#Will Percy make it past chapter 3 without dying?

[whispersinthedawn]

Concealed in the Coriolis ch 3

“Is this ... an assassination attempt?” the voice of the priest asked from behind him, sounding bemused.

Abruptly, rage filled Percy’s veins. The man had just watched Percy attack someone unprovoked and hadn’t even attempted to help – merely stood by as an indifferent observer unrelated to the happenings.

Percy whirled around. “Why, are you important?” he sneered.

He crawled a threatening inch closer to the man, willing to claw at his face and leave him as disfigured as the putrid nature of his soul if he wouldn’t lift a single finger to help a woman possibly dying right in front of him.

Lee would have never allowed any of this. This man didn’t deserve to share any resemblance to a boy who had unflinchingly rushed into battle with giants even knowing the consequences, who had once poured all his energies into healing a demigod until forcefully dragged away because the body in front of him had long since gone cold.

Galene could be slipping beyond the Styx. She could be dying inch by inch that very moment, even her sluggishly flowing blood not enough to rejuvenate cells deprived of oxygen for too long.

The priest didn’t even glance at Galene.

“I am Apollonius!” the priest growled out, flapping his cloak so that the winglike protrusions on it flared into view.

“Of Rhodes?” Percy scorned. “Because that’s the only Apollonius worth remembering.”

And that in itself was a comment about his lack of remarkableness since all Percy could recall was that Annabeth both admired and resented the man. Something about a talented poet with a habit of choosing deplorable topics on which to compose a poem. 

History would just have to make do with one less epic poet if this priest was Apollonius of Rhodes.

Apollonius barked a sharp laugh full of rage. “Do you think your status as a princess will protect you from my wrath?” he hissed. “You, who have already proven your inability to recognise your family, displayed a callous willingness to kill trusted retainers, and have fortuitously removed any witnesses from the room? Who is to gainsay me if I were to say you attacked me?”

The Iliad’s beginning ran through Percy’s mind. Sing, oh goddess, of Achilles’s rage. The tale of animosity between Achilles and Agamemnon, two of the greatest Greek warriors – and yet, was the anger of Achilles not incited by Apollo when he set plague loose on the Greeks? All because of a love for his priest, who failed to ransom his daughter from Agamemnon.

The God of Truth might discern the truth of his priest’s falsehoods, but who would dare risk divine wrath by harbouring someone who would harm a priest?

Percy clenched his teeth together, fuming, heartsore, but with the faint flickers of cold reason cooling his impetuousness. “She is not dead,” he said stiffly. “You may check for yourself.”

‘Not due to your lack of trying!’ Coronis accused him.

“I didn’t try to kill her!” Percy shouted at her.

He hadn’t, he hadn’t. Why couldn’t she just understand that and stop transmitting hatred, panic, and rage at him? Didn't she know he couldn’t think with her emotions running rampant through his head?

A moment of silence before Apollonius asked, “Who are you talking to?”

Coronis’s silver, translucent eyes widened. ‘Can you see me?’ she asked the priest.

Percy experienced a moment of mingled hope and terror, but Apollonius just studied him with cold calculation in his eyes. 

“Someone ...” Percy started before pausing. What guarantee did he have that this priest was not a gingerbread house built to conceal the cauldron to boil his flesh? Simply because he invoked a trust and longing that rightfully belonged to Lee? Was that not a tally against the sincerity of this illusion?

Someone who reminded Percy so acutely of Lee might as well have been built with the son of Apollo as the template. And Ixion – couldn’t that be the Triton Percy had hoped for in fanciful dreams he’d nonetheless half-convinced himself to be prophetic instead of the stiff, resentful merman who’d confronted him in Atlantis instead? There was even something of a resemblance.

Phlegyas – Phlegyas might as well be a Poseidon who had foresworn his wife and the gates of Olympus, or a kind-faced Paul who had raised Percy. And Cleophema the version of Sally who had never ruined her life to protect Percy’s, who had never torn apart every shred of her happiness to chain herself to Gabe and wasted her youth for Percy, who was queen of a prosperous kingdom, had a Muse for a mother who’d bless all her literary leanings, and a husband who’d stand by her side.

“You’re just an illusion,” Percy breathed out in relief. “You’re not real.”

‘You’re delusional,’ Coronis whispered in horror. ‘You don’t even think we’re real. None of us – you're going to just kill everyone because we aren’t alive in the first place.’

“Just because you’re not real doesn’t mean I’m going to kill everyone,” Percy protested. He wasn’t – he hadn’t even tried to kill Galene. Merely remove her from the way with the means at his disposal. Or would Coronis have preferred that he crack Galene’s head open just like her own had been?

Percy swayed with dizziness.

But Coronis wasn’t real either.

“Can you sit down, dear?” Apollonius asked softly, eyes pinched in wariness. “You look like you’re in pain.”

‘Don’t be taken in by him!’ Coronis shouted in warning. ‘He’s going to hurt you too!’

“I’m not going to hurt him,” Percy snapped, losing his temper. He wasn’t a monster lashing out indiscriminately at everyone around him. This was the priest he’d planned to obtain aid from.

But whatever glimpse of his intentions Coronis received from the river flooding their two banks instilled the deepest panic in her.

She rose to her feet, the caved-in side of her head with its matted strands on full display, and flung herself at Apollonius, shrieking, ‘You have to leave.’

She passed straight through the priest and crashed onto the floor behind him but Apollonius ... froze.

“What was that?” he breathed out, lips barely moving.

Percy stared at the spooked priest in shock. Had ... had he felt Coronis? Had a figment of Percy’s imagination experienced the healing rush, the cooling breeze, the eerie intermingling, with another figment of Percy’s imagination?

A crack appeared in the wall around Percy’s mind that he frantically shored up with wet sand and limp hopes.

“Did you feel something?” Percy asked in Coronis’s tiny voice.

Apollonius trembled.

Tentatively, uncertain yet unable to abandon all hope, Coronis swiped a hand through Apollonius’s bare calf.

This time the reaction was more prominent. Apollonius shivered and swivelled around in a panic, but try as he might, his wildly darting eyes failed to find anything. He backed towards the wall, suspicion settling into harsh lines on his face.

“What are you?” he demanded.

‘I’m Coronis,’ the dead spirit on the floor cried out.

“I’m,” Percy tried, instantly drawing Apollonius’s attention.

Coronis screamed – a high-pitched shriek that had Percy slamming his palms against his ears.

And threw herself at Apollonius.

The wall, perhaps spelled to repel spirits or perhaps it was merely a remnant of her soul’s belief that humans couldn’t cross ten-foot tall obstacles of mud and wood plastered with tiles, crushed her nose.

But for a few fraught seconds, Apollonius and Coronis shared the same space, breathed the same air, and might as well have been the same people.

‘Kill him, kill him, kill him,’ Coronis chanted.

“Who are you?” Apollonius whispered again, eyes glowing with the impending signs of a magical outburst.

“I’m, I’m Percy,” Percy stuttered. “And that’s Coronis. I just woke up in her body. And ... and I think she’s dead. She's dead and this isn’t real, and I just want to wake up.”

‘Kill him, he hurt Galene, he’s going to hurt everyone,’ Coronis pleaded.  

“An eidolon,” Apollonius concluded.

“No, this is a Mist illusion,” Percy corrected like a broken tape recorder.

He hoped this was an illusion.

The alternative was too terrible to contemplate.

“An illusion, you say?” Apollonius asked, voice a strange sort of dispassionate that made Percy wary.

“Yes.”

'Please, you must stop him. I can’t. I tried, but I just pass through him. It's my body but he keeps doing terrible things with it!’ Coronis cried out, lying without shame.

Percy glared at her, and indirectly, at Apollonius too. Percy had committed only one terrible act with Coronis’s hands, and even then, had he but known Galene was the shade of loyal who would let her mistress kill her, he would have simply insisted harder that she leave the room.

But he hadn’t known. Because he wasn’t Coronis. Even though he’d displaced her from her own body and replaced her with no one the wiser, which he supposed gave her ample reason to claim he’d committed atrocities.

He'd stolen her body.

Except this was an illusion so no one had stolen anything.

Apollonius blinked before his drawn-up shoulders relaxed into a loose-limbed fighter’s stance. He smiled. “Illusion, delusion, or displacement – there's a very simple way to find out.”

***

Because most of the comments on Coronis on AO3 seem to be how much people dislike her - as far as she knows, she got murdered so Percy could steal her body, seduce a god with her body, then cheat on Apollo so obviously that he kills her and sends her father to Tartarus. And, even if she were to withhold judgment because he doesn't particularly want to do this, Percy goes and nearly kills the woman who might as well be an aunt. Percy is the villain in her story, and if she must get her body made permanently beyond habitation, then that's what she will do. Because that's what heroes do. Sacrifice themselves to protect others.

***

Previous | Next

Read more on Ao3

Spotify playlist

[reinedeslys-central]

my writing directory

I know, I know, it's very audacious of me to create a writing directory when I'm not one of those stellar writers with a gazillion fics. But! I figured this is a much better way to keep track of any writing posts I make here. That way (since my tumblr fics aren't in linear scene-by-scene progression atm) anyone can just see the other parts of the fic in one spot, and I get to have one spot to know exactly what I've posted!!

scroll past the ** for writing directory.

WRITING STATS:

Fandoms I will prob write for at some point or another:

PJO / Riordanverse

Doom At Your Service

Stranger Things

Naruto

KOTLC (maybe idk)

MDZS/CQL

Love O2O/A Smile Is Beautiful

no i don't do rpf but I could be persuaded to do a cinematic universe fic

Fics currently on the go:

could die without you knowing, though - stranger things, platonic stobin dealing with tommy hagan dying (friendship weirdness), future fic (I'm talking like, they're full-on senior citizens), chrissy and eddie are alive. Tumblr & AO3

small mercies (your hands in my hair) - cisswap wangxian and gang are graduating highschool and it's their last summer in the same city. fireworks and love confessions and family feels. AO3

the currently unnamed obligatory three-days-in-the-infirmary fic - nico-centric, kinda character study, solangelo figuring things out post-BOO, kinda canon non-compliant bc idk the timeline between BOO and the other books, angst, grief, found family, softness. Tumblr only atm (the scenes are NOT in order of chronology lol)

like snakes in the grass - projected to be a JYL-centric time travel fix-it so massive I still haven't finished plotting it out lol. My OG huge fic I wanted to write. Will try posting little scenes. 'wind, peace, power;' on AO3 is supposed to be my practice run at the prologue. I will be rewriting that tho it's not my best work.

oh, haven't you heard? - a MDZS ficlet series starring gossip and rumours that are describing different canon divergences. ex. 1: oh, haven't you heard? NHS ran away to be with his lover in the burial mounds? no, you're crazy. Clearly the YLLZ abducted him. Not posted yet.

Snake In The Garden - meng yao character study.

burning like a glowing star - valgrace senior year, first meeting to kinda-lovers, right person wrong time. Tumblr

Fics that are FINISHED:

as the clouds roll in - pjo/riordanverse minor characters-centric college AU. part one of a three-part story about bianca di angelo taking care of her brother, figuring her life out, and making friends (+ Drew the unintentional major character). Anyone who can pick up on the clues (pretty easy ig) and figure out the setting, etc gets a cookie /j ! based on the vibes of 'On The Ride Home' by KC Katalbas bc I just love that song so much. AO3

********************************************************************

WRITING DIRECTORY

my ao3 which has some stuff on it if anyone wants to see that - it has all the fics that have the AO3 note on them. Should have said that lol

Every scene for the same fic will be listed in the order it's written/posted. If I end up finishing a story I'll reformat and dump the whole thing in plot-order on ao3. Cheers!

PJO / Riordanverse:

the as-of-yet unnamed obligatory three-days-in-the-infirmary fic: scene 0 - prologue-ish scene 1 - the library of social awkwardness or here (or in my heart, 'kidney function is a privilege, not a right') scene 2 - sleeping easy (also a current contender for epilogue or halfway mark in the story)

assorted scenes: good days and bad days (solangelo) too much (grover and percy and insecurities)

on the ride home-verse:

burning like a glowing star: scene 1 - I See Stars scene 2 - I can show you the world

Stranger Things:

could die without you knowing though part 0 - summary first chapter (robin gets the dreaded phone call)

MDZS/CQL:

Anyway, have a nice day y'all. <3

[timelesslords]

So Under Freezing Stars is finally done 😭I’m incredibly sad it's over but also so happy with the finished product and with the response it's gotten over the past few months <3 

I thought it might be fun to compile some little details about the fic- easter eggs and callbacks to the original books, little thematic details and symbols I included, chapter parallels, stuff like that! Everything is below the cut to avoid spoilers, but hopefully y’all find it fun and it’s an interesting way to top everything off :’) 

Symbolism/Theme

the first time Annabeth drinks nectar, she can’t put a taste to it. This is because she’s in a transitional period with her identity, where she hasn’t quite solidified a sense of home. When she wakes up after being given nectar for the second time, her mouth tastes like apples because her and Perseus had split one together back on the ship. It’s the first food they shared together after she starts associating him with the concept of home, so the nectar takes on that taste. also apples are a sacred fruit of aphrodite so, ya know ;) 

Water plays a big role thematically. There’s the obvious connection to Perseus (whenever Annabeth is looking out into the sea during an unrelated conversation, it’s sort of supposed to indicate that he’s on her mind) but also the more traditional symbolic meanings of water— washing someone/something clean, renewal, rebirth, etc. all of which are themes of the book anyways so it worked out!! Chapters to watch for water symbolism would be 18 and 32 in particular but really anytime there’s an emphasis on the sea

the quote I chose for the epigraph (”Understand this if you understand nothing: it is a powerful thing to be seen”) is from Freshwater by Akwaeke Emezi, one of my favorite books! In the context of Freshwater, this quote is when the main character (spoiler) meets someone from their culture who helps them realize they’re a god. It just felt like a particularly perfect way to start off the story, given how many parallels there are to that moment in Freshwater to the entirety UFS. Even without context it frames the story of one of self discovery, but particularly self discovery in tandem with another, which is exactly what I think UFS is about at its core. Freshwater is an incredible book that I owe so much to in terms of inspiring UFS thematically and I def recommend it, though please look up TWs for it beforehand bc it does contain a lot of triggering content.

another more obvious meta thing, the chapter titles switch from Latin to Greek after Annabeth realizes she’s Greek and not Roman 

Chapter Parallels 

 ch20 is called divinity because Annabeth views the sex as akin to a religious awakening— sleeping with her lover is both an act of worship and a revelatory experience wherein she comes to terms with the godly side of her identity. But chapter 33 is called mortal because the thing that makes them special together isn’t necessarily their parentage or their godliness, it’s their humanity. Gods can’t bare their souls to one another because they don’t have one. But mortals— vulnerable and breakable as they are— have that advantage, and when they sleep together the second time Annabeth is fully cognizant and appreciative of that fact.  

