#a very maze-like arena

[poutpoutlilith]

Just had a weirdly hot dream and it has inspired a new fic I think that I shall begin writing immediately. Spoiler for the concept in the tags. But holy fuck. Thisss was. Something.

[yanderenightmare]

Aemond Targaryen

♡ TW: arranged marriage, implied incest, HOTD in general

♡ fem reader

Aemond took Vhagar, and you took his eye for it. It became the day your family tore down the middle. Your mother, heir to the throne, retreated with all of you back to Dragonstone, where you’d been hiding for a longer time—once again leaving Kingslanding in the hands of its dying King and the surrounding Greens.

You think it’s all the same, really—you’d rather stay away from that place anyway. Of course, you regret having taken your uncle’s eye. It was, after all, not even your fight—nor was it very ladylike. But you can blame your mother for that. She never taught you temperance—or any manners at all, for that sake. Still, blinding one’s own family isn’t right. And yet, it’s a sin you learn to live with over the years spent removed from its victim.

On Dragonstone, you’re free—on dragonback, for the most part. You’d long left the matters of the court to your brothers. Jace was the one who’d be King after your mother, while Luke would be Lord of Driftmark, and you’d stay here—on Dragonstone. By yourself and to yourself. You’d still have to marry, of course, there’s no way around it—but like your mother, you’d get to choose for yourself. That much, you have no doubt.

If you could, you’d always stay on Dragonstone, isolated from anywhere else, but it seems, once again, Kingslanding calls for your return. The King has taken a turn for the worse, and with it, your mother has grown wary of her claim. And so, the heir to the throne and her family along with her were all to voyage home.

You sigh as you look at the approaching castle. It’s not how you remember it, but whether it’s uglier or smaller or something else entirely isn’t clear to you as you watch from the ship. When all this bickering and uncertainty would end, you couldn't know but hoped it would be soon so that you could return swiftly. In a way and in a thought you would never voice out loud, the King’s death would bring about a much-needed calm in your family. Your mother would take the throne as is her birthright, and all else would be put to rest.

Oddly, no one came to welcome you when you arrived. Even your red Targaryen banners had turned green in your absence, as if the groundskeepers had neglected their duties and let the weeds grow as they pleased. No doubt, it would be yet another troubling topic over dinner.

But not one you’d bother yourself with. You make your way to refamiliarize yourself with the grounds instead—walking down a hundred turning memory lanes in the castle as if trying to find the center of a maze. You remember why you left this place—barren halls, all filled with nothing but the whispers of your hair color not being silver. Such things didn’t reach across the waters—they couldn’t touch you back on Dragonstone. Being back doesn’t feel much like a homecoming at all—more like a return to something foreign—even though that makes little sense.

You tell your assigned kingsguard to escort you to your chambers, but on the way, you hear the chimes of something more compelling. And following it, you find yourself on the balcony of the training arena.

And oh—you hardly recognize him. Tall and lean, all riddled with taut muscles he’s sharpened like the blade held in his grip. His hair is neatly combed, long, and perfectly silver like moonlight off a lake. The only thing disrupting it is the black leather patch covering his eye. And while you watch him swing his sword all so mercilessly but with a certain grace you’ve never before seen, you can't help but imagine you're the straw doll he's practicing on.

His eye meets yours without warning. One moment, he’s focused on his training and the next, he’s zeroed in on you.

You can’t help but flinch, skirting back as if the railing had suddenly burnt you. And then, well, shamefully, you very nearly ran away—skittering back into the maze as though wanting to find someplace to hide.

You want to return to Dragonstone. More than a yearning now, it’s almost a must. You’re nearly fetching your dragon from the pit to leave immediately, but you know that wouldn’t be proper. Your mother would be upset with you, and you’re not one to disappoint her. She has enough worries as is. You wouldn't make yourself one of them. And so you stay.

Your maids bathe you and then help you get dressed. And then you join the rest of your family for supper—dreading the presence you’d felt earlier, knowing he’d be there as well.

You keep your gaze fixed on your meal, and yet you can feel his one-eyed stare from across the dinner table. Neither of you looks anywhere else. And neither of you speak.

Aegon says many things—none of which you hear—though, possibly slights about your origin. It seems he and your brothers are arguing. But it’s nothing new. The King, your grandfather, the poor old man, shares words of family and love to defuse the tension once and for all. But you can’t agree—not when the one-eyed glare feels to lash out at you like the fire of an untamed dragon.

The Queen, of all people, salutes your mother. It seems genuine enough. And still, you don’t feel her sons share in her show of respect.

Jace rises and offers Helena to dance—ever the dutiful son. Luke follows in his lead and offers the same to Rhaena. And then, much to the twist of your own empty stomach—your plate of food untouched—Aegon also rises and takes a drunken step in your direction.

Still, he’s the lesser of two evils around the table. But shortly after taking his second step, he’s beaten to the punch by said greater evil. His hand reaches out, yet you don’t dare acknowledge the offer. Coated in goosebumps, you feel frozen.

“Didn’t you hear the King, dear niece?” he speaks—lowly in a hush. “The family feud has been resolved now. We ought to usher in its newfound peace while it lasts. You and I more than anyone. Take my hand and let us dance atop grievances, dead and buried.”

You recognize the threat in his words. To deny him would mean rejecting said peace. And so, with a deep exhale, you lay your hand in his death grip and follow him to the floor. And now you really feel no different from that battered straw doll in the arena.

“You’ve grown up rather beautifully since last we saw each other,” he says.

You know you ought to utter a thank you, but no words dare escape the choke of your throat as he positions an all but crippling paw on your waist—the other in the air pressed flatly against your own.

“I, on the other hand, am too hideous to look at, it seems,” he adds when you don’t answer. Voice lowering even more so into a brisk whisper that no one but you would be able to hear, “Won’t you face me, dear niece? And gaze upon the atrocity you dealt when we were children.”

Finally, you pick your head up. “I—” You falter just as quickly—his smile catches you completely off guard. Still, your eyes go to the scar escaping his patched eye—deep and unforgiving where you’d ruthlessly slashed your knife. You swallow thickly. “You have my deepest regrets, uncle. There hasn’t been a day I haven’t asked the Gods for forgiveness.”

To that, he laughs. “There’s no need. I long forgave you.”

There’s an utterly misplaced joy in his eye you’ve never before seen. And you’re left wondering if he’s really the same Aemond you remember.

“Not a blade has struck me since,” he says, simpering. “In a way, I ought to thank you for it. It seems it’s given me luck.”

He doesn’t seem grateful, despite his words. Yet, he doesn’t sound spiteful, either. You don’t know what to make of it. If anything, he seems satisfied with something.

“Anyway, it’s not right for a man to bear ill will towards his wife.”

Your brows furrow. And a creeping chill befalls you. Certainly, you heard him wrong, or he misspoke, or you’ve misunderstood something somehow.

“Oh? They haven’t told you?” he asks—his lips curling further at the corners. “Oh, dear niece—why do you think you’re here? Just visiting?” he snickers.

You still don’t understand. Or maybe it’s that you refuse to. Looking at him desperately in wait for him to stop laughing and explain the joke, even if it’s on you.

“The King spoke of peace, but peace, as you must know, isn’t brought about without payment.”

You remain silent. Still waiting to have your doubts eased.

“Oh, do I have to spell it out for you?”

Despite his sigh, he doesn’t look any ounce worth of exasperated—no, rather amused.

“You’re unwed. As am I,” he finally clarifies, and yet it does nothing to dispel your troubled head. “Marriage has always been the Targaryen way. I’m surprised you didn’t know,” he continues unbothered, a certain snideness to his tone, “But then again, you and your kin aren’t very Targaryen at all, are you?”

You don’t humor the insult. After all, you were way more concerned with what he’d said about marriage.

“Don’t worry. It’s not what matters. Not to me, at least,” he says. “I, for one, welcome our union.”

Your feet follow his lead as he dances with you in the palm of his hand.

“It’s rather poetic, isn’t it?” he smiles again. “You took my eye. And so, dear niece, I shall take your hand and everything attached to it.”

[random-posts680]

“•Don’t come looking for me •” part 1

Part two: https://www.tumblr.com/random-posts680/750380195361538048/i-knew-youd-be-back

Feyd-Rautha x reader

A/n: this is a Drabble I’ve been working on for the past week and I will most likely make a part two!!

Synopsis: You use your job to hide on different planets from a family feud. While living on Giedi prime you catch the attention of the Na-Barron himself and create very close ties with him. The time you have on the planet though is unfortunately short lived, you flee, leaving behind the man you’d, unknowingly made fall in love with you, Feyd-rautha

Other mentions: soft!Feyd, Feyd is obsessed with reader, reader is oblivious, this turned out a bit angsty but part two will tie it up.

Warning: mentions of blood, mentions of death, blade to readers throat, blade mentioned, Feyd is a whole warning in himself.

Everyone knew how cruel and sadistic the Baron harkonnens nephew was.

Everyone knew just what he was capable of.

Anyone who’d ever talked to him without being murdered by his own hands would tell you he was truly terrifying and psychotic, a being who is completely incapable of any feelings such as love, vulnerability, gentleness….

Everyone knew that.

Everyone, but you.

You and feyd-Ruathas entire friendship was rooted from a mishap. You were someone from a far away planet who had come to study the ways of the harkonnens on Giedi Prime, at least that’s the job profile you displayed to them.

The day you arrived there, not a single harkonnen payed you much attention and you weren’t bothered by that, going about your business daily, studying the planet, and occasionally watching the brutal battles in the arena.

Not a soul on Giedi Prime had any idea who you were and what your actual reason was for exploring their planet, and you intended to keep it that way. Keeping your existence to a low and never acting out. Your appearance alone already stood out enough among the harkonnens. The last thing you needed was word getting out of your inhabitants on Giedi prime.

Life on the black and white planet wasn’t as bad as many people picked it out to be. You stuck to your “job” and lived peacefully in your guest coordinates. You ate well, slept well, and trained just fine on your own. Until the day your tranquility was disturbed.

That day you and him crossed paths was by far the most chaotic day you’d had on the planet. You had your things huddled in your arms, your com was ringing with a call from your research centre, your mind was thinking of the quickest way back to the guest chambers, yet your feet were taking you elsewhere.

After realizing you were completely lost, you took a bit to calm down and found the nearest bench along the walls of the stronghold and answered the com to update your work place of your progress on Giedi Prime.

Once the call was over, you grabbed your things, and once again realized you had no idea where the hell you were. You let out a sigh as you turned on your heels only to be met with a blade thrust up against your jugular.

Your feet instantly halted.

“Where are you wondering to?” The person holding the blade rasped out. ‘Shit’ Despite your initial panic, you just simply wanted to get back to your guest room, the day had already been stressful enough and you weren’t the type to be afraid of some sick harkonnen who wanted a rise out of a foreigner. ‘First few weeks on this damn planet and I’m about to get slaughtered for walking in the wrong area.’

You knew the harokenns were a driven race but this was just pretentious.

“I’m trying to find the guest chambers, this place is like a maze, I got lost along the way.” You drawled out, keeping the annoyed tone down a notch, doing your best to not anger the male with the blade.

Seconds went by before he withdrew the knife. As soon as he did you whipped around to face the offender and your heart hammered when you came face to face with the Na-Baron himself.

What you didn’t know is that when your eyes met, Feyd-rauthas heart started to hammer too.

The harkonnen paced around you a few times looking you up and down as you stood still, a skeptical look displayed on your face, yet an intrigued expression on his. ‘What the hell is he doing?’ Your train of thought was stopped when he came closer to you, his face neared yours, his breath tickled your nose and his lips twitched ever so slightly when he was just inches away.

Moments passed but with each one you felt your facade slipping away. You nervously drew your lips into a line as he made eye contact with you once again. His deep blue eyes held something that you couldn’t read. Your act was about to crumble before him.

A few more seconds passed and it was as if your unspoken prayers had been answered when he backed up and simply walked the other way down the hall. You watched with a perplexed look during his exit.

Once he was out of your line of sight you blinked away the look and shook off the interaction. ‘What the actual fuck just happened’ you were completely baffled. He just let you go, no further questions, didn’t give you any directions, and he had gotten so close?!?

You stood for a bit, conflicted. As for the Harkonnen himself, he was feeling waves of ambivalence.

He didn’t know if it was the beauty you possessed or the way your eyes seemed to sparkle with curiosity once you realized who he was, but from that moment on Feyd-Ruatha was infatuated with you.

The very next day he had come to find you. He’d looked into your cause and he was determined to be the one to show you the culture of the harkonnens.

At first, you weren’t amused with his persistence and it was a wonder to many how he didn’t just force you into letting him be around you. He was always finding ways to bother you after his duties and training. Being with you exhilarated him, the surge of emotions added a new type of pleasure to his days. He wasn’t going to give up an opportunity like this. And he definitely wasn’t going to let any other harkonnen be the one in his future spot next to you.

When you finally realized you weren’t getting rid of him you decided to accept it. You let him tag along on your explorations, let him teach you things about the planet, even going as far as him introducing you to his uncle and brother. (Which ended in Chaos and you two swore never again). Feyd had started to grow on you and you got used to his presence, you even started to enjoy it. It was nice having a friend on the planet, even one who was a blood thirsty murderer, but nonetheless, Feyd was never anything other than respectful and his interesting version of kind to you.

Each day was something new with you, while he was teaching you, you were also teaching him. You and him trained together, ate togther, and talked about almost anything and everything. The topics went from simple things to things that were more intimate and personal. You considered telling him the true reasons why you sprung from planet to planet “exploring,” but you decided it wasn’t wise considering that he may not understand or even believe you. Now, while you recall these memories you regret never telling him that you were in fact running from something.

Surprisingly, Feyd had actually opened up a few times and shared some of his twisted beliefs with you. Even if they were insane you did your best to understand him and point him in directions that would cause a lot less blood shed. To your surprise, he took some of your advice.

He hated how weak you could make him but at the same time he couldn’t get enough of you. He craved you deeply. Everyday he spent with you only made his need for you stronger. The smiles you’d give him, the gentleness of your hands when you would dress his wounds after an arena fight (If he ever had any injuries from the arena that is), the softness of your voice when you would teach him things from your home planet.

It was truly intoxicating to him.

Feyd was incredibly protective of you too. Not letting many get too close to you and always making sure you were unharmed by other harkonenns. Feyd himself had no desire to ever hurt you either, he actually despised the thought of hurting you altogether. It was one of the reasons he didn’t want to force your hand, no matter how badly he wanted his fantasies of you to come true, he knew he wouldn’t take joy in forcing them upon you.

It was safe to say you had worked miracles on him. You were the only being in the entire universe who could bring this side out of him.

Feyd-rautha loved you.

So the day you just disappeared out of no where was a day nobody enjoyed. When he’d realized your absence and was informed that no harkonnen on the face of Giedie prime had any idea where you had gone, he completely lost it. He killed everyone in the room with him in that moment.

He dropped as many bodies as he possibly could that day. Acting as though they were to blame for you disappearance.

He tried to track you, find a trail of where you may have gone, anything to bring you back to him. He looked for hours, not wanting to believe that the trail to your current location was completely cold. It was as if you’d vanished into thin air.

All of your belongings were left in your guest room. Nothing of yours was missing. The only thing that had gone missing the same day you did was…his blade.

The harkonnen thought the worst when he uncovered this detail. He thought of you fighting against some kind of enemy with his blade in hand, defending yourself all alone, while he had no way of protecting you. Feyd had never felt heartache but when he thought of you alone and scared, fighting for your life, it surged through his chest and even put warm, piercing lumps in his throat at times.

There was only one other piece of evidence, but it proved you were alive. A week after finding that his blade was missing he went to your room to search it once again. This time he found a note taped in one of your analysis journals. ‘I’m sorry, don’t come looking for me’ it’s writing was rushed and sloppy.

The harkonnen stared at it before the weight of the situation settled onto him. You had left, you had run away from him. But this also meant you were alive.

