#and realized i'd want this book's world to have some of that tone

[fictionadventurer]

Lily Between Worlds is a bit of an odd duck when it comes to classification. I'd have a YA (or just above) protagonist, but this is not a YA story. That implies something between child and adult, but actually, I'd want to blend those two categories. I'd want it to have the level-headed maturity of a story for adults, but the wonder and whimsy of a middle-grade story. I think of it like a Pixar story--something that's equally suitable for every age level, like The Electrical Menagerie. I don't know, it's just something to keep in mind if I want to develop this further.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! - 11

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky had no idea that someone was making an evil plan against him. He had been advising you on managing Velari’s business for the past few days.

You quickly grasped the management concepts, learning from the best, Bucky. Another reason for your quick understanding was your previous business studies at a prestigious university. However, you couldn't continue your education due to internal conflicts within your family.

That was your biggest regret. You only bark but never bite. You managed to continue your education only because Cassandra sold her jewelry. You will never forget the sacrifice she made for you. You clenched your fists, remembering the heartbreak in her eyes when she sold her cherished possessions.

But still, whenever you tried to rise, life seemed determined to bring you down again. Genevieve used all her connections to prevent you from learning business and management.

You discovered this when you confronted the dean, who said, "Mrs. Sinclair donates a lot to this university, and we don’t want to disappoint her." You had felt a cold rage, your hands trembling as you realized the extent of her influence.

Most prestigious universities denied you. The only place that accepted you was a community college, where you randomly chose to study health and physical education because, at that time, you felt utterly lost and alone.

You just wanted to get a degree, any degree. You sighed, recalling the sense of defeat and the hollow feeling in your chest as you enrolled in a field you had no passion for.

Sometimes not expecting anything gives the best gifts. The lecturer and friends you met were the most supportive and kindest people you had ever encountered. That’s how you got the job as a teacher at Granite Hills Reform School, where problematic, delinquent students from all over the country were gathered.

It was tough at first; your teachers and the principal had warned you to be careful. But you felt like you could make some changes because you knew how the students felt: not being listened to, getting bullied, not being appreciated, and being ignored. You remembered the frustration in their eyes, a mirror of your own past struggles.

Comparing the discipline required for dealing with delinquent students who always gave outrageous excuses, working at Velari seemed easier.

After redefining the clothes' design with Andrea, you felt like the old Velari was back. You never thought redoing the design would be easier than looking at the accountant's records.

It was a mess. You ran your fingers through your hair, your brow furrowed in disbelief.

You scratched your head, unable to believe how much the business was bleeding. Bucky was also reading the numbers. "If you don’t do something, Velari will be closed in two years." His tone was serious, and his eyes met yours with concern.

"Urgh." You threw your head onto the book on the table and hit it a few times in frustration.

Bucky extended his hand and placed it on your forehead. His warm hand held your head gently. "Don’t worry, you can fix this." His touch and reassuring words made you pause, feeling a flicker of hope amid the chaos.

You felt your face warm up. Bucky noticed too. "Are you having a fever?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes.

You quickly moved your head away from his hand and shook your head. "No, I guess I hit my head too hard," you replied, trying to downplay your flustered state.

The chat between you and Bucky didn’t go unnoticed by Andrea, the senior designer. She bit her lip and continued drawing, stealing glances occasionally.

Bucky cleared his throat. "If you want, we could make a press release for a new rebranding for Velari."

"That’s a good idea," you nodded. "Can we also include AstraNova Group in the press release?"

Bucky nodded. "Sure." He looked at his watch and got up. "I’ll send the PR team to help you with the press release."

"Thank you," you said, your gratitude showing in your smile. Bucky smiled back and left the room.

"It was so sweet, I can't even describe it," Andrea remarked, taking off her glasses and smirking at you.

You felt your cheeks warm up again. "It's not..."

Andrea raised her hands in a mock surrender. "I won't tease you, but I saw how he always comes here and even stays with you until late at night. It says something."

You sighed, looking down at your hands. "I don’t know... To be honest, I don’t believe in romance after what I saw happen to my parents."

Andrea nodded sympathetically. "I understand, but not every story ends the same way. Sometimes, you just have to take a chance."

Andrea sighed, then approached you and gently took both of your hands in hers. She looked at you with a mix of concern and nostalgia. She remembered the first time Ophelia brought you to the shop.

You were cheerful, always laughing at the most minor things. But everything changed after Ophelia died, and not even a year later, your father remarried. Understandably, you have trauma around love and opening your heart to another person.

“Give it a chance,” Andrea said softly, squeezing your hands. “If both of you share the same feelings, that’s good. And… if Bucky cheats, I’m sure you could give him a lesson.” Andrea chuckled, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

You chuckled too, the tension easing from your shoulders. It would be a lie if you said you didn't have feelings for Bucky. You glanced down, your cheeks flushing slightly.

Andrea noticed your expression and gave your hands another reassuring squeeze. “You deserve happiness, just like anyone else.”

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Thanks, Andrea. I'll think about it."

Andrea smiled warmly, patting your hands before letting go. “Good. Now, let’s get back to work. We’ve got a lot to do.”

👗👗👗👗👗

Since his memory returned, Bucky has been practicing touching other people. He started with his parents first. Though he still couldn’t hug them, he could hold their hands without feeling disgusted. His mom and dad were astounded and cried at the same time.

Finally, they could have physical contact with their son again without Bucky feeling nauseated or acting like they were germs. As parents, it was heartbreaking to see him struggle. The kidnapping stole Bucky and their chance to be an average family.

Juliana sipped her tea while watching her son read the newspaper. "So, today you’re going to be the honored guest at Velari?" she asked with a teasing smile.

Bucky nodded, not looking up from the paper.

"I never thought my son could be interested in fashion," she teased again, her eyes twinkling.

"Mom… I’m just… repaying the favor," Bucky replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Yeah… right," Rowan and Juliana murmured together. Because of Bucky’s condition, he never had the chance to have an intimate relationship with someone. He spent his youth only studying. So now, with Bucky and you? They couldn’t be happier.

Bucky wanted to smile at his parents' teasing but held it in. He stood from his seat, adjusting the buttons on his jacket. "I don’t want to be late."

"Why so early?" Juliana asked, looking up from her tea.

Bucky kept walking toward the door where the car was already prepared for him. "I have to stop by her house first."

"Tell her I said ‘Hi’," Juliana called after him, a knowing smile on her face.

Bucky paused at the door, turning slightly to nod before stepping outside. As he approached the car, he couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness, his heart pounding at the thought of seeing you.

🫖🫖🫖🫖🫖

Bucky arrived at your house and, as usual, greeted Cassandra first. She looked much healthier, having gained some weight since the first time he met her. Even with her dementia, Cassandra was always friendly to everyone. She was sitting in the garden with a blanket on her lap.

“Hello, Grandma,” Bucky greeted her warmly.

Cassandra’s eyes widened with recognition. “Ah, Patrick. It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it? Did you have breakfast?”

Bucky smiled softly, though he didn’t understand why she called him Patrick. After meeting a few times, she started using this name. He had mentioned it to you, but you didn’t know who Patrick was either.

“I’m sorry I made you wait,” you said, walking into the garden while adjusting your earrings.

Bucky fell silent, momentarily mesmerized by how different you looked today. Cassandra noticed, too, and clapped her hands in delight. “You look so beautiful, Ophelia. Did you make the clothes from my design again?”

You bent down and kissed her cheeks. “Yes.” Bringing your mother’s and grandmother’s designs to life was one of your greatest joys.

At least Genevieve and Victoria had never gotten their hands on the earlier designs. Kneeling beside Cassandra, you took her wrinkled hands and looked into her eyes. “I’m going to revive the old Velari.”

Cassandra tilted her head and caressed your hair gently. “I believe in you,” she said softly, her voice filled with warmth and trust.

🚗🚗🚗🚗🚗

The ride to the press release was quiet. You kept silently memorizing the speech you were going to deliver to the journalists and critics. In the fashion world, critics' words held significant weight.

Bucky sensed your nervousness. “Don’t worry. You can do this,” he said, his voice steady.

You took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Yes, I can do this.” Then, you looked at Bucky, feeling a surge of gratitude. You had reached this point mainly because of him.

“Bucky… I…” Your eyes widened when you saw Bucky’s intense focus on you, and he reached for you. “Wait…”

“Get down!” Bucky shouted, dragging your body away from the door. The movement was swift. As the car stopped at a red light, a big SUV suddenly rammed into Bucky’s car.

The car window shattered, showering you with glass. “What the fuck?” you exclaimed, feeling a mix of shock and fear.

Then you realized the person who had shielded you was trembling. You looked up to see Bucky, his face pale, his body rigid.

The traumatic memory of his kidnapping had resurfaced with startling clarity. He had just wanted to go home early from an event hosted by AstraNova, finding the party boring with no kids his age. But that decision had led to his abduction, a memory now mirrored in this moment. The nightmare was returning: the darkness, the cold, and fear.

“Bucky?” you called, trying to snap him out of his frozen state.

‘Bang.’

You hear the door closed from the SUV and see three big guys coming into your car. You saw the driver is fainted. “Shit.”

You touched Bucky's face urgently, trying to break through his fear. "Bucky, look at me! I know you're scared. Me too! But we can't stand still. We have to run. Argh…" Suddenly, strong arms grabbed you from behind.

The person was big and rough, wearing a ski mask. He muttered, "You're a firecracker, aren't ya?" His confidence wavered when you stared directly at him.

You continued kicking and squirming to escape his grasp, but his strength was overwhelming compared to your students'. Where was Bucky?

“Bucky!!!” you screamed, desperately searching for him.

“Don’t worry about him. We just want you,” the abductor sneered as he dragged you toward the waiting car.

Fear surged through you as you realized what was happening—had you just been abducted?

You kept kicking and struggling against the abductor, but he gripped your leg harder. “Be good, or I’ll break your fucking legs…”

“Help!” A voice suddenly cried out, weak and desperate.

You and your abductor both turned toward the sound.

What you saw was beyond anything you could have imagined. Bucky, whose body was smaller than the abductor's, had launched himself into action. With surprising strength and speed, he grabbed the other abductor and threw him in a wide arc.

The abductor struggled, choking and gasping for air. His resistance faded, and he went limp, unconscious. Bucky discarded him like a sack of garbage.

Your abductor's voice trembled with disbelief and frustration. “Fuck, she didn’t mention any of this.”

You were equally shocked. You had never imagined that Bucky possessed such strength and skill.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky had been quietly preparing himself for such situations. He had learned various martial arts and survival techniques, practicing diligently despite his physical limitations. Unable to spar with others, he had honed his abilities with machines and workout equipment, constantly pushing himself to the highest levels.

Now, faced with real danger, Bucky's training revealed itself. His strength and determination were beyond anything you had ever seen from him.

Andrea echoed in your mind, "If Bucky cheated, you could give him a lesson." If she could witness this moment, she would indeed be astounded.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

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Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

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Here's the link: Ko-fi

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[undiscovered-horizon]

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

It is nights like these that make Coriolanus ponder the 'what ifs?' the most; it is nights like these that bring Lucy Gray back to his mind, even after all this time. Even if she's unwelcome.

If he was a better man, a little less power-hungry and a little more altruistic, he would have missed all of this. He never would have found you - a deer so susceptible to the wolf's skilful machinations. So impressionable, so devoted... And what gamesmanship it truly is to make the prey believe there's some grace in being eaten alive.

He's leaning against the doorframe leading to the nursery - awake, although you have told him to go back to sleep when your newborn daughter woke her parents up. Coriolanus is watching the scene unfold from afar, never letting even the smallest of details escape his attention. He wishes to gloat, to bathe in his own triumph.

Your face, which once smiled so brightly only for him, now smiles for another. What's strange, is that it doesn't make Coriolanus as angry or bitter as it usually would. That territorial beast residing deep in his viscera is wary but not bothered. Not yet, at least.

The baby's cries die down as you cradle her in your arms. In gentle, almost fearful, movements, you rock the newborn. Coriolanus sees your lips move but the whisper is too low for him to discern any words. Whatever it is you say to the youngest Snow, it makes her giggle and babble. The sound reminds him of your own laughter, which he so easily elicits with the smallest gestures of affection. Maybe too easily - although just as exciting, it was never a challenge.

You gently lay the baby back down in her cot. For a moment, you study her face with an expression so loving it's almost pathetic. Coriolanus feels his skin crawl. Something animalistic within him beckons the man to do truly terrible things only to ensure that it's him and him only that you look at with such adoration.

But the urge dies down when you turn away from the newborn and meet his gaze across the room. He's back in the centre of your attention, where he belongs. Suddenly, something changes in your eyes.

That glint of devotion is clouded by something much more mischievous, something he used to absolutely hate until he learned about its nature. Since he met you, you've been looking at him with a hint of insightfulness as though you could see right through his facade and read about his sins on the pages of the open book that was his soul. He felt seen and not in a good way. Then, after learning a few things about you, Coriolanus realized that this perceptiveness is the best thing he could hope for - you were smart enough to connect the dots, to notice patterns not many deemed obvious and yet, too blindsided by love, you thought of his wrongdoings as right. Not in the ethical sense, perhaps, but in logic. There was a method to his madness and a very effective one at that. After all, how utterly foolish would it be to play nice while in The Capitol? In a world of "eat or be eaten", Coriolanus was going to throw a feast. You knew it early on and appreciated the wit and grit it takes to do so.

Standing now in front of him, you slightly lift one of your eyebrows, silently asking him what's on his mind.

"You're beautiful," he confesses.

Your lips curve into a smile. "Tell me something I don't know."

His blue eyes bore into yours. The intensity of his gaze makes you want to look away but prohibits you from doing so at the same time. "I'd burn the whole world for you," he whispers, his tone gravely serious.

Coriolanus feels himself shudder when the back of your hand gently brushes his cheek. Still looking at you, he tilts his head to kiss your fingers.

"I said 'something I don't know', love," you retort in an equally low voice. "Now come, the morning is still far away."

You take his hand in yours, pulling him back towards your bedroom. And, for some strange reason, he lets you guide him.

If he was a better man, he would lead a different life. A more peaceful one, perhaps. But he's not a better man - in fact, he's far from being considered "good" or even "decent". Which is why his life is pleasant, instead of peaceful. And if awful things have brought him so much joy, why, pray tell, should he ever be anything but despicable?

_____

Me? Writing dark characters with dark themes? In other news, the water is wet.

[thatfreshi]

can i request the reader has an emotionally abusive parent and astarion finds out and protects and comforts her?

TW - Emotional abuse, gaslighting, domestic violence

Recommended Song: The Archer - Adam Melchor

After settling down in Baldur's Gate again, you and Astarion have been slowly trying to fit back into the city. It's hard though, after such a long adventure, after trauma and perilous feats, to just be a person. You've reached out to a couple of old friends, trying your best to explain everything without revealing too much, especially without Astarion jokingly baring his fangs and saying "Be warned, I bite." The dumbass seems to think reverse psychology works on everyone.

So word slowly gets out that you're back in town. People that you knew forever ago suddenly stop by the house, and each time Astarion has to double-check that you know them, paranoid about people coming into the home you've built for the two of you. You don't blame him one bit.

It's a Summer afternoon, and you've just come in from tending your little backyard garden. Astarion calls out to you as you come in the back door.

"Darling, there's yet another person here to see you."

He gets a little overwhelmed by all these people wanting to come see you, but he tries his best to be supportive.

"Alright, coming."

You take off your gloves and hang them up by the door, making your way to the front of the house.