The drooling in sleep thing is obviously a callback to the OG books (it’s such an iconic first line I had to include it somehow lol) but it also has a thematic parallel (one that Annabeth actually points out within the narrative). That was one of the first moments she recognized he was human and not some unattainable figure, so it comes back to her later in ch33 when she's thinking about their mortality

In ch14, Piper offers to fix Annabeth’s hair as a peace offering. In ch33, Perseus untangles her hair for her because the idea of doing it herself is overwhelming for her. I just really like the idea of caring for someone else’s hair being an act of love towards that person :’) 

Easter Eggs/OG Book Callbacks

Blackjack asking for fried dough at the end of chapter 4 is a reference to him always asking for donuts in the original books (yes I did google “did they have donuts in ancient rome” for that lol)

The way they fight the hellhound in ch6 (Percy distracting in the front and Annabeth sneaking around the back) is their go-to fighting strategy in the books, which Percy comments on in BOTL

Obviously Jason passing out every 30 seconds is a reference to Jason getting knocked out like 3x a book in HOO (#brason)

Fai turning into a lizard in the Athens chapter is a callback to Frank the Iguana from MOA

the masthead of the ship being a dragon is meant to be reminiscent of Festus  

Other stuff!

Chapter 16 is named calm and chapter 17 is named storm bc 16 is the calm before the (literal) storm

Annabeth saying “is your head full of kelp” to percy in ch13 is the closest I could feasibly get to her calling him seaweed brain lol. I think in chapter 15 she also comments to herself that she feels like his brain is made of seaweed sometimes <3  

When Annabeth decides to let Jason and Piper wake up on their own instead of waking them up herself in ch32, it’s sort of a callback to previous comments she’s made about Jason not being a morning person. She’s still scared that he’ll be mad at her, and she doesn’t want to exacerbate that by waking him up early because she knows he’s in a worse mood in the morning. 

In the final conversation with Jason, Annabeth says “you’re always too hard on yourself” which is kind of a play on her last words to Luke in the original books (“you always pushed yourself too hard”). I don’t know why but I’ve always really liked that line, it feels very Annabeth, so I wanted to include it somehow. Jason isn’t dying but she does love him like a brother so that felt like a good place for it to go. 

something to generally look out for is how reliable or not reliable Annabeth’s narration is. She’s not like a Holden Caufield where she straight up lies to the audience, but her thoughts and observations are not always the most true version of what’s going on. This is probably most obvious in the Luke conflict (particularly chapters 21 and 23) but also when she has to read other people’s emotions and make assumptions about what they’re thinking based on that. A lot of times she’s straight up wrong and just doesn’t realize it (this is particularly relevant in ch14 lol)

another general thing to look at is chapter titles, particularly in the second half of the book. A lot of times the title of the chapter is one of the main themes of the story and that chapter is either an important plot point for that theme or a resolution of it! 

That’s all I can think of right now! I might update this later if I remember more but this is already stupidly long lol. I would apologize for turning my fic into an English assignment but if you made it this far you probably thought it was at least a little interesting, so 😂 

thank you guys again for reading <3 love you all!

[fanficsandthings]

Through the Years, Ch. 5

A George Weasley Fanfiction

A George Weasley x Slytherin reader story.

Each chapter shares events in one year of George and reader’s life together.

Word Count: 6.5k

Year 1, Year 2, Year 3, Year 4

Year 5:  Fears and Tears

Somehow this year gave Hogwarts the most competent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher the school had seen in a long time. A practical lesson on the first day of classes almost never happened, and you were more than excited to pack your books up and head out of the classroom.

“Where do you think we’re going?” you whispered to George as you walked behind Professor Lupin. 

“Hopefully somewhere I never have to open a textbook again,” he replied. 

The staffroom was the last place you expected to end up. You had been in this room plenty of times before, usually after getting caught doing a rather nasty prank. For a brief moment you were worried that you were somehow all in trouble, but the empty room told you otherwise. The wardrobe at the end of the room shook as Professor Lupin got close to it. 

“Now, class,” he said, catching everyone’s attention, “There is a boggart in this wardrobe. We will be using today’s lesson to learn how to defend oneself against it.” 

He launched into a spiel about boggarts and how to ward one off. The charm to repel it was rather simple; all you had to do was turn it into something ridiculous, but your worst fear was far from simple, and Lupin wanted everyone in the class to give it a try. The closer and closer the boggart got to you, the more you found yourself having a hard time breathing. 

Adrian Pucey cast the charm at the boggart, and the broken Nimbus 2001 broomstick in front of him transformed into a pile of dancing sticks. The sticks turned and danced their way in front of Fred, the whole class laughing as it went along. 

There was a loud cracking noise, and the boggart swirled in the air for a second, thinking about what it was going to turn into. The red headed boy’s laughter stopped immediately when the creature decided on a form. The rest of the class quickly quieted down as they took in the sight before them. 

Laying in front of Fred was a boy who looked exactly like him, covered in blood. You were sure that only a few people in the class could tell that Fred’s fear was his brother dying, and not his own death. You looked over at Lee, the twin’s best friend, who was switching his eyes between George and the body on the ground. You could feel the tears starting to creep into your eyes. 

George took a step towards his brother and put a shaky hand on Fred’s shoulder. “You okay, Freddie?” 

Fred finally tore his eyes away from the form in front of him to look at his real brother. Realization finally hit him that George was okay. He smiled at George and whispered softly, “Yeah.” 

The boggart suddenly cracked again and swirled before laying back on the ground as, again, a red headed boy covered in blood. This boy had a ghost of a laugh etched on his face, his features slightly sharper than the previous one. You could hear murmurs from the class behind you, wondering if the boggart had even changed. You knew, though, that it had switched its attention from Fred to George. Neither twin could stand the thought of living without the other. 

“Me too,” George said, but his breath caught in his throat, giving away his fear. 

Fred quickly raised his wand, sensing his brother’s feelings. “Riddikulus!” he shouted. 

The body in front of him swirled into another red head, but this time the whole class let out a loud roar of laughter. Percy Weasley stood in front of them, his shiny head boy pin four times the size it actually was and sporting the words “big headed boy.” Looking from the pin to Percy’s face, you could tell that his actual head was also enlarged. The boggart was having a hard time balancing its oversized head on its body. 

“Nice one, Fred,” George applauded, giving his brother a high five. They were both laughing harder than anyone else in the room. The image of the twin’s bodies lying motionless on ground was replaced with this beautiful image of them having the time of their lives. 

The Percy boggart finally lost its balance as it fell to the ground in front of you. It gave another loud crack and swirled in the air before it turned into a man staggering to get to his feet. You recognized him before he even looked up at you. 

His face was bloody and his clothes were torn and dirty. He looked at you with fear in his eyes. The familiar voice cracked and broke as he spoke, like he was trying not to cry.

“Run,” your father said as he got to his feet in front of you. “They’ve killed your mother. They’ll be after the two of us next.” 

You were frozen in your spot, your shoes seemingly glued to the floor as you looked at the image of your father. Tears were forming in your eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. You couldn’t bring yourself to raise your wand, not that it would have any effect, as the charm to fight it off had completely left your brain. 

You pulled your eyes away from the ragged man in front of you and found Professor Lupin standing next to the wardrobe. They suddenly shared a striking resemblance; your father now sharing similar wounds on his face, and both of their clothes were ripped and dirty.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” you said through a choked sob. You willed your feet to move backwards towards the door. “I can’t do this.” 

Turning to leave, you caught a glimpse of George out of the corner of your eye. His face looked more stunned than when he had seen his brother lying dead on the floor. He took a step forward, but Fred reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him. You saw George turn to argue with his brother but didn’t hear what he said as you stepped out the door and ran down the hallway. 

Your tears blurred your vision as you ran down the corridors, not bothering to think about exactly where you were going. You passed classrooms where you could hear teachers lecturing or students idly chatting. Every voice you heard just made you wish more and more that you were alone. 

You found yourself searching your foggy brain for the phrase the twins had told you that morning. The Fat Lady would recognize you, but she wouldn’t let you in if you couldn’t remember the password. Gryffindor Tower felt like the only place you could truly be alone at this moment, as your own housemates would only make fun of the tears on your face. 

Climbing the staircase, along with the tears and the running, made it difficult to breathe. Your chest hurt as you caught sight of the portrait. She started to speak, but you interrupted her before she could get more than a word out. 

“Fortuna Major,” you said with a ragged breath, not bothering to stop to talk. 

The Fat Lady swung open. You could hear her complaining about your manners, but you didn’t have the patience to actually listen to what she was saying. 

There were a few students in the common room. They looked up when you entered, and you could tell a few of the younger ones were confused as to why a student in Slytherin robes was in their common room. 

You ignored their questioning gazes and headed straight for the staircase that led to the boys’ dormitories. The fifth year boys’ dorm would be completely empty, as they were all in the class you just stormed out of. 

You swung open the door and quickly scanned over the room. The red and gold colors of this dorm room always seemed to bring a warmer feeling than your own. The green and black color of your own four-poster bed, while familiar and comfortable, always seemed a little colder. 

George’s bed was the furthest to the right. The curtains were thrown open, probably in his rush to get ready that morning. A muted-colored handmade quilt lay haphazardly across the mattress, his comforter left a mess on the floor. Fred’s four-poster was in a similar state of disarray. 

You let out the smallest of laughs at their disorganization as you walked over to George’s bed. Picking up the comforter and laying it on the end of his bed, you crawled onto the mattress, kicking off your shoes as you did so. You pulled the curtain closed on one side of the bed to block out the mess of the dorm. Picking up the quilt, you quietly examined the patterns Molly had put on it. 

Your tears seemed to have stopped for the time being, the calmness of the room settling your emotions. You wiped your face dry with the sleeve of your robe as you thought about how your housemates would react to the news of your running out of class crying. They were sure to make fun of you endlessly, and if any of them were smart enough to consider what the boggart had said, they would know something wasn’t right about your family. It was only a matter of time before they started asking you more questions. 

You wrapped the quilt around your shoulders, taking in the scent it gave off. You had yet to go to The Burrow, but it still smelled of home. It smelled of earth and wood and love. Most importantly, it smelled like George. 

You sighed contently into the blanket, staring out the large window next to the bed. The late morning sun was shining brightly over the school grounds. Hagrid’s hut could be seen in the distance, smoke rising out of its chimney. You finally felt at peace again. 

Footsteps could be heard on the stairs, and you hoped that whoever it was would continue past to a different dorm room. To your dismay, the door swung open and you could hear the four boys talking amongst themselves. 

“I just hope she’s okay,” one of the boys said. It sounded like Lee. 

“She’s a Slytherin. She’ll be fine,” a second boy said. Kenneth.

“She still has feelings, you know,” one of the twin’s said. They were harder to tell apart by their voices, but by the proximity of the voice to the bed you were currently in it had to be George. 

Please don’t open the curtain, you thought to yourself. Just get something from your trunk and move on. 

Unfortunately luck was not on your side, as George grabbed the curtain. “We should go check on her soon.” He pulled the curtain back to find someone he didn’t expect sitting on his bed. The look of surprise and horror on his face as he recognized that it was you made you laugh. “Bloody hell!”

The rest of the boys turned from whatever they were doing to look towards you. It wasn’t the first time you had been in their dorm, but it was the first time you came here without asking first. 

“This is a nice surprise,” Fred said with a laugh, looking between his brother and you. 

“Shut up, Fred,” George said over his shoulder. He turned back to you and lowered his voice so that only you could hear. “Are you alright?” 

It was overwhelming, the emotions overtaking you. You couldn't understand how this simple act of kindness could make your eyes well up once more, but coming from George it meant everything. 

You pulled the quilt tighter around your shoulders and managed to shake your head no. 

 George’s eyes shifted quickly around the features of your face, taking everything in in a matter of seconds. He could see the tears behind your eyes now. He looked back at his dormmates before turning quickly back to you. 

“Do you want to be left alone?” he asked and you nodded. He nodded back at you with a small smile. “We’ll be down in the common room then. Lunch starts in 30 minutes.” 

You turned your face away from him, trying hard to keep the tears from falling again. He turned back to the other boys, who were already heading towards the door. You don’t know why, but seeing George turn away from you made the want for him to stay so much greater. 

He was only a step away when you quickly scrambled to your knees to grab the same hand he hand burned almost two years ago. You fumbled a bit on the bed, just barely managing to grab on to the end of his fingers. He turned back to you, but you didn’t say anything. You were waiting for the other boys to leave the room so you didn’t draw their attention. 

The few seconds it took them to leave were agognizing. George’s eyes burned into you as you looked over his shoulder to make sure his friend’s left. You wanted to pull George into you, but you couldn’t do that with the grip you had on his hand. You wanted to cry into his shoulder, but what would he think of you after that?

“Stay,” you said just above a whisper. “Please.” 

“Okay.” He repositioned his hand so he was properly holding yours now. 

You took advantage of this and quickly pulled him into you. His knees hit the mattress and his arms wrapped around you. You brought your own arms around him and took in the scent of his robes. It smelled just like the quilt that you had wrapped around your shoulders. You let the tears run down your face without restriction now. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” he whispered into your ear. He pulled away a little to look you in the eye again. “Just because it was your worst fear doesn't mean it’ll come true.” 

“Thanks,” you said, wiping your face. 

You let go of him completely now and moved to sit with your back against the headboard. George followed suit and sat next to you. He picked up your hand and started rubbing circles on it. You sat in silence for a couple minutes, your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m more afraid of what’ll happen now,” you said suddenly. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, moving his head to look at you. 

You picked your head up off his shoulder. “I mean, any smart person could figure out that the boggart was my parents getting killed by You-Know-Who. I’ve spent four years dancing around the fact that my father is a squib and my mother is a muggle. I’m basically a Muggle-born Slytherin. Do you know how rare those are, George?”

He only shook his head in answer. 

“Completely nonexistent,” you said, pulling your hand away from him in frustration. 

“I’m sure there’s gotta be at least one,” George said. You knew he was trying to help you, but it wasn’t working. 

“I’ve done my research, George.” Your tone was a little harsher than you meant, and you could see George recoil a bit from it. You calmed yourself before speaking again. “I’m sorry. Look, I know the only reason my blood is allowed in Slytherin is because technically I’m a half-blood, but that’s not how You-Know-Who and his followers would see me. If they knew the daughter of a squib was allowed in their sacred house, they would send a whole squad of Death-Eaters after my family.”

“I didn’t know this was something you thought about so much,” George said. You could tell he wasn’t super comfortable with the conversation, but you were happy that he was staying to talk to you. 

“I think about it every day, George. I think about it every time I hear one of my housemates talk about their pure-blood parents.” You looked up at George. Your face was wet with tears again. “I have so many housemates who’s parents are known supporters of Him. I’m terrified every time I get asked about my family. Do you know how hard it is to lie about them?”

“I can only imagine,” George started, but you cut him off with a sour laugh. 

“No you can’t.” You could see the pain in his eyes at your bitterness, but he let you continue without interruption. You tried your best to lighten your tone. “You don’t have to hide who you are. You and Fred are unapologetically Weasleys. It’s what I love the most about you.” You paused for a second, thinking about if you wanted to tell him the next part. “You know in our second year when I put a snake in a girls bed?” 

“Yeah,” he said with a small laugh. 

“She broke my camera the next week,” you told him. You reached into your robe pocket and brought out the disposable camera that you carried with you. 

