and on beer, of course. Always beer. Whenever I was home, he expected me to provide his gambling funds. He called that our "guy secret." Meaning, if I told my mom, he would punch my lights out. 

"I don't have any cash," I told him. 

He raised a greasy eyebrow. 

Gabe could sniff out money like a bloodhound, which was surprising, since his own smell should've covered up everything else. 

"You took a taxi from the bus station," he said. Probably paid with a twenty. Got six, seven bucks in change. Somebody expects to live under this roof, he ought to carry his own weight. Am I right, Eddie?" 

Eddie, the super of the apartment building, looked at me with a twinge of sympathy. "Come on, Gabe," he said. "The kid just got here." 

"Am I right? " Gabe repeated. 

Eddie scowled into his bowl of pretzels. The other two guys passed gas in harmony. 

"Fine," I said. I dug a wad of dollars out of my pocket and threw the money on the table. "I hope you lose." 

"Your report card came, brain boy!" he shouted after me. "I wouldn't act so snooty!" I slammed the door to my room, which really wasn't my room. During school months, it was Gabe's "study." He didn't study anything in there except old car magazines, but he loved shoving my stuff in the closet, leaving his muddy boots on my windowsill, and doing his best to make the place smell like his nasty cologne and cigars and stale beer. 

I dropped my suitcase on the bed. Home sweet home. 

Gabe's smell was almost worse than the nightmares about Mrs. Dodds, or the sound of that old fruit lady's shears snipping the yarn. 

But as soon as I thought that, my legs felt weak. I remembered Grover's look of panic — how he'd made me promise I wouldn't go home without him. A sudden chill rolled through me. I felt like someone — something — was looking for me right now, maybe pounding its way up the stairs, growing long, horrible talons. 

Then I heard my mom's voice. "Percy?" 

She opened the bedroom door, and my fears melted. 

My mother can make me feel good just by walking into the room. Her eyes sparkle and change color in the light. Her smile is as warm as a quilt. She's got a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never think of her as old. When she looks at me, it's like she's seeing all the good things about me, none of the bad. I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Gabe. 

"Oh, Percy." She hugged me tight. "I can't believe it. You've grown since Christmas!" Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central. She'd brought me a huge bag of "free samples," the way she always did when I came home. We sat together on the edge of the bed. While I attacked the blueberry sour strings, she ran her hand through my hair and demanded to know everything I hadn't put in my letters. She didn't mention anything about my getting expelled. She didn't seem to care about that. But was I okay? 

Was her little boy doing all right? 

I told her she was smothering me, and to lay off and all that, but secretly, I was really, really glad to see her. 

From the other room, Gabe yelled, "Hey, Sally — how about some bean dip, huh?" I gritted my teeth. 

My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should've been married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe. 

For her sake, I tried to sound upbeat about my last days at Yancy Academy.

I told her I wasn't too down about the expulsion. I'd lasted almost the whole year this time. I'd made some new friends. I'd done pretty well in Latin. And honestly, the fights hadn't been as bad as the headmaster said.

I liked Yancy Academy. I really did. I put such a good spin on the year, I almost convinced myself. I started choking up, thinking about Grover and Mr. Brunner. Even Nancy Bobofit suddenly didn't seem so bad. 

Until that trip to the museum ... 

"What?" my mom asked. Her eyes tugged at my conscience, trying to pull out the secrets. 

"Did something scare you?" 

"No, Mom." 

I felt bad lying. I wanted to tell her about Mrs. Dodds and the three old ladies with the yarn, but I thought it would sound stupid. 

She pursed her lips. She knew I was holding back, but she didn't push me. 

"I have a surprise for you," she said. "We're going to the beach." My eyes widened. "Montauk?" 

"Three nights — same cabin." 

"When?" 

She smiled. "As soon as I get changed." 

I couldn't believe it. My mom and I hadn't been to Montauk the last two summers, because Gabe said there wasn't enough money. 

Gabe appeared in the doorway and growled, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?" I wanted to punch him, but I met my mom's eyes and I understood she was offering me a deal: be nice to Gabe for a little while. Just until she was ready to leave for Montauk. Then we would get out of here. 

"I was on my way, honey," she told Gabe. "We were just talking about the trip." Gabe's eyes got small. "The trip? You mean you were serious about that?" 

"I knew it," I muttered. "He won't let us go." 