"Who is it?"

"Not sure, she wouldn't say."

He opens the door, and a shiver runs down your spine. Your mother.

"Oh, it's so good to see you Tav."

She lunges for an embrace before you can step away, your body is in shock. 'Why is she here?' 'How did she find out?' 'Who could've possibly told her you were back in town?'

"And who is this handsome man?"

Astarion realizes you're a little stunned, and he takes over the conversation for you.

"Astarion, and who might you be?"

"Well I'm Tav's mother of course! I'm sure she's told you all about me." He words are lined with spite, poison dripping out of her mouth. Your vampiric lover senses the tension, and yet you quickly switch tones.

"Come on in mother, we can show you around."

A fake smile, a facade. He's taught you well how to hide your intent, especially in peril.

"Yes, of course."

His voice trails off, wondering what you're up to. You simply start a tour of the house, acting like you would with any old friend.

"So obviously here's the little living space. I'd like to have some more plants in here, but somebody has to have a place to store all his books."

You try to shoot him a playful look, but when you meet eyes both of you know it's wrong. You chuckle a little too late, almost robotically.

"Ah yes, Tav here used to read all the time as a little one. Read all those silly little adventure books, even wanted to go on one."

"Yes, but-"

"BUT, instead we kept our lovely little offspring around to help with the business for a while, convinced Tav it was best to help the family."

Something triggered in Astarion's brain, the way she said family.

"Yes, of course mother. It was the right thing to do after all."

He realizes you never spoke about your parents, or about any of your family members for that matter. You've always spoken so freely, without a care in the world. Suddenly you were stiff, conforming to a conversation that you had no control over.

"Well, everyone must leave the nest eventually."

He smiles, trying to relieve the tension, still analyzing your movements.

"Well, my child here just up and disappeared a couple years back, left me and my husband in shambles."

Clearly she didn't know about the nautiloid, or about any of your adventures.

"And yet suddenly here you are, a house, a lovely man, and you feel no need to tell your parents you're home? After all, we could always use the help."

"Well, Astarion and I have been very busy mother, finishing up the house, settling in."

"You know I could've helped with all that."

"We've been managing fine."

The conversation starts to get aggressive. Astarion goes into that protective stance of his, standing tall next to you and wrapping his arm around you.

"Yes, if we ever need help we'll certainly reach out."

There's a slight hiss at the end of his sentence, and you nudge him in the side, trying to get him to keep his composure.

"No need to get all defensive. Tav and I, we understand each other. I just worry, my child being out in the wild, adventuring through forests with all those miserable monsters."

"Would've been better being away from the worst of them."

You mutter under your breath. It's frustrating, this woman coming back into your life, trying to convince you to come back and 'help' her out with the business. You did almost all the work, under her hand. And when you said you wanted to leave and go out on a grand quest...

"You know what, you need to leave."

You finally speak up.

"Excuse me?"

She's shocked.

"Yeah, before there's another accident. Would hate if I broke my leg again."

Astarion's grip tenses.

"That was a sad coincidence and you know it Tav."

"No, you pulled the ladder out from under me while I was climbing to fix something on the roof, and I fell and shattered my leg, and this just so happened to be the day after I told you I was going to leave the city."

"I was trying to stabilize it after I saw it was falling. Don't blame your poor mother."

"And what about when you refused to have a cleric come see me, and I was on bed rest for months on end, while you did nothing."

Your mother goes to speak again, but Astarion cuts her off.

"As my lovely partner here has already said, I think you need to leave, now."

He unwraps himself from you, stepping towards the defensive woman.

"There's no way you believe Tav's idiotic lies. Don't be a fool."

"You're the fool, a fool who's about to lose their head if you don't turn around and leave this house."

She goes to say something else, watching as he goes to grab his trusty dagger. Instead she simply huffs, and storms out the door. Astarion slams it behind her.

"You'll come back Tav, you'll see reason!"

He quickly deadbolts the door and comes back over to you, and you finally break down. That woman, she terrorized you your entire childhood, and some mind flayer ship took you away from her, thankfully.

"You... you never told me about your mother."

"Yeah, I didn't think it really compared to all of your shit."

You wipe at your eyes.

"Now, we don't need to compare apples and oranges my love. It's abuse, all the same, all evil."

He holds you for a while. You're still nervous you'll hear banging on the door, but hopefully Astarion scared her off well enough.

"She'll never be back here, not if I have something to say about it. Here, come sit."

You make your way to the sofa, and he just holds you for a while. It's silent, except for his breathing and a few soft sobs from your sorrows.

"You know, I don't mean to pry, and you don't have to answer if you don't wish to... but did she really let you suffer like that? With your leg just, shattered?"

"Mhm. I couldn't walk for months. I still don't think it ever healed properly. I begged for her to get someone to come look at it, and she just kept saying 'no Tav, they'll just charge us for some bogus potions' and that was that."

He wraps his arms around you tighter than ever. He's lost in thought, going between thoughts of your pains and his own.

"We're so lucky."

You're a little surprised. It's not often he's such an optimist, especially at times like this.

"What do you mean?"

"I think we understand each other better than anyone. Your griefs echo mine, it just makes sense. Not to say I'm happy you went through that... but we're just lucky, lucky to have each other."

You plant a gentle kiss on his hand.

"I agree darling. Thank you, for always being here for me."

"Only because I know you'd do the same for me, my love."

The two of you stay cuddled there for a long time, not really saying or thinking anything. Just two people, sitting in the air of each other's freedom. Just two lovers who were the first to be loved by one another.

[jasontoddsotherhalf]

A Short Simon Snow Character Analysis:

"Simon needed time. He needed care. He still startled at bright lights and sudden noises. And prolonged eye contact. He'd get jumpy when we were alone together." (Any Way The Wind Blows pg 85)

"On the worst days, on the even worse nights, I used to think about all the bad things that have happened to Simon– just the ones I know about. And then I'd wonder about all the terrible things that have happened to him that I DON'T know about. Twenty years of bad things. How long would it take for those painful memories to die back?" (Any Way The Wind Blows pg 86)

Simon is genuinely one of the saddest chosen ones I've ever read about, and I feel like its ignored by the fandom a lot. Like the book series is always portrayed as funny and light hearted and it is sometimes but at the root it's sad and heart wrenching. However, it's also really creative and has a tone of parallels and connections and like the whole concept of the chosen one fulfilling his purpose and no longer being needed anymore isn't used often. A lot of the times the Chosen one's issues aren't even addressed at ALL its just "Oh he went through a lot as a child but the bad guy is dead now and he got the girl (or guy) so it's fine, he's happy"

Simon was used by everyone his whole life. The Mage, the rest if the world of mages, even Penny and Agatha a bit too, (which Penny realizes and admits in AWTWB). Simon was left as a child at an orphanage where we really don't know much about his life, because he doesn't know much either. In Wayward Son, Simon talks to his therapist about not remembering a lot before he was 11 and she says the brain blocks out things that have traumatized or hurt us in the past. When Simon is 11 and comes to Watford, he speaks so little the teachers have to give him private lessons, and when that doesn't work he gets a speech therapist. A few other details a are given as well such as how Simon jumped from orphanages and Foster homes. All these allow us to infer that he didn't have a good childhood, and stuff probably happened to him.

The Mage becomes Simon's only father figure, and even then Simon says he never felt like a father. The Mage treated Simon like a weapon, and even lied to him about being his father. The Mage could have made things much easier for himself by raising Simon, but he chose to just leave him till he was 11 because he didn't feel like raising his own kid. "Maybe it's part of what the Mage did to me. He said he got me wrong, that I was a cracked vessel. I can't hold on to anything good." (AWTWB pg 65) the Mage only payed attention to Simon when it benefited him. Simon was an object to him, and if you remember in Carry On, it was obvious to literally everyone but Simon, who didn't want to believe he was being manipulated. It turned him into a killing machine.

Often times I feel as if the fandom portrays Simon as some talkative goofball, but that's completely ignoring his character. Simon says in Carry On that he doesn't think because in the end he just does what people tell him too. But that's not true. He does think, all the time, he just pushes away the stuff he doesn't want to think about, thinking about other things to muffle out these unwanted thoughts. Baz also says in Carry On that most conversations with Simon are just Simon shrugging. We feel as though Simon talks a lot because when it's his POV he's always rambling, but this is because Simon has a strong inner monolouge.

Simon had no adult figures in his life to lean on. Every character had someone, despite their maybe complex relationships. Baz has Fiona, and the two are close despite the tension and arguing. Penny has her mom and dad, despite their differences, they all love each other a ton. And Agatha has her parents, who do care about her. Simon never has a firm foundation. Not the Mage, Penny's mom barley likes him, Agatha's family only treats him well because he's the chosen one and dating Agatha, and Baz's family straight up despises him. Everyone else also has friends to lean on too, once you get later into the series. Agatha has a Ginger and even Penny, Penny has Baz and Shepard, Baz has Dev and Niall whom he chooses to sort of ghost, but also Penny. And they all have Simon. But I couldn't help but notice that whenever Simon tried to communicate, he was shut down.

Simon is bad at communicating. They all address this multiple times. But it's the fact that his friends don't even have faith that he'll survive. Multiple times from all POVS it talks about how everyone expected Simon to die, and they're all talking about how they would feel and how it affects them knowing that, but no one ever asked Simon. And Simon is aware of this too, but he just once again ignores it. No one wants a hero who's scared to die for his cause. Simon is shit at communication, but he has his own ways of showing that at least something IS wrong, that Penny and Baz have learned how to read, yet ignore when it's not convenient. Baz and Penny take Simon on a trip out to America, but it wasn't about Simon. Penny had ulterior motives, to see Micah and Agatha. Then the whole situation happened there, and though obviously Baz had nothing going on with Lamb, it clearly made Simon insecure and upset. But Baz just gets annoyed at him for it instead of trying to figure out the root of the issue.

A scene that always irked me in WS is the one where Simon comes back with his hair cut, after months of neglecting it because of his depression. And Baz says nothing, because he's too busy feeling sorry for himself. This may have seemed like a small thing but Simon literally couldn't leave the couch, for almost a year. His self hatred and issues were so bad he couldn't get up. So he finally makes this step, cutting his hair, trying to get better...and Baz basically ignores it.

Another thing is the end if WS when they're on the beach. Simon is trying to say how he feels, in his own way. That he isn't good enough for Baz, Baz should find someone else. And Baz just shuts him down, like he always does. Like he always does when Simon tries to communicate his feelings about being the chosen one, and what happened with the Mage. Then they get back to England, and Baz just acts like nothing happened. Simon shouldn't have ignored all his texts, and shouldn't have moved out leaving just a note, but he doesn't know how to communicate. No one taught him how to do this, all he knows is he needs to figure his shit out and no one currently in that situation, was really helping him.

I see a lot of people hating on AWTWB because Simon and Baz break up, because their relationship is admittedly toxic, and then get together the next day. But I think it makes perfect sense. They both love each other so so much, and they have an unhealthy attachment. Often with toxic relationships, especially when we love each other and want them to work out, we keep coming back in hopes of fixing things. Both boys have severe abandonment issues, and they don't want to loose each other.

I also see people hating on WS and AWTWB because Baz and Simon aren't all happy. Like legit, that is why I see those books getting the most hate. But it makes sense. People's pasts have an effect on them and how they behave. Simon killed the only father figure really he'd ever had. And he still doesn't understand the extent of abuse said man put him through. Simon doesn't know how to put himself first. Like when they're fighting the vampire's in WS, and simon is on the brink of death, he STILL stands up because that's what people have expected him to do all his life. Baz wants everything to be okay and happy and ignore their issues, because that's what they've done his whole life in his family, ignoring problems like him being a vampire. And what Simon desperately needs is to approach his, but he doesn't know how deep his issues run, except that he's a broken, fucked up, mess. He has ptsd, depression, and anxiety, and doesn't know how to help himself.

Overall, Simon's character holds a complexity that often times I see ignored. The story is romantic, and cute. I love Snowbaz as much as the next person. But you can't fully appreciate the story until you actually understand the depth of the characters, especially starting with Simon Snow.

Thank you, have a nice day <3

[numinousmysteries]

@poangsecretsanta

Vrooom, vrooom, let's basketball! For the delightful @xf-cases-solved aka diz who loves Milagro:

Agent Scully is already in love .

The words taunt him as she digs her nails into his back. She's crying hot tears onto the shoulder of his sweater and clinging to him like a life raft in a storm. He tries to focus on the thumping of her heart against his chest, the frantic breaths she gasps into his ear—signs that she’s alive, that he hasn’t lost her—but he can’t get Padgett’s words out of his mind. 

Padgett's a liar and a murderer, he tells himself. The guy would say anything to get a rise out of him. 

But he loves her. He's known for years although he doesn't know how to admit that to her, or even to herself. The possibility that she could feel the same way is too overwhelming to even consider. And the potential consequences too enormous. 

The paramedics arrive and give her a preliminary exam on his living room couch. Despite the volume of blood on her clothing, there doesn't seem to be an entry or exit wound and her vitals are normal. They offer a ride to the hospital just to be safe, but she declines.

"Alright," one of them says, slightly baffled. "Well, don't hesitate to call us again or come into the ER if your condition changes."

“Yes,” she says, her voice firm, the Dr. Dana Scully tone she uses for the rest of the world. For everyone except him. 

He shows them to the door. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks her once they're alone.

"Yeah, I think so," she says softly.

"Why don't I get you a change of clothes? Or, do you want to take a shower?"

"I-I'm not sure," she says and he realizes she's shaking.

"Oh Scully, come here," he says, taking a seat next to her on the couch and opening his arms to her.

Her lower lip trembles as she closes her eyes and rests her head on his chest. He wraps his arms around her and rubs soothing circles on her back. Her blood stains his sweater, marking him. 

"It's okay," he says. He leans down to kiss the crown of her head. It's warm and damp with sweat. She smells like fear. 

He hears her sniffling and trying to catch her breath. After a few moments of sobbing, her breathing slows down and becomes more measured. He feels her pulling back and he releases her from his embrace. 

"I'm sorry," she says. "I should go."

"Hey, wait, Scully," he says, grabbing her onto her wrist to keep her from rising from the couch. "You don't have to go just yet. I don't know if you should be driving like this."

"I'm fine," she says, although her warbling voice betrays her vulnerability.

"If you think I care about anything he wrote in that book—"

"Oh, Mulder, stop," she protests, but he continues.

"He didn’t know you at all. It was just the fantasies of a mad, lonely man."

"That's the thing," she sighs. "I think he did know me. Some of that was eerily accurate. It was almost like he was profiling me. I felt so exposed."

"But not all of it, obviously," he says.

"You mean, that I’m not in love?” 

He pauses, frozen in his tracks. He meant the part about her sleeping with Padgett. He wasn't expecting they'd actually discuss that part. 

"Scully, I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about it."

She sucks in her top lip and bows her head, tears still wet on her face.

"What would that mean?" She asks. "I mean, to you? What would it mean to you if I were in love?"

He's confused, tiptoeing carefully around her question. "Well, I'd buy the lucky guy a beer to congratulate him. Let him know he's in for a lifetime of being second-guessed. But also that I'm damn jealous of him for getting to spend it with you."

A soft laugh catches in her throat and turns into a cough. "Mulder," she starts, looking down at her hands in her lap. "You know there's no one else...in my life."

"No one else besides..?"

She sighs again, this time more in frustration, and looks up at him with wet, blue eyes. "You're really going to make me say it?"

"I don't want to assume anything. But if you were to say you were in love with me, I'd assure you that there's nothing in the world that would make me happier. And that the feeling is more than mutual." 