Feyds murderous tendencies only grew from then on. He killed for no reason now. Slaughtering anyone if they did something out of his comfort. His anger being taken out on servants, and the drugged slaves in the arena.

Feyd seemed to hate everything other than killing. But the one thing that drove him mad was the fact he couldn’t bring himself to hate you.

Each night he’d have dreams of you. Dreams of your hair flowing in the geidi prime wind. Your smile glowing as he shows you yet another trick of his. Your soft voice pulling him into a deep sleep. At the end of the day, this was the closest he could be to you. Sleep was his escape and Feyd-ruatha was desperate. He wasn’t ashamed to be lulled to sleep by the thought of you every night. His finger tips wrapping around the sheets when his dreams consisted of times with you.

Feyd and you and never been closer than mere friends but you also had no idea that you were everything to him.

Now, as you float through space months after you had made your escape, you replay those memories in your head. And you make a promise to yourself. You won’t get close with anybody again until you are done running.

————————————————————————-

A/n: Guys part two is coming

,I promise, I know this is ended sadly 😭

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

An Equal

Feyd Rahtha x Fem!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, some violence (not very graphic), there is a moment where reader is touched without express consent (NOT FEYD THO)

Words: ~ 1.1K

Description: Feyd sees you as an exotic pet. Something to collect. Something to brag about. Until, one day, he finds out about human’s lethality. Being almost killed by you in a fit of rage, he realizes that you are not just an alien. You love him. - Based on this request

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

“I feel like a fucking zoo exhibit.” You mutter, pulling at the ridiculous assortment of jewels and silks draped across your body. Zoo exhibit didn’t even remotely describe it….you were more like a piece of art on display. 

Every day, Feyd sent a darling to your rooms with the clothing he picked for you. They ranged from intricate to barely-there wisps of gauzy fabric. But today? He’d really outdone himself today. A silk skirt hung low on your hips, and the matching bra fit like a glove. A sheer shawl draped crossed your shoulders. Feyd spared no expense with jewels today. Delicate gold chains wound around your exposed waist. Your arms decorated in gold bands. 

“You look beautiful,” Feyd’s darling praised. “He will be pleased.”

You roll your eyes as the darling coils your hair into a loose updo. Of course Feyd would be pleased. His little pet is dolled up and ready to show off to every disgusting bureaucrat and diplomat here for the fight.

Feyd fought often, but you’d never seen him spar in the arena before. He insisted the darlings keep you away from the arena so he didn’t ‘break your weak earthling spirit’ too soon. You should be honored at how delicately Feyd treats you, given his awful temper and violent tendencies. You were anything but. It didn’t matter how often you tried to lash out and annoy him, Feyd always laughed at your antics. 

“Come with me, he wants to see you before the fight.”

Numbly, you follow the darling as she guides you through the maze of hallways. 

“My darlings,” Feyd greets you both. He’s standing amongst a group of diplomats, towering over most of them. 

“Is this her?!” One of the more brazen diplomats steps forward, examining you like some prized show animal. You grit your teeth in annoyance as he pokes and prods you, hands lingering suspiciously long. Looking to Feyd, it’s clear you’re not the only one upset with the display. Feyd’s eyes are glued to where the diplomat’s hands rest on your hip.

You roll your eyes, batting his hand away and moving to stand beside Feyd. “Where’s your leash, pet?” He asks, tilting your head up with a hand on your chin. Feyd’s fingers trail down your throat, toying with your delicate gold necklace.

“I left it next to yours,” you offer dryly. 

Feyd’s smirk dims, his hand instantly moving to grip your neck. The pressure is noticeable, but nowhere near the strength you know Feyd is capable of. “Watch your tongue, pet.” 

Sarcasm probably wasn’t the best move today. Normally, you would shy away from any behavior that could irritate Feyd. Not today. The lack of autonomy was wearing on you, slowly stripping whatever sense of self preservation you had left. Your eyes flick up to Feyd’s, choosing to stare him down rather than respond. 

The world melts away as you both refuse to back down from the silent challenge. The same diplomat from before breaks the tension. He bows quickly before addressing Feyd. “na-Baron, you were telling us earlier how well your earthling can play the baliset, I believe as our most gracious host that you should offer us so entertainme-”

“No.” 

You fight the urge to react, but you’re just as shocked as the diplomat. Feyd frequently made you perform for guests. 

“But, na-Baron-”

“No,” Feyd said. “The fight will begin soon. That will be entertainment enough.”

Of course. Feyd wasn’t refusing because the diplomat had mistreated you earlier. He just didn’t want to delay his precious fucking fight. You step back out of Feyd’s reach. “You should go prepare for your fight, na-Baron.” 

“You wound me,” Feyd smirks. “Are you not going to wish me well for this fight?”

“I believe the drugged slaves in the arena are luck enough, na-Baron.” Now you’re definitely playing with fire. Feyd’s fists clench and he reaches for the knife sheathed on his thigh. 

You brace yourself. This is it. You just couldn’t be satisfied with pretty dresses and Feyd’s condescending affection. The novelty has worn off, and he’s going to kill you. You shut your eyes, waiting for a blow that never comes. Instead, you hear the knife clatter against the floor.

“Pick it up.” Feyd orders.

“What-”

“Pick it up.”

“I-”

“Pick it up or you will take my place fighting those ‘drugged slaves’ in the arena.” Feyd’s tone is even, no hint of humor or whatever passes as a sick joke for him.

You crouch slowly, your face heating in anger and shame as you hear laughs from the group of guests. 

“na-Baron, she would be better suited as a prize for the victor.” Your hand tightens around the handle, and you see red. You recognize that voice. The disgusting diplomat. With the wandering hands. 

Trying to calm down, you force yourself to breathe evenly. Feyd’s eyes never drift away from you, his calculating stare watching your every move. As you straight up, you feel a hand grope your ass. “Let me take her place in the arena, na-Baron. I should have her cunt as a reward when I win.”

You snap, letting instinct and rage take over. Pivoting your stance, you drive Feyd’s knife into the stomach of the diplomat behind you. His hand drops from you as he screams in pain. “You bit-”

Feyd is silent. He hasn’t moved a muscle to help his guest. 

The diplomat scrambles back, tripping over his robes and falling to the ground. You can hear screaming from the onlookers, but everything sounds as if it’s underwater. You drop on top of the diplomat, stabbing him again and again. You let it all out. The anger. The frustration. The embarrassment. You pour everything you’ve bottled up from months of captivity into every stab. 

The knife slips from your hand, dropping to the floor. 

Your gaze focuses again.

He’s dead.

You look up.

Everyone but Feyd has fled.

He’s leaning against a pillar. Arms crossed as he watches the display with an unreadable expression.

Feyd pushes off of the pillar, walking towards you. He kneels beside you, picking the blade up and offering it to you. 

“Keep it.”

You laugh through the tears. Somehow those two words meant more to you than all the empty praise and gifts. In that moment, you're more than some pampered pet. 

An equal.

NOTE: Two uploads in two days? Is this Christmas? No, it's a request I finally completed!!! Sorry, no smut here! I was really feeling this prompt and it didn't organically develop into smut. Serious writing isn't something I normally do, so I hope it did your prompt justice!! ~ Lacie <3

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[just-a-ghost00]

Mini PAC - Details about your soulmate/TF using game cards and letters

Group 1 - Cassette

Banana card : they are fruity! If they’re a man, they have big D energy. They are joyful. They come from a warm climate country. Possibly an island.

Bunny card : this person is super cute and lovely. They look like a baby. They are very kind and soft with others. They have a high sex drive. Their teeth and ears could be parts of their body that you like about them. They feel very innocent and vulnerable.

Airplane card : this person likes to travel for fun and/or travels a lot for work. They live at a distance from you. They enjoy fast communication. They are active. They are curious and love to be challenged.

Letters : T H U N L I I O E Z E I C U Y I M A

Words or names I picked up on ( feel free to add more to the list in the comments) :

Liam, Theo, Noah, Noe, Zain, Zina, Zelie, Mona, Mina, Naim, Chloé, Chile, Lucy, Milan, Athene, Luna, China, mole, eye, cutie, cinema, zinc, camel, thyme, chain, lion, Leo, Helio, Nile, mint, maze, hazel, mountain, cunt, aconite, Lyna, Lina, Alice, menace, county, yen, Celine, TMI, TUE(sday), OCT(ober), autumn, Ciel, honey, Luca, Han, menu, hate, anime

Group 2 - Subway

Bicycle and train card : they live at a distance from you but it could be easily accessible. They enjoy traveling and/or they travel for work. They like biking.

Dress card : they are pretty feminine. They like to dress unconventionally. So if they’re a man, they like to wear skirts or high heels, to put on makeup. If they’re a woman, they’re a bit of a tomboy. They enjoy fashion in general. They could be a model.

Dolphin card : they are sociable. Their family matters a lot to them. They are very sensitive and in tune with their intuition. They have a kind and generous heart. They are playful, even flirty. They like water and/or leave near a body of water.

letters : W E E M S A U T T B A E E O R E N R

Words and names I picked up on (feel free to add more to the list in the comments) : tenor, Muse, water, Mona, Mason, Saturn, Beau, war, ram, Taurean, brat, bae, West, euro, won, MON(day), mount, sun, tarot, bus, runes, tan, beast, Roman, Roma, Meteora, Mars, ASMR, Ares, Arena, amore, nature, muerte, mentor, senor, Matteo, master, webmaster, woman, man, Erasme, Bruno, brunette, same, torn, tears, BTS, Naruto, Moana

Group 3 - Snacks

Letters X L N E J E E A O N A H N N L I R W L

Words and names I picked up on (feel free to add to the list in the comments) :

Hélène, Helena, Nia Jax, jail, Leo, Xena, hell, Joan, Joana, Jane, Jean, Jona, jean, Noel, Noe, Noa, lion, JAN(uary), Wall E, halo, hola, hello, Axel, Hoax, Jihane, Will, Jorah, horn, Jael, Jeanne, norn, helix, Halle, alien, Rollex, Rollin, Alienor, Jolie, Rio, Janeiro, Nelliel, Ronnie, Leon, Johann, Neil

Watermelon card : They support Palestine. They come from a warm climate country. They love summer. They love watermelon. They like your juice ;)

Tennis ball card : They are athletic. They enjoy tennis or any type of ball game. They got balls ;) They are swift and fast. They communicate quickly, they are witty and sarcastic.

Socks card : You'd feel very cozy with them. They have an odd but warm personality. They enjoy date nights snuggling by the fireplace or Netflix and chilling. They have cold feet.

[kkami-writes]

waiting for us — chapter thirty seven. laser tag cw. derogatory language/slurs. wc 701 + 4 ss a/n. I do want to be clear that I am part of the lgbt+ community and have been called these things which of course isn't like? an excuse to say that like I can say it? though I think people should be able to reclaim their slurs but. ANYWAY the point is, I have censored it but if it makes people uncomfy, I can fully censor!!

After Felix had stopped pouting he had showered you in compliments, genuinely impressed at how you were able to get the plushy in two tries. He pretends to bow down to you.

“All hail the claw queen!!!!” You snort at his silliness before trying to pull him up, hoping no one was watching the two of you.

“Oh my god, stop it!! Lix!”

“What?? I’m just giving my respects to my new queen,” Your eyes roll playfully, nudging him softly.

“So, what should we name our son?” You question as you point to the duckling plushy he was holding. Honestly? It reminded you of the pretty boy.

Felix on the other hand was absolutely melting on the inside. The fact that you had called the plush “our” son. Why were you so adorable? He could feel himself falling more in love with you, every second he spent with you.

He clears his throat. “What about bbokari?”

“As in…yongbokkie?” A sly grin tugs at your lips.

Felix groans. “Who told you??!”

A giggle falls from your lips. “Minho let it slip,”

“Minho??? I expected Jisung or Hyunjin at least. They have big mouths. In more ways than one” Pink dusts your cheeks as you push the boy who only laughs at your shyness.

“Bbokari is cute though. I love it,” Felix just gives you that breathtaking smile.

“Oh!” Felix exclaims, pointing over towards the back of the arcade. “Look, they have laser tag. You down for a round?”

“It’s been forever since I’ve played. I’m down,” You nod, the two of you starting to make your way over there.

“Shall we make a wager?” You squint at Felix.

“What kind of wager?”

“Loser buys ice cream?”

“Oh you are SO on,”

And that’s how you find yourself in the dark arena, neon lights lining the floor as your only source of light. You were slightly directionally challenged so the maze like turns has made you very lost but you were still on guard, making sure to stay far away from Felix. It was just the two of you, trying to hunt each other down, taking your bet very seriously.

You’re hidden behind a wall, peaking your head out to see if you can catch a glimpse of his now raven hair. When the coast is clear you take a step to move to a new location, but a hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you back, pushing you up against the wall. Even though you were only a few inches shorter than the boy, you had felt so small under his gaze. Felilx has his hand slightly above your head, effectively caging you in.

He smirks down at you and you hate how attractive he looks under the neon lights.

“Well, well, well. Seems I’ve caught myself a pretty girl,” He hums, hand coming down to twirl a strand of your hair around his fingers. Felix’s grin becomes more cocky, canines peaking past his lips. “Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you right now,”

“Because I’m cute?”

“Hmm, that is a good answer…but is it good enough?” He pretends to think about it, but you take the chance while he’s momentarily distracted. You lean up to press your lips to his and Felix completely freezes, eyes comically wide. Before he can even consider kissing you back you’re tilting your gun, that’s been in your other hand, up so you can shoot him. His vest vibrates to signal that he’s been hit.

“Bye, bye~” You singsong before ducking under his arm and running away. This finally seems to pull him out of his stupor as he yells out after you.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaait!! At least let me kiss you back!” Felix wails, chasing after you.

In the end Felix still wins but refuses to let you pay for ice cream and doesn’t give you a chance to argue.

The poor boy has been pouting the whole time about not being able to kiss you until you had let him actually kiss you. And perhaps that lead to the two of you making out in the backseat of his car.

But, you’d never kiss and tell. (But Felix certainly did).

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[ameagrice]

Capsize

percy jackson x f!reader

chapter thirty-three: run, girl, run!

That night, you sneak up to the Big House again, when all is quiet across camp. The balls of light floating around the camp store allow you to sneak past without falling down the hill, grateful to see the lights of the house still on.

He must have been expecting that you couldn’t just get in bed and fall asleep with so many things on your mind. You climb the steps of the porch, and slide in slowly through the open doorway. It’s warm again tonight, the air is hot and humid, but inside the Big House it feels homely as ever, cool. Chiron stands, reading through an old and tattered book in his hands. He looks up when you walk in.

“Hi,” you say.

“It’s very late,” he replies, snapping the book shut. “You want to know if I’ve considered what you asked, don’t you?”

You nod. It’s not like you’d asked anything else. “But I want to know what happened to Chris Rodriguez, too. How Clarisse found him. Why he went down there.”

Chiron sighs, like he’s tired, and waves a hand to the couch. You don’t hesitate in taking a seat.

“It started after you left with Percy for the summer…”

You spend the remainder of the night flicking through all the books in the house, on Ancient Greece, the gods, Daedalus mainly. Chiron talks as you read, of how Clarisse blew up an entrance to the maze somewhere in the country, of how it simply moved a few yards away. He talks of Chris going insane from what he saw down there, from what Luke’s men had him do. Chris currently resides in the basement, the only place he feels safe enough without panicking to high heaven. He refuses to come out, but at least nothing can hurt him down there. Clarisse was scarred from the maze itself, and vowed never to step foot in there again. It makes sense—the few hours you were down there with Percy were creepy enough.

“I dreamed of Nico, and Percy did too. He’s trying to raise the dead, and someone is guiding or helping him or something,” you offer over a cup of hot tea and The Odyssey. You close the chapter on your mother. “He misses Bianca. Makes sense, but…he needs help.”

“The boy is troubled,” he agrees. “He has been led astray.”