“You could’ve just asked your dad to send another one, though”

“That’s not the point,” you said, turning the camera over in your hands. “The one thing I allow myself to bring from the Muggle world, and she had to break it. If she was smarter she would’ve thought about why I had a Muggle invention and called me out. I was scared for the next month that she was going to say something to me about it.” 

“I’m so sorry,” George said, putting his hand over yours. You stared down at his hand. 

“It’s not your fault,” you told him. You raised the camera up, his hand dropping off yours. You quickly took a photo of him.

“What was that for?” he asked. He had learned over the past years that you would take pictures of anyone at any moment, but you almost always had a reason behind it. 

“I was told to take pictures of the sad moments too,” you said. “And your face right now is perfect.” 

“Thanks?” he said with an awkward laugh. 

You reached up and put a hand on his face. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but you ignored him. You took in the features of his face, just like he had done to you earlier. 

“Every freckle on your face tells the world who you are,” you said, your thumb softly rubbing his cheek. “You’re mischievous, funny, rebellious and loyal, willing to listen to a friend cry after holding everything in for four years. You’re beautiful, George. You’re sunshine in a person. And you never have to hide that from any one.” 

“Can I kiss you?” George asked suddenly. 

You pulled your hand away. “No,” you stated, now avoiding eye contact. 

George suddenly got very flustered, his cheeks turning a dark red. He put his hands up in a defensive motion. “I’m so sorry. I think I misread the situation. I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m so sorry.” 

“You didn’t misread anything, Georgie,” you told him. You finally wiped the tears from your face as you looked back at him. “I just think that if you kiss me now, you’ll regret it later.” 

“I would never regret something like that,” he said and reached for your hand. You let him grab it. 

“It’s sweet that you think that,” you said, tracing the freckles on the back of his hand. ”If you still want to kiss me when I’m not at my lowest, I might just let you next time.” 

You started to finally get up from his bed. “We should go before we miss lunch. If you don’t mind, I’m gonna sit with Adrian. I figure I should at least tell him the basics of what happened. I trust him and I’m sure he’s wondering if I’m okay. You can tell Fred and Lee, I don’t mind.” 

“Okay,” George said. You could see that he was still disappointed with the way the conversation ended, but he trusted you and your promise for next time. 

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

The first half of the school year passed by slowly after that. Conversations with George were awkward for a few weeks, and you tried to only spend time with him if someone else was in the room with you. It wasn’t that you thought he might do something stupid, but you knew that you wouldn’t be able to keep yourself from doing something stupid. 

The dungeons turned even colder than usual as winter settled in around the castle, and you found yourself spending most of your time as far away from them as you could. Most of your time outside of class was spent in the Gryffindor common room. If Fred and George were busy, you knew you could hang out with their siblings, or Lee and Angelina. Percy was never happy that you were in another house’s common room, but he had stopped threatening to take house points away when he realized that you just didn’t care about them. 

It was the last day before winter break, a break that you had promised the Weasleys you would spend at their house, and you were enjoying one last Hogwarts meal. 

“Are you excited for Christmas?” Fred asked as he sat next to you at the dinner table. George sat down on the other side of you. 

“I’m excited to see Charlie again,” you said. “You said he’s coming home right?”

“We did,” Fred started.

“But that’s not the point,” George finished. “It’s your first Christmas at The Burrow. And your first Christmas with us.”

“Mum’s been asking about you nonstop in every letter she’s sent,” Fred informed you. 

“But I’ve met your mum. She knows me,” you said. 

“Only briefly,” George said. “She’s a little hectic when it comes to Christmas gifts.” 

“She doesn’t need to get me anything,” you said, feeling a little embarrassed now. 

“We told her that,” Fred told you, “and she threatened to send a howler if we didn’t tell her anything.” 

You had to let out a laugh at that. “You should’ve let her send the howler.”

“We thought about it,” they both said. They seemed to reminisce for a second at the thought of getting a howler. 

“We have a Gryffindor party to get to,” Fred said suddenly, “but we’ll meet you tomorrow morning.” 

Fred got up and started to walk out of the hall, but George stayed behind. He sat for a moment in silence before you finally spoke to him again. 

“Not going to the party?” you asked, focusing more of your attention on the food in front of you than on him. 

“I have a question--or a few--to ask you first,” he said. 

“Yes?”

“Has anyone said anything about what happened?” he asked. 

“I’m assuming you mean the boggart?” You turned to look at him finally. 

“Yeah.” 

“Yes, they have,” you said and turned back to your food. “Malfoy got word of it and had his father investigate me. So naturally, now every Slytherin knows. They haven’t done anything too bad or I would’ve told you earlier. Just a few name callings and empty threats here and there.” 

“I’ve noticed you’ve been spending less time with Adrian,” George stated.

“Yeah, but I don’t blame him,” you said. 

“How could you not blame him? He’s one of your closest friends.” 

You looked at him again, and he saw that your eyes were red now. “I’m not gonna blame him for not wanting to be hated like I am. Even just associating slightly with me has made our house mates harass him too. When I first told him, he was okay with it, and I believe he still is, but he has a pure-blood family and reputation too. He’ll come around eventually. Maybe. Hopefully.” 

“Yeah, hopefully,” George said as he put a hand on your arm. “Why don’t you come to the party with us? Get your mind off things.”

“I’m good,” you told him, your thoughts now stuck on the second of September and that cruel boggart. Maybe it would be good to have a night to yourself. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” 

“If you change your mind, you know the password,” George said as he got up, leaving you alone at the table once again. 

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

Christmas at The Burrow was just how you imagined it; chaotic but pleasantly peaceful at the same time. It was something else to be surrounded by so many people in such a small space. It was hard to get time to yourself, but if you needed it you knew you had Ron’s room on the top floor that you could escape to since he stayed behind at Hogwarts with Harry and Hermione. 

The Chudley Cannons posters made the room a vibrant orange, and it hurt your eyes if you stared at it for too long. Minnie’s orange fur blended into the blanket on the bed. The ghoul in the attic above the room was a little loud, but it was nothing compared to the sounds the other people in the house made constantly. You were enjoying the view of the garden from the window when you heard a soft knock on the door. 

Walking over quickly, you opened the door to find George. He was wearing his pajamas and seemed to be trying to conceal something behind his back.

“What’re you hiding?” you asked him. 

“Nothing harmful,” he said. The look you gave him told him you didn’t believe him. “I promise.” 

He moved his hands so he was holding the object out to you now. It was the quilt he had on his bed at Hogwarts. 

“Merry Christmas,” he said. 

“It’s only Christmas Eve,” you reminded him, taking the quilt. You wrapped it around your shoulders, suddenly needing the warmth you knew it would bring you. “I thought I told you no presents?”

“It’s not from me,” he said. He took a step into the room. You let him pass. “I convinced mum not to give you anything besides that. And I already know I’m gonna be opening a brand new quilt tomorrow morning.” 

“Thank you,” you told him. “It’ll bring warmth to my dorm room.” 

“How is it under the lake?” George asked. 

“It’s beautiful,” you said, sitting on the end of the bed. “The giant squid spends a lot of time near the dorm room windows. I think it likes showing off to the students. Sometimes I wish I had a view of the grounds though. It’d be nice to know what the weather’s gonna be like before I leave the dungeons.” 

George was staring out the window. “It’s starting to snow right now.” 

“It is?” You got up to stand next to him by the window. 

The moonlight reflected brightly on the snow that already laid on the ground. The brand new flurries falling from the sky adding more softness to the land below you. The gnomes in the garden would surely be staying underground until the snow was gone. You rested your head on his shoulder, eyes closing contentedly. You took in the smell of him and the quilt, listening to the cold wind blow outside. 

George suddenly turned to you. “Grab your coat and boots. I’ll grab Charlie and Fred. Percy and Ginny too if I can get them to come.” 

“What’re you planning?!” you shouted after him, but he was already rushing down the stairs. You quickly threw the blanket on the bed and grabbed your coat before heading downstairs. 

The twins and snow were never a good mix. Adding their entire family to the group would probably make it all the more hectic. As you walked down the stairs, Charlie came out of his room, coat in hand. 

“What’s the rush?” he asked. 

“I have literally no idea,” you told him. “He got a sudden idea and, like always, we’re all being sucked into it.” 

Charlie elbowed you in the side lightly and bent down to whisper to you. “He’s just trying to cheer you up.” 

“I don’t need cheering up,” you said as you stepped off the stairs and headed for the door. 

“The twins told me about the boggart,” he said. That made you stop walking and turn to face him. “They told me how you’ve been the last few months.” 

“I’ve been fine,” you lied. 

“You basically lost a good friend because your whole house, the people who are supposed to be your family, are against who you are. I had my fair share of trouble with Slytherins. I know how most of them are.” Charlie stopped talking for a moment to look around the room. It looked like it was just the two of you in the small space. “I’m not good with human feelings, but George and Fred-- I can tell they care about you. George, he never shuts up about the jokes you plan with him. I think he likes your ideas more than Fred’s sometimes.” 

“That’s absolutely not true,” you said with a laugh. “Fred’s a genius when it comes to that stuff. I just roll with their ideas. I haven’t come up with anything in weeks.” 

“Maybe whatever George has planned out there”--he pointed to the door--“will help you get over your creative block. Now let’s go before they kill Percy. I think I hear his muffled screams.” 

Charlie was almost to the door before you stopped him, having not moved from your spot. “Charlie..” He turned to look at you again. “George is--I think I--”

“Don’t tell me,” Charlie interrupted you. “Tell him. After this grand adventure to our front garden, of course.” 

You nodded and smiled at him, finally walking towards the door. 

Opening the door, you were met with a view of something you should’ve expected, but didn’t think you’d ever see. Percy was screaming for help, but it seemed like no help would be given to him soon. Both Fred and George were throwing snowballs at him, fast enough that he didn’t have the time to recover and get his footing back. He slipped and fell just as Fred pelted a snowball right in his face, sending his glasses flying into the snow. The twins continued to throw snow at him. Ginny wasn’t any help either, as she was off to the side, not bothering to hide her laughter. 

You looked at Charlie and nodded at each other. You both scooped up some snow and, without warning, threw it as hard as you could at each of the twins. 

“Ow!” they both yelled and turned to look at you. 

“Look who finally made it,” Fred said, rubbing the back of his head. Charlie had really good aim. 

“We thought you flaked on us,” George continued. 

“I would never leave Percy out here alone with you three,” Charlie said as he eyed Ginny. She held up her hands like she had no part in it. “Don’t act like you’re innocent. You could’ve helped him.” 

“Yeah, but it’s funnier to watch him fall in the snow,” Ginny said. 

You walked over to Percy and held out your hand to help him up. Charlie grabbed his glasses and handed them back to him. 

“Thanks,” Percy said to both of you. He tried his best to dry his glasses on his coat. 

“No problem, Perc,” Charlie said. 

“Now it’s time for a little payback,” you said, a grin forming on your face. 

“No thanks,” Percy objected. “I’m going back inside where it’s warm and dry.” 

Charlie grabbed his arm. “It’s Christmas. Spend time with your family.” 

Percy sighed in annoyance as he looked between you and his brother. “Fine. What’s the plan?” 

“Oh there’s no plan,” you told him. “We just attack. Grab some snow and start throwing.” 

The snowball fight was just what you needed. It got your mind off your worries and reminded you that you still had people you could turn to when you needed them. It even got Percy out of his stuck-up shell. He did accidentally beam Charlie in the back of the head once, but Charlie got even by shoving snow down Percy’s shirt a few minutes later. You were winding up to throw a clump of snow at Ginny when suddenly you were lying face up on the ground, a heavy weight on your chest. 

“This isn’t rugby,” you said, trying to catch your breath. Your head laid back in the snow as you stared up at the sky. 

“I don’t know what that is,” the person on top of you said. The weight on your chest lightened as George sat up. 

“It’s a muggle sport,” you told him. “I think you’d like it.” 

“You should show it to me sometime.” George laid down in the snow next to you. “And that was payback for your fancy little trick you did last year in the Gryffindor vs Slytherin match.”

You let out a laugh. The look on George’s face when you tackled him off his broom would live in your mind forever. 

You could hear the other four Weasleys still fighting on the other side of the garden. You thought about getting up to help your team out, but you also thought about how nice it was to just lay on the ground next to George. 

“Does this count as fraternizing with the rival team?” you asked, turning your head to look at George. He was already looking at you. 

“I don’t think they’d mind,” he said. “They’re pretty evenly matched. Though I would say Charlie carries most of your team.” He was grinning at you now. 

You hit him in the arm lightly. “That was rude.”

“You’re the rude one for hitting me.” 

The snow was still falling, landing on his face like white freckles against his own constellation of brown ones. It stuck to his hair, causing a nice contrast against the bright orange. You were staring into his eyes and he was staring back at you. Both of your breaths could be seen in the air, like a dragon trying its hardest to get it’s fire out. A fire that you could feel in your chest, warming you from the inside, letting you ignore the cold of the winter air around you. 

“George--” you started, but you were cut off by a cold object just barely missing your head, landing hard on your shoulder. 

You looked up to see Fred 10 feet away, getting ready to throw another snowball, this time at his brother. His aim was worse this time, and the snowball hit George in the leg. 

“Stop laying around!” Fred shouted. “We have a war going on!”

You started to get up to chase after him, smiling like an idiot, because you were honestly having a great time. You had just gotten to your knees when George grabbed your hand. He was sitting up now, and he pulled you next to him. You fell into him, placing your free hand on his chest for support. 

“What were you going to say?” he asked just above a whisper. 

“I uhh-” You weren’t quite sure what to say now, so caught off guard by the way he pulled you into him. 

You looked at George, fully looked at him for the first time since that day in his dorm room. His brown eyes were soft, staring at you with all his attention. You could feel his heartbeat under your hand on his chest. It was steadier than you expected it to be at this moment. His hand was warm on yours as he squeezed it harder than he probably thought he was. His face was wet from the snow, his hair sticking to his forehead. You reached up to brush some of it to the side. Your hand found its way down his face. He furrowed his eyebrows at you while you traced the freckles on his cheek with your finger. 

You let out a shaky breath as you thought about the last time you touched his face. “Just like last time. Right, George?” 

He closed his eyes and let out a quiet sigh. “Just like last time.” 

“Ask me again.” 

“What?” He opened his eyes again to look at you. You were smiling softly at him, your hand still resting on his cheek. 

“Ask me. I promise I’ve changed my answer this time.” 

George started to smile. The most genuine smile you had ever seen on him. When he spoke, it was barely audible, just loud enough for only you to hear. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” 

As soon as the word left your mouth, his lips were on yours. The suddenness caused you to struggle to keep your balance against him, so he grabbed you tightly by the waist and pulled you closer. You kept one hand on his face, feeling the need to hold him next to you. The warmth of George being this close to you was enough to keep the fire in your chest burning forever. You both pulled away smiling and rested your foreheads against one another. 

“I think I love you, George,” you said, looking into his eyes for any reaction. All you saw was the light of the moon reflecting up from the snow. 

“I think I love you, too. You’re beautiful.” George moved so now his hand was resting on your face. You leaned into, radiating in the comfort of it. 