She stares at him in stunned silence and he immediately wants to take his words back. Not because they aren’t true, but because he isn’t sure he’s ready to face their implications. 

“Shit, Scully, I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have said that. You’re in shock.”

“No,” she says quietly but resolutely, bringing a small palm to the center of his chest. Her touch feels firm. “I feel the same way. I have for a long time.”

“I’m flattered, truly,” he stammers. “But it doesn’t have to change anything between us. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it weren’t for Padgett and I don’t think we should give him that much power.”

He expects her to withdraw her hand but she doesn’t. With each fervent beat of his heart he feels the gentle but assured pressure of her touch. Not for the first time, he feels as if his heart will stop beating if she pulls away. 

“Can we really go back, though?” She asks, her eyes pleading. “To the way we were before?

He thinks, No, please, anything but that. He says, “Of course we can. We’ve made it through far worse.” 

“Maybe I don’t want to go back,” she says quickly, just barely above a whisper and he freezes. 

“Well, then.” He doesn’t recognize his own voice. It sounds strangled in his throat and he’s terrified of saying the wrong thing. Or the right thing. “Then maybe we don’t have to. What's stopping us?"

"I'm scared," she admits, with a furrow of the soft skin in between her eyebrows.

"I am, too," he says softly, stroking her back with one broad palm, feeling muscles easing underneath his hand.

She stares at him in puzzled amazement and he fears he's gone too far. But he sees her lips starting to part and they simultaneously lean in to meet in an impossibly soft, delicate kiss. It's sweet and sad and endearing. They're both scared to push the envelope so they barely move as their lips touch, as if just getting used to the sensation of touching in this way. It feels ancient and new at the same time. Like coming home while also jettisoning out of the earth’s orbit. 

She sucks in a sharp breath of air and pulls away.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"No, no," she says quickly. "Please don't apologize. I want this so badly, too, trust me. I just...I don't know what it will look like. How it will change things between us."

"I don't know either," he admits. "But I think it's worth a try."

He has all the same questions she has. Do they keep this a secret? Can they ever be seen in public as more than just coworkers? Can they sleep over each other's apartments? They've been followed and trailed and bugged before so they know any change in their normal activities would quickly get noticed by their enemies. Although, in light of recent events, it seems that the group of men who've been conspiring against them might be much smaller in numbers now.

"I don't know what this will look like," he reiterates. "But I don't think I could live without you."

She nods solemnly. "What if they use this as an opportunity to tear us apart?"

"Who? The bureau?" he asks. "I'd quit. I don't care. You're more important than all of this."

She pauses thoughtfully as his proclamation washes over her. He knows what he's saying and he means it. Six years ago he told her nothing else mattered beyond finding his sister. At the time it was true. But six years later, his priorities have shifted. He's been lied to and fucked over too many times to genuinely believe that the truth about his sister is knowable. And if it is, he'll only find it with Scully at his side.

He told her once that she made him a whole person and it's truer now more than ever. Losing her would be worse than losing a part of himself. 

"I want to try then," she says, embarking on this shift in their relationship with the same seriousness she applies to everything she does. Scully does not leap without looking. He felt hurt in the past when she had her one-night stand with Ed Jerse, confused how she could do something so rash and frankly, stupid, but he realized she was only able to act so quickly because it meant so little to her. When the stakes are high, she takes her time.

"Me too," he says.

She gives a little laugh out of overwhelm. "We're talking a lot about this for people who have just barely kissed."

He smiles, feeling love and warmth emanating off her. "Well, I plan to change that as soon as possible. Why don't we get you in the shower to clean off and take it from there? Only if you're, um, comfortable of course." He wants this so badly but he also doesn't know if he wants their first time to be marred by the brutality of this attack. 

"I think I'll be very comfortable with that," she says. "Will you join me in the shower?"

"Pull my leg.” 

She rolls her eyes at him and he remembers, It’s Scully . No matter how their relationship changes, they’ll still bicker and disagree and she’ll still give him that look. 

He stands up and offers her his hand. She takes it and he leads her to the bathroom. The water takes a moment to warm up so he twists the knob first before addressing their clothing. She's already discarded her jacket on the sofa when the paramedics were examining her, so he starts with slowly unbuttoning her bloodied blouse. He moves so slowly, wanting to memorize this moment. He wishes there wasn't any blood.

After each button, he looks up at her, silently asking for permission to keep going. Her pupils are big and glassy but she nods each time they make eye contact so he continues. Her skin is soft and unbroken underneath her shirt but still marked red with blood. Her skin goose-pimples from the cold so he pulls her into his chest before sliding the shirt off her shoulders. 

"I love you," he whispers into her hair. "You know that, right? I've loved you for so long."

She leans against his body and sniffles. 

"I know," she says, and he kisses the part in her scalp, the white skin where her red hair originates. "I love you, too.” 

He returns to undressing her, moving more quickly now as he's eager to get her into the warm shower. Once she's naked in front of him, he pauses for just a moment to admire her before quickly pulling off his sweater and t-shirt and stepping out of his jeans. Her intellect and integrity loom so large in his mind that he forgets how physically small she actually is. He can span her waist with two hands. He’s terrified of what a man with less noble intentions could do. 

They take the final step into the shower together. She gasps when the hot water hits her skin and he feels a jolt of panic before seeing her visually relax in front of him. She closes her eyes and tilts back her head. On the shower floor beneath them, the tide runs scarlet.

The water is hot but she's still shivering so he pulls her in, wrapping his arms around her, pushing his torso into hers. 

He imagines Padgett touching her like this, his leering gaze lingering on her skin as he skimmed his hands over her breasts, her waist, her hips. He grips her more forcefully imagining how much this stranger wanted to do this to her, but never will. Mine , he thinks to himself as he goes in for another deep kiss, his hands on her neck feeling her stubborn, insistent pulse. She perseveres.

"I want–" she says into his chest. She doesn't finish her sentence but he knows what she wants. He wants it, too.

He takes a step back, still with his arms around her but at a distance so they can meet each other's eyes.

"There's no going back after this," he says. "You know that, right?"

Even amid the running water he can see tears forming in her eyes.

"No going back," she promises. Her voice is firm, strong. It’s the voice he’s come to trust above all others.

He's kissing her again, this time without hesitation, searching furiously within her mouth with his tongue as his hands explore her body. He's hard, now, aching for her and he doesn't shy away when he feels her soft belly press against his erection.

The water is running clear now, all the blood rinsed off her skin. He reaches for the faucet handle, seeking approval in her eyes. She nods and he turns the water off. Without stepping out of the shower, he reaches for the nearest towel, wrapping it around her. She's shivering so he brushes his hands vigorously against the cloth, hoping to warm her up. He's still wet, naked in front of her but he doesn't care. There's only one towel on the rack. Why would there be another? He always thought he'd die alone here. It's been years since he knew she was it for him. Either she'd come around or she wouldn't and he'd have to be content with their friendship. But now she's here. Naked in his shower wrapped in his only towel.

"Just a second," he says. He pads out of the shower, leaving a trail of wet footprints through to his bedroom where he finds an old threadbare towel in the closet. It smells vaguely mildewy but he doesn't care. He just needs to get himself sufficiently dry. He towels himself off then tosses it in the corner of the bathroom and returns to her.

"Cold?" He asks.

“A little, yeah.” 

He  embraces her once again, the towel she's clutching under her chin the only thing between them.

"Come get warm."

He guides her to his bed, pulling the sheet and coverlet over her, lifting her wet hair up on the pillow she lies on so it spreads out around her like a halo.

"You," she says.

He knows what she means. He slips under the covers to hold her against him. He's kissing her neck and whispering I love you, I love you, I love you into her collarbones when she stops shaking.

She snakes a hand between them and she feels her small, thin hand wrap around his cock. He gasps, involuntarily, the novelty of a touch that isn't his own for the first time in years is enough to set him off. The knowledge that it's Scully's hand is enough to make him cry.

"We don't have to...tonight," he says.

"I want to," she says.

"Well then I'm not going to argue with you," he says, smiling. She grins back at him and he feels the weight of the universe lifting off him. 

“That’s a first.” She grins. It’s a challenge and an invitation.  

He pushes himself up so he's on top of her, kissing her hard as she holds his rigid cock in her hand. Then, he starts working his way down her body, giving a little sigh when he's low enough that she has to release him. He wants this to last forever. He doesn't know if they'll have another chance. If she'll wake up in the morning and realize she was acting on fear and adrenaline and tell him this can never happen again. It's entirely possible, so he wants to savor every moment in case this is their only time. He wants to see her body respond in pleasure, instead of fear or pain.

She's already moaning by the time he makes his way to her navel. He tongues the concavity, then turns his head to face her gunshot wound. It's only a few months old, still dark and angry against her pale skin. He kisses that, too. 

Lower still, he gently parts her legs with his palms, pausing to glance up and lock eyes with her. He’s looking for a nod, a sign she wants him to keep going. She keeps her gaze steady on him, though, then opens up her legs further and wraps her calves around his back. 

He’s seen her naked before, but never like this. Never so open, so vulnerable and welcoming, and he knows how significant this is for her. For both of them. He presses a kiss on her mons, the soft hair still damp from the shower. He smells his own soap but underneath that, her . She tenses her thighs around him and lets out a little frustrated gasp that makes him smile to himself. 

He can’t deprive her what she wants. He gives her leg a squeeze, then licks her slowly, running his tongue from her opening up to the hood of her clit. That last part makes her gasp again and he focuses solely on her clit next, pursing his lips to suck while teasing her with his tongue. Just like he’s learned nearly everything there is to know about her over the years—when she’s truly angry at him or just needs a lame joke to break the tension; the way she licks her lip when she’s pondering a mystery—he takes the time to learn what she likes. She isn’t loud, but he seems to be expertly interpreting each of her little sounds as her body responds around him and she grinds her hips up to meet him. 

“Mulder—” she calls out and squeezes his shoulder.

He stops suddenly, panicking that he's done something wrong. She reads him easily, though, and gives him a reassuring smile. “Get up here,” she whispers.

He kisses his way back up her body until they’re face to face.

She takes the lead now, pulling his head down to meet hers and kissing him hungrily. He’s achingly hard against her and terrified he isn’t going to last long enough to make this memorable. 

“Can I?” He whispers into her, grinding against her like a teenager.

She answers by reaching down and guiding him inside her. She’s wet but so, so tight and he looks to her to make sure she isn’t in pain as he lowers himself down into her inch by inch. He’s trying to move slowly, fighting against every instinct in his body to plunge fully inside her. She takes him out of his misery by sliding her hands around to palm his ass and bring him closer to her. 

“You feel incredible,” he whispers into her ear.

He wants to remember every sensation—the warmth of her breath on his neck, the smell of her sweat, the grip of her inner walls around his dick. 

They start moving in unison, their bodies finding a rhythm that mirrors the intellectual volley they’ve established over the years. Burying his face in the curve of her shoulder, he hears her moaning into his ear. Thankfully, it seems like she’s close because he doesn’t think he can last much longer. 

“Oh, Mulder,” she purrs as her orgasm ripples through her body. His name on her lips is enough to make him surrender, thrusting quicker and harder until he comes hard inside her. The scope of his universe is suddenly reduced to their bodies, tangled and intertwined on his bed. 

Coming down from his high, he rolls off of her. Without speaking, they turn to face each other. Burgeoning tears blur his vision. He blinks to see her more clearly and she wipes them off his cheekbones with her thumbs. 

“That was…” He pauses, struggling to find the words adequate to describe the immensity of his emotions.

“Perfect,” she finishes for him. 

Their lips meet and this time the kiss is languid and indulgent. Worn out from physical exertion and emotional exhaustion, they take their time. His fear that she’d immediately regret what they did and they’d have to go back to being partners evaporates. It’s not an ending. They’re evolving into something new. Just as they’ve gone from coworkers to friends, the road to this next level of their relationship, he knows, won’t always be smooth but will be more than worth the journey.

[gingersnap-17]

Newfound Hope (Suguru Geto x Blind Fem Reader)

Synopsis: Suguru had been at crossroads with his beliefs since Riko and Haibara's death. But after he bumped into a blind young woman, his outlook towards the world took a turn for the best.

Word Count: 1419

Suguru Geto had always been a man of conviction, one who lived his life by the principles he believed in. After the tragic death of Riko, and Haibara, he found himself at a crossroads. The loss of his dear friends had left him questioning his path and his purpose. The world of Jujutsu Sorcerers was a harsh one, with a clear divide between sorcerers and non-sorcerers. Suguru had always been one of those sorcerers who believed in protecting the non-sorcerers, seeing them as innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire of the sorcerer's world. 

But the loss of two dear friends made him question the righteousness of his beliefs. He was torn between continuing to protect non-sorcerers or succumbing to the growing realization that many non-sorcerers were not as innocent as he had once thought. The cruelty and indifference of some non-sorcerers had started to weigh heavily on his conscience. 

One fateful day, as Suguru walked through the crowded streets of Tokyo, deep in thought, he accidentally bumped into someone. A voice filled with warmth and understanding greeted him. "I'm sorry. My fault entirely." Suguru looked down to see a blind young woman with a white cane, her face displaying no resentment or anger. 

Suguru, surprised by her forgiving nature, replied, "No, the fault was mine. I should have been more careful. Are you okay?" The young woman nodded, offering him a soft smile as her gaze was slightly downward. This had become a habit of hers since she became blind a few years ago. "I'm fine. Accidents happen. It's the way of the world." Suguru was struck by the resilience and kindness of this blind woman. 

In that brief exchange, he felt a glimmer of hope that not all non-sorcerers were as cruel or indifferent as he had feared. Her words resonated with him, and he found himself wanting to learn more about her. With a friendly smile, Suguru asked, "May I walk with you for a while? I'd like to know your name." The young woman tilted her head upwards slightly and gave a small, thoughtful nod. "I'm Y/N." she said, her tone filled with genuine warmth. 

Suguru's heart skipped a beat as he heard her name. It was a beautiful name that seemed to match the warmth he felt in her presence. "Y/N," he repeated, savoring the sound of it. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Suguru Geto." 

As they continued walking together, Suguru couldn't help but be drawn to Y/N's presence. Her blindness didn't seem to hinder her in the slightest. In fact, her other senses appeared to be heightened, and she moved gracefully and confidently through the bustling streets of Tokyo. They spoke about a variety of topics, from their favorite books to their experiences in the city. Suguru was struck by Y/N's wisdom and insight. She had a way of looking at the world that was different from anyone he had ever met. She saw beauty in the ordinary, appreciated the kindness in strangers, and spoke of hope and resilience in a way that resonated with him deeply.

 Suguru found himself sharing his inner turmoil with her, discussing the doubts and questions that had been haunting him since Riko's death. Y/N listened attentively, her gentle presence putting him at ease. "It's natural to question your beliefs when faced with such loss and pain." she said. "But remember, there is goodness and darkness in all people, regardless of whether they're sorcerers or not… whatever that means.” She laughs a little. “It's our choices that define us. You have the power to make a difference by staying true to your convictions." Her words touched Suguru's heart. He had been wrestling with his inner demons, but Y/N's perspective made him see the world in a new light.

 He realized that he didn't need to give up on protecting non-sorcerers, but he did need to approach it with an open heart and a willingness to see the goodness in all people. Suguru felt a sense of clarity he hadn't experienced in a long time. Y/N's presence had become a beacon of hope in his life, and he knew he couldn't let it slip away.