“We can get him back. He doesn’t have to end up in trouble. You thought Percy was the only child of the Big Three who would make a mess of things. Then Thalia turned up, and left. But now there’s Nico; do you really want him running loose, led astray?” Chiron tilts his head. “We all heard about the ‘dangers’ of the children of those three. Although I really doubt Percy could wreak havoc. He misses his mouth when he eats pizza.”

Chiron laughs, but it’s missing something. Does he think of all your failures in the past? Is that why he doesn’t want you to go on this quest? You wouldn’t blame him, because all you’ve done so far is evade your own death and cause other people’s. Not directly, but your choices spurred theirs. At least that’s how it feels.

“I know you think I’m not right for this, but I need you to trust me.”

“It isn’t that you’re not right for this,” he deflects. “It’s that things in our world are getting worse, and sending heroes off to fight these battles have more risks than before. You know what happened to Chris and Clarisse. I’d like to avoid that from happening to anybody else.”

“Well, sometimes we can’t change fate. What’s meant to be is meant to be.”

It’s like you’ve shot him. He stills, blanching. Chiron recovers his expression quickly, and gives you a tense smile. “You should go, now. It’s been a long day for you.”

After breakfast, Chiron called a council meeting. You and Percy headed down together, chatting about what it could be. A distraction, obviously—you both knew what it would be about. You met up with everyone in the training arena, compared to the usual meeting at the ping pong table. Mrs O’Leary chewed on a giant dog toy, bounding around the arena as you discussed the fate of everything.

Juniper the tree nymph accompanied Grover, Travis and Connor sat beside each other, Charles Beckendorf and Silena, and Lee Fletcher, a son of Apollo. Quintus and Chiron, by the sword racks, led the meeting at first, passing over to Clarisse and Beckendorf for input.

Finally, they turned it on you. Clarisse, addressing you properly for the first time, demanded your thoughts. “What do you think about this?”

You inhaled, sitting up straighter on the bench. All eyes turn to you, listening intently. “I think Luke knows about the entrance to the Labyrinth, and he’s probably known for a while. Think back years ago to when Percy was poisoned; the monster came out of nowhere, and so did Luke. The maze moves—maybe he lost it for a while, hasn’t used it since. But he’s definitely trying to get back inside camp, now, using the maze. He was here longer than anyone, wasn’t he? He probably knows it like the back of his hand.”

“The cave entrance has been there a long time. Luke used to use it.”

You raise an unimpressed brow to Juniper. “You knew about this? And haven’t said anything?!”

Juniper’s youthful face turned green in embarrassment. “I didn’t know it was important. Just a yucky old cave.”

You see Chiron rub his hand over his forehead in stress, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing—Luke’s been doing this under his nose for years it sounds like.

“She has good taste,” Grover defends.

“I wouldn’t have paid any attention, except…it was Luke,” she blushes further. You wave your hand in her direction, somewhat agreeing. Luke might have been good-looking, but he’s still a psycho.

Grover huffs. “Forget what I said about good taste.”

Quintus polished his sword as he spoke. “Interesting. And you believe this young man, Luke, would use the Labyrinth as an invasion route?” He raised his eyes to you.

“Definitely,” Clarisse came to your defence. “If he could get an army of monsters inside Camp Half-Blood, just have ‘em pop up in the middle of the woods without having to worry about the camp’s boundaries, we don’t stand a chance. He could wipe the place out easy. Probably been planning it for a while. He’s been sending scouts into the maze. We found one. You know…”

“Chris Rodriguez,” you mumble.

“Ah, the one in the…”

“The one in the what?” Asks Percy.

Clarisse glared at him. “The point is, Luke has been searching for a way to navigate the maze. He’s looking for something.”

You don’t miss a beat. “Probably Daedalus’s workshop.”

Percy shifted beside you. “The guy who created the maze.”

You hum in response. “He’s considered the greatest architect of all time. If the legends are actually true, his workshop should be in the centre of the maze. Except…the maze always changes so…where’s the centre meant to be. If Luke managed to find it, he could easily convince Daedalus to help him navigate his own creation.”

“The thing is,” adds Clarisse. “He wouldn’t have to stumble around watching for people or traps. He could navigate and go anywhere he wants safely. First to Camp, and then—well, Olympus.”

The arena turned very silent. Mrs O’Leary even grew quiet. Beckendorf straightened up on the bench, running a strong over his face. “Hold up. You said convince Daedalus. I thought Luke was—kicked off a cliff? Isn’t Daedalus dead? Shouldn’t Luke, in theory, be very dead?”

Your jaw drops. How stupid can you be? You chide yourself, looking at Chiron for some guidance. He’s watching you too, but doesn’t offer any sort of help.

“In theory, they both should be dead. Extremely, extremely dead. Uh—but Luke is not. Definitely not. And Daedalus…well, nobody really knows. People have said that towards the end of his life, he went down into his maze and stayed there. Others have said different. There are a lot of uh, disturbing rumours, stories. But long story short, he might still be down there.”

You’re aware of Travis staring at you from the other side, but you can’t bring yourself to look. You’ve barely spoke to him thus far, for being so caught up in everything. “We have to go into the maze. We have to find this workshop before Luke does. If Daedalus is alive, we can convince him to help us, not Luke. If, for some miracle Ariadne’s string still exists too, we make sure it doesn’t fall into Luke’s hands.”

“Why don’t we just blow up the maze?” Came Percy. “Block Luke off from the outside?”

You give him a gentle look. “Clarisse tried. The maze just moved.”

“It’s not so easy, stupid,” Clarisse snapped. “We tried in Phoenix. The best thing to do is to stop Luke from navigating it. Which means, we get down there first.”

“We could fight,” Lee said. “We know where the entrance is now. We can set up a line of defence and wait for the army to come through. We’ll be ready, waiting.”

“We will certainly set up a defence,” agrees Chiron. “But Clarisse is right. The best thing to do is for our side to move first. If they come through here…we won’t have enough to defeat them.”

You stand. “We have to get to Daedalus’s workshop first, then. Find Ariadne’s string, stop Luke from getting it.”

“But if nobody can navigate it,” Percy reached for your elbow, getting your attention. “What chance do we have down there?”

“I’ve been reading about it. I know more than we did before. We’ll be fine.”

“From reading about it?”

You clenched your teeth. “Yes.”

“That’s not gonna be enough.”

“It’s gonna have to be.”

“It isn’t!”

“Are you gonna help me or not?” You exclaim. You’re suddenly aware of everyone watching, listening to you argue. Mrs O’Leary violently ripped the head off her toy—EEEEEK.

Chiron cleared his throat. “First thing’s first. We need a quest.” Your heart stopped. “Someone must enter the Labyrinth, find the workshop of Daedalus, and prevent Luke from using the maze to invade.”

“Well,” Clarisse waved a hand in your direction. “We all know who should lead this. She’s got my vote.”

Much to your surprise, there was a murmur of agreement. Under the watchful eyes, you shift on your feet, hip to hip, uncomfortable, edging back to near Percy. “But you’ve done loads for this, too. You should be a part of it.”

Clarisse shook her head. “I’m not going back in there.”

Travis barked a laugh. “Chicken, Clarisse? Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

She got to her feet, cheeks aflame, and visibly shaking. She pointed in Travis’s face. “You don’t understand anything, you hear me? I’m never going in there again.” She stormed out of the arena.

Travis sheepishly voiced, “I didn’t mean to—”

Chiron raised his hand. “The poor girl has had a difficult time. Now, do we all agree who should lead this quest?” Everyone nodded, every hand went up. You scarcely believed your eyes. Travis offered you a tiny hint of a smile, albeit a nervous one. Chiron, at last, turned to you directly. “Very well. My dear, it’s time you visit the Oracle. Assuming you return to us in one whole piece, we will discuss what will happen next.”

You’ve been up in the attic before. You spent the whole month before the summer break trying to get the mummy to talk to you. You don’t stop to offer assistance to Clarisse in calming down a frantic Chris in the basement, crying his heart out. Instead, you place your hand on the banister and trail up the four flights, to the attic where the Oracle sits waiting. You wind up the narrow set all the way to the top, an attic full of relics of years passed from heroes who passed through the same walls.

You walk slowly over the dusty floorboards, to the window behind the Oracle, and you watch for a little while the figures in the distant training arena, one figure in particular pacing nervously. Percy, pacing up and down the arena. You absentmindedly pull on the ends of your hair, before moving back and turning to the mummified girl, who seems to know what you want before you open your mouth. The room grew darker, and dark green fog spilled from the Oracle’s mouth. She came to life in a way you’ve seen only once before, this time just as scary as the last when she’d wandered out of the house. Her eyes open, dark, broken holes, and she spills the prophecy you’ve waited so long for.

You shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze,

The Traitor, the Dead and the Lost one raise.

You shall rise or fall by the Ghost King’s hand,

The child of Athena’s final stand.

Destroy with a hero’s final breath,

And may lose a love to worse than death.

Cheery.

You want to grab the nearest baseball bat and scream. The child of Athena’s final stand? Worse than death? Why, oh why, did nothing work out for you? Frustrated tears burn your eyes. You’re unable to stop them, a sudden fear at your line, undoubtedly. You find yourself lowering to the floor, where you sit for a while, trying to think. You can’t make anything positive out of this one. Somewhere downstairs, the floorboards creak, and you jump to your feet, dust scattering in the air. You wipe your hands across your cheeks ridding them of tears and give yourself a minute to calm down before you tear out of the attic, back down to the arena. You must look a little out of touch, or something.

“My dear,” Chiron says. “You made it!”

You find your spot next to Percy on the bench, collapsing heavily and stare at the floor.

“Well?” Asked Quintus.

Turning your head ever so, you look at your best friend, who sits wide-eyed and waiting for you to say anything. “I got the prophecy. So…I’ll lead the quest to find Daedalus’s workshop.”

Chiron scraped a hoof against the floor. “What exactly did the prophecy say, my dear? The wording is important.”

Taking a deep breath, “Uh…well—it said you shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze…the dead, the traitor and the lost one raise—”

Grover perked up. “That’s Pan!” He proclaimed. “It has to be!”

“With the dead and traitor,” Percy, ankle touched yours. “Not so much.” I’m here, his touch said. I’m listening.

“And? What is the rest?”

“You shall rise or fall by the ghost king’s hand, the child of Athena’s final stand.”

The murmur of excitement dropped. Everyone looked uncomfortable. Because you are the daughter of Athena attending.

“Hey, we shouldn’t jump to conclusions!” Silena urged sweetly. “You’re not the only child of Athena, it could be anybody!”

“But who’s this ghost king?” Beckendorf asked.

You had your suspicions, alright.

“Are there more lines?” Asked Chiron. “It doesn’t sound complete.”

That’s because it’s not. “Um, something about destroy with a hero’s final breath.”

“And?”

Feeling suddenly tired, you stand to make your point. “Look, I have to go in. I’ll find the workshop and I’ll stop Luke. I need help, though…” He must have expected it. Was that not why he was pacing, earlier? Percy’s bright eyes did not waver, set on your own. “Will you help me?” The last line worried you, but doing this without Percy worried you more. You didn’t think you could do it without him.

He didn’t even hesitate. “I’m in.”

You smiled. “And Grover. You, too. You need to find Pan, and we’ll need your help.”

“I’ll pack extra recyclables for snacks!”

“Two companions,” assured Chiron. “Are you sure on your final choice?”

You nod. You want to take Annabeth, too, but you’re not risking more than three ever again. Not this time. Not when the prophecy talks of a child of Athena’s last stand. You won’t do it to her. “Mhm.”

“Very well. Let us adjourn. The members of the quest must prepare themselves. Tomorrow at dawn, you will enter the Labyrinth.”

You tried not to cry again, you really did. But the lines were going round and round in your head, and the sudden hurry to go make a new weapon was nagging, and you couldn’t find your spare flashlight, and packing your things made you doubt you could do this. Which was why when he called out from the doorway, you melted. You paused looking through the wall of books for anything that could help you along the way.

“Knock knock?” He tapped on wood.

You turn to him, putting down the books on the side. “Oh, hey. Didn’t hear you.”

“You okay?”

“Just trying to do some more research, find something useful. Just in case. But, uh, nothing can seem to agree on anything. So…yeah. I know a bit but I just feel like we need more.”

He closed the door with a small thud, coming closer. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry so much.”

It’s all you ever do. Does he know you’re always on high-alert? Does he know you’re overthinking?

You shift on your hip, rubbing your hand over your arm. “I wanted this so badly.”

Percy’s bright green eyes keep you balanced, and he smiles reassuringly. “I know. You’re gonna do great.”

You’re so grateful to him. “I’m just worried I’ve made the wrong decision. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. Or Grover.”

“Hey, we’re your friends. We trust you. We wouldn’t want to miss this.”

You shakily exhale, throat closing up. Uh oh. “It’s just…” you almost gag as the words get stuck. Percy’s smile fades, replaced with a concerned frown.

“What is it? Is it the prophecy?”

You gulp. “I’m sure it’s fine,” you utter quietly.

“What was the last line?”

You squeeze your eyes shut before the tears can hurt anymore, and without any thought, you hold your arms out to him. And he comes right to you, just holding you. He’s warm and a solid figure in a shaky world. Percy’s hand awkwardly pats your back, and you can’t help the way you squeeze your arms around him.

“Hey,” he mumbles. “It’s—it’s okay.”

You’re shivering. He smells soapy, and cotton fresh, yet distinctly boyish. You shove your face into his shoulder and hope he doesn’t feel the tears soak in his shirt.

“It sounds weird,” you muffle into his shirt. “But I know this is right. I need you and Grover with me. It feels right.”

“Then don’t worry about it,” he sighs. “We’ve had plenty of problems before and we solved them all, right? We can do it this time too.”

“This is different. I don’t want anything happening to you.” You slip up. “Or to Grover. Or me.”

“Try not to worry so much,” he pats your back a final time. “We’re gonna be alright. We’ve got each other.”

When you finally part, Percy avoids your gaze, trailing his fingers across the maps laid out across the table you stand beside. “About your prophecy…the line about a hero’s last breath—”

You wipe your nose. “You want to know which one of us. I don’t know, Percy.”

“No, something else. You didn’t give us the last line, earlier. Hero’s breath should rhyme with the last line. Was it something like—did it end in death?”

You stare with hot eyes at the book on the table. “You should go, Percy. Pack your things. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

He stands quietly for a moment, before putting his hands in his pockets. “Okay,” he says. “Just…try to sleep. See you tomorrow.” And he leaves you standing there to think about what you’ve done.

It’s easier said than done. You manage archery that afternoon, and news spreads pretty quickly of what’s coming tomorrow. Annabeth brings you back some food from dinner, and helps you pack your bag. Your siblings wish you good luck, Malcolm saying he’ll pray for you. Annabeth provides you with an extra flashlight, and then Clarissa, which makes three. You don’t know how long you’ll be down there, she says. It makes your stomach churn even more. You set out your outfit for tomorrow and pack a good few. The brief time in the maze the other evening was cold, so you lay out a pair of jeans, a tee and a jacket.

You lay in bed that night and raise your hand to pull back the curtain above your head, watching the stars. It might be the last time you ever see them.

When morning comes, you find yourself gearing up to go, after breakfast, backpack over your shoulders, accompanied by Annabeth past the cabins and into the woods, where the entrance last was. People had set up tents and would take it in turns to watch over the entrance, should anyone come through. Percy and Grover already stood waiting when you turned up, Chiron and Quintus standing with terse smiles.

“Good morning!” Chiron tried to be upbeat, but you couldn’t help the nerves. You couldn’t even smile. “You’re all here, at last.”

You want to tell him you’re shaking to your very core with nerves. You don’t.

“Take care,” Chiron offered. “And good hunting.”

“You too,” Percy nodded.

You follow after Percy and, after a few brief words from Chiron, a goodbye from your friends, and a last look at the woodlands, you find yourself facing the darkness.