A sudden pain hit the side of your face, sending snow onto you and George. You both looked up to see Ginny, another snowball in hand, standing right where Fred was earlier. 

“Gross,” she said as she threw the other snowball at the two of you. It hit George in the shoulder. 

“We should go inside,” you said.

You and George started to walk towards the front of the house, hand-in-hand. The other siblings, who had finished their fight, all looked at you. Fred and Charlie were grinning. 

“Shut up,” George said to them as you got closer. 

“I didn’t think it’d happen until after Christmas,” Fred said. 

Walking into the house, George let go of your hand to head off into the corner of the room with his twin. He came back a minute later with a smile on his face. 

“Get Minnie and come to my room,” he said in a whisper so that Percy and Ginny couldn’t hear from the kitchen. You gave him a look that told him you weren’t sure about where he was going with this. “Come on, please. Fred will sleep in Ron’s room. I wanna cuddle with my girlfriend and our cat.” 

George left the room with Fred following close behind him up the stairs. You looked back at Charlie who had just come in the front door. 

“Yeah, I think that went well,” you said with a smile. 

Charlie let out a short laugh and smiled over at you. “I told you it would help.” 

[mimiswitchywrites]

Not A Burden

Totally self indulgent Merlin Fic.

TW: SH references, attempted s****de and references, child/s***al a**se references (not graphic but enough that could be triggering)

"It was on yet another hunting trip that he found her, face pale and crimson pooling under each arm. Percival would later find a small knife under some moss next to her. Sweat covered her face and chest, leaving dark patches on her cotton dress. Her eyes were shut and breathing shallow."

or

A very angsty fic where the Knights find an injured girl in the forest and take her home to heal. Queer fluff with Gwen ensues.

2.5k words.

Masterlist or Read it on AO3

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

Chapter 1:

It was on yet another hunting trip that he found her, face pale and crimson pooling under each arm. Percival would later find a small knife under some moss next to her. Sweat covered her face and chest, leaving dark patches on her cotton dress. Her eyes were shut and breathing shallow.

Merlin set to work immediately: pulling fabric bandages from his satchel along with honey and other such ointments to stop the bleeding and prevent infection growing in her shredded forearms. The King and his knights could do nothing but watch, shock drawn on their faces. They had seen blood and death before, but so rarely had they seen someone that had attempted to take their own life.

It was Lancelot that discovered the reason for her considerable sweating and pale face. Wolfsbane. Merlin opened her mouth and found her tongue swollen, further confirming the theory. He leant her forward and, after warning the party to turn around, made her empty the contents of her stomach.

Finally content that he had done all he could, Merlin approached panic mode. He left Lancelot and Elayn with the girl (Percival had left to refill the waterskins and Gwaine had had a ghostly look in his eyes since the discovery and so was left alone) and began pacing.

“We need to get back to Gaius. I can’t look after her on my own.”

“I’m no physician but she doesn’t seem fit to ride, not yet.” His King replied, doing his best to assure him.

“But what if I’ve missed something? I hardly noticed she had been—she had poisoned herself, that was all Lancelot’s doing!”.

“Consider yourself lucky that there are so many of us to help you then.”

“But—”

“You have been training with Gaius for almost a half-decade now, I trust your skills totally. It’s okay Merlin, she will be okay no matter what happens.” Arthur carelessly tacked on the last part, hoping Merlin wouldn’t notice how dark it sounded. He had seen a few of his knights return from their first battle and end up in a similar state and knew too well that most were content with dying if no one could do anything to save them.

“Now, how about you get your mind off this and make us some dinner, eh?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, nudging past. As much as he refused to admit it, he was glad Arthur had given him a distraction, even if it were preparing a stew that he wouldn’t be allowed to eat until everyone else had been served first.

--

As night fell and the fire grew smaller, Gwaine’s mind ran a thousand leagues a minute. It had been years since he had last thought of what that girl had done – around the time he had met Merlin, actually – and yet, after seeing her in that state for only a few seconds, it was all he could think about. All he could see as he closed his eyes. He longed to help her as he needed help all those years ago, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t talk (the others had made comments about how marvellous that was and he wonders, if only for a moment, if they would say the same had they known what was going on in his head.) He could barely breath, only able to let out fast, short breaths. He felt helpless.

As a Knight of the Round Table, Sir Gwaine did not like feeling ‘helpless’. He was strongly opposed to it, in fact.

It was only after Arthur awoke to take next watch that his brain began to slow (or had it sped up so fast that it felt like it had stopped?) and he began to feel tired. After some prompting by Princess, he lay on his roll mat and let sleep take over.

--

As the morning fog lifted, Merlin checked over his work once again. He removed her bandages, careful not to let it pull on her skin, and cleaned the last of the blood off. He envied Gaius’ ability to treat a patient without being upset for them – working with tears in his eyes was making the task far more difficult than it should have.

After wrapping her up once again, he declared them free to take her back to Camelot. He state hadn’t worsened overnight which was reassuring, but she hadn’t much improved either, so he thought it best for his mentor to give her a look over too. He had only dealt with poisoning a few times (and at least one of those times he had been the one poisoned) and so was not as confident in his abilities as his friends seemed to be. It was nice that they had faith in him, but he worried it was misplaced this time.

With Percy’s help, they manoeuvred the girl onto Lancelot’s horse. He had volunteered to take her so Merlin could attend to Arthur, who Lancelot had noticed was missing the young man. He had watched their relationship grow for a few years now and, despite not knowing really knowing what was going on between them, he was glad his friend had someone to be with.

Upon Arthurs command, the troop began moving. Gwaine rode at the back and Arthur and Merlin took the lead. Percival and Elyan rode next to each other, leaving Lancelot to his thoughts of the girl leaning against his chest. She was a young woman really, looking to have maybe 23 summers, but she looked so youthful that he couldn’t be sure. Her hair was braided with red fabric woven in and a few strands framed her face. She had striking black eyebrows and he was curious of her eye colour. He hoped that she would open her eyes again – the idea of someone so young trying to take their own life left him feeling cold.

He, like the rest of them, he was sure, had occasionally thought of doing as she had. Maybe not thoughts they would take forward, but ideations none the less. They had seen such horrible things throughout their travels, things that kept them up at night, things that made them want to stop thinking forever. It often led to a week at The Rising Sun, but sometimes that didn’t work.

He shivered, trying to banish those thoughts.

A part of him wondered what led her to sitting at the bottom of that tree. What could drive a young woman to consume Wolfsbane and mark her skin in such a way. He had noticed scars on her arms as Merlin wrapped her: either she had been in many, many fights before, or she had done something like this before. He wasn’t sure which option was worse.

--

Elyan and Percival were concerned. They tended to worry most days, caught up in making sure everyone was okay, but this hunting trip had not been a normal one. It had begun as usual: Merlin sneezing, coughing and stumbling each time anyone went to take a shot at some poor animal, and Arthur having a go at him for it (though everyone knew he wasn’t really angry), and then, after Gwaine finally got a lucky hit on a doe, Merlin found the woman. The light mood soured immediately, doe left on the muddy floor. Everyone went into Knight-Mode, as Elyan liked to think of it. Knight-Mode was when all casual personality faded, and they became formal protectors. Swords were usually drawn but there was no need this time – the woman didn’t look like she would be going for her blade anytime soon. Regardless, Percival kept the blade in his possession just in case.

And now, as they rode slowly towards Camelot, the pair were worrying about the silence. They loved Gwaine – he was great, really – but he had amassed a reputation of not shutting the hell up, particularly on long rides. And yet now, on a trip that would likely take two days, he was silent. Now that he thinks about it, Elyan doesn’t recall Gwaine saying more than a sentence since they had stumbled upon the woman.

On the one hand, it was refreshing being able to listen to the birds and the creek of the trees. On the other, it concerned him. Percival wasn’t much better, turning his head back every few feet to see if there was any change on Gwaine’s blank face. It looked like a part of him was missing, the light behind his eyes seemed to have disappeared. Hopefully, Percival thought briefly, he would be back to his usual blabbering self once they had returned home. Maybe some mead would do the trick. Although he would never say it aloud, the gentle giant quite enjoyed his small friends’ stories. He found they made long trips feel a lot shorter – especially when they were returning from a grave event such as this one.

“Do you have a drink we could give him?” Percival whispered to Elyan, hoping to at least cheer Gwaine up a little before they got back.

“I have water, but I fear that won’t suffice.”

“No, something much stronger seems needed. You don’t know what’s wrong, do you?

The smaller man shook his head, looking grim. The subject of their concern didn’t seem to notice their concerned glances despite their distinct lack of subtlety.

No closer to finding a solution, the pair looked ahead, and continued riding.

--

Arthur had been riding horses since he was 3. He was good at it, great, even, but right now, all he could think about was how much his arse hurt. Turning to his left, he could tell Merlin was on the same train of thought (about his own arse, Arthur doubted his friend thought about his Kings arse unless it was about the trousers that they agreed never to talk about again). After mulling it over for longer than was needed, he raised his hand to warn the others they would be resting for a while. He knew there was a good stream nearby and intended to lead them there first.

‘Intended’ because, before he could lean his horse towards where he was reasonably sure the stream was, Lancelot called out for Merlin. It seemed their guest was waking up.

Merlin quickly hopped off his saddle, barely keeping his legs from buckling after being sat still for so long, and made his way to Lancelot and Percival, the latter of which had also dismounted. They carefully lifted the girl from Lancelot’s horse and sat her against a tree (It looked far too much like the way they found her for Arthurs liking).

Merlin took a waterskin from the nearest horse and gently poured some down her throat. This clearly woke her up more as she began coughing and spluttering, pushing Merlin’s hand away in the process. When her wheezing calmed down, she looked around in surprise.

“Wh—” another scratchy cough, “Where am I? My throat, it’s burn—” more painful coughs. Arthur almost looked away, somehow feeling guilty that she was in such pain.

“You are on your way to Camelot. My name is Merlin, I’m the Royal Physicians apprentice. This,” he gestures to Arthur who decides he should look more Kingly and not cower and the pained sounds she is making “is King Arthur Pendragon and the others are Knights of the Round Table.”

“Oh.”

Merlin rummages in his bag, pulling the phial of honey out again. He pours a little onto a wooden spoon he had in his coat pocket, and hands it to the girl. How Merlin remembers where he keeps all these small objects is beyond Arthur, but he is glad he does.

“Here, drink this. It should soothe your throat a little. It’s just honey but it will do until we get back to Camelot.”

She eyes it, sceptical, but drinks it regardless.

“I am sorry for the burning. I had to make you, you know, get rid of the wolfsbane you ingested.” She grimaced at the thought.

Arthur waited for a short while until he was certain Merlin was done tending to their guest. “There is a stream around the corner. We should stop there to have lunch before we set off again. I am sure we would all appreciate the chance to stretch our legs.”

The knights all grunt in response before they set off again. Merlin and the girl walk side by side – the girl leaning on him a little – while Lancelot takes the reins of Merlin’s horse along with his own. It doesn’t take them long to reach the stream Arthur had mentioned and the relief that they could stop properly was evident on everyone’s faces. Except Gwaine, he hardly seemed to register they have even moved. Arthur furrowed his brows at this but choose to ignore it for now.

The knights sat on a large log, Merlin and Arthur sitting opposite them, as they ate the bread and salted meat that the manservant retrieved upon reaching the stream. The girl sat beside Lancelot looking dazed. The kind knight offers her small smiles and sips of water occasionally but it doesn’t make much difference.

“I’m going to get more water.” Declared Gwaine, picking up his full waterskin, which looks like it hasn’t been touched since yesterday. He left with a nod to his King, not giving anyone time to object. Merlin shot his back a concerned look but stayed, his patient having his focus. No one else made a move to leave, too into eating or watching the girl as she nibbles on her bread and sips of Lancelot’s drink.

--

Gwaine was not a crier. He was not going to cry. He was a Knight of the Round Table, protector to the King of Camelot and, if Merlin’s drunk ramblings had any truth to them, protector to the Once and Future King of the united Albion, whatever that meant.

And yet, as he stumbled to away from the camp, aware that no one was coming after him, he felt a lump in his throat that he couldn’t shove down. He finally didn’t feel numb, but he wasn’t sure this was better. Thinking of how his friends would react to him coming back with red eyes didn’t help the situation, instead making his eyes glossy. He sighed a long sigh, and heavily slid down an oak tree, hugging his arms against his chest and leaning his head on his knees.

A part of his wanted to pull his sleeves back and trace the white stripes that lines his arms. Another part wanted to make them red again. But a more rational part (likely influenced by Merlin, curse that beautiful boy) made sure he kept them where they were, wrapped around his torso. He could feel where each line lay, his mind playing tricks on him as he pictured his little blade drawing against his skin.

Sometimes, often, Gwaine hated his brain. It wasn’t a very nice to him. Though, he thought, he wasn’t very nice to his body so maybe this was fair.

He took a sip of his water, making a face as he regretted not bringing the skin of mead that he had thought about before they set off a few dawns ago. Mead would be very nice right now.

Pouring some water on his hands and splashing his face with it, he stood up, shook his head as if to dislodge the thoughts, and made his way back to the temporary camp. A few paces from his previous seat, he realised that he hadn’t actually filled his waterskin, but it was too late and so all he could do was hope no one noticed.

They had, but they didn’t comment so he considered that a win.

Arthur hopped up again as he noticed Gwaine return (he tried not to stare at the clearly-not-refilled waterskin) and gestured for everyone else to rise too. Time to set off. If they continued at the speed they were at before, they should get back before luncheon the next day and he could have a nice long bath, the girl could be treated fully, Gwaine would go to the Tavern and would return just as talkative as before (though he wouldn’t object if he talked just a little less, the King thought) and everything would be okay.

Just one more night in the woods.

-

-

-

-

I hope you liked this! I have a few chapters already written and am expecting it to be about 6 chapters long? It was meant to be a one shot but I got carried away...

If you happen to want to be on a tag list for this then comment/message me!

This is the first fic I've properly written and it's based on a dream I've been having over the last few days. It's not really planned so I hope that doesn't show.

[hopefullystillliving]

Shed Skin Prologue

Waste Not, Want Not

Her plans haven’t been working out. She’s not entirely sure what happened, but She does know something went wrong. Good thing She’s got another one, and all it involves (for now) is waiting. She’s gotten good at that.

|Chapter 1

Masterpost|LAOFT

Sympathetic!Deceit, past Unsympathetic!Deceit, Sympathetic!Remus, LAOFT Linda/Percy

Warnings: Spooky Eldritch Shadow Nightmare Monster Mama being Eldritch (She’s doing Her best), referenced antagonist death, implied unsympathetic!Deceit?, vaguely implied gore, SESNMMama’s interpretation of main character death and grief, I’m trying to cover all my bases but honestly this isn’t that bad I think.