"Of course he will," my mom said evenly. "Your stepfather is just worried about money. That's all. Besides," she added, "Gabriel won't have to settle for bean dip. I'll make him enough seven-layer dip for the whole weekend. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works." Gabe softened a bit. "So this money for your trip ... it comes out of your clothes budget, right?" 

"Yes, honey," my mother said. 

"And you won't take my car anywhere but there and back." 

"We'll be very careful." 

Gabe scratched his double chin. "Maybe if you hurry with that seven-layer dip ... And maybe if the kid apologizes for interrupting my poker game." 

Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot, I thought. And make you sing soprano for a week. But my mom's eyes warned me not to make him mad. 

Why did she put up with this guy? I wanted to scream. Why did she care what he thought? 

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I'm really sorry I interrupted your incredibly important poker game. Please go back to it right now." 

Gabe's eyes narrowed. His tiny brain was probably trying to detect sarcasm in my statement. 

"Yeah, whatever," he decided. 

He went back to his game. 

"Thank you, Percy," my mom said. "Once we get to Montauk, we'll talk more about... whatever you've forgotten to tell me, okay?" 

For a moment, I thought I saw anxiety in her eyes — the same fear I'd seen in Grover during the bus ride — as if my mom too felt an odd chill in the air. 

But then her smile returned, and I figured I must have been mistaken. She ruffled my hair and went to make Gabe his seven-layer dip. 

An hour later we were ready to leave. 

Gabe took a break from his poker game long enough to watch me lug my mom's bags to the car. He kept griping and groaning about losing her cooking — and more important, his 78 Camaro — for the whole weekend. 

"Not a scratch on this car, brain boy," he warned me as I loaded the last bag. "Not one little scratch." 

Like I'd be the one driving. I was twelve. But that didn't matter to Gabe. If a seagull so much as pooped on his paint job, he'd find a way to blame me. 

Watching him lumber back toward the apartment building, I got so mad I did something I can't explain. As Gabe reached the doorway, I made the hand gesture I'd seen Grover make on the bus, a sort of warding-off-evil gesture, a clawed hand over my heart, then a shoving movement toward Gabe. The screen door slammed shut so hard it whacked him in the butt and sent him flying up the staircase as if he'd been shot from a cannon. Maybe it was just the wind, or some freak accident with the hinges, but I didn't stay long enough to find out. I got in the Camaro and told my mom to step on it. 

Our rental cabin was on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It was a little pastel box with faded curtains, half sunken into the dunes. There was always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea was too cold to swim in. I loved the place. 

We'd been going there since I was a baby. My mom had been going even longer. She never exactly said, but I knew why the beach was special to her. It was the place where she'd met my dad. 

As we got closer to Montauk, she seemed to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turned the color of the sea. 

We got there at sunset, opened all the cabin's windows, and went through our usual cleaning routine. 

We walked on the beach, fed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and munched on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work. I guess I should explain the blue food. 

See, Gabe had once told my mom there was no such thing. They had this fight, which seemed like a really small thing at the time. But ever since, my mom went out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixed blueberry smoothies. She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and brought home blue candy from the shop. This — along with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano — was proof that she wasn't totally suckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, like me. 

When it got dark, we made a fire. We roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom told me stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash. She told me about the books she wanted to write someday, when she had enough money to quit the candy shop. 

Eventually, I got up the nerve to ask about what was always on my mind whenever we came to Montauk — my father. Mom's eyes went all misty. I figured she would tell me the same things she always did, but I never got tired of hearing them. 

"He was kind, Percy," she said. "Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle, too. You have his black hair, you know, and his green eyes." 

Mom fished a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. "I wish he could see you, Percy. He would be so proud." 

I wondered how she could say that. What was so great about me? A dyslexic, hyperactive boy with a D+ report card, kicked out of school for the sixth time in six years. 

"How old was I?" I asked. "I mean ... when he left?" She watched the flames. "He was only with me for one summer, Percy. Right here at this beach. This cabin." 

"But... he knew me as a baby." 

"No, honey. He knew I was expecting a baby, but he never saw you. He had to leave before you were born." 

I tried to square that with the fact that I seemed to remember... something about my father. A warm glow. A smile. 

I had always assumed he knew me as a baby. My mom had never said it outright, but still, I'd felt it must be true. Now, to be told that he'd never even seen me... I felt angry at my father. Maybe it was stupid, but I resented him for going on that ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry my mom. 