“Goodbye sunshine,” said Grover miserably. You trudged forward after Percy, dropping down into the eery space that was the uninviting maze. “Hello rocks…”

It’s not unfamiliar in feel, only in…sight. Where the walls were brick last time, and cool to the touch, they’ve changed to smooth stone, dewy and threaded with hanging vines. Under your feet, tough ropes of them tangle and lead down the pathway.

Beside you, Percy breathes out slowly. You hear Grover’s teeth chattering, and your flashlight provides a good look at your billowing breath in the cold hall. You’ve inside, now, fully—the opening above has disappeared, closed up, and your friends are gone. You’re alone in here, the three of you, and already the claustrophobia is suffocating.

“Alright,” you start, sounding more positive than you feel. “Anyone have any suggestions, first, or can I just lead the way?”

“Lead the way!” Grover prompted. “Because I haven’t any idea what we’re doing.”

“That’s lovely, Grover, thank you for that.” You take the first step in the darkness, voice echoing. You shine your flashlight around, doing a quick circle of your surroundings.

“Oh, damn, it’s like something from a horror movie.”

“And thank you for that, Percy,” you smile sardonically. “Keep your eyes peeled for any clues.”

“This isn’t the crystal maze,” he laughs.

“I think I’ll give you over to the monsters personally.”

You really tried to keep your place in the maze. Left, left, straight on, down the slope, left again…you only got about a hundred or so metres before you were hopelessly, completely lost. Nothing looked at all as it had last time, as if you’d entered a completely different part of the maze. You backtracked following your memorised turnings, but stopped at a dead-end; the maze had changed completely in such a short amount of time. It was scary, and you could feel anxiety threatening to swallow you up, suffocating with every turn. Because not only were you terribly lost with a jittery Grover humming a tune every five minutes, but you’d forgotten about the threat of monsters around every corner, and the possibility of getting split up down here.

“So, new idea,” you voiced. The three of you stopped for rehydration, the tunnel growing warmer the further you walked. “I say we stick to the left wall. That way we aren’t getting split up, and we’re not losing contact with the wall itself, so it cant physically change.”

Percy nodded, raising his hand to your head and dunking you in light spirits. “Good idea.” He quickly lost his sense of humour when, shortly after voicing the brilliant idea, the left wall literally fell away, the bricks disappearing as if they were never there. “Well then.”

You kept walking the long hallway, changing from that of a metal container to a red-brick chamber, with holes in the ground every few steps. It was like playing a dangerous game of hopscotch, except you really didn’t want to relax. At the end of it you entered a round room, with eight different tunnels open and looming branching off the main circle you found yourselves in. Behind you, you watched with your own eyes as the entrance changed from red brick to yellowing, floral wallpaper and rotting wainscoting groaning quietly. Queasiness irritated you. You ran your hands through your hair with a stressful sigh.

“Which way did we even come in?” Grover hummed uneasily.

“Just go back. Turn around the way we came.”

Except, now it had changed, everything blended into one, a huge confusing mess, and nobody could decide on what to do or where to go. You swept your flashlight over the eight tunnel archways, like train tunnels, but none of them offered any differences…at first glance, anyway. Finally, you closed your eyes and stopped the flashlight—opening your eyes, you’d stopped the light on the left-middle tunnel. “That one.”

Percy entered your line of sight, looking unsure. “How can you be so sure?”

You shrugged. “Deductive reasoning.”

He gagged on a laugh. “So you’re guessing?”

Readjusting your backpack, you nodded to the tunnel and took off. “Just come on.”

You’d never do anything by chance again. The tunnel soon got so low and cramped that the concrete walls pressed against your shoulders your hips, bent over and trying not to hyperventilate. Unfortunately, Grover wasn’t doing the same thing. His erratic breathing happened to be the loudest thing in the tunnel.

“I can’t stand it anymore,” he whispered. “Are we nearly there yet?”

You had to admit that you were getting fed up with it as well. Percy remained quiet and composed—once, he smacked his head on the ceiling and bit back a series of words.

“We’ve been down here, like, five minutes,” you offered. “Calm down.”

“Why would Pan even be down here anyway?” He rambled. “I mean, look how dark it is! This is disgusting. What does the god of nature want with a place this dank? This is the opposite of wild!”

Just when the tunnel became so narrow you were about to call it quits, it spilled open into a huge room full of old mosaic tiles in golds, reds and blues, like something from an old Greek book in the Big House. And it was Greek—upon closer inspection with the tiles closest to you, they showed a myriad of images of the gods: Aphrodite in a white chiffon, all done up pretty; your mother in battle, wearing all gold; Ares in feast, at a table drinking dark wine. You leaned in closer, running your fingertip along the pictures.

“This is beautiful.” You straightened up. The ceiling, though dirty and dark, glittered in gold and silver, and an ornate three-tier fountain sat empty in the middle of the room.

“What is this place?” Asked Percy, tilting his head back to look up. “Ancient Greek?”

“Looks like it. Kinda reminds me of Olympus, the last time we were up there.”

“Before you guys came to camp,” Grover joined you, looking around. “We went up to Olympus in winter, before the solstice. Only the grounds but…it was amazing. Looked a lot like this.”

“How can it be here, though?” Asked Percy, “it’s so…out of the blue.”

“The labyrinth is like a patchwork blanket. It grows itself, decorates itself—it doesn’t end.”

“You’re making it sound like it’s alive.”

“It basically is, Percy. Look around.”

“Can we stop talking about it being alive, please?” Begged Grover. A groaning noise came from the tunnel before you. “Oh no,” he moaned.

“Alright,” you said, “onward.”

“Down that way with the noise?” Grover grimaced.

“Exactly that way. Things are looking older so…maybe that’s the way to Daedalus’s workshop. Since he’s old and…whatever. Shouldn’t the workshop be in the oldest part of the maze?”

Logically, it made sense. Literally, it didn’t. The maze didn’t abide by any rules of thumb. The maze soon went back to playing with you (and your sanity) as it turned into modern caves decorated in spray paint, and then a restaurant-esque room full of gleaming mirrors. Every few feet, the maze changed, the tunnels shifted, and the floor beneath your feet turned from cement to metal and back to cement again. Through a wine cellar Dionysus would adore and out into a basement, you were slowly losing your mind. It didn’t matter how much you backtracked or memorised, the maze just didn’t care, and kept changing, changing, changing. At one point, standing in a wooden warehouse, you could have sworn you heard voices on the floor above, but then again, you’d been down here for far too long.

The first skeleton you found appeared far too quickly for your liking.

“Oh, man!” You waved a hand in its direction. “Should we consider this a marker? We’re so far into the maze we’ve got dead bodies?”

Grover gagged. “Milkman!”

“What?”

“A milkman,” he reiterated. “They used to deliver milk.”

“Thank you, Mister. Obvious,” Percy smirked. “But that was like…a million years ago. What’s he doing down here?”

You shrug. “Some people just wander in and get lost. Like us, I guess. Some probably come exploring on purpose and never make it back. In fact, like a bazillion years ago the Cretans sent people in here as sacrifices.”

Grover gulped. “He’s been down here a loooong time.” The skeleton’s hands were frozen clawing at the wall, like he’d died being dragged. “And it smells of monsters down here, too.”

“Well, they’re probably everywhere down here.”

“Yeah…sure smells close, though.”

“We can’t just abandon ship, guys,” you try, “we need to head deeper into the maze. There’s definitely a way to the centre, we’re just going about it the wrong way.”

Percy cleared his throat, prompting your attention. “Maybe there isn’t a right way,” he suggested with a shrug. “I mean, it is a maze, and you said it’s always changing. Maybe the workshop moves with it?”

You hum, and try hard not to think that he might be right. “Nah. We’ll find it. We’re close to something; I can feel it.”

You could, in actual fact, feel the upcoming challenge the way your demigodly instincts always helped you to, like a weird feeling up your spine, a lingering over your shoulders. Your stomach was tightening just as you crawled through a metal air shaft, and came out…

In the tile room. Again.

Getting to your feet with a groan, aching from the constant ducking and diving, you almost yelled in anger.

“We’re just going ‘round in circles!” You yelled and span in one to get your point across. Percy came up after you, casually at first, and then Grover. Percy paled. Grover shrieked.

Spinning on your heels, you weren’t the only ones in this room anymore. You screamed, scrambling to shove yourself behind Percy, back-to-back. You fumbled around for your dagger.

A Greek hero, or what was left of him, sat at the fountain. He wore old armour, bronze and gold, only it was rusted with something you didn’t want to think about. His gold-blond hair lay messed and thick, like he couldn’t stop pulling on it. He lacked an eye, a wound, and looked like he’d been in agony for a very long time. The stuff of nightmares, honestly. A Greek horror.

The personification of struggle.

Percy stiffened at your back. His hand raised and caught your forearm, fingers tight around you, shaking.

“Come on!” A voice like honey drawled, though it was thick with sadness and triumph together. “You guys…what are you doing? You’re going through wrong way, you know. Turn back.”

You couldn’t turn back. You’d already made that mistake. He was trying to confuse you, that’s all. His voice grew louder and more aggressive, more persuasive, and got closer. You tried to block him out, and slow your heart rate. In your mind, you thought of all the songs you loved, humming the lyrics.

“Hey!” You heard Percy. “Leave her alone. Leave us alone.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Riptide was drawn. You really hoped you didn’t have to fight this guy. Though he was obviously an old spirit, or an old and minor god, you didn’t doubt he was powerful. Being down here was a nightmare enough without having to fight.

“Poor thing,” he drawled, like you would a hurt puppy. “Weak, bitter. But persistent. Only hurt lies ahead, you know? You can turn around, now,” he called your name. Percy’s fingers danced along your arm, a distraction. Being under fire made your skin crawl, and the aggression in the hero’s tone had brought on an anxious stomach ache.

Percy raised Riptide. Just when you thought you were done for, a scalding light filled the room, like a floodlight had suddenly appeared. Your heart skipped way too many beats; Grover raised his hand to shield his eyes. When the light died off, you kept your eyes shut.

“Are you causing trouble for these heroes?” A woman’s voice called into the terrible scene. You slowly unclenched your jaw, opened your eyes slowly, and shifted to peek around Percy’s shoulder, ever so slightly inching so you didn’t see the bloodied Greek. She stood tall and proud, beautiful brown curls the colour of chocolate dancing down her spine in a long braid threaded with gold ribbon. The plain, white dress she wore turned to rainbow when she moved, and you thought of oil on a river, the way it moves under sunlight, shimmering. Her milky skin was flawless, and you had the sudden feeling that you knew this woman, somehow.

His voice, mellowed now, shook. “No, milady!”

Liar. You exhaled shakily.

“I see,” she crooned. “Well, you’ll let them be on their way then, yes? You’ll leave them be, from now on? Leave these heroes to me. You’re creating unease.”

The woman turned to face you, Grover and Percy, and made direct eye contact with you first. She smiled, and it was like taking a chill pill, a strange and sleepy calm that washed over you. Whether the boys felt it too, you couldn’t say, but you were glad of it. The anxiety fell away, your heart slowed, and you became aware of the grip you had taken on Percy’s jacket, at the base of his spine, scrunched between your fingers.

“You must be hungry,” she nodded. “Come. Sit with me, let’s talk.” She waved a perfect hand, and the room came to life. Candelabra chandeliers lit in warm yellow, and the dirt fell away from the room. The fountain sprung to life, trickling water, and a pretty table and chairs set appeared waiting, the length of the table filled to the brim with sweet sandwiches cut in small triangles, and tiny plates holding delicately decorated chocolates.

You didn’t realise you’d gotten so hungry. How long hadn’t you eaten for? Time passed so different here, it could have been a whole day, or two. Grover got right to pouring the lemonade, adorned with fresh strawberries, gulping it down like he’d never taken a sip of it before. Understandable, in your eyes.

Gradually, you unclenched your stiff fingers from Percy’s jacket, hand falling away. “Who are you?” He asked, approaching the table.

You didn’t sit like the boys, but instead reached for a sandwich, and then another, and another, and another. Standing opposite each other, you blinked as she spoke with pretty, gentle eyes.

“I am Hera,” she smiled. “Queen of Heaven.”

Ah. That’d be the familiarity, then. Godly hierarchy. You didn’t feel unnerved up close to her, but so much more relaxed than before. She took the pitcher of lemonade from your still-shaking hands with the gentleness of a mother, and you didn’t even stop her from pouring you a glass. You thanked her quietly, and she reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“What are you doing in here?” You asked, lacking formality. Hera hummed softly, before snapping her fingers out of the blue. Instantly, you got cleaned up—your hair fixed itself without effort, feeling cleaner and less sweaty, tied back in a low bun. The dirt abandoned your clothes. The sweat and dirt cleaned off of your face.

“I came to see you, naturally,” she replied. The boys at the table shared a look.

You frown heavily. “I thought—I didn’t think you really liked heroes. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”

Something changed about her, but you struggled to place it. She waved a perfect hand. “Oh, water under the bridge! Because of the little…spat, with Hercules? Goodness, so long ago. I had so much bad press because of one little argument!”

You wouldn’t call attempted murder an argument, but hey-ho. You can’t stop the words flowing out of your mouth. “Didn’t you try to kill him, though?”

Hera laughed, though it wasn’t funny at all. She flicked an imaginary piece of dust from her dress. “Oh, dear, no. Greek myths, am I right? Hercules was my husband’s son by another woman; my patience ran thin, I’ll admit. But Zeus and I have come out the other side, we have an understanding. Especially since that last incident.”

Percy choked on his sandwich, red in the cheeks. You bug-eyed him, a warning. Hera dropped her hand from your hair where she’d been, dare you say it, admiring you. It wasn’t uncommon—your family’s friends and even strangers commented on your luckiness. You wanted to call it more of a curse.

“You mean when Thalia came into the picture?” Percy just couldn’t help himself. Hera’s eyes turned frostily on him.

“Ah, Percy Jackson, isn’t it? One of Poseidon’s…children. As I recall, I voted to let you live at the Winter Solstice. I hope I chose correctly.”

She turned away, like Percy wasn’t worth her time, and her eyes shone like she’d hit diamonds on you. It wouldn’t be a good idea to shy away from a goddess, any of them, never mind Hera, so though you didn’t particularly like the attention or extra care that she wasn’t providing the boys, you didn’t move away. Who knew what dire consequences she’d send your way? Grover spied you looks every few seconds, like making sure you were alright.

A sunny smile plagued her. “Anyway, I bear you no ill will, my girl. I appreciate the difficulty of your quest. Especially when you have old Greek troublemakers to deal with. Brave girl.” Brave, though you hid like a child.

“Why was he here?” You shoved a chocolate in your mouth. “I felt like I was dying.”

“Hmm, he likes to do that. The minor gods…they enjoy causing trouble, scaring young heroes. The minor gods, you three must understand, have always despised the very small roles they play. Some I fear have little love for our Olympus, and can easily be swayed to support the rise of my father.”

Kronos. Luke’s new best friend.

“We have to watch the minor gods. They give lip to Olympus, and yet—”

“That’s where Dionysus went!” Exclaimed Percy. “He was checking on the minor gods.”

“Indeed.” Hera stared at the fountain. “You see, in times of trouble such as these, even gods lose faith. They put their trust in the wrong things. Petty things, should I say. They stop looking at the bigger picture and turn selfish. But I’m the goddess of marriage; I’m into persistence and perseverance. You have to rise above the arguing and chaos. You have to keep your goals in mind, demigods.” Spoken like a proud soccer mom.

“What are your goals?”

“To keep my family together, of course! The Olympians. Right now, the best way to do that is by helping you—the ringleader of the quest! Zeus does not allow me to interfere too much I’m afraid, but once every century or so for a quest I care deeply about, he allows me to grant a wish.”

Like something from a Disney movie. You’re Cinderella, and she’s the fairy godmother.

“A wish?”