Words: 2658

Violet "Writing so good it gets a fandom wiki and fanfics based off it because not only is the world compelling, the characters believable, and the plot fantastic, they're a fantastic, lovely, genuinely good person who manages to make everyone feel comforted by their mere presence" inspired me after 2 ½ years without writing. And because I've been reading LAOFT since... Brother came out I think? (gosh how has it been that long.) I decided to give in and do something for it. And as I started drafting, Putting Others First came out and gave us more of our Evil Just a Snek Boi and inspired me even more, and then I made up like 3 mental pages of true name lore for reasons that at the time of writing this isn’t /technically/ wrong, but two cakes! This cake just happens to consist purely of ultra-specific hyperfixation lore that I aggressively made to fit with my Plans. I could honestly rant about all my fun facts about this for days, but I’m trying to keep this coherent. (Tolkein I love you, but there is a time and a place for excessive worldbuilding) So if you love to hate The Serpent King, but also really like sympathetic Dee, well… So do I. And so, apparently, does my brain. I don’t know how long it will be, but the answer is going to be “too long”. I already have two chapters properly plotted out.

Originally submitted Here @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors. I also fixed the formatting.

☙❀❧-☙✿❧-☙❀❧-☙✿❧-☙❀❧-☙✿❧-☙❀❧-☙✿❧-☙❀❧-☙✿❧

Something was Wrong. It was Spring, and it was far too dark. She liked the dark, and the cold, but everything had it’s time, and this was not the time. Her Virgil was awake, and Her town had changed, and Her Durant had a ghost. These were not Wrong. Her Virgil had only recently fallen asleep, being awake was his usual state. Her town was always changing, filled with mortals as it was, even with its ever-growing Presence. Her Durant having a ghost was new and unexpected, especially with the state it was in, but not Wrong. And if it was not Her Virgil, or Her town, or Her Durant, then it was Her. Her Forest was Wrong. And She did not remember Her Name. That was not Wrong, or even new or unexpected, but it was something She noticed, as She felt She had in the past. This was more disconcerting than it should have been though, so much that She nearly missed Her Younger Son dying. Key word being nearly.

That was not Wrong, but it was not Right either. It was the ghost’s fault, who was no longer Her Younger’s. Perhaps the ghost was more Wrong than She had thought. Catching Herself before She missed what was clearly Important, She focused, and there It was, the flickering remains of what She had given to make Her Durant. She pulled it back to Herself, returning the essence of Her Youngest to Its source before It could fade out of this world completely. A distant Part of Herself, the Part that still had a Name, felt like she should feel something… painful? Sadness was the closest match she had felt from Her Virgil, but that was Wrong. The thought that She should be feeling was Wrong too, so as with all that was Wrong She pushed it away, crushing it beneath Her Presence.

Turning Her attention to what She had gathered, She focused inward. It was easy to distinguish from the rest of Herself, with sharp edges and a coiling, scale-smooth surface, like the snake It had used to be part of. She started to Shape It, return It to Herself as It had been before She Made Her Youngest, but It would not stick. It molded Itself into Her shapes, broke and tore like Her Youngest’s body, and reformed together at a thought, as the rest of Her would, but It refused to return to Its original state, as part of Her. Unless… It was not? She had taken part of Herself, and Given it to Her Youngest, the closest she could come to Giving a Name, and She had done that as well. She had Named the parts She had Shaped into Her Youngest, and Her Virgil, and His Sisters. It made sense that They were no longer Her, as She had thought. This sharp, coiling, scaly shadow was not returning because It was already complete. It was what was left of Her Youngest, that She had Given to Him, and as a Gift It was not Hers to Take Back anymore. That… Complicated things.

She remembered Her Virgil telling Her that Her Youngest was Wrong, and She was dimly aware of talking, fretting, and explaining. Explaining what had happened. She was not sure She understood well, but She thought She understood well enough. Her Youngest had caused this Wrongness in her forest, this too dark Spring, or at least Her Virgil believed so. And Virgil was Her Regent. She could not return Her Youngest to the Courts while Virgil still lived, it would cause anger and sadness and more than likely end up in Her having to gather Her Youngest’s Essence again, it would not be worth it. She did not want to get rid of It, that would be a waste. Even waiting for Virgil to die would not be foolproof, though She had clearer knowledge of how Her Son was separated from Her, Virgil was still Like Her and could fade like She had. And even if Virgil did die, Her Youngest had not worked as he had been supposed to the last time. Her Youngest would need a guide, but there were none to be had at the moment, and She could not take that mantle on. So She resolved to put away the issue for the moment and turned Her focus to Her Son, and then to the Mortal, Witch, and Spring that seemed to have captivated Virgil. She examined them, curious as to why exactly they had caught Her Son’s eye. Apparently, however, Her interest caused them fear, so She decided to respect Virgil’s desire to have His Loves left alone. She had enough information now anyway.

One was a mortal. Blessed, but a mortal nonetheless. One was a witch, magical, but ultimately mortal as well. One was a Spring, a powerful one at that, but a Green Man. Wild. Her Son was setting Himself up for sadness, yet they brought Him such joy. Every one of them was absolutely priceless to Him. This was Important. She pondered on this, though she kept it to the back of her mind. It seemed She needed to be more present, lest She cause Virgil undue concern. Then, so soon, She sensed joy coming off of Her Son like snowdrifts, and excitement. She did not remember Him ever being so happy, so She paid attention.

It was exhausting, forcing Herself to follow the days and nights alongside the Inhabitants of Her Forest, but soon enough it proved itself worth it as She watched Her Son and His Loves bind themselves together, swearing by Moon and Stars and Sun, and Dark and Light, and Rivers and Fire, and Air and Earth alongside everyone else They called Family. For the first time in centuries She Saw and Heard, instead of sensing, and tiring as it was She undeniably did not remember ever being so happy. She was There for Her Son’s Wedding! Time slipped by Her more than usual after that, but She was still Present, still Aware of when Virgil would speak to Her, and that was far more Important.

Then They began wanting a Child. She could not Feel the others, but Her Son felt Wrong, and as with all that was Wrong She wanted to push it away, to crush it beneath Her Presence, to make the Wrongness Right. Well, that was something She could help with. It had been some time since She had Made someone, but not nearly so long that She could not remember how. She was as gentle as She could be as She took what She needed from each of Them, gathering the pieces not all at once, but slowly. They wanted a Child, so she would make them a Proper Child. Bit by bit She balanced out what would make this new creation Different. On the First Day of Autumn, She was ready. The Child would have no Mothers, so a Name Given by a Grandmother would suffice.

    I Name You Linda. You Are the Daughter of Winter, Mortal, Witch, and Spring. You Are a Lynx. You Are a Princess. You Are Autumn, Unseelie, and Fae. Wake.

There is less of a difference between Granddaughter Asleep and Awake than She expected, but the Witch-Hazel is blooming, and She must bring Her Son. It takes Pushing and Pulling, but Her Son goes, and brings Granddaughter to His Loves. She draws back. Everything has been going quickly, and She has not thought about what this, Her Son marrying His Loves, Her Making Granddaughter, means. So though She stays alert, Her focus shifts from Her Son and Granddaughter to Herself, and the issue of the sharp coil that remains safely tucked away. She thinks, and considers, and questions, and finally by the end of it all has a plan. All it involves for now is waiting. She has gotten good at that.

☙❀❧-☙✿❧

The Witch died. She has a new word for a feeling, a name for the unnameable pain: grief. He had sworn on his body of Fire and Earth, and had fulfilled those vows. She does not remember it well, but the first time He met Her, He had tried to hide His fear with boldness and brightness, and kept His Spark until He could keep it no more. It is curious, She thinks, how Important one mortal witch could be. She leaves Her Son and the Mortal and the Spring and Granddaughter to mourn. (It feels Wrong, not being able to truthfully think “His Loves”, but this Wrong cannot be made Right. She can only push it away.)

☙❀❧-☙✿❧

Granddaughter was crying. Time was harder to grasp, but the Witch’s death had been three seasons ago. She was unsure of how long grief kept its hold, but Her Son and His remaining two Loves seemed better. She did not want Granddaughter to cry. Without thinking, She reached out a shadow and prodded at Granddaughter’s mind. An incomprehensible flood of feelings and words poured out, like blood from a wound. She cannot understand, cannot translate what She could do to Right this Wrong, cannot speak, but She tries her best, and sends an old picture, one of Her Son and His Sisters and Linda curled up together in an old hammock. It just makes Granddaughter cry harder. She leaves.

☙❀❧-☙✿❧

The Mortal is dead. No one is shocked, but that doesn’t seem to make Their grief any less. By the Rivers and Earth of His body he had sworn, and she remembers the rivers He had cried on that day. He tried to stay steady and grounded to counteract the Air in his Blessing, to keep Himself rooted even when everything seemed to be crumbling. She cannot bring Herself to feel much of anything, even though every moment She is aware of means a moment from which she can measure the time she has left to wait. She still does not understand. The part of Her that could have, perhaps, felt and empathized with Their grief is gone. But this time She does not ask. She does not understand, but She has learned that some Wrongs cannot be made Right, or pushed aside, or crushed. She does not like it, but lately She has learned She does not like many things, including, to Her surprise, waiting.

☙❀❧-☙✿❧

Granddaughter is mourning again. This is fresh, a mortal that Granddaughter had cared for had died. This mortal had not been Family, so She was confused in a way She thought she could fix. She reached out a shadow, but this time She did not prod, only wrapped Granddaughter’s wrist; gently, She remembered. She had never properly spoken to Granddaughter before, so She tried to send words instead of images as She asked

    Why do you grieve?

Granddaughter startled, and couldn’t seem to respond. Flashes passed through Her, memories and feelings that She could only barely understand, until they stopped abruptly and were replaced with something She could.

    He was family.

She understood what it meant, but did not understand why Granddaughter said that. They shared no blood, and had not bound themselves together through vows or oaths. But She did understand that Granddaughter meant it, and just because She did not understand, that did not mean it could not be understood. She let Granddaughter be.

☙❀❧-☙✿❧

Time passes. She has moved beyond Ancient, and can barely bring Herself to consciousness most of the time, let alone remembering. She does still remember some things, a blooming Witch-Hazel, Her Son, four pairs of hands bound together with silver, and Granddaughter, but sharpest of all is the Essence She holds that is Of Her and is Her no longer. She cannot remember what It is for, besides that She must Make something, but must wait to do so. There will come a day where Her Plan will be complete, and until then She must wait a while longer. She is simply waiting, season by season, cycle by cycle, until all at once She feels pain. For a single moment She thinks grief, then dismisses the thought. This is not just grief as She has learned to recognize it, this is Wrong. She gathers Herself and focuses on Her Son and His… heartbreak that even now is quickly dulling into shock.

The Spring is gone, just as broken in body as Her Son in spirit. She switches focus to the pond where Granddaughter and Granddaughter’s Love and the Summer are, and cannot bother being gentle as She grabs Granddaughter’s attention.

    Grandmother?

    Come.

She registers confusion and hesitance and there was no time.

    Come now.

Granddaughter followed Her lead to Her Son and the moment Granddaughter saw the scene, She could feel it. But that did not matter, because Her Son could not live on without His last Love, so rule of Her Forest would pass to Granddaughter, and She was almost done waiting, but Her Son was dying here and now and She had to pay Attention. She tightened around Granddaughter as She spoke.

    Goodbye.

She knew Granddaughter understood, as Her Son was laid down. She wrapped Herself around Their hands and tried to give reassurance.

    Mercy. Mercy.

    I know.

She forced herself to be Present as she had not been in centuries, Her Son deserved proper Words, and Granddaughter needed the comfort.

    My Son. My Son, Give Me Your Name.

He was apologizing, and the Summer was soothing Him in a way She was unable to do. Though She could not soothe, this, finally, was a Wrong She could make Right.

    Dear Child. Your Name.

    I am Virgil. Spider Prince of the Winter Court, Lord of the Forest, Bruderspinne, Husband of Mortal, Witch, and Spring, Father of Autumn.

A moment, a last goodbye, and then-

    Virgil. Spider Prince of the Winter Court, Lord of the Forest, Bruderspinne, Husband of Mortal, Witch, and Spring, Father of Autumn.

    Go Home.

It is painless, and that may be the worst part. A string has been cut, severing Her Son, severing Virgil’s connection to life and to Her and to Her Forest and the heartbreak She had felt was gone but so was Her Son! She retreats, and thinks that perhaps She finally understands grief.

☙❀❧-☙✿❧

As Her Forest changes, so does She. The Courts are in safe hands and as they are moving on, so is She as She begins to bring to fruition centuries worth of waiting. She knows that this will Right a Wrong, though She cannot remember what or why or how it was Wrong, She knows what and why and how She must do this. She takes the sharp, scaly shadow and begins to work. Some pieces are taken out, and She does Her best to take this essence that She had Shaped before and return It to what She had first Made. It is memories that She most concerns Herself with, and it is difficult, delicate work based mostly off of half-present instincts. She takes immense care, both with cutting the memories and with the parts of Herself that She shapes and shaves off to Give. She tries to Give what She thinks She remembers Her First Creation had, things to soften Its sharp coils. It is nearly done when She lets It shift and slither to the Witch-Hazel. She Makes It a body, a little younger this time than before, and binds essence and form together. There is a child in the Witch-Hazel, who She does not think She should call Her Son, and who is the solution to a very old problem. It takes more effort than She’d like, but She coalesces to speak, to Give Him a Name from a Mother.

    I Name You Durant. You Are a Snake. You Are a Prince. You Are Winter, Unseelie, and Fae. You will be Protected. Wake.

The Child wakes. For the first time in centuries, the Witch-Hazel is in bloom.

[flightfoot]

By the way, these are kinda how I try to find new things I can make chapters of Memories of Godly Selfishness out of:

My biggest consideration is does it teach Apollo something I think he should know, that he has not already had hammered into his head hard enough.

So for instance, chapter 1 shows Apollo how oblivious he used to be, really letting him see his previous actions through a new lens, from an outside perspective. What had seemed like normal behavior (which it was, for gods) suddenly became abhorrent, when viewed from a mortal perspective, especially since he watched himself engage in behaviors that he hated when directed at himself, like gods sending mortals on quests without caring about their opinion on the matter, or threatening to kill mortals for no good reason and having mortals believe he might go through with it.

Chapter 2 reinforces the realization from chapter 1, but with added nuance. Before Apollo had only really realized how badly he, himself, had acted. Chapter 2 reminded him that it really WAS typical godly behavior, and that in fact, other gods were often WORSE about treating demigods like crap then he was. It impressed on him the breadth and depth of the problem.

Chapter 3 demonstrated to Apollo - at least partly - WHY the Second Titan War happened, something he didn’t seem to fully understand before. He’d realized that demigods were treated like crap, but he hadn’t really connected it fully to the Titan War. It also showed him that there was hope for the other gods changing and growing, through seeing Hermes reaction to Luke’s death, and hearing Percy’s story about Bob.

Next up, I take into account what Apollo could change to make things better in the future.

This one can be fairly vague. In chapter 1, Apollo vowed to change his behavior, to be more considerate towards demigods, and also to try to make amends to those he’d wronged in the past. Chapter 2, he promised to try and prevent the rest of his family from treating demigods so badly as well. Chapter 3 both reinforced Apollo’s desire to get his divine family to treat their demigod children better, and gave more evidence that it could occur, with Hermes and Bob’s stories. This chapter didn’t really have new themes or realizations as the main theme, but it built on ones from previous chapters that I didn’t think had been adequately explored.