 He wanted to spend more time with her, not just for the insight she provided but because he genuinely enjoyed her company. "Y/N, I'd love to see you again," Suguru said, his voice filled with sincerity. "Would you be willing to meet me for coffee or a meal sometime?" Y/N smiled, her eyes filled with a kind of warmth that transcended her blindness. "I'd like that, Suguru. It's not often I meet someone who sees beyond my disability. How about tomorrow?" Suguru agreed eagerly, and they exchanged contact information. 

The following day, they met at a cozy café in the heart of Tokyo. Over coffee and pastries, Suguru and Y/N continued to deepen their connection. With each passing moment, Suguru found himself more captivated by Y/N's strength and resilience. She shared her own challenges and how she had learned to navigate the world without sight, relying on her other senses and her unshakable belief in the goodness of people. 

As their friendship blossomed, Suguru couldn't help but admire Y/N's unwavering optimism and her ability to find beauty in even the simplest of things. He realized that he had been allowing the darkness of the Jujutsu Sorcerer world to overshadow the potential for kindness and goodness that existed within it. With Y/N by his side, Suguru began to view the world through a different lens. He saw that protecting non-sorcerers was not a lost cause but a noble mission that could make a difference. 

His encounters with Y/N opened his heart to the idea that kindness and compassion could bridge the gap between sorcerers and non-sorcerers. Their bond deepened over time, and it wasn't long before Suguru found himself falling in love with Y/N. He was drawn to her kindness, wisdom, and the strength she displayed in facing life's challenges. 

Y/N, too, couldn't deny the growing affection she felt for Suguru. He was a man of strong principles and conviction, and she admired his determination to protect the innocent. One evening, as they strolled through a serene park under the canopy of cherry blossom trees, Suguru couldn't contain his feelings any longer. He stopped, turning to face Y/N, and took her hands in his. "Y/N," he began, his voice filled with emotion, "I can't imagine my life without you in it. You've changed my perspective on the world and given me hope. I love you."

 Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she felt Suguru's warm hands holding hers. Her face lit up with a radiant smile as she replied, "Suguru, I love you too. You've shown me a world filled with kindness and compassion, and I can't imagine my life without you either." 

Their admission of love marked a turning point in their relationship. From that moment on, Suguru and Y/N were inseparable. Despite Suguru being a sorcerer, and Y/N a human, they were able to make things work between their two different worlds.

Suguru and Y/N's love continued to grow stronger with each passing day. They navigated the complexities of their respective worlds, finding solace in each other's arms. Suguru remained dedicated to his mission of protecting non-sorcerers, and Y/N was a constant source of inspiration and strength for him.

Y/N's blindness was no longer a barrier, as Suguru had learned to appreciate the world through her unique perspective. He often described to her the beauty of the cherry blossoms, the colors of the sunset, and the details of intricate sorcery techniques he encountered. It was moments like these where the two felt their bond for each other grow.

Their love became a symbol of hope and unity, a bridge between sorcerers and non-sorcerers. They dedicated themselves to working together to create a world where differences were celebrated rather than feared.

As the seasons changed and the cherry blossoms bloomed year after year, Suguru and Y/N's love endured. In the end, Suguru found not only the love he needed in his life but also a renewed sense of purpose and conviction in his mission to protect the innocent. With Y/N by his side, he continued to make a difference in the world, proving that love could conquer even the darkest of circumstances and that unity was stronger than division.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Birthday Event: My Beloved

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors. This is a rough translation.

I want to celebrate with all my heart that you, my beloved, were born into this world.

One afternoon.

Mitsuki: "Alright, next question."

Drake: "Hm, go ahead."

Mitsuki: "You don't have any likes or dislikes, so do you have any favorite foods in particular?"

After having a meal with him, I bombarded him with questions.

Drake: "Food, huh? I like both meat and fish, but if I had to pick a favorite..."

Drake: "Oh, pudding!"

(Hehe, he's so cute.)

Drake: "I mean the dessert kind of pudding. It's completely different from the pudding I used to eat before. It's really delicious."

Mitsuki: "Are there any other types of pudding besides dessert pudding?"

Drake: "Yup. Sailors often make a pudding by steaming leftovers with eggs during voyages."

Drake: "Once, I mixed a bunch of stuff a bit too much, and it ended up tasting really awful."

Drake: "That taste was so terrible that I'd rather starve to death than eat it."

Mitsuki: "Sounds intense. Alright, I'll note that your favorite dessert is pudding."

Mitsuki: "Then, what's your favorite drink?"

Drake: "Rum. Oh, and mojitos. You know, the one with lime and mint added to rum. I like that too."

He occasionally pondered and answered the questions while I nodded and wrote the answers in my notebook.

Writing this sort of made me feel like Sebastian.

Mitsuki: "Alright, next question. Is there something you want right now?"

Drake: "You."

Drake: “I want you, little fawn.”

He looked straight at me, and in an instant, my heart started pounding.

Mitsuki: “That’s not what I meant. Geez.”

(He always manages to make my heart race whenever he gets the chance.)

Drake: “Haha! It’s true. But man, you have a lot of questions today.”

Mitsuki: “This is an important survey. Okay, last question.”

Mitsuki: “When is your birthday?”

Drake: “----!”

That’s right. I was asking these questions in preparation for his birthday because I’d never heard of him celebrating it.

(That's why, from now on, I will prepare the things he likes and celebrate him.)

I was getting excited just thinking about making him happy. However, Drake furrowed his eyebrows and seemed to be struggling to answer.

Drake: “Birthday, huh? Um, September, I think.”

Mitsuki: “Drake, don’t tell me you don’t remember your own birthday?”

I asked, and he let out a troubled laugh.

Drake: “Well, that’s a possibility. I must have forgotten without realizing it.”

(I didn’t find his birthday in history books, so I had to ask him directly, but I can’t believe he forgot about it. How is that even possible?)

He rested his hand on his chin as I tilted my head in confusion, wondering if it was something easily forgotten.

Drake: “I think I celebrated it with my parents, but I moved from town to town and eventually got separated from them. I guess that’s when I forgot my birthday.”

Drake had a childhood where he had to flee from his mother’s relatives.

After that, he became an orphan and struggled to survive until a pirate ship picked him up. That was probably why he hadn’t had the luxury of counting the days or enjoy the changing seasons.

(In that case, it’s not surprising he forgot.)

Thinking about his life made my heart tighten.

Mitsuki: “But at least you remember it’s in September.”

Drake: “Nah. I decided it was in September from some point in the past.”

His answer made me blink again.

Mitsuki: “So, does that mean you chose your own birthday?”

Drake: “Well, something like that. I think, oh yeah, it’s September 7.”

(Does September 7 hold any special meaning?)

Mitsuki: “Why did you choose September 7 as your birthday?”

He looked a little distant and began to speak quietly after I asked about the reason for that specific date.

Drake: "That was when I was just recruited by the Queen."

------------Flashback------------

The year was 15××, September 7th.

Noble 1: "To our great ruler, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, we wholeheartedly celebrate this day of your birth!"

Noble 2: "Long live Her Majesty the Queen!"

Queen Elizabeth: "Rejoice and enjoy the night to your heart's content."

Nobles knelt before Queen Elizabeth, the most dignified woman in the room. On this day, a lavish party was being held at the palace in England to celebrate the Queen's birth.

In a corner of that grand hall, Drake and his crew members huddled together.

Drake: "Wow, royal parties are quite something."

Crewmate 1: "Hey, Captain. Doesn't it seem kinda weird for us pirates to be in a place like this?"

Crewmate 2: "Yeah, even though we've got fancy drinks and food right here, it just feels kinda scary to actually go for them."

Drake: "You're right."

---------Flashback Ends---------

Drake: "That year, we were invited to the birthday party as the Queen's pirates."

Drake: "But we were just a bunch of ruffians who lived on the sea."

Drake: "Being suddenly invited to the palace completely overwhelmed us."

Mitsuki: "True. Being in the same room with all those important people must have been nerve-wracking."

Drake: "Exactly."

Drake: "Well, that's how the Queen planted a sense of subservience in us, pirates who had enjoyed our freedom."

Drake: "I guess that was also the Queen's intention."

Hearing his words, I recalled the glimpse of his meeting with the Queen that I had seen through his past.

(The Queen seemed to have gotten hold of him under the pretext of a deal.)

(It wouldn't be unreasonable for him to have thought about it that way.)

Drake: "But becoming like a toothless shark would tarnish our reputation."

Drake: "If I, as the captain, were seen bowing to authority, my crew wouldn't find that respectable."

Drake: "And it wouldn't be fun to be constantly manipulated by the Queen."

Perhaps recalling his old feelings, a fleeting sharpness appeared in his eyes.

Drake: "So, I did something to maintain the reputation of the pirates."

Mitsuki: "What did you do?"

He took a sip from the tankard of ale he had ordered and smirked mischievously.

Drake: "I stole her birthday."

Part 2╎Sweet╎Premium End╎Epilogue

[letteredlettered]

hi!! i have kind of an odd question for you. so i want to be a writer, i love to write, however i quickly realized that i am just not witty at all. in reality i am not a very funny person and as someone who wants to write funny/clever characters this can be very challenging as i feel very not-funny. do you have any advice for this? i love your writing and your prose is always so clever and smart!!

Thanks! I'm glad you like my writing!

I'll say two things, which I can already tell will turn into 3:

it doesn't need to be funny. Even if the characters are funny, you can write the time when they are sad. Many people disagree with this assessment; they want fic to have a similar tone to canon, but I'd just keep in mind that fic gives you freedom to use whatever tone you're suited to.

Humor can be studied. I laugh a lot and make a lot of jokes, but in writing, as is perhaps evident, I come across as pretty intensely serious. The stuff I've written isn't the funniest, but I know that some fics and some lines I've written have made some people laugh. And I think I managed to get that because I looked at writing I think is funny--I looked at Jane Austen, and Charles Dickens; I looked at Bridget Jones; I looked at Joss Whedon's dialogue; I looked at how characters from Parks and Rec talked, and I took notes, and I made lists of why different things made me laugh, and I tried to replicate it. I will say, however, that what I find the worst thing in the world is to read something that is trying to be funny but is very belabored. I'm reading a book now where there is a character who is is supposed to be so sharp and incisive and funny and clever that he is literally named Wit, and every joke he makes is SO heavy handed; it's like the author sees the punchline and yet has to spell out every step to get there. So, one of the most important things about writing humor when you yourself are not funny is to either pick a form of humor that benefits from being belabored (lots of Dickens is like that, which is why I turn to it), OR:

Be aware of timing. So much of what make something feel sharp and clever and witty has to do with timing. I would focus less on punchlines and far more on practicing how to make timing work for you, particularly in dialogue. The length and existence of the dialogue tag adjusts the pacing, and you can do a lot by making the reader wait a beat or by sailing quickly through a number of amusing points.

[perfectprofessorloverapricot]

Finding purpose | Male OC (or male reader)

Chap 2

Summary: In a world that is dying and there is no way of saving it, the humanity takes mater into their own hands. They flee from their home planet with hope of conquering another in order to survive. Among them, a couple of brothers with no idea what they’re doing.

Pairings: Jake sully x Oc (friendship), Tsu’tey x Oc (friendship), Neytiri x Oc (friendship). [No current love interest]

Warnings: Mention of violence, mentions of death, use of drugs or alcohol, bad ways of coping mechanisms and obscene language.

Note: - This is not a request and it’s the translation of the original story in wattpad. - My native language it’s not English - The Oc’s name is Eli Thompson.

Prev part - Masterlist - Next part

"Is this thing on?" Eli asked as he pushed some buttons on the camera. He realized that he was recording until he turned to see the screen next to him. "Oh yes it is."

Behind him were Norm, Max and Jake in their respective seats doing whatever on their computers. Jake, like him, was practicing on his first record.

"My name is Eli Thompson. After being asleep for 5 years and 9 months I am finally on the planet Pandora." The soldier started making a face trying to think of what he has to say. "My purpose is to take my brother's place and lead an avatar body that looks like one of the natives here... or something." He scratched his head in some confusion. "Aaaaaand… I think that’s it." He turned to see Norm and Max who were behind him. "Hey Norm. Is that all I have to say?"

The scientist turned when he heard his name. "Yeah, we just have to make sure we document everything we see and feel." Said the man.

Max poked his head from behind Norm's shoulder. "It's what will keep you sane for the next 6 years." He joked.

Eli gave him a small smile, shaking his head and turned to the camera. "Okay. Eli out."

He reached out and turned off the camera.

End of stream.

"Grace Agustin is a legend," Norm said with great admiration evident in his tone of voice. So much so that Eli couldn't help but roll his eyes at him. He had already heard many things about that woman and not many of them were good. "She's the head of the avatar program. She wrote a the book. I` mean, she literally wrote the book on Pandoran botany"

"Well, that's 'cause she likes plants better than people." Max said, backing up Norm's idea about the female scientist.

Jake looked at Eli and raised his eyebrows in a gesture that said "Won't they really shut up?" bringing a smile to his friend.

"Here she is, Cinderella back from the ball." Upon hearing the aforementioned, both soldiers turned to face the front, finally arriving in the presence of a woman with an aura that gave off arrogance.

'This will be good' Eli thought as he saw the doctor.

"Grace, I'd like you to meet Norm Spellman, Eli Thompson, and Jake Sully."

With very little interest in the newly arrived, except for one of them, the doctor turned around, removed her glasses and pulled her cigarette from between her lips, showing that he had her undivided attention.

"Norm, I hear good things about you. How is your na'vi?" she asked in a surprisingly soft tone.

Norm, clearly nervous, raised a hand in the form of support to search for the words he wanted to say. He was in front of his idol. "May everyone's mother… smile upon our first meeting."

Eli brought a hand to his forehead to massage between his brows. The idea of having to use that new language that his brother tried to stick on his head like a mantra wasn't very appealing. He could understand most of the words, so it wasn't hard to form an idea of what they were saying, but speaking it on his own was out of the question.

And it was worse when he saw how pleased the doctor was at having received the words of greeting.

"Not bad. You speak a bit formal."

Norm let out a nervous giggle, but went on with his talk with more confidence. "I studied five years, but there is much to learn."

"Um, Grace? This is Eli Thompson and Jake Sully." The smile on the woman's face disappeared as Max tried to redirect her attention to the soldiers.

"Ma'am." Jake reached out his hand to shake the doctor's. He was trying to remain respectful despite the scientist's clear distaste for having soldiers within 1km of her work area. Eli, on the other hand, stood idly behind Jake.

"Yeah yeah, I know who you are and I don't need you. I need your brothers" the cold words of the woman put a metaphorical wall between the soldiers and the scientist, causing the calm attitude of the soldiers to instantly change to a more hostile one with just an exchange of glances. "You know?" She asked Max, answering before he could. "The PhD who trained for three years for this mission?"

"They're dead. I know it's a big inconvinience for everyone" Jake's tone of voice was evidence enough that they were now on thin ice.

The woman, for a tiny moment, thought about giving them a chance. But her way of giving them that opportunity was nothing short of dismissive. "How much lab training have you had?" She ask abruptly.

"I dissected a frog once." Jake answered with complete confidence.

Eli snorted at the memory of the chaos of that day in class. "I blew mine up." The soldier laughed.

Grace gasped in shock and outrage. Intend to give them a try. "You see?..." she spat at poor Max. "You see? I mean, they're just pissing on us without even the courtesy of calling it rain. I''ll talk 'm going to Selfrigd." The woman turned around with every intention of hitting someone, genuinely panicking poor Max.

"No, Grace. I don't think that's a good idea."