He'd left us, and now we were stuck with Smelly Gabe. 

"Are you going to send me away again?" I asked her. "To another boarding school?" She pulled a marshmallow from the fire. 

"I don't know, honey." Her voice was heavy. "I think... I think we'll have to do something." 

"Because you don't want me around?" I regretted the words as soon as they were out. My mom's eyes welled with tears. She took my hand, squeezed it tight. "Oh, Percy, no. I — I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away." Her words reminded me of what Mr. Brunner had said — that it was best for me to leave Yancy. 

"Because I'm not normal," I said. 

"You say that as if it's a bad thing, Percy. But you don't realize how important you are. I thought Yancy Academy would be far enough away. I thought you'd finally be safe." 

"Safe from what?" 

She met my eyes, and a flood of memories came back to me — all the weird, scary things that had ever happened to me, some of which I'd tried to forget. 

During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked me on the playground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went away growling, but no one believed me when I told them that under his broad-brimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head. Before that — a really early memory. I was in preschool, and a teacher accidentally put me down for a nap in a cot that a snake had slithered into. My mom screamed when she came to pick me up and found me playing with a limp, scaly rope I'd somehow managed to strangle to death with my meaty toddler hands. 

In every single school, something creepy had happened, something unsafe, and I was forced to move. 

I knew I should tell my mom about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds at the art museum, about my weird hallucination that I had sliced my math teacher into dust with a sword. But I couldn't make myself tell her. I had a strange feeling the news would end our trip to Montauk, and I didn't want that. 

"I've tried to keep you as close to me as I could," my mom said. "They told me that was a mistake. But there's only one other option, Percy — the place your father wanted to send you. And I just... I just can't stand to do it." 

"My father wanted me to go to a special school?" 

"Not a school," she said softly. "A summer camp." My head was spinning. Why would my dad — who hadn't even stayed around long enough to see me born — talk to my mom about a summer camp? 

And if it was so important, why hadn't she ever mentioned it before? 

"I'm sorry, Percy," she said, seeing the look in my eyes. "But I can't talk about it. I — I couldn't send you to that place. It might mean saying good-bye to you for good." 

"For good? But if it's only a summer camp ..." 

She turned toward the fire, and I knew from her expression that if I asked her any more questions she would start to cry. 

That night I had a vivid dream. 

It was storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a white horse and a golden eagle, were trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf. The eagle swooped down and slashed the horse's muzzle with its huge talons. The horse reared up and kicked at the eagles wings. As they fought, the ground rumbled, and a monstrous voice chuckled somewhere beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder. 

I ran toward them, knowing I had to stop them from killing each other, but I was running in slow motion. I knew I would be too late. I saw the eagle dive down, its beak aimed at the horse's wide eyes, and I screamed, No! 

I woke with a start. 

Outside, it really was storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There was no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery. 

With the next thunderclap, my mom woke. She sat up, eyes wide, and said, "Hurricane." I knew that was crazy. Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer. But the ocean seemed to have forgotten. Over the roar of the wind, I heard a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that made my hair stand on end. 

Then a much closer noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice — someone yelling, pounding on our cabin door. 

My mother sprang out of bed in her nightgown and threw open the lock. Grover stood framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain. But he wasn't... he wasn't exactly Grover. 

"Searching all night," he gasped. "What were you thinking?" My mother looked at me in terror — not scared of Grover, but of why he'd come. 

"Percy," she said, shouting to be heard over the rain. "What happened at school? What didn't you tell me?" 

I was frozen, looking at Grover. I couldn't understand what I was seeing. 

"O Zeu kai alloi theoi!" he yelled. "It's right behind me! Didn't you tell her?" I was too shocked to register that he'd just cursed in Ancient Greek, and I'd understood him perfectly. I was too shocked to wonder how Grover had gotten here by himself in the middle of the night. Because Grover didn't have his pants on — and where his legs should be ... where his legs should be ... 

My mom looked at me sternly and talked in a tone she'd never used before: "Percy. Tell me now!" 

I stammered something about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds, and my mom stared at me, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning. 

She grabbed her purse, tossed me my rain jacket, and said, "Get to the car. Both of you. Go! " Grover ran for the Camaro — but he wasn't running, exactly. He was trotting, shaking his shaggy hindquarters, and suddenly his story about a muscular disorder in his legs made sense to me. I understood how he could run so fast and still limp when he walked. Because where his feet should be, there were no feet. There were cloven hooves. 