Thirdly, I consider what auxiliary realizations and confrontations can reasonably happen in the chapter.

For instance, chapter 1, I was able to put in Apollo freaking out over seeing Artemis and Meg freaking out over seeing Apollo act like the Beast. Chapter 2, Apollo also realized why Piper had thought the gods didn’t care about Jason dying, and started to realize that maybe Bacchus had his own issues. Chapter 3, he was able to really see how much Annabeth had gone though, helped to comfort Meg about Demeter, realized how similar Percy’s promise to Luke was to his own promise to Jason, found out how much he failed Hermes, and reacted to Percy and Annabeth’s time in Tartarus.

Fourth, are these revelations worth the amount of time and energy it takes to write about them?

Like, for Bob, it would take a LONG time to adequately tell his story via flashback, and there wouldn’t be enough payoff in the form of new revelations for my taste. Since I could adequately summarize and still get most of the ‘oomph’ from that story, I did that instead, getting the revelation and someof the reactions I wanted out of it, but without needing to spend tens of thousands of words on it.

So this is why I’m not doing something where Apollo’s just watching some demigod die, for instance. He already knows that demigods die unfairly, it doesn’t tell him anything he doesn’t already have ingrained in his head on its own. It might be interesting to see him react to his children’s deaths, but it needs to change something. 

I do have ideas for some more chapters, fortunately, though with this dratted carpal tunnel, I dunno when I’ll have them out. Except for the April Fool’s Day chapter, I’ll have that one out on time, since it’ll be short. 

This is part of why I have trouble with certain chapters, because I need to meet certain qualifications, since I don’t want them to be shallow, I want each chapter to MEAN something.

I do take suggestions by the way, I just have to run the suggestion through my criteria to see whether it will work. I want to do something with Leo and Apollo, for instance, showing how similar they are, but I’m having trouble meeting the second criteria for it. Still planning on doing it, but I’ll need to figure some stuff out first.

[thelonelyrdr-blog]

Thoughts on the Heroes of Olympus series (Part 3)

(The ending is somewhat spoiled in this one, so if that bugs you, read with caution.)                      Apparently, yesterday was Percy Jackson's birthday. So he's a Leo. Makes sense, I thought, and set to integrating this piece of trivia with my mental image of Percy, but then I realized that I already knew it from the following exchange in The Blood of Olympus: "Like the zodiac sign?" Percy asked. "I'm a Leo." "No, stupid," Leo said, "I'm a Leo. You're a Percy." The bad puns in this series are so real, guys. Anyway, given that it was Percy's birthday, it would've been neat if I could've posted this review yesterday, but alas, I just didn't have the energy after work. But hey, my lateness won't stop me from tagging this post with #happybirthdaypercy in a shameless attempt to increase my readership. Happy Birthday, Percy! I know you won't mind my using your birthday as a marketing tool.   The Blood of Olympus  Reyna and Nico are by far my favorite parts of this book, both separately and as a pair, but especially as a pair. Both are characters with deeply traumatic pasts who feel a respect and kinship for one another that eventually evolve into familial affection. Hazel may be Nico’s sister in name, but Reyna seems closer to filling Bianca’s role as big sister to Nico: whereas, historically, Nico has had to protect and guide Hazel, Reyna is someone who will not only do the same for him, but who will also worry for him. She has the magical ability to literally empathize with his need, as a boy who has lost a mother and an older sister, to feel cared for and considered, and is therefore uniquely qualified to respond to it. Nico’s bonds with both Reyna and Hazel, though, are beautiful.  As for Reyna herself, as much as I love all of the female characters in both this series and the original, in my estimation, she's the best, simply by virtue of being the most complex. Riordan's skill with developing characters through their internal struggles shines in Reyna's chapters. Let's not kid ourselves like the other characters do: she killed her father, even if it was in self-defense and even if he'd degenerated into a mania, giving her what is certainly the darkest backstory of any character in this series and probably of any character in any middle-grade series ever. I'm surprised that the publisher didn't insist on cutting the murder, though Riordan does gloss over its moral ambiguity somewhat. Nico's pretty terrifying in that one scene, too, and in his case, Reyna and Coach Hedge fully acknowledge the immorality of his actions. You all know the scene I'm referring to, or will if and when you read this book. Can I get some Dark!PercyxDark!Nico fanfics in addition to the Dark!Percy ones I already tried to commission in my previous blog post? (Oh, and if you're wondering about my thoughts on Reyna's sexuality, as I know many have imagined her as gay or bisexual, I personally ship her with herself regardless of her sexual preferences. To be clear, I have nothing against either interpretation of her character, but I got a little disenchanted with every character being or wanting to be in a serious romantic relationship as the series progressed. There are single teenagers, you know. I was one of them.) Before I conclude my discussion of Nico and Reyna, though, I have to mention the scene where Nico finally confesses to Percy that he once had a crush on him. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one cheering for him and wishing that I could be that cool while simultaneously laughing at Percy’s confusion and Annabeth’s amusement. And oh man, that high five between Annabeth and Nico. Perfect.  But it's time that I commented on Leo’s happy ending, in which he fulfills his role in the prophecy by dying (but not really) and keeping his oath to Calypso to free her from Ogygia.  Their whole relationship is comprised of moments of subtle tenderness, but the line in the last chapter that struck me most was:  “Leo Valdez,” she said. Nothing else - just his name, as if it were something magical.  I fangirled when I read that line, and the entire last chapter, for two reasons. The first is that, no matter how I try to deny the tendency in myself, I’m a hopeless romantic (yes, I’m a hopeless romantic who doesn’t read straight romance and who wants to see more single characters in middle-grade and YA novels. Everyone has their contradictions) who was invested in this couple from the start. However, the second reason pertains to Leo’s character. He’s the “seventh” wheel of the group, who’s spent the whole series doubting his own merits and developing crushes on girls who either take no interest in him or take no interest in him and seem interested in one of his friends instead. To be fair, one of these girls is a villain anyway, but her rejection still validates Leo’s insecurities. Even Calypso herself has a history with another of the Seven (Percy) and initially reacts to Leo's arrival on Ogygia as though it were a cruel joke of the gods'. The fact that the other characters largely disregard Leo - even I've ignored him until now, ironically, despite how hilarious I found his dialogue and narration - is what makes Riordan’s positioning him as the hero of the series so emotionally and narratively satisfying. He forms a plan to defeat Gaea without even consulting the others (might it be said that his inherited tendency to work independently and in isolation, which he and dad Hephaestus both perceive as a flaw, is what enables him to save the world?); he breaks Calypso's curse without leaning on the gods or on Percy's bargain with them. He goes from being the most overlooked of the Seven to someone whose very name inspires awe (and you can't tell me that Calypso's awe results solely from romantic feeling - I'm sure that, when she utters that line, she's also thinking of how Leo is the first and only person to manage to free her, to even remember her after leaving Ogygia). His is an underdog story done right. Overall As I hope you've gathered from my individual comments on each book, there's a lot to appreciate in this series: it's by turns light and funny and dark and morally ambiguous; it's smart and subtly overturns stereotypes and prejudices; and, perhaps most importantly, it's full of likable, relatable characters who feel distinct and real. It's self-aware too: as in the original series, Riordan raises the question - here, most notably in Arachne's version of her myth - of whether the gods are truly good or merely better than the alternatives of Gaea and the Titans; whether theirs is the side the demi-gods would willingly choose or merely the one they happen to be on because of their parentage. It's not often in children's adventure stories that the heroes consider that the villains may have a valid moral point, and beyond that, one that invalidates theirs. Even the last two Harry Potter books don't go as far with humanizing and demonizing Voldemort and Dumbledore, respectively. Unfortunately, the narrative does not adequately answer this question or many of the others that it raises. Take, as another example, Percy's "fatal flaw," loyalty, which I noted in Part 1 of my review never seems to result in negative consequences for either the Seven or the quest, despite being talked up by both gods and monsters throughout the series. Were the repeated warnings about it supposed to be foreshadowing Percy's decision to fall into Tartatus with Annabeth? If so, that makes no sense, as at least one demi-god was needed on each side of the Doors of Death, anyway, and Percy and Annabeth were obviously more successful as a team than either would've been alone. Or, as is more likely, was Percy's "fatal flaw" part of a larger plot thread that was dropped due to time and space constraints? But if that's the case, then why couldn't the first two books in the series have been condensed into one, or the series extended to include six or seven books? Surprisingly, considering how tightly plotted the original series was, the plot in this series fizzles to near nonexistence by the end of The Blood of Olympus, the tension building inconsistently as the climax approaches. Compared to the final battle in The Last Olympian, which engrossed me even more than the Battle of Hogwarts did (fellow Harry Potter fans, you don't have to call me a traitor; I assure you, I already feel like one), the stakes in the battle against Gaea and her army seemed the equivalent height of those in a fight involving elementary school children wielding sticks. Riordan's failure to deliver in this respect was especially glaring considering that he'd promised readers not one major battle in The Blood of Olympus, but two. Instead we get a one-on-one fight between Reyna and Orion that feels more internally than externally resonant and forestalls Major Battle #1, the Roman attack on the Greeks, before it even begins; a fight with the earthborn during which no one but Jason is really needed, as he's shown to be tremendously overpowered; and a fight between Leo and Gaea, which should've been Major Battle #2 but which is over within a page or two. The characters reiterate throughout the series how powerful Gaea is and how much more substantial of a threat she is than the Titans, but even the lowest monster in Tartarus was scarier and took longer to defeat. Hell, the Minotaur in The Lightning Thief would've been a worthier opponent for our heroes. The only explanation I can think of for the disappointing finish to this series is, again, that Riordan must have run out of time or space to give readers a proper final battle (though he hinted at two, I would've settled for one). Or possibly steam.   Still, although the series as a whole has a rushed and sloppy quality to it, I would still highly recommend it, both for the reasons listed above and for its resemblance to fanfiction. Yes, sadly, only in fanfiction would I expect to read a continuation of Percy Jackson's story with as many minority as white demi-god protagonists, whose cultures, used respectfully by Riordan, inform rather than define their identities; a gay character who is revealed to be in love with the protagonist of the first series; and an emphasis on female empowerment and the glorification of the feminine. There’s even a character -  arguably the most physically attractive of the Seven, might I add - who discovers that he needs glasses! I was shocked, albeit pleasantly so, to find a published series containing all of these elements, and I'm not even gay or a minority. If you pick up these books for the representation alone, you won't regret it.     But that won’t be necessary: there are a multitude of other fun reasons. 

[nickireadstfc]

The Foxhole Court, Chapter 11 – Orange Sportsball Gets The Fuck Real

In which the Foxes play their first match of the season, I have questions about American college sports, my Percy Jackson obsession has a brief cameo, and I’m sadly less excited about Actual Sportsball Games than I should be.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Foxhole Court.

           Thursday’s excitement had nothing on Friday’s. The whole school got decked out overnight with vibrant orange and white streamers. Ribbons and banners hung off every sidewalk lamp. Live student bands took over the amphitheater for short concerts and the student newspaper released that morning gave details for the afternoon parade.

Is that, like…………. Normal behavior on game days?? Actual American high school/college students, please confirm. Is this an actual thing???

I mean, I know y’all are big on sports and school spirit, but this big??

Please understand my confusion: At my school, no one fucking gave a shit about the sports teams. I didn’t even know when anyone had games/competitions unless we got told afterwards who won what brilliant award now, and even then like 5% of us cared. And I can’t speak for my uni yet, but I’m pretty sure it’s the same there as well. Do German unis even have sports teams?

I always liked to make fun of High School Musical 3 for having those giant ass banners displaying the athletes hanging in the halls. I am now starting to realize that might be perfectly normal for American schools.

What the fuck.

Also, Neil officially came out now – as a member of the Foxes, that is, of course.

           Neil wanted to cut class and hide at Fox Tower until game time, but athletes weren’t allowed to call out without a legitimate medical excuse. Someone from the athletics committee went around all day counting heads through classroom windows, and Wymack would be the first to hear Neil was absent.

They seriously stalk their students all day in fear they might be skipping class? And these students are in college, they are grown adults, not 14-year-olds. Again, is this a thing, what the fuck??

Then again, we’re talking about the country who invented hall passes. This is probably not the craziest thing around.

Fortunately, the Foxes decide to display their first sign of group solidarity in these trying times and guide Neil from class to class. This is a really small detail, but I love it.

I’m imagining Neil as a lil baby duck who obediently follows a big spikey-haired Matt duck, a small white-pastel-y Renee duck or a glamorous blonde Allison duck, wagging behind them in a tiny duck-sized jersey.

Although, when you think about it, they’re all just lil baby ducks following a big Wymack momma duck.

(Someone draw me fanart, I’m BEGGING YOU.)

I’m getting off track. Back to the plot.

           Andrew hadn’t lied to Neil back in May. In almost every article that talked of Neil’s pathetic experience Kevin was quoted as having high hopes for him. Kevin really had said that Neil would one day be Court.

Because this is the second time this has come up: What exactly does “being Court” mean?? Like, being Captain? Being MVP? Also, is this a regular sports expression or is is Exy-exclusive? Exyclusive?? Help.

A small silver lining of future hilariousness appears on the horizon: An Exy kickoff banquet is going to happen sometime in the next few chapter, and I am HYPED. This chaotic mess of a team + all their rivals + dates + drinks can only equal a Massive Fun Time™.

Fun for us, not for them, might I add. I am dying to see this.

           “[Renee] hasn’t asked [Andrew] yet, but it’s inevitable. (…) Money’s on the table as to whether or not he says yes. Pot’s getting pretty big, so get your bet in fast.”

           The only thing the Foxes had in common besides Exy and hardship was their strange obsession with betting on the stupidest things. Neil had figured that out only two weeks into practice. A week didn’t go by when there wasn’t money on something or another.

A team after my own heart <3 Can I join? I can never find anyone to bet on dumb things in my own circle of friends.

Will I throw this piece of paper in the bin on my first shot? Will the bus be late? Will Friend A and B hook up tonight? Will I lose my (nonexistent) emotional sanity to this series before the last book is over?

I don’t know about the others, but the last one is 100% happening.

           “There’s something we haven’t told you yet,” Dan said. (…) “So Andrew’s technically legally required to take his medication, right? (…) He struck a bargain of his own with Coach. The only reason he signed with us is because Coach agreed to let him come off his drugs for game nights.”

Is this supposed to come as a big plot twist? Because I kind of saw that coming. 10 bucks says Andrew comes off his meds for all Important Moments.

*insert yet another rant about the negative portrayal of mental health meds as barbaric mind-numbing, mania-inducing ~happy pills~ here*

Anyways, back to game day!! Our beloved foxy nutcases are playing against the Breckenridge Jackals, which is shaping up to be a Fun Time™ as they are apparently the biggest bullies around (second only to the Edgar Allan Murder Mob Clique, of course).

However, when faced with his impending wipe-out on the court, our favourite Sassmaster McSavage reaches new levels of Hell Fuckin Yeah:

           “[Gorilla] will break every bone in your body if you give him the chance.”

           “Don’t worry, though,” Matt said. “He’ll probably be too busy killing Kevin and Seth to notice you.”