“Before you ask it, darling, let me give you some advice. I know you seek Daedalus. His labyrinth is as much a mystery to me as it is to you! But if you wish to know his fate, you should visit my son at his forge. Daedalus was a brilliant inventor, there has never been a mortal Hephaestus admired more. If anyone would know about Daedalus’s whereabouts, it’s Hephaestus.”

You consider this carefully. For anything, you could wish anything at all. But…

“How do we get there, then?” You ask. “That’s what I wish for. I want a way to navigate this maze.”

Hera’s shoulders drooped, and she looked disappointed. “So be it. But you ask for something that has already been given, I’m afraid.”

You blanch. “Huh?”

“The means is already within your grasp!” She spared a look over her shoulder…at Percy. “With him. Percy knows the answer.”

This time, you run cold. Unimpressed, you offer another, “What?” Percy sits up straighter in his seat, fumbling like a fish out of water.

“I do?” He panics.

“But you’re not telling us what it is,” you pry, being careful. “That’s not fair.”

Hera shook her head of pretty hair. “Getting something and having the wits to use it are two different things, darling. I’m sure your mother would agree.”

The floor vibrated as thunder rumbled from high above, reverberating all the way through. “That would be my cue,” Hera beamed. “Zeus is very impatient. Think on what I have told you,” she aimed at you, “locate Hephaestus, and the rest is smooth sailing! You’ll have to pass through the ranch I think, but don’t stop, and use all the means at your disposal…however common they seem.”

She pointed across the room, where two doors had appeared. They flung open, revealing two dark corridors.

“And one last thing,” she clasped her hands together. “Try not to run into any more troublemakers. The minor gods are unlikely to give you an easy time, and, well, I won’t be back. Farewell, my heroes. And good hunting, as they say!”

She waved a hand, and turned into a puff of white smoke. The food and the table disappeared, Grover and Percy falling off of imaginary chairs. The fountain stopped running, the walls turned grimy, and the room became dark again.

All that aside, you were pretty mad.

“What sort of help?…”

“Well,” said Grover. “She said Percy knows the way. That’s something at least.”

You round on your friend, whose cheeks are pink. “But I don’t!” He protests. “I don’t know what she’s talking about. Honest.”

You sigh deeply. “Alright. Whatever. Which way now, then?”

“Left,” said Grover, getting to his feet and hurrying along to the entry. “Because I hear something big coming from the right.”

Percy caught your wrist in his hand. “Left sounds good. I vote left.”

Together, you disappeared into the dark corridor.

AYO what do we think of this one then? Honestly I got a bit stuck, but I think it turned out alright. I had to replace Janus with my imagination (though after the day I’ve had it’s LACKING) because he creepy fucker scares me as much as the cat in the hat does.

taglist:

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx

@rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress

@distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky

@emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl @tojismassivemantiddies

@xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138 @i-love-books-and-the-bible @obxstiles @mxltifxnd0m

[crusty-chronicles]

sorry if this is a bad time to request and feel free to put this off till whenever or even delete it if you're sick of airheaded stronk s/o asks

I was wondering, could you do short headcanons about how hiei and/or kurama with a stronk/airhead s/o would react to someone random or even a minor antagonist actively being rude their s/o while they're in earshot

[for a more specfic example maybe that eyeball at the gate of betrayal calls their attempted sacrifice foolish or the pretty boy purple guy from the dark tournment says smth like "it's a shame such a pretty face is wasted on such a brainless oaf" which has the added bonus(?) of sounding underhandedly flirtatious.]

again no pressure to write this quickly or at all. i just figured i'd throw it in your ask box incase it interested you at all.

Also entirley seperate question but would you be willing to cover roroanora zoro in your stronk/airhead s/o series?

BONUS AIRHEADED S/O DRABBLES: How they react to someone insulting their S/O

An: Of course I don't mind! Never be afraid to request things, it just might take me a little bit to get to them but really I enjoy doing them!

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

Kurama:

More than likely it would be a comment from Yomi or Kaito that would make him lose his cool. For this instance though, we'll go with the latter.

🦊🦊🦊🦊

It was a little after Botan got her soul stolen that Kaito decided to run his mouth. You having been kidnapped with Yusuke because where one went, the other followed. Much to Kurama's dismay.

"You've got me curious, playing house with a human I'd figure would be so far below you. Do you find them amusing? Maybe think of them as some sort of plaything? A way to keep yourself entertained?"

The taunt was an attempt to make the fox demon slip up. And it seemed to be working judging by his glare and increase in spirit energy.

"Did I strike a nerve? Don't tell me the great Yoko Kurama is actually infatuated with a human. And not a very bright one at that." There was a smirk on his face that only grew seeing Kurama manipulate the plants around him. Knowing he couldn't physically hurt him at the moment.

"You should have seen them. Getting all worked up over Urameshi being immobilized, only to fall for the exact same trap. It was almost too easy. Even when being told moving was useless, they still struggled. Yelling out curses and promises to...what was it? Oh yes, 'kick out asses' I believe. I never would have pegged you as the type to go after a stupid brute."

His cackling was soon disrupted by the sound of Kurama's voice. Speaking up at last with a tone so cruel, it temporarily frightened Kaito.

"You should hope I don't find a loophole around your no violence rule. Because if I do, you'll regret every last word." Eyes glowing an eerie golden.

When he finally bested the snarky human, he half thought to just crush his soul. No only because he put his friends in harm's way, but he also insulted you.

Insulted his relationship with you.

Buuuut, Kurama wasn't exactly allowed to end a human's life. And he refused to stoop that low anyways.

No, he'd just leave Kaito the way he was and focus instead on getting you and Yusuke back safely.

Overall he's petty about it, but not angry enough to lash out. He'll let it go for now....But if it happens again all bets are off.

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

Hiei:

For Hiei it is most definitely Shishi that gets to him. I feel like maze castle is a little too early for him to get mad at someone making fun of you. Maybe a comment of 'A foolish sacrifice and yet you're the one who's dead'. But if it's during the dark tournament on the other hand 👀👀👀

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

Kuwabara had just gotten teleported to who knows where. Leaving you, Hiei, and Kurama left to fight. It was just your luck that the die landed on your name. The other once again on Shishi's.

"Oh great, another bumbling idiot. At least this one is easier on the eyes." The demon commented as you made your way onto the arena.

Already Hiei could feel his blood start to boil. Disliking the way Shishi seemed to look you up and down.

"Perhaps defeating you will boost my popularity. Just don't die so quickly. I want to be able to entertain my fans."

You were already getting tired of this guy yapping. And it didn't help that he made your best friend vanish into thin air.

"I wouldn't be so sure about you beating me."

But at your comment, he only grew angry and snapped.

"Are you delusional or just that stupid? You think I would let a mere human beat me? Especially one as klutzy as you."

You were not a fighter to be underestimated. Hiei knew that firsthand. Yet you continued to let that cretin berate you as you fought.

For some reason that made him furious. Wanting to both put him in his place and let you teach that bastard a lesson. He took a step forward. Already deciding that if you did indeed lose this fight, he'd be the one to beat that egotistical demon.

A firm grip on his wrist stopped him from taking another step forward.

"Refrain from doing anything foolish. I know you care for them, but you'd only be damaging their pride more by stepping in." Kurama scolded.

The words temporarily snapping Hiei out of his protective thoughts.

"Tch, I don't care for them."

Hiei is absolutely ready to throw hands on your behalf. Yes you're foolish, but you're his foolish human. The only one allowed to insult you is him.

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

MASTERLIST

[tillytimeblog]

if the sea of monsters was the book where i thought the ending was mostly good vibes, the battle of the labrynth is the opposite. i mean all of percy’s friends are going through something personally traumatic/devastating at some point. some of these things get resolved, and some…don’t.

tyson meets his hero, but briares is a shell of himself and even when tyson risks his life to save briares, briares still has given up all hope and just walks out on tyson and the rest of the group. plus tyson finds out the rest of the hundred handed ones have faded into nothingness. we don’t really get much insight into tyson but you can tell it’s constantly on his mind because a lot happens between meeting briares and meeting hephaestus yet tyson feels that is the one very important thing he has to talk about.

clarisse had found chris, driven to madness by minos in the labrynth, and can do nothing but watch him slowly deteriorate worse and worse. we only get a glimpse of chris’s condition but it’s obvious it’s bad, which makes seeing clarisse’s private care for him and her softest side for the first time hurt all the more. clarisse is another person we don’t get much insight to at all, but we know her own experiences in the labrynth plus what happened to chris was enough to make her storm out of the council and swear off the labrynth forever, plus make percy promise to kill daedalus on sight.

rachel only really shows up towards the end, but being thrown into the deep end in the world of monsters getting held captive by swordpoint in the arena plus witnessing pan’s death as the daughter of a huge land developing father is obviously a lot to handle for her. plus she is totally aware of the impact she is having on percy and annabeth’s relationship (way more than percy does) and she clearly doesn’t want to make things rough for them at all, yet she still leaves needing reassurance from percy and a agreement to stay in touch, almost like a lifeline. percy was her sole introduction to the whole truth about the world of monsters after all.

speaking of pan…poor grover, man. his whole life���s ambition was to find pan and save the wild, and he arrives just in time to see the very end of pan’s life. honestly, grover gets a lot of development we only see a glimpse of too. he gets a girlfriend (juniper rocks btw), he spends months out searching, he stands up to the council of cloven elders multiple times, and he takes up the burden of saving the wild upon himself and any satyrs or others willing to listen to him. annabeth says it best when she says grover is growing up, he really is the most mature of the group and he shows it by chanelling his grief into more productivity than anyone else

nico is dealing with his sister’s death very poorly, seeking solace in the worst places (minos) and placing blame where it shouldn’t go. he’s just so, so angry and distraught on the outside and the inside, for numerous reasons. there’s really isn’t a lot to say about him that isn’t already said in the book tbh, nico gets a lot of attention because nico is the number one thing on percy’s mind besides the quest since he feels responsible for nico running away. so we get a lot of explicit nico content as opposed to implicit content for tyson/clarisse/grover. i will say that nico being convinced by minos into going back into the maze specifically to save percy, only to be tricked and captured, hurts much more knowing what we learn about nico much later on

and then there’s annabeth. man, she just has it so, so rough and it hurts so much to read all the different ways life has it in for her. she’s chosen to lead her first quest, the thing she’s wanted to do since she was seven, and everything about it is just terrible. we don’t know this until the next book but luke has already recently visited her and offered for them to run away together, and she turned him down. then she meets janus and is offered to make a choice, which definitely reminds her of the choice she made to leave luke behind. she gets her prophecy and the last line is ‘lose a love to worse than death.’ she’s so shaken by this and doesn’t tell anyone about it, not before or during or after the quest until the very end of summer when she tells percy. she chooses to travel in a group of four knowing it’s unlucky because she really needs the comfort of all the people who care about her. and then she loses them all in the span of like, an hour. tyson and grover split from annabeth and percy even though annabeth is insistent splitting up is a bad idea, then percy blows himself and a volcano up right after annabeth kisses him for real for the first time. she has no one left, and she feels like she has failed. all she can do is go back to camp half blood and cry and wait. for two whole weeks!! for two weeks she probably thought that all three of the people she had left in the world had died because they came with her on the quest!!! or percy at the very least, since grover and tyson could just be stuck in the maze. but percy is absolutely presumed dead, since he ends up crashing his own funeral. annabeth gets to be happy the guy she kissed is back for all of maybe five minutes, because she first realizes he was stranded with calypso and then he tells her his plan to navigate the maze is to call up the cute mortal girl he barely knows so she can do the thing annabeth, daughter of athena, couldn’t. nice going percy. how do you not realize why annabeth is mad at you, dude? anyways, after all that…luke becomes host to kronos. which he warned annabeth about. which wouldn’t have happened had annabeth chose to run away with him and escape his destiny. and because of that choice to not run away again, the guy who was her family after she ran away originally is gone for good. and then what does she do after telling percy the final line of her prophecy, and making enemies with hera? she runs away. before percy has the chance to say something and try to bridge the distance between them. why? we don’t know for sure since it’s percy’s pov and not hers. maybe it’s because they haven’t been able to talk about luke all summer. maybe it’s because percy told rachel he’d like to keep in touch. maybe her heart couldn’t bear to hear him say anything about luke, or rachel, or the two of them. or maybe it’s because she had already read the great prophecy years ago, and knew no matter what he could say or promise, percy was fated to die a year from now anyway.

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 30

chapter 49:

1. jegulus jumpscare (it’s a dream i wasn’t expecting)

2. shit. the dream is about their wedding plans. i- i can’t do this shit while reg is in the arena

3. shit it’s raining and i know reg can’t handle it because of the last crimson river/arena

4. god, sirius wakes up to the rain and his first thought it to go save regulus

5. “"Lily, have you been using sex for favors?"

"No." Lily pauses, then snorts. "Well, alright, so this is how it works, yeah? I'm already having sex, and then I'm like, say, look at you all laid out and desperate to give me what I want; don't you want to do this very small, very simple thing for me? And then they mostly always say yes, and they get what they want, all while I'm having a grand time and also getting what I want. See? Win-win.””

😭😭😭 i love her your honor

6. “”I cannot believe that this revolution is partially running on your competency in sex."

"Oh, if only it could fully run on that. Everything would go so smoothly. Shit, we'd win the war in, like, a week.""

😭😭😭💍♥️ marry me please

7. “”I keep telling [Effie] I know exactly how to make her feel better, but she insists she's a married woman, and also far too old for me. Disappointing, really.”” 😭😭😭

8. james confronting lucius has me scared for remus. like, i know they can’t trace it back to remus, but i’m so scared

9. james is pissed at the world and it’s honestly scary

10. i know james is trying to use donations, but i’m also aware that riddle wants to make sure no donations make it to reg, sirius, or marlene

11. “"Aw, your boyfriend sent you a present," Rabastan teases, his tone lighthearted and good-natured.

"Fiancé," Regulus corrects sharply”

GAGGED. he took james’ words and fucking ran with it like nobody’s business

12. not narcissa welcoming james to the family 😭😭😭😭

13. james sent him a bagel and all the death eaters are making fun of him for being gay over it 😭😭

14. all james sent on the card was “???” 😭😭 pls that’s so funny

15. poor eli

16. the sad bonding over marlene and sirius having recovered from drinking problems

17. don’t tell me that the fucking crimson river hands are coming out the hedges. i- god i hope reg gets to personally witness riddle’s downfall

18. AND THE FUCKING GREEN MIST??? FUCK THIS

19. “You never truly do feel as alive as when death is breathing down your neck.”

oh he’s insane as hell. a black for sure

20. shit. sirius’ mind just went blank in the maze

21. the hallow is cruel beyond belief for this

22. “He has had dreams of Regulus, ah, using his dagger during…intimate moments, but is that something he'd actually do? Well… Okay, bad example.” 😭😭😭😭

23. james was so close to an epiphany about mcgonnagal making everyone hate the games. he was so close

24. “Thorfinn said he'd have to be killed to be stopped from going after Sirius, even though Regulus explicitly told him what he'd do about that, and so Regulus killed him. Newton's third law: for every action in nature there is an equal and opposite reaction.”

bitch do not pull physics into this 😭😭

also that means that sir isaac newton existed in this universe, which if we see this as a future for our universe, it means that homophobia was prevalent at one point and the world straight up just eradicated it. 🤷🏽‍♀️ pro for this universe ig

25. “When he lifts his head, the first thing Regulus sees is his brother.

The second thing he sees is Sirius' fist, just the flash of it, just seconds before it collides with the side of his face.”

he had it coming fr

[aotopmha]

In celebration of spoiler embargo lifting I want to talk about probably my favourite dungeon in Dawntrail so far and how it examplifies the shift in dungeon design while also being really cool narratively.

This dungeon is Tender Valley.

First, I think this might be one of the few dungeons in the game I absolutely love all of the bosses from on a gameplay level.

Barreltender flexing between attacks is super fun, but almost all of his attacks being broadening AoE effects makes him a really fun dance. You have just enough time to react to them.