[lovetheworld-harrypottergirl]

Percy Jackson & The Olympians : The Lightning Theif

Chapter 2 - THREE OLD LADIES KNIT THE SOCKS OF DEATH 

I was used to the occasional weird experience, but usually they were over quickly. This twenty- four/seven hallucination was more than I could handle. For the rest of the school year, the entire campus seemed to be playing some kind of trick on me. The students acted as if they were completely and totally convinced that Mrs. Kerr — a perky blond woman whom I'd never seen in my life until she got on our bus at the end of the field trip — had been our pre-algebra teacher since Christmas. 

Every so often I would spring a Mrs. Dodds reference on somebody, just to see if I could trip them up, but they would stare at me like I was psycho. 

It got so I almost believed them — Mrs. Dodds had never existed. 

Almost. 

But Grover couldn't fool me. When I mentioned the name Dodds to him, he would hesitate, then claim she didn't exist. But I knew he was lying. 

Something was going on. Something had happened at the museum. 

I didn't have much time to think about it during the days, but at night, visions of Mrs. Dodds with talons and leathery wings would wake me up in a cold sweat. 

The freak weather continued, which didn't help my mood. One night, a thunderstorm blew out the windows in my dorm room. A few days later, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy Academy. One of the current events we studied in social studies class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year. 

I started feeling cranky and irritable most of the time. My grades slipped from Ds to Fs. I got into more fights with Nancy Bobofit and her friends. I was sent out into the hallway in almost every class. 

Finally, when our English teacher, Mr. Nicoll, asked me for the millionth time why I was too lazy to study for spelling tests, I snapped. I called him an old sot. I wasn't even sure what it meant, but it sounded good. 

The headmaster sent my mom a letter the following week, making it official: I would not be invited back next year to Yancy Academy. 

Fine, I told myself. Just fine. 

I was homesick. 

I wanted to be with my mom in our little apartment on the Upper East Side, even if I had to go to public school and put up with my obnoxious stepfather and his stupid poker parties. 

And yet . . . there were things I'd miss at Yancy. The view of the woods out my dorm window, the Hudson River in the distance, the smell of pine trees. I'd miss Grover, who'd been a good friend, even if he was a little strange. I worried how he'd survive next year without me. 

I'd miss Latin class, too — Mr. Brunner's crazy tournament days and his faith that I could do well. 

As exam week got closer, Latin was the only test I studied for. I hadn't forgotten what Mr. Brunner had told me about this subject being life-and-death for me. I wasn't sure why, but I'd started to believe him. 

The evening before my final, I got so frustrated I threw the Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology across my dorm room. Words had started swimming off the page, circling my head, the letters doing one-eighties as if they were riding skateboards. There was no way I was going to remember the difference between Chiron and Charon, or Polydictes and Polydeuces. And conjugating those Latin verbs? Forget it. 

I paced the room, feeling like ants were crawling around inside my shirt. 

I remembered Mr. Brunner's serious expression, his thousand-year-old eyes. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson. 

I took a deep breath. I picked up the mythology book. 

I'd never asked a teacher for help before. Maybe if I talked to Mr. Brunner, he could give me some pointers. At least I could apologize for the big fat F I was about to score on his exam. I didn't want to leave Yancy Academy with him thinking I hadn't tried. 

I walked downstairs to the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty, but Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the hallway floor. 

I was three steps from the door handle when I heard voices inside the office. Mr. Brunner asked a question. A voice that was definitely Grover's said ". . . worried about Percy, sir." 

I froze. 

I'm not usually an eavesdropper, but I dare you to try not listening if you hear your best friend talking about you to an adult. 

I inched closer. 

". . . alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a Kindly One in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too — " 

"We would only make matters worse by rushing him," Mr. Brunner said. "We need the boy to mature more." 

"But he may not have time. The summer solstice deadline — " 

"Will have to be resolved without him, Grover. Let him enjoy his ignorance while he still can." 

"Sir, he saw her. . . ." 

"His imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince him of that." 

"Sir, I ... I can't fail in my duties again." Grover's voice was choked with emotion. "You know what that would mean." 

"You haven't failed, Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen her for what she was. 

Now let's just worry about keeping Percy alive until next fall — " 

The mythology book dropped out of my hand and hit the floor with a thud. 