           “This is my reassured face,” Neil said, pointing up at his blank expression.

SAVAGE.

I actually laughed so hard at that. This is some Percy Jackson level of sass right there.

Come to think about it, I want the entire AFTG series narrated by Percy Jackson, especially the chapter titles.

“I Am Offered A Foxy Deal”

“My Troubled Past Comes Back To Haunt My Ass”

“I Get Dragged Into Some Gay Shit”

“We Kick Serious Jackal Butt, Sort Of”

Remind me to make a full post of that once I’ve finished the series.

Off topic again. Sorry.

Before we finally begin the actual match (and wow, it’s 1.1k words already), Nicky seems to finally get the mental slaps I’ve been sending him since a few chapters ago:

           Nicky looked at Neil. “Hey,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant. “We haven’t really had a chance to talk after… Well. I wanted to say sorry, but I kept chickening out. Are we okay?”

           “I don’t know yet,” Neil said.

           Nicky weighed that for a minute, then sighed and said, “Fair enough.”

Deep sigh. Who are we kidding, I can never resist a self-aware comic relief, Nicky, you’re still one of my faves. At least he knows he fucked up.

And now, finally: It’s Orange Sportsball time!!

Time for fast-paced sports action, balls flying, racquets hitting, body-checks left and right, a flurry of energy and emotion… that I simply can’t get behind.

I’m sorry, you guys, but I found myself having to double- and triple-read passages here in order to keep up with who is standing where, who is passing to whom and just generally what exactly is going on. Maybe it has to do with my own lack of interest for any sports involving balls (or actually any sports that isn’t dance, cheer, or anything involving performance), but I’m not really excited about this whole game part, to put it mildly.

Don’t get me wrong: I am loving the emotions attached to it. Solidarity, passion, group dynamics and character development shown on the field, give me all that good shit. I just couldn’t care less about who’s passing to who. Forgive me.

Did someone say passion and group dynamics?

           Neil’d watched his teammates fall apart to in-fighting all summer long, but now he finally saw them as a whole. As much as the Foxes disliked each other at times, they disliked their opponents more. They were still too fractured to be truly great, but they were good enough to give him chills.

This is shaping up to be good, you guys.

I can only imagine the sheer gloriousness in the upcoming books when Kandreil finally get their shit together and play on the field as a beautiful unstoppable three-way killing machine. I WILL DIE.

Twenty minutes into the game, Seth is crushed against a wall by three hundred pounds of pure douchebaggery – and I actually do feel sorry for him, not gonna lie – which means it’s time for the moment we’ve all been waiting for:

           “Going on for Seth Gordon is freshman Neil Josten, number ten, of Millport, Arizona.”

           Neil wondered if casket lids sounded like court doors being shut.

Ah yes, thank you for reminding me, even in the face of impending doom, how incredibly extra our boy Josten is.

           “A national champion and an amateur? South Carolina’s gotten even crazier than usual.”

           “An amateur and a cripple, you mean,” the dealer said.

           Andrew slammed his racquet against the goal, making several athletes jump and drawing more than a few wary looks his way.

This is such a small detail but it’s the /best/. Nobody insults my boyfriends in front of me, fuckface.

Bla bla bla more sports bla bla, I’m putting everything remotely interesting that’s happening in a bullet list because let’s be honest, it’s not fucking much.

Neil scores! Twice! Good boy.

Matt takes a card for the team by punching the fuck out of Gorilla, what a babe.

Also, his mom is a professional boxer? When can we meet her. I’m always a sucker for strong women who could kick my ass.

Gorilla has been hitting Kevin’s hand on purpose all the time, which is not cool, yet not surprising, ain’t no honour in Exy injuries, apparently.

That is it, my dudes.

Writing the next chapter on a coach (yet again) as I’ll be visiting some friends in NRW, so I’ll be coming to you live from my Prime Flixbus Office Space, let’s see how that works out. Till next time, ily all. <3

[tardytothepardy]

I've been rereading Nico's wiki page, and honestly I'm yet again astounded at the layers of shit Rick plunged Nico into.

Like, how much of that was really necessary? I almost feel like the shit Nico went through was ridiculous. Why did he go into Tartarus alone? Why was it mentioned that the literal goddess of misery herself looked at Nico and went, "lol you're my poster child bc you are the d e f i n i t i o n of misery"? Was that really needed? It's not exactly like anyone wouldn't believe that he was sad (to say the least) without bringing that up.

I mean, he still could've been a lonely, miserable character, fighting to be worthy in Hades' eyes (which does happen in Last Olympian, good job everyone), with just the stuff that happens in the first series.

But no. For whatever reason, Rick continued grinding Nico into a watery paste, to the point that, like I said, I find almost ridiculous.

That's not even mentioning my... discomfort, I guess, at the descriptions of Nico in the books, like he's steadily turning into a skeleton, what with him being super thin (he kinda gets a free pass on the thin thing after Mark of Athena given that he was literally sustaining himself with pomegranate seeds that put him in a coma, from what I remember), and his complexion being 'bone-white', or something like that? I just,,,, idk, I kinda feel weird about that particular description. Apparently, as of The Hidden Oracle, he still has that bone white skin tone.

Which doesn't make sense to me for one main reason: he's participating at least a little bit in things at Camp Halfblood, which I've taken to be a place with a lot of outdoor things (canoes, track running or something, the ever-present lava climbing wall, the dining pavilion has no roof, etc.) so he's either just burning up in the sunlight but not getting any darker, OR reality hops into the driver's seat and he gets darker from being out in the sun. There's also that thing about him being Italian, and from the limited information I've gathered, Europeans in general aren't really paste-y white people. (I feel endlessly awkward and self conscious bringing it up but I'm aware that it's a thing)

^^^That's a whole tangent, but still I just am dumbfounded by the shit Rick put Nico through, and seeing that he and Will are apparently going to feature in Tower of Nero, I kinda worry about whatever else is gonna happen to him.

I consider his arc (and story, basically) to be kinda finished after Blood of Olympus, but I'm still anticipating something happening to Nico that I might find entirely unnecessary. For example, are his shadow-travel powers just gone now? I would kinda hope not! I mean, sure, they might connect him to stuff happening as far back as him cracking open the earth in Titan's Curse, to nearly dying from over-working his powers in Battle of the Labyrinth (yeah he's done that twice), to pulling Bryce (or whatever his name was) into the Underworld itself and nearly dying/becoming a shadow after transporting a huge ass statue across a FUCKING OCEAN, carrying along two other people, like good fuck Rick can you give him a break? Invent a therapy service for demigods and have Nico (and doubtless many other people) go to therapy because he needs it! Forget the 'Nico Protection Squad', I'm going for the 'Nico gets a break squad'.

I just find the idea of Nico losing his powers to be dumb. Like, after all the shit that Percy did, he still keeps his powers. To be fair, he's never really took it to the extent that Nico did, but still. I can't really say much about Thalia or Jason, because I kinda don't remember any instances of either of them going fuckin berserk on their powers the way that Percy did (notably in Last Olympian with him controlling his own mini hurricane) or Nico.

I mean, if Rick is gonna take away his ability to shadow travel, he better put Mrs. O'Leary back in the story. Mrs. O'Leary was amazing and probably one of the better things that happened to Nico. She deserves a comeback.

I can just imagine some scene of Nico using an aspect of his powers in front of Apollo and Apollo gets freaked out or whatever and Nico's just like, "Yeah that's a thing I can do what about it."

Anyway I just want Nico to get a break. A lot of people in this series need breaks. It seems to me that Percy, Annabeth, Grover, Thalia even, Reyna, Frank, Hazel, Piper, Leo, Calypso, Jason whoops, all these people are getting their own little happily-ever-afters, and for Nico it's like 'He loses his powers and gets an opposites-attract boyfriend and vibes at Camp' (nothing against Will he's fine but that's kinda what he is, at least in the physical appearance sense) and that might be enough, but I guess I'd like some kind of acknowledge of the fact that Nico isn't even 15 and the majority of his life thus far has been a literal nightmare.

(to tie my personal experience and revealing my personal bias towards nico if it wasn't already clear, i hope that his life can kinda pan out like mine has: so much shit i doubt i'll really ever be able to share with more than like, 3 people, but eventually everything eases out into normalcy, and though he'll almost certainly never forget what happened in his life, he can kinda put it aside -with some of that demigod therapy amiright I am right- he can try to get a new starting point for his life. A new chapter, as cliche as that sounds.)

Wow this entire thing barely mentions Bianca or Hazel I just noticed that.

[whenthemarshmallowmettheslayer]

Favorite fics you ever written?

Warning this a long post because I've written a lot of fics.

For Harry Potter:

1.) The Definition of Good. Summary:  After Chamber of Secrets Harry gives Dobby a place to stay. Everything changes.

2.)  Keep it simple, keep it safe. That's all you can do when it's too late. Summary: Harry smiled; it didn't reach his mom's eyes. "There's no need to call me sir professor," Harry quipped once again. This Harry knew. This Harry could take and dare he say it? Liked. Or rather, he liked it compared to the alternative despite his hatred towards the greasy haired wizard before him.

(Harry can't help but remember the chocolate cake slices and hours of looking at photos of Mrs.Figg's cats, the warm - to the point he feels as though they may burn him - embraces from Mrs. Weasley, Dumbledore's soft spoken promises and words that might as well be empty, of Sirius' offer of Harry living with him just gone in a blink of eye because he fell into a veil Harry's godfather could not come out of.)

For Percy Jackson:

1.) I scream too loud when I speak my mind. Summary: Percy Jackson does not accidentally vaporize his pre-algebra teacher and everything else that happens afterward. (I've actually loved writing all the parts of the series but I'm only including this one.)

For Death Note:

1.) To be a Queen. Summary: It's that the queens (Misa, only Misa, because Misa the idiot sees what no one else sees. L says he doesn't swing that way but L wants Light, Kira, but Light is Kira therefore the other king. So duh he can't be L's queen no matter what that pevert wants.) in chess are the most powerful pieces despite the kings (Ryuzaki and Light) being the most important. Because without the king (Kira and L) there's no game, if you defeat the other king you win; Kira wins and he will.

2.) Game over. Summary: Instead of replying to baby Kira Matt takes the cigarette out of his mouth and with a smile (it's weird to smile because Matt never really smiles and it's probably a real ugly ass sight to see) throws his last cigarette onto the Death Note.

Game Over, he thinks and just walks off without so much a word. He wonders briefly what's next. With Light it's easy (boring even). He'd follow his dear dad's footsteps and become a police officer. Probably the best and maybe he'll meet L. Those two assholes deserved each other, Matt decided, but what about him?

(Or the universe gives Matt a restart after dying and he sadly uses his last cigarette on the Death Note.)

For Tokyo Ghoul:

1.) There's a ghost in my lungs. Summary: A series of non-linear conversations where Haise learns about his past, how he became who he was, and people that Kaneki loved. (Haise time travels to the beginning of Tokyo Ghoul. I've only posted one chapter so far.)

For Jessica Jones/Alias:

1.) Rest in pieces our youth (so we might glue it back together again). Crossover with Spiderman Homecoming. Summary: Jessica Campbell and Peter Parker are least likely of friends ever since Jessica came back to school.

For Fullmetal Alchemist:

1.) I've got questions. Summary: Edward smiled thinly, something viscous but not ugly (never ugly, not when it came to her) was the look in his feral eyes.

"Rose," gently, Ed thought, like she was Al or Winry when they were doing stupid shit, "that was a list that represented the complete chemical makeup of a human body for the average adult. It had been calculated to the last microgram, but still there has never been one reported case of successfully creating a human life."

Some people put their faith in gods to be able to live their life; some, like him, lived their life to achieve a goal. There had once been a time when Ed use to pray with mom. He had even prayed after mom had died but had stopped a long time ago.

It wasn't the constant frustration of loose ends (till now, Edward thought, Cornello's ring on his mind). No, he had stop praying even before that. It wasn't even the bastard's sharp jabs that were constant; always there as though Edward would ever let himself forget. What an idiot; how'd that man ever become a Colonel? Besides obviously burning children and women to death that corpses he climbed on to get to the top of the military.

2.) (What is) insanity but the ability to draw the perfect circle? Summary: There's a creak in a board behind him and he whirls around, hands ready to clap. It's Scar. Again there is a difference. Well differences technically. That makes his hand hover, pausing him from clapping. Scar, wearing glasses while inside on a rainy day, stares at the sight before him.

He should take a picture. It'll last longer.

"Are you Edward Elric the Fullmetal State Alchemist?"

Maybe it's because someone has actually him if he's Edward that he answers honestly. "No."

Or Edward is okay with suggesting to partner up with Scar to kill his Fuhrer (who might not be a homunculus in this universe) but isn't okay with Nina going in the rain and getting a cold.

For Star Wars:

1.) Love of a daughter. Summary: "and yet, so far at least we have yet to figure out what you gain from this." It's a question as well as statement. A chance to explain, to come clean on why she - a unknown Sith- had assassinated they're precious, beloved Chancellor (what fools). But how could you come clean when there is so much blood on her hands? Never-mind the sins and blood on Vader and Luke's when her family had been alive.

When she answers it's not because she's announcing her transgressions in hope that her heavy, dirty soul might be saved. One couldn't repent when they didn't feel guilt in their sin.

"For the love of a daughter." Leia pauses and looks back at Anakin and thinks: I did this to avenge you. After thinking that Leia says one more thing - the last thing actually because she nothing else to say after this.

"And you should have been more careful electing your Chancellor. You never know who is Sith." This has double meaning but she's the only person who knows it.

And she's fine with that (no, she isn't).

Leia wonders if her younger self and Luke will ever become the monsters like her Luke had been and the monster she is.

2.) When dreams come true (which they often do when Anakin Skywalker dreams them). Summary:It happens in the day, in the light. A dark masked man with heavy breath that was killing the slave owners and freeing the slaves. No one - not even the Hutts, who were now dead- could stop the droid looking man.

That doesn’t surprise Anakin though. Anakin had seen the stranger’s blade that coated the sands with different colors of blood. A red lightsaber. The man was a Jedi and he had come to free them.

(Or young Anakin's dream comes true just not in the way he dreamt it.)

3.) Nobody does it like Artoo. Summary: Because the droid had just killed Chancellor Palpatine. The man who was the closest thing Anakin had to father.

“Artoo please tell why you just killed Chancellor Palpatine?” He asks, in soft calm voice. He needs to keep a level head. Needs to be the Jedi many claim he cannot be. Deep breathe in. Deep breathe out. He could be calm when all he wanted to do was try to find the person who responsible for rewiring Artoo and show him/or her why it was a bad idea to touch his droid and make his droid kill a person he loved.

Artoo beeps his answer and Ana-

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN PAlPATINE IS DARTH SIDIOUS AND THAT YOU’RE FROM THE FUTURE!?”

4.) Of time travel and relationship blocking. Summary: But he knows the universe is better off by Artoo's travel in time. Palpatine is dead. Artoo had killed the Sith Master that had destroyed too much of his humans’ lives. There was no Empire and Darth Vader did not exist. The twins were raised by their creators. All was good except Leia was coming to age of no longer a child yet not an adult.