I think the exploding cactusses are the hardest to dodge because the safe spot is so specific and fairly small, but you never have too much downtime and always have to pay attention somewhat.

It's a great example of bosses being more engaging, rather than necessarily "harder" and I think a great fresh take on a classic Final Fantasy enemy.

Anthracite, on the other hand, has a really interesting dance that you need to read your environment for solving.

There are the obvious big AoE bombs, but there are also two different shapes of holes that lead to the labyrithine sewer system.

If a bomb falls into the round opening on one side, the attack will go through the round openings on one side of the arena.

If the bomb falls into the square hole on the other side, the attack will go through the square holes you can see on the other side of the arena.

It took me a bit to figure out there were two different shapes, but combining this with the base AoE can make for a little more involved dance, since, once again, you can't sit still for long.

This boss is a great example of also testing your environmental awareness in a little more of an inventive way than maybe some other encounters.

As you move towards the third boss, the environment changes and enemies styled after the Skydeep Cenote.

Or are they?

And then there's an interesting mob situation where you enter a room, which the mob essentially uses to attack with lasers while you have to use the walls in the room to dodge them.

But just like with Skydeep Cenote, the reference point is now pretty obvious.

This is strangely similar to some of the mobs and contraptions in Qitana Ravel.

And who else is the final boss, but the Greatest Serpent of Ron-Tural!

Yes, Tural!

I has such a grin on my face when I saw it.

It's a great punchline if you've done at least even the starting part of the questline in Rak'tika with Quinfort and his dreams suddenly fit perfectly within lore. He just had dreams of The Source.

It's like a perfect capstone to that questline.

I suspected the Ronkan connection the moment I saw Y'Shtola with those tablets in the trailer, but considering the Ronkan principles of "history being learned, not remembered" and in turn their similarity of the Yok Huy's principles of "we die when we are forgotten", it all falls into place in a great way.

Very smooth ties here. Now that we have this setup all nicely established, I wonder what else they plan to do with it.

It's "minor" enough on its own that it can just stay as a fun bit to further confirm Source/Shard connections, but I feel like Ronkans and the Yok Huy just might have some more important lore stuff coming.

We have the Shard travel plot line with Unukalhai and Cyella and the 13th and Ryne and Gaia also still truly looking to restore the First.

I'm curious if Rak'tika might just become extremely important regarding these plots now since we have this clear connection.

But this also is an optional dungeon.

We'll see.

To finish off talking about the dungeon itself, though, The Greatest Serpent of Ron-, I mean Tural, combines the two aspects of engagement of the previous two bosses.

You have the reactive aspects with reading the Bouncy Council (great name) and the various AoEs and the environmental aspect with Greatest Labyrith, where you have to find the correct path of arrows out of the maze.

I think there are varying solutions for the maze, but I'm not entirely sure. It's another great call back to Rak'tika, though.

I enjoyed the puzzle solo duties a bunch and I still think they're some of the more cool and unique ones from the game.

It's a very specific kind of "great" to me.

Some are really great at specifically gameplay/story integration (Amaurot, Dead Ends), some have really great set pieces/bosses (Matoya's Relict, Bardam's Mettle) and some just combine some really cool important "side" lore elements with great bosses (The Twinning).

Tender Valley feels like a Twinning moment to me where technically it is all "side" stuff, but not really because it is still connected to pretty important big picture stuff.

I'm curious what they'll do with it. And honestly okay with the answer is "nothing much", but I also don't buy it wouldn't have more importance in some way.

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

Beneath the Shine of a Thousand Spotlights Chapter 7 teaser

Miraculously (don't ask what time demon I've made sacrifices to) I was able to make Chapter 7 of my Vitya prequel ready for posting.

This chapter is set at Europeans 2015 where Viktor will reunite with Chris. Please enjoy this preview:

Nothing. It had been like this for too long. And so, Viktor kept skating, his focus on the intricate details like the twist of his wrist, the flexing of his fingers, the gaze following his arms, the change of edge, always right on the music. Technique was what an artist fell back on when they ran out of inspiration. The arena was frozen in awestruck silence as the music quietened and Viktor let all life bleed out of the performance as he slumped on the ice in his final pose. Around him walls of cheers shot up. Viktor drew in a deep, ragged breath as the adrenaline faded, leaving only emptiness in its wake. He rose and bowed to the audience. Then he gazed around. Under the rain of flowers and plush dogs a maze of ugliness riddled the ice. It looked like scars.

The chapter will be on AO3 on Monday night CET (I really hope I won't regret doing this...)

You can read the story so far here.

Whether you like this story or whether you think that your followers might enjoy it, reblogs are very much appreciated 💙💜

[climbthemountain2020]

Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met - Chapter 16

Ch. 16 | Ao3

Thanks as always to @cee_darling and @popjunkie42 for their beta reading! <3

Calla was sprinting, tearing down the muddy trenches and trying to maintain her balance as the massive beast of nightmares shot out from some hidden cave beneath the arena. 

The crowds were cheering, the sounds and movement teetering on the edge of violence as gold changed hands. They were taking bets on how long she would survive. 

Feyre felt like her heart was about to explode from her chest as she watched the scene unfolding before her. The creature looked like a giant snake with a face made of rows and rows of nothing but razor sharp teeth. It shot down the trenches after Calla as easily as if it were flying, the speed of it causing Feyre to fight for breath. 

Calla was running for her life, cutting around corners and slipping in the muck. She was barely keeping ahead of it, the various forks in the maze helping but not enough to give her the advantage she needed. Feyre could feel Rhys at the edges of her mind, and she remembered her promise. 

We cannot interfere. 

But what if Calla died in these trenches? What if their chances of ever escaping died with her? Feyre thought of the darkness, the stagnant air, the day-to-day horrors that became commonplace here beneath the mountain.The claustrophobia of living out the rest of her human life here made her head swim. Calla had to succeed in this–there was no alternative.

Calla reached a long flat straightaway, the trench laid out before her, but the worm was again on her tail, barreling through the mud not far behind. Calla saw it the same moment Feyre did–a crack in the walls of mud to her left. In her panic, she threw herself into it, cramming her small body into the egress, then stopping. 

Why is she stopping?  

But it was immediately clear to Feyre that the opening hadn’t been wide enough. Calla was clawing and sobbing, her wails audible to the screaming crowd demanding blood. Feyre, who had moved forward on the platform with everyone else, could see Amarantha’s face now, her smile curled with violent delight. 

Feyre looked back at Calla, the worm closing in on her, certainly witnessing the final moments of Calla’s life. She wanted to close her eyes against it– couldn’t watch as her friend, along with all of their hope, died. But at the very last second, Calla pulled through the crack with a squelching sound, falling out the other side and sobbing with relief. She gagged on the ground in the mud, nearly covered now, and Feyre filled her lungs with air. Her vision was swimming, her fingers clenching and unclenching violently with the need to help her.

Get up. Get up! 

Calla was up again like a shot, her feet still stumbling, but the distance between her and the worm had allowed her to breathe. The worm had shot right past the crack in the wall, hardly stopping to note the escape Calla had taken. 

How had it not seen her there? It should have easily seen where she went through.

The thought slammed into Feyre like a shot. 

It’s blind. It can’t see her.  

She shouldn’t interfere, she’d promised Rhys. But as she watched Calla running frantically through the muddied maze, she knew that she’d seen that hope for them all nearly flicker and die just now. She couldn’t let it happen. 

She pushed her magic out as far as she could, extending it past where she felt comfortable until her head pounded and she found the presence of Calla’s frantic mind far below. She eased in, the panicked thoughts nearly overwhelming her as she quietly took up space. 

Calla, it’s blind. It can’t see you. Cover your scent in the mud. 

Calla stopped short like she’d hit a wall, looking around wildly as Feyre snapped back from her mind, coming back into her own with a sharp intake of breath. She hoped no one had noticed the telltale signs of an exchange, but the crowd seemed too occupied with Calla suddenly covering every inch of her body in the slick, putrid sludge. She got up and immediately began running again, turning sharply around a corner and falling directly into a massive hidden pit on the other side.

Feyre couldn’t see Calla now, only the dark abyss of the creature’s den that she’d fallen into. Moments ticked by, the worm entirely on the other side of the maze, still roaring and searching for her scent. 

“Calla,” Amarantha’s called out. “You’re ruining everyone’s fun! Come out now!” 

But Feyre knew Calla wasn’t hiding. At her heart, she was a hunter, and Feyre had a feeling she was forming a plan. 

Minute after minute ticked by, and the worm drew closer, but every so often there was a snapping sound within the pit. Calla was working. Then, Feyre saw a hand with a massive bone clutched in it as Calla heaved herself from the hole. She held bones in both arms, then threw a bushel of at least seven more onto the ground and went back down, collecting more. When she’d made three trips and had all she needed, she began snapping them in two, creating violently sharp weapons out of each. 

She turned, painstakingly beginning to drag her arms down the wall. 

“What is she doing?” Murmurs came throughout the crowd. 

She’s building a trap. 

She worked diligently, stopping every so often to listen for the roar of the worm. Once the wall at the end of the straightaway was entirely scraped of the loose, horrid smelling mud and waste of the worm, she began to jam the bone spears in. The white fragments jutted from the walls like knives, pointing directly down the straightaway. Finally, satisfied with her wall of weapons, she jammed the three thickest bones into the wall, collected what remained of the pile on the ground, and ran towards where she could hear the beast in the distance. 

Feyre saw the plan as it took shape, predicting what Calla was aiming to do as she did it. She understood as Calla backtracked through the maze, jamming bones in at the corners, that she was going to try and lead the worm to its death on the jagged bones she’d set up. The feeling rushing through Feyre was wild with pride and awe. It was a huntress’s plan–a good plan– if it worked. She hoped Amarantha was sweating as she watched, too. 

Feyre’s blood was pounding in her ears, the rushing in them threatening to drown out all else. She would only have one chance at this. A single chance, and if it failed, she was going to die. 

They would all die here. 

Feyre watched her slow down, crouching into a stalking pace, the worm only a few walls away, entertaining the audience that taunted it from above. She reached the final turn and tilted her head around to look at it, then waited. She nodded once as if to comfort herself, pulled a bone fragment from her waistband, raised it without hesitation, and sliced across her arm. Even from the platform, Feyre could see the blood welling and dripping onto the sodden ground. Calla closed her eyes as though to steady herself at the sight of it, to prepare for the worm to smell it and for her to run. 

Feyre’s eyes flicked up from Calla only to see the massive worm was gone, and the fae that had been taunting it were smiling. Her stomach dropped. Calla was still standing at that corner, breathing with her eyes closed, ready to run. But the worm was no longer the one being stalked. Feyre saw it a split second later.

“ON YOUR LEFT!”

“YOUR LEFT, CALLA!” 

Two voices rang out at exactly the same time, clearly as the tolling of bells in the silent crowd, and all eyes were on them. Feyre’s eyes met Lucien’s from across the arena, could see his white knuckles clenching the sidelines of the stands from where she was. They’d both just risked their lives. 

But Calla was running, the worm right on her heels and following her just as she’d planned. She whipped around the corners, using the embedded bones to propel her faster. She was gaining precious seconds at each turn as the crowd roared around them, but now that they were in the final stretch Feyre worried the worm would be too aware of its own home to plow into the wall as Calla had hoped. There was nowhere to go after that wall if her plan failed–nowhere but the worm’s den. If Calla fell in there with it, it would be over. 

Feyre wished for just a moment she could see into the worm’s head. 

Well, why couldn’t she? She wondered. Would that sort of thing even be possible? 

Her mind was spinning a mile a minute. If she asked Rhys, he would try to stop her. Protect her at all costs. 

Don’t interfere, don’t interfere , but she already had, twice, and if she could do it once more, they could have a task completed behind them. 

She reached out once more with her mind, the exhaustion and pain of doing so immediate against the inside of her skull. Her powers weren’t used to stretching this far, and Feyre knew she was pushing the boundaries. When she bumped up against what she thought might be the worm’s consciousness, she pushed in, the walls around its strange mind nonexistent. 

But the inside of its mind was like nothing Feyre had experienced, the odd, hissing instinct of it surrounded by a boundless void– its only drive to feed, to follow the blood. 

Feed, blood, eat, kill. 

The words clanged through Feyre’s mind on repeat, the swell of it making her nauseous and dizzy. It was so vast yet so limited, Feyre felt the acid rising within her throat. It was a coffin of a mind, and she’d never felt so constricted and oppressively trapped. But she could see Calla through the great beast’s mind, feel its path of destruction as it barrelled towards her. They were closing in on the wall of bones, the last turn ahead and then it was a straightaway directly into it. 

As Calla then the worm turned the final corner, Feyre felt it– the sense of self preservation in the beast’s mind that overrode its need for blood, for killing. It saw the human running for the wall of sharp bones ahead, and it recognized the trap. Feyre felt it in every sense of her being. The worm was going to be able to pivot, break through the walls of mud, and corner Calla in the cave, exactly as she had feared. She was about to watch their hope die through the eyes of a monster. 

Feyre scrambled for any thought, any possible solution. This couldn’t end here, now. Rhys could grip minds, could force people to his will, and these powers were his. She was already exhausted, her skull vibrating with the pain of holding the worm’s mind with her own. But could she force it to cooperate? She didn’t know where to begin, but if she didn’t try, they’d all be doomed anyway. 

She tried to push the magic out, letting it surround the consciousness of the monster as it fought to keep control. She surrounded its mind, pulling every bit of it inwards like the reins to a carriage until she felt it seeping into her very being. 

Feyre, stop.

His voice was urgent. 

You’re going to burn yourself out, Feyre, please. 

Not now. 

She wasn’t certain how she did it, but she managed to shove Rhys out of her mind, the hissing press of the worm and her own consciousness the only things she could feel. They closed in on the wall, Calla sprinting as fast as she could and the bones only feet away now. 

Feyre pulled back on the reins once more in the worm’s mind, urging it forward, forward, harder, faster. The gap closed, and the beast fought to slow down, but its body wouldn’t cooperate with its mind. And as Calla reached the final wall, she used the two largest bones to scale and jump over the wall at the last minute. Feyre slammed the worm straight into the wall of bones, then ripped herself out of its mind so violently that she nearly vomited back on the platform. Everything was too bright. The people were too loud. Jeering and laughing and rioting in her ears. 

Blood, blood, blood. 

She could still feel the worm’s thoughts in her mind. 

Her vision was swimming, and she lifted her wrist to her face to find her nose was flowing blood. But she’d done it. She felt like she might pass out, but she’d done it. She swayed, but something bolstered her back up, like a breeze almost holding her against the heaviness of her exhaustion. At first, she thought it might be Rhys, his magic always seeking her and helping, but then she recognized a different scent: roses and petrichor, the familiar smell prickling her eyes with tears. Tamlin was holding her up from collapsing. Everyone else had been focused on Calla and the worm below, but he had seen what Feyre had done. 

I am only allowing this because I am collecting my thoughts on what I just witnessed. Rhys was easily back in her mind and, amazingly, did not sound angry. Feyre nearly huffed a laugh.  I can’t believe you kicked me out of your head.

I know, please don’t be mad. I had to. 

You just can’t stay out of the mess, can you? 

That’s not what I came to do. 

She heard his sigh on the breeze, but he didn’t seem truly angry with her. More impressed and relieved than anything. She could feel that gentle breeze pulling back, her strength returning enough that she could hold herself, but when she looked back at Tamlin, he was still staring straight ahead. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. He was still there, and he still cared. 

Below, Calla was emerging from the other side of the wall. She was struggling to cross it, her arm visibly bleeding and torn out of socket as she jumped over and landed on the worm’s corpse. She stumbled to the end of it, down the trench, until she came to stand in front of Amarantha.

“Well, I suppose anyone could have done that.” Amarantha’s smile split across her face, but there was nothing except pure venom in her eyes as the attor swooped down and grabbed Calla off the muddy ground. She yelped as her arm jostled, then again as the attor dumped her back on the platform. She made eye contact with Feyre first, a curt, nearly imperceptible nod showing her gratitude. 