Mr. Brunner went silent. 

My heart hammering, I picked up the book and backed down the hall. 

A shadow slid across the lighted glass of Brunner's office door, the shadow of something much taller than my wheelchair-bound teacher, holding something that looked suspiciously like an archer's bow. 

I opened the nearest door and slipped inside. 

A few seconds later I heard a slow clop-clop-clop, like muffled wood blocks, then a sound like an animal snuffling right outside my door. A large, dark shape paused in front of the glass, then moved on. 

A bead of sweat trickled down my neck. 

Somewhere in the hallway, Mr. Brunner spoke. "Nothing," he murmured. "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice." 

"Mine neither," Grover said. "But I could have sworn . . ." 

"Go back to the dorm," Mr. Brunner told him. "You've got a long day of exams tomorrow." 

"Don't remind me." 

The lights went out in Mr. Brunner 's office. 

I waited in the dark for what seemed like forever. 

Finally, I slipped out into the hallway and made my way back up to the dorm. 

Grover was lying on his bed, studying his Latin exam notes like he'd been there all night. 

"Hey," he said, bleary-eyed. "You going to be ready for this test?" 

I didn't answer. 

"You look awful." He frowned. "Is everything okay?" 

"Just . . . tired." 

I turned so he couldn't read my expression, and started getting ready for bed. 

I didn't understand what I'd heard downstairs. I wanted to believe I'd imagined the whole thing. 

But one thing was clear: Grover and Mr. Brunner were talking about me behind my back. They thought I was in some kind of danger. 

The next afternoon, as I was leaving the three-hour Latin exam, my eyes swimming with all the Greek and Roman names I'd misspelled, Mr. Brunner called me back inside. 

For a moment, I was worried he'd found out about my eavesdropping the night before, but that didn't seem to be the problem. 

"Percy," he said. "Don't be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's . . . it's for the best." 

His tone was kind, but the words still embarrassed me. Even though he was speaking quietly, the other kids finishing the test could hear. Nancy Bobofit smirked at me and made sarcastic little kissing motions with her lips. 

I mumbled, "Okay, sir." 

"I mean . . ." Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair back and forth, like he wasn't sure what to say. "This isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time." 

My eyes stung. 

Here was my favorite teacher, in front of the class, telling me I couldn't handle it. After saying he believed in me all year, now he was telling me I was destined to get kicked out. 

"Right," I said, trembling. 

"No, no," Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying to say . . . you're not normal, 

Percy. That's nothing to be — " 

"Thanks," I blurted. "Thanks a lot, sir, for reminding me." 

"Percy—" 

But I was already gone. 

On the last day of the term, I shoved my clothes into my suitcase. 

The other guys were joking around, talking about their vacation plans. One of them was going on a hiking trip to Switzerland. Another was cruising the Caribbean for a month. They were juvenile delinquents, like me, but they were rich juvenile delinquents. Their daddies were executives, or ambassadors, or celebrities. I was a nobody, from a family of nobodies. 

They asked me what I'd be doing this summer and I told them I was going back to the city. 

What I didn't tell them was that I'd have to get a summer job walking dogs or selling magazine subscriptions, and spend my free time worrying about where I'd go to school in the fall. 

"Oh," one of the guys said. "That's cool." 

They went back to their conversation as if I'd never existed. 

The only person I dreaded saying good-bye to was Grover, but as it turned out, I didn't have to. 

He'd booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same Greyhound as I had, so there we were, together again, heading into the city. 

During the whole bus ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the aisle, watching the other passengers. It occurred to me that he'd always acted nervous and fidgety when we left Yancy, as if he expected something bad to happen. Before, I'd always assumed he was worried about getting teased. 

But there was nobody to tease him on the Greyhound. 

Finally I couldn't stand it anymore. 

I said, "Looking for Kindly Ones?" 

Grover nearly jumped out of his seat. "Wha — what do you mean?" 

I confessed about eavesdropping on him and Mr. Brunner the night before the exam. 

Graver's eye twitched. "How much did you hear?" 

"Oh . . . not much. What's the summer solstice deadline?" 

He winced. "Look, Percy ... I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers ..." 

"Grover — " 

"And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were overstressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and..." 

"Grover, you're a really, really bad liar." 

His ears turned pink. 

From his shirt pocket, he fished out a grubby business card. "Just take this, okay? In case you need me this summer." 