"NO, MAN, THIS IS SUCH BULLSHIT!" She complained without stopping to pay attention to them. "I'm gonna kick his corporate butt."

Max stopped in his attempts to talk sense into her. Instead, he turned to the soldiers to give them one last piece of news before continuing with the job. The tour was over. "Here tomorrow, 0800... Try and use big words."

Eli and Jake raised their eyebrows in surprise and somewhat amused to see the scientist leave with the last word from him. They were both sure they wouldn't listen to him. They didn't plan on getting along with the woman, but they would try to make an effort not to make enemies with people they will see for 6 years in a row.

[hungrydolphin91]

ok I had to go make my own post about Eugene Cassette Beasts, it's not fair for me to fill up everyone else's tags w how much I love this guy. I wanted to speculate a little about his backstory here cause it honestly fascinates me and I feel like I havent seen this happen much in other media, much less turn based monster collecting RPGs.

So Eugene is from a future world (seemingly the only party member who is except maybe Barkley but he's a dog so.) It sounds like he's from the turn of the century, maybe 2100 or so, and mentions in his rank 3 friendship that in his world, there was a massive reformation when society as a while realized they couldn't keep fucking each other over and destroying the planet, so everyone worked hard to abolish the kinds of structures that unilaterally hurt people (for instance, capitalism). Sounds like a utopia right?

Eugene only says good things about his world really, how much people value acts of goodness and kindness. But he says it all with such a sad tone, like something he's missing out on, because he thinks he is, he didn't fit in. He says that he wasn't great at being helpful all the time, which is why he wants to do better in New Wirral, a world removed from his own where he can be a better person than he was in his own world.

But the thing is, he IS a nice person. Maybe that's by design, everything he does in New Wirral is about him playing the hero, but it's also oh so clear that he brought his own expectations of goodness from his own timeline and they're just as much of a burden here. Even when hes succeeding, he won't cut himself slack, he says he needs to have a cause to rally behind, or what that archangel said to him would be proven true: he IS empty. Or at least, useless, which is probably the same thing to him.

What really grabs me about all of this though (besides the usual love of angst and guilt complexes and hero complexes and whatnot) is this future of moral reformation. Those are a pretty common historical phenomenon, often involving moral panics and an emphasis on presentation--- what matters is that you LOOK pure compared to others. And poor Eugene just felt like he couldn't keep up just because he has some small selfish impulses, or something in that nature I'd imagine--- I think he'd rather throw himself off a bridge than admit whatever the reason was that he didn't fit in in his own world.

It's easy to see his world being our future, in a way. I'd be delighted if terrible oppressive governments and economic systems were torn down in favor of ones that promote equality and universal well being, but currently moral purity is just as much of a trend as ever--- look at any discussion of book banning, not to mention transphobic legislature, fandom antis and so much more. So this hypothetical future is one where even though the 'right' thing has been done, there's still a subtle form of policing going on to enforce it. Maybe that is successful at keeping cruel practices from coming back. Or maybe it's just traumatizing people like Eugene who feel judged by their every action and pressured to be a saint every single moment of their lives.

One last thing I thought was interesting--- as part of his level 4 friendship rank, Eugene mentions how his parents' generation still seem scarred by the cruelties they endured before this reformation. But Eugene is too young to have lived through it himself so you know what that means?? Generational trauma babyyyyy. He's inherited guilt about a time he wasn't even alive for, along with a pressure to make sure it never ever happens again, so no unkindness is tolerated. It's no wonder this boy has so many issues.

So that's my late night rambles about this guy, probably like 50% of this is just me projecting but it's also fun to dissect what's happening here. Like I said before, it's unusual to see a unique concept like character like Eugene and his world in what appears to be a fun little indie game about turning into monsters with cassettes.

[halothenthehorns]

Chapter 23: WE WIN FABULOUS PRIZES

Will read out the new title, "We Win Fabulous Prizes," but there was something lacking in his usual chipper voice, though no one was really surprised. They were all just tired of this. Tired of the old feelings being ripped open, of second guessing and wondering what if's.

The absolute cynicism in Will's voice for the word prizes after all that was said and done was more than enough to set the tone for how all this was going to wind down.

So Alex piped up with, "so when you say fabulous, you mean, fabulous,"  and she did the gayest twirl with her wrist.

"I, kind of doubt it Alex," Percy laughed for her anyways.

The Three Fates themselves took Luke's body.

That felt like an honor, Magnus frowned as he hugged his jacket closer to himself. He hadn't sat around and thought about what he'd like included in his funeral, though he'd had ample opportunity in the past few days in particular. The same old bags who had once stopped a bus to get Percy's attention while they cut a string in his favorite color that could represent his dad.

It all felt very neat and laid out hearing of it in past tense, but he still had a bad feeling that it was still a bit of a show with these gods. Nobody could really know every twist and turn along the way.

I hadn't seen the old ladies in years, since I'd witnessed them snip a life thread at a roadside fruit stand when I was twelve. They'd scared me then, and they scared me now

Magnus couldn't help but sigh for the time when Percy's biggest problem was feeling like a singled out freak for normal human reasons while he was laughing with Hearth at this strange world. Now Hearth was off to lands unknown and he was still here, left wondering why those socks had been the size of a small boat apparently. Had they been metaphorical for Kronos? Were they planning to stuff Luke's body in that old blue yarn?

—three ghoulish grandmothers with bags of knitting needles and yarn.

One of them looked at me, and even though she didn't say anything, my life literally flashed before my eyes. Suddenly I was twenty. Then I was a middle-aged man. Then I turned old and withered. All the strength left my body, and I saw my own tombstone and an open grave, a coffin being lowered into the ground. All this happened in less than a second.

It is done, she said.

Percy wanted to believe that as he threaded his fingers through Annabeth's. The drain he felt, down to the bone, that had nothing to do with that curse or any plug he could use. That his life was already used up and toyed with enough, and it was all just done to have the rest to himself in peace.

The Fate held up the snippet of blue yarn—and I knew it was the same one I'd seen four years ago, the lifeline I'd watched them snip. I had thought it was my life. Now I realized it was Luke's. They'd been showing me the life that would have to be sacrificed to set things right.

Annabeth was looking restlessly from the books she'd missed to Percy and back without a word. It wasn't hard to catch up, but she was still aggravated she'd apparently missed something of such importance as Percy once meeting the fates. Which he never bothered to tell her about at some fruit stand?!

They gathered up Luke's body, now wrapped in a white-and-green shroud, and began carrying it out of the throne room.

Alex narrowed her eyes with interest for that color choice, wondering who had picked it. The Gods seemed to have some strange attachment to one of her favorite colors. They claimed their kid in that glow, the Oracle's smoke came out green. There was an elusive idea spinning in her mind she couldn't quite nail down what it all meant yet in comparison to the gold and blue also permeating the shades of this world.

"Wait," Hermes said.

The messenger god was dressed in his classic outfit of white Greek robes, sandals, and helmet. The wings of his helm fluttered as he walked. The snakes George and Martha curled around his caduceus, murmuring, Luke, poor Luke.

I thought about May Castellan, alone in her kitchen, baking cookies and making sandwiches for a son who would never come home.

That had been true for a long time before this, but Magnus still felt his hand close into a fist with no specific person in mind, just the feeling of miserable hate for that. If Luke had ever been free to choose another path in life, would he go back to her?

Hermes unwrapped Luke's face and kissed his forehead. He murmured some words in Ancient Greek—a final blessing.

"Farewell," he whispered. Then he nodded and allowed the Fates to carry away his son's body.

As they left, I thought about the Great Prophecy. The lines now made sense to me.

Jason rubbed the back of his head in agitation at his own thoughts. That his first instinct was to roll his eyes and grumble and wish those stupid things came with an instruction manual or at least a postscript for some kind of understanding before flailing through the mess.

But he also knew the truth. That if told from the beginning what choice Percy had to make, he wouldn't have done it. They all would have scoffed. He could tell from the look on Thalia's face not everybody still got it after all was said and done. Having twenty-twenty hindsight or foresight did not fix all of the problems.

The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap. The hero was Luke. The cursed blade was the knife he'd given Annabeth long ago—cursed because Luke had broken his promise and betrayed his friends. A single choice shall end his days. My choice, to give him the knife, and to believe, as Annabeth had, that he was still capable of setting things right. Olympus to preserve or raze. By sacrificing himself, he had saved Olympus. Rachel was right. In the end, I wasn't really the hero. Luke was.

A hero who still got a lot of kids killed to get to this point, Nico tried hard to keep the scowl off his face. A large part of him still felt like if he'd ever had a direct hand in helping Luke, Percy would have thrown it in his face at any given time he slipped up after.

By the tone of Will's voice, he could tell he didn't have an infinite bout of love for that way of phrasing, but neither of them called Percy out on it. This was from his eyes to theirs. If he wanted to go around the room and demand they do the same, it would be rude, but like, fair?

And I understood something else: When Luke had descended into the River Styx, he would've had to focus on something important that would hold him to his mortal life. Otherwise he would've dissolved. I had seen Annabeth, and I had a feeling he had too. He had pictured that scene Hestia showed me—of himself in the good old days with Thalia and Annabeth, when he promised they would be a family.

The smile on Annabeth's face was one that would have confused Percy once upon a time before he grinned back now. Family meant everything to him too, even the ones that put the strain there first.

Hurting Annabeth in battle had shocked him into remembering that promise. It had allowed his mortal conscience to take over again, and defeat Kronos. His weak spot—his Achilles heel—had saved us all.

A weakness saved the world. It was a nice sentiment. Thalia felt a little to personal about that. Having considered love a weakness for quite some time in her life before she met Luke, and then having an ongoing war with the concept ever since when she looked from him to Annabeth. To hear it and know it both ways, she really felt like a daughter of the ruling god for the first time.

Next to me, Annabeth's knees buckled. I caught her, but she cried out in pain, and I realized I'd grabbed her broken arm.

"If that doesn't describe your entire relationship up to this point, I don't know what does," Alex snorted. Percy tried to help. Percy broke things. But he meant well.

"She's not screaming in pain now," Percy said triumphantly as he waved their hands around, causing her pulse to thump as she chuckled.

"Congratulations, it only took you like, five years," Alex smirked.

"Oh gods," I said. "Annabeth, I'm sorry."

"It's all right," she said as she passed out in my arms.

Magnus did not want to laugh, but he really couldn't help himself. "Famous last words cuz?" She had the track record of forgiving everyone for everything and it was too sweet not to tease.

"I'm not striving for it, and yet," she giggled along it wouldn't surprise her.

"She needs help!" I yelled.

"I've got this." Apollo stepped forward. His fiery armor was so bright it was hard to look at, and his matching Ray-Bans and perfect smile made him look like a male model for battle gear.

Will groaned and tried hard not to roll his eyes, but man was he sick of Percy pointing out how hot his dad was. The first time was more than enough.

"God of medicine, at your service."

The fact that this was his immediate response though finally gave Will's voice that lilt they'd all been hearing him lack. He sounded so happy, so proud his dad didn't make a flirty remark. Just stepped in to help without hesitation.

He passed his hand over Annabeth's face and spoke an incantation. Immediately the bruises faded.

Her cuts and scars disappeared. Her arm straightened, and she sighed in her sleep.

Apollo grinned. "She'll be fine in a few minutes. Just enough time for me to compose a poem about our victory: 'Apollo and his friends save Olympus.' Good, eh?"

"Sounds like a great story," Magnus rolled his eyes in exhaustion at the idea.

"Can you imagine a whole book with him blabbing on about being hot and his poetry every other word," Percy looked at his own books in betrayal for the mere concept as if they'd provoked this.

"Pass," Annabeth agreed without interest as she waved Will on pleadingly.

He frowned, it might have been pretty interesting to finally get some real insights into a god...but maybe not his dad in particular. He was happier pretending half the shit he'd heard was exaggerated myth. Maybe Artemis would be a cooler fit to follow along for just a bit.

Then they'd all be smited for prying into her head.

So really there was no win here.

"Thanks, Apollo," I said. "I'll, um, let you handle the poetry."

"Top ten smartest things Percy's said in his entire life," Jason snorted.

"Pfft, top five," Percy agreed.

The next few hours were a blur. I remembered my promise to my mother. Zeus didn't even blink an eye when I told him my strange request. He snapped his fingers and informed me that the top of the Empire State Building was now lit up blue. Most mortals would just have to wonder what it meant, but my mom would know: I had survived, Olympus was saved.

"I have never heard anything so sweet in my life," Alex was looking at him like a strange creature from the most demon of dimensions.

Percy just gave a shrug and a smile, like yeah, surprised?

"But, like," Alex couldn't seem to stop herself. "Monsters, battle, mayhem, and you-" She stopped again with the strange look at him.

"Yeah," Percy agreed one last time. "Priorities."

"Huh," she grunted before turning away.

The gods set about repairing the throne room, which went surprisingly fast with twelve superpowerful beings at work. Grover and I cared for the wounded, and once the sky bridge re-formed, we greeted our friends who had survived.

Will's voice still hitched hard upon reading that. Once again, Percy hadn't gone home to any empty beds in his cabin. It had worked out relatively well for him. And Percy knew it. Will couldn't even make himself miffed at the guy because the soft smile he gave Annabeth and the fact that the first thing he did was flummox Alex's mind because he'd given the all clear signal to his mom left no one in doubt Percy knew every moment of his good fortune and what it meant.

The Cyclopes had saved Thalia from the fallen statue. She was on crutches, but otherwise she was okay.

"Because apparently Apollo's magic was a one and done thing on this glass flower," Thalia smacked Annabeth's once broken arm with a lot of force.

She barely winced as she rolled her eyes. "It's not my fault I had his attention for point five seconds and that's what he did with it. We're all lucky he didn't decide to give me some horrible gift like talking to animals instead."

"Hey, it's not that bad," but Percy's was a look of defeat as he knew that might have happened and would have driven her as crazy as Blackjack drove him at times.

Connor and Travis Stoll had made it through with only minor injuries. They promised me they hadn't even looted the city much.

"Empty promises," Jason rolled his eyes, entirely confident he was mock quoting Chiron and never even needing to hear him say it. Then his mind hard tracked back to realizing they didn't even know if he was alive and watching the book anxiously.

They told me my parents were fine, though they weren't allowed into Mount Olympus. Mrs. O'Leary had dug Chiron out of the rubble and rushed him off to camp. The Stolls looked kind of worried about the old centaur, but at least he was alive.

Jason sighed in relief, and saw even Magnus and Alex trying to pretend they hadn't.

Katie Gardner reported that she'd seen Rachel Elizabeth Dare run out of the Empire State Building at the end of the battle. Rachel had looked unharmed, but nobody knew where she'd gone, which also troubled me.

Percy looked wildly from the book to Annabeth before he realized that might be a bad idea and let his troubled eyes rest on Thalia before reminding himself that had rarely done him any good before settling back on the book. Will watched the entire progression with the need to get him a cone in case of whiplash.

Nico di Angelo came into Olympus to a hero's welcome, his father right behind him, despite the fact that Hades was only supposed to visit Olympus on winter solstice. The god of the dead looked stunned when his relatives clapped him on the back. I doubt he'd ever gotten such an enthusiastic welcome before.

Will's voice was such an entire puddle of mush as he read that Nico finally put his face in his hands in embarrassment that smothered his relief he hadn't been lucid dreaming that.

Clarisse marched in, still shivering from her time in the ice block, and Ares bellowed, "There's my girl!"