The silence stretched between them as Amarantha glared down at Calla’s heaving form. “Take her away. I tire of her boring human face.” She was doing her best to make her tone sound uninterested, but she was clenching the arms of her throne hard enough to turn her bony knuckles white. Then, the guards were hauling Calla back out of the arena as she stumbled, her body barely able to carry her weight. The crowd was quiet as she went, immediately beginning to disperse once they were gone and Amarantha angrily winnowed out, taking Tamlin with her. 

Rhys and Feyre held back a bit, trying to prevent anyone from seeing how unsteady she was on her feet and taking any guesses at what she might have just done. Somehow, the room managed to clear as she waited obediently at Rhysand’s feet, his casual, relaxed appearance rippling out and keeping anything from looking out of the ordinary. When the room had cleared, he helped her up. 

Can you stand a winnow?

I truly don’t know. Even talking to him in her head hurt–her skull pounding and pulsing with pain every time she moved. He felt his arms go around her as she stood and stumbled. 

Come, hold on to me. Let’s try.

She did as he said, her fingers gripping into his tunic as they whirled away into a blast of night. 

They hit the ground in their room and Feyre’s knees buckled. She could feel her nose bleeding again in great, warm rivulets down her face. Her head was pounding so hard she could barely see. She felt Rhys pick her up, his arms going behind her back and under her legs as he carried her to the bed. 

When the silk hit her back, she let herself relax into it, and when she felt his cool magic wash over her, she nearly moaned in relief. 

“I can’t fix much with burn out, but I can take the pain,” he murmured, pushing her hair off her face. It hurt too much to open her eyes. A few moments of silence passed before she felt him running a warm, wet cloth beneath her nose, cleaning the blood from her face.

“Gods, Feyre, what were you thinking? That could have killed you.” 

She spoke, her voice a rasping whisper as though she’d been screaming for hours. “It was going to kill her. If she’d died, our chance would have been gone forever.” She heard Rhys sigh, felt his fingers tracing the line of her jaw, her nose, her cheekbones. “I’m sorry I worried you. But I don’t regret it.” 

He chuckled quietly in response. “My brave Feyre. How the fuck did you get inside of the worm’s mind? That shouldn’t have been possible.” 

“Is that not something you can do?” 

“I don’t even know. There are so few daemati, and it’s always been deemed too dangerous to wade into the consciousness of a monster for the risk you might get stuck and never be able to retreat.” 

“Oh.” Feyre hadn’t considered that possibility. Still, as she laid on the silk sheets now, pain gone and Rhys holding her tightly and stroking her face, all she could think of was that they’d won this round. Then, she thought of Calla, brutally injured and being led away back to the dungeons. 

“Rhys, please go heal Calla. Help her.” 

“I will, but first I want to–”

“No. Go now. She is hurt badly, and if I am in pain, hers must be ten times worse. Please?” She cracked an eye open to look at him. 

“I can refuse you nothing, love.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, light and lingering. “Now sleep.” 

And Feyre let go of consciousness at last. 

+++

Days passed without incident, the daily chores coming to a stop and Feyre spending her time in their room. She hadn’t seen Calla since, though Rhys had gone down to the dungeons immediately to heal her. 

“Did she seem okay to you?” Feyre had asked the next morning.

Rhys seemed a little slow to respond. “Physically? She was fine when I left. Mentally? I’m not so sure. She seemed very shaken up by it all.” 

Feyre would need to check in on her, make sure that she was supporting Calla in every way that she could. 

Though Rhys was called away often during the days, Feyre spent her time training, remembering all of the physical maneuvers that Andras and Lucien had taught her and staying active to keep her mind from spinning out over things she could not change. 

When Rhys was there with her, he made a point to help her train with magic and combat, at least as much as they could in the confined space. When Feyre struggled with a power, Rhys was there to give her all the guidance that he could, especially when it came to his own powers. 

“Fire has always been easy for me, at least.” She tossed the flame from hand to hand as she smiled coyly at him. 

Show off.  

She laughed, but the delighted smile on his face set her entire heart as ablaze as the flame contained within her hand. 

“Did Lucien practice this with you?” 

“Daily. We’d do it right before we all began drinking,” she laughed. 

“Did he ever feed you power? See how far you could push yours with it?” 

She dropped her hand, letting the flames lazily climb her arm as Rhys came to sit beside her at the table. 

“I don’t think so. What does that mean–feed the power?” 

“Here, put your arm back out.” She did, and the fire coalesced into a tiny orb in her hand. “Just focus on holding it.” He brought his hand up slowly, his fingers encircling her wrist. She loved the touches between them, her heart skipping a beat at each fingerbrush. As they grazed over her pulse point, she inhaled and he smiled. “None of that now.” 

She debated throwing the orb of fire at him and his roguish smirk, but shook her shoulders and refocused instead. Without more warning, a wall of power slammed through her chest so violently that she yelped, her eyes snapping open only to find she was entirely engulfed in flames as Rhys smiled from next to her. 

“What the fuck happened?” she asked, breathlessly, and he shrugged. 

“Transfer of power. It’s easy to do if two people are close enough, or if they’ve got enough power.”

“You gave me power?” She looked at her body, awash from head to toe with flame, the warmth soothing but not overwhelming. 

“It was easy. There’s already a bridge between our minds, I just shoved some of my magic down it.” She watched as the flame wound around her knuckles, the magic in her chest humming contentedly as she allowed it to play. When she looked back at Rhys, he was staring at her with something akin to pride in his smile as she tempered the flames back down, that extra magic fading peacefully into the background like a receding wave. 

“Thank you. That was lovely.” 

“Any time, darling.”

Feyre could feel herself growing stronger every time she practiced, could feel the pulsing of power in her chest getting more powerful yet more controlled each day. She’d still had no luck winnowing on her own, but she’d had Rhys winnow her to the dungeons twice to see if she could find Calla. Both times, Calla was nowhere to be found. 

Otherwise, it seemed there would not be any further repercussions from the first task, and court had resumed as it had been before. The first night back, they’d been wound as tightly as bowstrings, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But as each hour stretched by with them on eggshells, Amarantha seemed to have moved on. As they reached the end of the first night back without incident, they returned to their room, able to breathe deeply again. 

Each night after, Feyre sat perched on Rhys’s lap or in front of him, their conversations stretching for hours until they returned to their room again to sleep. Since the day in front of the fireplace in the room down below, they’d exchanged more intimacy between them, trading touches back and forth in the quiet darkness. Mostly, they spent the time exploring each other, learning their bodies with their fingertips while they pressed frequent kisses against the other’s skin. They hadn’t taken that final step yet, and Feyre would wait until Rhys led the way, his current situation one that neither of them could forget for long, and one Rhys still had to deal with in his own way. 

But for the most part, things had returned entirely back to their normal state in Amarantha’s court, the routine of the day-to-day allowing them to take a breath. One out of three tasks were complete, and the urge to breathe deeply in the aftermath of victory was overwhelming. 

This particular morning, she had asked Rhys once more to bring her to Calla’s cell, and found her in it this time. She was laying on her back on the lifted stone pallet of hay, her eyes trained on the ceiling above as Feyre peered through from her own cell. 

I’ll be back in a bit. Tell me if you need me, okay?

Okay. 

Rhys was gone, and Feyre peered through the crevice in the stone. 

“Calla?” 

“Feyre?” Calla sat up off the bench and swung her legs down. Her arm appeared healed, but she was still covered in a layer of grime and the look in her eyes was distant, exhausted. Feyre didn’t like how much it read like giving up. 

“Hey, I brought clean water and a rag. I thought you might like a bath.” Calla’s eyes lit up minutely at that as she nodded softly and pushed off the pallet. Feyre hadn’t brought water, but she quietly tore strips off her own tunic, and she cleaned the water in the wretched bucket still in her cell until it was clear as a spring and as warm as a bath. “I can’t get the bucket through the hole, but we can pass the cloth back and forth through it?”

Calla nodded again, still looking like the spirit had flown right out of her. Feyre couldn’t see much of Calla’s cell through the hole, only enough to see her makeshift bed, but she assumed it was the same as her own. She passed the warm wet rag through once Calla had stripped down, and Feyre looked away to give her privacy. They passed the rag back and forth, Feyre silently cleaning the water anew and warming it each time to make it as nice as she could for Calla. After a few quiet moments of washing, Calla spoke. 

“You helped me again.” 

“I wasn’t sure if you knew it was blind. I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing.” 

Calla didn’t speak for a moment, and when she did, her voice was hoarse. “You and Lucien warned me. It could have killed me. It nearly did.” In the chaos of everything, there had been that brief moment when she and Lucien had both called out to Calla in the pit. She was shocked nothing had come of it, but in her heart, she knew it had been the right thing to do. She and Lucien hadn’t spoken since the first trial, but she would check in with him this evening and make sure he hadn’t faced any consequences for it either. 

“Give me your clothes.” Calla handed them through the wall and Feyre washed them, cleaning the water with her magic over and over again, then warming them with her fire until they were dry. The cloth was stained beyond repair, but at least they felt clean in her hands as she passed them back. She knew it wasn’t much, but she hoped a clean body and dry, warm clothes would be enough to bolster Calla’s spirits. She still had two more tasks to get through, and Feyre worried for her friend that it seemed like she was already falling apart. 

Feyre looked away as Calla redressed. 

“Thank you, Feyre.” The words touched her heart, but the hollow look in Calla’s eyes, though lighter than before, sent pangs of concern through Feyre. 

“You��re the one saving all of us. There are no words we can say to thank you.” The two gripped hands firmly through the hole again, her time there almost up. “Hold on, okay? We will make it out of this, Calla.” She simply nodded, looking as though she were holding back tears. 

The whoosh of air behind her told her it was time to go. With one last squeeze of Calla’s hand, she let go, and Rhys winnowed her back to their room. 

+++

Rhys hadn’t been able to linger with her once they’d returned, so she’d spent the afternoon in the bath, working on her magic just like she used to in Spring. She’d stayed there until her mind was tired and her skin pruned from the water, then wrapped herself in a fluffy towel. Rhys had fixed her clothes that she’d torn to help Calla before he’d left, her tunic as good as new and clean and soft as she pulled it over her head. 

By her guess, it was still early afternoon. Rhys didn't know where she was sending him or what she needed him to do, so he hadn’t expected to make it back before court. He’d told Feyre not to dress for it tonight. He’d come get her if Amarantha demanded it, but otherwise she’d be fine to spend the evening relaxing. It had been awhile since she’d had some time to simply sit alone with her thoughts, no expectations or challenges on the horizon. So once she’d changed back into her clothes, she snuggled down into the bed, her eyes closing before she even hit the pillow, and allowed herself to sleep. 

Feyre was woken by thunder. The claps of it were so loud it nearly shook the mountain. 

She blinked her eyes open in the low light, the candles having burned nearly all the way down. The thunder blasted through the walls again. 

No, not thunder. Someone was pounding on the door. 

Feyre stumbled from the bed. Should she open it? This was Rhys’s room, and she was supposed to be his prisoner. What should she say? 

“Open up!” She recognized the hissing voice of the attor. She winced but moved closer to the door. 

“I cannot open his door. He’ll…beat me.” She tried to think of something convincing to say. 

“Orders from the queen. Open it, or I will break it down.” 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

She didn’t have glamours up–she would need to do them herself. She willed the magic over her, despite her exhaustion from her earlier practice. She tried to make most of the bruises and cuts look older since he’d been out all day, mussing her hair and clothes in the process. She checked her ears, looked in the mirror as he hammered against the door again. She hoped it would hold.

The second she pulled the door open, the attor’s claws were on her arm, ripping her down the hallway as the door slammed shut behind them. The halls were empty, but even from this distance she could hear the crowds within the throne room. She swallowed a knot in her throat. Something was happening. Another task already? She wouldn’t be able to warn Calla it was coming until they were all already there, and with the way she’d seemed in the dungeons earlier…

Feyre began to well and truly worry. As the attor dragged her through the halls, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think through the details of what could be coming, but the pit in her stomach was growing by the minute. 

She tried to reach out with her mind, find that familiar tether to Rhys’s mind that she knew so well, but wherever he was, it was too far for her to reach.  

As she was pulled through the massive doors to the court, she realized that the amount of people in here was abnormally large, even for the nightly celebrations. The crowd was packed in, Amarantha’s throne up in the front of it all as the attor tugged her to the front of the crowd. 

Was Calla being dragged from the dungeons, too? Could she try to warn her? 

But before she could even finish the thought, she was roughly tossed to the floor, skidding across the lacquered marble on her knees towards the throne. When she looked up, Feyre realized she was near the foot of the dais, the crowd having parted in a massive circle around it. Her eyes caught on the bright copper of Lucien’s hair across the opening, his eyes gripping hers as he mouthed what looked like I’m so sorry. 

Had something happened? Had Calla told their secret? 

Tamlin sat stone faced next to Amarantha, who was grinning like a fool, nearly every tooth in her mouth on display. Rhys and Calla were nowhere to be seen. 

Then Feyre’s eyes fell on the structure in front of the dais. It was an obelisk of stone, the tan rock covered in what looked like brown watercolor. At the top was a hook, and off the hook held chains. Shackles. 

The pieces began to fall into place right as Amarantha began to talk.

“Hello, pet,” she cooed down at Feyre. Feyre tried to slow the thundering of her heart as she looked up to meet Amarantha’s eyes. “Did you think I’d forgotten the little display you and Lucien put on at the first task?” Her eyes glittered with darkness, the gaze of a predator zeroed in entirely on Feyre. 

“ Please,” Lucien begged from the sidelines, the guards flanking him holding his arms. “Let me take it instead. Please, Amarantha.” 

She placed a single red-tipped finger on her chin as though deep in thought. “Hmm, no I don’t think I will.” With a nod to the attor, Feyre was being dragged along the floor, the marble too slick to grant her any purchase as she fought and struggled. She understood now: this was a whipping post, and she was going to be punished. 

Fae were whipped all the time as penance, Feyre remembered reading about it in books both at Vincent’s and in Spring. It was an ideal punishment because of their strong skin and healing abilities. Painful, but not fatal. 

But Feyre was not a fae. 

Her body slammed into the cold rock, her hands roughly pulled over her head and slammed into the heavy cuffs at the ends of the shackles. Her wide eyes tried to find Rhys in the crowd, tried to reach out for him again as a last ditch effort. She felt her magic writhing and ripping in her chest as though it panicked with her, a growing maelstrom of emotion and panic while she steeled herself for what was to come. This could very well kill her. 

When she still felt nothing from Rhys, she reached out to Lucien instead, his mind allowing her in immediately. 

Feyre, I am so sorry. 

If I die, you make sure he knows this wasn’t his fault. And you help Calla in any way you can to make sure she gets you all out. 

Feyre –

Promise me, Lucien. 

I promise. 

Even in her mind she could hear the emotion in his voice, the fear, the anguish. She felt the tearing of her tunic as her back was bared to the world, felt the cold of the stone as she pressed her face to it and closed her eyes. 

“Ten lashes, administered, I think, by our own little Lucien. An appropriate punishment.” 

“I won’t!” Lucien yelled, but Amarantha had been ready. 

“Would you rather I have the attor do it?” The silence that followed told Feyre all she needed to know, the reluctant steps coming across the floor towards her.

She would not cry. She would not cower. 

She had been fortunate since she’d come here to face no consequences for her quick decisions, for her bravado, and now her card had finally been pulled. She’d take the punishment she deserved, and she’d hope Rhys stayed away, and she’d pray to any gods that were listening that she made it to see another day. 

“Ten. Count them, Lucien.” A beat of silence, the crowd hushed in anticipation, then blinding stars exploded across Feyre’s vision as fire licked across her back. 