The card was in fancy script, which was murder on my dyslexic eyes, but I finally made out something like: 

Grover Underwood : Keeper 

Half-Blood Hill - Long Island, New York 

(800) 009-0009 

"What's Half—" 

"Don't say it aloud!" he yelped. "That's my, um . . . summer address." 

My heart sank. Grover had a summer home. I'd never considered that his family might be as rich as the others at Yancy. 

"Okay," I said glumly. "So, like, if I want to come visit your mansion." 

He nodded. "Or ... or if you need me." 

"Why would I need you?" 

It came out harsher than I meant it to. 

Grover blushed right down to his Adam's apple. "Look, Percy, the truth is, I — I kind of have to protect you." 

I stared at him. 

All year long, I'd gotten in fights, keeping bullies away from him. I'd lost sleep worrying that he'd get beaten up next year without me. And here he was acting like he was the one who defended me. 

"Grover," I said, "what exactly are you protecting me from?" 

There was a huge grinding noise under our feet. Black smoke poured from the dashboard and the whole bus filled with a smell like rotten eggs. The driver cursed and limped the Greyhound over to the side of the highway. 

After a few minutes clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that we'd all have to get off. Grover and I filed outside with everybody else. 

We were on a stretch of country road — no place you'd notice if you didn't break down there. On our side of the highway was nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars. On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand. 

The stuff on sale looked really good: heaping boxes of bloodred cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice. There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the biggest pair of socks I'd ever seen. 

I mean these socks were the size of sweaters, but they were clearly socks. The lady on the right knitted one of them. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarn. 

All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandannas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses. 

The weirdest thing was, they seemed to be looking right at me. 

I looked over at Grover to say something about this and saw that the blood had drained from his face. His nose was twitching. 

"Grover?" I said. "Hey, man—" 

"Tell me they're not looking at you. They are, aren't they?" 

"Yeah. Weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me?" 

"Not funny, Percy. Not funny at all." 

The old lady in the middle took out a huge pair of scissors — gold and silver, long-bladed, like shears. I heard Grover catch his breath. 

"We're getting on the bus," he told me. "Come on." 

"What?" I said. "It's a thousand degrees in there." 

"Come on!" He pried open the door and climbed inside, but I stayed back. 

Across the road, the old ladies were still watching me. The middle one cut the yarn, and I swear I could hear that snip across four lanes of traffic. Her two friends balled up the electric-blue socks, leaving me wondering who they could possibly be for — Sasquatch or Godzilla. 

At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life. 

The passengers cheered. 

"Darn right!" yelled the driver. He slapped the bus with his hat. "Everybody back on board!" 

Once we got going, I started feeling feverish, as if I'd caught the flu. 

Grover didn't look much better. He was shivering and his teeth were chattering. 

"Grover?" 

"Yeah?" 

"What are you not telling me?" 

He dabbed his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "Percy, what did you see back at the fruit stand?" 

"You mean the old ladies? What is it about them, man? They're not like . . . Mrs. Dodds, are they?" 

His expression was hard to read, but I got the feeling that the fruit-stand ladies were something much, much worse than Mrs. Dodds. He said, "Just tell me what you saw." 

"The middle one took out her scissors, and she cut the yarn." 

He closed his eyes and made a gesture with his fingers that might've been crossing himself, but it wasn't. It was something else, something almost — older. 

He said, "You saw her snip the cord." 

"Yeah. So?" But even as I said it, I knew it was a big deal. 

"This is not happening," Grover mumbled. He started chewing at his thumb. "I don't want this to be like the last time." 

"What last time?" 

"Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth." 

"Grover," I said, because he was really starting to scare me. "What are you talking about?" 

"Let me walk you home from the bus station. Promise me." 

This seemed like a strange request to me, but I promised he could. 

"Is this like a superstition or something?" I asked. 

No answer. 

"Grover — that snipping of the yarn. Does that mean somebody is going to die?" 

He looked at me mournfully, like he was already picking the kind of flowers I'd like best on my coffin. 

[lovetheworld-harrypottergirl]

Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Theif

Chapter 1 - I ACCIDENTALLY VAPORIZE MY PRE-ALGEBRA TEACHER

Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood. 

If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. 

Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life. 

Being a half-blood is dangerous. It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways. 

If you're a normal kid, reading this because you think it's fiction, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened. 

But if you recognize yourself in these pages — if you feel something stirring inside — stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that, it's only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they'll come for you. 