The god of war ruffled her hair and pounded her on the back, calling her the best warrior he'd ever seen. "That drakon-slaying? THAT'S what I'm talking about!"

She looked pretty overwhelmed. All she could do was nod and blink, like she was afraid he'd start hitting her, but eventually she began to smile.

That, was entirely not okay. Percy winced along with everyone else for having caught her doing that and imagining himself with a wire in his jaw even his curse wouldn't fix if Clarisse found out he'd witnessed that, the good and the bad.

Hera and Hephaestus passed me, and while Hephaestus was a little grumpy about my jumping on his throne, he thought I'd done "a pretty bang-up job, mostly."

"Which is honestly more compliments than anyone expected you to get," Magnus admitted with an awkward laugh. Alex was already nodding in pure agreement.

Hera sniffed in disdain. "I suppose I won't destroy you and that little girl now."

"Annabeth saved Olympus," I told her. "She convinced Luke to stop Kronos."

"Hmm," Hera whirled away in a huff, but I figured our lives would be safe, at least for a little while.

Percy and Annabeth exchanged a very 'walk over the grave' kind of feeling now though. Because they were at the bottom of the ocean. Hiding from gods. Yeah...what had that little hmmm really meant...

Dionysus's head was still wrapped in a bandage. He looked me up and down and said, "Well, Percy Jackson.

"It's no fun anymore if you expect him to say your real name when you did a good job," Thalia huffed.

"So, so sorry for your loss of entertainment," Percy rolled his eyes.

"You should be," she agreed with one of those smiles that made Percy realize he wasn't going to forget what a hunting horn sounded like any time soon.

I see Pollux made it through, so I suppose you aren't completely inept. It's all thanks to my training, I suppose."

"Training, how, not to be a jackass. Important life lessons," Magnus agreed.

"I like to think some of that comes naturally, but, you know, good for him," Alex chuckled.

"Urn, yes, sir," I said.

Mr. D nodded. "As thanks for my bravery, Zeus has cut my probation at that miserable camp in half. I now have only fifty years left instead of one hundred."

"He'll be gone in your lifetime. Supposedly," Jason balked before he reeled himself back in and gave Percy a contemplative look as if wondering what his midlife crisis should sit at.

"I'll, take what I can get there," Percy sighed. It was of some mild comfort at minimum, which even that he wasn't used to getting.

"Fifty years, huh?" I tried to imagine putting up with Dionysus until I was an old man, assuming I lived that long.

"Don't get so excited, Jackson," he said, and I realized he was saying my name correctly.

Percy braced himself for the snickers, and the 'on the second try?!' gasps, but then smiled as his friends gave tired smiles of surprise of their own. His friends just heard Percy have the longest day of his life, which was really saying something. The teasing was at a pretty bare minimum right now.

"I still plan on making your life miserable."

I couldn't help smiling. "Naturally."

"Miserable," Annabeth sadly let go of his hands, but in the name of using air quotes, so it was bearable. "How many times has he actually done that exactly?"

Percy scratched at his ear with an absent smile of agreement. Aside from being a general ponce when in his vicinity, it was agreeably rare.

"Just so we understand each other." He turned and began repairing his grapevine throne, which had been singed by fire.

Grover stayed at my side. From time to time he would break down in tears. "So many nature spirits dead, Percy. So many."

Magnus winced hard at that. He'd watched a kid swallow a key while chaining himself to a tree once and choking to death on it. He'd watched some girl get chased around and sprayed with pesticide because she'd been caught stealing from a garden. He'd seen a lot of messed up shit. Putting faces on those plants, realizing that the crazy lady who cooed to her hydrangea while watering them wasn't so nuts, still gave him a sickening worldview that bottomed out pretty easily and made him feel a little more comfortable after the ride was over. It was another reason to care, not a different one.

I put my arm around his shoulders and gave him a rag to blow his nose. "You did a great job, G-man. We will come back from this. We'll plant new trees. We'll clean up the parks. Your friends will be reincarnated into a better world."

He sniffled dejectedly. "I . . . I suppose. But it was hard enough to rally them before. I'm still an outcast.

"Isn't he one of the oldest Satyrs alive right now though?" Alex asked in surprise. "The other's all vanishing off the face of the earth to monsters unknown the moment they got their license too. I mean, age isn't everything, but it's not a terrible place to start rallying around for guidance when their last overlord just died."

"I, didn't think of telling him that," Percy agreed, only making Alex roll her eyes harder. The guys and gals and nonbinary pals Percy led into battle followed him instead of Chiron! And they were all his age if not older, the dork.

I could barely get anyone to listen to me about Pan. Now will they ever listen to me again? I led them into a slaughter."

Percy had been drawn up by that part. He'd felt a lot the same way and tried to help Grover move past it like he was dealing with.

"They will listen," I promised. "Because you care about them. You care about the Wild more than anyone."

He tried for a smile. "Thanks, Percy. I hope . . . I hope you know I'm really proud to be your friend."

Percy wished that he had some way to tell Grover that he felt the same. That his time at Nancy had pretty much been his rock bottom and yet the turning point in his life all because of his best friend. He'd made pathetically few in years past because of all the fights he caused, all his skipped lunches in the cafeteria, all his idiotic inabilities to keep up in class. Grover had stuck around through every manner of the laughing and trouble he'd been through.

I patted his arm. "Luke was right about one thing, G-man. You're the bravest satyr I ever met."

He blushed, but before he could say anything, conch horns blew. The army of Poseidon marched into the throne room.

"I can tell you what he was going to though," Annabeth promised.

"Yeah, I got that feeling too," Percy chuckled.

"Percy!" Tyson yelled. He charged toward me with his arms open. Fortunately he'd shrunk back to normal size, so his hug was like getting hit by a tractor, not the entire farm.

Percy laughed and stretched as he flopped around in his seat, over playing up the impact it had caused. He missed his little brother.

"You are not dead!" he said.

"Yeah!" I agreed. "Amazing, huh?"

He clapped his hands and laughed happily. "I am not dead either. Yay! We chained Typhon. It was fun!"

Behind him, fifty other armored Cyclopes laughed and nodded and gave each other high fives.

"Tyson led us," one rumbled. "He is brave!"

"Bravest of the Cyclopes!" another bellowed.

Tyson blushed. "Was nothing."

"I saw you!" I said. "You were incredible!"

I thought poor Grover would pass out. He's deathly afraid of Cyclopes. But he steeled his nerves and said, "Yes. Um . . . three cheers for Tyson!"

"YAAARRRRR!" the Cyclopes roared.

"Please don't eat me," Grover muttered, but I don't think anyone heard him.

"Yeah, that's not going away any time soon," Will said with a sad smile. Between Grover, Annabeth, and Thalia all having plenty of reason to draw weapons or run out of the room screaming at this though, and none of them doing it, he still smiled at the hint of peace in the world of everyone coming together for this triumphant moment.

The conch horns blasted again. The Cyclopes parted, and my father strode into the throne room in his battle armor, his trident glowing in his hands.

"So, when you said all the gods barged in before," Jason began in confusion.

"My dad saw I was alive and waved himself back out," Percy shrugged, he'd been a little lost watching Luke's body be carried away and the knitting ladies. "Guess he went to check on, I don't know, how much his palace was destroyed or whatever and grab the real heroes before coming back."

"Stop that," Annabeth lightly smacked his shoulder. "He just wanted to make an entrance."

It was a less sound answer Percy didn't automatically agree with, but he also didn't care enough to argue the point.

"Tyson!" he roared. "Well done, my son. And Percy—" His face turned stern. He wagged his finger at me, and for a second I was afraid he was going to zap me. "I even forgive you for sitting on my throne. You have saved Olympus!"

"And if, I hadn't?" Percy asked with only mild concern, all things considered.

"He would have resurrected you to kill you I'm sure," Thalia shrugged without much concern herself.

He held out his arms and gave me a hug. I realized, a little embarrassed, that I'd never actually hugged my dad before. He was warm—like a regular human—and he smelled of a salty beach and fresh sea air.

Percy had received a hug from his mom often enough that this new level just felt like that to him. A surprising development. But one he'd had enough that this was just, pleasantly new.

Will, was a bit gobsmacked. He didn't know anyone in camp who'd actually been hugged by their godly parent. They were lucky to have had a face to face conversation! He stuttered over the next few lines, making Percy blush harder than the god of the sea hugging him had done as his eyes darted around and he wished to dissipate in the water right about now.

When he pulled away, he smiled kindly at me. I felt so good, I'll admit I teared up a little. I guess until that moment I hadn't allowed myself to realize just how terrified I had been the last few days.

"Living in a state of hell makes you pretty numb to it," Magnus agreed.

"I would not like a repeat event, ever," Percy sighed, stretching in his seat again.

"Dad—"

"Shhh," he said. "No hero is above fear, Percy. And you have risen above every hero. Not even Hercules—"

"POSEIDON!" a voice roared.

"I'll give you three guesses who got pissy for dissing," Alex rolled her eyes.

"Nobody's been paying that little attention Alex," Nico scoffed.

Zeus had taken his throne. He glared across the room at my dad while all the other gods filed in and took their seats. Even Hades was present, sitting on a simple stone guest chair at the foot of the hearth.

"They couldn't let him conjure up his own chair?" Will looked so annoyed, which was just hysterical to imagine him telling this to the other gods. "Like was it that big a deal he have a thrown there he wanted to sit in for even a day?"

"I don't think Zeus will ever be in that good a mood," Nico said in appreciation all the same.

Nico sat cross-legged on the ground at his dad's feet.

"Well, Poseidon?" Zeus grumped. "Are you too proud to join us in council, my brother?"

I thought Poseidon was going to get mad, but he just looked at me and winked. "I would be honored, Lord Zeus."

"If any idiot ever questioned which god was your parent, I'm shoving this passage up their nose," Annabeth chuckled.

"I'm sure my dad would love that," Percy grinned.

I guess miracles do happen. Poseidon strode over to his fishing seat, and the Olympian Council convened.

While Zeus was talking—some long speech about the bravery of the gods, etc.—Annabeth walked in and stood next to me. She looked good for someone who'd recently passed out.

"Miss much?" she whispered.

"Nobody's planning to kill us, so far," I whispered back.

"First time today."

The kind of laughter that went around the room was one that should have worried them about being to loud again but they enjoyed this just a little to much to care about the consequences. It was true, it was sad, it was hilarious, and it should not be ignored.

I cracked up, but Grover nudged me because Hera was giving us a dirty look.

"She can suck the dirt out from under my nails," Alex sneered, holding up a finger for which one she could get started on.

"We're all going to die," Magnus sighed.

"As for my brothers," Zeus said, "we are thankful"—he cleared his throat like the words were hard to get out—"erm, thankful for the aid of Hades."

The lord of the dead nodded. He had a smug look on his face, but I figure he'd earned the right. He patted his son Nico on the shoulders, and Nico looked happier than I'd ever seen him.

"And, of course," Zeus continued, though he looked like his pants were smoldering, "we must . . . um . . . thank Poseidon."

"I'm sorry, brother," Poseidon said. "What was that?"

"We must thank Poseidon," Zeus growled. "Without whom . . . it would've been difficult—"

"Difficult?" Poseidon asked innocently.

"Impossible," Zeus said. "Impossible to defeat Typhon."

The gods murmured agreement and pounded their weapons in approval.

Watching that had really put a thorn in Thalia's side and made her feel all the more grateful she wouldn't be in the spotlight long. She hadn't been right for where Percy stood. She'd have made Zeus promise to say nice things about his brothers for all eternity or something if she'd been granted some unlimited wish.

"Which leaves us," Zeus said, "only the matter of thanking our young demigod heroes, who defended Olympus so well—even if there are a few dents in my throne."

"Can this guy not go one second without complaining about having to acknowledge someone else exists!" Jason couldn't help the outburst even as he instantly slapped a hand over his mouth in regret. It was just infuriating to hear 'his dad' acting like a child, forcing himself to praise the good his brothers did where he couldn't, complaining that he even had a throne to sit on!

"I doubt it," Percy agreed with a smile. Jason didn't lower his hand until he was sure all attention was back on the book, and even then he was clearly swallowing something else he wanted to say. Percy hoped he wasn't beating himself up to much for his outburst, they all had some mixed feelings at this point.

He called Thalia forward first, since she was his daughter, and promised her help in filling the Hunters' ranks.

"How?" Magnus couldn't help but narrow his eyes distrustfully. "Is that agreement they can't have kids still binding now that this is over?"

Thalia, Nico, and Percy choked on air and looked at Magnus in concern for his mind just going there..and they couldn't even argue the point it probably was his idea of helping.

Artemis smiled. "You have done well, my lieutenant. You have made me proud, and all those Hunters who perished in my service will never be forgotten. They will achieve Elysium, I am sure."

She glared pointedly at Hades.

He shrugged. "Probably."

Artemis glared at him some more.

"Okay," Hades grumbled. "I'll streamline their application process."

"I would love to see that," Jason said brightly. Percy was pretty sure he could wave a legal document under his nose like a treat and get him to sit right now. At least he wasn't still stewing on his outburst.

Thalia beamed with pride. "Thank you, my lady." She bowed to the gods, even Hades, and then limped over to stand by Artemis's side.

"Tyson, son of Poseidon!" Zeus called. Tyson looked nervous, but he went to stand in the middle of the Council, and Zeus grunted.

"Doesn't miss many meals, does he?" Zeus muttered.

Percy hoped Zeus saw him scowl. Saw his fist and instant anger. He'd been instantly transported back to Camp and everyone muttering similar shit all summer before Tyson had helped save all their lives. Zeus really was, the worst.

"Tyson, for your bravery in the war, and for leading the Cyclopes, you are appointed a general in the armies of Olympus. You shall henceforth lead your brethren into war whenever required by the gods. And you shall have a new . . . um . . . what kind of weapon would you like? A sword? An axe?"

"So his reward is being conscripted into future fights?" Magnus looked entirely insulted he was just 'granted' that without having been asked.

Percy responded with a sad smile. "Trust me, if you saw that smile on his face, he was proud. Dad holding him back for so long only to be told he'd get to do it all again. Yeah, he was good with this day."

"Stick!" Tyson said, showing his broken club.

"Very well," Zeus said. "We will grant you a new, er, stick. The best stick that may be found."

"Hooray!" Tyson cried, and all the Cyclopes cheered and pounded him on the back as he rejoined them.

"Grover Underwood of the satyrs!" Dionysus called.

Grover came forward nervously.

"Oh, stop chewing your shirt," Dionysus chided. "Honestly, I'm not going to blast you. For your bravery and sacrifice, blah, blah, blah, and since we have an unfortunate vacancy, the gods have seen fit to name you a member of the Council of Cloven Elders."

Grover collapsed on the spot.

"Oh, wonderful," Dionysus sighed, as several naiads came forward to help Grover. "Well, when he wakes up, someone tell him that he will no longer be an outcast, and that all satyrs, naiads, and other spirits of nature will henceforth treat him as a lord of the Wild, with all rights, privileges, and honors, blah, blah, blah. Now please, drag him off before he wakes up and starts groveling."

"FOOOOOD," Grover moaned, as the nature spirits carried him away.

"Yeah, all that tracks awesome, actually," Alex's little devil may care laugh had a sweet edge.

"So, between Pan and this, is he like a minor god officially?" Jason asked, his voice constricted like someone dreaming of meeting their celebrity crush.

"I'm not sure how we'd test that," Annabeth sighed, "and I'm kind of afraid with what he'd do if we did."

"Probably put more recycle-vegetarian food options on every menu or something, I'm not worried about it," Percy shrugged.