Which meant other human boys were becoming attracted to future Senator. Human boys who were not Han Solo. It was becoming rather frustrating - to the point Artoo felt like rolling into a wall- but at least Anakin agreed that these human boys did not belong with his creation. (Sequel to the fic above. Never did write more chapters for this fic but I do adore it.)

For Star Trek:

1.) I appreciate your enthusiasm, but Kodos will not be in this production. Summary: This was not how Jim imagined telling Bones about Tarsus IV. Actually that was a lie. Jim had planned to never tell Bones about Tarsus IV. But so is the life of Jim Kirk (also known as James T. Kirk, JT, Captain, and t'hy'la to Spock and Ambassador Spock who both had yet to tell him what that word meant. A childish part of Jim thinks that Hoshi would tell him if she was still alive before his mood darkens. The memories - the guilt - of that day flashes before his eyes and God does Jim hate drugs.).

2.)  Logically speaking. Summary: "Say mother had been," there had been a pause as Spock tried to find the right words to convey his question, "say mother went through unnecessary strife during her adolescent years and somehow you ended up in the past. Do you allow for her to face this to persevere an already faulted timeline or do you save her?"

By then, Amanda had made her way to her husband side so she could look into Spock's eyes. The question was odd and admittedly out there but her son's eyes said otherwise. Spock's eyes could be compared to an open book and that book told Amanda that this somehow was serious and her son was torn.

(Or the backstory on how Spock sort-of got permission from his father to steal a ship from the Vulcan Science Academy through Amanda Grayson's eyes.)

3.) I prefer to have my nightmares with open eyes. Crossover with Black Butler. Summary: Jimmy, JT, James Tiberius Kirk (whoever the hell he truly is) knows what it's like to adapt just to stay alive, to be whoever he needed to be just to survive. Just to eat.

It makes him laugh and JT doesn't know this but he reminds the demon (Sebastian he once was called and will take the name, the mask, of once again) of another young boy who the world had destroyed. Who had laugh a bitter laugh because that was all he could do. Crying, after all, did nothing. (Maybe one day I will write that Shinigami!Jim fic. If I ever do I will gift it to ShortyKatezey.)

4.) I need you, I need you, I need you right now. Don't leave me alone. Summary: It doesn’t matter in the end that this universe’s blue eyed James T. Kirk isn’t Spock Prime’s Jim. He still feels Jim-so familiar to his Captain, his Admiral, his Jim, his thyla yet so differnet, so angry, so broken - death.

It should have been me (it had been him in his universe) is Spock’s first thought after he momentarily gets over the wave, the crash of emotions he feels. His next thought is: I am not fine. (This is Spock Prime reacting to Jim's death in Into Darkness.)

5.) Of bored school boys and a death god. Crossover with Death Note. Summary: Ryuk drops the Death Note and a bored but brilliant beyond his years teenage boy picks it up. Sound familiar? Except it's not. JT is many things but a God complex isn't one of them.

For The Vampire Diaries:

1.) When did you dance with death? Summary: When did they all die? When did this become their lives? Was Damon to blame? Stefan to be blamed? Was Katherine to blame? Or Klaus to blame? Were Klaus' parents to blame for trying to keep their kids alive and eventually making them into monsters? Whose to blame for the fact they're all murders instead of simply, normal teenager?

And you know what? They're going to be dead for sure instead of just their morality and innocence having kicked the bucket. There's no vampire blood in their system that could cure them from what Klaus will inflict; Katherine ran from Klaus for hundreads of years and her family was slaughtered just because she wanted to live. They had killed Kol - Klaus' own brother - and trapped him with the burnt corpse.

2.) Revenge is best served with condoms. Summary: "I know who you are. You're the tasty little thing my older brother has come to truly fancy." Tasty little thing. Caroline froze; those words replaying in her head except in British accent (the only accent she truly had thing for).

For Yuri on Ice:

1.) The downside of love. Summary: Soulmates that share the bruises on their other's skin can have a downside if you haven't met them yet. Katsuki Yuuri learns this the hard way.

[afandomqueen101blog]

The Heroes of Olympus: The Son of Neptune: A Book Review

The Heroes of Olympus: The Son of Neptune Book Review

(SPOILER ALERT WARNING)

AUTHOR: Rick Riordan

RELEASED DATE: October 11, 2011

SERIES: Heroes of Olympus

PAGES: Approx. 513 pages

RATING: 5/5 STARS

 PERCY IS BACK!

 From the very first page, I was hooked on the second installment of The Heroes of Olympus series, The Son of Neptune. Much like its predecessor, The Lost Hero, The Son of Neptune is told from 3rd person narrative by three characters; three chapters are told from one character’s POV before switching to the next character and so on. It’s an interesting format and completely different; readers are used to seeing and experiencing the world of gods, demigods and monsters through Percy’s POV only. It’s a refreshing change that makes it easier to not only see action happening from other people’s view point (one of the pluses to having multiple perspectives), but allows us to get to know the new characters Rick Riordan has introduced. And there were plenty of new characters to be introduced in this book.

 As with The Lost Hero, we’re introduced to a character who doesn’t remember who he is, where he came from, how he ended up where he’s currently at, or why; and in order to have his memories returned to him, he needs to go on a quest alongside newfound friends to save an immortal. Only this time, we’re not talking about Jason Grace, the son of Jupiter. We’re talking about Percy Jackson, the son of Poseidon. And the immortal in need of saving? The God of Death.

 *~*~*

 Percy Jackson has never had the best of luck, but even he couldn’t believe the chain of events that followed him since waking up from his long slumber: training with the she-wolf goddess Lupa with a pen-turned-sword; evading vengeful gorgons that never die no matter how many times or ways he kills them; struggling with no memory of his own name and history; living practically as a homeless teenager scavenging for food and essentials as he travels to the only safe haven Lupa explains there is for people like him – a camp for demigod children. Finding the camp isn’t easy when one is chased by immortal monsters and carrying a disguised goddess; things are further complicated when he realizes upon arrival that he is regarded as much a threat and outsider to the campers than he considered the gorgons that followed him cross-country. He perseveres for one reason, for one memory, for one name that Percy is certain must mean a great deal to him, if he was able to retain it above all other memories: Annabeth.

 Hazel Levesque is cursed. Precious gems appear where she is and it’s all she can do to make sure no one touches the diamonds, rubies, emeralds and gold that brings more misery than joy to its finders. If this weren’t bad enough, she struggles with blackouts that force her to relive memories from her life in New Orleans, Louisiana with her mother: the eve of her 13th birthday, when her mother (resentful of Hazel’s curse) succumbs to the bidding of a powerful woman’s voice; the move to Alaska, the land beyond the gods; the months of Hazel abiding by the Voice’s command and using her gift to resurrect a being from the earth itself in exchange for her mother’s safety. However much she wants to forget it, when the quest is set, she knows she has to go. The monster responsible for Death’s capture is the very creature she had helped to resurrect. Without Death, monsters will continue reviving instantly. And this is a wrong that she must correct…even if it means dying. Again.

 Frank Zhang is uncertain of his godly heritage. Being as bulky and clumsy as he is, the only form of fighting he excels at is archery – which doesn’t win him much popularity with the rest of the campers at Camp Jupiter. Worse even than that, he carries with him an object that, if burnt, will ultimately kill him. Haunted by this secret, mourning for his dead mother, plagued by a family legacy he still doesn’t fully understand, and confused by his grandmother’s and late mother’s insistence that he can be anything he wants to be – a “special power” inherited from past heroes – Frank’s only solace is his best friend Hazel. Uncertain if he can truly lead the quest issued from the Roman god Mars, she might be the only one he can trust to tell his greatest secret, his greatest weakness.

 Months have passed since Jason, Piper and Leo have returned from their quest to save Hera. Now comes the tale of the troubles Camp Jupiter has faced in the time since the end of the Titan-God war, and what has happened to the missing son of Poseidon.

 The instant revival of defeated monsters continues to plague the demigod heroes. They certainly plague Percy Jackson, who has been unable to go a day without a monster coming to attack since leaving Lupa’s care. Whatever relief he finds upon entering Camp Jupiter is short-lived, as well; despite having the Roman goddess Juno’s blessing, Percy – as the son of Neptune/Poseidon – finds himself little popularity with the other campers. He also has the distinct feeling he doesn’t belong at Camp Jupiter, whatever else Frank Zhang and Hazel Levesque claim. Being watched by both Reyna, the Praetor of Camp Jupiter with a connection to Percy’s past, and Octavian, the power-hungry Augur, Percy strives to adjust to his new home when circumstances force him and his friends on a quest to save Thanatos, the god of Death. And they must accomplish this before the Feast of Fortuna, or else Camp Jupiter may be struck with misfortune.

 Sailing from San Francisco on a raggedy boat liable to sink at any given moment, it’s a race against time as Percy, Hazel and Frank set out: first to Portland, Oregon, to see a resurrected seer who knows the location of Death; then to Seattle, Washington, to meet with Reyna’s sister, queen of the Amazons; to Frank’s home in Canada to learn the secrets of his family’s power; and then to Alaska, the land beyond the gods’ domain and power. Being on their own (and unable to contact Camp Jupiter for help, if needed), their only aid on their perilous journey comes in the form of a harpy who recites prophecies, and a horse from Hazel’s past. But will that be enough for them to survive the upcoming battle in Alaska? How to succeed, when the last group of demigods who made such a journey, decades earlier, never returned? What sacrifice will Hazel and Frank have to make to free Death? And how long will Percy have to go without his memories?

 *~*~*

 PERCY’S BACK! HE’S RETURNED! PERCY! PERCY! PERCY!

 The Lost Hero was a great start to this new series by Rick Riordan, but The Son of Neptune sealed my love and new-found fanaticism. Not only has everyone’s favorite Seaweed Brain returned (PERCY! PERCY! PERCY!), but we finally get introduced to Camp Jupiter, the other camp for demigods that we readers never knew existed and were more than curious (dare I say, obsessed) to know about, ever since we learned of its existence in the last book. And boy, was I not disappointed by what I discovered and learned.

 Camp Jupiter is both like and unlike Camp Half Blood. They have satyrs (AKA fawns) but they do nothing at this camp besides loiter and beg for food; they have ghosts; they have an entire city called New Rome where demigods can “retire” from quests to go to school, get married, have a family, etc.; they have ghosts; they separate the demigods into battalions based on rank and talent as opposed to parentage; they have ghosts; their leaders (AKA Praetors) are demigod warriors that oversee the safety and running of the entire camp alongside a Senate of  other veteran warriors; they have ghosts; they have an Augur, which is basically a seer who can foretell the future by reading the stuffing from teddy bears, as opposed to real animals like the olden days; and THEY HAVE GHOSTS!

 Again, Rick Riordan has gone above and beyond what I expected of him. I should really learn not to underestimate his ability to mix mythology and history into the modern setting, and giving us characters that are so relatable and enjoyable that it’s near impossible not to fall in love with them. I wasn’t even past the first page of the first chapter before I was reminded, strongly, why I love Percy so much: he is sassiness personified; he never lacks in humor, wit or sarcastic remarks regardless of the situation, and his loyalty, courage, compassion and understanding won over all the occupants of Camp Jupiter just as easily as it won us, the readers, over. I never realized until now just how much I missed reading from his point of view.

 Frank and Hazel, much like Piper and Leo from The Lost Hero, became pleasant surprises. While at first I did think they would be similar to Leo and Piper (which one can argue they still are), it didn’t make me dislike them. Both have their own secrets, their own fears and insecurities and personal histories to overcome on this journey to the north, their own powers to discover and control, and their own weaknesses to accept. Hazel, as far as I know, is the youngest of our heroes, but she doesn’t lack courage or cleverness, and her power, the curse that brought her and her mother misfortune, is a talent that became useful in a way she hadn’t expected (and it was a surprise to us readers, too; that scene in the Amazon factory was beyond funny). Frank, described as a klutz when we first meet him, had a lot to prove but I, again, was shocked at the realization of what his “secret” power was, the one that he inherited from his ancestors, and how that same family history was connected to the gods and their history with the warriors and heroes in the East, notably China. It also made me wonder something: will Rick Riordan ever expand on that particular bit of history, or bring us stories about the warriors and heroes and gods of the Asian population? Well, I guess that’s a question for another day, but I know it will always be in the back of my mind. Just like how this other question will be on my mind: is Frank’s grandmother really dead? I hope not, because in the few scenes when she was present, I got the sense that she was like McGonagall from Harry Potter: strict, clever, stronger than appearance suggests, and able to make grown men and monsters kneel for forgiveness with just a simple glare. I absolutely adore her.

 New gods and goddesses were met and discovered on this journey. I personally enjoyed Iris, the Rainbow goddess, simply because she was so unlike anything I ever imagined. I honestly didn’t know what to expect of her, or what her modern personality would be like, but I certainly didn’t think I could’ve imagined her as I did when she was introduced. That scene when her store is nearly attacked by those monsters? I can’t deny, I laughed out loud at how it played out.

 I laughed as I read through The Son of Neptune, and it’s not because of Percy either. Rick Riordan just surprises you with every character you meet: the gods and goddesses, the monsters, the mortal villains from Greek and Roman myth, and the heroes. He has a way of adding humor to almost any situation and even though it takes a while for the descriptions to materialize in your head, when they do, you can’t un-see them.

 The Son of Neptune wasn’t just funny; it also had a lot of action. It did not lack in battles or tense moments. There were plenty of times that Percy, Hazel and Frank were in a situation and I was trying to figure out, before it actually happened, what they would do to get out of their current dilemma. None of my theories ever panned out because Rick Riordan just surprises you with how the characters manage to defeat, evade or destroy their enemies. The battle in Alaska, with Hazel, Frank and Percy facing off against the giant Alcyoneus and an entire army of ghosts, was both spectacular and nerve-wrecking to read. And then there was the battle with another Giant and another army of monsters at Camp Jupiter, when Percy, Hazel and Frank succeed with their mission and return to San Francisco. Rick Riordan, not only famous for his way of modernizing ancient myths, heroes and deities, was also able to give us enough detail so that we can picture the battles in our head and see and feel for the characters as they face  off against some of their worst enemies.

 And by far, one of my favorite scenes to happen is when Percy faces off against the giant Polybotes, the giant created specifically to oppose Poseidon.

 Now hailed as a hero of New Rome and Camp Jupiter, the truth behind Percy’s parentage – and the existence of Greek demigods – is unveiled to the Senate, Octavian and Reyna, and before any decision can be made on what to do about this piece of information, and whether it’s even possible for the Greeks and Romans to work together to prevail against Gaea and her growing army, word reaches them that a ship is heading their way. A ship, according to the message they received, that has come for Percy, and hails from Camp Half Blood.

 The time has come. It is time for the Greeks and Romans to meet at last, for Jason to return to Camp Jupiter, and for Percy to reunite with his friends. What outcome will this meeting produce, though, for the two camps?

 I can’t wait to find out as I start on the next book, The Mark of Athena.

 And if I can tell you anything about this next book, based on the title alone, it’s this: the seventh – and last – hero of the Great Prophecy to come will be revealed.