Don't say I didn't warn you. 

My name is Percy Jackson. 

I'm twelve years old. Until a few months ago, I was a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York. 

Am I a troubled kid? 

Yeah. You could say that. 

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

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

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

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

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

Boy, was I wrong. 

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

This trip, I was determined to be good. 

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

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

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

"I'm going to kill her," I mumbled. 

Grover tried to calm me down. "It's okay. I like peanut butter." 

He dodged another piece of Nancy's lunch. 

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

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

Looking back on it, I wish I'd decked Nancy Bobofit right then and there. In-school suspension would've been nothing compared to the mess I was about to get myself into. 

Mr. Brunner led the museum tour. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art. 

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickered something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turned around and said, "Will you shut up?" 

It came out louder than I meant it to. 

The whole group laughed. Mr. Brunner stopped his story. 

"Mr. Jackson," he said, "did you have a comment?" 

My face was totally red. I said, "No, sir." 

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

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

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

"Well..." I racked my brain to remember. "Kronos was the king god, and — " 

"God?" Mr. Brunner asked. 

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

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

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

Some snickers from the group. 

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

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

"Busted," Grover muttered. 

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

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

I thought about his question, and shrugged. "I don't know, sir." 

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

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

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

I knew that was coming. 

I told Grover to keep going. Then I turned toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?" 

Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go — intense brown eyes that could 've been a thousand years old and had seen everything. 

"You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner told me. 

"About the Titans?" 

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

"Oh." 

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

I wanted to get angry, this guy pushed me so hard. 

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!" and challenged us, sword-point against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. 

But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C- in my life. No — he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly. 

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

He told me to go outside and eat my lunch. 

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

Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in. Nobody else seemed to notice. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. 

Nancy Bobofit was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds wasn't seeing a thing. 

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

"Detention?" Grover asked. 

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean — I'm not a genius." 

Grover didn't say anything for a while. Then, when I thought he was going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he said, "Can I have your apple?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us. 

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

"—the water—" 

" — like it grabbed her — " 

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

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

"I know," I grumbled. "A month erasing workbooks." 

That wasn't the right thing to say. 

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds said. 

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

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

She glared at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled. 

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

"But—" 

"You— will— stay— here." 

Grover looked at me desperately. 

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

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

Nancy Bobofit smirked. I gave her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. Then I turned to face Mrs. Dodds, but she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on. 

How'd she get there so fast? 

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

I wasn't so sure. 

I went after Mrs. Dodds. 

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

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

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

But apparently that wasn't the plan. 

I followed her deeper into the museum. When I finally caught up to her, we were back in the Greek and Roman section. 

Except for us, the gallery was empty. 

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

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

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

I did the safe thing. I said, "Yes, ma'am." 

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

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

She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt me. 

I said, "I'll— I'll try harder, ma'am." 

Thunder shook the building. 

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

I didn't know what she was talking about. 

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

"Well?" she demanded. 

"Ma'am, I don't..." 

"Your time is up," she hissed. 

Then the weirdest thing happened. Her eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't human. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons. 

Then things got even stranger. 

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

"What ho, Percy!" he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air. 

Mrs. Dodds lunged at me. 

With a yelp, I dodged and felt talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatched the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hit my hand, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a sword— Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always used on tournament day. 

Mrs. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes. 

My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the sword. 

She snarled, "Die, honey!" 

And she flew straight at me. 

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

The metal blade hit her shoulder and passed clean through her body as if she were made of water. 

Hisss! 

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

I was alone. 

There was a ballpoint pen in my hand. 

Mr. Brunner wasn't there. Nobody was there but me. 

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

Had I imagined the whole thing? 

I went back outside. 

It had started to rain. 

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

I said, "Who?" 

"Our teacher. Duh!" 

I blinked. We had no teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I asked Nancy what she was talking about. 

She just rolled her eyes and turned away. 

I asked Grover where Mrs. Dodds was. 

He said, "Who?" 

But he paused first, and he wouldn't look at me, so I thought he was messing with me. 

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

Thunder boomed overhead. 

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

I went over to him. 

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

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

"Sir," I said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?" 

He stared at me blankly. "Who?" 

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

He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. 

As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?" 

[lovetheworld-harrypottergirl]

This is literally the best song ever and I think it goes perfectly with any story that has someone whois a bit jealous