I figured he'd be okay. He would wake up as a lord of the Wild with a bunch of beautiful naiads taking care of him. Life could be worse.

"Being fed grapes, someone fanning him, oh that poor tortured soul we should have rescued," Thalia chuckled in agreement.

"I bet he would have started passing out on purpose just to spite us next time we talked to him," Percy grinned.

Athena called, "Annabeth Chase, my own daughter."

Annabeth squeezed my arm, then walked forward and knelt at her mother's feet.

Athena smiled. "You, my daughter, have exceeded all expectations. You have used your wits, your strength, and your courage to defend this city, and our seat of power. It has come to our attention that Olympus is . . . well, trashed.

"Gotta love Athena just a little for coming outright with that," Will laughed.

The Titan lord did much damage that will have to be repaired. We could rebuild it by magic, of course, and make it just as it was. But the gods feel that the city could be improved. We will take this as an opportunity. And you, my daughter, will design these improvements."

"Damn cuz," Magnus said before letting out a long whistle of surprise. "How big is that place again?"

"Let's just say I'm not even halfway done," she said, the smugness in her voice not even masked, the pride shining like her own light that her ideas were being built around her.

Magnus smiled as she kissed the back of Percy's hand and promised him he'd love such and such she did with a fountain and how she could improve on some sketches she'd discarded for Oceanus's palace and Percy just nodded without a clue what she was saying but so obviously taking in every word about tile patterns. At least her vision of the sirens had finally come true.

Annabeth looked up, stunned. "My . . . my lady?"

Athena smiled wryly. "You are an architect, are you not? You have studied the techniques of Daedalus himself. Who better to redesign Olympus and make it a monument that will last for another eon?"

"You mean . . . I can design whatever I want?"

"As your heart desires," the goddess said. "Make us a city for the ages."

"As long as you have plenty of statues of me," Apollo added.

Will face palmed and muttered something about apologizing for his dad being an idiot.

"He's the least worrisome," Annabeth assured. "Between my mom silently judging everything that gets completed and not telling me her thoughts, and Zeus sending me messages once a week asking when his next temple is going to be complete, Apollo wanting a specific number of statues all in different pozes is practically simple."

"And me," Aphrodite agreed.

"Hey, and me!" Ares said. "Big statues with huge wicked swords and—"

"All right!" Athena interrupted. "She gets the point. Rise, my daughter, official architect of Olympus."

Annabeth rose in a trance and walked back toward me.

"Way to go," I told her, grinning.

For once she was at a loss for words. "I'll . . . I'll have to start planning . . . Drafting paper, and, um, pencils—"

"Lots and lots of pencils, Grover might hunt you down in revenge if you don't plant more trees up there to compensate," Nico grinned.

"Yeah," Annabeth agreed in the kind of way that made them all chuckle that might have actually been a problem at one point.

"PERCY JACKSON!" Poseidon announced. My name echoed around the chamber.

All talking died down. The room was silent except for the crackle of the hearth fire. Everyone's eyes were on me—all the gods, the demigods, the Cyclopes, the spirits. I walked into the middle of the throne room. Hestia smiled at me reassuringly. She was in the form of a girl now, and she seemed happy and content to be sitting by her fire again. Her smile gave me courage to keep walking.

First I bowed to Zeus.

"How do you bow exactly," Alex eyed him critically. "I need to know if you just bend your waist a bit, do you throw one arm out and bend it behind your back as extravagantly as you can, curtsey-"

"All of the above," Magnus offered with a snicker.

"I just," Percy bowed his head for a moment and kind of hunched his shoulders before straightening up, "hey! I am not bowing to your ass Alex!"

"So close," she giggled before snapping her fingers in disappointment.

Then I knelt at my father's feet.

"Rise, my son," Poseidon said.

I stood uneasily.

"A great hero must be rewarded," Poseidon said. "Is there anyone here who would deny that my son is deserving?"

I waited for someone to pipe up. The gods never agreed on anything, and many of them still didn't like me, but not a single one protested.

"I guess it's a little to soon to be bragging about world war three, give it a few years," Thalia rolled her eyes.

"The Council agrees," Zeus said. "Percy Jackson, you will have one gift from the gods."

I hesitated. "Any gift?"

"What was on your mind?" Jason instantly demanded in excitement, before he realed himself back. "Urm, if you want to share."

"I actually kind of went mind blank," Percy admitted with no hesitation. "I'd, never sat around and thought, huh, what would I wish for from the gods." He only considered for a moment before adding, "I'd always wanted to gift my mom something, but you know, after her whole I can save myself thing, and the not so great results that I know damn well comes from a god's gift, I wouldn't put that on her, so, I was more surprised I was just given an unlimited ticket and went mind blank."

"Fair," Jason grinned. "Don't let anyone tell you your an impulsive twat Percy, not after that."

"You hear that Alex?" Percy smirked.

"No," she shrugged, picking at her ears, "I tuned out after you killed that math teacher, that was my highlight and all of this has just been a vivid hallucination."

"Sounds like a personal problem," Will chuckled before moving on.

Zeus nodded grimly. "I know what you will ask. The greatest gift of all. Yes, if you want it, it shall be yours. The gods have not bestowed this gift on a mortal hero in many centuries, but, Perseus Jackson—if you wish it—you shall be made a god. Immortal. Undying. You shall serve as your father's lieutenant for all time."

I stared at him, stunned. "Um . . . a god?"

Zeus rolled his eyes. "A dimwitted god, apparently. But yes. With the consensus of the entire Council, I can make you immortal. Then I will have to put up with you forever."

"Hmm," Ares mused. "That means I can smash him to a pulp as often as I want, and he'll just keep coming back for more. I like this idea."

"I approve as well," Athena said, though she was looking at Annabeth.

Annabeth couldn't help but crack up laughing hard at that. She hadn't even noticed, but it was hilarious to her that her mom apparently only agreed because she still didn't want her dating Percy. Oh well, guess not everyone got their wish that day.

I glanced back. Annabeth was trying not to meet my eyes. Her face was pale. I flashed back to two years ago, when I'd thought she was going to take the pledge to Artemis and become a Hunter. I'd been on the edge of a panic attack, thinking that I'd lose her. Now, she looked pretty much the same way.

I thought about the Three Fates, and the way I'd seen my life flash by. I could avoid all that. No aging, no death, no body in the grave. I could be a teenager forever, in top condition, powerful, and immortal, serving my father. I could have power and eternal life.

Who could refuse that?

Annabeth was still shaking with a bit of silent laughter from her mom's reaction and so glanced from the book to Percy in a jittery, odd way. She'd seen him pause. She knew what he'd said to Zeus. She'd always thought he'd been trying to come up with the words in his head. Now she was stunned to realize it sounded like he'd even been considering it for a moment. It stunned her to realize that she really didn't know every thought and idea he'd ever had in his head.

And she just grinned at him with excitement for what else they were going to find out growing up.

Then I looked at Annabeth again. I thought about my friends from camp: Charles Beckendorf, Michael Yew, Silena Beauregard, so many others who were now dead. I thought about Ethan Nakamura and Luke.

And I knew what to do.

"No," I said.

The Council was silent. The gods frowned at each other like they must have misheard.

"No?" Zeus said. "You are . . . turning down our generous gift?"

There was a dangerous edge to his voice, like a thunderstorm about to erupt.

"Pfft, which Percy can make on command too if he wants apparently, that's not that threatening," Nico rolled his eyes.

"You guys are going to be the reason I meet that grave," Percy sighed, knowing he couldn't even be mad. He pissed off Zeus well enough on his own, he could hardly do more than be at their side when his friends did it too.

"I'm honored and everything," I said. "Don't get me wrong. It's just . . . I've got a lot of life left to live. I'd hate to peak in my sophomore year."

"Darn, sorry to break it to you Perce," Thalia smirked.

Percy rolled his eyes at her, just like always. "I hope you run out of fart arrows!"

"I hope they forget cheese on your burger!"

Percy gasped, a truly wounded expression blossoming, letting Thalia know instantly she'd gone to far and offered a sheepish grin in apology. She knew he'd steal her cheese in retribution if such a future ever came to pass anyways.

Jason smiled at the interaction, but couldn't help privately wondering if Thalia wasn't actually masking a bit of disappointment there. She'd already lost Luke and Annabeth to time long ago. Maybe the smallest part of her had hoped for a moment Percy would accept the gift so she wouldn't be alone in her immortality with a friend who knew her before being Arteims's Lieutenant.

The gods were glaring at me, but Annabeth had her hands over her mouth. Her eyes were shining.

And that kind of made up for it.

"I accept kind of," she smiled.

"Well thank gods for that, I'm only kind of at everything," Percy nodded.

"Kind of saved the world," Nico began ticking off on his fingers, "kind of annoying, kind of obnoxious, yeah, all checks out."

"I'm going to kind of kill you," Percy sighed, "see if that's what gets you to heal as fast as I do in water."

"Nah try something at least vaguely simpler first," Alex offered oh so helpfully. "Like get him to hug a skeleton."

That at least made Percy trip over himself laughing, while only Magnus looked around at Alex in vague concern how often she went around killing people to know how much effort it might be to put into, to Will kissing Nico's cheek and muttering something about all of them being idiots.

"I do want a gift, though," I said. "Do you promise to grant my wish?"

Zeus thought about this. "If it is within our power."

"It is," I said. "And it's not even difficult. But I need your promise on the River Styx."

"What?" Dionysus cried. "You don't trust us?"

"Him? Him! I barely trust any of them not to kill us, and he's the one who pipped up on this," Percy looked around at them to make sure he hadn't been hitting the special grapes.

"Don't look at us, he likes you best," Annabeth snorted.

"Someone once told me," I said, looking at Hades, "you should always get a solemn oath."

Hades shrugged. "Guilty."

"Adoring over here he just owns up to that," Will cackled.

"Why deny good advice," Nico rolled his eyes as he and Percy exchanged grins.

"Very well!" Zeus growled. "In the name of the Council, we swear by the River Styx to grant your reasonable request as long as it is within our power."

The other gods muttered assent. Thunder boomed, shaking the throne room. The deal was made.

"From now on, I want you to properly recognize the children of the gods," I said. "All the children . . . of all the gods."

Jason felt a tick in his brain. Like something sliding into place he didn't know he was missing. Not something he'd ever said out loud or pursued from his past, just something he knew he'd wanted to hear.

It was probably disturbing how often he felt that more than an actual glimmer of memories, but he'd deal with that later.

The Olympians shifted uncomfortably.

"Percy," my father said, "what exactly do you mean?"

"Kronos couldn't have risen if it hadn't been for a lot of demigods who felt abandoned by their parents," I said. "They felt angry, resentful, and unloved, and they had a good reason."

Zeus's royal nostrils flared. "You dare accuse—"

"Accuse implies there's room for argument in that statement," Alex said with a vicious smile. This. This is why she'd decided she enjoyed Percy, idiot parts of him and all. She didn't know a lot of people, and she didn't trust the rest, but if she'd had to pick someone in that room to be making this wish, it would have been Percy. And it felt good to be right.

"No more undetermined children," I said. "I want you to promise to claim your children—all your demigod children—by the time they turn thirteen. They won't be left out in the world on their own at the mercy of monsters. I want them claimed and brought to camp so they can be trained right, and survive."

"Now, wait just a moment," Apollo said, but I was on a roll.

Will couldn't help but wince at his dad of all of them trying to interrupt this. He'd just lost a lot of siblings, and he wasn't even sure his dad knew entirly how many. His first thought was hoping his dad didn't want to put himself through this, didn't want to claim any more kids just to have them lost in the woods or go out on quests to not return and get attached enough to know their names.

But his dad was also pretty notorious for going the longest gaps in bothering to claim his kids. There had been a lot that came through who moved themselves into his cabin when they'd been there for weeks without the glowing arrow agreeing because it had just been, that obvious. Will had been one of them and nobody from Hermes or his brothers protested.

It would have hurt more if he'd been wrong, if Ares had just had some strange day and produced him as a kid and he'd had to move again, but that so rarely happened it was more of a running gag around camp than actual claimings as well.

Hearing the exact words Percy had used felt good. It was a cathartic balm down his throat his powers couldn't replicate.

"And the minor gods," I said. "Nemesis, Hecate, Morpheus, Janus, Hebe-—they all deserve a general amnesty and a place at Camp Half-Blood. Their children shouldn't be ignored. Calypso and the other peaceful Titan-kind should be pardoned too. And Hades—"

"Are you calling me a minor god?" Hades bellowed.

"No, my lord," I said quickly.

"Could have backtracked that a little better, but as said, he's on a ball," Alex rolled her eyes.

"On a roll," Percy happily corrected.

"On a log on a ball on a roll on a nutcase of a life," Alex clearly thought she was agreeing.

"But your children should not be left out. They should have a cabin at camp. Nico has proven that.

That was the moment Nico had fallen in love. No flighty fancies about this guy, though he'd still have those, no more wondering why he never thought any of the pretty girls he randomly saw he never looked twice at and wondered at himself for later. This, was the exact moment, he'd fallen for Percy harder than a plummet to Tartarus could ever cause him. Percy had forgiven him. Percy had said his name, still declared him a place at camp. Percy hadn't called out anyone else's name in that speech, not even Annabeth. Just him. Percy was the only one who existed in that room for just that moment, surrounded in golden halo light.

Yeah, he was feeling less guilty about that crush by the day as he shook his head at himself. The pain of following him back to that camp finally, only for him to be tossed in a lake and make out with his official girlfriend had also been a really good kick in his ass of what a freak he'd still felt like among all the cheering kids.

He gave Will's hand a squeeze and swallowed a sigh. It felt kind of good and kind of like he was still being kicked in the teeth to keep reliving all this in a more abstract way out of his own head, but he was getting there.

No unclaimed demigods will be crammed into the Hermes cabin anymore, wondering who their parents are. They'll have their own cabins, for all the gods. And no more pact of the Big Three. That didn't work anyway. You've got to stop trying to get rid of powerful demigods. We're going to train them and accept them instead. All children of the gods will be welcome and treated with respect. That is my wish."

Zeus snorted. "Is that all?"

"Dammit, he beat me by one second," Thalia chuckled.

"That really might have been the longest speech you've ever said before," Annabeth teasingly agreed.

"And I didn't even call anyone an old sot," Percy smirked.

They were all still giggly and acting a little high from their victory. From the worst of it being over. To the backlash of emotions they still hadn't quite sorted through after all this time that was dumped on them fresh.

"Percy," Poseidon said, "you ask much. You presume much."

"I hold you to your oath," I said. "All of you."

I got a lot of steely looks. Strangely, it was Athena who spoke up: "The boy is correct. We have been unwise to ignore our children. It proved a strategic weakness in this war and almost caused our destruction. Percy Jackson, I have had my doubts about you, but perhaps"—she glanced at Annabeth, and then spoke as if the words had a sour taste—"perhaps I was mistaken. I move that we accept the boy's plan."

"Wow," Magnus grinned in surprise. It sounded like Athena wasn't even trying to pin this idea on Annabeth so much as admitting she was a good influence on him. That was a nice upgrade.

"Humph," Zeus said. "Being told what to do by a mere child. But I suppose . . ."

"All in favor," Hermes said.

All the gods raised their hands.

"Um, thanks," I said.

I turned, but before I could leave, Poseidon called, "Honor guard!"

Immediately the Cyclopes came forward and made two lines from the thrones to the door—an aisle for me to walk through. They came to attention.

"All hail, Perseus Jackson," Tyson said. "Hero of Olympus . . . and my big brother!"