She sucked in a breath so sharply her lungs burned with it, the magic in her chest feeling like it was being pulled to the point of snapping. She ripped it back, afraid someone would see it. She checked to make sure her glamour was still in place through the pain. If she survived this, she couldn’t let any of their secrets out. But the pain was unlike anything she’d ever felt, the shock of it drilling holes into her very being. 

“One.” 

“Oh, come, Lucien. Do it like you mean it, or I’ll make it twenty.” 

The next crack across her back nearly brought the soul from her body, and she gritted her teeth against the scream that barrelled through her. She slumped against the cold rock, the inhale ragged in her lungs are she drew breath against the torture. 

“Two.”

Feyre tried not to focus on the pain as the whips came one right after the other. She focused every bit of her energy into holding the glamour up around her, clenching her jaw so hard against the agony that she was sure one of her teeth would crack. 

“Five.” 

Five? How could they only be on five. 

Her vision wss blurring, the nausea overcoming her as she pressed her sweating face back into the cold of the rock in front of her. Her whole body was beginning to slump against it, her legs losing the ability to support her with the shock of the injuries on her back. She could distantly hear herself groaning in pain, the sound eking out from between her teeth. 

The next hit curled over her shoulder, the new skin both a relief and a new swatch of razor sharp pain that stole the sense from her. 

Glamours up. Glamours up. 

She was losing her hold on it, though. That magic within her failing as her consciousness dulled at the edges. 

The darkness was swallowing her alive, but she thought she could see stars in it. Was this death? 

She could feel the blood pouring down her back and legs, sure it was pooling around her feet, but suddenly, she couldn’t feel it at all anymore. 

“Eight.” She distantly thought she’d missed six and seven, but she felt nothing anymore. 

Let go, Feyre. I have you. 

And no amount of clenching her jaw could hold back the sob when she heard Rhys’s voice in her head. 

I have the glamours. I’ll take your pain. I have you. 

Nothing had ever sounded as good, as holy. 

Her body jerked and slumped twice more, but she felt nothing except the sweet, warm embrace of emptiness, weightlessness. She could hear sounds in the distance, fuzzy and warped, as though she were listening from underwater. 

She remembered when she’d do this in the lake, sink down until she was just below the surface and wait for Elain and Nesta to worry. 

“Feyre.” 

Feyre, Feyre, Feyre. 

But she’d hold her breath and wait, staring at the blurred, blue sky through the lapping waters above until their concern truly began to show. At last, she’d burst forth, breaking into that clear sky above and scaring her sisters. Oh, how she missed them. 

But now, when she heard the voices, the sky above wasn’t that powder blue, but a purple and navy, and the waters around her were dark and deep and lacked the refreshing chill of the lake. She was warm here, the water jostling her gently as she stared up to see the dim outline of stars above the surface. She loved to look at the stars. She could close her eyes here, though something told her that drifting off beneath the waters was not the right thing to do. 

Instead, she breathed in and out, her lungs working beneath the water like magic, and the voices around her becoming less faded and more frantic. She could hear a muffled clattering, feel the lake bed shift, and when she surfaced above the water, she could count every star in the sky. 

Taglist: Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!

@cauldronblssd @buttercupcookies-blog @witch-and-her-witcher @yeonalie

[ave1dragon]

Today in: Wings of Fire headcanons made to work with my oc even though the canon is different:

The Skywing Arena is used for whatever the Queen wishes, not just for fighting. Queen Firestorm used it for art and beauty shows. Queen Scarlet uses it for fighting, and Queen Ruby uses it for a hospital.  

While the Sky kingdom is big, most Skywings live close to the palace. All eggs are hatched in the palace hatchery, and all dragonets are raised in the wingery.   

Skywings kill any dragonets with Fire scales or Animus magic out of fear that said dragon will grow up to kill everyone, although this law is changing with Queen Ruby. The parents of said dragonets would never have anymore dragonets. They did not kill the dragonet with too little fire until Queen Scarlet's time.

Skywings believe in offering their dead to the sky for seven days before being burned, so that the dead dragon reincarnates as a Skywing and not any other kind of dragon.  

Skywings are very religious and have a preists who have a lot of power. There is a priest in each town and a high priest who is second only to the queen. The priests are chosen by the previous priests and receive ten years of training. The priests not only conduct religious rites, but are also judges, healers, scholars and teachers, and mediators between arguing dragons and towns. The priest is always female and unlike Sandwing priestess, can get married.    

In the past, before Queen Firestorm’s time, The Skywings had a ceremony called the Clash of Claws tournament. Every seven years, Skywings across the kingdom appeared from across the kingdom to compete in seven challenges over seven days. The first day is Flame, all qualities are tested, the next is Endurance, a token is left on top of the tallest mountain in the kingdom, and the contestants must race to find it starting from the palace. This tests speed, stamina, and resistance to the cold. The third test is strength, Skywings lift heavy boulders from the Diamond Spray River, fly as high as they can, and throw the boulder as far as they can. The fourth test is cunning, elaborate mazes are constructed with secret rooms filled with treasure, the competitors must find this treasure while avoiding the traps, the winner finds the most treasure. Five is the test of Guile, find a scavenger, the most cunning of prey, and bring it back alive and unharmed. Sixth is the test of Wit, each competitor must correctly answer a series of riddles made by the Queen and her advisors. Seventh is a test of speed, a race to see who is the fastest Skywing.     

Skywings can either choose a partner or go through a program to be matched up by the queen. Skywing marriages were traditionally two dragons saying a few ritual words in the sky, with no other dragon around. After Queen Scarlet took the throne, she made all weddings celebrations and all celebrations with deadly gladiator battles, so Skywings stopped getting married. The Skywings didn’t want Scarlet to partner them, so most Skywings stopped partnering up instead.  

While Noble Skywings don’t put much value into family, the more commoner Skywings do and are often close to each other even after moving out.

Neither common nor noble Skywings are very romantic and marriages are mostly for lineage and dragonets

@wof-reworked had a Skywing headcanon that each Skywing family had a particular naming system, like all being named after different types of birds. The dragonets are named using the mother’s family’s naming system.

Skywings are one of the more religious tribes, so their schools’ teachings include the Skywing religious beliefs and legends.

Skywings mostly marry for dragonets and political reasons in the case of nobility, so they are generally not interested in romance as a tribe. However, they are very close to their friends in a way that more romantic tribes like the Seawings and Sandwings mistake as romance.

Skywings tend to be close to each other, despite the size of the Kingdom, as all Skywings are raised in the Wingery until age 2, and all Skywing dragonets must go to the Sky palace between the ages of 4 and 8 for battle training.  

Since the Sky Kingdom is so big, every town has its own noble family that reports back to the queen. The leader of these noble houses is picked out by the old leader on their death bed, instead of fighting to the death like queens do. The leader is also always female.

[daddyhausen]

may I request 43 + 49 from the nsfw prompts list with Kenny Omega, if that is alright with you? hope you’re having a gorgeous day / night wherever you may be, dear! 🖤

• headcannon — kenny omega •

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{ masterlists } | { aew masterlist } | { kenny omega masterlist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ warnings } — 18 + { minors do not interact }, semi-public sex, oral sex { male receiving }, face fucking / throat fucking, male orgasm, throatpie

{ word count } — 408

{ pairing } — fem!reader x kenny omega

{ genre } — smut

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ taglist } — @stxrrlightwrites13 @boutmachines @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @baysexuality @legit9thlunaticwarrior @slut4kennyomega @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @baybay-boom @bonehead-playz @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @eddie-kingstons-wifey @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980

{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ 43 } — are you sure? once i start i don’t think i’m able to stop

{ 49 } — we can’t do that here!

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with a death grip clasped around his wrist

twisting and turning through a maze of never-ending hallways and dead ends 

the arena seemed like one of those halls of mirrors you find at amusement parks 

finally giving up. settling in the small broom closet

his back pressed against the lock door, lips accepting your feverish kisses

the palm of your hand pushing hard against his cock 

“please…” you whimpered, so desperate and needy for his touch 

“we can’t do that in here!” he bellowed through a whisper yell

a slight groan in pleasure following 

“i can’t wait for another two months… “ you mentioned, this only being the first time you’d seen him in a couple of months due to his schedule 

only surprising him at the very last moment after his match 

his skin still slick and clammy with sweat 

you could not last another minute without him 

“are you sure? once i start i don’t think i’m able to stop”

“please kenny, i’m begging” already dropping to your knees before him

he gave a half-hearted sigh, beginning to pry down the waistband of his ring gear

your movements were feverish, so cock-deprived 

hands instantly reaching around his shaft 

pumping him as your tongue drew circles around his tip

the appendage flattening at the underside of his cock

tracing this thick vein that pulsed under the skin 

“fuck, princess-“

kenny pressed his back up against the door, biting his bottom lip in an attempt to silence himself 

your cheeks hollowed as you took him deeper

comfortably nestling him in the back of your throat, remaining still for the moment to try and gage his response

his hand instantly found its way into your hair

slowly pushing himself further down your throat 

with an occasion buck of his hips, loving the way you gag around his size

“nice and deep, baby. that’s it”

his grunts muffled in his throat, trying his best not to add onto the noise the both of you were already making 

he was quick to cum, without warning as he filled your throat 

keeping his cock firmly down your throat, savouring the way it tightened around his shaft with each gasping breath you gave  

the sounds of your chokes and sputtering was pure music to his ears

“well, since you're already here. why don’t we go back to the hotel and i’ll give you what you’ve missed out on. how does that sound, princess?”

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[shinonome-akito-vbs]

hey there you’re getting ethan nakamura lore from percy jackson and the olympians hot book series written by rick riordan because i need to cope and i have autism and my hyperfixations are so CR詠ZY that once i’m obsessed over something i will be obsessed until i turn thirtyseven years old and also because i quite like you and ethan nakamura and i would very much like it if my favorite pjsk character knew about my favorite percy jackson character

so where do i start. okay. let’s start on ethan nakamura right guys? yeah. so i have been hyperfixating on this stupid guy for years. it started when i was like nine or ten. when i read the first book he appeared in (the battle of the labyrinth fyi.) i was like “wow, what a silly dude. i quite like him.” boy oh boy was that just the beginning. hot diggity dog have i become an ethan nakamura superfan. keep in mind this boy had like atleast thirteen mentions in the series, tops. i was living off CRUMBS.

ethan first came to camp half-blood (the place where demigods [half god half human] go to train) with a satyr, those ugly half goat half human things. except grover. he’s not ugly. he was left unclaimed, meaning his godly parent, nemesis (goddess of retribution), did not claim him as her son. ethan felt like he was being ignored, and felt irritated because of this. this was what fueled him to join the titan army, aka kronos’ army (kronos is the evil titan dude who wants to kill the greek gods.) one day, ethan met his mother nemesis, who told him that in exchange for his left eye, he would some day balance the world’s power. ethan willingly gave her his left eye and covered it up with a black eyepatch.

!!!spoilers after this part perchance….!!!

ethan first appears in the battle of the labyrinth, the fourth book. percy (main character obviously), annabeth (percy’s stupid girlfriend i love her), grover, and tyson all travelled to the labyrinth (the labyrinth is a maze if you can remember) with a mortal girl named rachel elizabeth dare who could see through the mist (a spell thing that makes it so that humans are unable to see what demigods can see; monsters, swords, etc.) rachel accidentally leads the four into antaeus’ arena, where percy was forced to fight a dracaena. after defeating it, he then moved on to fight ethan nakamura. this is when he is first introduced. who cheered. i did. i cheered. ethan, despite lacking a left eye, had good swordsmanship and was able to attack well. however, his heavy greek armor tired him out quickly, and percy ended up defeating him. though, he spares his life. okay blah blah blah percy fights antaeus then percy, rachel, annabeth, grover, tyson, and ethan run away from the arena. ethan refuses their help like the boyboss he is and returns to the arena, where the titan army was. in a later chapter, ethan is seen resurrecting the titan lord, kronos. percy thinks of ethan as a traitor because of this. during the fifth and final book, the last olympian, ethan on the princess andromeda, a ship where the titan army stays. percy, accompanied by charles beckendorf (a hephaestus kid [greek god of fire and inventing.] y’know rui kamishiro would totally be a hephaestus son), board the ship and set off bombs in an attempt to temporarily set back the army. they both get captured, but charles sacrifices himself by detonating the bombs whilst percy jumps off board. i miss charles, but that’s another lore dump for another day. did you know…. ethan nakamura survives the explosion…. no? yeah, he did!!!!!!!!! who cheered!!! i did!!! ethan is then seen again when manhattan (new york, olympus is located in the empire state building in the book) is under attack by kronos’ army and the demigods are left to defend the camp. at the time, percy had bathed in the river styx, the same river that achilles bathed in to gain his strength, but percy’s weak spot was his lower back. ethan had somehow known percy’s weak spot and attempted to stab him there, but PERCY’S STUPID GIRLFRIEND ANNABETH decided to block it and take the strike herself. later on, when kronos was destroying the olympian throne room, percy begged ethan to change ways and proved that kronos was evil. in a moment of reflection, ethan rebelled against kronos and attempted to stab him with his blade. however, the knife shatters against kronos and a piece of the blade cuts through ethan’s stomach, making him the last person kronos killed. before his death, he told percy that the minor gods such as his mother nemesis needed to be respected and needed a throne as well, because they were thought of lowly. percy made a shrine for ethan after the battle and chose to remember him by his good deeds instead of his bad ones.

not spoilers! ethan is of half-greek and half-japanese descent, being the son of nemesis and another unspoken father figure who was never mentioned in the books. he is impulsive and very brave, and according to percy, was a very skilled fighter. he is driven towards his goals and determined to achieve them, despite the consequences such as betrayal. since his mother was quite literally the goddess of retribution, he always had a strong sense of balancing things, and eventually repaid the favor of percy saving him. like most demigods, he was born with adhd, which gave him the ability to last long in battle, and dyslexia, which allows him to read ancient greek rather than regular english.

ethan nakamura is my favorite character in the entire percy jackson series. thalia might be a close favorite BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT, ETHAN NAKAMURA IS THE MAIN FOCUS HERE!!! okay. so i’ve seen a lot of people legitimately hate or dislike ethan nakamura, which really makes me mad. like what did this boy do to you. what could this silly guy have possibly done to make you dislike him. not every titan army member is bad! except luke, i hate luke. back to our lord and savior ethan nakamura! he actually wasn’t that bad, but a lot of you HATERS are not ready for this conversation… he had a reason to join the titan army. he was ignored by his godly parent for, like, EVER. most demigods would’ve been claimed by now. this man is probably in the underworld  watching the kids in the other cabins sleep on beds while he had to sleep on the wooden floor of the packed hermes cabin. and that cabin probably smelled like body odor or something. okay, anyways. nemesis, his mom, ignored him for ages until she randomly pulls up, saying he’ll balance the worlds power. and since the gods are like the most powerful and he saw them AS powerful, he thought that maybe y’know…. getting rid of the gods would work. maybe that would balance the worlds power and make his mom finally give him some recognition. SEE HERE. CHARACTER DETAILS!! HE DID IT FOR RETRIBUTION!!! HE DID IT IN THE NAME OF HIS MOM!!! HE WANTED RECOGNITION!!! i cannot stress this enough. ethan wanted to be acknowledged by his mom. that was all he wanted. i don’t even KNOW if he got that in the end. he also had his character development. he tried to stab kronos, but that stupid blade shattered and straight up stabs him in the stomach. he dies!!! he sacrifices himself. and guess what!!!!! nemesis!!! is!!! associated!!! with!!! SACRIFICE!!! he died in his mom’s name! wowza!!!!!! no idea if his mom even cared, but wow i’d be really proud of my son if he died trying to save the world y’know… and in MY name too. if that’s not enough to satisfy nemesis, then i don’t know what is. then again, she’s a greek god. greek gods treat their children like crap. so i can’t really expect anything from them, much less nemesis. okay hi thank you for coming to be ted talk all my opps hate ethan nakamura

guess my favorite percy jackson character mode: impossible!!!

thats

a lot

of text

I did actually read the lightning thief several years ago