"Ending on the important things," Will's voice sounded a little too watery to pass off that chuckle as genuine as he handed the book to Jason, who eagerly snatched it away and studied the past few passages like Tyson had just found the coolest freaking stick.

They realized when he didn't flip to keep reading he was actually studying it, rereading it to himself with a kind of hunger Annabeth smiled to recognize.

None of them were quite sure where he'd come from specifically, what his past had truly been, or what he'd done up to this moment of being in here, but they all saw how important Percy's wish was to him.

Which was strange. But hey, that was nothing new for any of them.

PJOPJOPJOPJO

Please do share your thoughts on Wrath of the Triple Goddess. I've seen so many mixed reviews of the good and the bad and I'm fascinated, haha.

I personally liked it medium. I was never bored, though I thought the plot beats dragged just a bit, but I genuinely enjoyed the interactions and all the animal love and Hecuba and Gale being such a focus with Percy being an emotional anchor as he phases from 'teen who mouthes off to gods saving the world by the seat of his pants,' to 'budding adult who reflects he's kind of an idiot for mouthing off to gods and still trying to help everyone by the seat of his pants.'

[blackjackkent]

Lorroakan loot:

[fahrquad pointing meme] Athkatlan!

Interesting. The staff is pretty okay for Gale but the robe isn't really even that impressive, at least as compared to the Potent Robe we got from Alfira all the way back in Act 2. So that will go towards the HGS Potions Fund.

I was gonna talk with Rolan but he seems to have disappeared so I'm assuming he's back downstairs and we'll talk to him later? Quick look around the tower first though.

First interesting thing - a note confirming that Lorroakan was a bastard, in case anyone needed it:

[fahrquad pointing meme again] Sellout! Asshole! Liar!

Honestly I'm relieved because if it turned out that he really HAD found some way to use her magic without hurting her then all of this would have felt a lot more complicated than it does. XD

He also has tried to write a book about himself to submit to the "Wizards of Note" book series, apparently:

That's more or less all that's up here, so heading back downstairs...

OK, going back downstairs we are caught by one of Lorroakan's projections and once again ejected from the shop for "HABITUAL VIOLENCE." No sign of Rolan.

INVISIBILITY AND BACK UP TO THE TOWER AGAIN!

Aha there you are. How you doing, Rolan?

"Lorroakan is dead. The bastard is dead."

"Are you all right?"

"I am. Now that the bastard's in bits." There's none of Rolan's old cocky confidence now. He just sounds extremely tired and sad. "Lorroakan was a cruel and vicious man. By day, I'd tend the shop, but at night - he'd fire the most nonsensical questions at me. And for every one I answered 'wrong', he'd beat me."

A pause. He looks down at his own palms. "I could've killed him with my own two hands, but I kept thinking it was all a test. It had to be. I thought it was the price I had to pay to become a true wizard. I realize now he was just a sick, sick man..."

Poor guy. Hector is no stranger, by now, to the terrible things that people in this world are capable of doing to each other. But it never fails to strike him with new ferocity every time he encounters it. Rolan has been a blowhard at times, but he's a good man at heart, and he doesn't deserve how his desire to better himself has been taken advantage of.

"He's dead now," he says quietly. "It's over. And you've won."

Rolan smiles slightly, with a hint of his old air of confidence - though muted now with experience. "I have," he agrees. "With your considerable help." He looks around thoughtfully. "I see things clearly now. If I wish to master the Weave, I must do it myself. Thankfully, I have everything I need - right here."

Hector grins. That sounds more like the Rolan he knows, and cocky though it is, it's good to hear it back, even a little. What he's proposing -- to take Lorroakan's tower for himself -- is certainly aiming high, though. "You'll be challenged," he points out. "I'm sure there are others who want the tower."

Rolan laughs softly. "Let them come. I happened across a book on the tower's defenses, and they are considerable." He's visibly starting to come out of the shock of the battle now, growing more energized. "I'll move Cal and Lia in immediately. Lorroakan refused to let them stay here. The are going to love the tower."

He pauses, then looks at Hector intently for a moment. "I wouldn't have this - the tower, my family - without you," he adds, with a more earnest tone than Hector has ever heard from him before. "What can I do to thank you?"

Hector smiles. The other man's gratitude and respect is worth more than any reward to him, and in truth he never expected to truly earn it. Were there less at stake, he would demand nothing at all.

But very soon, he will need people to stand with him against the terrible threat on the horizon. And Rolan has more than proved himself, over the time they've known each other.

"The city is under siege, from the inside out. I need allies," he says soberly.

"And you'll have me," Rolan agrees at once, nodding. Given everything they've been through, Hector is more than a little impressed at the lack of even a moment's hesitation. "I'll learn everything I can about the tower in the meantime, even if I have to rip this place apart. But know this - Ramazith's Tower, and its master, are now your friends. And when the time comes, we will stand by you as allies."

[bumblepony]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do a kiss prompt for Alexei & Amos from As Nandorluna’s Go Your Own Way & As Long as You Follow. I liked your one short fic of them.

The prompt would be "kiss with trembling lips"

Thank you

This was not as sexy as I first thought I was going to go, but I still liked making it sooo, here we go. I hope you like it, Nonnie.

I am also linking this to my good friend @chronicallyonlinewriter because these are her original characters, and I want to make sure she is happy with this little slice of story I slipped into her universe.

If anyone is interested in reading her work I highly recommend it, it's one of my favorite series in TLOU fanfic fandom here is the link People Still Listen to Fleetwood Mac in the Apocalypse

Story under the cut!

“Alexei?” Amos’s voice called sleep-rough from down the hall, a familiar sound that always managed to stir something soft in Alexei. Normally, after hearing it, he would drag whatever book he was reading back to the bedroom and cuddle up under the covers with Amos’s pleasant warmth pressed along his side. But today, Alexei didn’t have time. He’d already spent too many days away from the hospital, and he needed to get back. He shoved another book into his bag.

“In here.” He called, then mumbled quietly to himself as he looked around him, making sure he’d grabbed everything.

“What are you doing?” Amos asked, his confusion clear in his tone. Alexei looked up at his husband, tall and mussed, standing in the doorway. His T-shirt wrinkled, one leg of his sweatpants hiked up just below his knee, and the wild red curls of his hair half falling out of the low ponytail he usually put it in for bed. His shockingly blue eyes were tired but sharp as he took in Alexei’s actions.

“I have to get back to the hospital. I’m already so behind… on everything.” He sighed, his mind already cataloging all the different experiments that were waiting for his hand, each at a different stage of completion that only he could correctly handle.

His mind was so taken by his musings that he didn’t realize Amos had moved until his hand was over the top of his own. Strong fingers stopped his relentless packing and repacking of his bag. Placing his thumb and pointer finger under Alexei’s chin, Amos turned his face to his.

“Alexei, stop. What are you doing?” Amos asked again, his voice low, desperate. Alexei’s eyes skate over his worried face, his bushy brows pulled down over his dark circled eyes, mouth creased into a thin line between his scruffy beard. “You nearly died less than a week ago, I thought… Jesus, when I got the call, I thought that was it. I rushed to the hospital, sure I’d be too late, sure all I’d be able to do was hold your already cooling hand as they told me you were gone. But by some fucking miracle, you were still alive. My beautiful, reckless, stubborn husband was still alive.” Amos’s hand came up and brushed away a lock of silver hair from his forehead before he leaned in and placed a trembling kiss on his lips. Alexei could feel Amos’s hand also shake, where it rested on his face, and guilt sprang up hot and acidic from his gut.

“Alexei, you look like shit. You’ve been burning yourself at both ends since we got here. And I understand, I really do, I know how important this is for you, for us, for everyone.” Amos took a deep breath and placed his forehead against Alexei’s, “But, Alexei, I need you. Do you understand? If-if you do find a way to make a cure, but I end up losing you in the process because you’ve run yourself down to the bone, then none of it will have been worth it for me.” Amos pressed his lips to Alexei’s once more, so fiercely that their teeth clacked against one another. He held himself there, his breaths harsh and sharp against Alexei’s lips before pulling away and piercing him with his gaze. “Do you understand Alexei? None of this is worth it without you.”

Alexei knew the heart attack had scared Amos. It had scared him, too. But hearing that fear in Amos’s voice, feeling it in his touch, finally forced him to see that his life meant something beyond his ability to make a cure. His wellbeing mattered to Amos, and he had not been taking care of himself.

“Amos, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…” Alexei stammered and lifted his hands to rest on Amos’s shoulders, needing to feel his solid frame under his palms. 

“Well, you do now, so I need you to take care of yourself. This was a wake-up call, and I need you to listen to it, please,” Amos said and pulled away to take Alexei’s bag and shove it under the desk. One last clear message that Amos did not plan on letting Alexei go anywhere today. 

“Okay, Amos. Okay, I will.” Alexei laughed weakly. His earlier need to be back at work spilled out of him in a rush and left him feeling raw and exhausted.

“Good then. Good.” Amos ran a shaking hand through his already chaotic curls, his tone surprised as if he had expected more of a fight and then reached down to take Alexi’s hand. “Come back to bed. I know you’ll have to go back eventually, but can we work all that out tomorrow?”

Alexei laced his fingers with Amos’s and reached out his other hand to gently smooth down Amos' jaw, the rough scrape of his scruff a calming sensation against his palm. “Of course, sweetheart. It can wait.”

“C’mon,” Amos tugged him from the little office and back to their warm, comfortable bed.

[mono-colored-ghosts]

The leyline's missing link

<<This is a video recording that was taken last night.>>

It was in the middle of the night, Monilla (in a night gown) was at her study area of her room, with dozens of books stacked up with each about the history of occulture written by the leyline bloodline family members. Dirge the mismagius floated near her shoulder and spoke

"young Leyline, I must ask of you on what is it you're currently investigating as of now?"

Monilla didn't bother with turning to the wispy and sagely voice of the female mismagius and replied,

"I'd rather not be saying much of it. But to sate your curiosity, I'm looking into our ancestor Monotia. But for some reason it's like her name in our family tree or her achievements and such has been lost to time, or rather barely recorded much of her aside from her childhood. It pisses on my patience greatly but I need to know more about her."

Her eyes narrowed as she read the book she's currently gazing towards with annoyance to her.

"I see."

Dirge responded as she floated around her trainer.

"However that may be, it's getting very late for this no? You have been studying your family history for the whole day, so surely you're tired as of now physically?"

"I'd rather not think about that all that much."

Monilla's stubborn yet quiet tone made clear of her choice of words, yet her body swayed slightly, betraying her. Dirge sighed as she looked around the room she resides in before pressing on.

"well it's more preferable to rest on your ready and made bed, rather than your desk is it not? You'll eventually fall asleep and I rather you not be disturbed by your sibling questioning your choice of a resting spot."

Monilla turned to her and just tiredly rolled her eyes before getting up, and taking off her glasses and witch hat, swapping said hat with a purple ghost themed night cap.

"Fine. But only cause of me not wanting to be dealing with Shira's clowning tonight. Once I wake up however I'm getting to the bottom of this mystery one way or another."

She proceeded to slowly walk to her mattress tiredly as dirge replied with another question

"honestly dear if you want to know more about her, then why not just summon her?"

This stopped her in her track entirely, and quickly turned to her with a surprised look to her face.

"what?"

"I'm saying that if you want this oddity be revealed bring her to the physical world, I'm sure it can't be that hard for you!"

"Dirge I'm a witch and yes an occultist, but I'm no summoner. Truth and ideals do you realize that takes experience and alot of understanding of the technique of the ritual to summon someone like her?"

Dirge shrugged at her glaring trainer

"It's worth an option and a try young Leyline."

"... whatever you damningly polite hag."

Dirge chuckled to herself before fading away from view as monilla got to her bed laying there and looking up at the ceiling.

"...maybe that's not a bad idea now thinking about it."

Before turning herself away at a wall to sleep.

<<the video ends here.>>

[pierrotwrites-hc]

ok so this is probably gonna be weirdly specific but. ages ago, when i read the previous version of tgb, i seem to remember an author's note that said you rewrote an even earlier version of the story to make luca less like yourself & more into his own character (or something along those lines, it was a very long time ago). would you ever elaborate on what that meant? from what i understand you have been working on tgb for a really long time and even if i misremember that note, your writing process facinates me. i only read the version that was previously published on ao3 and the current one is definitely better but i'd love to hear what the rewriting process was like, as it apparently wasn't the first time you'd done it? huge fan of your work, i hope you have the best day :)

HA we are actually on the...*drumroll*...third revision of this story.

The first version was only a few chapters posted on the orig_slavefic community on Livejournal (shoutout to @maculategiraffe). I was still working out the sort of story I wanted to write and took an everything-and-the-kitchen-sink approach, which meant there was MAGIC and DEMONS and god knows what else. I couldn't pace a story to save my life (did I mention I was 17) and the style and voice and characterization were wildly inconsistent, a patchwork of things I liked in books by other, better writers (Terry Pratchett, Diana Wynne Jones, Holly Black, etc).

Anyway, an LJ writer I admired wrote a post in which they sarcastically excerpted some of my writing, and I realized that the chapters I'd produced were not just unsuccessful but mockable. I thought about what I wanted the story to be, where I wanted it to go, and how I wanted it to sound. I identified a serious tone problem with Luca's POV: it was written too lightly, and made him come across as far too...well, plucky, for lack of a better word. It just wasn't how someone so broken would think or speak or see the world.

I rewrote that draft completely. This resulted in the version originally posted on Ao3. It was miles better, but I had miles to go, and I knew it, but I didn't know how to get there.

At that point I was in undergrad at a school which offered no creative writing classes and whose professors really and truly disdained the sort of books I liked best. (I'll never forget proposing a thesis on children's fantasy in postwar Britain and my advisor forbidding me from "applying my theory pyrotechnics to a pile of crap"). So I started a reading group with a friend, a very serious reading group with books assigned at the beginning and end of every semester and hours-long weekly meetings. It was here that I began to figure out what actually worked about the books I admired, and how I might adapt successful structures and strategies into my own work.

Then I went to graduate school for writing. This was the first time I'd gotten deep critical feedback on my creative work. I was also diagnosed with CPTSD by a therapist who assigned me a lot of reading (my love language). Now I could work on technical issues like tone and pacing while also developing a deeper understanding of how trauma shapes a person's identity and worldview.

Looking at the second draft of TGB through this lens, I felt that Luca and Robert were not distinct enough, either from each other or any of the other characters (many of whom were pretty cartoonish). I also realized that I hadn't been thinking of Luca's plot arc as a progress arc, a reparative curve along which we see him moving chapter by chapter and book by book. And I wanted to give myself room to illustrate his relationship with Robert in more nuanced shades of moral gray. Robert and Luca are both products of a society like but also quite unlike our own, and they don't have to be (and shouldn't be) "good" or "likable" in the way we're used to thinking about. Robert is not (or at least not initially) an abolitionist. Neither is Luca. Indeed, Robert is the one most willing to question the institution of slavery because he's also the one whose imagination hasn't been (as Kemp says of Luca) "hopelessly limited by slavery." Of course those limitations aren't actually hopeless, but they are very real, and they're something Luca will be chipping away at in increments for a long, long time.

It was useful for me to think about who I wanted Luca and Robert to be at the beginning of the story, and what I wanted their relationship to be, and then to think about who they and their relationship would become by the very last page of the very last book. Knowing our starting point and our destination allowed me to plot the distance between, and to shape that plot around the trauma recovery (with all its fits, starts, and setbacks) these characters needed to go through, both together and individually.

And then I started writing.